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butgilinsky · 3 years

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meant to be // np

warning; stress/anxiety, mentions a toxic ex but doesn't go into detail abt it, fluffy nolan, i think that's it?

summary; when you go MIA, Nolan makes sure you're okay. based on the song meant to be by bebe rexha & florida georgia line

word count; 2.8k+

a/n; this is a part of my yee haw series (all fics are stand alones, so don't worry about that) if you have any interest in checking those out too! until then, enjoy fluffy nolan

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

You were usually pretty good at telling yourself that you were blowing things out of proportion. It didn’t always stop you from doing so, but it usually talked you off a ledge. This week, it seemed that there was no talking yourself off of the ledge.

Other than the fact that you were five pages into your portfolio that you were submitting to Temple in an attempt to get into their MFA program, one that you’d been wanting to go to for years at this point, your ex had made a recent appearance in your life. As if the stress from applying to grad school wasn’t enough for you to handle, you had run straight into your ex on your way home from grabbing coffee.

It would’ve been enough if you had just run into him, if you had to exchange pleasantries with the same person who shattered your heart into so many pieces you were still recovering two years after the break up. The same person that traumatized you enough to have to put your current relationship on a speed so slow that you were sure a sloth would have moved faster.

Nolan had been patient with you, which you were beyond thankful for. He was fine with things going at a snail’s pace, given that you weren’t the only one between the two of you that had a rocky past with romantic relationships. It wasn’t news to anyone that you were together, but it had been confusing for just about everyone outside of the two of you.

There wasn’t a label on it, neither of you needed one to know where you stood. Both of you had an understanding that you were just as damaged as you were interested in each other, and working slow without any labels or the need to structure your relationship in society’s idea of normalcy was your middle ground. It allowed the two of you to breathe, without leaving a lingering doubt about how the two of you felt about each other.

People pestered the two of you about it, why you wouldn’t wear a WAGs jacket or introduce Nolan to your parents when they were in town. They didn’t get it, but they didn’t need to. You and Nolan communicated very well with one another, and if the two of you knew what was going on with everything, then nobody else needed to. Neither of you needed anyone else’s validation to be content with where the two of you stood.

But then you ran into your ex. Your shoulder collided with his on the street and while you thought you were piecing yourself back together from everything he put you through, the mere sight of him sent you down a spiral that you had avoided for as long as you possibly could.

It’s not that you missed your ex, because you didn’t. You didn’t miss him or the way he spoke to you, nor did you miss the lack of communication and being left in the dark more often than not. Seeing him made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but everything he put you through came to the forefront of your mind, and you were unintentionally overwhelmed with the worry that you’d end up in the same scenario with Nolan one day.

You didn’t think that Nolan would hurt you, not the way you’d been hurt in the past. You trusted him more than you’ve ever trusted anyone, and he proved that he deserved that trust. It wasn’t the thought that Nolan would become the person your ex had been, but the thought that there would be a day where Nolan was your ex.

It was scary and deafening, and the reason you couldn’t finish your portfolio. You’d been writing for hours, or trying to. The chair you were sitting in had grown uncomfortable in the first hour, and you had migrated around the apartment to look for a place that didn’t hurt your ass or your back. Unfortunately you couldn’t find one, opting to sit on the floor in between your couch and your coffee table. You’d been so lost in thought that you had spent six hours without responding to anyone, not even realizing that time had gone by that quickly until you got a call.

The only reason you even saw the call was the fact that the notification popped up on your computer. You knew he knew something was up because he rarely ever facetimed you without asking if you were free first; though, if he had texted you first there was no way of you knowing with your phone in a completely different room. He only ever facetimed you unannounced when you didn’t answer your phone for a while. He knew you could answer facetime calls on your laptop, and while you weren’t always in the mood to talk to him at that moment, it was enough to get your attention and let you know that he was worried about you.

But you answered it today, regardless of the fact that you looked a mess and felt even worse. You answered because you needed him to ground you, to pull your head out of the clouds and silence the thoughts that had been buzzing in your mind for over 24 hours.

“Hey.” you forced a small smile to your lips before reaching behind you to turn on a lamp, unaware of the darkness you were encased in until now.

“You okay? You’ve been MIA all day.” you rolled your eyes gently, a playful smile playing on your lips.

“It hasn’t been all day.” you tried to assure him that he was being slightly over dramatic, but the look in his eyes told you that that was not the case.

“Y/n, it’s midnight.” that it was, though it was the first time you were realizing that. You had no idea what time it was, and sitting in front of your computer for the past six hours had not helped that fact. “What happened? Talk to me.”

“This portfolio’s just stressing me out.” he hummed, unsure that was the full reason. He could tell in the way that your forehead creased and your eyes narrowed slightly that there was more than just a little stress going on. You’d been stressed about this thing for weeks, there had to be something else that was going on with you.

“So you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong?” you sighed softly, unsure if you wanted to unpack all of that right now. “Alright. Be ready in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? Nolan I can’t get ready in ten minutes-”

“Just put a pair of sweats on and go stand outside. I’ll be there in ten.” he hung up then, not giving you much of an option but to do as he said.

Nine minutes after Nolan hung up on you, you were standing outside, teeth chattering lightly while you bounced on the balls of your feet. The familiar car pulling up in front of you made you smile, and when you stepped up to the door you heard the lock click.

You pulled yourself into his car quickly, sighing out in relief at the warmth that encased you. Your eyes found his, a warmth spreading through your chest as you leaned over the center console to kiss him softly. He hummed against your lips, chasing you for just a moment when you pulled back. The next one lasted just a second longer, noses bumping against one another softly.

He pulled back then, moving to kiss your cheek before sitting back in his seat and moving the gear shift into drive. His right hand found its home on your thigh, the warmth from his palm radiating through your sweats and into your skin.

“Where are we going?” your voice was soft and peaceful, like the sound of home on a cold winter evening that Nolan wished he could live in forever.

“Nowhere.” he shrugged, glancing over at you for a moment to smile at you. He didn’t have a destination in mind, just driving around the city for the night. It wasn’t the first time the two of you had done this before, and you doubt it’d be the last.

These nights were your favorite; Nolan driving absolutely nowhere with his hand on your thigh and his ear offered up to you. Sometimes you didn’t talk for hours, just listened to whatever playlist the two of you chose and drove until one or both of you got too tired to continue. Sometimes you ended up hours away from home, which got the two of you (usually Nolan) into trouble from time to time.

“What’s up, what’s rotting your mind?” you leaned your head onto his shoulder, wanting to be close to him more than anything right now.

“It’s stupid.” you whispered gently.

His hand moved up from your thigh to cup the underside of your jaw. He moved towards you, eyes still locked on the road while his lips pecked yours softly. It was cheesy and a bit awkward, but it wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that. It was meant to soothe you, and it did. Nolan wasn’t a man of many words but his actions always spoke loud enough for you to hear him clearly.

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.” his voice was as gentle as his heart, something you loved dearly about him. He wasn’t pushy or demanding, rather patient and gentle.

“I ran into Kai yesterday.” his muscles tensed, along with his hand gripping your thigh just a little tighter than it previously had been. It wasn’t a huge change but you picked up on it, along with the way his jaw clenched and he sighed through his nose.

Nolan had never met Kai, and you hoped he never would. Not because you thought Nolan would kill him or anything, but because you wished that nobody in your current life had to ever interact with people from your past. Kai knew a completely different person than the one Nolan knew, and you didn’t want to be the person you used to be. You didn’t want Nolan to be subjected to hearing about her or the life she previously led.

“Did he say something to you?” you didn’t expect much different from him. He’d always been a safe amount of protective. He wasn’t the type to run out of the house at the first sound of danger and pummel everyone into the ground, he just wanted to make sure you were alright. He wouldn’t put a bounty out on Kai, but if he did or said something that was still bothering you, he’d do everything he possibly could to make you feel better.

“I mean yes, but not in the way that you’re thinking. It wasn’t what he said it’s just,” you sighed, one that made your cheeks puff out and your eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“It’s just that now you’re scared that that’s how we’ll end up.” you lifted your head off of his shoulder, looking at him with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow.

“How’d you learn how to read minds? That’s a pretty cool party trick, you know?” he laughed gently and tapped the inside of your thigh while shaking his head at you. You always tried to lighten the mood by making small little jokes out of things and while some people found it to be unbearable, Nolan loved every single second of it.

“I wish I could read your mind, it’d make things a lot easier most of the time.” you rolled your eyes but laughed, finding truth in his words.

“I just don’t want history to repeat itself, you know? I’m just scared that the things I’ve been trying to avoid are inevitable. What if they happen anyway? What if everything I’ve been working for is useless and everything i’ve run from is my destiny?” Nolan sighed softly and pulled into a parking garage, one that you weren’t familiar with.

“Everything you and Kai went through, stays between the two of you. I’m not him, and I’ll never be him. I won’t say we’ll never fight, because I obviously can’t guarantee that. We’ll fight, everyone does, but we’ll get past it. We’ll survive it all. That, I can assure you. I can promise you that I would never treat you the way that that douche did.”

He doesn’t promise you the world, nor does he promise to shoot for the stars. He doesn’t promise that things will always be alright, but that’s what you love about Nolan. He doesn’t set unrealistic expectations. He doesn’t tell you what you want to hear just to make you feel better. He’ll do a lot of things to make you feel better, but lying to you isn’t one of them.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, you know? You just have to let it be, which you’re not entirely skilled at.” you punch his arm softly just as he parks at the top of the parking garage that’s almost completely empty.

“What if what it’s meant to be isn’t what I want it to be, though?” Nolan shook his head gently and turned towards you, a soft smile sitting on his lips.

“It won’t be at times, but that doesn’t mean it won’t ever be. If people could write out their lives exactly like they wanted them to be, nobody’s lives would align. You have to let things play out, baby, and I know that’s the scariest thing about life itself, but it’ll work out. If it’s meant to be, I promise it’ll be.”

Your lips move before your mind can catch up. You’re so immersed in him, neck deep in whatever he’s cooked up for you, but you don’t try to get out. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. You didn’t think that anyone could be so perfectly hand crafted, treated with such care that even his flaws were beautiful. You didn’t plan on telling him you loved him, didn’t plan on saying the words that have done nothing but haunt you for the last few years.

“I love you.” it comes out in a breath, like it’s lifted a weight off of your shoulders.

He can tell you didn’t mean to say it, because your eyes blow wide open and your lips part in a way that he can tell you’ve spoken out of impulse rather than preparation. Your cheeks are hot and your hands shake just enough for Nolan to reach for one of them and hold it tightly in his own.

He’s smiling, which is as confusing as the small laugh that he lets out. It’s confusing and almost angering, but you don’t have time to ask because the second your brow furrows, he’s tumbling out an explanation for his reaction.

“I love you too. Have for a while, probably always will.” it melts your heart that’s sunk into your stomach. You’re not sure what you did that made the universe gift you with Nolan, though you believe it to be something between adopting a child in a past life or buying a woman’s order at Taco Bell when she forgot her wallet at home.

He expects you to say something else, maybe ask if he’s joking or not, but you don’t. You’re frozen in your spot, tears building up in your eyes that make Nolan meet you over the center console and pull you into his chest. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re so emotional, but he has a feeling it has to do with your traumatic past and the fear that others have installed in you. He just wants you to be happy, especially if he gets to stick around to make it happen himself.

“I love you so much, and it’s fucking terrifying.” he kisses the top of your head, his hand moving up and down your back in the most soothing pattern he can come up with.

“I know, and I’m scared too. Maybe we always will be, but we can’t spend too much time worrying about it or else we won’t get to experience it. We’ll ruin it for ourselves, and I don’t want to do that.” you shook your head, your silent way of telling him that you don’t want to do that either. You wanted to let yourself cherish falling in love with Nolan.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, right?” he smiles down at you, one of the widest smiles you’ve ever seen him present. You store it in your memory, hoping you’d never forget the sight of him smiling at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the word.

“That’s right, baby. And I have a pretty good feeling about us.”

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#nolan patrick #nolan patrick x reader #nolan x reader #philadelphia flyers #flyers #nhl fic #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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yelenasdog · 3 years

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heavy is the head that wears the crown (mob!arvin russell x fem! pastor’s daughter! reader)

genre: angst+fluff

summary: arvin had always heard the saying “heavy is the head that wears the crown” but never truly understood what it meant. not until now

words: 4.06k

warnings: since this is based off of a tdatt, family death, mentions of death, mentions of mobs, kissing, marriage, murder, smoking, suicide, cancer and i think that’s it. it’s also kinda melodramatic, and i haven’t watched tdalt in a while so a lot could be plot inaccurate also idk anything abt the mob or mafia so like dont k*ll me thx i just like joe pesci

a/n: first, i owe the amazing concept of mob!arv to @kelieah ! so go follow her for more mob!arvin goodness!! basically i’m obsessed w 90s mob movies and watched goodfellas and casino and few too many times lately and oops here we r! i tried to write this from the narrator in tdatt’s view, so if u wanna read it like that then cool! btw the pic w the dress is just an idea of the dress reader is wearing not what she looks like! ok enjoy i’ll stop rambling

·。·。·。

“So, Arvin. I was told you paint houses? That true?”

Arvin hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it again. He wasn’t a painter, no, he killed people. For a price, that is.

But rather than saying no, the jab in his side from his uncle told him to answer otherwise.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

The Pastor nodded, taking a drag from his cigar, imported all the way from Cuba. He then placed what was left of the long stick in the crystal tray in front of him, the tapping of it on the reflective surface seeming almost deafening.

“Can all your family be traced down to one place, son?”

Arvin gulped, avoiding his eyes, darting his own around the heavily decorated room. Another jab to his side. He winced, meeting the older man’s eyes. He may not know much about the life he was about to enter, but he knew enough about what that meant.

“Yes, sir. They can be, minus my father and my mother. They’re gone.”

Not even a full beat of silence later, the Pastor spoke.

“How’d he die?”

Arvin was taken aback, though he knew that question was coming. His jaw clenched, as did his fist by his side. If the Pastor noticed, he didn’t speak on it, barely lifting his eyes from the document resting on his desk.

“Suicide, after the war.”

“And your mother?”

He took his lip in between his teeth, feeling the skin break, the tears well in his eyes for reasons he would excuse as the pain he was inflicting.

“Cancer. It happened when I was young, I didn’t barely even know her.”

The pastor looked up, slimming his eyes. This time he did notice the glimmering droplets, welling up in his chestnut colored eyes, threatening to fall. He appreciated the boy’s attempt to keep his emotions in check in front of his would be superior, leaning back into his chair.

“It’s alright, boy. You’re allowed to cry, it was your mother.” His southern accent was thick like molasses, his words drawing out. Arvin still felt that it wasn’t acceptable, though, so he only sniffled and directed his chin further up towards the ceiling. He stood there for a while, nerves running through his every cell. It was electric, like white lighting making its way through his veins at a painstakingly slow pace.

“Right then.”

The pastor stood, walking towards Arvin and his uncle. His expensive loafers tapped along the cold floor as he went, the sound pestering to the ears of Arvin, taunting him. He reached a soft hand out, which the boy standing opposite to him gladly took. He observed how the Pastor’s hand was without scars, calluses. Anything that would point to evidence of him being a killer, doing his own dirty work (or “the Lord’s work” as he liked to put it).

“Welcome to the family, son.”

And as Arvin smiled widely and shook his hand with an iron grip, he began to wonder what his new life would entail doing the “Lord’s work”.

He thought he had a pretty good idea, but boy, was he wrong.

“So, how’d it go?”

It was later, and Arvin was sitting with one his most favorite people, Y/n. The pair were resting in an open field, the wildflowers around her just almost competing with the beauty she held. He bashfully looked to the dirt under his shoes, noticing how only inches away, her hands picked at the damp grass.

“Went well, I think. He told me I’m ‘part of the family now’.”

She smiled at him, and in that moment with her hair so widely astray, and wearing that pale blue dress he adored so much, Arvin’s heart felt a certain emotion he hadn’t necessarily felt for someone at this multitude before. He had felt it for Lenora, his mother, his aunt and uncle. But it was different, then. Because now as he sat with her by his side, his love for her was realized at its full potential.

She began to ramble on, congratulating him on becoming a member of her father’s so called “family”, telling him how proud she was. He couldn’t keep focused on the sweet words that were falling from her lips like honey, though, as he was too caught up in his own head, his own thoughts.

“Arv?” She asked, voice laced with slight concern, but mostly with curiosity.

“Sorry, darlin’. Just thinking.”

She blushes, it’s the first time he’s called her that before. She tries to carry on conversation, though with her heart beating through that pretty dress of her’s, it was a bit difficult.

“About what?” She questioned, doing her very best not to pry too far, to be invasive in the very reserved Arvin’s mind.

Truthfully? He was promising himself that he would marry her one day, make her his wife. But telling her that he was only thinking “‘bout the future” would have to do. I mean, truthfully, he really was!

So he answered her, and she was content with said answer, abandoning the subject and returning to many praises for Arv. The standards for the “family” were high, and though she believed in him fiercely, she knew that at his core Arvin was the sweetest soul she’d ever met, and she was skeptical he could put that aside to do whatever the job would require.

“Arvin?”

He looked up, and she nearly lost her breath. It was Arvin’s sunkissed skin, tanned from working under the hot sun, the beams beating down on him. Or perhaps it was the freckles that lightly dusted his crooked nose, like a constellation from the cosmos above. Maybe even it was the mop that sat on his head, the color all the same of those sweet brown eyes of his. Whatever it was, she felt it could only mean one thing.

Y/n Y/l/n was confident she loved Arvin Russell.

“Hmm?” He asked, tilting his head like a confused canine. Adorably endearing, she thought.

And though she had much to say, she was afraid that if he were the dog in question, then the puppy had got her tongue, so to say.

“Y/n/n?” The boy said, nudging her with his elbow, making a melodious giggle erupt from her chest. “What, cat got your tongue?” Arvin teased, and she only shook her head and smiled, as he had no idea how correct he really was.

“You could say that.”

The two shared laughs over the exchange, and at some point (neither of them are quite sure when, how, or who leaned in first), their lips connected in a short and sweet kiss. It seemed that it only lasted for a moment, and as soon as they pulled apart, Arvin and Y/n both were dying for more.

But they resisted, Arvin reaching out a cautious hand to entangle with hers. She bashfully grinned, as did he (though he did his best to resist).

“Y/n, I really like you.” He had said, his thumb running small circles upon her skin. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you like me too.” He laughed, nervous notes to the sound.

“And well, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfr-”

And with a light groan, Y/n had wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing both of them to the ground. She connected their lips, the kiss so oddly blunt, an attack on his lips that he had no plan of fighting off. His hands found her hair, and her’s moved to the sides of his face, holding him so tightly, as if she was afraid he would let go.

“Yes.” She pulled away panting, her lips swollen, his flushed. “Yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend, Arvin.”

They smiled as bright as the setting sun above them, and Arvin pulled her close as she buried her face in the warm crook of his neck. They stayed like that ‘till the sun went down and the stars came out of hiding, the cool summer breeze blowing around them. They both still felt it, then, the love they had only just began to realize was there. And they would continue to feel it for years to come.

Like when Arvin would get back from a job, sometimes with blood splattered on his crisp white shirts, his dirty work getting, well, dirty. She would slowly peel it from his body, taking care to make sure he wasn’t hurt. She would do her best to wash the crimson stains from the fabric, sighing if it was seeming to be of no use. Arvin would come up behind her where she was working at the sink, wrapping his strong arms around her middle and resting his head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Arv,” she would start, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face, “damn thing won’t budge.” Arvin would just chuckle, reaching up a gentle hand, gentle only for her, to tuck the hair behind her ear, quietly speaking.

“Well I think it looks pretty good, darlin’. It’ll do just fine.” He would spin her around to face him, and pepper small kisses on her skin, smiling at her reaction. And if he was hurt, she would take care to use a warm washcloth, wiping the scarlet splatters from his creamy complexion.

The juxtaposition of the shades was always bewildering for her, oddly beautiful in a way. She never said so, though, only muttering praises of how proud she was, how strong he is, things like that. And Arvin would watch her, honey colored eyes following her as she moved about to fix him right up. No pain would have any real effect on him, not when she was there to reassure him, make him whole again.

As Arvin moved up in their small town world, in the “family”, he remained just as kind, just as gentle. Nothing really changed, no, only the lines on his forehead deepening and the crows feet becoming darker when he smiled; And Y/n’s role, as well. She stopped cleaning him up, stopped trying to rid his shirts of bloody reminders of his living. Arvin seemed to no longer be “painting walls’, but rather making sure jobs were done, everyone was staying in their places.

And things led to another, and all of a sudden Y/n and Arvin were moving into a big house, bigger than Arvin had ever even been in before. Deals and arrangements were made, settlements too.

One regular Tuesday, Arvin came home from what Y/n could tell had been a long, long, day. He was exhausted, but had this unmistakable look of excitement and joy plastered to his face. He had come in bursting through the door, not even taking off his hat or overcoat before making his way over to Y/n and kissing her silly.

“Well hello to you, too, Arv.” She laughed, amusement and curiosity both equally swirling around in her brain, wondering what could possibly have inspired this behavior.

“Things are happening, sweetheart, good, good things.” He took her hands in his, briefly shaking them before planting a kiss to them and walking away, a big smile on his face. And truth be told, not that she would admit it, it scared the Hell outta her. She wasn’t quite sure as to why, but something was itching at her brain, warning her that whatever was brewing wasn't a good thing. But nevertheless, she maintained her grin, painted lips never faltering.

The next day, when the “good things” were supposed to be happening, Arvin was seriously wondering why on God’s green Earth he had expected this to be easy.

“Come again, son?”

Arvin swallowed, shifting on his feet. He mentally scolded himself for ending up in this position again, standing in front of the Pastor’s desk, all kinds of confused. But it had to be this way, it was for the best, he knew. The sun shone through the window above the desk in front of him, right into his eyes, nearly blinding him. The Pastor didn’t really care, though.

“I’m asking for your blessing to ask Y/n’s hand in marriage, sir.”

The older man slowly nodded in understanding, taking a long drag from the expensive cigar between his fat fingers, the gold ring on his pinky also shining brightly under the harsh sun’s light.

“I just thought that after our arrangement-”

“Arvin, I don’t regret making you an heir, I don’t.” He stated, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “Hell, I can feel something big and bad coming, boy, you understand? I know God’s will is holding out on us, on this family. But it’s running thin.”

The young man clenched his jaw, internally cringing on what that might mean to the family, for the family, what it meant for Y/n. He bit his tongue, feeling the iron seep onto his taste buds.

“And I know those damn Teagardins are plotting, they’re plotting for our downfall. Making you next in line is something they won’t see coming, and I trust it’ll stay that way. But I don’t quite understand

“Well I love your daughter, I love her so much that it hurts. And if worst comes to worst…” he stopped, his bottom lip wavering for a moment, trying to carefully dance around the different outcomes of this conversation. “I feel I’ll be better able to protect her if we’re married, if she’s truly mine.” That part might have been a lie. Y/n has never been his, never would be. She was her own person, outside Arvin, outside the family. It was what he loved about her above all else.

The Pastor was quiet for a moment contemplating his response, calculating it.

“Would you die for her?”

“Yes.” The answer came without thought, it was automatic for Arvin.

The Pastor smiled widely, lifting his arms.

“So, when’s the wedding, Arv?

Turns out, it was exactly a year, a month, and 6 days until Y/n and Arvin would tie the knot. Arvin had spent time, waiting to find the perfect moment to ask her the big question. He had decided on a night where the moon was bright and the sky was clear. They sat together in what they had donned “their” field, the greenery around them rustling in the wind. Though he was nervous, he had delivered a stunning speech that had taken poor Y/n’s heart by force. It ended up with both of them crying like babies and a shiny ring on Y/n’s finger.

The wedding itself had taken place on a beautiful summer’s day, and Y/n had worn a pretty white dress that had made Arvin almost faint when he saw her, standing there on her father’s arm. She was all decked out in the most expensive diamonds and pearls, courtesy of her father, making her shine like a crystal of sorts.

It was the best night of her life, Arv’s too. But the joy they had felt must have an inevitable end, as the worst night (Arvin’s too) was soon to follow.

It had been an ambush, the death of the Y/l/n family. The death toll had managed to wrack up every member immediate member of the esteemed mob family, including the Pastor, his wife, and their two sons. A bomb planted in the trunk of their Cadillac that had gone off, placed there by who knows.

When Arvin had heard, his immediate reaction was to thank God that Y/n had decided to stay with him that day, to go lay in the fields just the two of them. Immediately after she had been told, she had fallen into Arvin, her entire body weight being put into his arms. Sobs wracked through her frame, her tears dampening Arvin’s yellow button up.

Once she had “come to”, Y/n had grown to be furious rather than sad. As when you look at the lineage of her family, look at the ranks of the mob and who’s to rise to power when the one in front of them dies, well Arvin was right after Y/n’s big brother, Jamie.

And Y/n had loved her big brother, she had loved him very much and would like to believe that Arvin, her sweet, sweet Arvin, would never do anything of that multitude just to satiate his hunger and appetite for power. The hunger for power she wasn’t even aware he possessed. But how in the Hell was she even supposed to be sure?

“I want to believe you, Arv, I do. But I can’t! It don’t make any damn sense, Arvin!”

“You really think that low of me, Y/n/n?”

Y/n had been shouting, trying to confront him for a crime he hadn’t committed. But Arvin was calm as he spoke, his eyes only watering and his voice only bordering on wavering. Y/n reached a trembling hand to her scalp, pulling lightly on her roots. The tears slipping down her face were hot and salty and she hated it so much.

“What else am I supposed to think?” She lifted an arm, sniffling before putting her other one on her waist, the blue of her dress, the same dress Arvin adored so much, just barely matching what was to become of her mood. She was started to regress, the red hot anger from before transforming to a stormy blue of unsure waters.

“My whole family is dead, and it just so happened that you asked me to stay with you the day they died! My whole family is dead!” She screamed, her voice a crescendo of sorts. “And everyone is clean, Arv, except you. You got the motive, you got the alibi, I’ll give you that much.” She paused, briefly wiping her nose and looking to the blank wall to the left of her father’s office. “It’s funny;” she dryly chuckled, and Arvin looked up.

“You went from doing my daddy’s dirty work to gettin’ some poor bastard to do your own. Ironic isn’t it?”

Arvin stepped towards her, pain twisting his insides up to see his best girl afraid of him, cowering away from his touch.

“You still have me, Y/n. I’m your family.”

She looked to her feet and back to him, shaking her head.

“No, Arv. You’re not. And you will be sorry for what you did to him, to all of them. You will be.” She said, walking away with her heels clicking heavily on the wooden floors. Arvin stood still for a while, not quite sure where to go next. But it dawned on him as the stained glass shone down on his feet in the most poetic manner, that he was already there.

So he dragged his feet along with him, breaths ragged and short, his head slowly tilting up towards the glorious light. He only had to go a few feet, before he sat down in the old leather chair, the only emotions he felt being those of an imposter. He thought back to all the nervous conversations he’d had with the pastor while he was sitting in that chair, a trembling Arvin usually standing opposite, awaiting instruction.

He darted his eyes across the mahogany surface in front of him, looking at all the various things that he only could associate with Y/n’s father. His valued cigar box, the crystalline tray that rested next to it. (He swore he could still smell the fresh smoke, wafting from the little dish.) He opened it, the latch clinking before his hand reached in and his fingers clasped around one of the thick rolls of tobacco. Before he could light it, he felt overwhelmed all of a sudden, and dropped it back into the box, slamming the lid.

He laid back, resting his weary head. Arvin took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, before falling into a not so peaceful slumber.

He was only woken minutes later, Joseph, Y/n’s uncle, wanting to know if Arvin had seen her lately. He shook his head, muttering an annoyed “No”. Joseph got the idea relatively quickly, exiting the room. He heard the chapel’s doors close, taking that as his queue to leave once he saw the time. So he grabbed his hat and his coat, leaving the office and making his way through the dimly lit space. His attention was caught, though, by the cross by the front pews, so beautifully shining. Arvin put down his things, and walked over to the pew, sitting down on the uncomfortable hardwood. He bowed his head, putting his interlocked fingers utop the surface in front of him.

He hadn’t done this in awhile, this whole praying thing. It seemed naive in his way of life, with the things that happened around him, the people lost. But nonetheless, if ever, now was a good time to try.

“Heavenly Father, I, I, uh, I need to talk to you. To, uh, set the record straight.” His hands were sweaty, tears welling in his eyes.

“Y/n, she’s- well she’s the love of my life, God, and I don’t think she loves me anymore. Hell, she wants me dead. But I don’t blame her, I couldn’t ever. Not after...” he paused, his bottom lip shaking, “Not if she thinks I killed her family. But I didn’t, Father, I didn’t and I could never. But she don’t see that. I need her to see that.” He raised his voice, the bitter droplets rolling down his reddened cheeks, hitting his shoes.

“I can’t live without her, I won’t. So I guess I’m askin’ you a favor, Lord. Just… let her know I didn’t do it, that I would never hurt her.” His voice cracked, his words barely audible, not that whoever was listening cared.

“That I love her so much.”

Arvin muttered something of an “Amen”, and then just sat there for he wasn’t sure how long. His silence was interrupted by a mellow and raw voice, cutting through the silence like the sharpest dagger.

“It was the Teagardin family. I just found out.”

Arvin stood and turned so fast he dizzied himself, having to hold onto the back of the pew for stability. His bottom lip quivered, his flushed features gaining a confused look.

“Y/n/n? How long you been there?” He questioned, not bothering to wipe his eyes. She shifted from one foot to the other, fumbling with her hands.

“Long enough.”

There was a mutual understanding at her few words from the two of them, and an apology within them all the same. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose runny and her overall appearance disheveled. Despite that, just the fact that she was there, to him, made her the most beautiful girl in the world.

Arvin could tell she was holding herself back, her emotions, too, as she started to speak, barely able to get through a sentence as she rambled about how she shouldn’t have assumed things, and that it wasn’t right of her to accuse her beloved of something so dire. But none of it mattered to Arvin as he strode towards her, her words only ceasing when he finally wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Arv.” She sobbed, gripping onto him for dear life. That was all she said, repeating it over and over again with the exception of “I love you” also being reiterated.

Her husband spoke over her hushed tone, saying “It’s alright, doll, I know. You were right to think that, it’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” They continued that way for some time until they both regained their bearings, Arvin wrapping an arm around her shoulders and walking down the front stairs of the chapel.

“Let’s go home, sweet girl.” He had said, so they did. Arvin kissed the side of her head, regarding once more how he loved her, before starting the ride home, his hand on her thigh the whole time, not wanting to let her go for even a second.

His mind was plagued with thoughts of the past, and he remembered an old saying he had heard long ago. What was it? Ah, you know what they say.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

·。·。·。

how we feeling folks did we like? gimme feedback if u wanna! mwah love u, take care of urself

xx hj

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starglow-xx · 3 years

Text

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 3)

platonic! yosano akiko x f! reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff but trigger warning!! there may be a sensitive topic for others

*getting grabbed and pulled to an alleyway! alcohol mentioned!*

please remember that yokohama isn’t the friendliest place, especially at night.

previous: part 2 : their beloved president

author’s note: same ages as last time!! (so that means everyone is one year younger than canon; that makes yosano 24)

this one is actually pretty long :0

i got info abt her likes on her wiki page (careful! there’s spoilers!)

and yosano is a queen and no one can tell me otherwise

the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

going grocery shopping was an okay chore in your opinion

it honestly depended on your mood or whatever kind of shit happens when you go shopping

cause like something always, always happens whenever you go do groceries

sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, and sometimes it’s just plain weird

one time some weirdo proposed to you in the middle of the store asking for a double suicide

he was good looking you’d admit but it’s not like you’d ever see him again

or so you thought

a n y w a y s

every so often, you’d run out of real person food in your apartment

you mostly survive off all of the leftover bakery treats and ingredients—which works out pretty well actually—but bakery supplies unfortunately also run out quite often

and also unfortunately, one time when both fukuzawa & ranpo took a visit to Sakura’s, fukuzawa argued that “no you can’t live off sweets for the rest of your life”

ranpo was scandalized and scrambled to cover your ears

you guys were at it for a while

in the end you sided with fukuzawa causing ranpo to go off about “betrayal from the people he cared most abt” or smth like that

you guys were okay again after bribing him with sweets :)

for bakery supplies you usually have them delivered bc you order them in large quantities bc ahaha no way were you gonna carry like 15-20 50 pound bags of flour no way

when days like those happen, you close up the bakery early so you aren’t walking home when it’s too dark

you scheduled it to happen every first saturday of the month

on those saturdays, you close at 5 instead of at 8

currently, you were at the grocery store looking for basic cooking ingredients such as proteins, vegetables, fruits, and most importantly, snacks

ranpo’s been rubbing off on you

the sun was starting to set and you were walking home with your two bags of groceries when shit went down

tbh you were kinda expecting it cause your grocery run was peaceful for once

but what you weren’t expecting was a wack-a-do to appear out of goddamn nowhere right when you were opening the side door to get to the staircase up to your apartment

like honestly

let a woman do her own thing

the man who grabbed you tried to covered your mouth so you couldn’t scream but you didn’t exactly make it easy for him

you kicked and thrashed around even using the grocery bags—that were somehow still in your hand—as a weapon and the man struggled but he was still bigger than you and was able to bring you to a nearby alley

he reeked of alcohol and you spotted a wedding band on his left hand

not that you cared about the detail in the moment

you kicked him in the groin and in response he let you go only to fall on broken glass that was in the alley way

using the wall to help yourself up, you grabbed a nearby wooden stick and struck him right on his back

your attacker fell and you immediately turned on your heels to escape only to fall back down on the hard cold ground once again

you lift your face up and look back to see the man holding onto your ankle

grabbing a shard of glass—cutting yourself in the process— you begin to swing it at him only for him to easily grip your wrist and stop you

you get ready try and kick him in the groin again but you’re interrupted as your attacker gets sucker punched and flies to wall

you look up to see your savior and you’re blessed to see a beautiful woman, probably not that much older than you are—she’s probably around ranpo’s age— donning a white long sleeve button up, a matching black necktie, knee length skirt, and gloves, along with tights, red heels, and a pretty butterfly clip in her short black hair

but what you really notice is her eyes

ranpo’s eyes were pretty but you like hers just a bit more

you’ve always liked the color magenta

the pretty lady holds out her hand and you take it graciously and thank her as she helps you up

as that’s happening, your attacker gets himself onto his feet and his groan catches both of your attention

he struggles to stand and the pretty lady simples saunters over to him and delivers an uppercut knocking him out cold

you’re stunned and you breathe out a “thank you” making her turn towards you

she notices the condition you’re in

bleeding scrapes on your hands, arms and legs, small rips in your clothes like your tights, blouse, and skirt, and the ruffled state of your hair and clothing

she asks if you live nearby and you tell her that you own the bakery that’s one or two buildings away

when you tell her that, it clicks in her mind that you must be the bakery girl ranpo’s been talking about and the friend fukuzawa was cat sitting for

it’s been abt two weeks since ranpo and fukuzawa first met you and since then, they’ve seen lucky in the office plenty and the boxes of your signature sweets even more

if those two trust you, she has no reason not to

she smiles at you, holds out her hand for you to shake, and introduces herself as the doctor of the armed detective agency

your eyes widen and you smile back at her shaking her hand

“ah! you must be yosano-sensei then! ranpo-san and fukuzawa-san have talked about you! it’s so nice to meet you! im (l/n) (y/n)!”

“they’ve talked about you too, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you (y/n)”

after that exchange she insisted on bringing you home to treat you wounds which you told her it wasn’t necessary

she gave you a pointed look and that was when you realized what state you were in

you sighed and weakly gave in to which she only grinned at

before leaving the alley she walks over to the unconscious man and pulls out his wallet for some sort of identification and home address as you try to see if there’s any groceries still salvageable

after texting the details to kunikida, yosano turns to you poking around the now ruined grocery bags

she simply rubs your back and tells you that the both of you could go buy more groceries together as she was meaning to get some anyways; she even said she’ll pay for you

you refused obviously but she, unknowingly, used the same tactic fukuzawa used with you

“so you’re saying you don’t need groceries?”

“...”

*cue an eyebrow raise from our resident queen*

“...you agency members don’t like making things easy for me huh.”

you gave in reluctantly and at this point you don’t even know why you try negotiating with them

and that’s only three of them

apparently, she was on the other side of the street on the way to buy groceries for the agency when she noticed different produce items on the other sidewalk leading to the alley and she went to check out what happened

ironically, the way to the grocery store from the agency makes you go past Sakura’s but she didn’t realize it until after the two of you had met

before you know it, the two of you are in your apartment kitchen as she cleans and patches up all of your wounds

as she does so the two of you have a little girl talk

you find it quite comforting bc since you opened up Sakura’s you haven’t really had the chance to connect to many people much less other women

you definitely see yosano as your cool, loving, badass older sister

she thinks you’re adorable and agrees with ranpo’s opinion

yup

that’s right

the opinion that you’re like a little kid </3

you called it a betrayal and all she did was laugh at you <//3

“awhh that’s really cool yosano-sensei!—MFPH?!?”

*squishing your cheeks the same way ranpo did* “ranpo-san was right (n/n)-chan, your cheeks are squishy!”

“?!”

after that small fiasco, the two of you talked some more and bonded over your love for flowers, japanese sweets, and much more!!

you even made a date to have a girls day to go shopping and eat out!

you’re internally squealing a bit bc it’s been a while since you’ve gone shopping

yosano notices and she giggles behind her hand not saying anything bc she knows you’ll only throw a fit

the two of you came around the topic of ranpo when lucky passed by

lucky quickly warmed up to the doctor and cozied up in her lap

“i wish ranpo-san was able to meet lucky when he came by the first time, but then again, he’d probably throw a tantrum if i don’t pay attention to him for 5 seconds”

she snorted at that and like fukuzawa, she shared stories abt the slightly older male

“ranpo-san doesn’t know how to ride a train?”

“unbelievable right?”

“for someone so intelligent i expected more from him”

“i’ll be telling that to ranpo-san, (n/n)-chan”

“wha—?! yosano-sensei please don’t!”

like ranpo, she’s also a tease </3

but you love her anyway <3

eventually, she finished patching you up and promised to treat you to a new set of clothes when the two of you go out

“you don’t need to lose a good set of clothes just because of a sleazy man (n/n)-chan! you deserve better!”

you were going to argue that the rips in your clothes were fairly small and could easily be fixed—except the tights—but you stopped in your tracks when you remembered that it was practically useless to argue against an ada member

the two of you walked to the grocery store and bought both of your needed supplies—along with some extra goodies—and then she walked you back to your place bc it was already a bit dark out

but even if it wasn’t, she would walk you anyways

besides, if anything happened to you, she’s 1000% positive that ranpo and fukuzawa are gonna flip the fuck out not that she wont cause she most definitely will

speaking of which

you were drinking a bottle of water as the two of made your way back to Sakura’s when all of a sudden

“(y/n) you do realize that i have to tell shachou and ranpo-san about what happened today right?”

you choked on your water

“yosano-sensei you can’t! if you do they’ll freak! they won’t leave me alone for at least two weeks! one if im lucky!”

“exactly the point”

you just accepted your defeat already knowing that you’d lose

but maybe you can simmer down their anger towards the bastard with sweets and lucky

you arrived at Sakura’s shortly after and after bringing groceries in, you packaged a bunch of pastries leftover from today—bc you closed early—and bc you’re well aware that ranpo doesn’t share any of the sweets you send him with

you even gave yosano her own special box filled with goodies she loves, and a thermos of fukuzawa’s favorite, your special hot honey lemon tea

other than the sweets, you prepared lucky to spend the night at fukuzawa’s

you really really hoped that doing these things would make them calm down

you shivered at the thought of what their responses would be

you felt really bad for giving yosano all these things to carry and that you were keeping her very late

she assured you that she was fine and that if someone tried to mess with her she’d kick their ass

and after exchanging numbers, the magenta eyed queen bid you a good night and walked back to the agency with lucky walking by her heels

arriving back at the agency, yosano was greeted with some concerns asking if she was alright bc she came back from her grocery run pretty late

(she usually goes in the mornings but today was pretty busy so she left in the late afternoon but now it was already dark)

she waved off the concerns and plopped a couple boxes of your signature bakery boxes at ranpo’s desk, the one for her at her own, the last few boxes in the kitchen for any other agent or clerk to grab, placed the thermos on the desk fukuzawa was by, and picked up lucky and handed him to the president

the two males were pleased with what yosano had brought them, and pleased that another agency member had the chance to meet you

fukuzawa was rubbing lucky and ranpo already snacking on treats as yosano expected

but here comes the hard part

or maybe it’s gonna amusing who knows

“i met (y/n) today.”

“we could tell.”

in goes another treat in the green eyed man’s mouth

“would you like to know how?”

“you bumped into each other, had girl talk, made plans to go out, went grocery shopping, and you brought me and shachou presents.”

“great job ranpo-san, you’re almost completely correct.”

this caught the attention of basically everyone bc they knew ranpo was never “almost completely correct”

“we ended up meeting bc she got attacked on her way home from grocery shopping, i treated her wounds, then we had girl talk and did all the other stuff”

ranpo and fukuzawa froze right in their tracks

“i sent all the info of the bastard to kunikida”

“kunikida.”

“yes shachou”

“find out everything about that man and bring it to me and ranpo”

“...yes shachou”

“and yosano”

“yes?”

“text (y/n) and tell her that her cat, tea, and pastries aren’t going to work as a bribe”

just as you finished taking a shower you sneezed

<<previous // next >>

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bbugyu · 4 years

Text

no warning + xu minghao

he saw you laying there, swimming in his pillows, and suddenly he never wanted you to leave.

wc.2803 | smut, fluff, this is some real sappy shit, fuckbuddies to crushbuddies, artist/uni au, yall probably go to nyu or sumn, cursing, mentions of alcohol use, fem reader (sorry), realization of feelings mid-coitous, someone please stop me from writing more vanilla porn

suddenly just really needed to write this? idk man. based off the song sleeping in my t-shirt by zak waters! because apparently i only write fics abt boys getting turned on by their partner wearing their clothes.

"fuck, i am so not excited to walk home. it's so cold outside."

"stay, then."

you both had only just slipped your underwear on when the words came from minghao, and you watched as he settled back into his pillows and lifted an arm for you to lay under, a far cry from what had happened on those pillows less than five minutes earlier. you thought of his hand on the back of your neck, pushing you into the mattress while he fucked you silly from behind, and you decided you must still be drunk when you spotted his shirt hanging off the side of the bed, pulled it over your head, and settled into his side.

the two of you exclusively met under the cover of nightfall, but you never slept. an unspoken agreement, that the two of you used each other to relieve stress and fill a need, not for comfort or love. minghao was a man of few words. you never spoke to him much outside of quick conversations and whatever filthy shit he felt like saying while you were under him, but he seemed intelligent and kind. you met him the first time at a school run art show that you were both in. you really loved his paintings, and he made an insightful comment about the societal implications of your mixed media sculpture before you were dragging each other into a bathroom.

minghao was fun, you thought. you were compatible, probably, considering how good of a lay he was, but it had never even crossed your mind to let it go any further than that. you knew he felt the same way - minghao was someone that couldn't not be honest - happy to call upon you at 1 in the morning when he was feeling needy, or to come home with you when you ran into each other at a party, but always walking you to his apartment building's entrance or slipping out of your dorm room before either of you could even think about spending the night. he was candid. knew what he wanted. you did, too, and neither of you thought you wanted anything more than you had.

when minghao was suddenly ripped from sleep by his hangover, he winced into his palm and rolled out of bed. stumbling only once, he made his way to the bathroom to chug a glass of water and immediately take a piss. he pushed a thumb between his eyebrows to attempt to alleviate some pressure, a steadying hand landing the wall in the hall outside his bedroom.

he blinked and looked into his room, noticing the figure on his bed for the first time since waking. you were framed by the doorway, your beautiful curves barely hidden under his own shirt. the thin fabric cascaded down your skin in a way that made gravity look like an artist and you it's canvas. his cloudy brain felt clear, suddenly, and he struggled to understand why. minghao stared at your form, knowing full well that you could make his hot blood pump, but since when did you start making his heart race?

he closed his door behind him as quietly as he could. almost cautiously, minghao returned to his bed, pulling at the loose covers until they were over both of your bodies. he stared at your sleeping face for a moment, wondering if he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life. his fingers itched for a paintbrush as he hovered over you, elbows planted on either side of your ribcage. you stirred slightly, and he shoveled a hand under your waist and pulled you into his chest, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

as you awoke, you squinted at minghao's ear, recognizing it but still slightly confused. you resigned to letting out a soft groan as his lips moved to your neck. "what's all this?"

"you stayed the night," minghao said, pulling back to let his eyes flick across your face, brushing your hair from your lips as your arms settled around his shoulders. the early morning light that peeked through his curtains made you think that it was far too soon after you had passed out to be awake again, but you thought it highlighted his features well. "you never stay the night."

you kept squinting at him, doing your best to remember the night before as your fingers carded through his hair. "you told me to."

the smile on his lips was brief, but didn't go unnoticed. he kissed down your jaw, expertly pulling a small noise of enjoyment from your lips, his fingers splaying under his shirt across your waist, feeling as much of you as he could before skating it over your ass and down your thigh. you gasped when he bit at the vein below your ear, causing your thighs to part just enough for him to slip his hand over your clothed core. you groaned again, wiggling your hips slightly as you stretched, still working through your sleepiness.

"are you not satisfied?" you joked, your voice laced with the fragments of a yawn. you felt his lips part on your neck, and you had half a mind to believe he was smiling as he slowly began rubbing you above the fabric of your underwear.

"i don't think i can ever get enough of you."

a low moan left your dry lips, and you bit at them as he teased you, gripping any part of him you could - his hair, shoulders, bicep. it took a moment, but your arousal woke soon after you. your limbs tingled in anticipation as his long, lean fingers ran across your slit, giving you less than you wanted. "minghao, please."

"shh," he brought his face to yours, planting a kiss on your lips between your whimpers. "patience."

minghao knew you. and he knew your patience was thin. even still, he enjoyed the noises that fell from you as he circled your clit, feeling the moisture gather at your perfect tight hole. swiftly, he pulled aside your panties and swirled his middle finger in your juices, pushing the prepared finger into you. you gasped, clutching him closer. "f-fuck."

he admired the way your eyebrows knit together, your eyes squeezed shut. he kissed along your neck again, making your curl your nails into the back of his neck, surely leaving crescent moon imprints as he pumped a finger into you, his palm rubbing against you in a way that made you squirm. your breath was labored, maybe still partially asleep, and you couldn't help the sustained moan that tumbled from your lips when he added his ring finger. you wondered, briefly, how a man's hand could feel as good as his. how he managed to park you right outside of an orgasm just by pumping a couple fingers into your vaguely sore pussy.

and he kissed you. it wasn't the first time, of course, your mouths had been all over each other many times before. but the way he slotted his lips against yours made you whine, thighs squeezing shakily around his wrist. he slowed his pumping slightly, working your lips into the open mouthed kisses he craved from you. you gasped into his mouth, and he curled his fingers in you, pushing skillfully against his favorite spot of yours. your eyes opened, eyebrows raised and staring at him in awe of the feeling. he watched you a moment, hair splayed across his pillow, and wondered how many times he had underappreciated this view.

"h-hao-"

he kissed you quickly. "yes?"

"please let me cum."

he looked at the clock on his bedside table. "it's only six in the morning and you wanna cum?"

you pushed a frustrated closed fist against his chest. "you started this, you better finish it."

normally, your attitude would have earned you an extra five minutes of teasing and a stinging red handprint on your ass, but minghao found your blown out pupils and your sleep riddled gaze endearing. he kissed you again, curling his fingers as he pumped into you. you let out a squeal, hands moving from his chest to his shoulders to his neck, trying to grip any amount of him as you tried to hold on through your orgasm. you trembled as his fingers slowed in you, letting him place gentle kisses all across your face. you blushed, unused to the intimacy. if you were in a less dazed state, you would have commented on it, but minghao's palm kept you quiet as it unhurriedly rubbed against your almost overstimulated nub, fingers remaining in you.

despite your release, you ground against his hand, biting at your lip again. the corner of minghao's mouth quirked upwards, pleased with your responsiveness. "do me a favor, baby."

you blinked, your hands landing on his chest as he began pumping his fingers again. "what kind?" you asked, forcing the words out instead of the whines that wanted to escape you.

"grab a rubber."

your hand immediately went to the table, feeling for the drawer handle. you peeked once to pull it open before shoving a hand into the abyss, fumbling for the familiar foil packet. minghao admired the way your chest rose and fell, the way your thighs moved slightly as he worked you up again. the way your eyes shone at him slightly when you successfully presented a condom to him. he chuckled lightly, his hand never leaving your core as he forced his boxer briefs down his hips. he pulled back until he was sitting between your legs, discarding his underwear. "you know where it goes."

your back arched at his fingers brushing against a sensitive spot before he helped you up, pulling you by the arm with his free hand, the angle of his fingers changing and pulling a wanton moan from your lips. with half lidded eyes, you ripped the shirt from your body, minghao's hand running up your side to caress a mound while you tore open the condom and rolled it down his length, hands lingering on the member as you felt your mouth water. he scissored his fingers in you before squeezing your thigh and pulling the fingers out. you watched, mouth slightly agape, as he sucked your juices off his own hand.

you hardly even registered him pulling your panties down your legs, but every part of you felt on fire as he pushed you back onto the bed, caging you in as he readied himself at your entrance.

you were gripping his jaw when his hips pushed into yours, and you moaned into his parted lips. "fuck, you feel good."

minghao would have returned the sentiment if he could think of anything to say, but his mind was blank as he sank into you, suddenly realizing that the feeling of you was much more intoxicating than any liquor he had ever had. he slipped his hands under you, lifting your bare chest to press against his, wrapping his arms around your body. you whined as he thrusted into you, his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive nub, your fingers grasping at his jaw and sinking into the hair at his nape as he groaned against your lips.

"fuck, hao-" feeling your breath, short and hot against his ear, was the only thing that made him realize his forehead had sunk to the pillow beside you. he attempted to compose himself, pulling back, pressing a hand into your hip and pushing into you slower than his previous pace. your hands stayed on his neck, and he stared down at you.

"the sun suits you," he said. and with only those four words, you realized that minghao needed more from you than your previously agreed upon arrangement. you also realized that you might need more, too. your fingers brushed aside the hair falling over his brow, and you pulled him back down to kiss you. despite the fact that he never asked, and you never responded, he knew your lips on his was a confirmation. the resounding yes you had given him was never vocalised, but he tasted it on your tongue as it fought with his, felt the electricity in your fingers as they dug into his hair and gripped at his shoulders. he knew it from the way your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him even closer to you.

you gasped when his pace quickened slightly, the familiar coil winding tightly in your gut. "minghao," you whined, pressing your head into the pillow. "right there."

he let out a delicious low groan at the way you tightened around him, his hips almost stuttering to a stop just then. his grip surely bruised your hip as he held his own end back, continuing to roll into you until you were babbling against his lips, a white hot wave washing over your body. you quaked against him, and he held your jaw steady, foreheads together, as your tight walls milked him dry.

you were panting, staring up his eyelashes against his cheek. you had always thought minghao looked intimidating, even when he was laying you out. but, in this moment, as he opened his eyes slowly, all you saw was a boy finally giving into something he wanted.

he kissed you, his lips pressing gently against yours. you let out a small noise when his lips moved, letting your head fall to the side as he worked down your neck again. you whined as he slipped out of you, desperately trying to keep your grip on one of his hands as he sat up to trash the rubber. he laced his fingers with yours, his other hand running up your torso and his lips settling on the peak of a breast.

"minghao," you warned, gripping his hand tighter. again, you could have sworn you felt him smile against your skin as he worked his way down your body. he ran his hand down your thigh, pushing it to the side to open you up. "w-what are you doing?"

"nothing," he muttered against your inner thigh, slipping his hand from yours to push your other thigh out of his way. he placed kisses on your thigh in a line, pointed directly to your core. your hands gripped at the sheets, at his hair, anything they could when he licked a stripe up your slit. you moaned, your back arching off the mattress as he pulled your thighs over his shoulders.

his tongue gently lapped at your spent pussy, and it took everything in you to not squeeze his head between your thighs every time the tip of his tongue flicked against your clit.

minghao knew your body better than anyone. he knew your weaknesses and your sensitive spots. his lips felt like worship, and his hands ran up your body like he was making sure you didn't drift away. you wrapped your fingers around one of his hands, sighing when he laced his fingers with yours. "what did i do to deserve this?"

you caught a moment of eye contact when he looked up to you, giving you a bit of reprieve from his tongue against your core. "stayed over."

a laugh fell from your lips. "is that all?"

he ran his tongue through your folds again, eyes meeting yours. "be your beautiful self."

your face burned, partially from the state he had brought you to with his mouth, and somewhat because of the words that left his lips. a moan surprised you on its way out your lips as he slipped a digit into you, curling directly into your g spot. your knuckles turned white against his as he dug a third orgasm from you, your legs shaking helplessly as he held his tongue against you.

it took you yanking on minghao's hair before he pulled away from you, and you panted with your head buried in his pillows. "c'mere."

you didn't have to ask twice. minghao licked his lips and wiped at them briefly, licking his finger clean again, then wasted no time as he crawled back up to lay with you. your arms found his shoulders easily and he wrapped his around your torso, pulling you into his chest as he settled. your heart skipped a beat when he pressed a kiss against your cheek, and you wondered what the hell you had been doing keeping him as a booty call when he could make love like that.

"do you wanna get breakfast?"

you couldn't help but laugh at the sudden question.

"later, i mean," minghao clarified. "after more sleep."

"are you asking me out, hao?"

it was his turn to laugh, his hand running down your side. "uh, yeah. i am, i guess."

you smiled, your palm resting on his jaw as you kissed him. "i'd love to."

#HAHAHA #im so sorry #hao <333333 yk #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #xu minghao imagines #xu minghao scenarios #the8 imagines #the8 scenarios #the8 smut #minghao smut #xu minghao smut #i wrote dis #hao #when will i stop using the warnings section like tags on ao3 #never probably

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cheswirls · 3 years

Text

you won't remember / i won't forget [ 1/2 ]

[this ended up being my creative project october, wholly inspired by dakumes' old art. its 10k each half so be careful if you have a 'read more' extension. rip mobile users ig. thanks again @hoo-kie for letting me ramble abt this one !]

he brings daisies, today.

sabo takes them warily as they’re pushed into his arms, careful of the iv in his right hand. the bouquet is lovely, the white petals fresh, like they had just been picked, and the yellow centers seeming to stare up at him, warm color nice and inviting, bringing a hesitant smile to his face.

after a moment he bends down to sniff them, and closes his eyes at the smell, his mouth falling open to breathe it in. “they’re lovely,” he murmurs, just loud enough for the room’s other occupant to hear.

“they’re your favorite,” is his reply, and sabo’s shoulders tense at the information release.

“o-oh,” he stammers, holding the bouquet at a distance. he works to keep his face neutral, but it’s hard, his former wary smile quickly wanting to morph into a full-blown frown. it’s not that he doesn’t doubt that it’s true -they smell amazing, so it must be to some extent- but more that it was being handed to him as fact, presented as evidence of something he wasn’t ready to believe.

“here, let me take them,” his visitor says, reaching out to grab the flowers. his callused fingers brush against the backs of sabo’s hands and the blond bites down on his lower lip at the contact. “i should’ve brought a vase or somethin’, that was my bad.” he either doesn’t notice sabo’s obvious discomfort or is blatantly ignoring it -both options are equally possible- and he moves to set the bouquet on the windowsill, open now that the blinds had been drawn.

sabo folds his hands in his lap, having nothing better to do with them. he stares at the scars, at the bandaids covering fresh marks, and runs his thumb over one until the motion begins to irritate where his iv was stuck.

his visitor -ugh, he really should stop calling him that. he had a name, it’s just that sabo never bothered to remember it. but when he turns back to take a seat on the edge of sabo’s hospital bed, the early morning light reflects off his visitor nametag, and sabo reads the name again: ace.

“are you feeling any better today?” he asks, and sabo moves his gaze away once again.

“i guess,” he mutters. ace’s face falls at the dismissive attitude, but he doesn’t leave. it bothers sabo, but another, very small part of him feels warm. he does his best to tune it out.

he looks up again to find ace watching him, and lowers his eyes, examining his clothes instead. his window didn’t provide a great view, so this was his only real way to gauge the weather.

if he had to guess, it was cold. ace was in a red coat, scuffed up here and there but otherwise looking rather nice. his boots were honey-tanned, the laces done up loosely so that the tops flopped open. they had more signs of wear than the coat, so if sabo had to guess, he’d probably had them for some time.

sabo reaches a hand up and pushes his fringe out of his face, sighing. the movement causes ace to lean forward.

“have the nurses said anything new?”

what’s it to you? sabo wants to bite out, but he withholds his tongue. “they haven’t been by,” he mutters instead, which was partially true. they hadn’t been by, since ace was last here, that he could tell. but his bandages weren’t frayed anymore, from his constant picking, and his iv was near full. it was odd-colored, too, which would probably explain why he couldn’t feel anything apart from a low thrum from his head. his ankles felt freer, too, brushing against the low-grade cotton of the sheets, which probably meant the wrapping around them had been removed.

he hasn’t looked yet. he’s not sure he wants to.

a low knock on the open door gets his attention, and sabo looks up as one of the nurses wanders in, lowering her hand and raising a clipboard.

“mr. portgas? i’m here to take your vitals, if you’re ready.”

ace blinks, then stands. “do i need to-?”

the nurse glances to him as she takes a seat on a stool at sabo’s bedside. “you can stay,” she tells him, smiling. “as long as it’s okay with sabo.”

they both turn to stare and sabo drops his eyes to the mint green of his hospital shirt. “sure.”

this nurse looks familiar, but they had been rotating his room, so if he was told anything important about her, he’d already forgotten. she’s gentle as she takes his left arm to push on a bp cuff, but with a sort of carelessness that leaves her nails scraping on the bandages. he hardly notices, though, and that’s when he knows for sure he’s on some kind of morphine.

she finishes after a few minutes and sabo leans his head back against the pillows as she scribbles down a set of numbers. he doesn’t care, but she tells him he was normal anyways. the news seems to satisfy ace, if anything.

he glances to the window as she leaves and accidentally meets his eyes. they’re dark when he’s turned away from the light like this, but sabo can still tell they’re grey. he turns away quickly. it really was too early for this.

as if agreeing with him, ace’s stomach grumbles and he places his arms over it in a hurry, cheeks colored. “uh, guess i forgot to eat before coming in,” he mumbles. he straightens after a moment, nodding to the door. “‘m gonna grab something real quick. you want anything?”

by ‘something’, he means whatever he can find from the vending machine at the end of the hall. at most it’ll give sabo a few minutes of respite. he purses his lips. “they have me on a regulated diet,” he reminds ace, like he didn’t already know.

ace grins, moving around the bed and throwing his hands into his coat. it spreads at the edges as he draws his arms taut, resting just below his hip. “you could sneak it. a little wouldn’t do you any harm.” but he shrugs, giving up before sabo could protest. “i’ll be right back.”

sabo grips the sheets hard as ace slides the door shut. a part of him never wants the other to come back; another part of him knows he always does.

sabo takes a risk and curls his legs under the thin sheets. he holds his breath as he slides the blanket down, removing them one by one. the pants he was given were the same bland mint as his shirt, and they cut off at the top of his calves, leaving most of his lower leg exposed. now that the bandages are gone, he can see the obvious rope marks at his ankles, skin still badly discolored but no longer open. he breathes deep at the sight, gasping before he remembers he’d been withheld air, and then closes his eyes and works to steady his breathing.

he folds his legs up more and reaches a hand down to brush against the gnarled skin. even as light as he is, it’s still very sensitive, and he ends up pulling away quicker than he’d like. he frowns at the sight, curving his legs the opposite way to view the other side. it’s the first injury he’s seen, the others always wrapped up. he’d been too anxious to remove the simple bandaids after their presence lingered for a few days, nervous of what he’d find. when he picks at the wrapping on his arms, it’s fixed before he can get anywhere, smoothed down like he hadn’t bothered in the first place.

a quick inhale gains his attention, and sabo looks up to see ace just inside the room, hand still on the doorknob. he pulls a long face and reaches out to drag the blanket over his feet, hiding the marks. then he moves his legs until they’re pressed against his chest. but the pressure ends up causing discomfort, and sabo wonders not for the first time just what his shirt was concealing. he huffs and ends up sliding his legs straight again. they catch the edge of the sheet and push it back, revealing the marks again as his legs lay bare.

ace comes closer, sliding into the chair at sabo’s left, and his eyes swivel from the injury to sabo’s face, watching him closely. “do they hurt?” he asks after a minute.

“no,” sabo answers, letting the air settle before replying. he wants to divulge more, say something about his light touch irritating them, but another part of him vehemently doesn’t, and he chooses to trust the logic of the latter.

ace sits quietly for a while, and sabo realizes it’s the first time he’s seen any of his injuries either.

“how?” he speaks up, loud in the silence. he swallows, because that had been impulsive, but ace is looking at him, and he can’t take it back now. “how did i get them?”

ace’s expression becomes pained, and he turns away, looking to the wall. his hands, resting calmly on his thighs, move to entangle, and sabo watches as they restlessly fumble. his eyes narrow.

“do you . . really want to know?”

sabo blinks, caught off-guard by the question, by the hesitance in ace’s tone. after all this time, after revealing little random nothings about the blond, now he was stalling on something he actually-

“tell me,” sabo demands, teeth gritted.

ace’s grey eyes catch in the light as he turns back to look at sabo, alarmed. they grow lax after a moment, and he nods, sullenly glancing to the door before giving sabo his full attention. “restraints.”

sabo blinks at the concise reply, furrowing his brow in irritation. he’s quick to smooth it out, bringing a hand up as the pain hits. he doesn’t know what to think. it was vague, but ace spoke like it was supposed to be significant. “restraints,” he echoes, voice bland.

ace’s hand is reached out, but he drops it as sabo glances back up. “yeah.”

sabo suppresses the shiver in his body. him being succinct suddenly scared sabo more than anything. if he was hesitant to disclose what all had happened, well . .

just how bad was it?

“mr portgas?”

sabo moves his book further down his face to see a nurse at the door. he lets it fall face-down into his lap, giving her his attention as she moves into the room. she looks familiar, with her straight black hair, but sabo can't place her.

“i’m here to take your vitals,” she says. sabo nods and she takes a seat at his bedside, setting a clipboard down on a small table she rolls closer. she picks up a pulse monitor first and places it on sabo’s index finger.

when she's all done she tells him he was normal today, then leaves him to his reading. sabo picks the book back up but his gaze is caught on the stack of progress sheets on his door, and he finds himself wondering what all they said, if they disclosed anything he wasn’t already aware of.

the book is good. he’d acquired it the other day, and after removing the bookmark someone had left in it, he’d worked on it for a long while. he was almost halfway through now.

his mind wanders as he flips the page, wondering if he could ask the staff for another one. he’s not sure who this one belongs to, but he’ll have to return it. he wants to do that much.

“do you like it?”

sabo is startled as his visitor walks into the room. ace, he reads off the nametag. he frowns, realizing he hadn’t processed anything, and flips back a page. “it’s fine,” he mumbles, though he knows his progress spoke for itself.

ace moves to occupy the rolling chair the nurse had just been in. “do you want me to get you another one?”

sabo frowns deeper at this, but doesn’t look up from the pages. “no, that’s okay.” he didn’t want ace to give him anything. though, he thinks, glancing to his right, the flowers were nice. they were in a real vase now, getting light from the open window. they made the room smell good. less like ointment and antiseptic, something that didn’t make his nose burn.

ace doesn’t say anything else. he’s content to sit beside sabo as he reads, as the sun tracks higher and then lower into the sky, and the daisies begin to wilt from lack of light.

ace is lounging on a chair near the window, hands steepled, eyes turned toward the skyline. his legs are extended on the floor, only the backs of his heels touching the tile. he’s wearing the boots again, and the color is faded today, like frost had covered the top and had yet to melt off.

sabo observes him when he’s finished his book, last page still open to give the illusion he was reading. he drops the act when a nurse wanders in, holding up two cups of yogurt. sabo closes the book so it lies backwards on his thighs, then swings the overbed tabletop so it rested at an angle, closer but not exactly over him.

her hair dips over her shoulder when she reaches forward to hand sabo his lunch. he deposits both cups onto the table, then reaches back to take the plastic spoon from her grip. her nails clip one of the bandaids along his finger, and sabo blinks, a stern sense of deja-vu washing over him.

“if you can’t finish both, you can put one in the fridge over there,” she says, pointing to a mini fridge in the corner of the room, squished between the wall and a table of basic medical supplies.

sabo nods, wondering how he’s never noticed it before. she moves from the room after that, her long, dark hair fanning out over the back of her scrubs. the door shuts before sabo moves to open one of the tabs on the yogurt.

“you’re done with the book?” ace asks quietly, while sabo’s mouth is full. it’d been easier to ignore the eyes on his back when he wasn’t talking, but at least now, sabo doesn’t have to verbally respond, nodding instead.

sabo doesn’t trust ace, not yet, but the staff clearly seem to, so when he’s halfway through with the cup he puts it down in favor of the book, holding it out to him. “will you give this back?” he requests.

he doesn’t miss the way ace’s face drops as he reaches out to take it. he’s not sure how to interpret it, so he chooses not to, moving to finish his yogurt. he starts feeling funny at the end, so he sets it aside with a couple bites left, rolling his tongue in his mouth to try and work the feeling away.

ace is still sitting there, neck almost level with the back of the chair. his legs are bent, now, and both feet are firmly on the ground to hold himself in place. sabo doesn’t feel bad. he tells himself this. but, ace had been there all day, refusing to leave for anything. his mood was starting to wear on the blond.

“here,” sabo says, holding the second yogurt cup towards him. “you can have this.”

ace blinks, but stretches out an arm. it lingers there, both of their hands on the cup. “you’re sure?”

sabo shrugs, withdrawing. “i don’t want it.”

ace must know something he doesn’t, because he smiles as he brings the yogurt close. “thanks,” he says, but his smile crooks as he pulls the tab. his eyes wander to sabo’s spoon and the blond follows his gaze there, jerking a hand out to shield it from view.

“no,” he stresses. “get your own.” he jerks his hand to the table against the wall. “use one of those.”

ace’s shoulders are shaking with contained laughter, and he gets up with a jerky bow, too-long arm folding behind his back. “as you wish,” he purrs, and sabo doesn’t know how to feel about that. ace moves over to the table, humming as he looks everything over. his smile hasn’t left his face, but his brows grow pinched as he wonders what to use.

sabo regrets giving him the book, if only because he misses having something to do with his hands. it was good, too. he’d read it again if it was his own, especially because he wasn’t able to pick up on the lead’s motives, for some reason.

ace wanders back over to his chair with a tongue depressor, moving the seat close so that he can rest an elbow on sabo’s table. sabo glances at him again and then leans back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“i don’t even know you,” he mutters, one hand wandering up to clench his shirt, right where his heart is.

ace stills, food forgotten. “sabo . .” he tries.

“i don’t even know you!” his voice raises, but it’s not a yell, not yet. it’s enough to make ace go quiet, though, and he turns to face him. “why are you even here? why don’t you go somewhere else? i-” he cuts himself off as he feels his eyes water.

“my name is ace.” he sets the yogurt on the table, then pushes it aside to move closer to the bed. “i’ve been coming here every day for-”

“i know,” sabo interrupts. “i remember when you’re here.”

ace’s eyes widen. “that’s . . good. i’m glad.”

sabo fists the blanket tightly in both hands. “i’m not.” his eyes narrow. “you should go.”

ace looks pained, but he stands without argument. “if that’s what you want.”

sabo’s heart hurts as the door closes. he thinks it might hurt more than all his physical injuries, but he just can’t figure out why.

he’s propped up when he first wakes, not nearly as lucid as he should be. his eyes adjust to the room easily enough. it’s partially dark, the blinds half-open to let in the setting sun’s light. he puffs out a breath, face screwing up at the weight on his chest.

when he glances down, he finds himself bound in a blanket. stringy blond hair moves into the edge of his vision. he thinks, for how long it appears, it was weird how short it felt on the back. if he reached behind, he’d find a bald strip barely covered by the longer strands. but before he can, there’s a loud noise to his left, his earlier motion not going unnoticed.

“sabo!” a voice says, and he looks up to see someone in a hospital gown moving quickly to his bedside. “thank god you’re awake,” he says, looking close to tears, and he climbs up on the edge of the bed, one knee buried into the mattress. rough hands move up to cup his face, and he blinks, stunned by the emotion he’s greeted with. he inhales sharp, vision swimming, and leans out of the hold, bringing a hand to his forehead. his fingers bunch around tight bandages.

“sabo?” the voice comes again. “does it hurt? i can get the nurses. here, there should be a button-”

he reaches out and grips the other’s hand before he could press anything, one eye still screwed up. “i’m . . . overwhelmed,” he manages to say, slowly voicing his thoughts, sure he would be able to process them this way. the other settles down, nodding in understanding.

“you had surgery. they said you would-”

“no,” he grounds out. he drops the hand and gestures between them. “this.”

“what do you mean?”

“you know me,” he says, opening both eyes now to see the puzzlement cross the other’s face. “i can see that. but you aren’t-” he breaks off. “i mean i . . .” he trails off, shaking his head, eyes downcast.

“. . don’t.”

they tell him his name is sabo portgas. sabo doesn’t have anything to go off, so he takes what he’s given. he has a visitor, they say, from the room next door. his name is ace. he wanted to see sabo before he was discharged.

“it’s okay,” he hears ace tell the doctor, before he comes in. “i’m not worried. i’ll help him remember.”

“i admire you attitude, but it won’t be that easy,” the doctor warns. ace says something in a voice too low for sabo to hear. the doctor sighs. “remember to take care of yourself, too.”

“gotcha!” ace says, and then he’s pushing the door open. sabo watches him warily.

ace smiles until he shows his teeth and moves until he’s sitting at sabo’s bedside. “hey! feel any better?”

sabo gestures to the morphine drip. “i don’t feel anything, i assure you.”

ace laughs, his lips barely parted. “sorry for scaring you last time. i-”

“last time?” sabo mumbles, face screwing up in concentration.

ace’s morphs into one of disbelief. “you don’t . . remember?”

“i was told ace was coming but.” he shakes his head. “i’ve never met you before.”

ace’s eyes dim. then they glimmer, and he moves closer, setting both hands gently on each of sabo’s shoulders. he thought he could take this slow, but if he was regressing, if would be better to go all out from the beginning. “hey, sabo,” he says, voice so assertive it has blue eyes locked onto his in an instant. “i love you.”

sabo sits there for a while, until the air stings at his wide eyes. he thinks he’s forgotten to breathe in his shock. “you -what?!” his lips purse, affronted by the casual intimacy.

“i love you,” ace says again, leaning back. sabo is even more confused as he says it again. “i have for a long time, and i always will.” his grip tightens, crumpling the thin material of his hospital gown. “if you remember anything from today: remember that.”

and sabo does.

he remembers well into the night, long after ace has left, shooed out once visitor hours had ended. he falls asleep for a bit, and when he wakes, body sore, room dark, he still remembers ace’s determined look as he said that phrase sabo felt was misplaced.

he slams a hand on the call button before he can be sick. it’s a long night.

he shows up again first thing in the morning. sabo has to read the visitor tag for the name, but he remembers the face, and it makes him nervous, wary. ace is being far too assertive for someone in sabo’s position, and he’s unsure if he can trust him. he doesn’t know anything about him, so it’s hard to place his intentions.

sabo supposes he could try and learn, but it’s far easier to close himself off instead, to put some distance between the two of them. he wanted to know more about himself before he got to know the person claiming to be in love with him.

“hey, this green doesn’t look bad on you!” ace says one day, making a frame with his fingers to capture sabo in. he blinks up, distracted, and ace’s grin morphs. “dark blue would look better, though,” he admits. “too bad they don’t have it.” he leans back. “i’d bring you some, but uh, i just can’t afford it right now.” he perks up. “one day, though! before you leave, i swear it.”

“right,” sabo says, frowning. ace catches on, sitting back up straight.

“you okay? head hurt?”

“i like blue?” sabo mumbles, ace straining to hear the words.

he blinks when he does, nodding. “yeah. it matches your eyes,” he admits.

sabo lifts a hand to his face, wincing at the strain it puts on the iv. “my eyes are blue?”

ace jumps to his feet, and sabo shifts, eyeing him oddly. he holds a finger up. “wait here.”

he’s gone before sabo can reply that he’s got nowhere to go.

one of the nurses comes in, ace trailing her. they’re both smiling. “i hadn’t realized you never saw,” she admits, words directed to sabo, though he doesn’t know what she means. she takes out a small pocket mirror and places it in front of sabo, until he’s reached out to hold it in his own hands.

his reflection stares back at him. when he blinks, cerulean eyes blink back. his face is pale, too pale. there’s a bandaid on his cheek. he moves the mirror higher and cards a hand through his hair. it’s definitely seen better days.

he hands the mirror back. “thank you.”

she shakes her head. “thank ace. he’s the one who brought it up.” she waves. “let me know if you need anything else.”

ace waves back, settling again on the edge of the bed as she leaves. “they’re pretty,” he voices, and sabo looks up again.

“my eyes?”

“your eyes,” ace clarifies. “they’ve always been pretty.”

sabo blinks, feeling drawn away from the conversation. he could’ve handled it, but the last part got him, the insinuation that he didn’t know if he could trust.

“you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday,” he blurts out, because ace is still staring at him but he doesn’t want that conversation drawn out.

ace looks down at himself, then lets out a meek laugh. “it’s all i have right now,” he reveals. “but i’m working on it.”

sabo has no idea what he means, but he doesn’t move to question it. he doesn’t care enough yet.

the next time ace comes in, sabo’s bandages are unraveled from his arms. the edges are bloody, and there are red partial fingerprints staining his right arm. he’s still dragging his fingers down his left, unbothered as the stitches come open, blood seeping from the long cut running down his inner arm.

ace drops his package, and it lands on the tile with a loud thunk. “sabo!” he frets, instantly by the blond’s side, forcing him to stop. “you can’t do that! you’re opening them! doesn’t it hurt?”

“i wanted to see,” he murmurs, focused on the feeling of ace’s hand wrapped around his bloody one. “they would never let me see. i’ve been trying, i think.” he shakes his head. “it doesn’t hurt.”

“that doesn’t matter!” ace snaps, and sabo blinks, ripped from his daze. “you can’t hurt yourself like this,” he tells sabo, using his free hand to hit the call button. “it won’t get better if you keep messing with it.”

“what’s-? oh. oh no, sabo.” a nurse comes in and hurries over, turning sabo’s left arm gently in her grasp. “you shouldn’t mess with these. you’ll only make them worse.”

sabo frowns, offended. “i only wanted to see what they looked like.”

“you can do that once they’re all better,” the nurse assures him. she looks across to his other arm, and her gaze softens. “let me get some water and i’ll help you clean up.” she glances to ace. “stay here?” watch him? she doesn’t say, but she doesn’t have to. ace nods, hand clasped tight around sabo’s.

“it doesn’t hurt,” sabo mumbles, after she’s cleaned the blood off and prepped the needle with anesthetic.

“just in case,” she tells him, inserting the needle. ace watches her work as she sews up sabo’s left arm, holding onto his right. they switch as she preps another needle with local anesthetic, and sabo looks very bored as the same process is repeated on his other arm.

ace doesn’t relax until both of sabo’s arms are bandaged back up. sabo is the opposite, growing more taut as his wounds are hidden from him. again.

“where did i get these?” he holds out his arms for emphasis. ace purses his lips, and that drives sabo up the wall. “you know!” he accuses. “you know and you’re not saying anything! you have to know how frustrating that is. do-” he pauses, a thought dawning on him. “was it you?”

ace’s expression changes immediately. “no,” he breathes, and sabo almost feels bad for accusing him, but it makes sense, too.

“you were involved, then,” sabo surmises. “that’s why you’re here -you feel guilty.”

“sabo, listen to me.” ace moves closer, and sabo flinches, forcing him to stop short. “you have the wrong idea.” he leans back again, and his hands go to the hem of his shirt.

sabo watches as he raises it, revealing the bandages wrapped around his ribs. he can see the bruising peeking out from the edges of the white. or, grey, more like. sabo imagined it’s what his own would look like, if the hospital staff wasn’t so vigorous in changing them out. he mellows out, just a bit.

“i was there, but i didn’t -i would never hurt you,” ace stresses. “i was with you. you just ended up with more damage than me.” he bites his lip, hard, his eyes no longer on sabo. “i’m sorry, for that. if i could switch our places, i would, i’d do it in a heartbeat.”

sabo is silent for a long time, mulling this over.

“maybe it’s a trauma bond,” he suggests, and ace blinks rapidly.

“sorry, what?”

“we went through the same experience, and now you’re attached to me.” sabo shrugs. “it happens.”

“wh- no.” ace shakes his head. “sabo, no, that’s not it. i’ve been with you long before that. what happened was unfortunate, but it-”

“then what is it?!” sabo yells. “what are we?” his lower lip trembles, and he forces himself to hold the tears back, even as he feels his eyes burn. “just tell me already,” he says hoarsely, barely containing himself.

ace comes close again, sitting on the bed, grasping for sabo’s hand. he nods, several times, like he’s working himself up. “my name is ace portgas,” he says slowly, voice breaking.

sabo’s world shatters.

ace is out getting food when sabo decides he’s had enough of this small room. he pulls the iv out and presses down on his bandaged wrist until the bleeding has stopped. then he swings both legs over the edge of the bed, back turned from the window. he plucks the handful of electrodes from his skin and gathers himself in the new quiet of the room. he could do this. he could stand-

the door bursts open right as sabo as settled his hands on the mattress to hoist himself up. he looks up, alarmed, as several people rush in and stop short.

“i- uh.” he blanks, caught off guard. “i just . . want to walk around. if that’s okay.” he mumbles the last part, right as he spies ace just inside the door, expression fading to something unreadable.

“oh, sabo,” one of the staff says, voice hushed. they move forward to gather the disconnected electrodes from the ground. “you should ask about things like that. it should be fine . . ?” they turn to the others for confirmation.

another one steps up, nodding. “let me go get the doctor.”

they all slowly disperse until only ace is left, wandering in. ace portgas.

“they’ll get worried if you’re unhooked from the machines,” he says, bending down in front of sabo. sabo searches his face, but he can’t find any resemblance to his own. they weren’t family. they weren’t blood, which meant . .

he tsks, turning his head away. “i wasn’t going to leave,” he mutters. “not like i have anywhere to go.”

ace’s eyes widen, and then relax, as he does his best to put on a brave face. “you will,” he promises. “i’m working on it.”

sabo isn’t sure what he means, but the doctor comes in before he can question.

“portgas!” he says, and the greeting is a sting in the already-burning cut. “heard you wanted to walk around. that should be fine, you’ll just have to take your iv with you. hm? ah, let me hook it back up.”

he’s very patient, not mentioning the earlier incident, or growing disgruntled at the fact his iv was leaking. sabo sits there silently as he places the needle back under his skin, nods in satisfaction, and leans back.

“don’t push yourself. you can use the iv stand as balance, but if you need a wheelchair, i’ll issue that, too.” his lips quirk up. “walking around will be good for you, though. it’s a little early, but i suppose you’ve been here long enough.” he stands back up. “i’ll get someone to bring in slippers. just sit tight until then.” he winks, and sabo nods, trying not to feel guilty.

the slippers are the same mint green as the rest of his hospital garb. sabo feels a stab of disappointment, but he’s not sure what color he wishes they were instead. they slide on easily enough, and after wheeling the iv stand around -and under surveillance- he grabs onto it to slowly come to a stand.

his legs shake. it’s not too bad, the nurse tells him. he takes a step forward, and another, the iv stand rolling along with him. she tells him he’s good enough to go, and sabo nods, concentrating, gaze trained on his feet.

“ace can take you around, make sure you’re doing okay,” she says, and sabo’s stomach drops. he suddenly doesn’t feel like going, but he forces himself to move anyway.

“fine,” he grunts, already at the door.

“if he can’t make it back, please don’t try to carry him,” the nurse tells ace quietly. “we don’t want to upset your ribs, and we have plenty of wheelchairs.”

ace frowns. “but that’s more romantic!”

“it’s not if you both end up collapsed,” she chides, and ace relents.

sabo’s not very far away from the room when ace catches up, hovering on his free side. “anywhere specific you wanna go?”

“take me to the vending machine you like so much,” is sabo’s reply.

ace looks taken aback. “well i’m not in love with it or anything.”

no, just me, he thinks, then slams down on that thought and stuffs it somewhere he doesn’t have to think about it.

it’s at the end of the hall, illuminated in a dark corner. sabo looks at the rows, but nothing catches his eye.

“you want anything?” ace asks, leaning back against the wall.

sabo shrugs. “i don’t know what i would like.”

ace grins, fishing a dollar bill from his pocket. “i gotcha,” he says, head thrown over his shoulder as he steps forward to insert the money into the machine. he presses a couple buttons and sabo watches as a red package falls.

ace pops it out and rips it open, gesturing for sabo to follow. they move until they’re sat on a bench, a large window covering most of the wall next to it. sabo sighs in relief as he releases his hands from their deathgrip on the cold steel. he would never admit it, but he was getting tired.

when he turns to glance at ace, smiling cheekily, he finds he doesn’t need to, which irritates him. ace resists laughing and nudges his shoulder, getting him to hold his hand out. he pours some of the candy into his palm, and sabo frowns down at it as the fruity smell assaults his nose.

“i probably can’t have this.”

“no one has to know,” ace says, shrugging. he pours some straight from the bag down into his mouth, and sabo shrugs, copying him, while he presses a purple one to his lips.

his eyes pop. it was startlingly good. he immediately throws another in, this time green. “these are good,” he voices, and ace laughs from beside him.

“too bad they don’t have the blue skittles.” ace grins when sabo stares up at him, questioning. “they’d match your eyes.”

sabo strangely feels like he’s heard something similar. he can’t place the conversation, though, and his interest dies. “these are good enough,” he insists, lifting his hand to pour them all into his mouth. he chews slowly, the fruit combination strange but not unpleasant. “thanks,” he mumbles, almost too low to hear, when he’s done.

unfortunately, ace’s hearing is extremely good, almost unreasonably so. “no problem,” he says, shoulders relaxing.

they stay there until the sun starts sinking. ace has to ward sabo off from climbing the stairs to a new floor, convincing him to leave that for another day. they make it back to the room with little issue, though sabo is loath to admit he’s a little out of breath.

“your blood pressure is a little high,” one of the nurses notes later on that night. “must’ve been a good walk.”

sabo bites down on his tongue, just hard enough to keep from saying anything. his mind wanders back to the candy he’d indulged in, and he resists rolling his eyes. he knew there would be consequences.

he strangely finds himself not caring as much as he should.

sabo’s attention, much to ace’s despair, is stolen by another book. he’d gotten this one from ace himself. reading it is good -it puts him at ease. even better now that he can read it over time, no longer forced to finish it in one sitting. it had been a shocking discovery, but a good one, when the nurse had wandered in to see sabo starting from where he’d placed the bookmark. he was beginning to retain things better, the doctor said. it was a sign of progress.

it was a welcome one.

ace is fiddling with his phone by the window. he’d started to come in with it more lately, no longer worried about having the blond’s sole attention. sabo could admit he was growing more comfortable in ace’s presence, though it had more to do with the way ace was acting around him, and less so with what he was supposed to be with sabo in the past.

ace’s phone rings and sabo glances up. ace frowns down at it, meets his eyes briefly, and then looks to the door. he sighs after a moment, accepting the call, and moves over to the far corner of the room, not quite leaving, but close. he talks low, and sabo turns his attention back to his book instead of struggling to overhear.

“i don’t sell anymore,” ace says, a little louder, and sabo blinks, finding he hadn’t processed any of what he’d read. he gives up, staring blankly at the pages, and drops the book entirely when ace ends the call.

“what was that about?”

ace has the decency to look contrite, slumping over as he takes a seat in the chair. he waves sabo off, though, not wanting to divulge this -especially with their location.

“you’ll remember eventually,” he mutters.

sabo crosses his arms. “i’d like to remember now.”

ace turns to look up at him, expression pleading. “sabo, you really don’t need to know right now,” he insists. “i’ll tell you some other time, okay?”

sabo huffs. he picks his book back up, and he doesn’t speak to ace for the rest of the night.

ace doesn’t come in one morning.

sabo waits, then chides himself for thinking like that and spends the morning reading.

“no ace yet?” his nurse questions, as she takes his vitals. he shakes his head.

it’s not until sunlight is flooding into his room that sabo realizes he was still expecting the raven to waltz in. he was on the edge of his seat, literally, and he finds himself unable to concentrate on anything the longer he’s left alone.

he goes on a walk instead, pacing one side of the hall several times. he pauses near the middle as he catches wind of a conversation, pressing himself into the shadow of a doorway.

“it’s a shame, really. he’s getting better, it’s obvious to see.”

“i know, right? even though he’s been here a while, it’s not like he’s fully recovered. such a shame they won’t cover the bills anymore.”

“gotta had some for other patients, i guess. the year’s not over yet. and accidents happen all the time in the snow.”

“did you hear what was happening next?”

“i think social services will pick it up, though i’m not sure. it’s complicated, since he’s not alone.”

“it’s not like he has a place to go, either. those two are so young. they’re not even twenty!”

“it really is awful. i just hope something changes for the better. they don’t deserve to end up back on the streets.”

sabo moves further down the hall, no longer willing to listen. he had a pretty good idea of who they were talking about. it stung, but he got it. he’d gathered enough hints over time, he just hadn’t wanted to form that particular conclusion.

he stands in front of the tall window at the end of the hall until his legs ache. then he trudges back to his room, not stopping for anything, even when one of the nurses calls out to him.

“oh, sabo, there you are! you have a visitor.”

he braces himself before entering the room. no doubt it was the social worker coming to take over his case.

he’s only pleasantly surprised to find ace waiting for him. just ace.

“you came,” he says, slightly elated.

ace turns on his rolling chair, smiling wide. “sabo! i was wondering where you were.”

“where i was?” sabo scoffs, though it’s mostly in jest. ace’s attitude is infectious, he finds, moving closer.

ace laughs. “right, sorry. i had some things to take care of today. but you’ll never believe it!” sabo’s close enough now that ace rolling to meet him catches him off-guard, which makes it easier to get knocked off his feet, landing on ace’s legs instead. he grips the pole of the iv stand tight.

his breath is caught as ace wraps his arms around his middle, pulling him closer. “the most amazing thing happened today,” he insists, either unaware of sabo’s growing flustered state or choosing to ignore it. “and i got us a place to stay after you get out!”

the words ground sabo, more than anything. he calms down enough to process it, but instead of being overjoyed, he grows somber. “so it’s true. w-” he bites his lip, unable to continue to speak, and switches words. “i was homeless.” he frowns. “am homeless.”

ace’s arms tense, then loosen, around him. he breathes soft, tickling sabo’s neck. “not exactly,” he murmurs.

“tell me,” sabo pleas.

and he does.

he tells sabo how they spent nights with friends, and then at shelters, when they moved. how ace picked up money here and there, and sabo found odd jobs he could get without a permanent address. how they moved around, until their car broke down here and they’d abandoned it. how things had been tough, but after a bit, they always managed to have a little cash to spare. how they had a place, a really small one, until they got caught up in the accident. and then after that, there hadn’t been anywhere to go back to.

“until now,” ace finishes, pulling sabo closer. “if you want to,” he adds, and this close sabo can detect the waver.

“i have to get better first.”

“i know that. i meant, like . . after.” ace finishes in a mumble. sabo snorts, shoulders shaking from laughter, and he releases his hand from the pole to grab at ace.

“yeah. i would like that,” he admits.

ace looks up, stars in his eyes. “really?”

“you didn’t think i’d say yes?”

“i was worried you wouldn’t,” ace confesses. “i mean, you still don’t . . . remember everything. anything,” he amends.

sabo thinks on that for a long time before answering. “i missed you, today,” he starts. “i tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, but it did. you’re right: i don’t remember anything. but i can tell i meant a lot to you. and, uh.” he ducks his head. “you mean a lot to me, now. and not because i knew you before. it’s because . . . well. because of all the things you’ve done for me, since i woke up.”

ace’s lips are clamped, his eyes glassy. it takes him a minute to regain the composure to speak. “even if you don’t remember-” he looks away, unable to hold sabo’s gaze, but he finds it again, before finishing. “it’ll be okay. promise.”

sabo blinks, finding he knew exactly how much that took ace to admit. he starts nodding his head, but finds he doesn’t like the mood, anymore. he smirks down at ace instead. “you sure? what if i end up-”

“nah.” ace shakes his head, laughing again. “you’re stuck with me, now.”

sabo finds, just a little bit unsurprisingly, that he’s okay with that.

“ace?”

sabo covers his mouth as he turns to see the nurse in the doorway. ace looks up with an easy grin, laughter dying down. “yeah?”

“the doctor is ready for you, if you’d like your checkup now.”

ace nods. “that would be great. just give me a minute and i’ll be right out.”

the nurse hums in response, sliding the door shut.

ace comes to a stand in a hurry, snaking a hand under sabo’s blanket to leave the half-empty skittles bag hidden there, top twisted shut. sabo snorts, dropping the hand from his mouth, and finally swallows the last of the blue ones.

“i’ll come back when i’m done!” ace promises, moving to the door. sabo rolls his eyes.

“visitor hours will be over by then.”

“it’ll be quick! or i’ll sneak back in.” he winks. “but you didn’t hear the last part.”

“go,” sabo hums. ace waves on his way out, and sabo rolls his eyes again, but ends up doing the same.

he takes the skittles bag out and begins to unwrap the top, then decides against it and stuffs it under his pillows, instead. the sun is pretty low in the sky, now.

he hadn’t asked ace, he realizes. what the checkup was about. he could garner the basics, but it would be nice to know more.

he puts a hand to his chest, where he can feel the bandages through his shirt. they’d let him see it, the other day, while they were changing it out. even after all this time, it was still mottled with bruises, all in varying shades of colors. some had recurred, from what he’d gathered, but most of them were well on their way to healing.

he wonders if his injury is reflected on ace, or if it would be worse.

before he can vow to ask, he ends up falling asleep. he wakes up and the sun isn’t out, anymore. the light is dim, but it’s artificial. the lamp in the corner, he realizes.

there’s a hand carding through his hair. sabo makes a noise, turns his face up, and it stops.

“hey,” ace says, softly. “i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“you’re back,” sabo murmurs.

“i told you i would be.”

“you did.” sabo blinks, trying to shake off sleep as he works to sit up, eventually settling on his elbows. “how did it go?”

“pretty good.” ace waves him off. “no issues.”

“what is it?”

ace wants to clam up, but he feigns ignorance instead, knowing sabo would catch it. “what’s what?”

sabo sits up further. “your injury. you said it was better than mine, but . .”

“oh. uh.” ace turns away, tilts his head back. “are you sure-”

“i’m sure,” sabo says, sat up all the way, now. he crosses his legs, leans closer. “if i can’t know about mine . . i’d like to know about yours.”

“yeah,” ace breathes. “okay.”

he shrugs his coat off, then tugs his shirt up, off, and over his shoulders. he no longer has the wrap on, so the damage is laid clear before sabo’s eyes. ace moves a hand over everything, explaining.

“i was stabbed in the lung.” he shrugs off sabo’s incredulous expression, pointing to a thick scar. “it wasn’t serious or anything. sounds a whole lot worse than it was. most of the damage came from a few ribs i cracked -that certainly made breathing a bitch. the rest is just bruising, though it’s mostly lower on my ribcage.”

sabo’s lips downturn. “how were you literally stabbed and i had it worse?”

ace reaches up to tap the side of his own head. sabo blinks.

“oh.”

“really, sab, i’m fine. i’m just glad you’re fine. i’m glad you’re alive.” he shrugs, working his shirt back on. “at least those guys aren’t.”

“they’re dead?” sabo utters, expression open.

“yeah. some gang managed to break in, wanted revenge for something, i didn’t catch it all. anyway, we obviously weren’t with them, so we were left alone.” ace huffs out a hollow laugh. “though, that also meant they didn’t call for medical help. had to do that myself.” he drapes the coat over his back and tugs his arms through the sleeves. “anyway, it’s all over now. you don’t have to worry about any of it.”

sabo wonders, not for the first time, how ace manages to imply so much without actually revealing anything. he’s ripped from that thought as ace stands back up, eyeing the height of the moon through the window before moving to close the blinds.

“gotta go,” he says, waving to the door. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“yeah.” sabo leans back, only now aware of how tired he is. “see you.”

a man comes in with ace one day. he introduces himself, but sabo doesn’t bother to commit the name to memory. he’s a social worker, says he’s helping ace find a job. a real job, he specifies, and sabo isn’t sure if there’s an implication he’s supposed to get. ace looks disgruntled by the jab, but he doesn’t argue it.

“well, sabo, it appears you’ve entered a peculiar period in your recovery.” he folds his hands in his lap. “in short, the hospital is no longer willing to pay your expenses. they’ve passed the bill over to us.” he gestures to himself only as he says this, but sabo is still nervous. until his next words, that is. “you don’t need to worry about paying anything back. we’ll take it from here until you’ve recovered. all i ask is that you give your very best effort to the things i tell you to try. that sound good?”

“yeah. sounds good.” sabo hesitates for a moment, then adds on “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” he smiles. “there’s no need to thank me, though. this is my job.”

sabo shrugs. “still.”

“well, i appreciate the sentiment. ace has told me about your amnesia. the surgery you underwent was a tricky one, it seems. according to the staff, you seem to have almost healed up, physically. you haven’t appeared to regress any, on that account. and your anterograde amnesia is pretty much nonexistent. if you’re willing to progress, there are some options for you.”

sabo isn’t sure how to reply. he must sense that, because he offers something else.

“on that note, have you thought about undergoing any exercises to help recall your memory?”

“i guess i hadn’t thought that was an option.”

“it most certainly is on the table, if you would like to try it,” he offers.

sabo doesn’t even have to think about it. “that sounds great.”

“glad to hear it.”

sabo gets the bandages around both arms removed early one week. it’s weird at first, having the skin so exposed to the air. the scars aren’t pretty, either, despite how well the tissue had healed in light of his constant picking at them. he grows self-conscious about it before too long, and takes to draping the loose blanket over his shoulders whenever he’s in the room, pulling it down so it hung over both arms and left his hands free to do tasks.

the first day ace writes it off, but the second he chalks it up to temperature and shrugs off his jacket to throw it around sabo’s shoulders instead, pulling the blanket down to his lap.

sabo blinks a few times, startled into silence by the gesture. it’s not until ace moves back to his chair that he reaches up to pull the jacket closer, basking in the comfort it offered.

“thank you,” he says, pulling his arms through the soft sleeves. the cuffs came down to his fingers, but they were stretchy, so he didn’t mind.

ace shrugs, glancing out the window. “it’s getting colder, now that the new year has passed,” he notes. “snowing more, too. if you get cold, you should tell someone. they’ll do something about it.”

“oh.” sabo bites down on his lip to keep from huffing out a laugh. “yeah, sure. i’ll remember that.” he tugs the cuffs further over his hands, then fusses with the blanket thrown over his legs. even if ace did misunderstand, the intention was nice.

he takes the jacket back before he leaves, ushered out by the staff after visitor hours had ended for the night. sabo wraps himself in the blanket and pulls the sheets over his legs. his fingers dig into his arms, press against the raised scar tissue.

ace comes back early the next morning and throws his jacket around sabo before doing anything else. he leans close to adjust it, and for once, sabo sits calmly and lets him do it. it’s not until he’s pulling on sabo’s arm, skin pressed into the space around his scar, that sabo reacts. it’s entirely unintentional, but his heart stutters and his chest stops moving and ace notices, of course he does, pausing to loosen his grip.

and then, as if it clicks, he slides his hand around until his thumb traces the scar line. sabo sucks in a breath and ace puts one leg on the bed to slide closer, grabbing both of sabo’s arms, now.

“you’re okay,” he murmurs, face close but eyes on sabo’s injuries. sabo lifts his own from where ace is smoothing his skin to gaze into clear grey. the nearness doesn’t escape him.

ace glances up, just an instant, just enough to catch sabo staring. he sucks in a deep breath, stills his hands to grip just a little harder, and leans forward to press his forehead to sabo’s. his eyes are trained on the blond’s mint gown. “you don’t like seeing them,” he voices.

“no,” sabo replies, after a moment. his pitch is unsteady.

“i’m sorry i-”

“it’s okay,” sabo tells him, barely above a whisper. “you helped. thank you.”

ace pulls back, and then he’s slowly pulling sabo’s arms through the sleeves of his jacket, until the whole thing hung loose on his thin frame. ace bites on his lip, tries not to think about how much weight sabo had lost here, tries not to think about how he can’t solve the problem, because there’s no clear solution to scars, and no right answer to give to reminders of pain.

it’s snowing when ace has to leave. sabo tugs the jacket off and gives it back, unwilling to let him go without it on underneath his coat. he pulls the blanket around him and tries not to think about how nice it would be to hold onto it.

ace doesn’t know what to think. sabo hadn’t shied away from the rope burns on his ankles, or the thick cuts on his hands, or the gash on his cheek from the last bandaid to have come off. he’d seen the bruising on his chest without giving rise to panic, and made peace with the welt above his collarbone. so what is it about this one that had him so worked up?

ace stops short as the elevator dings and doesn’t move to exit when the doors open. was it that he was associating subconscious feelings with the scars? maybe he couldn’t recall the event, but were the emotions from that day slowly starting to come back?

the doors close and ace jerks a hand out to catch them, digging his phone out as he passes through.

“here!”

sabo’s face scrunches as he inspects the simple package thrust at him. his forehead creases, and it’s visible, for once. it no longer hurts, either, which is why his headwrap was finally removed.

“okay,” he mutters, letting the package fall into his hands. he flexes his fingers to push the jacket cuffs to his wrists, then pushes the box open. inside is a mass of dark blue fabric.

sabo blinks, the creases leaving his face, and looks up at ace. “what’s this for?” he reaches in to bury his fingers into the plush knit, pulling it out and unfurling it as ace replies.

“well, your head is better. at least, the front part is, so i thought we could celebrate.” ace chews on his lip as sabo lifts the scarf. “here, let me.” he climbs onto the edge of the bed and takes the scarf from sabo’s hands, not sure why he’s nervous but feeling this incredible need to do the task himself. he loops the scarf and moves it over sabo’s head, careful to avoid the back of his skull as he pulls it down, loops it again, and ties it at the back. he’d been half right: the front part of sabo’s skull, where his brain had impacted, was completely healed. but he’d suffered a major injury on the back, and it was still sensitive there, from what he’d gathered. ace is very careful as he ties the scarf off, then sinks back on his knees, stomach settling when he takes the view in.

sabo is looking down at the scarf, one hand reached up to rub the knit between his fingerpads. “that was quick notice,” he mutters.

“i told you i would bring you something blue before you left the hospital.”

“i’m not leaving toda-” sabo pauses, mouth open. “you did?”

“you probably don’t remember,” ace offers with a sigh.

sabo’s lips tremble. “i’m so-”

“no, please don’t!” ace insists. “it was- i mean, i told you while you still had short-term memory. it was my fault.” he shrugs. “it was more like a vow to myself, if anything.”

“okay,” sabo says, moving over the syllables slowly. “it’s nice.” he drops his hand. “thank you.”

“is the color okay? i tried to get one dark enough-”

“it’s fine,” sabo interrupts, eyes lidding. “seriously. thank you.”

ace opens his mouth again, but no words come out as he walks himself through the facts. sabo waits patiently, setting the empty box aside. he leans back against the pillows, tugging the knot to the side so that it didn’t rest right on his neck. ace works through everything and comes to a slow realization.

“your favorite color was navy,” he says. “before . .” he doesn’t finish. “it’s not anymore.”

sabo turns his eyes away, down to his lap, where he’s unconsciously brushing a thumb over the jacket cuff. he moves away from the dark red to the bright, saturated ruddy of ace’s coat. “no, it’s not.”

ace really doesn’t know how to feel, and sabo interrupts his inner turmoil with a question before he can get sucked too far into it.

“is that okay?” he does his best to smile when ace’s eyes turn on him. “if i change . . will that be okay?”

ace snaps himself out of it the instant he realizes how fragile sabo’s expression has become. he doesn’t know what compels him to do it, but he’s suddenly leaning close to sabo, both hands gentle on the sides of his face. sabo’s eyes are wide, and then ace is kissing him.

he makes a noise and ace jerks back, hands falling away. “sorry!” he apologizes. “i- sorry, god, i’m sorry, i don’t know what-”

“it’s okay.” sabo’s voice is quiet. ace drops his arms from when he’d been scrubbing his face, hair now a mess. sabo isn’t looking at him. “it’s okay, really,” he says again, but the tension hasn’t left his shoulders, and ace needs a distraction before he screws up more.

he raises his fingers to form a frame, sabo’s head in the middle. “you still look the best in blue,” he says, willing to ignore the waver in his voice. “way better than the green they stuck you in.”

sabo snorts, and slowly, the earlier mood begins to unravel. he forces himself to relax. “i’ll take your word for it.”

“do. it’s fact.”

“because everything you say is always true.”

ace sobers at this. “it is.” he waits until sabo is focused on him. “with you. ever since you woke up.”

sabo has to swallow before he can answer. there’s still a bob in his throat, just like there’s still a phantom feeling of chapped lips on his own. he manages to speak through them. “i know. it’s why i decided to start trusting you.” he reaches forward and ace reads his intention, catches his hands in his own. “you’ve been here,” he almost breathes, voice very quiet. “even when i didn’t want you to be.” he pauses when his voice cracks, taking a moment to collect himself. “you never left, and you never lied, and you never let me forget you were supporting me.” he squeezes, and ace squeezes back. “and i’m sorry, that my memory went away. but i’m here, right here, and i care about you now. and i won’t let anything change that.” he smiles, his next inhale shaky. “and i know you won’t, either.”

ace can’t help when the tears run down his cheeks. he doesn’t move to stop them, only sniffling, and bringing their joined hands to his chest, and then bending forward again, gathering courage.

sabo moves his head off the pillows to meet him.

sabo’s assigned social worker interrupts ace’s excited rambling to politely ask him to leave the room. sabo’s smile falls when it becomes just the two of them. he’d never been able to read this one, though that might have more to do with him being the first outsider sabo had met. his social circle had been restricted to the hospital staff that attended to him, and ace. even if sabo had been proficient at reading people in the past, his limited interaction had taken some sort of toll.

“sorry, he didn’t do anything wrong,” his caseworker assures him, sensing the animosity. “he’s been very assertive, though, and i haven’t had the chance to ask your opinion.” he leans forward in his seat. “do you want to go with ace? there are other options, if you decide you’d be better off apart.”

sabo takes a minute to process this. he knows it’s only being asked out of concern, but his first intention is to take it the wrong way. he works to settle himself, and then figure out a rational response.

“i think,” he begins, “that. even if i can’t be sure ace isn’t fabricating the whole thing, it feels wrong to assume that, now. and it feels right to be with him. i only have his word to go off of, yes. but i can tell we’re meant to be together.” he shrugs. “i- i know that doesn’t sound very convincing, and maybe i’m not fully convinced myself, but i’ve been having these feelings, and the doctor said that even if the memory associated with it doesn’t return, the emotions that surface are still real.” sabo stops before he can ramble too much in that direction, looking back up. “i do want to go with him.”

“you’ve convinced me,” he hums. “even if you haven’t fully convinced yourself.” he leans back. “one more question.”

“okay?”

“are you sure you still want to remember?”

again, sabo takes some time to organize his thoughts. he comes to a conclusion that is startlingly succinct. “whatever happened before, i promised i wouldn’t stop caring about him. i’m not willing to hold myself back on that regard.”

his caseworker smiles. “works for me. how about we start psychotherapy monday?”

part 2 | notes

#writing #ywr/iwf #op #saboace #amnesia au but Not Like That

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jemmydoolz · 4 years

Text

Edgar Has Always Been Kind of a Bitch

hi okay so it's a little after midnight but I'm posting a fic rn bc it's the first fic I've written in like,, a yr and a half and also I'm rlly excited abt it??

anyway battle buddies/fahc jeremwood angst based on ramblings in a gc

(warning for minor assault implications at the beginning, and brief mentions of a suicide attempt at the end)!!!

Fiona and Gavin decide that what Jeremy needs is a night of bevs, and, to put it simply, get wasted, so the crew settles on going to a club that Friday. Jeremy only has one or two drinks, but boy does he get fucked up.

Ryan’s sitting and talking with Geoff and Jack in a booth, sipping a diet coke. He looks over Jack’s shoulder to see Jeremy standing at the bar with a much taller, more intimidating man looming over him. The guy reaches out toward Jeremy, who leans away from the touch. Jeremy nervously laughs and his eyes frantically dart around for someone, anyone who might be able to help him.

“Hello? Earth to Ryan?” Jack waves her hand in front of Ryan’s face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. sorry. Hey, um, I’m gonna go home, I’m just not really feeling great,” Ryan murmurs as he slides out of the booth, already heading toward Jeremy.

“Um, alright, I guess? Drive safe,” Jack calls after him.

Ryan speeds up when he sees the man grab Jeremy’s arm. Jeremy’s face flipped through a thousand emotions at once when he saw Ryan approaching, but eventually landed on confused but grateful. He gave Jeremy a look that said just go with what I’m about to say.

“Hey, babe,” Ryan says. The man immediately drops his grip on Jeremy’s arm. Jeremy does his best not to choke on his own spit when he hears the word babe come out of Ryan’s mouth. He hadn’t heard it in so long, and he didn’t think it would still hurt so much.

“Oh, hey!” Jeremy turns to Ryan and reaches up to peck him on the lips. “Where’d Edgar go? It’s his birthday, I figured he would wanna hang out with his friends!”

Fuck. Mentioning something about their friend ‘Edgar’ was always code for I don’t feel good about this, let’s leave. Edgar’s birthday meant I’m having a panic attack, I need your help. Ryan wanted to punch the guy that was practically feeling Jeremy up. No—he wanted to fucking kill that bastard. He and Jeremy may have had a severe falling out, they may have suffered years of heartache and longing, but he still felt responsible to make sure Jeremy was safe.

“He said he kinda wanted to go home. He went to the bathroom while I found you. You, uh, just about ready?” Ryan’s eyes flitted between Jeremy and the other man, who cleared his throat and mumbled something about needing to go find his friends before walking off.

Jeremy and Ryan both sigh in relief once he’s gone.

“Wanna head outside for some fresh air for a minute?” Ryan asks, getting a meek, obviously shaken-up nod in return.

Jeremy says something that Ryan can’t quite hear over the music as they walk outside.

“Hm?”

“Oh, nothing. It was dumb.” Jeremy shakes his head. Ryan has had enough experience to know that it was better to just leave it alone. They both wordlessly come to a stop and lean against the wall of the building a few yards from the door. Almost as if they had been working as partners for years. They spend a few minutes saying nothing, watching people on the street, looking at the stars in the sky. Ryan can’t help but study the intricacies of Jeremy, realizing that so many things have changed, but somehow almost nothing about him is different. Jeremy’s hair is just a tad bit more grown out than it ever was at the agency (also, it’s bright purple and orange, which is not exactly the most appealing color combination, but that’s a topic for another day), but he still runs his hands through it when he’s lost in thought. It’s curlier than it used to be, but maybe that’s just because it’s longer. He still clenches his jaw so hard it seems like he’s going to break his teeth when he’s scared. He still wears a tank top under his shirt, no matter how hot it is outside. His eyes still crinkle at the corners when he lets out a bark of laughter that Ryan still swears up and down sounds exactly like a squeaky toy. He’s changed, though. Ryan can see in his eyes that he’s become aware of reality. He knows the responsibility he carries, the heavy consequences that come with his actions, that death is around the corner at every moment.

“D’you- d’you want me to take you home?” Ryan says barely above a whisper, but loud enough for Jeremy to hear. “You can go back inside if you want, but I know you always used to want to go home and be alone after Edgar shows up.” Jeremy lets out the tiniest breathy chuckle.

“Edgar has always been kind of a bitch, hasn’t he?” Jeremy says as he looks away from the sky to meet Ryan’s gaze, and his heart falls apart all over again for the thousandth time. That fond look of reminiscence and joy was one Ryan donned frequently at the agency. “I- Yeah. yeah. I’d really appreciate a ride home. I’m just a little too drunk to drive, I think.”

“Alright. I parked just down the street. Penthouse or your apartment?” Ryan hadn’t even noticed that Jeremy did seem somewhat tipsy; his Boston accent slipping in occasionally and his words slurring the tiniest bit.

“Um, apartment,” Jeremy says. “D’you rem-”

“Yes, I remember where your apartment is, Jeremy.”

It’s only a few minutes into the drive to the other side of town when Jeremy pipes up. “I honestly didn’t really expect you to help me. I didn’t expect you to remember Edgar, either. I dunno why I said it, I guess just vaguely hoping you would even though it’s been, what, three years?” he pauses for a moment and just takes in Ryan's profile. “I always hope you remember things from then. I know it went to shit, but we still had so much fun. We made so many memories and did so much dumb shit there. But I’m glad that stupid fuckin’ place collapsed. All of it was complete bullshit. I just wish it all fell apart before we did.”

Ryan doesn’t know how to respond. So he doesn’t.

“All those meetings I had to stay late for? Fuckin’ useless. They served no purpose, and I don't know why I was forced to go to them. I feel like the only reason I had to go to those meetings was because someone was hiding something from me. It was obvious that so many things were kept from us.” Jeremy stops for a second to try to will away the lump rising in his throat. “I thought you were cheating on me. For the longest time. I still don’t know whether you actually were. You were always out on ‘special missions’ and shit.”

The moment Ryan hears Jeremy let out a shaky breath his heart breaks.

“Was it me? Was I not good enough? I promise I tried my hardest to be what you needed. I’m sorry if I wasn’t. All I wanted was the best for you, Ryan. Even now, I just want you to be happy. If you're happier with someone else, then that’s what I want. I don’t blame you, though. I don’t deserve someone like you. You deserve so much better than me. I would do anything for you, Rye. We were together for so long. We did everything together! I thought I was gonna marry you. I was saving up money to get a ring. I guess I was too stupid to see that you didn’t want me anymore.”

Ryan looks over to see the tears staining Jeremy’s cheeks reflecting the soft orange glow of the streetlamps. Is this really what Jeremy thinks?

“I was so in love with you, Ryan Haywood. I’m- I’m still in love with you. I love you so goddamn much it hurts sometimes. Every time I see you hurt, upset, angry, anything other than healthy and happy my heart aches. I’m sorry I wasn't enough. I promise I tried. Fuck, I tried so hard.”

With every sob Jeremy lets out, Ryan's heart breaks just a little bit more. The short distance left until Ryan pulls up to Jeremy’s apartment building is spent wordlessly. Jeremy’s clambering out of the car and reaching to grab the door when Ryan speaks.

“Hey, Jer, do you want me to walk you up? I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve already been a pain in your ass tonight, I don't need to waste even more of your time. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.” Jeremy sniffles and wipes his cheeks, giving a half-hearted smile before shutting the door and walking away.

Ryan sits there for a second, unable to process fully what he just heard. He starts driving without even knowing where he was going, and he’s so lost in his thoughts that suddenly he’s sitting in his car in front of the boardwalk along the beach and crying. He can’t believe anything he was just told—there is no way in hell that the brilliant, witty, talented Jeremy Dooley ever doubts his worth. It’s jarring to think that part of it was because of Ryan. He was going on extra missions because the agency was growing more and more demanding. For months they tormented Ryan with the threat of kicking out Jeremy. They said they’d do other things to him that Ryan doesn’t want to remember. Why did Jeremy never bring it up? Why did he just accept that Ryan had ‘moved on?’ Their lives were so intertwined with one another that Ryan never felt truly whole again. The only reason Ryan went with the break up was that he saw how distant and cold Jeremy had gotten. Ryan had assumed that, for whatever reason, Jeremy had changed his mind. He hated it, he was devastated, but he didn't know how to fix it.

Ryan decides he doesn’t want to go back to the penthouse tonight. He pulls up to the nearest crew safehouse, and suddenly things click.

Jeremy had always struggled with bad self-image and depression. He had gone to Ryan for comfort, which he was always more than willing to give. Jeremy was doing better. At least he told Ryan he was.

Jack had mentioned a while ago that when Jeremy first joined the crew, she had found him after a suicide attempt and barely left his side until he recovered. The only reason for it Jack had told Ryan about was ‘emotional trauma from a past relationship, that he didn’t really want to talk about.’

Ryan did that to him.

Ryan made the love of his life want to die.

The pieces left of his heart fall into more shards than there are grains of sand in this world.

He collapses onto the couch inside, too exhausted to even get to the bed. He knows he’s not going to be able to sleep, though.

To: Geoff

Dropped Jeremy off at his place, he was pretty drunk though so check on him please

To: Geoff

I’m staying at kung fu safehouse for the night

#my fic #holy fuck #i did that !!!#thats a whole ass 1874 words babeyyy!!!!!#fahc #fahc ryan #fahc jeremy #fahc au #angst #battle buddies #fake ah ryan #fake ah jeremy #fake ah crew #fake ah au #minor suicide mention #suicide mention tw #ragehappy

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thatwasthenightthingschanged · 4 years

Text

here’s the next part of what I like to call “The Taylor Swift song analysis series”! In which I, a German girl majoring in English, attempt to analyse or interpret Taylor’s songs to shed more light on a) her incredible song writing skills and b) songs that are generally very underrated and deserve more attention. (here’s the link to all my song analysis)

Today’s song is All Too Well since I’m still going through the RED tracklist chronologically. This is a fandom fav and I think most of the lyrics are pretty straight-forward but I’m still excited to talk abt this song! (also, as always, a short psa that this interpretation is extremely subjective meaning that’s just how I see the song! also that I’m no native speaker so I probably will not be able to get any cultural references in any of Taylor’s songs - but feel free to add them in a reblog :) )

“I walked through the door with you, the air was cold, but something ‘bout it felt like home somehow” The song begins with a harsh contrast: It was winter when she entered this house/apartment but she still felt at home (which is often associated with a warm and fuzzy feeling) there, probably because she was with the person she loved.

“and I left my scarf there, at your sister’s house, and you still got it in your drawer even now” He clearly still isn’t over the relationship because he cannot get rid of this personal item of hers.

“oh your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze, we’re singing in the car getting lost upstate. Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place and I can picture it after all these days” A quite literal snapshot of her memory which she put into the song. And, since she can still vividly recall this memory, it shows that she isn’t over the relationship either. (also, part of me wonders what his disposition was? like does she mean his disposition was being sweet or that whatever said disposition was was something she loved?)

“and I know it’s long gone and that magic’s not here no more” logically, she knows it makes no sense that she’s still yearning for the past since even if they got back together, it wouldn’t be the same because so many things have happened between them that they no longer have genuine feelings for each other. (perhaps it’s more of a nostalgic longing for what they once were, rather than accepting the reality of what they are now)

“and I might be okay, but I’m not fine at all” She is doing alright since they have split but she’s still in the midst of heartbreak and she is, again, still not over him.

“‘cause there we are again on that little town street. You almost ran the red ‘cause you were looking over at me. Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well” another snapshot of her memory that she remembers vividly. They were driving in his car with the windows down and he was so enchanted by her that he forgot all of his surroundings. Now that they’re over, she misses these exact moments, these moments of feeling special and loved next to him.

“photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red. You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed and your mother’s telling stories about you on the tee-ball team” We’re back to another memory of the relationship. Also, since he was actually embarrassed that his mom showed pictures of him as a kid, she assumed (or maybe it was the truth) that he cared about her since he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her.

“you taught me about your past, thinking your future was me” He thought they would last forever. (however, I would argue that perhaps only Taylor thought that he thought it would last forever, since he clearly did not care about the relationship as much as she did - or at least I think he didn’t oops)

“and I know it’s long gone and there was nothing else I could do” Again, she knows the relationship has been over for a while and also, she knows that she couldn’t have prevented their fallout.

“and I forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to” The relationship is in fact so far in the past that she’s now at the stage where she romanticizes it and forgets all the bad stuff that happened between them that were the reason for them breaking up in the first place.

“‘cause there we are again in the middle of the night. We’re dancing ‘round the kitchen in the refrigerator light. Down the stairs, I was there, I remember it all too well” again, another memory of the two of them together that she recalls now that they are over. Note that so far she only recalls all the good moments of the relationship (see also the previous line).

“maybe we got lost in translation” she’s now thinking about why they broke up. Perhaps it was because they didn’t communicate clearly enough. (which would put the blame on both of them)

“maybe I asked for too much” Perhaps she wanted too much out of this relationship when she thought it would/could last forever. (which would put the blame on her)

“but maybe this thing was a masterpiece ‘til you tore it all up” However, she knows that the main reason for the break-up were his actions. They could’ve been (and have been) amazing until he decided to ruin the relationship. (putting the blame on him)

“running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well” She recalls the moments when she was terrified of losing him.

“hey, you call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest” He broke his promise that he only wants to be with her by cheating on her and she recalls the moment when he called her to admit it to her, because he “wants to be honest” after the break up (and probably clear his conscience). But to her, this act is just cruel, it breaks her into a million pieces.

“I’m a crumpled up piece of paper lying here ‘cause I remember it all too well.” And because she so vividly remembers every aspect of the relationship, she can’t move on and she still is deeply hurt.

“time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it” she is in the state of the time after the breakup where time seems to expand and she just goes on living her life without fully being alive. Whenever she notices the passing of time, it paralyzes her, makes her sad again because she realizes that the memory of him fades further and further into the past until most of it is gone.

“I‘d like to be my old self again but I’m still trying to find it” She has ost herself through the relationship and the heartbreak and she desperately wishes she could just erase this part of her history and go back to where she was before she met that guy. But since she’s “still trying to find it”, she realizes that no matter how much she wishes she could turn back time, she can’t. The only option is living with the forever-changed person she is now.

“after plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own, now you mail back my things and I walk home alone” She’s still clinging to things that remind her of him. Wearing plaid shirts for example, and having someone to walk home with. Meanwhile he has given her her things back, so perhaps he has already moved on for the most part (or at least he wants Taylor to think he has moved on)

“but you keep my old scarf from that very first week ‘cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me. You can’t get rid of it ‘cause you remember it all too well.” but since he still keeps her scarf, she knows that he is not over her either. He also remembers the good times of the relationship before he made his mistake (”innocence”) and cannot let them go. (also, side note: Taylor met his sister during the first week of their relationship? that’s quite early. perhaps she also took this as “oh he takes this as seriously as I do”).

“'cause there we are again when I loved you so, back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known. it was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well” And now she thinks about how he would think about their good times, how he would remember how absolutely in love Taylor was with him and how he would realize that he really messed up when he cheated on her because she was the best thing that ever happened to him, and he ruined it.

“wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all, down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all, it was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well” He remembers & recalls the exact same good moments of the relationship that she does.

#taylorsonganalysis

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phobiadeficient · 4 years

Note

A punishing B by making him wear a remote controlled vibrator? (Speeding bullet or spy/engie please! Also I love your work :) )

i want you guys to know that like the majority of the time when y'all go “this pairing or this one, shrug emoji” i literally just like. coin flip abt it. i don't even have an app i just google “coin flip” and just pick like Any option from the list. that's the brand of messy bitch disease that we have going on up in here. anyways here's your porn like a month late anon sorry

Spy didn’t even realize how hard he was clenching his fists until he heard the leather creak and realized his knuckles were aching.

To be honest, he’d half expected it to be more of an endurance thing. That it’d get turned on and he’d just be expected to ride through it until the Engineer was good and ready to end his silly little game and get on with it. But that didn’t seem to be the direction things were going in.

Because first of all, the Engineer was fiddling with the remote for the thing every few minutes, switching up rhythm and speed and force what seemed to be entirely at random.

And second of all, it had been—and he hadn’t even been checking his watch, wasn’t entirely sure, but it felt like hours, and had probably been at least forty minutes of this, and he wasn’t even looking at Spy all that much besides cursory glances every now and then before promptly returning to what he was working on—the sketch on a blueprint, it seemed, something that required an amount of focus.

He’d started this little game pretty cocky, because he was good at this sort of thing, at ignoring physical urges and keeping a cool head in situations that other people would be entirely distracted by. But some combination of all of this, of the sensation plus the presence of his lover plus the pressure of it being some kind of game, plus the fact that the aforementioned lover was ignoring him plus the idea crowding into frame that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t read the game correctly and something else was going on, well, it was pulling him apart.

He’d started out with good posture and nonchalance and a smirk that he damn well knew was charming and could send shivers through anyone he chose, composed and flirtatious and unaffected. But forty minutes in, his posture had crumpled, and he was sweating and overheated, his shirt clinging to his skin, his pants entirely uncomfortable, his knees trembling a little bit.

The only thing the Engineer had told him to do was get his clothes back in order and to keep his hands up above the table. And he’d glanced up exactly twice when Spy had moved them, once to adjust his tie and once to tug on his mask to make it sit a bit more comfortably. He knew he wouldn’t get away with sneaking them below the table to make himself more comfortable in any sense of the word.

He stared hard at the Engineer, and the Engineer didn’t even look at him.

He broke somewhere around minute forty-five.

“How much longer is this going to take?” he asked flatly.

He hummed. “Probably somethin’ like an hour or two, haven’t blocked out much besides the general shape,” he replied, tapping some part of the blueprint for emphasis.

Spy clenched his fists. “That isn’t what I meant,” he deadpanned.

The Engineer looked up at him, finally, and Spy felt all the more aware of what a mess he probably looked like. “Oh, right,” he said, as if he’d forgotten, even as he clicked a button and the rhythm shifted again, making a muscle in Spy’s jaw shift. “Well. Guess that depends on a couple of things.”

“Such as?” Spy asked, voice tight.

“You sayin’ you give up?”

He wasn’t entirely sure why the Engineer phrased it like that, only that doing so made him immediately shake his head, maybe a touch too quickly. The Engineer nodded, and returned to his work.

Five minutes passed before a Spy spoke again. “Dell, what exactly is the point of this game?” he managed through gritted teeth.

“Not sure what you mean, darlin’,” he hummed, drawing a line with precision and care using a ruler.

“I’m getting extremely frustrated,” Spy said outright.

“Mm-hmm,” Engie hummed.

“I would very much like to get to whatever happens next,” he said, even more outright, stressing his words.

His focus was swimming so much that somehow he hadn’t noticed the Engineer’s other hand drifting to take hold of the remote again, first and foremost feeling the vibrations cease altogether.

A breath of relief as for a few wonderful moments he thought that the Engineer was moving things along. But after a few seconds, a minute, two minutes, Spy felt confused.

The Engineer looked up at him, adjusted his goggles. “Want me to turn it back on?” he asked calmly, coolly.

The frustration flared back up in an instant. “I want for you to touch me,” Spy all but snapped.

“I know you do. But you don’t get that yet. So do you want me to turn it back on?” he asked, and underneath the calm in his tone and the softness of his voice was a hard edge that sent a shiver down Spy’s back, made him swallow hard.

He hesitated for only a few seconds before he nodded. His head fell as the toy turned back on, thrumming to life and setting his nerve endings aflame.

The short break made the sudden flood of pleasure all the more potent, made him have to fight not to make any kind of noise. And even then he exhaled shakily, eyes screwing shut hard, heartbeat thrumming.

A minute or so later he was already feeling that desperation creeping back into view, making him wish he could at least lower his hands to undo his belt to get a little more comfortable. But even just flexing and curling his hands to try and distract himself gained the Engineer’s attention, his head tilting just slightly for a moment towards him until the movement stopped.

“When will this game be over?” he finally snapped, working hard to keep his voice filled with annoyance and not pleading.

“That depends,” was the level, easygoing reply, and a click, and the rhythm of the toy shifted again, making Spy bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to stay quiet.

“On what?” Spy demanded.

“On whether you’re gonna behave,” Engie said, turning his head to look at Spy.

Alright, he knew this one. “And what exactly is it that you want me to do?” he asked, voice dropping to a purr, even if it was a little unsteady, a little breathless.

The Engineer hummed, started tidying up his workspace a little, putting pencils and rulers and erasers back where they belonged. Once it was reasonably tidied, he looked back over. “I want you to quit mouthin’ off so much to the team,” he said, and Spy blinked.

He laughed incredulously. “You can’t be serious,” he managed. “All of this over—“

“You’re bein’ a real menace,” the Engineer interrupted, cutting Spy off cold. “Usually it’s just a snide comment here and there, but lately you’ve really been hitting the team hard. Makin’ a damn fool out of everyone, belittling people—hell, I’d call it outright bullying. And what you’re gonna do now, after tonight, is stop that.”

“Or what?” Spy couldn’t help but challenge.

“I guess you’ll see,” he shrugged.

Spy huffed. “Am I supposed to be scared?” he teased.

The vibrator shut off.

He blinked. Shifted. Held eye contact even as his eyebrows furrowed.

There was a long pause before the Engineer spoke, and when he did, he was still casual, conversational even. “That was a bit rude, darlin’. Ought to apologize,” he prompted.

Spy sneered, even as he shifted, weighted his options. Ultimately, his head didn’t win out. “Fine, I’m sorry,” he said, flippant, only to become significantly less flippant as his apology was rewarded with the toy being switched back on.

Then the Engineer was standing up, rounding the table. Spy turned to meet him, but was flipped right back around again, wrists pinned to the tabletop with one hand, the Engineer’s broad chest pressing into his back and trapping him even further in place. “You sorry for makin’ fools of the team?” he asked.

Spy managed to gather his thoughts enough to consider his options. “...And what do I get if I apologize?” he prompted.

“You’ll see,” the Engineer said.

“And if I don’t?”

“You already know that one,” he said, meaningfully turning the remote around in his free hand.

Spy scowled. “Ugh. Oui, I’m sorry.”

The remote was placed on the tabletop—within his reach, although he’d never be able to grab it with his wrists pinned—and the Engineer’s hand trailed down his abdomen and to his pants, and made quick—if slightly rough—work of getting them open. He sighed in relief, extremely pleased with this turn of events, even if the Engineer didn’t touch him much beyond that. Just that much was a blessing.

“You sorry for acting like an ass to everyone?” the Enginner prompted.

“Oui,” Spy answered easily enough, not much meaning behind the words, more easily giving over into the pleasure once the pressure and immense discomfort of his pants was resolved.

His reward was the Engineer helping him pull his pants a little way down his legs, freeing him outright, and he gave a gaspy little noise at it, rocking forward slightly when he was able.

“And are you sorry for being so damn mean?” the Engineer asked next.

“I suppose,” Spy joked.

Silence, stillness. “I beg your pardon?” the Engineer asked, squeezing his wrists slightly, almost threateningly.

“If it moves along the game, then I suppose,” Spy teased, trying to glance over his shoulder.

The Engineer was quiet for a moment, then he was moving—except he was pulling Spy’s clothes back on, movements rough.

Spy was shaken from the euphoria, blinking, startled as he realized what was happening. “Oh, come on. Don’t you want to move on from this ridiculous game?” he tried, a little frustrated.

The Engineer moved the remote out of reach and released Spy’s wrists long enough to do his pants back up, absolutely no care or gentleness in the motion.

“Ow, ow! Dell!” he yelped, indignant. “Fine, fine! I’m sorry!”

Stillness again. He steadied himself with a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I apologize,” he repeated, tone uneven, well shaken.

“Good,” the Engineer said quietly, and moved to undress him again. Spy only got to relax for a moment, though, before he spoke again. “But if you’re gonna misbehave like that, I might need somethin’ to help me...”

Spy was left alone for only a moment, only long enough to have an internal argument about whether he was allowed to turn around and see what was going on. Then his arms were being pulled behind his back and tied together, and this time both of the Engineer’s hands were free to torment him.

They traced meaningfully up Spy’s chest, left somewhat vulnerable when his arms were tied. “You said you were sorry for being so mean to everyone?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Spy nodded, too keyed up to argue the point again, and was rewarded with his tie being pulled off and his jacket and dress shirt being undone and left to hang open.

A moment’s thought from the Engineer, tracing over his undershirt. “The suits themselves are expensive, but not so much the undershirt and all that,” he said, only partially a question.

Spy nodded hesitantly, distractedly.

In one motion, he siezed the undershirt in both hands and ripped it clean open.

Spy cried out, alarmed, before he realized what had happened and relaxed again, muscle by muscle, heart absolutely pounding as the moment of fear resolved itself as absolute lust in the aftermath, his face heating up bright red.

“You gonna keep acting like a damn menace to the team?” the Engineer prompted, hands smoothing up Spy’s freshly-bared chest.

He swallowed hard. “Dell, please. I would like for this game to be over,” he said, voice breaking a little bit as his desperation reached its boiling point.

“That’s not an answer, doll.”

Spy steadied himself with a deep breath. “Fine. Yes, I’ll be civil.”

“You’ll be good?” he was prompted, and he shivered bodily.

“I’ll be good,” Spy agreed, head hanging.

“Prove it. Say please.”

The flood of conflicting emotions resolved as a kind of overload, his arms starting to tremble a bit. “Please,” he said, terribly quiet.

The toy shut off.

Spy immediately began to struggle against his bonds. “Oh, come on, I said it, I said I was sorry, I apologized, I-I said please, what more do you want from me—?!” he began to protest, outright desperate.

“Hush, hush,” the Engineer was quick to say, urging him to stand, to bend over the table. “Toy just ran out of power is all, darlin’, you did good. You did real good.”

Spy couldn’t quite bite back his moan as the toy was pulled free of his body and set aside, and god, it looked so small there on the table, and yet it had pulled him apart so effortlessly. “Dell,” he managed, voice shaky but still full of warning.

“I know,” he said, voice teasing, and then Spy was full again, this time of three thick fingers, gloved and slick, and any further complaints were pushed right out of view as he was pushed back open and slicked back up. “Think you can hold out long enough for me to get in?”

Spy had to think hard about it, could only distantly register his own heaving chest for a few moments. “I—I am not, sure,” he managed between panting, and cried out sharply as he got the first firm touch of that night in exactly the right place, and after so long of teasing it was almost too much for him to handle, too much pleasure making his toes curl in their shoes. “I-I-I—“

He was gently shushed again by a hand petting over his back, and his fingers moved softer and more slowly from then on, drawing out his pleasure in gentle throbs rather than in lightning bolts, a tide on the shoreline instead of being hit by a truck or three.

He wasn’t entirely sure that he was making sense anymore, could feel words exiting his mouth and could hear them being said, but he couldn’t process them on any level. He just heard the Engineer responding to them with praises and affirmations, and it drew him up higher and higher.

“Dell, please,” he managed, fighting hard to say it through the haze he’d fallen into, voice wavering.

“I’ve got you, doll, I’ve got you,” he assured, and then the Engineer reached around in front of him to tug him off, also so gently, so aware of how close he was to being entirely overwhelmed, and when he finally came it took him a few moments afterwards to remember how to breathe.

He was a model teammate in the following few days, at least until he was sure that the Engineer had probably had enough time to charge that toy again.

#//engiespy #//bondage #//teasing #//powerplay

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macbookpro-hard-drive · 5 years

Text

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.3

did you know that tumblr no longer has those lil.. lines that i liked to separate my notes from my fic with? i didnt. until now. unbelievable.

SO NOW I HAVE TO SUPPLY MY OWN and hopefully this is fine

anyway. ive been... dead for a while. summer destroyed all motivation to do Anything, but ive been forcing myself to write on and off and this part feels... shorter than it should be, but

anyway! i am alive! i have plans! i have things to write! some of them are never going to be on this blog bc theyre original works, but im always open to talk abt them skdfhdsfh

warnings: uhhhhhhh vague manipulation, and i think thats it? just general. squip. yea.

The last time you had seen Michael Mell as a friend had been the beginning of sophomore year. He and Jeremy sat on either side of you in his basement, clutching controllers and halfheartedly playing video games. Soda went untouched and unopened, snacks left alone, and too many times had Jeremy lost on games he knew like the back of his hand. The air had been stiff and uncomfortable, and the feeling had seeped into your nerves and bones to make your stomach turn at the thought of staying longer. Jeremy wasn’t quite there, and Michael was trying too hard to be extra present to make up for it. He became doting on the two of you - quick to refill a snack bowl that had barely been touched with Jeremy following him out of the basement. That was when you found your phone and called your parents, asking if they could come pick you up - bullshitting some excuse about how you felt sick. When Michael came down, he saw you packing up your things with a half-assed apology and a shitty acting job before you tore up the stairs and nearly rammed into Jeremy in the process. Your chest had tightened as you pushed past him with a quick apology and went to wait on the front steps outside for your mom to come get you.

That had been the beginning of the end. After that day, Jeremy had slowly stopped talking to you almost completely. Michael had tried to patch things up, to keep things going, and then he just stopped abruptly. To make things worse, you had broken down at school a few weeks after everything went silent, because you’d been alone. You wiped at your face roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie, and left the bathroom. Barely seconds after you had turned the corner to head to class, you ran straight into him - headphones on and head down - only for his gaze to find yours the moment you stumbled back. He opened his mouth to speak, and you stumbled through a rough, shitty apology before you pushed past him and onward to your class. And then you avoided him purposefully, not wanting to address that little moment of weakness you had.

And now you were sitting in front of him, eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice. Your back pressed into cold metal, the lockers clanging behind you as you pulled away and tried to say something, anything to explain yourself. But Michael just stared at you, uncertain about what to say to you. Your legs were like stone, almost as if something was keeping you from darting away, from finding a safer place to land and cry and get over the tears forced from your body.

“[y/n]?” Michael finally said, still staring at you. The lights overhead gleamed off his glasses and headphones as he pulled them down and around his neck, music loud enough for you to hear. He gave you a quick once-over, his attention now fully on you. “You okay?”

You went to nod only for another sob to overtake you instead. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you admitted after a moment, voice shaking and broken. And it was sort-of true.

“Are you sure?” He said, “hey, I, uh, I know I sorta stopped talking to you and that was kinda shitty but... I’m still here if you need someone to talk to, alright?” After a moment, he tacked on another thought, “do you need a ride home?”

Immediately, you didn’t want to say yes. It didn’t feel right to. But you’re already nodding before you can debate anything further. “Yeah,” you said slowly at first, reaching up and wiping at your eyes. Realization hit you quick. Your bag. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh, kinda left my bag in the auditorium.” You hesitated to step away - you didn’t really want to go back and make an excuse to leave, to let anyone see you with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Michael... can you-”

“On it,” he gave you a small, two-finger salute, “I’ll be back in a sec!”

As Michael took off down the hallway, you felt a pit develop in your stomach while he disappeared around the corner. Nothing felt right. You looked around for a moment, acutely aware of how silent everything had gone. When your SQUIP materialized in front of you, you avoided its gaze as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself for a moment. The world felt a little colder, a little dimmer, and everything was off. The sound of Michael’s approaching footsteps minutes later played the steady beat for your incoming guilt-induced breakdown, and yet the boy smiled at you - as if nothing was wrong. Maybe that was because it looked like nothing was wrong. The strap of your bag was tossed over his shoulder, bouncing against his own backpack, and yet he looked at you like you were still friends.

“Thanks,” you finally said as you reached for your bag.

Michael stepped back, “I’ve got it,” he said with a smile, “don’t worry.”

You let your arm fall back to your side, only to then shove your hands into your pockets. “Thanks,” you said, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

The walk to Michael’s car was mostly quiet, with concerned glances thrown your way every now and then - that, when you caught then, were met with insecure smiles at the situation he’d been pulled into. Which.... frankly, threw you off a bit. Michael had always been the one who was better with all this feelings shit - you and Jeremy had the unhealthy habit of bottling everything up. And now Michael walked in step with you, still warm as ever - and still wearing that damn red hoodie you swore he showered in, but it still made you smile because of course Michael still took good care of it. When you hesitated for half a step upon seeing his P.T. Cruiser, he looked back at you before you shot him an uneasy smile and continued towards the passenger side. One of his moms must have given it to him - whether for his birthday or as a gift for passing his driver’s test, you weren’t sure. But the seats were still well-worn, a Pac-Man sticker stuck on the head-rest of the driver’s seat that Michael had stuck there when bored out of his mind. It was worn with age, like you’d expect it to be, but you suppressed a small smile at the fact it was still there.

If the walk to Michael’s car had been quiet (with the occasional snippit of Michael saying something about how he still feels bad about what happened between the three of you, or about how he’s kinda sorry about the walk to the back of the parking lot) then the ride to your house was dead silent. Music flooded through the car speakers, Michael’s phone resting in your lap due to him pushing it in your direction and telling you to play whatever you want, and his attention was fully on the road - the sound of his phone’s GPS spitting out directions every so often to guide him. You watched out the window, a small sense of dread resting in your stomach the entire way, and for some reason... you felt sick.

When the car started to roll to a stop, Michael reached up and turned the music down. “Hey, uh, you still have my number, right?”

You blinked at him for a moment, before pulling out your phone. “I, uh, think so?” You opened your contacts, flipping through them, “I don’t think I deleted it or anything-”

“Good,” he smiled at you, “if you ever wanna hang out, I’m, uh, pretty free since Jeremy’s busy with this whole.. play... thing.” He paused for a moment, only to follow it up quickly with “I mean if you aren’t doing anything, since - I dunno, you aren’t apart of the cast so-”

“Okay,” you cut him off, “yeah, sure - I’m only painting the set for it, so... I’ll probably try to do that during lunch.”

“I, uh,” he began, nodding towards your jacket, “I like your pin. Have you ever played the old shit?” When you shook your head, he was filled with excitement. “Dude. You have to come over then. I’ve got the classic Zelda stuff if you wanna play.”

Running a hand through your hair, you just sort-of nodded in response as you opened the car door, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Michael.”

You closed the car door, taking a few steps back as he pulled off and drove away, before you turned and head up to your house - pausing to notice your parent’s cars were missing. Right. Letting your bag fall down to your elbow, you began to fish through it to find your keys tucked away in the bottom of your bag, and you nearly sent the contents of your bag spilling when you went to pull it back to your shoulder. But with lightning reflexes that weren’t your own, you managed to snap into action and pull it shut before anything could spill - and when you looked up, your SQUIP was standing before you.

Huh. “... Thank you?” You zipped your bag back up, letting yourself into your house.

“You should stick to hanging out with Michael,” your SQUIP said, watching you head into your bedroom

Dropping your backpack onto your bed, you shrugged at the idea as you began to search for your homework. “I mean, sure, he’s still a cool guy-”

“Michael is close to Jeremy,” it said, as if the fact wasn’t obvious, “therefore, if you get closer to Michael, you’ll get closer to Jeremy.”

You stopped. “Isn’t that using Michael?”

“You were friends with him before. It’s rekindling your friendship that just so happens to mean you’ll rekindle something with Jeremy.” It said, “you aren’t manipulating him.”

You shook your head, setting one binder down and searching for another. “I don’t really like this,” you said, “I don’t want do hurt Michael or anything-”

“Why would you be hurting him by being friends with him?”

Thinking it over, you finally nod a little. “... I guess you’re right,” you looked down at the textbook in your hands. “It just feels wrong-”

“Don’t feel, [y/n],” it stepped beside you, turning your head to meet it’s steely gaze. “Just listen. I’m here to help you.”

Reluctantly, you nod. “... Right.”

So you did. The next day, Rich fell into step beside you - inviting you to stop acting like a loner and to sit with him and Jake and the rest of his friends. You debated taking him up on the offer for a moment, only to spot Michael sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria. You declined immediately, not looking back as you crossed the room to join Michael. That became your routine - sliding into a seat near Michael, talking about video games and whatnot, and occasionally letting the topic slip to Jeremy as Michael had the habit of occasionally venting about the boy.

“I mean,” he started one day, pointing a fork in your direction, “you remember how he is. He’s just... so in love with her,” he shook his head, “and, I mean, yeah, it’s Christine, but he could, y’know... not abandon me every day.”

You nodded, “I’m sure he’s just blinded by his crush, Michael.”

He nodded, stabbing into his burrito bowl, “I know...” He trailed off, looking away for a moment, “I just... he’s excited about this and - and that’s great! He’s actually sort-of talking to Christine!” He smiled back at you, “every time he talks about her, he gets that stupid look on his face. He practically has heart eyes, [y/n].” He paused for half a beat, “but... y’know, I can’t blame him. He keeps talking about how she’s been helping him with his lines, and that she’s so passionate about theatre...”

You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. From your limited interactions with Christine, she seemed to be a complete sweetheart. No wonder Jeremy liked her.

“In time, he’ll like you more.” It nudged it’s way in between your thoughts, “as long as you do what I tell you to. I’ve got a plan-”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you busied yourself with your lunch. “Sure, buddy.”

The stern silence that responded to your tone spoke volumes. But like a knife through butter, Michael’s voice washed away the slight tension you’d begun to feel: “hey, do you still draw?”

You perked up at the question, turning your full attention back to Michael, answering with a far-too chipper “yes!” You immediately forced yourself to calm down, “yeah, I, uh, I still do. My art’s changed a lot, though,” you kind-of smiled, “I have a, uh, pretty decent following online now. I’m just glad I get to do what I love.”

Snagging his phone from his pocket, Michael went silent for a moment as he opened up his tumblr app. “There’s this artist that Jeremy and I discovered - they seem really fucking cool, dude, and they seem like someone you’d like-”

And then you were met with your own artwork, tagged with your online alias, and you had to resist the urge to immediately spill that he’d found you online after you remade your account. You could feel your SQUIP’s fingers gripping your shoulder, and you bit your tongue as you nodded, giving some half-hearted answer about how they seem cool, sure, before wondering why it had stopped you from saying anything.

You didn’t address it until later. Halfway through your homework, you looked up and pushed yourself away from your desk. “Hey.” You spoke aloud.

Within seconds, your SQUIP proceeded to materialize in front of you. “You’re speaking aloud-”

“I know,” you said with a hand wave, “my parents are still out. What was up with that earlier?”

“You shouldn’t go around saying things-”

“But it’s Michael,” you refuted, “I trust him. Besides - wouldn’t telling him that get me closer to Jeremy?”

It’s cold gaze made you shrink under pressure. “I have a plan. [y/n]. If you want to get Jeremy, you have to obey.”

“What about what I want?” You forced yourself to stand your ground, staring at the figure before you, “what if I want to do things differently?”

“You bought me for a reason.” It crossed its arms, watching you, “this is what you want, though. That’s why I’m here: to help you get what you want. And what you want is Jeremy. I’m going to help you get Jeremy, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, [y/n].”

Pressing your lips together, you mustered up a weak nod. Right. “Sorry,” you finally said, “I just - I’m scared it’s not going to work.”

“It will.”

When Michael invited you over the next day, you were more than happy to take him up on the offer. He began to reason it as well, Jeremy’s at play practice, before he ended up dropping the facade and admitting he still kind-of missed you and that it’d been a while since he’d kicked your ass at video games (and, fuck, the glimmer in his eyes when he said that was enough to make you agree, and you realized in that moment just how much you actually missed Michael). So he drove you to his house, letting you take complete control of the music, and then he left you in the basement to find any games you’d be interested in while he grabbed some snacks from the kitchen.

While the two of you played, you talked idly when the situation would allow it. About anything. About everything. About trips Michael had taken with his moms, about his and Jeremy’s brand new Halloween tradition of watching horror movies - usually the shittier ones - and gorging on candy, about how your parents always seemed so busy (and almost immediately Michael offered up his house for whenever you didn’t want to be alone, and you melted a little at the offer). The entire time, the room felt too quiet, even among the conversation and the music of each game. At first, you thought it was because Jeremy was missing. Things didn’t feel right without him. But it hit you, right as you were laughing at something Michael said.

“Hey!” Michael brightened up at his idea, “you should join us.” When you looked over, slightly confused, he continued, “the, uh, Halloween thing? You should join our marathon.”

You faltered for a moment, looking down at your controller. Your voice isn’t your own as you speak, saying some sort of confirmation that felt too distant for it to be you. The guilt built within you, as you pushed yourself to hide the feeling while turning your attention back to the game, back to beating Michael this round. But the thought lingered.

You were using Michael Mell.

#mj's writing corner #be more chill #bmc #be more chill x reader #bmc x reader #be more chill reader insert #bmc reader insert #jeremy heere #jeremy heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine

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w34rdk1dc0r3 · 5 years

Text

Why Killed Markiplier EXPLAINED (notes)

Hi these are my notes- they’re very sparatic and hard to understand but I figured y’all might want them. They were made while watching Markiplier’s latest stream—the time stamps are for DAMIEN and when Mark paused to explain. I don’t have the time stamps for where he explained everything though!! Sorry!

TLDR; this is me frantically taking notes on whatever Mark said related to DAMIEN. :)) these are unedited, so take the spelling errors and stuff with a grain of salt.

WKM notes:

-0:57 (Go Back to Sleep reference) “oh these are parallels - yeah you’re right these are parallels”. Opening shot of Damien from 0:04 of GBTS. Go back to sleep = wanted to make Damien. “This is the mood I want”. DIRECT PARALLEL.

-Opening, establishing, environment. THIS IS JUST HOW FAR DAMIEN WENT EVERY DAY; HE HAD TO GO THIS FAR JUST TO GET WOOD. VERY LONG WALK.

-1:05 Celine is an observer, waiting for him to come back.

-2:11 Wanted to flesh our Celine as a character. Celine = Unknown. “I am not a perfect writer, I’m not a great writer; I’m better than I was.” Celine introduced as not a perf character: motivations UNKNOWN/never determined. “Don’t trust the seer” =\= don’t know what she does/represents. Damien brother/sister canon; had something to care for. THERE TO PROTECT HER BROTHER!!!!! Damien has simple job.

-3:22 “mostly like- I wanted to write dialogue to establish relationship” Celine = overprotective controlling older sibling. Nice dynamic/friendly/showcase flower is not normal. THINGS ARE LOOPING; Celine stops “did u really see a flower?”; strange. SQUISHED. “Starting to sound like mom”

-3:30ish Damien SUDDENLY GETS TIRED. On a LOOP. Winter will be over soon. Trees covering hills = every day he goes to cut a tree. Endless trees. Living SAME EXACT DAY. Celine goes out at night to do business/job. NUMBER OF TREES NOT THE POINT. PURGATORY. FLOWER = FIRST CHBGE.

-4:40 flower: PINK!!!!! dialogue EXACT LINES from WMLWS. Winter -> spring, leaving purgatory. Flower = warfstache peeling back layers covering up world/crack code of matrix/starting to spread out. Flower just a result of warfstache coming to terms with what’s happening and where it’s going. Time is wishy washy. Time has no start or finish of it. Exists = always existed. Everything unified space, someone breaking rules over HERE spills out and effects others in that place. Rules change = rules change for everyone. Dialogue saying that THIS is a RESULT of warfstache, not!!! a conscious choice.

-5:21 pattern!!!!! established

-6:52 something is definitely changing and Celine is worried. Celine goes out to HUNT FOR ACTOR!MARK, NOT TO GUARD. GONNA KILL ACTOR!MARK. Go back to sleep/wake up: duality of two characters having to share a body. Celine made THIS place for broken things(Damien!!). Celine made mistakes in WKM; misjudged actor capabilities. Celine always tries to protect Damien!!!’ she would do LITERALLY ANYTHING to protect Damien. “YOU NEED SLEEP”-damien can stay “alive” only because he sleeps. Not getting enough sleep= you absolutely need to sleep while Celine is out bc you can only be yourself if that is so.

-7:45 bc warfstache is unintentionally breaking universe they’re in, actor!mark can take advantage of it. NOT deception. This day is important because change started NOW—everything before was looping. Damien cutting wood/useless task = Celine’s stuff in an endless loop too (finding mark). SOME control, not IN control. No one is IN CONTROL. Matter of them both being in purgatory until warfstache comes to term with his place in the world.

-8:32 can see shadow of figure in ice.

-9:33Damien’s led to believe Celine is in the water lol. Door of cabin locked from outside. (Flower)= no meaning. “Everything is very plain. With this, it is similar. Everything is very plain.” Too focuses on the details. Winter = seems like purgatory.

-10:02 voices - wanted something to fill the spaces of everything. Auditoría Kay engaging. Hearing things behind the scenes. “Why are you hearing voices?” Not abt what the voices are saying.

-10:13 Actor!Mark; very hard to voice 2 diff characters and have them sound remotely different.

-11:01 Wilford/A!Mark same line. Convey two different people who both (at this time of story) were saying apologies. TWO confrontations happen = similar (detective warfstache/Damien Mark). Similar convos, different people. Things happen in different ways because who they are. Will actually says an apology, actor mark NEVER apologizes.

-12:07 very first conversation we have with the actor. ONLY SAID ONE LINE “welcome welcome one and all, etc.” If something is not ON THE SCREEN or implied in some way, it isn’t 100% proven. Going through summary is PROOF of his crime. “Plans weren’t exactly properly executed”. What he wanted only happened 50%

-13:01 “Celine needed to have motivation to have a character/drive”. Can’t just say actor wanted revenge without painting the kind of person he is. He can’t imagine other people not loving that; thinks he’s doing Damien a favor. HES A NARCISSIST. “Nobody is fully evil or fully good”. Reason he thinks he’s the hero is bc if his perspective, he IS; everyone else is the villain/did him wrong.

-13:43 “oh yeah Wilford STOLE Celine from me lol” STUPID AND NARCISSISM WACK. His career tanked after she left. “It’s her fault bc he lost everything”. “I’m gracious because I decided to move on”.

-14:28 Damien starting to remember but doesn’t understand everything; big dummy softy. Doesn’t realize he’s KINDA dead. Rotten corpse = his reflection.

-14:59 actor wants MORE characters in his story; he wants a villain. Confusion of what you’re supposed to do- represents Damien’s confliction “when do I have a CHOICE??”

-15:30 for so long Wilford/actor have been “If Celine even saw me she would rip my heart out”; “Celine is a FUCKISBNG badass.”

-16:18 Damien just wants to make a choice “life is ours to CHOOSE”. Fire going out = Damien feels dead. Cold, dead.

-17:07 music=wanted to carry on emotional connection. Celine: “I’m tired” she has never slept; watching, hunting, NOT RESTING. Celine is a creature of willpower that she powers through it. Damien: “Am I dead?” Celine: “NO!!” Not on my watch; wall cracking-> sanctuary crumbling. “...no” :(( “I’m so tired”. Celine both starts to admit defeat, but then she picks herself back up. Damien cares so much about her and is very protective about her. Shared line: “just be careful/I can take care of myself (I don’t need help, especially from you.” If she keeps going down this path, she’ll never get out of it (same thing with Abe). Damien/Will want to help.

-17:23 “I know you can’t take care of me forever”; Damien making a choice, IMPORTANT. He trusts that Celine is trying to do the best for him; knows whatever she’s doing/her motives are, at the end of the day, she’s his sister and he wants to help. Whether or not that means things will change for him. Damien’s one moral: This is a story about coming to terms that life throws at you. About someone that didn’t choose things to happen to them, but (In mark’s mind) it’s not about what happens, it’s about how you respond. The choices you make when that happens; it may not always work out but those choices define who you are as a person. At the end of it all, Damien doesn’t understand but he knows Celine can’t do “this” alone.

-17:54 Damien knows he can’t go back to the life he had, and he’s okay with that. “He’s OK that Celine tried to fix, but trying to fix him will get her killed. And he’s okay with him not being fixed”.

-19:49 Celine has been doing everything herself; Damien is offering help. CELINE ISNT DEAD HECK YEAH. “This isn’t a place of the mind-“ fake water. SHE IS SLEEPING UWU UWU. MARKIPLIER TV INSTANTLY AFTER THIS.

-EXTRAS:

•Overarching meaning/story: “These are stories.” In the universe, the world they live in after WKM is stories. They’re acting our scripts/videos because they are characters in stories. It doesn’t matter what was said, it matters why. Celine/Damien live in that story because she made up a narrative for them. Nothing happening in DAMIEN is truly real. Actor wants the ideas of hero’s/villains, he wants to imagine and play pretend. The house is just an analogy for Mark’s imagination/head. CANON that there are plot holes.

EX Detective Abe: (WMLWS) He is going to be the detective in every story. Whatever detective role he needs to be. Doesn’t know why he has to hunt Will down. Hasn’t lived “The Detective”’s life, so he doesn’t know the details, doesn’t have the script. Wilford is acting out of the script because he isn’t IN the script; he’s having FUN.

•Damien: empathy / Warfstahce: insanity, zany, doesn’t always make sense, goofy, fun!!! / ACTOR: Narcissistic part of Mark.

•In “this universe” (the Masson/mark’s Brain), characters act out their lives-> transformed where life doesn’t make sense.

•Not all characters are a part of MARKIPLIERS personality. Characters not representing mark were before actually mark. Went in the mansion ->they were trapped there, the mind (of another Mark?).

•The viewer is, under those terms (an observer), right there, behind the class. They’re the viewer.

•After WKM, we’re watching everything unfold. We’re forced to be an observer -> we can’t change or do anything, only watch. We aren’t trapped with the characters.

•In CANON, Damien -> Markiplier TV.

•A Date with Markiplier doesn’t wrap in with this. Everything happens AFTER WKM.

•Actor SPIRALED bc he couldn’t accept that he lost roles/his wife left him. His choice was to create a situation that tore his entire friendship/ppl that cared abt him apart. He killed/destroyed lives/did terrible things bc that’s how he replied.

•Warfstache was thrown into situation where former friend contrived a situation that took everything away from him. Justification was madness; things didn’t make sense to him so he choose to role with it and enjoy things while they were there. Temporary nature of life is why it’s so precious. Lives in the NOW, the MOMENT.

•Damien has no choice of what was happening. Didn’t understand why his friends tore themselves apart/Will didn’t care/Mark dead/sister suddenly there performing occult things. He was robbed and had things stolen from him; he’s the kind of person that wants to help, he also wants revenge. But the point is: the choices that led him to where he was were choices that helped the ppl he cares abt.

•Who is the character in this universe that is the opposite of Mark (what he said abt darkiplier)?

#markiplier #WKM #who killed markiplier

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adobe-outdesign · 7 years

Note

for the drabble prompt thing: smth abt how Sammy Lawrence became an ink person?

The Ink Machine is screaming.

He watches as gallons of pure black ink gush out of the nozzle of the thing, straining the floor black and covering up the patches of blood that had soaked into the wood. It had made this noise the last few tries, of course - at this point, Joey was almost used to it.

The problem was that the last few tries hadn’t exactly been successful.

The machine seems to shudder and lurch, and something huge and gooey and black slides out from the nozzle, leaving trails of half-solidified ink clinging to the metal. The machine’s noise steadies to a dull pulsing thud, and Joey finds himself holding his breath as he watches the mass.

“Boris?" He tries after a moment, waiting for a response. A cold sense of dread settles in his stomach as he continues to watch the ever-growing puddle, and he licks his dry lips nervously. “…Sammy?"

The mass of ink suddenly lurches forward, grabbing at the side of the machine for support. The excess ink rolls down as the thing slowly tapes shape - globs of ink slowly refining into five fingers, then four. Something resembling a head and shoulders forms and a now-recognizable arm grasps for one of the cogs on the machine to pull itself upward, white pants and suspenders forming out of the sticky black ink making up the figure.

Joey wheels towards it, leaning forward in his chair, heart racing. This is it. It had taken so many tries, so many employees, so many sacrifices and promises to the Gods that he would supply them with whatever they wished for as long as they helped him make his dream come true, the dream he'd give up anything to achieve. And now it was finally, finally happening.

And then the dream ends.

Boris - no, not Boris, not quite yet - lets out a sharp, choked gasp of pain as his body suddenly stops forming correctly, the area where his legs should have been forming too fast, too sloppily. For every part that’s trying to form, there’s another one melting away back into the puddle. There’s so much ink. Joey’s not sure how much ink is needed for this, pints or quarts or gallons, but there’s too much.

There had been… so many failures. So many attempts at bringing Bendy and friends to life. So many times where things had seemed almost perfect only to fall apart at the last minute, dissolving back into puddles, into faceless screaming things. He had thought he had figured out the perfect candidate this time - unlike the others, Sammy Lawrence and Boris’ shared a natural love for music, and that bond would help the two become one. It had to. He wasn't sure how many more failures he could take.

Joey can barely breathe as he wheels over to the machine, panic taking over his usually calm demeanor. He pulls the spout off of the back of the machine, then the box cutter from his back pocket, leaning against the ink container for stability. The blade makes an angry red slash across his palm and he closes it, allowing extra blood to roll off his hand and into the pitch black ink below. It's not much of a sacrifice, but it's better than nothing.

Please, just let this one wish come true.

Joey falls back into his chair, and the machine screeches, jolts, pumps out a fresh wave of thick black ink that coats the half-melted figure on the ground, then goes still. Joey realizes how tightly he's gripping his chair and he forces himself to relax his grip as the mass of ink on the ground slowly pulls itself - himself - forward until he's fully out of the puddle. Sammy collapses and Joey half expects him to melt away right there, but the form holds despite the ink dripping from it.

“Joey…" The voice is still Sammy’s all right, soft and deep and musical, but it’s tainted with pain and confusion. The former director weakly raises an arm out towards him, ink slowly dripping off of it and onto the floor. “What did... What did you... do… creator?"

He’s not Boris, not even close. But he’s stable, and solid, and can still speak and think and do something other than scream like the others. His wish came true.

And Joey finally relaxes and laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #sammy lawrence #joey drew #tw: body horror #tw: self harm #Anonymous #ask #outdesign attempts to write #for every two mundane fics I write I must have at least one decently fucked up one it's the law #figured it would be best to jump straight into the machine itself and not deal with the violent precedent

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poklina · 7 years

Text

nobody asked but yet here it is. i rewrote monday’s scene with jace crying because i love suffering

chapter 2 of torn apart on saturday and then something big comin in abt a week anyways here it is

skyline - 2.3k

The first time he found Alec on the roof of the Institute, Jace didn't really understand why he had to come up here to let out his anger. It was cold, and the New York traffic was loud and distracting, and if Alec wanted to shoot arrows, why didn't he just do it down in the training room?

But Alec kept going up there, and Jace kept following. At any hour of the day or night, you could be sure that Jace has sat with his back to the door, just watching Alec shoot arrow after arrow until his hands were rubbed raw. It got to a point where Jace just stopped asking why, and started asking how can I help.

Damn, what I'd give for someone to ask me why.

The thought floated through his head like a piece of paper on the wind, quickly brought down by another choking sob that clawed it's way out of his throat. He didn't know how long he'd been up here, and he found that he really didn't care. His head was pounding and another wave shot through it every time another pathetic cry tore out of his throat. No one could hear him up here, or see him.

Maybe that's why Alec came up here so often.

The heel of his hands came up to wipe at his eyes roughly , resulting in just more blurred vision and hot tears sliding down his face. Why was he so fucking upset?

Oh yeah. Simon.

He'd tried to avoid him, he really did. After the bite, Jace felt like he couldn't breathe when he was around Simon. Of course, that wasn't really any different from normal, but this...this was worse. Every time he saw him, he was just reminded him of everything he could never have; a happy ending. Simon was with Clary, and obviously loved every minute that he was, that much was obvious. What with the constant kissing and the hugging and twirling and -

Anyways. He'd thought it would've gotten better with time, with distance and separation, but even that didn't work. Because Simon was everywhere, even when he wasn't physically around. Jace kept seeing everywhere; in Clary's smile, in Izzy's jokes, in Jace's blood, crawling towards his heart like a poison. So he turned to fighting, training. The only thing he really knew about himself right now. In the courtyard, sparring with Alec, he almost felt normal again. Felt like nothing had changed.

But then Inquisitor Herondale showed up just to punctuate the fact that none of this was in any way 'normal'.

Being sent to get Clary felt like the universe had a personal vendetta against him. Because whenever Clary wasn't in the Institute, she was with Simon. And there he was. Sitting on a bench, looking every bit like the normal Mundane that he had grown to hate so much, just soaking up the sun like it was all just a regular fucking day. But none of this was fucking normal, and he didn't know why he was so angry all of a sudden, they're dating, they're allowed to sit together, you prick -

And then Simon had to lean in to kiss her, and the only thing that Jace could see was red.

Because he had felt that way before. He had felt Simon underneath him, drawing blood into his mouth like sucking a bruise into his neck, and Jace knew he shouldn't interfere, he knew that Simon was never his to begin with, he knew all of this and he hated that he knew it. Because he wanted more. Jace hated that he wanted more, wanted to feel Simon under him again and again and again, and in more places than just his arm. A fire roared in his stomach as he watched them on the bench, his brain clouded over with pictures of him and Simon against a wall, Simon sucking bruises into his neck, Jace doing the same, and Jace knew that he shouldn't want this, but oh, he did.

By God, did he want that.

It took every ounce of strength in him to move out from behind the van and step up to the happy couple without tearing Clary away and launching her into the river before them. Jace had become detached, a cold anger slowly searing it's way through his veins, and he thought it better this way. Because at least now, he could actually stand to look at Simon.

But then the idiot vampire started to talk to him.

He barely heard anything that he was saying, just letting his autopilot take over, lest he say something completely out of line. Distantly, he heard his responses to Simon's genuine kindness, too sharp and cruel for someone this genuine. He just wanted to walk away, find a tree to collapse against and scream into his palms how fucking unfair it was that he couldn't have him.

Simon actually leaned into hug him. Thank God he had enough mindfulness to turn him down bitterly, words slicing through the air like knives. Lord knows what he would've done had Simon actually had the chance to hold him.

(A small, selfish part of him wants to go back and find out.)

Oh. He remembers why he's on the roof. It's because of Clary.

She knows that they're not related. It should feel like a weight lifted off of his chest, a responsibility that he no longer has to be the sole keeper of. But it doesn't feel like that.

This feels like a bitter acid, eating away at him. Repeating everything she said to him in bright, bright Technicolor. Of course he didn't tell her at first. He know's exactly what she's going to do, and he can't bear to see Simon hurt like that. If she thinks it's about her, it is. It's all about her and what she's going to do to Simon when she finally decides she's sick of her rebound. And Jace swears to every living thing, he doesn't want Simon to get hurt. He doesn't want Simon to see how terrible love is like he did when his dad snapped his falcon's neck at 6 years old.

But another part of him does. Another part, dark and selfish, dripping in blood and vampire venom wants to see Simon break. And he wants to be there to pick up the pieces, put him back together gently and carefully, until his cracks are no more than shining silver scars.

Jace wants to hate that part of himself, but he can't fucking do it.

She told him to feel, that emotions can be helpful. How can she so…blind. Can't she see that's exactly what got him up here in the first place? He feels so strongly around Simon, it fucking feels like its tearing him apart, that's what it fucking feels like. He can't even stand to think of him, let alone be near him. Simon like is a flame and he is gunpowder, and he knows to the core of his soul that he needs to leave him alone, stay far, far away from this sunshine bright man, but he - he just can't. Jace wants to know what it's like to go up in flames, and love every second of it.

Is this what you mean, Clary? Is this how you want me to 'feel'? he thinks viciously, triggering a new flood of tears to come down over his face, teeth grinding together. He's been up here for only 5 minutes. Already, he doesn't remember what he was crying about. He just knows that when Clary hurts Simon, he will rip her limb from limb and see how she fucking feels about that -

The door scrapes across the bottom of the roof, sending a jarring noise straight up Jace's spine that tightens every muscle in his body with apprehension, waiting for the mocking of whoever's behind him. That is, until he hears Alec start to talk about the Inquisitor, like he could care about whatever that old lady was doing. He barely hears anything Alec is saying to him, until his hand lands on his shoulder and turns him around gently, absorbing the sight of Jace's bloodshot eyes and tears streaked face.

He doesn't ask any questions. He just pulls Jace close to him and lets him feel a little bit longer.

They eventually end up with their backs to the door, looking out over the New York skyline in silence. Alec hasn't said anything since he came up here, and the only noise Jace has made is the aborted sobs that he tries desperately to keep pushed down in his chest. He's stopped crying, for the most part. Alec's shoulder is wet with the proof that it took him longer than it should have to stop, and his pounding headache provides more evidence. They simply sit side by side, Alec waiting for the explanation that he knows Jace desperately needs to give. But he doesn't push. He knows what it's like to be pushed.

"It's him, Alec." Jace finally says, barely louder than a whisper, but Alec can hear him clear as day.

"Simon?"

"Of course its fucking Simon. He's been causing me problems since day fucking one and now I can't - I can't get him out of my head -" Jace continues, eyes screwed shut and hands pressing hard into his temples, as if he was trying to push any thought of Simon out of existence. God, if only it worked that way.

"What happened that night?" Alec asked slowly, glancing over at Jace to gauge his reaction. None was given; he simply stayed as he was, knees locked to his chest and hands buried in his hair.

"You can't tell anyone. Okay? Not Clary, or Izzy, or Luke, no one. No one can know, Alec."

"I swear it."

Jace swallowed hard, and his conversation with Simon came back in full force at the front of his mind. Of course, he shouldn't tell Alec. But at this point, he didn't really seem to care.

"Valentine - Valentine slit his throat open. Alec, it was - it was awful. There was so much blood, fuck -" Jace managed to get out before his throat closed up entirely. Images flashed through his head, the red red red of Simon's blood against his skin, the coppery tang in the room that hit him like a train. It was all Jace could do to not start crying again then and there. "I went in as Clary to - to try and save him."

"He bit you." Alec said quietly, a slow realization blooming in his chest.

"Yea." Jace whispered back, sounding like the shell of a man who had been broken one too many times and was tired of being put back together.

"And then?"

"What do you think, Alec?" Jace said, a venomous sort of desperation leaking into his voice like oil dripping from his tongue. "He bit me, and I liked it. I thought I liked him before, but now - now I can't get him away from me." At this, he finally looked up at Alec, eyes considerably dryer than before but still hard and cold with anger. "Alec. He's - he's in my skin, and my blood, and every time I look at him I want him so fucking badly. And - and I know I can't have him, can't ever fucking have him and it - it makes me want him even more."

Alec doesn't respond. How can he? What do you say to someone who's never going to get what they deserve, as much as they want it? Jace was right; Simon is happy with Clary -

And suddenly it all makes sense.

Of course he didn't tell her. He wanted to win Simon over, not come crawling to him to try and pick up the pieces. Alec's heart feels like its been cracked in 2, clean and sharp, no pain, just a dull aching throb of I'msorryI'msorryJaceI'msososorry. But even as Alec looked at Jace helplessly, he couldn't help but get stuck on something else he'd said.

"You liked him - before?" Alec said quietly, more to the stone roof under him than the person sitting next to him. It didn't matter; Alec could still feel Jace's sharp intake of breath after he realized what he'd just said. There was silence for a moment or two, as Jace tried to weigh how much of a mess he'd already made, and how much more could be made with his next few words.

"Of course I did."

There was nothing more to be said after that. Both of them knew that nothing could ever come of whatever Jace wanted. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. Jace tried but failed to hold back another sob as the heels of his hands dug into his eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears that was steadily making it way down his face. Alec heard the choked noise and scooted closer to Jace, swinging an arm around him and pulling him into his side.

They sat that way for a long moment, Alec resting his head against the stone behind him as Jace continued to cry into his side. This was a part of Jace that didn't surface very often, and yet when it did, it came with a vengeance that required at least half an hour to calm him down. Every time he got this way, Alec's heart broke a little more for his parabatai, someone who deserves the world and gets nothing in return.

Jace still doesn't quite understand why Alec comes up here so often, but after today, he thinks he's starting to get it.

#jimon #eversall #simonsblondie #userbritt #claryfightwood #my fics #i was talkin abt this with kelsey and the this happened 4 days later #wow #anyways i hope u like this just smthing little

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