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clareguilty · 4 years

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Sharing a Stolen Name

Read it here on AO3! Arthur Morgan/Reader Rating: Explicit | No Warnings Word Count: ~5500 Thank you to @verai-marcel for looking over this for me <3

You stroll into Rhodes head high and eyes wary. You've never been this far south before, but you need to speak with Hosea, and his letter said Lemoyne was the place to find him.

Fear races down your spine as the door to the sheriff’s office bursts open. You've been here for less than five minutes, and you really can’t afford any trouble.

A greasy sonovabitch comes racing down the street towards you, chased by a few harried lawmen. Just as the fugitive gets closer, you swipe a kick at his ankles and he goes flying into the red dirt.

An outlaw for sure. Not that you’re any better. The man curses you and tries to scramble to his feet, but you knock him back to the dirt.

"Thank you for that, miss," the sheriff pants when he catches up, ordering for his deputies to round up the man. "And who might you be?"

"Callahan," you give him the first fake name you've got. This sheriff looks like a fool but you have no doubt he can read a wanted poster.

"Callahan? You got siblings?" The sheriff asks, a wave of recognition crossing his features.

"No, sir," you answer quickly.

"Huh. We got another Callahan back in the office right this moment. He's working with some fine gentlemen around here. Figured y'all might be kin."

Another Callahan? Might be no one. You had borrowed the name, and this Callahan may very well be authentic, but you can't keep from asking.

"Arthur?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Arthur's here? In the sheriff's office?" Is he in trouble? It didn't sound like it. Why would Arthur be hanging around lawmen?

You follow the sheriff, fear and worry stirring in your chest. Every worst case scenario plays out all at once in your head.

The sheriff pushes open the door and you're surprised to see Arthur leaning back in a chair, lazily smoking a cigarette. Even stranger is the silver badge on his chest.

"Arthur!" You run to his side, unable to contain your relief. He’s safe. He’s… deputized?

"Well, would you look at that. Mr. and Missus Callahan," the sheriff teases.

Arthur hesitates a moment, surprise and confusion crossing his face. He hasn’t seen you in months, yet here you are, sharing his stolen name. You throw your arms around his neck, whispering to him. “Looks like we’re married this time, Mr. Callahan.”

He plays along, rubbing circles into your back and leaning into the embrace. “Darling,” he says loud enough for the other men to hear. “I’m glad you made it.”

“I missed you,” you place a hand on his cheek. You mean the words, and you hope Arthur can see that even through the act.

“How touching,” one of the other deputies drawls. “Didn’t know you was married,” he raises his eyebrows at Arthur.

“She’s been working in the city these past months,” Arthur lies easily. “I ain’t seen her since she left last winter.” His hand wraps around your middle, settling on your hips. “Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to give my wife a proper welcome.” He begins to usher you to the door, and you flush bright red as the sheriff and the deputy whistle and howl their congratulations.

Arthur helps you onto his horse and slips into the saddle behind you, riding quickly out of town. You whistle for your own horse to follow behind you. A peal of laughter escapes you, ringing out across the meadows. “Thanks for being so quick back there, cowboy. Saved our skins.”

“You weren’t bad yourself, Mrs. Callahan.” He chuckles. “May need to find yourself a new name, though, unless you wanna stay tied to me?”

You roll your eyes. “Did you see that sheriff? He was eating the whole thing up. Everyone’s a sucker for love.”

“If I see them again, I just know I’m gonna hear more about my lovely little wife.”

You’re glad Arthur can’t see your face. You’re positively pink. Lovely. Arthur called you lovely. Even if he was just teasing.

This was your problem. When you had first joined the gang, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from falling for Arthur. He’s kind, handsome, strong. You had tumbled head over heels before you had even realized, and by then it was too late. Arthur was in love with Mary. He was going to propose.

No matter what you did, your feelings hadn’t subsided, but you knew there was no use in torturing yourself. With Hosea’s blessing, you had gone off on your own, only returning to the gang every few weeks. It was easier that way. You could ignore your feelings and throw yourself into your work, whatever that may look like. But you knew you always had a home to go back to.

So you lived that way for years. Staying away from the gang longer and longer each time. It hurt, every time you returned and every time you left. Arthur was still your friend, but things had to be this way.

Yet now Arthur was calling you lovely. Arthur had held you. The danger had passed and you could only think about how you wished the embrace was real.

“What brings you around?” he asks.

“Needed to talk with Hosea. I was doing some honest work for a family near strawberry, but there’s a lot of money in that town, and I think he could work his magic on the rich folk.” The town attracted wealthy northerners like flies to honey. Hosea loved nothing more than stupid rich people who wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Honest work? What sort?”

“There was a widowed gentleman who needed help. He has two young kids and no one to care for them. He paid well, and the house was nice. I grew rather fond of the children. I may go back for a few months if he’ll take me. I could see myself having some kind of life there.”

Arthur makes an indignant sound. “You were some kind of nursemaid?”

“More of a governess,” you correct him quickly. “I’m smart. And I know my way around polite society. I’m more than just an outlaw or a farmhand.” Arthur’s comment had gotten under your skin. You were respected in that house. Mr. Rochester was kind, and he treated you as an equal.

“You are,” Arthur says. “But is that really what you want? To live in another man’s house and care for kids that ain’t even yours?”

“What choice do I have, Arthur?” you snap. “I don’t have a house of my own. I don’t have kids of my own. I was married today for all of ten minutes and the whole thing was a lie. People like us don’t get a happy ending. You said so yourself.”

He’s silent the rest of the ride to camp, and you’re thankful for it.

Your return is joyful, despite your argument with Arthur. Mary-Beth is enamoured with your life at Mr. Rochester’s home, and she keeps you up well into the night with questions.

“He paid for your clothes?” she asks, eyes wide.

“Anything I wanted,” you grin. “I just marked it in the catalogue and gave him my measurements.”

“And you had your own room?”

“And I could use the washroom whenever I wanted.”

“What about the children? Were they terrible?”

“Oh at first, yes.” You laugh and shake your head. “But they weren’t expecting me to fight them back. They were much more interested in their lessons when I promised them stories of the great van der Linde gang.”

Mary-Beth’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t?”

“I sure did. All about Arthur Callahan and company.”

Mary-Beth watches you carefully. You can tell she knows. You’ve never been able to get over your feelings for Arthur. No matter how long you spend away from the gang.

“What about the man of the house? Was he kind?” she asks.

“Oh very,” you nod. “He’s a gentle soul. He wants to do right by his children, but he knows he can’t care for them by himself. He misses his wife every day. He’s very interesting. Funny, charming. He didn't ask too many questions about where I came from although I’m sure he knew it was nothing but trouble.”

Mary-Beth thinks for a long moment. “Do you think he could fall in love with you?”

The question makes you start in your seat. “Why would he do a thing like that?”

“You’re living in his house. Caring for his children. It seems like the perfect ending.” She wears a wistful expression.

“I- I couldn’t, Mary-Beth. You know that.”

She nods. You love Arthur. As much as you wish you didn’t. There is no one else for you.

“Pardon the interruption-” Both of you jump and turn. Hosea has snuck up on you. “Dear, you know we care for you, but I worry about you. All this time and you still can’t let go of something that’s clearly hurting you. I think Miss Gaskill is right. You deserve a happy ending, one that doesn’t involve lawmen hot on your heels.”

You know where Hosea is going with this. The thought makes your heart twinge.

“You understand, don’t you? If you have a chance to make a life for yourself, one that is better than this, you should take it.”

“But Hosea-” you start.

“Don’t ‘but Hosea’ me,” he shakes his head. “It’s time for you to make the hard choice. You’ve lived far too long without doing anything, and it’s time to brace yourself for the pain.”

Tears well in your eyes. Mary-Beth takes your hand. You can tell she’s glaring at Hosea. “She’ll make her own choice in her own time.”

Hosea’s hand squeezes your shoulder. “I hate to see you suffer.” And he’s gone.

The next day, you can’t forget Hosea’s words. You find him in the afternoon, reading a book in the shade. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him; he’s waiting for you to speak.

“You’re right.” You hate to say it, as if Hosea needs to be reminded. He doesn’t say anything, so you continue.

“I’ve been holding on to Arthur for too long. All these years I’ve been stuck waiting for something to change. I need to move on and do what’s best for myself.”

Hosea is watching you. “And what does that look like right now?”

You focus on a knot in the wood of the table. “I’m going to tell him how I feel — not right now, but when I’m ready to leave again. I need that closure at least. He needs to know why I’m leaving, and I need to know once and for all that he doesn’t love me. Then I’ll return to Mr. Rochester and ask if I can continue working for him.”

Hosea places his hand over yours. “You’re very brave and very strong.”

You shake your head. “I’m a coward, always have been and always will be.”

A few moments pass. “If I leave, I’m not coming back.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Hosea doesn’t even blink.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s not time for goodbyes yet.”

Knowing that this will be your last time with the gang fills your days with a strange melancholy. Every conversation feels more important. Every night feels more like a dream. It’s not hard for those close to you to realize something is wrong.

“Is everything okay?” Arthur asks. The last person you can bear to see. But he’s still one of your closest friends.

“Everything’s fine Arthur.” You’re still upset with him from a few days before.

“I’m here if you need me,” is all he says.

Dutch, either oblivious or uncaring of your strife, asks for your help on a burglary.

“I’m so glad you’ve come back to us. There’s a small plantation that is in need of your skills.” He claps you on the shoulder and leads you to a map. “Arthur can ride out with you, keep a lookout while you’re inside.”

Your stomach drops. Of course.

“I don’t need a lookout, Dutch. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Nonsense,” he waves his hand, “You’ll leave at sunset.”

Sunset comes far too quickly. You’re brushing down your horse when you hear Arthur approach. “You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you saddle up and start riding before Arthur even has a chance to catch up.

He catches up to you easily, falling in beside you and riding silently for a few minutes. You try to convince yourself that everything would be fine. It was just one job.

Arthur looks on the verge of saying something for several minutes before he actually speaks. “I never, uh, apologized -- for what I said a few days ago. I spoke out of line and I shouldn’t have. You’re doing right by yourself, and if you’re happy, then I can’t say nothing against it.”

His apology floors you. You had known Arthur to own up to his mistakes -- one of the many reasons you loved him -- but you had never seen him lay himself so bare before you. It was more of an apology than you deserved.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you finally manage. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you anyways. I just need to do what is best for myself. I’ll be on my way again soon.”

Arthur looks about ready to ask you something, but thinks the better of it. The question must have eaten away at him though, because he caves eventually. “Why do you spend so much time away from the gang?” He shakes his head as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Stupid question. I just -- you always seem half in half out. Not like Trelawny is either, it’s like there’s something keeping you.”

He was right. He saw right through you but somehow missed the mark. Did he not know that he was the reason you never truly left? That he was the reason you couldn’t bear to stay?

“It’s something I need to get over myself,” you answer. It was cryptic and vague, but you couldn’t tell him now. You weren’t ready yet. After the job, maybe? You could leave first thing tomorrow and ride back to Strawberry.

Arthur pulls up close and reaches for you. “I’m here, you know. If you need me. I can help. Lord knows you’ve been there for me all these years.”

You pull away, unable to even respond. His words are like a douse of ice cold water, like desert sand rubbing you raw.

The plantation is a moderate size, wealthy enough but not so much as to be crawling with guards. You and Arthur ditch the horses at the fence line, creeping up to the big house without any trouble.

One of the windows at the back of the house pushes open, and you tug your boots off and hand them to Arthur. “Hold on to these, I don’t want to be too loud in the house.”

He takes the boots and dutifully lifts you so you can climb through the window.

As unassuming as the property was, the inside speaks of wealth. Gilded, polished, velvet. You’ll make out of this with plenty of cash.

Watches, jewelry, pins, and pens. You fill your satchel and your pockets before you even make it to the stairs. There are some stacks of bills in the downstairs office that you shove into your shirt, but no safe or strongbox. There has to be one somewhere.

At the top of the stairs you’re faced with several closed doors. Low light flickers from beneath one, and you hear snoring from behind another. At the end of the hall, you find a room that looks to be cold and quiet. Picking the lock, you slip inside, lighting a match to see around the room.

It’s dark, a study of some sort with shelves along the walls and a heavy wooden desk. Your match burns down and you move over to the window, sliding the curtains aside and lifting the pane. Once you’re sure no one was about, you let out a long low whistle, easily mistaken for a dove.

But doves weren’t out this time of night.

Arthur hears the signal and rounds the house a moment later with your boots in tow. You wave to him before gesturing back inside. You just need to check this last room.

The strongbox is in the bottom of a wardrobe under some thick winter coats. You shove as many valuables as you can into your pockets and even your trousers. Arthur can take some of it off your hands when you get outside. Even with the window open, it’s very dark in the study, and you fumble blindly through the desk drawers for anything else.

You’re on your way to the door, ready to creep back down the stairs, when your socked foot catches on an end table. You’re able to suppress your cry of pain, but you can’t stop the loud crash as the table topples over and everything on it scatters to the floor.

“Shit,” you hiss, hopping back to the window.

Arthur must have heard the commotion as well because he’s looking up at you with an exasperated expression.

You hear a door down the hall slam followed by the sound of footsteps. Good thing you relocked the door behind you at least, buying you another half second hopefully.

Redrawing the curtains, you climb through the open window, hanging from the sill as your feet dangle uselessly an entire story off the ground.

The door to the study opens.

“Push off and jump,” Arthur hisses. “I’ll catch you.”

“What?” you ask, but do as he says anyways. It’s a half second drop before you land against something broad and grouchy. Definitely Arthur.

You’re both sprawled on the ground, but he drags you to your feet, shoving your boots at you. “We gotta run.”

“No shit,” you take off towards the fields, hoping the sugar cane will give you enough cover. Arthur, surprisingly, lets you tug your boots on once you’re shrouded in the tall plants. Both of you listen for sounds from the house.

“Take these,” you start pulling stolen items from your clothes and pushing them into Arthur’s arms.

“I thought you felt lumpier,” he says as he shoves everything into his satchel. You glare at him.

The two of you steal through the sugar cane at a snail’s pace, wary of anyone that may be looking for the burglar.

“What did they do to deserve Dutch’s attention?” you asked. There was definitely money in the house, but Dutch usually had motivations beyond just that.

“Look around you,” Arthur shakes a stalk. “Who do you think works these fields?”

“Ah,” It dawns on you, “Well paid white folk.” There’s no missing the sarcasm in your voice.

“Exactly,” Arthur grabs your hand and pulls you along. “One of the ‘workers’ gave Dutch the tip, in exchange, we’re splitting the take.”

“Sounds fair,” you try to keep pace with Arthur, but your foot catches on the sugar canes and you tumble forward.

Arthur turns to catch you, only to be flattened for a second time that night. You’re sprawled on top of him, cursing up a storm.

He shifts beneath you, and you realize his hands are pinned between your chests. “A lot less lumpy, now.” His grin is crooked, and his eyes shine. You huff and scramble to your feet. “Sorry,” he says as he dusts himself off.

“Let’s just get to the horses.”

Arthur picks through your findings as you ride back towards camp. “Damn,” he whistles, “I hope you make as good a governess as you do a burglar.”

His words hurt. You still aren’t ready to face that yet, but now may be as good a time as any.

“I’m leaving again,” you say. Your throat already feels tight and you know you won’t make it through this without crying.

“So soon? You’ve hardly been back a week!” Arthur looks almost angry with you.

“This time, I’m leaving for good. I talked with Hosea already; he says I should do what’s going to be best for me.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, but his brows pinch together. You can’t understand what he’s feeling.

“Arthur,” your voice breaks. You can’t speak for several moments as you try to lessen your tears.

“I don’t get it.” He cuts in, “If leaving is going to hurt you like this, then why go at all? You’ve never liked it out there. You always hate leaving — I know you do.”

“Arthur,” you find your voice again, “You’re one of my dearest friends. All these years, you’ve stood by me. I made the foolish mistake of falling in love with you, and I’ve been too much of a coward to let you go. But I can’t lose any more years to loving you. I have to start a new life some time. I’m going back to Mr. Rochester. I’m going to live an honest life and teach two beautiful children, and maybe one day I’ll love someone the same way I love you. I’m sorry for burdening you with this, but I can’t leave until I know I’ve ended things here.”

The silence is suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning and you can only hope the current will wash you ashore.

“You love me?” Arthur looks dumbfounded. “You’ve left all these years because you love me?”

You don’t say anything. You’ve said enough. All that matters now is getting out of camp as fast as possible. You don’t even care about the money you’ve stolen. You’ll be gone by daybreak.

“You��re a fool. A damn fool.” His voice is raw.

It’s the last thing you want from him. Pity, mockery. You know how stupid you are, he doesn’t need to rub it in. Spurring your horse forward, you race back to camp, ignoring Arthur calling after you.

You make it back to camp. It’s late in the evening and only a few people are still awake, one of whom is Dutch, eagerly awaiting your return. He catches your expression and instantly reaches for you. “Is everything alright, dear? Where is Arthur? Is he safe?”

“Arthur is just fine,” you snap. He’s probably not far behind you, which means you only have a few minutes to leave before he gets back.

You begin dumping your spoils on the ground before Dutch, who is desperately trying to determine the source of your anguish.

“I’m leaving,” you tell him firmly. “I’ll pen a letter to Hosea as soon as I can.”

Dutch follows after you as you head to gather your things.

“Come, now,” he says. “You’ve only been back for a few days. At least rest some. You can leave once you’ve slept and eaten.”

You shake him off. “I’m going, Dutch.”

He doesn’t say anything more, just stands by as you pack your things and grab supplies from Pearson’s wagon. You approach him just before you mount up, unsure. “Thank you, Dutch. For being there for me.”

He looks at you, eyes seeing something you couldn’t even find in yourself. “You’ll be back.”

It’s not threatening, not angry or even sad. It’s something he knows.

Well, he’s wrong.

“Goodbye,” you squeeze his hand and turn back to your horse.

The poor beast is tired, but you push as hard as you can towards the heartlands. You’ve got to get as far away as you can before sunrise.

Except the crack of a pistol makes you and your horse start, and you search wildly for the source of the shot.

Three men on horseback appear from the brush. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn’t even see them.

“Stop,” the leader of the three demands.

You reign your horse in, already reaching for your pistol.

A lantern is raised. “Hey, aren’t you Missus Callahan?”

You squint in the low light and recognize the Rhodes Sheriff. “Yessir,” your voice is still shaky. You pray this isn’t your end.

“What are you doing out? Don’t you know there’s outlaws about ma’am?”

You shake your head. “I… I didn’t know.”

“Ma’am, are you feeling alright? You certainly don’t look too well.” It’s the deputy. The sheriff shoots him a harsh look.

“I’m fine, just needed some air is all,” you need to make your lie believable. “Arthur and I, we got into a fight.”

The lawmen have never looked more useless. They’re clearly out of their element trying to console an upset wife.

“Well,” the Sheriff smoothes his mustache, “what do you say we ride back into town. You can have a drink and a few hours to yourself, and we’ll see where we go from there.”

“Oh, no I-” You need to be gone. You can’t go back. “You must have important business. I couldn’t trouble y’all.”

“Nonsense,” the sheriff waves his hand. “It’s too late and too dangerous for a pretty young thing like you to be riding by yourself.”

If you protested any more, you would only rouse suspicion, so you give in and follow the three men back to town.

A long drink of whiskey later and you find yourself slumped asleep in the comfiest chair in the Sheriff’s office.

“Mr. Callahan,” a voice greets, “Just who we’re looking for!”

You blink awake, pushing up the brim of your hat up. Arthur looked terrible. You wondered if he had slept at all.

“Heard you had a bit of a lover’s quarrel last night, found your other half out in Scarlett Meadows near moonset.”

Arthur sees you and staggers forward. You’re surprised when he throws his arms around you, crushing you in close to him. “I thought you’d gone,” his voice was shot.

“I tried,” you tentatively return Arthur’s embrace.

“C’mon,” he tugs you towards the door, “Don’t worry. We’ll get everything sorted out.”

You didn’t trust him.

“Thank you,” Arthur extends a hand to the sheriff. “I appreciate you looking out for her.”

Against your better judgement, you follow Arthur. He leads you to a pasture by the lake, sliding out of the saddle and rolling out his bedroll. “If I sleep, will you still be here when I wake up?”

You eye him, but don’t say anything.

“Look, neither of us has slept in far too long. Get a few hours of rest and I promise we can sort everything out. I’m tired.”

You were tired too, so you rolled out your own bedroll. A few hours of sleep.

“You’re still here?” Arthur looks surprised.

You shrug. “Thought about leaving.” But Arthur had looked so peaceful in his sleep. Your weakness had kept you from abandoning him.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I can’t stop you if you want to go, but I can’t let you leave just yet.” He stretches, watching you as though you were startled prey.

“Don’t make me regret staying.”

Arthur chuckles. “I can’t promise that. But I need to get something off my chest.”

You glance at him, curious. What could Arthur have to say to you?

“Last night, you said you’re always leaving because you love me. That for some reason you can’t stay because of that. But you never told me. Why?”

It hurts. You fight down the pain in your chest and set your jaw. “I cared too much for you -- for everyone -- to ever truly leave. But I couldn’t bear to stay when I spent every day dreaming of something I couldn’t have. That’s why Hosea let me leave. I wanted things to work out for you. I wanted you to be happy with Mary. But the gang is my family.”

Arthur takes a slow breath. “All these years? You’ve been running away from me all these years because…” His brows pinch together as he struggles to find the words.

“I just…” you hold back tears. “I couldn’t bear to lose you. I have to let go sometime. I can have a life out in West Elizabeth. But I’ll miss you, Arthur.”

“You can’t leave.” He says the words and immediately grimaces. “I mean — you can, I just — I want you to do what is best for you… because I love you.”

Everything stops. The words nearly don’t register.

“How long?”

“What?” He looks bewildered.

“How long have you loved me?”

“A while,” he sighs. “Year or so? Since Vegas at least.”

You can’t believe it. “That long? And you never said anything?”

“Neither did you,” he counters.

“You were going to propose!” you hiss.

“She turned me down,” he looks to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” you place a hand on his shoulder. “You have to understand why I couldn’t stay.”

“I do.” Arthur looks up at you with sorrow in his eyes. “I think you can make a life for yourself with this… Manchester?”

“You think I’m going back to Mr. Rochester?” You blink, incredulous.

Arthur rubs his jaw. His eyes shine. “Seemed pretty set on it.”

His foolishness makes your heart hurt. “Arthur, I’d stay here — if you’d have me.”

He pulls you into his arms, crushing you to his chest. “I think we can take some time to figure it out. What do you say?”

“I say we’ve taken enough time, wouldn’t you?”

Dutch smirks when you ride back into camp with Arthur and collapse together in his tent. The whole day is spent whispering to each other, refusing to be apart for more than a few minutes. Arthur shows you pages in his journal when he had written about his feelings for you, and you talk about the many times you fell in love with him again and again.

Night falls, and Arthur pulls you into his arms before you can even think about leaving to sleep somewhere else. “I’ve got a lot of years to make up for. You’d best be ready for me to never let you go again.”

You rest against his chest, finally able to have the closeness you have dreamed of for years. The life you had wanted, together with Arthur.

You wake long before the sun rises, still nestled against Arthur. He’s awake as well, tracing shapes into your skin absentmindedly.

“You alright?” you ask.

“I’m perfect.”

You giggle -- actually giggle -- and press your lips to the exposed skin of Arthur’s chest. His breath hitches. You glance up in surprise.

“Darling,” he turns you to face him, gaze intense, “Can I make love to you?”

Your heart is going to beat out of your chest, and you’re sure you feel like hot coals the way your blood heats up. A shaky nod.

Arthur kisses you with so much heat and passion, gripping you tightly, trying desperately to memorize the feel of you against him. His lips trail over your jaw, down your neck. He rips open the front of your blouse and muffles your squeal of surprise with his palm. “Just let me take care of you,” his voice is low, breathy.

You’re heaving and shaking at his ferocity. It’s overwhelming, but you want this as much as he does. He drags your trousers down, lifting you easily and moving your hips to where he wants them. You’re surprised when he continues his trail of kisses from the crook of your knee up your thigh. “Arthur,” you gasp, “what are you-”

His tongue touches your heat and you gasp. He’s determined, a kind of fire and will that makes men cower before him. Instead, you’re crying and shaking as he drags his tongue over your clit and slips a finger inside of you. His other hand holds you so tightly, you may very well have bruises.

You come over his lips, quicker than ever in your life. And while you’re still dazed and reeling, his hand is on your cheek. You meet his eyes and see that the fire hasn’t subsided. “Can I take you, Darling? Please?”

You lean up to kiss him, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other reaching for his hard cock.

He slams into you to the hilt, muffling your screams with his lips. “Thank you,” he whispers against your skin. “I love you.”

You try to respond in kind, but he’s fucking you hard and fast. The roughness would scare you coming from anyone else, but this is Arthur. He’s holding you so closely, eyes fluttering and lips parted. You cling to him as well, years of pain and longing washing away as your fingers skim across his bare skin.

His cock fills you like nothing ever before. His hands are rough but gentle against your skin. You could stay like this forever.

You come again, vision going white as you drag your nails down Arthur’s back and feel only a little remorse. He follows shortly after, spilling over your stomach before collapsing on top of you, knocking the wind out of you.

“Arthur,” you wheeze. “I love you, but I can’t breathe.”

He rolls to the side, dragging you in close and nuzzling into your hair. “We can wash up in a few minutes. I just need to hold you.”

You press a kiss to his lips, soft and gentle, one of thousands more to come.

#look #this isnt my best work #but i just want it gone #i tried my best #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan/reader #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #smut #lemons #my rdr2 fic #arthur callahan #fake marriage

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gaylotusthatexists · 4 years

Text

just like him

pairing: This is just Roman being sad so no pairings per se but. creativitwins is strong in this one

summary: After... certain things are said, after things go a little too far, Roman recounts his days with his brother, Remus, and wonders if he's really the purely good prince everyone says he is.

trigger warnings: crying, negative thinking, just a general mental breakdown, sad ending kinda, honestly i’m so sorry about this. also deceit and remus make an appearance

word count: 1987

a/n: soooooo that video huh. yeah uh i'm sad. basically. but also the video was awesome and led me to think of some angst which is f u n. honestly i just wanted to explore roman's feelings regarding remus and after yesterday's video. let's just say i got some ideas. anyway, this is set directly after yesterday's video, so obvious spoilers ahead. hope y'all enjoy ^^ (tagging @theloveliestsweetspongy he’s some roman angst for you)

ao3

Roman bit his lip, trying to suppress the tears close to escaping from his eyes. Deceit - Janus couldn't have been telling the truth, right? Of course he wasn't, he didn't do that. He was just... trying to get a rise out of Roman. Like always. But Roman wouldn't let him, he couldn't be defeat by him.

But, deep down, Roman knew he was... no, not right, but...

God. What if he was like Remus?

He leant back, smacking his head against the wall, and closed his eyes, breathing out. He wasn't bad like Remus. He couldn't be. He was the Prince.

It had been nice at first, to have a brother. Back when the two of them first formed. With two of them, it meant that they always had someone to be with, always had someone to play with. And they didn't quite understand how or why there was now two of them, but... they weren't about to complain. They had a brother.

And Remus wasn't so bad at first. Sure, he was loud, and a little obnoxious at times, and maybe now and then he'd say things that he probably shouldn't. But Roman was the same! They were both Creativity. They could create together, share ideas - Roman's ideas were really the only ones that got through to Thomas, but Remus... tried. And Roman loved him for that. He loved how the two of them could have a laugh together, create something even if the others didn't like it. It didn't matter back then.

Until it did begin to matter. Until Roman realised what exactly was going on.

There was a gentle knock on his door. Roman threw his covers over his head and hid, ignoring the person walking into his room. Maybe if he stayed underneath the covers, they would think that he was sleeping, or something, and go away.

They didn't. Someone sat on the edge of his bed, stroking his shoulder through the blanket. Roman tried to remain as still as possible and closed his eyes, willing himself away from this.

Roman wasn't supposed to be like Remus. From the sounds of it, he wasn't even supposed to like Remus, period. He'd been told time and time again that he was the good guy, the hero, the Prince of Thomas' dreams. And he'd been told that Remus was the bad guy, the villain, that he was only trying to hurt Thomas. And, yeah, maybe Remus crossed the line every now and then - well, a lot of the time, actually - but that was fine! Thomas knew not to actually do what Remus said, if it was going to harm him. And Roman was still around to make actual contributions and... to keep Remus at bay.

Besides, Remus wasn't the only side that did that. That Anxiety fella always seemed to get Thomas down, but Morality never seemed to have a problem with that, did he? That was just Anxiety doing his job. Just like Remus was doing - how come he was bad?

Roman was good though, that much he was sure on. Thomas loved his contributions, Thomas was always happier when Roman took charge, when Roman was able to show Thomas the beauty of the world, of his world. And, sure, maybe sometimes Remus would come and ruin it, and maybe sometimes that frustrated Roman, maybe sometimes he wished that he didn't have a brother, that he was... that he was the only Creativity. Roman was all Thomas really needed, right? He never listened to Remus' suggestions, so why was Remus even here? Just to spoil Roman's fun?

Maybe that was when Roman began to see Remus as the villain. He just wanted Remus gone, so that he had the control over Thomas' imagination, but... the only way that could happen was if Remus was bad. If Thomas didn't want Remus around, then... well, Remus wouldn't be around any longer.

That had happened to Anxiety, hadn't it? When Thomas showed more signs of bravery (Roman's doing, he was sure) and didn't want to constantly fear the world around him. So... he took Anxiety away. That snake fella... what was his name? Whatever. He took Anxiety away, why couldn't he take Remus away as well?

Roman opened his eyes as he felt himself falling, just in time for him to reach out his hands and stop himself from hitting the ground head-on. He wasn't in his bed anymore. This was- This was the Imagination. He must have been thinking too much and brought himself here.

That was fine. He began to wander around the fields of the Imagination, heading away from the Palace and down into the forest, away from everyone else. He imagined - ha, imagined - that he looked like a mess right now, and, for once, he didn't particularly care. Besides, he felt like a mess, so maybe appearing like a mess wouldn't be that bad.

He walked through the forest, breathing in the fresh air. He wasn't crying anymore, at least, but...

Remus was taken away, eventually. And then it was up to Roman to keep Thomas' creativity flowing. Exactly how he wanted it, right?

Thomas loved Roman. And so did the others. Morality was always so proud of him, and Logic was... well, Logic was Logic, but he never hated Roman, not like... not like they all hated Remus.

He'd seen it happen. He'd seen Morality shut Remus down, constantly complain at him for even the smallest of suggestions, just because those suggestions weren't always 'pure' or 'innocent'. And neither were Roman's! But Morality never complained to Roman. He always encouraged Roman, so maybe... maybe the problem wasn't with Remus' ideas, but more with Remus himself.

Because Remus was the villain, and you weren't supposed to like villains. So then Roman had to become the hero. He had to be perfect, not like Remus at all, or else everyone else would hate him.

He hadn't seem Remus in a while, but Remus still plagued the back of Roman's mind. He could hardly remember that last time the two laughed together - maybe that hadn't been real, maybe Roman had been so desperate to have a good brother that he'd made it up. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that he made something up in order to make himself feel better.

No - Remus remained an image in the back of Roman's mind, the image of everything that Roman didn't want to be, that Roman couldn't be if he wanted to be listened to.

Roman saw a flash of green out the corner of his eye. And then a cackle, heading towards him. He groaned - of course, of fucking course.

"Hey, Roman," Remus said, grinning.

Roman really wasn't feeling up for this.

Remus frowned. "What's wrong? Your hair's all over the place."

"I know, asshole," Roman snapped, "you don't have to bring it up." He pushed past Remus and continuing his walk. After a moment, Remus ran up to his side and walked as well. Roman groaned. "Would you stop?"

Remus blinked. "Stop what?"

"Just... stop."

Remus hummed. "I think I'll continue, actually. Stopping everything sounds like a lot of work."

"Well, can you stop being a nuisance?" Roman said. "And just leave me alone, maybe."

Remus didn't leave. Groaning, Roman clicked his fingers, leaving the Imagination. He couldn't be dealing with this right now.

Roman was alone, after Remus had been taken away from him. Maybe he regretted his wish. Now he had nobody to play with, no one to create with, it was... it was all up to him.

That's what he wanted, of course. He wanted to have full control, for Thomas to listen to him and only him. And Thomas did, for years. Well, he listened to Morality and Logic as well, of course, but... he didn't have to listen to Remus anymore. He only took Roman's suggestions, and that was perfect.

Only... it meant that he had to be perfect as well, all the goddamn time. And sometimes something would slip out, sometimes Remus could take control for a second, and Roman would be blamed for that. Without Remus around, he had nobody to fall back on. It was all up to him. And if he continued to slip up, Thomas would hate him as well. The snake man might take him away, just like he took away Remus.

It was getting harder and harder, though. Harder to keep that innocence, that purity. That wasn't who Roman was. Morality wanted him to be like that, and Thomas expected him to be like that, but he wasn't. So he put up an act. He pretended to be all good and pure and innocent. He pretended to be the hero. Pretended to take down the villains, all of Thomas' demons. The villains being Remus, and Anxiety, and the snake man who took each of them away, who'd take Roman away as well if he acted more like... more like himself.

God. Maybe Janus was right. Roman was just like Remus, wasn't he? Roman was horrible, and dirty, and wasn't trying to protect Thomas at all - he was trying to protect himself.

It made sense. He'd constantly bullied Virgil - something that, at the time, he thought was right, because Virgil was the villain, but then he wasn't the villain anymore, and all of a sudden Roman had been in the wrong. He'd made a mistake - he couldn't make mistakes, that wasn't him, if he made mistakes he was just as bad as his brother.

"Hey, hey, calm down," a voice said besides him. Roman glanced around. This- This wasn't his room. It was too dark. And cold. And-

An arm wrapped around his shoulder. He glanced at the person besides him - Virgil. Oh. And Roman was crying again, of course he was. Perfect. Just perfect.

"What happened, Princey?" Virgil asked, seemingly alarmed.

Roman didn't want to say, but he couldn't escape this any longer, could he? "Am... Am I like Remus?"

Virgil frowned. "What?"

"I am," Roman decided for himself. "I'm exactly like Remus. Otherwise Thomas wouldn't hate me right now."

Virgil shook his head in shock. "Uh, Roman. You're nothing like Remus. You know that, right?"

"I... don't know that, actually." Roman tore himself away from Virgil's grasp. "I hurt you, just like how Remus had hurt Thomas, so... I'm basically the same as him. Just like Janus said."

Virgil blinked. "...Janus?" he repeated, and then, under his breath, "Who the fuck is Janus?"

"You hate me, Virgil, right?" Roman said.

"I, uh- no?"

"You do," Roman said, standing up and moving away from Virgil's bed. "Why wouldn't you, after all the shit I put you through?"

Virgil stood up as well, stepping towards Roman. "Uh, Roman, buddy, I don't think you're being fair to yourself here. I don't hate you. I mean, yeah, it kinda sucked when you were, y'know, treating me like a villain and stuff, but-"

"You don't have to lie to me, Virgil!" Roman shouted, to which Virgil visibly flinched. Oh. Oh no. He was doing it again, wasn't he?

Feeling the tears beginning to fall out again, Roman clicked his fingers once more, this time landing in his room. It was empty, thank God. He walked up to his door, locked it, and sank down to the floor, holding his knees. Maybe if he just stayed here, everything would be okay. Thomas could continue without him - heck, maybe Remus could take over.

Because... Remus was better than Roman, wasn't he? Remus only acting up because he wanted to be listened to. Roman acted up because he wanted control, and he hurt other people intentionally, innocent people who only wanted the best for Thomas.

Thomas was better without him. Roman was no hero.

Janus was right. Roman had to be the evil twin. Which meant it was his time to step down. Let the real heroes take charge.

#ts spoilers #sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman angst #angst #my writing #my fanfic

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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years

Text

tiktok famous (hc) - part two | p.p.

summary: a whole bunch of dif tiktoks featuring you and bae peter

warnings: chaotic energy, cussing, and BUTTERFLIES

+ + +

- i'm backkkkkkkkk

- so y'all really enjoyed the last tiktok imagine

- and you wanted another

- SO HERE WE GO BABYYYYYYYYY!!

- so basically....

- (just enjoy it)

- i got a lot of tiktok related comments and requests and i hope i remember them all

- (big boobs? whew chile) ANYWAYS SO:

- like pretty much none of them link together so this hc is going to be split into sections of like... blurbs!!

- yayayayayaya

- this one is inspired by @drecming

- so i think most of us know this very special sound..

- ...

- CAN'T TAKE BIG DICK BUT I SUCK ON IT

- y eah

- so as per usual

- you and peter b chillin

- they really do b vibin doe

- OH BY THE WAY

- y'all are dating in this situation :)))))))))

- and as you're binge watching your favorite show you can't stop doing the hand motions to that friggin dance

- aka the epidemic of generation z

- i keep doing the sugar by brockhampton dance i literally can't stop it's fine

- and thank god peter somehow doesn't notice

- like your movements are so subtle but you deadass keep doing it like once per minute

- and so you get up

- like "fuck this, man. if it's stuck in my head i'm at least gonna make a tiktok"

- and so you set it up

- peter's still on the couch in the background

- this boy STILL doesn't really notice what you're doing

- to be fair hsmtmts is a very enticing show ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

- but as soon as the audio plays peter recognizes it

- his head WHIPS over to you

can't take big dick but i suck on it

- he raises an eyebrow at you

i ain't fucking with the pussy, got a bump on it

- *eyebrow raise intensifies*

bad bitch put the pussy on me (on me)

- he sits up, watching as your hips roll (oh man)

whip out my dick then i hump on it

- he slightly cringes at the lyrics me too peter

i'm a bad ass bitch, what you lookin at?

- your butt

ima throw that-

- "oH NO YOU DON'T!" he yells, slight smile on his face as he swiftly shoots a web at you, the string wrapping around your waist and spinning you to him

- the song continues to play as you snort, wheezing as he balances you

- the video finishes and you raise your eyebrows at him

- "no throwing it back on camera," he says pointedly

- you tilt your head in a way that screams peter i love you but you and i both know that i can do what i wanna do and over-protectiveness can be toxic

- he sighs

- "okay, you can, but i'd like it better if it were just for me"

...

- HAHAHAHA

- okay NEXT ONE

- this next one is inspired by @ritxal

- in this one you can choose your relationship

- so peter is a natural born softboy

- he didn't choose the softboy life, the softboy life chose him

- but here's the thing

- it was friday night

- you were bored

- and you decided

- it was time for a change

- and so you approached the man

- who happened to be upside down

- because when is he not

- and, ignoring his protests, gave him an e-boy makeover

- poor peter was decked the fuck out

- striped long sleeve

- band tee

- black ripped jeans wITH THE CHAIN

- nike socks and af1s

- beanie

- and most importantly

- black nails and a little black heart under his left eye

- just picture it p lease

- and it his transformation was posted on your account to forever embarrass him

- and you lowkey found this look a lil wee bit ATTRACTIVE

- whatever

- okey this one's for you @lilmissquackson !!!!!!!

- y'all ever seen the without me (halsey) ones??

- ye

- even if you haven't you'll still get it lol

- so you're in class

- learning about sokovia because history and shit

- and, bored as hecc, you decide to whip out your phone and copy this video you'd seen

- you begin filming and place your right hand on top of peter's left (yay classmates!! sitting next to each other WHOOP!)

- his gaze is hard on his paper as he continues to scribble down notes

- you turn the camera to him for a bit and you're like yes perfect

- and then you return the camera and pull your hand away

- and he REACHES OVER AND TAKES YOUR HAND BACK

- AND YOU'RE LIKE Y E S

- IT WORKED OUT

- PLUS HE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW AND HE'S SO CUTE

- you put the phone down, smiling, adjusting your hand a little before you realize you can't take notes anymore because your hand is occupied and using your left hand just aint it period (a/n: im so sorry if any of y'all are left handed lol but pretend y'all are in opposite positions so he has your left hand haha)

- and it's then that he looks at you

- and if his eyes don't make you MELT

- okay i'm sorry that last one was mediocre but you get the point

- alright so like in this process of writing this i've been struggling a bit with details and stuff and making it sound good and funny so they're gonna be short and sweet bc i literally don't know What To Do :)))))))))))))))))

- back to your regularly scheduled programming hell yeah

- this one's for you, @drecming

- back at it again with the ideas!!!! fuck yes!!!

- okay SO

- you seen those "i'm on my savage shit" ones?

- where the guys hand is on the girl's thigh (OR IF YOU'RE A DUDE READING THIS JUST STILL IMAGINE YOUR OWN LEG I TRY TO KEEP THIS GENDER NEUTRAL BUT I FORGET AND PLUS RN IM JUST EXPLAINING THE TIKTOK KJSDBVIBUV) and then she pulls her leg away and the music is like

iM oN mY sAvAgE sHiT

- anyways

- peter's hand is just vibing on your leg

- for you dirty minded folks no it's not vibrating or doing all that janky shit we're children of god here

- says the one who just said the s word OOPS

- and you, as per usual, pull up the sound and start recording

- peter hears the music and is like Huh????

- and then you pull your leg away, grinning at him cheekily before he grabs you, phone flying out of your hand and he pulls you into his lap

"my thigh"

- you give him a look like excuse me sir hUh

- and his face is just like

0_0

- before he smiles at you and laughs and says he's kidding

- but then he stops laughing

...

- and raises an eyebrow

- WOAHHHHHHHH SPICY

- zooooweeeeemamaaaaaaa

- aight moving on

- THE NEXT ONES ARE INSPIRED BY YOURS TRULY!! YAY ME FOR HAVING IDEAS FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE!!!!

- so i'm sure you and like everyone @ your school (if you're in school.. lol) is familiar with this one

- i'm just gonna let y'all experience it idk why i've been telling the tiktok before idek sajbsidvb

- so you're in class right

- doing nothing bc your teacher sucks :////

- but its fine bc it's a fun class

- so you set up your phone with you and peter in the screen and start recording

- peter looks at the phone and then you, confused

"hey, stop!" you say in a whiny voice

- mans is like Uhhhhh what did i Do

"stop! omg peter sTop!" you're smiling at him

- he's so confused

- and then as you're talking

- your voice suddenly lowers into your lower register

"stop!! peter stop it- I SAID STOP."

- his eyes widen and a confused smile is on his face as he jumps back slightly

"YOU KEEP PLAYING *smacks your hand on the table* TOO DAMN MUCH."

- the video stops and you and peter are just silent for a second before busting out laughing

"you've never seen those?"

"no????"

"god peter, you live under a rock"

- the duck walked up to the lemonade stand and he said to the man running the stand: hey! bonk bonk bonk got any grapes?

- sorry i randomly thought of that

- okay NEXT

- this is the one that hits different

- gets you in your FEELS

- DAMN

- we all know peter's a gamerboy

- so he's just chilling playing minecraft on the xbox or something

- what a fuckin nerd

- jk minecraft slaps so hard

- anyways

- as per usual, you set up the camera and start filming

- and you

- i think you know what i'm talkin about

- you slip underneath his arms

- and start crawling into his lap

- and the SECOND he registers what's going on he fucking YEETS the controller behind him and wraps his arms around you

- and when i say yeets

- i mean like

- ZOOM

- you bury your arm in the crook of his neck and you feel him physically relax under you (heartbeat racing though of course) and hold you tighter, planting gentle kisses along your neck and shoulder

- ..

- god FUCK talk about B U T T E R F L I E S

- y'all are going to HATE ME for this one

- prepare yourselves

- so you guys are just chilling in peters room as y'all normally do

- and peter goes to the bathroom

- and like stupid adorable fuck he is

- mans left his phone on silly goose

- and of course

- we all know you can't help yourself

- so like a NORMAL HUMAN BEING

- you decide to snatch it and go look at his tiktok drafts, god knows why

- and the first one you tap

- WHEW CHILE

- your jaw drops to the floor as soon as you read the text on the video

"so apparently when a guy's chain dangles it's attractive..?"

- heart skips a beat

- hands are sweaty

- knees spaghetti

- you look up to make sure the bathroom door is still shut before you whip out your phone and start videoing

- peter is looking nervously cute into the camera before he leans out of shot,

- you know what's next

- and right as the beat drops

- he shows up, SHIRTLESS, with his cross necklace (you've only seen him wear once lmao) dangling down

- not to mention the goddamn CURLS hanging down

- and your heartbeat quickens

- ... both heartbeats...

- then fucking PETER JUST STROLLS INTO THE ROOM

- ALL INNOCENT N SHIT AS IF HE DIDN'T HAVE A VIDEO ON HIS PHONE THAT LITERALLY MADE YOU READY TO RISK IT ALL

- "why do you have my phone?"

- you've never slammed it onto the bed so fast

- "no reason"

- he raises a suspicious eyebrow before picking up his phone and unlocking it

- and the fear in his eyes when the screen opens to his video

- he looks back up at you, mouth slightly open in fear/awe/ohshitohgodohFUCK

- and you and your goddamn mouth-

- "peter, it's hot"

- and oh how the look in his eyes changed

😈

+ + +

until next time <3

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

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pftones3482 · 6 years

Text

Cravings

Commission for @yriafehtivan, who is absolutely wonderful and I love writing things for them. Kind of a follow up to the last one I did for them, but you don’t need to read that to understand this. Just know that Annabeth is pregnant.

Spoiler alert: since I’m following canon, and since the latest TOA book just dropped...there will be minor (and major) spoilers. If you haven’t read it and don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read ahead.

Under a cut for both length and spoilers. Ft. PJO characters I think even Rick has forgotten about.

Six Weeks

It was two in the morning, and Annabeth really, really wanted those cookies that they had at the bakery in New Rome. Little dollops of peanut butter cookies with chocolate chips in the middle and maybe just a massive amount of whipped cream slathered on top.

Yeah. That was it.

"Hey. Hey Percy."

She poked his shoulder repeatedly until he groaned and nuzzled his face further into his pillow. "Percy, I want cookies."

"There are Oreos in the cupboard," he grumbled into the fabric.

"Noooo," she whined, well aware that she was being irritating. "I want good cookies!"

"Annabeth it's-" a pause as he squinted at the bedside clock- "two in the morning. Nothing is open."

"New Rome is."

"That's on the other side of the country, babe."

"Just text Hazel. Or Frank. Or Reyna. Pleeeeeaaassssse?"

"What do you propose they do, send it over through an Iris message?"

Annabeth frowned, running a hand over her chin. "Is that a thing? That should be a thing."

"It's not, and there's no way you're getting those cookies tonight. I'm sorry, hon."

Annabeth huffed and flopped back on the pillow, rolling onto her side. Percy inched up behind her, slinging an arm around her hip and letting his fingers drift over her stomach. "They're acting up, huh?"

She snorted and leaned back into his warmth, letting her eyes shut. "That's an understatement. This baby is going to have a sweet tooth."

3 Months

"What do you mean, you're not finding out the gender?" Hazel demanded, eyes flashing as she put away the plate she had been holding. She was visiting for the week, running inventory at one of her jewelry stores in the city. "I'd think you and Percy would definitely want to know!"

"Yeah," Leo mumbled from somewhere under the sink, where he was examining their leaky pipes. He popped his head back out, curly hair sprinkled with dust. "You're a hard ass, but you're a mushy hard ass who wants everything to be perfect."

He squawked as Annabeth threw a sponge at him, thwapping him soundly in the face. She smirked. "There's just...there's been a lot going on lately. A lot has happened in our lives in general," she said, smile slipping as she stared at the floor. "We don't really care, you know? It's not a priority."

A gentle hand settled on her lower back and she looked up at Hazel, who had somehow gotten taller than her as the years went on. Not by much, but enough that she had to tilt her chin to look her in the eyes. Thank gods she was still taller than Piper. "I'm sure they'll be beautiful."

Leo popped up next to them and tossed the sponge in the sink, sliding his wrench back into his tool belt. His grin had softened into something warmer. "Totally. You and Percy...man, if y'all were poly-"

Hazel shoved him, but there was a cheeky smile on her face. "Shut up, Leo. Do you guys have names in mind yet?" she asked, eyeing Annabeth's slowly growing belly. The doctor had told her that she wouldn't start showing seriously until almost three and a half months in, but either the placebo effect was kicking in and she was seeing things that weren't there, or the doctor was wrong, because she already had a small bump.

Annabeth hummed. "A few. People we've lost. Friends."

She lifted her gaze to the ceiling, taking a shaky breath. Hazel and Leo eyed one another, smiles fully gone now, and then Leo settled a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "Hey. I know."

She turned into him, loving the fact that he had only grown a tiny bit taller than her since they were teenagers and that meant that she could bury her nose into his shoulder. Percy would be home soon, but she desperately needed a hug in that moment.

Hazel's hand stroked up and down her back and Leo's fingers twisted through her hair soothingly. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple and Annabeth sniffled, pulling back and swiping at her eyes.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just...really emotional."

Leo managed to crack a smile. "No shit."

"And I'm...really craving baked beans, for some reason."

Hazel burst into giggles, her hand still rubbing Annabeth's back. Leo moved to rummage through his tool belt, smirk alighting on his face as he triumphantly pulled a can of beans out of his belt. His eyes glittered with tears, but the smile on his lips was light. "Lucky for you, this has pretty much become a staple of mine over the years. Too much camping."

"You, Leo Valdez, are a god."

"Not yet."

Four and a Half Months

"So this is the first official ultrasound you've done?" Grover asked, his knee jiggling nervously as he sat next to Annabeth in the waiting room. He had offered to come along with her when Percy had been scheduled over her appointment. No matter how nice his boss was, Valentine's day was weirdly one of the busiest days of the year at the aquarium, and he couldn't afford to take off. Luckily, it also meant that the doctor's office was reasonably quiet.

She nodded, shooting him a glare. "Yes, it is. And I swear to Zeus, Grover, if you can somehow smell the gender of the baby, and you slip up, or if you see the gender on the papers and you slip up, I will be making satyr stew."

"Right, right, yes, of course, no telling you the genders of the-"

He snapped his mouth shut, slapping both hands over it, and Annabeth frowned, brain twisting around his words for a moment. "Did...you said genders."

Grover bleated weakly, earning a few weird looks from other patients, and Annabeth's heart froze. "Genders plural. As in-?"

"Annabeth?"

She whipped around to stare at Will, who was leaning in the doorway with a manila envelope in his hands and a grin on his face. Her feet moved of their own volition, carrying her through the door and back into his office. "I have good news for you," he declared as she and Grover settled into the chairs.

"I'm having twins."

Will huffed and shot a look at Grover. "Way to spoil the news, man. Yes. You're having two very healthy babies that I will not be telling you the sexes of for fear that you may maim me with Grover's horns."

"Thank you," Grover grumbled.

They both glanced at Annabeth, who had pressed her hands to her cheeks. "A?" Will said carefully. "You good?"

Her fingers drifted to her lips and she let out a shaky sob. Grover bolted to her side, hands falling on her shoulders. "You okay?" he asked, eyes frantically searching her face.

"Twins," she breathed. She looked up at Will, who had a knowing sparkle in his eyes, and let out a shaky laugh. "I'm having...how the hell am I going to tell Percy?"

Will's small smile turned into a smirk and he shot her a set of finger-guns like the true bisexual he was. "Leave that to your asshole friends."

"Hon, I'm home! You will not BELIEVE what Nelly Sterling did in the dolphin- what's going on?"

Percy stood, befuddled in the middle of his dining room, watching as Will slammed an Ace of Hearts onto the deck of cards in the center of the table. "HA! Suck it, losers, I just kicked all your asses!"

"Fuck you," Nico growled, throwing his cards aimlessly into the pile.

Piper, Leo, Hazel, and Frank followed suit. Grover didn't, only because he was munching forlornly on his supposedly bad hand, and Rachel just sighed and folded her cards neatly into a deck in front of her. Annabeth studied her cards intently for a moment, like she was trying to somehow prove that she was going to win still, and then sighed and flung her remaining cards in Will's face before looking up at Percy and smiling. "Hi hon. Just playing cards with everyone."

Percy lifted an eyebrow. "O...kay? You guys came all the way from California to play cards?" he directed at Hazel and Frank.

They grinned, not answering, and Annabeth took a breath. "Babe, I-"

"Don't tell me the gender. No. Nope."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, glancing around at their friend group. "As if. You know I didn't want to know the genders."

"I know, but it sounded like you might have found out and I...why is everyone grinning?"

"He did fail sixth grade English," Grover noted, still munching on a 2 of Diamonds.

Percy flipped him off. "I failed math and science too, what's your-?"

He stopped, eyebrows furrowing, and turned his gaze back to Annabeth slowly. She and Will were grinning and slowly the wheels in his head started turning. "You...with an s?"

"With an s."

"Holy Hera."

With that, Percy passed out, crumbling to the floor. Will darted to his side instantly, checking his head, while the rest of the table cracked up. Annabeth chuckled. "He okay, Solace?"

Will looked up with a laugh. "Yeah, he'll be fine. Damn, wasn't expecting that."

"Clearly he wasn't either," Nico deadpanned.

Six Months

"Annabeth."

"Mmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Eating a burger."

"It's seven in the morning."

"I know, I just wanted one."

Percy hesitated, fingers flexing on the back of the dining room chair as he pondered his next sentence. "Sweetheart?"

"Yes?"

"Your burger has horseradish all over it."

"Yes."

"And your fries are covered in it."

"What's your point?" Annabeth demanded, shooting her husband a glare.

He wasn't touching that one, nope. Percy held up his hands. "Just...maybe get a napkin?"

"Will do. Have fun at the career day thing!

Percy waved weakly and stepped back into the living room, where Paul was waiting for him with an amused grin. "Weird, huh?" the man said in a low voice, tossing Percy his jacket. "Sometimes your mother still asks me for pickles in mayo just to mess with my head. But Estelle hates both those things."

"Annabeth doesn't even LIKE horseradish!"

Eight Months

They were in the middle of watching Cutthroat Kitchen when Annabeth sat straight up and settled a hand on her stomach. "Percy."

"Mmm?"

"Percy, my water broke."

Percy was off the couch in a flash, flying to the bedroom to grab their go-bag. Piper, who had been staying with them for the last few days while she interviewed in positions around the city, jumped off the floor and ran to the closet, grabbing shoes and keys and hers and Annabeth's purses. She helped Annabeth off the couch as Percy came running back around the corner, cell phone pressed to his ear and duffel bag flung over his shoulder. He was wearing flip flops and cargo shorts, which Annabeth would be sure to tease him about later.

For now, though, she slipped her own feet into her shoes and leaned on Piper as she led her to the door while Percy bustled around the house, turning off the TV and lights and double checking the stove.

"Yes, Mom," he was saying into the receiver as they clambered out of the house and towards the car. "Yes I know, they're a month early. We'll meet you at the hospital. Will said he'd be on call like this whole month for us, so- yes. Okay. See you guys there. No, tell Estelle she can come after summer gym tomorrow. I'll send her pictures. Can you call Mr. Chase, too? Thanks."

He threw his phone into the backseat and tossed the duffle after it, sliding into the driver's seat while Piper helped Annabeth into the back and slid in with her. The moment they were both buckled, he turned the Prius on and zoomed towards the hospital.

"Babe, you can slow down," Annabeth managed. "I'm not having them this second."

Percy managed a laugh and he slowed down to at least ten over the speed limit. "With our luck? Not taking any chances."

"He's got a point," Piper muttered.

Annabeth frowned. "Okay...fair."

He sped up again.

Piper was pacing the corridor when Leo, Rachel, and Nico came barreling into the waiting room. It was almost two am, and they were all in states of half dress. "How is she?" Rachel demanded as she hugged the woman.

"Doing okay. Will is saying any minute now. He gave her a little bit of ambrosia to help the pain."

Nico frowned. "Will that effect the babies?"

"Doubtful, since both their parents are powerful demigods. Sally is already inside, Paul is grabbing everyone coffee. Mr. Chase is on his way, but his plane probably won't land until later today."

Leo grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Hazel, Thalia, and Frank will be here as soon as they can. I called Chiron and let him know, too. He told me to keep the camp posted. I couldn't get a hold of Grover. Probably out in the woods somewhere with no cell service, but with his and Percy's empathy link, he'll probably know."

Nico was watching her with calculating, sad eyes. "Are you going to be okay?"

Piper almost scoffed. "Me? I'm not the one giving birth to two babies."

Leo was giving her the same look now, albeit softer. "No. But it's July 1st."

"So? It's..."

"Jason's birthday," Nico finished, shooting his gaze to the shut doors that led to Annabeth.

Piper shook her head, taking a shaky breath. "I'll be fine. We'll all be fine. The babies will be amazing, and here comes Paul with the coffee. Hi Paul."

Paul gave her a small smile and handed her a steaming cup. He had a tray of cups in the other hand, and he pushed that into Nico's grasp. "Wasn't sure what you all drank, so I just got a bunch of sugar and creamer to put in as you please."

He turned back to Piper and nodded at the door. "Any word?"

"Nothing yet," she said, taking a swig. "Will said-"

A ragged cry shut everyone up and they all turned to the doors.

Jason Charles and Bianca Grace Jackson-Chase were born at 7 pounds, six ounces, and 8 pounds, 4 ounces, respectively. Jason had his mother's stormy gray eyes and the soft tufts of black hair on his head suggested it would match Percy's. Meanwhile, Bianca had the opposite situation, with her father's piercing green irises and blonde hair that was barely visible on the top of her head. Their noses had the same peaks and upturned features, but otherwise they could not look more different.

Will wrapped Bianca in a tiny golden blanket that had the symbols of each of the cabins woven onto it, and Jason in a silver one with the same emblems, both courtesy of the Athena cabin. Both blankets had been blessed by the Apollo and Hypnos cabin, to provide a soothing sleep to the infants. They took to them immediately. Annabeth was exhausted, so she opted to let Sally cradle Jason while Percy took Bianca, a soft finger already caressing her cheek.

She would be a daddy's girl, Will could already tell.

He poked his head out of the room, eyeing all of his friends with a weary smile. "Two at a time. Family first. Paul, that means you. Piper, you too."

She looked up, wide eyed, and glanced at the others. Frank, Hazel, and Thalia had all arrived in the time since Sally had come out and told them the names of the babies. Thalia had started crying, and Piper wasn't far behind her. Nico had even gone a little teary eyed, his face flushed. Will wanted nothing more than to gather him up, but he had a job to do.

"Me?" she said in surprise. "If anything, Frank is probably closest related to Percy. Or Thalia or Nico."

"Yeah, but Annabeth wanted you to come in first. No offense."

"Nah, we get it," Rachel said sincerely. She patted Piper and pushed her gently towards the room, and the woman stood up and walked in alongside Paul.

Percy looked up at them, smile wide, and nodded his head at his mother. Sally moved around the bed and settled Jason carefully into the crook of Piper's arms while Percy handed Paul Bianca.

Piper almost started crying again, her throat aching as she traced the features of the baby with her eyes. He was sleeping soundly, and she was almost glad that he looked so much like Percy. If he had had Annabeth's hair...

Percy's hand settled on her upper back, thumb stroking gently. "Love you, Pipes."

She sniffled and leaned into his shoulder, still cradling the baby to her chest. She glanced up to find Annabeth watching them and gave a small smile. "Proud of you two," she said, voice low so as not to interrupt Sally and Paul, who were cooing over Bianca (who was very much awake and bewildered by the attention, blessed blanket be damned).

Annabeth beckoned them over and they complied, Piper handing Jason back to Percy and then threading her fingers through Annabeth's. "What's up?"

"We wanted to ask...and we're going to ask Grover and Thalia, too, but we wanted to ask you first...if you'd want to be their godmother?"

The tears spilled over again and she whipped around to look at Percy, who was grinning at her and running his thumb absently along Jason's fingers. "You're serious?"

"Well, you're only supposed to have one godparent," Percy mused. "But seeing as one of them is a Lord of the Wild and the other one is a Lieutenant of Artemis, we thought it best to have a bunch. Of course, everyone in that waiting room and Chiron is going to be an emergency contact, and if they have powers..."

He trailed off, seeming to realize that he had been rambling, and shrugged. "But yes, to answer your question. We're serious."

"Of course," Piper breathed. "It would...be more than an honor."

"Are we too late?"

Percy glanced up from the cradles where Bianca and Jason were sleeping and sucked in a breath at the sight of not only Poseidon but Athena as well standing, human sized, thank gods, in the room. Poseidon was wearing his usual, Bermuda shorts and sandals and a Hawaiian shirt, and Athena was in a t-shirt and jeans, but they gave off a regal air that Percy hadn't felt in a while. He was amazed he didn't combust on the spot.

"Not at all," he managed, gesturing them over.

"Odd," Poseidon mused, "that they don't stay with their mother."

"It's to monitor them," Athena and Percy chorused. He flushed at her raised eyebrow and ducked his head. She let him finish. "And so that Annabeth can sleep. That's...what she's doing now. I can go wake her up if-"

"Let her sleep," Athena assured him, leaning over the cradle of Bianca and giving a small smile as the baby yawned. Percy wasn't sure he had ever seen such a soft look on her face. It made her appear almost human.

"They're powerful, you know," Poseidon warned him.

Percy winced. "Grover said pretty much the same thing when he got here. Is it because we were in the seven?"

"Not only that," Athena said, straightening and looking to him. "You were the original prophecy. For Kronos. And then both of you fell to the prophecy of the seven. You bore the curse of Achilles. Annabeth defeated Arachne, no small task. You are two of the most powerful demi-gods I've seen since...perhaps even Hercules. Combined..."

She shook her head and Percy swallowed, suddenly very nervous. Poseidon clapped him on the shoulder. "What she means to say, since she has no delicate filter-"

"Why should I?"

"What she MEANS, is that yes, it is in part because of the prophecies. But you are both capable adults. Smart. Strong, mentally and physically. You have friends everywhere who would give themselves up for you in an instant."

Percy's eyes stung and he looked at the infants, wrapping both arms around himself. "I know."

"A prophecy, if I could?"

They looked up to find Rachel leaning in the doorway with Apollo, who had a gentle smile on his face. Percy was almost relieved to see him. Since his bout as a human, he had become much kinder, more down to Earth. "As long as it doesn't involve death, please."

"No death," the sun god promised. He crossed the room and eyed the children, his grin warm (no pun intended). "Not even really a prophecy. Just a prediction. They will be well loved, but you know this already. Well loved, and protected, and you don't need to worry about them. Except Jason will have a hard time learning how to ride a bike. Work on that."

Percy managed a laugh and he shook his head. "Thank you. All of you, for coming. I appreciate it. I'm sure Annabeth would too, if she was awake."

"Of course, son," Poseidon said. He squeezed Percy's shoulder. "Expect gifts when you get home."

He walked out normally, most likely so as not to kill all the babies in the room, and then Athena nodded to him. "From myself as well. Though it may not be what you expect. You and my daughter..." She eyed him for a moment, and then gave him a genuine smile. "You've done well."

She walked out as well, leaving only Apollo and Rachel, the latter of whom was leaning over the babies and telling them soft stories about Cerberus. Percy looked to Apollo. "You meant all that?"

Apollo smiled, sliding a pair of sunglasses on that Percy found redundant in a few ways. "Of course. You'll do well, Percy. Stop worrying."

"Kind of a habit, at this point."

"Trust me, I know."

"So they're healthy?" Jason asked.

Nico nodded, tracing his toe along the ground and glancing up at the one-way Iris message showing the babies. It was against the rules, and he'd probably be scalped if his father found him here, but he couldn't not come. "Yeah. They're both doing incredible."

Beckendorf crossed his arms over his chest, eyes glittering. "How come Grace over here got the first name on the one AND the middle on the other? I only got the middle name."

Jason snorted and smacked Beckendorf on the shoulder playfully. They had gotten close since he had shown up in Elysium, the larger man reminding him a lot of a weird combination of Leo and Piper. Silena was sweet too, more similar to Hazel than anyone. "I'm just cooler, admit it."

Nico grinned and swiped through the message, glancing behind him. "I have to go. I couldn't bribe the guard for more than twenty minutes. I don't know when the next time..."

He trailed off, smile falling, and Jason gave him a sad look, reaching out and settling his hand just over his shoulder. "Hey. It's cool. Tell them congrats from us, okay? That we love them."

Nico swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I will. Thanks."

"Clarisse, no," Annabeth said firmly. "Appreciate it, but no way. I'm not giving babies knives as a present."

Clarisse rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, they wouldn't actually use them! Not until they can hold like, forks and shit, anyway. It's for protection!"

Percy shook his head and looked to Leo, who was helping him set up the bassinets for his and Annabeth's room. "Need help there?"

"Do you know how to put together a joint Celestial bronze and Imperial gold basket complete with a monster-proof security shield?" Leo asked without even looking up.

"Uh...no?"

The young mechanic glanced up and grinned. "Then I think I'm good. Thanks, though. Go see if Frank and your mom need help in the kitchen."

Percy snorted. "And burn the house down? I'll pass."

He found an empty spot in the garden outback, overflowing with new flowers from the Demeter cabin and Demeter herself. For a moment, Percy let himself breathe.

"Congratulations."

He jumped a good foot, spinning on the intruder, and froze. "Hestia."

The goddess smiled, mischief glinting in her fiery eyes, and held out a wrapped parcel. "This is for you. Your family. I appreciate what you have done for me."

"I haven't-"

"My name has been spoken more now, because of you. What you have done. I am more powerful, more present in the universe. The hearth and the home has become much more important to people because you stopped to trust me and my presence. Thank you, Percy Jackson."

She vanished in a burst of warmth and Percy shut his eyes quickly, opening them only when the cool evening air was the only thing brushing his skin. He turned over the brown package in his hands, wondering, and then pulled off the twine and let the paper fall away.

Had he not known what Hestia's sense of humor was like, he might have thrown the object across the yard. As it was, he still winced a little, but turned the almost perfect replica of Pandora's jar in his hand, eyeing it.

The only difference was that at the top, around the rim, danced intricate carvings of owls and tridents, each glowing a different hue of grey and blue. He pulled open the top out of pure curiosity and reached in, pulling out a piece of paper that had been folded up a few times.

Unfolding it, he found the word "Peace" written on it in swirling gold letters. On the next, "Prosperity." Love. Joy. Serenity. Patience.

Pandora's box, but instead of the evils of the world, she had given him a list of the joys he was sure he would need and want in the future. He looked back at the house, through the window at his wife, who was now cradling Bianca and talking to Grover, who was cooing something at Jason. He smiled and turned back to the gift.

At the bottom of the jar, Hestia had left him hope.

#pjo #percy jackson #trials of apollo #heroes of olympus #my writing #writing commissions #toa #hoo

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fallleaves4life-blog · 6 years

Text

First Reality

Yoongi didn't have a day off for the next month, only being granted one by a single cancellation and transferring the rest of his appointments to another escort. He would trade owing Jihoon a day off to talk with Hoseok about what was happening. Whatever was happening.

Hoseok has agreed to meet him wherever, so he chose his favorite cafe. Just a simple one that was small and cozy, not one too popular. He liked the atmosphere and the coffee, and the owners liked him. It was always close to the office, so he found in the last few weeks that it was the perfect place for a break.

He was sipping his first macchiato when Hoseok arrived. Yoongi looked up when a cacophony of jingle bells signaled his entrance. The other sat beside him with a smile after ordering a chocolate vanilla frappe. "Ready to talk?"

Yoongi let out a nervous breath before he gave a nod, his hands fidgeting on the table. "That night... I barely remember the details of what happened." A hand closed over his own, and his eyes caught the gleaming silver band. Somehow, it gave him the strength to continue speaking. "I remember.. realizing something, like a big moment where my chest felt like it.. relaxed completely, but... I also remember it not, so would you.. tell me what you got out of that experience?" He offered the faintest smile he could remember mustering, his heart hammering when the other returned the upturned lips.

"You told me how I made you feel, and how it made you so confused. We talked briefly about the future, but you kept saying you couldn't think of any way to be happy." He caught himself and laughed a little, taking a sip from his frappe. "Well, basically that's what I got."

Yoongi played with the ring on Hoseok's finger, the metal burning hot. "I mean.. I can't think of a way where I won't be losing everything. If I quit my job, I'll have nothing. Yeah, I know I have plenty of money from working all these years, but I was never good at keeping track of it, so I don't know how long it will last." He sighed, Hoseok's hand lacing his fingers between his own. "And... I don't want to rely on you. I can't provide for myself, so I'll only be a burden. And then, when the relationship fails- even though I hope it doesn't- I won't have anything to go back to. I'll.. be alone."

He wiped his eyes before anything could fall and drained the rest of his macchiato, the burn distracting him. "I'm sorry, Hoseok. I wish I could think of a way for everything to work out with a plan B and C and D and everything, but I've never had to do anything like this before. I basically graduated high school and started being an escort the next day. Maybe not exactly like that but kinda." He knew he was rambling, a gentle hand on his cheek stopping him.

Hoseok's eyes bore into his own the same way that used to intimidate him. But now, after having looked at those eyes for all these months, he knew that look meant he was being honest and real. The thought made his stomach twist. "Yoongi, I promise that this relationship we have will never end. I don't care if I have to help you a little, but I'm going to help you get on your feet and be the independent person your personality calls for." The elder gave a shy smile, and to him, that was a success. "But that is so far in the future, we don't have to care about that right now, okay?" He waited until he received a nod to continue. "The goal now is for you to figure out your job situation. Okay?"

Yoongi smiled and kissed the hand that remained on his cheek, grateful for the support or he would've broken down. "Okay." He paused before slowly putting his hand over the other's. "Thank you. For everything. It doesn't seem like much has really happened, but I thank you all the same."

The other smiled and caressed his cheek, his fingertips ghosting over his skin. "It's all your decision, Yoongi. I'll be behind you every step of the way."

Fluttering erupted inside his chest at the words. He reached out and held Hoseok's hands in his tightly, his nose sniffling. He knew it wouldn't be much longer before he started crying, but he tried to hold on to his composure a little longer. "I think... I think I want to quit." The other's encouraging smile brought one to his face. "I.. I'm so tired of being so busy and having sex all the time." He looked out of the corner of his eye, nervous someone could overhear the conversation. "I just want.. freedom. To be with you. And to be.. happy."

Hoseok touched his chin softly, the contact raising his eyes to meet the younger's. "Do you want me to be there with you?"

Yoongi shook his head uncertainly, his hair, now needing a trim as it hung over the tops of his ears, flapping around his face with the movement. "I think I should do it alone. I'll go talk to the boss after this." He paused and tightened his grip on the other's hand, the hand squeezing back. "I'm not gonna lie, Hoseok, I'm really scared to. I hope he won't do anything. He shouldn't as long as he doesn't know about you." The words trailed off as memories whizzed through his mind; when he was punished last time, Minki's comfort afterward, Jun's face when he talked about what happened, his words...

The image of Minghao holding him in the snow flitted behind his closed eyelids, the care with which he held his lover. The way Hoseok talked to him after his own experience. He looked at the man across from him uncertainly. "Hoseok.. promise me you'll be there for me after everything... if something goes wrong."

Hoseok held his hand in his so firmly he thought he may break down right then. "Yoongi. I promise I'll always be there. Always. I swear." The elder felt something hot on his left cheek, and he gave a small choked sound. Hoseok's thumb wiped the tear away gently and held his hands tightly. "You're not alone in this, Yoongi."

He nodded to the other, thankful despite his red eyes. "Not anymore."

"You're quitting?"

Yoongi nodded to the boss, standing with his hands clasped loosely in front of him. Just an hour after departing with Hoseok, he stood in the office where he'd almost been raped. The desk in front of him still looked as unnerving as before, but he tried to keep himself in the right mind. "I'm quitting. I've really enjoyed working here these past years, Mr. Jeon. But I'm afraid I'm growing tired of the work. I'll be leaving, effective immediately."

The boss sat in his chair, looking over the paper Yoongi placed on his desk. The letter of resignation he'd so carefully thought out. "Growing tired of the work, huh?" He dropped the paper onto the desk and looked at the other, dark eyes intimidating. "Or is something else persuading you to leave? Or should I say someone."

Ice went through Yoongi's veins, but he bit his lip and kept his composure. "This decision is completely my own, Mr. Jeon. I feel more bored and more exhausted recently than I have in my entire career. It was honestly a lot of fun, but now I want to step away."

The boss nodded, eyes noting every movement Yoongi made. It made his skin crawl. "Very well. Take your leave and be out of my building in ten minutes max."

The silence that followed felt like a dismissal, but it was unnerving. "That's all?" Yoongi raised an eyebrow unsurely, disbelieving the causality of the man across from him, a man who raped two of his friends and (almost) himself.

But the other only nodded his head, opening something on his computer that he couldn't see. "Well, you're not my employee anymore. It's not like I can punish you or anything for falling for a client anymore. I'm not so uncivilized as to do that now. It'd actually be a crime then, wouldn't it?"

The smirk on his face as he spoke made his stomach twist, and he left the office feeling like he needed to hit something.

It'd actually be a crime then, wouldn't it?

As if their employment under him made what happened any less rape. Yoongi's face burned with anger as he walked through the building to the photo studio where Minki was waiting for him.

"He's such a fucking prick. I would've strangled him if I wasn't so terrified." He sunk into the empty makeup chair in front of the other's station, head in his hands. The anger buzzed inside of him, but the floating tension and fear left him feeling deflated and wanting to cry.

He felt Minki sit in the chair beside his own, and a cold hand touched his flaming skin. "At least he didn't do anything to you. That's lucky, Gi."

Yoongi's looked to his side and met the other's sad eyes, his chest convulsing. "I would have rather he did over what he said."

The blonde's face turned stern immediately. "You don't mean that, Yoongi. The man is a monster."

The elder nodded and stood up, his body not cooperating with his mind. "I do mean it, Minki. The man that sits up in that office deserves to burn in his own designated pit in Hell for what he's done. And I'm so fucking happy he can't hurt me anymore. Now all that's left is for you and Jun to abandon this sick ass company."

Minki's eyes widened as he stood to face him. "Me, leave? I can't do that as easily as you did."

"Does this look easy for me, Minki? Really? Cause it doesn't feel it." He exhales shakily and checked his phone, a text from Hoseok lighting up the screen. "I wouldn't be able to do this if he wasn't in my corner, Minki. And Jonghyun is in yours." He licked his lips and looked away, nerves exploding within his abdomen. "We're gonna leave, Min. And I don't want to leave y'all behind." He ignored the surprised look on the other's face as he continued. "I still don't know where yet, but we're leaving. Together. And I'm still so terrified of this whole relationship thing." The word rolled off his tongue thickly, but once it was out, it felt easier to breathe.

He smiled at the other in goodbye and walked out of the room. Hoseok was waiting outside for him, his car parked off the side of the street. The other looked so nervous and scared for him, it made Yoongi smile despite everything he felt dancing in his body. The younger saw him and waved, a relieved smile on his face.

Yoongi's walked up to him and accepted the arms around his waist, wrapping his own around the other's neck. The warmth the other gave off had the elder burrowing closer and away from the cold winter winds of the February day. Hoseok tried to pull away, probably to open the car door and allow Yoongi the warmth inside, but he held him tighter to prohibit the movements. "Let's just... stay like this. Just a minute longer. Please."

Hoseok's arms tightened around him and he lent down to the other's neck, the warm breath fanning the skin reminding Yoongi of home. "As long as you need, Yoongi."

The winds were harsh against the two of them, threatening constantly to blow them over, but Hoseok's sturdy frame held them up. He was thankful for the warmth and the protection the other was giving him. He gave a soft kiss to the man's neck to signal he was ready, and they broke apart.

Hoseok held his face between his warm hands, a honey-dipped heart smile facing him. "What next?"

Yoongi smiled as best he could in the cold, and he realized something standing there with the other's beautiful smile directed towards him. All his anger, his fear, his uncertainty, it was gone. It was gone, melted away by Hoseok's embrace in the freezing day. All he could feel, staring into the gorgeous eyes of his lover, was overwhelming happiness, hope, and love. He felt as if he had shed some old skin and sprouted anew.

Suddenly, he couldn't wait to start this new life with Hoseok. Sure, he was still terrified of what would happen if things did end badly between them. But now he felt as if that didn't matter. Am I drugged? He didn't care. All that mattered was Hoseok in front of him today, tomorrow, and forever.

He lifted the necklace out of his shirt and removed the ring from the chain, slipping the cold metal band around his ring finger. Yoongi smiled widely, not caring if the cold made his cheeks crack. He placed his hands on Hoseok's cold ones, the metal of their rings clinking softly in his ear. "Anything. Everything. Wherever you want to go, I'll go."

He leaned forward and kissed Hoseok's surprised smile, allowing himself to melt into and revel in the happiness the other gave him. The way the other man looked at him made him wonder why he'd ever doubted the eruptions in his chest when Hoseok smiled at him, the airplanes in his stomach when Hoseok touched his skin, or the intense dizziness when Hoseok took care of him after sex.

Maybe the future wouldn't be so scary to think about anymore.

#bts sope #bts suga #bts jhope #bts fanfction #bts fic #bts #min yoongi #yoonseok #yoongi #jun #jung hoseok #jr #ren #nu’est #choi minki #EscortBoyAU #sope au #sope #sope fic #sope fanfiction

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