Requested by Anon: How about a reader insert where Logan always drops the reader off at work, noticing a flirty worker who is always there when he picks her up. He grows jealous and a bit insecure as time goes on because he isn’t in his prime anymore. That doesn’t stop him from threatening said co-worker and denying it ever happened when she asks him about it one night.
Key: y/c/n- Your Coworkers Name
Tag List: Please inform me if you’d like to be tagged!
Appearances mattered a lot to people. That was the only reason you could ever imagine your Young Woo being known as Monster Woo. If people saw him the way you did then they wouldn’t call him that at all. You lay on your side of the bed in silence, only a sliver of your eyes opened to see the display before you.
(A/N); Hello people of the universe! I know I’ve been gone for the longest time 7 months?? and I have many excuses on that, anyway, I recently finished another year of high school which means I have a little bit of time throughout summer break for me to write, yay! Anyhow, hope you enjoy this first actual part of Too Much, I don’t know how many part this series is going to have. Please give me feedback if you wanna, and make some requests! Sorry if you find any mistakes, I only proofread this once, whoops.
Disclaimers; So, I changed the story up while writing. In the intro, the reader didn’t know about Peter being Spider-Man but in this first actual part, they do. I changed it because my original plot was so similar to some stories out there already and I don’t want to repeat it again. I hope you’d love to see a a different angle of this story with a different perspective! I’ll link the intro down below.
Warnings; Lil’ bit of angst, lil’ bits of fluff, lil’ bits of my crap writing because it’s been so long.
Word Count; 1583
Too Much (Intro)(with a little change of story but you can read it to get the idea)
‘Can you just tell me if you’re not gonna show up?’
'I’m sorry, babe’
'Yeah… me too’
You and Peter were supposed to have your 10 month anniversary
but guess what, Peter bailed again. Yeah, of course, he has his Spider-Man
duties to fulfilled but sometimes, it’s just a little too much.
(The sexuality of your relationship with Jungkook continues to get more intense while you both struggle a little on how to make things work.)
Warning: smut, cunnilingus, face-sitting, public sex, intercourse, explicit as always
With Jungkook working out of town for a couple of days, you
were able to focus more on your own job without distraction. Or at least with fewer distractions. Before you both parted ways at your
apartment, Jungkook told you teasingly that every time he got horny he would
text you to let you know he was thinking of you. You hadn’t been apart more than 30 minutes
before you got the first text.
Thinking of you right
You had learned from almost getting caught the previous day
that you needed to keep you phone on silent and to change Jungkook’s name to “Some
Guy” in your contact list. You really didn’t feel like you could trust Jungkook to tone it down in his texts, but you would do the best you could to keep it from being noticeable.
most of the day focused on planning all the looks for the boys’ appearances in
Thailand next week. It was fun to
finally have some limited control over the entire process from fashion to hair
and makeup. You had been so focused on
your work that you didn’t even realize until you arrived home late that night
that you hadn’t checked the messages on your phone all day. When you finally looked, you saw messages
from the blind date guy making suggestions for your second date.
Summary: Just as the moon had her scars and imperfections, so did she. And he loved every bit of it. To him, she was the moon that shone brightest in these rare moments. The moon who’s light had been dimmed. To her, he was the sun that would eventually, light her up in every way. Only she hadn’t accepted it yet. She hadn’t yet accepted the light slowly growing inside her chest, but it wouldn’t be long until she did.
“If you can love the wrong one so much, just imagine how much you can love the right one.”
A/N: I don’t even know how to start this note lol. It has been too long since I posted chapter 1 and I apologize greatly for not posting this sooner. I had the worst writer’s block! I would like to thank my lovely secret admirer Vernon anon for giving me that little spark of inspiration that I needed. A huge, enormous thank you to my @kaviea ! You are the best! This would be nothing without your help. Thank you! Once again, forgive me for not posting sooner, so here’s basically a double chapter for y’all. I hope you enjoy!
By the time she got up to her apartment the morning light had already crept into her living room. The light shone through her window, making her realize she’d forgotten to pull down her blinds.
She kicked off her boots and hung her coat by the door, making her way into the bathroom. A warm shower was exactly what she needed right now.
Her makeup needed to be washed off first. Applying makeup was something she’d do every weekend, and sometimes she really hated the trouble that went with it. She mostly hated having to look into the mirror in order to remove it and seeing a bleary-eyed reflection of herself. She was tired of washing off the same unyielding eyeshadow and mascara over and over again. Although taking the makeup off was a pain, it wasn’t as hard as applying it, and it was worth it, as the makeup did make her feel prettier. But it was still something that she’d rather not do routinely.
Eventually, she got out of the shower, put on her PJs and walked over to the window to roll down her blinds. Taking a look outside, she saw Vernon. He still sat at the bus stop, wearing his red cap and rubbing his bare hands together frantically.
She opened the window and called out to him, “Hey! What are you still doing there? The bus should’ve come and gone a while ago.”
He looked around, shrugged and was about to reply when she noticed how he was shivering. Decided, she beckoned a couple of times for him to get up and told him to make his way across the road.
The first sounds he heard were sound he couldn’t recognize. It was mumble of many noises, but he could hear the rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds. Alexander slowly regained consciousness and immediately felt cold and dizzy. He cautiously opened his eyes and saw trees. The ground beneath him felt wet and dirty. He sat up and immediately felt his head spin.
“Agh…” He groaned and put his hand on his forehead. As he looked around, he assumed he was dreaming. He saw buildings that rose up towards the sky, strange constructions moving at amazing speeds and people who were scantly clad, wearing clothes with bright colors. Yeah, this had to be a dream. But something felt off.
The ground felt too real, his headache felt too real, the scents and noises felt too real, everything felt too real. It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt real.
Alexander shakily stood up while trying to remember what happened right before he passed out. He couldn’t really remember anything, the only thing he could remember was an old woman who’d grabbed him while he was walking through town, but that was it.
As he started walking, he got a large amount of strange looks shot at him. People looked at him like he was insane and, to be honest, he felt the same way about them. Everyone looked insane. Most of them held strange looking things, they looked like flat black bricks. They confused him deeply.
He had no idea what time it was, but he knew that it must be around the afternoon, since the sun looked like it was close to setting in the west. The ground beneath him was made of some black material. He could see a few trees next to the roads but not many. The people around him were walking by him quickly, many of them shoving him while trying to get past him. Alexander was utterly confused. It wasn’t a dream, so what was this?
Alexander had been walking for hours now, going back and forth on these massive streets and trying to talk with someone. He tried to ask them where he was, how to get back to where he lived, anything. But no one answered.
He was walking on the street with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest when he saw one of the machines whizz by him and right into a large puddle, causing him to get drenched in muddy water. He wasn’t just cold now, he was also very wet AND cold. He almost felt like breaking down right then and there. He still had no idea where he was, how he got there and how to get back. Was this Hell? Had he died?
There were thousands of people around him but he’d never felt this isolated before in his life.
Alexander stopped walking and looked around. The sun was going down and lights around the city were turning on in some magical way. Surely someone would notice his distress and help him.
“Hello? Please, could you help me?”
“Please, I don’t know where I am!” He exclaimed. A few people were looking at him but none were helping him. He put his face in his hands. His eyes were starting to well up and he was beginning to think about throwing himself in front of one of the machines moving by him.
“Sir are you alright?”
Alexander whipped his head up at lightning speed. In front of him stood what looked like an angel to him. It was a young woman wearing a black jacket whose material looked otherworldly to him. She looked slightly worried and was looking at him with caution. But the thing that he was thinking about the most was that she noticed him.
“Thank heavens yes, please, I have no idea where I am!”
“You’re in Times Square.” She said calmly.
“In Manhattan. New York City?” A weary smile painted her face.
He laughed at her words. “New York City? I don’t mean to be rude miss but you must be lying, this can not be New York!”
“Sorry to burst your bubble but it is.” She replied. He shook his head, then a burst of cold wind blew past him and he shuddered.
“You have to get inside.” The woman said. “Do you know where you live?”
He of course knew where it was usually, but now he didn’t know for sure so he shook his head.
She bit her lip and ran her fingers through her hair.
“Okay, you hungry?”
He nodded. She looked him up and down, looking at him suspiciously and worriedly.
“If you are wondering if I’ll harm you, miss, then I want you to know that I am not going to harm you. You seem like a good person, I really just want to get back home.” Alexander said to her and he meant every single word of it. She frowned for a few seconds.
“Alright, come with me.” She said and started to walk away from him. He stayed put for a few moments until she turned around towards him.
“You comin’!?” She shouted at him and he quickly ran after the woman, the person who might get him home to where he belonged. Home.
It’s been three weeks since your date with Scott and his way-too-early marriage proposal. Since then, he’s been sending you emails like usual, but they were more intense poems and him just straight out explaining how much he loved you and what your future was going to be like with him. He wanted two children, a condo in Florida, and you could be a stay-at-home mom while we worked. You were flattered but also creeped out by these emails. You deleted the creepy ones and saved the normal poems. You assumed that maybe Scott was very antisocial and didn’t know how to properly date someone.
Then, the phone calls started.
At first, they were only during the day, one or two at a time. You’d answer and the only answer would be heavy breathing before the caller would hang up. You were creeped out and a little scared but nothing too terrifying. Slowly, the calls got more often, resulting in you getting about four a day and instead of heavy breathing, it was Scott’s voice, singing all your favorite songs for about a minute and then stopping, hanging up. You were confused and a little creeped out. How did Scott get your number? Did Ally give him it? You had called Ally and asked, her answer making your blood run cold.
You met the love and the ultimate demise of your life at the Winters Ball, like everyone else. Only, the peculiar case was that he was never your suitor, your courter, or your husband. No. That liberty was taken away from the both of you.
Dances, especially in large and unnecessarily frilly gowns, were not your thing. You were idly sipping your glass of champagne in the corner, trying not to vomit from the taste. At the meek age of 16, alcohol had not yet become something you could enjoy. You haphazardly looked at the twirling colors that radiated from the other women’s gowns, when an unexpected tap on the shoulder took you from your spell.
“Hello Miss. I couldn’t help but notice that you look rather unsatisfied with your current position. Care to dance?” The boy with curly hair and a devilish smirk offered his hand to you.
“Well, Sir. Your assumptions aren’t wrong. I would love a dance. Anything to take this awful taste out of my mouth, really.” You roughly set down your glass and took his hand. He led you to the center of the ball room, which oddly enough was the least crowded.
“I take it you aren’t much for champagne, then.” He pulled you close, to the point where your chests were touching.
“Well, not exactly. Fermented beverages haven’t quite piqued my interest quite yet. I do, however, enjoy a good fruit juice.” He smiled and shook his head at your silly comment.
“Fruit juice? A classy drink for a classy lady.” He added his playboy smile into that mixture of words. If it hadn’t been for his comforting aura, you would have been a flustered mess.
“Your words are charming good Sir. For all this flattery, I would certainly like a name to place to it.” He spun you elegantly before bringing your face within an inch of his.
“I’ll tell you my name, but only my first. I would ask that you do the same. I find that it attaches personality rather than wealth to a person.” He raised his eyebrows as to challenge you.
“As you wish. My name is Y/n.”
“Mine is Phillip. It’s a pleasure.”
You danced a total of four songs, then he led you off the dance floor.
“Would you care to walk with me in the gardens?” He held your hands to his chest.
“I couldn’t refuse such a gentlemanly invitation.” His eyes lit up and he led you to the courtyard. The moon was a mere crescent, yet it still shone its silver light upon the roses. He kept walking until you hit the edge of the lake.
“It’s a beautiful night. You know, Miss Y/n, it’s at times like this where I cannot resist my flirtatiousness. Though the stars shine bright and the moon dwindles valiantly, your eyes are far brighter that both combined.” He kissed your palm as you cupped his cheek.
“You certainly are quite the charmer. I’m pleased that you asked me to dance tonight.” Your cheeks were bright red.
“I hate to be to forward, but may I write to you?” His hands were tracing shapes on your hips.
“I would love that.”
“Y/n? Y/n? Who are you writing all the time?” Your brother, George, was pestering you again. He was always curious to who this mysterious Phillip was.
“You know who I’m writing, George. Now please, do you need something?” You turned in your chair and sealed the letter you had in hand.
“Actually, I was wondering if you want to go to the theatre with me tonight.” He played with the ruffles in his cravat.
“Alright. I have nothing planned, and Lord knows I haven’t gotten to spend any recent quality time with my sweet Georgey,” you cooed. He rolled his eyes and made his way out the door.
“Be ready by 4, oh sister of mine.”
The theatre it was then.
The theatre was packed, but it was a Friday night. You adorned yourself in a lilac dress to match George’s coat. It was a warmer night, and the breeze made it even more pleasant.
The show was very pleasant, until the end. The actors were taking there final bow, when the theatre doors swung open. You quickly turned around with the rest of the crowd, only to be met with the face of someone you’d least expect.
Phillip, your love.
His eyes searched the crowd and he stormed over to your brother, who was in front of the hoard of people.
“Eacker! I heard you were talking bad about my pops. You have something to say to me?” In all the times you had met up with Phillip, you had never seen him this enraged. But then again, your love was secret; never to be shown in public.
“Yeah, so what. Everything I said is true. Your dad is a lying, cheating, radical whore. I feel so bad for your poor mother.” You were appalled at your brothers words. Was this the same person?
“Eacker, if anything you’re the liar! I’ll kick your ass in front of everyone here!” Phillip was seething. You just wanted to go and comfort him.
“Whatever you say, Philly dearest. You couldn’t even fight a child and come out on top.” Your brother was acting so pompous, and it was making you feel ill.
“Duel me.” The room went still.
“You’re on.” You couldn’t speak. Tears were streaming down your face. Phillip walked out, and you quietly slipped away after him. He was quickly making his way down the street. He was hunched over and looked smaller than usual.
“Phillip,” you said weakly, your throat feeling like nails. By a grace to powerful to name, he heard you. He turned around, hard faced. He looked at you for roughly half a second before rushing towards you.
“Oh, my love. Please tell me you didn’t see that…” he buried his face in your hair. You clung tightly to him.
“….. you challenged him to a duel…” you choked out. You were tugging in your mind on who to side with. George. Phillip. George. Phillip.
“My sweet, I will make it out. I cannot promise, but my love for you will take me beyond the chains of death.” He rocked you back and forth under the oil street lamp.
“Phillip, I have to tell you something.” You pulled away.
“Yes, Y/n?” He cupped your cheek.
“The man you challenged to a duel is my brother.” An ear splitting silence spread between you. His face looked heartbroken.
“Y/n, I cannot sacrifice my honor. If you are asking me to back out I-” you stopped him.
“No. That’s not what I’m asking. I have a feeling on who your family is. Hamilton, if I’m not mistaken. I know you Philly. You talk about them a lot, and you hold them above your own life. You’re not going to back out. Just, give me tonight.” You closed your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder, listening to his rapid heartbeat. He pulled you away and looked in to your eyes. They held hope, love, but most of all, desire.
“Let’s live tonight like it’s our last.” He took your hand and led you down several streets, only to stop at a two story house. It was bigger than most, yet still modest. He opened to door quietly. Wait, this was his house. You quickly trotted up the stairs and down to the last room in the hall. He opened the door and closed it directly behind you.
You turned around, grabbed his collar, and smashed your lips to his. He immediately responded by picking you up and pinning you against the wall. He moved to pepper hot kisses down your neck, and reached for the first button on your dress. He stopped and rested his hand there.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He looked at you, concerned.
“Yes.” He immediately unbuttoned your dress quickly. This was going to be one heck of a night.
You woke up in Phillip’s bed with no one beside you. Instant dread hit the very essence of your being. There was a note on the pillow, and you knew who it was from. It said:
“My dearest Y/n,
Words cannot express how in love with you I am. Your smile, your laugh, your mind, your body. All of it is simply indescribable. Even if I die today, know that I died happy. You have provided me with light in a world of darkness. Thank you for being my flame.
It was short and heartbreaking. It was already past dawn, so you dressed and rushed out of the room. When you got to the bottom of the stairs, you were met with Mr. And Mrs. Hamilton. They looked shock, but saw the letter you were holding. Eliza started sobbing and hugged you. You hugged her back but gave Mr. Hamilton a pleading stare. Eliza let go and rushed upstairs. Mr. Hamilton took your hands.
“I suppose you’re his lovely Y/n. I’m afraid he’s….. g-gone m-y d-dear.” He turned away his gaze, but still held your hands. You were crying, but no sound was being made.
“Y/n, he wanted me to give you this.” Mr. Hamilton pulled out a simple silver band. You stared at it for a few seconds before breaking down.
He wanted to marry you. He loved you. He would always be with you.
You put the ring on and collapsed into Mr. Hamilton’s arms and wept. You could hear his muffled sobs as well. You only stopped when Mrs. Hamilton came down, ignoring her husband, and took you to the kitchen for tea.
Can I request a fluffy Pietro one? Maybe she’s a spy not necessarily an avenger and every day she gets a gift but doesn’t know it’s from him
Again, sorry for the long wait. But here it is, finally. Enjoy!
word count: 2232 (I’m sorry. I got carried away)
“You know, when you asked me to babysit you, I didn’t necessarily think it was to cover your ass so you wouldn’t get killed,” Natasha threw her body against the abandoned car, ducking behind it for cover as she shot down a member.
“Well,” you cocked a brow as you aimed at the street lamp that was illuminating the area a little too well. “You should’ve known since that’s apparently all you complain about whenever I’m out with you,” you pulled the trigger on the gun as the bulb exploded loudly, causing the street to dark.
happy, happy birthday,caroline. thank you for being one of the most wondeful, kind, caring people i have ever met. you deserve all the bright things in the world. i can’t imagine life without you. thank you for being my constant source of inspiration and happiness. i love you to the moon and back.
She has sunshine running through her veins.
She drums her nails on the table in the Great Hall, eyes foggy with sleep, slumping against Remus or nicking his toast. She meets his remarks with even more droll ripostes of her own, smirking and propping her chin on her hand. The mornings are bright and leaden, like wading through honey, and she’s content to lazily drape an arm across his shoulders as they head to Charms. She swears under her breath in the library, levitates ten textbooks at once because Sirius said she couldn’t, and pockets sweets from Peter. He smiles a lot when she’s around, mostly because she beat Remus at Gobstones or because her hair is like the couch in the Common Room or because she scrunches up her nose when she thinks. He smiles a lot when she’s around, because it’s her.
He holds his heart between his teeth during class because she’s sitting in front of him, and his eyes map the slender, lively outline of her face, a bright silhouette. Sirius licks his finger and sticks in in James’s ear, and it’s so absurd and unexpected and unjust because he was busy counting the freckles on her nose, and he falls out of his chair from shock. Remus laughs, but at least Pete has the good grace to look apologetic, and Sirius smirks at James, his lips forming the terse remark, ‘You’ve got it bad, Potter.’ He hears another laugh, her laugh, soft and musical and floating high on the air in the musty classroom. It sedates the fact that he’s pissed off, but not enough, because as soon as he’s in his seat he punches Sirius on the arm.
The warmest days are piss-weak, a feeble attempt at Summer, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Long-limbed and sprawling, she’s a vision in red, dancing across the lawns. Her fingers nimbly thread daisies like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Marlene’s legs are the best jaunt for her fiery tendrils to take root, her head against knees and hands deftly accusing the clouds in the sky of being animals, flowers, and what she claims is the shape of his ass. Their motley crew fumbles over one another for words, a cacophony of voices that tangle through the skies. He never tires of the sound her, though, the slant and tilt, squealing strings pulled taught, low, winking expressions, teasing, bitten grins. He likes listening to her talk, and her thrumming, high beat sets a track that makes everything feel like home.
Liquor burns hard in his veins, thrumming blood and harsh lines and something unshakeable which must be the trickle of her touch across his skin. She’s drunk, a little sloppy and unfiltered, dancing through the heat of the Common Room, challenging Sirius to a karaoke duel. Her hair is as deep as the brash crimson cloaking the room, strings of rubies dancing, waving across her forehead. Legs nimbly jumping up onto the table, her voice roars in his hears, and Sirius leaps up to join her. The room is vibrant, and he revels in the energy, but his eyes are glued to her. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from thinking about how much he likes her, the fact that she’s etched in the dirt under his fingernails, the scar on his left elbow, the breath that curls in his lungs. She’s written all over him, and he has no desire to wash her off.
The world is a wash of white, but she sticks out, reddening and intense. Her hair is dotted with sleet, and she laughs, breath misting on the chill air, catching snowflakes on her tongue. The skeletal fronds of trees dance overhead, and her gloved hands are spread wide as she shrieks, ‘Come on, Potter!’. His arms feel heavy, ladden with bags, and he has every desire to abandon them and go join her. She races Peter through the snow, boots crunching on ice, and Sirius coaxes her into the Three Broomsticks. If she catches him staring at her over the Butterbeer flanking the table, she doesn’t saying anything, just licks the foam from her lips, pink and bitten from the cold, fuck - but Sirius kicks his shin under the table and Lily claps the excess snow from her gloves over his head, and it melts all down his neck. She demands that he give her a piggyback up to the castle, and shoves all their luggage into Sirius’s arms. When her legs are wrapped around his waist, her hot breath against his neck, he wonders how long he can keep this up, pretend that they’re just fucking fantastic friends. He can’t. He doesn’t want to.
They lie in the dark and talk about nothing, toes curled and fingers spread, mapping the stars. Something that hurts seeps in through his veins when he looks at her, eyes wide and looking at the ceiling. At some point, her hand, tentative yet entirely sure, reaches for his, and his heart thrums frantically against his chest. He chokes on the words, and his breath hitches in his throat, because he likes her, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. She whispers about how she’s not sure know what do anymore, about Celestina Warbeck, romance novels and the new paint set Mary got her, about how her sister used to be her sister. He whispers back, about the Quidditch final, about the sweets he smuggled from Honeydukes, all the articles in the Prophet, Sirius’s records and how Remus splintered the bedpost in the Shrieking Shack, about how he’s worried. He raises her knuckles to his lips and kisses the freckle on her fourth finger. She shifts against him, and digresses, a rasp that disappears into the darkness above them, that she thinks she might like him. He almost laughs, because he’s so hopelessly and undeniably fucked, before he looses a breath and says, ‘Yeah, I think I like you, too.’
The summer is spent with a delivery of letters, spidery ink ordering out expletives, several unsealed envelopes and dates and names. Whenever they see each other, something scintillating is a rife in the air between them, and he slowly becomes aware that he’s been holding her gaze for too long. Sirius says something about sexual tension, but, for whatever reason, he doesn’t hear him. The lot of them spend long, sun-lit days in the cobbled expanse of Diagon Alley, hands sticky with ice-cream or ladden with books or grasping a bottle of Odgen’s. The streets roll forth to admit their riots, long nights spent smoking or talking or trying and failing to fall asleep. He looks at her, and she’s alight during those months, a mixture of dresses and freckled shoulders and hair adrift. It makes his heart ache.
She kisses him in the dorm, which is a clutter of dented pillows and ragged duvets. Moonlight spills in through the window, cloaking them both as he drags his hands through her hair and her eyelashes tickle his skin. She tastes like mint chapstick and sunshine, and her lips press against his like she needs him to breathe. He could care less about his fucking glasses, which he’s pretty sure are knocked askew, but he just takes her lower lip between both of his and she sighs against him as his hands ensconce the width of her back. Their noses bump and her hands curl through his hair and she’s pressing into him and then the door opens and about a million miles away he hears Sirius shout, ‘It’s happening! Pete, you owe me 20 galleons!’. James waves a hand and Lily smiles against his lips and the door slams and they continue for several minutes until they pull back, mussed hair and heaving chests and dazed eyes. She looks at him, beautiful and out of breath and completely ethereal, and says, ‘Go out with me, Potter?’. He kisses her this time, and his fingers inch across her waist and he laughs against her and says, ‘Evans, I thought you’d never ask.’
Prompt: You and Jimin go on that date you agreed to. Second part of Bright Smiles x
A/N: So i have been planning on doing a second part ever since i wrote the first one, but s/o to http://yyiikes.tumblr.com/ for the positive feedback and for requesting for a second part which gave me even more motivation. I might make this a longer series if that’s something any of you want so yeah!
warnings: Pink haired Jimin is my religion
To say Jimin was nervous was an understatement. He had been pacing back and forth on the street next to yours for the last 20 minutes, trying to find the courage to actually walk up to your house. Today was Saturday, the day after he had asked you out on a date. Was it even a date? He had technically asked if you wanted to hang, so does that mean you guys are only hanging out as friends or……
Joe reaches out blindly, wanting the shrill noises of his alarm to shut up so he could go back to sleep. Yet he can’t find his phone, and is thus forced to open his eyes, blinking into the dark room as he looks around for it.
And as his sleep ridden mind begins to wake up, he realizes that it wasn’t his alarm, that or he’s changed it.
Maybe Y/N used it… He thinks to himself as his eyes land on the glowing square resting half under a blanket down the bed. As he pulls it towards himself, he frowns, noticing that it’s actually a phone call, from an unknown number.
Wondering why someone would be calling him so early in the morning, Joe fumbles to answer it before it disappears.
“Hello?” He runs a hand through his hair, his mind only imagining what it looks like. Knowing he has to get up anyways, he has an early flight to catch, he swings his legs over the edge of his bed.
“Hello. Is this Joseph Sugg?” A crisp, formal voice carries through to him.
“Speaking.” Joe replies, stumbling over to his bathroom. He squints at the brightness of the light, regretting turning it on.
“Hello. This is Constable Allen.” Joe freezes at that, fear rooting him to the spot. “I’m at The Royal London Hospital.”
“We brought in a young woman, who has been identified as a Y/N Y/L/N, and you were listed under her emergency contacts.” Joe feels as if his world was falling from under him, and he grips the counter next to him tightly, willing himself to breath, to listen to what the man on the phone was saying. “There was an accident. She has gone into surgery, so I’m unable to tell you more information, but if you come down to the hospital, the nurses and doctor will be able to reveal more.”
“Is she—” Joe breaks off for a moment, “Is she alive?”
“When she went in, yes. I’m very sorry to wake you up with this news…”
“No. Thank you. Thank you for calling.” Joe stutters over his words, saying a quick goodbye before he hangs up. He can feel the hardness of the floor as his knees hit it, but it doesn’t register in his brain as he wraps his arms around his waist, bent over and gasping for air.
A minute later though, he shakes his head and forces himself back onto his feet, into the bedroom where he throws some clothes on.
After he orders a car, he grabs his keys and jacket, calling Oli as he rushes down the stairs.
“Heeey! You calling to tell us you’re coming out anyways?!” Oli’s voice greets him, the sound of the club and the other boys almost overtaking his words.
“Y/N’s in the hospital.”
“There was an accident. I’m on my way. I don’t know what happened.”
“Shit. Right. Which one?”
“We’ll meet you there.” Oli tells him, and Joe wipes at his eyes quickly, trying to clear the tears that are pooling there. “Hey, Joe.”
“What?” He’s half listening, his eyes darting back and forth on the street, waiting for the headlights of his car to appear.
“She’ll be okay.”
“I really hope you’re right, Oli.” Joe mumbles, saying goodbye as his car pulls up.
“I’m sorry.” The doctor tells Joe, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Right now, all we can do is wait.”
“She’s going to be okay though?” Joe’s voice is small, and he feels like a child. The boys are all sitting on the other side of the waiting room, waiting for Joe to finish speaking with the doctor so he can tell them what’s going on.
“At this point, to be honest, we aren’t sure. She attained some intense injuries during the crash, it’s a matter of if her body and mind are strong enough to pull through. We are doing everything we can to ensure she is comfortable, and doing our best to help her, but there is little that can be done at this point.”
“Can I see her?”
“I’ll have a nurse come grab you in a while. They are just transferring her to a room now. Again, I’m sorry. Is there anyone we can call? For her or you?”
Joe shakes his head, closing his eyes briefly for a moment. “No, uhm, it’s fine. I’ll manage. Thank you.”
The doctor nods before he turns and walks back through the doors, down into the hallway of patients. Joe takes a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stares at the door, before he finally forces himself to turn and cross the room, back to the waiting boys.
“Well?” Oli encourages after Joe has sunk into a seat.
“They aren’t sure.”
“Aren’t sure of what?” Caspar asks, worry laced through his tone.
“If she’ll—” Joe closes his eyes, letting his head fall back, the words sticking in his throat. “If she’ll make it.”
“Shit.” Josh breathes out, and a heavy silence falls across their group.
No one speaks, not even when a nurse comes out to grab Joe. She tells the others that they can come in small groups after, and the nod, but Joe remains silent as he follows her through the doors and down the hall, every step bringing him closer and closer to Y/N’s room.
“She’s just in there. Feel free to go in whenever.” The nurse offers him a kind smile before she leaves him standing in front of the door.
Joe almost breaks down again, and he hasn’t even seen her yet. But that’s what pushes him forward, forces him to lift a hand to the handle, turning it and opening the door.
When he steps in, the door clicking shut quietly behind him, the world falls from around him again. Because the love of his life is laying on the bed in front of him, but it isn’t the Y/N he knows.
The woman he knows should be smiling and laughing, teasing him for being an old man because he had opted out of going out with them that night. All because he had an early flight. He had told her to still go out, go have fun with the boys. He wasn’t worried, she could take care of herself, and the boys would look after her as well.
But now, now she lay on the bed in front of him, wires and tubes running from her body to various machines. An oxygen mask was placed over her mouth, rasping as it pushed air into her lungs. There was bruises and bandages across her exposed skin, and her skin was pale.
It was not the woman he loved.
Joe’s eyes move to the machine that are monitoring her heart beat, watching the line rise and fall steadily. But its weak, even he can tell that.
He knows he’s crying, he can faintly feel the wetness on his cheeks, but he ignores it as he forces himself to move forward, one foot in front of the other, until he’s by her side. Reaching out a hand, Joe takes Y/N’s cold one in his, giving it a squeeze.
“Love, I’m here. Missed my flight, though. Typical, huh?” He lets out a wet laugh, falling into the chair beside her bed, his grip tightening on her hand. “Y/N, I love you. And I know you can do this. I know you can make it through this.”
And as his eyes drift back to the heart monitor, he watches as the peaks get further apart. His breath catches as his eyes widen, the flat line drawing out, a piercing noise filling the room.
Suddenly, there is bodies in the room surrounding her. Gentle hands are tugging at him, and Joe tries to resist, he calls out to Y/N, willing her to open her eyes. But soon there is too many bodies around her to see, and he’s pulled out of the room.
And all he can see is the door to her room closing in front of him.
The boy behind the cash register jotted down the last item
in Roy’s bag. His pen slashed through a sum line, and he scribbled in the total
price at the bottom of the paper. “That’s 215 cenz, please.”
Roy shifted his groceries to one hand and dug through his
pocket for the 1000 cenz piece he’d stashed there earlier. The cashier took it
with a slight grimace. He eyed Roy’s purchases and flipped the coin between his
fingers. “Do you have anything smaller? I don’t have a lot of change here.”
“Allow me,” a voice, fast beside Roy’s ear answered. Roy
startled, and stepped back as a new hand swung around. A military sleeve fell
to its wrist, and the newcomer dropped 215 cenz on the counter.
Roy didn’t see the money though. He felt his groceries slip
in his grasp, as if suddenly weightless. Something dense pulsed through his
veins, something ringing in his ears, as he traced the hand back and turned to
face the man who’d paid for his groceries.
Thin glasses, square jaw, gentle green eyes, tousled black
hair. The man smiled. “As far as I remember, I owe you a few hundred cenz from
our bets in Ishval. Never paid you for that. So let’s call this even.”
His voice, yes definitely his voice. And that loose smile,
and the openness behind his eyes. Roy’s bag dropped from his hands. It hit his
shoe and upturned, a few tomatoes rolling across the wood flooring.
“Hughes?” and he hardly heard his own voice whisper it.
Author’s Note: Okay, so have you guys readhawthornewhisperer’samazing King Roan x Raven Reyes fic, Watch The Queen Conquer? You probably have, because it’s causing quite a stir. And if you haven’t stop what you’re doing, no seriously, don’t even read this fic. GO READ THAT ONE. It’s something of a work of art. Anyway, that got me thinking about how badly I need these two to be together & they haven’t even met yet. So I had to write about it. Consider this a writing exercise..because I haven’t truly written for either of these two in a main character setting. I’m not crazy impressed with it, but the King Raven/Ice Mechanic fic section needs to grow. Sooo, consider this my lame contribution.
P.S. - the tense does change from present to past a couple of times during the beginning due to some backstory. Terribly sorry if it gets confusing. Hope you enjoy!
Pairings: King Roan x Raven Reyes, slight mention of Minty & Bellarke (because I can’t leave my OTPs out of anything) Rating: Explicit
Snow falls quietly through the night air and she watches as the city below — the place she now calls home — begins to be covered in a fresh layer. A layer to add to the multitude of inches they’ve already received this week alone. She remembers when she first got to earth; the first time she saw snow. Their childlike excitement had soon turned to despair when they realized they had little defense (or true knowledge) against the cold, the illnesses, or the treacherous winds. And they weren’t even in Azgeda. That first snow would have been nothing more than a mild autumn day here.
She pauses in her slow walk when she notices several children below, tossing snowballs back and forth in the streets. The thick glass between her and them mutes their laughter, but their smiles are all she needs to see to imagine the ring their giggles make in the cold air. Joy. The sight triggers her memories and her thoughts begin to run away with her.
For a long time she wasn’t sure the universe possessed such an emotion anymore; at least not one that was meant to last for any length of time. That had always been her experience — if she felt the illusive feeling it was soon followed with a sucker punch of disappointment and anguish.