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bustycats · 1 month ago

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Miami Car Accident Lawyer — Get Legal Help Today

When it comes to navigating the legal complexities after a car crash, hiring the right car accident lawyer Miami or car accident lawyer Fort Lauderdale Florida can make a significant difference in your case. Car accidents are unfortunate events that can leave victims physically, emotionally, and financially strained. In bustling cities like Miami and Fort Lauderdale, the likelihood of being involved in a car accident is higher due to heavy traffic, tourist activity, and urban congestion.

This comprehensive guide will help you understand why hiring a Miami car accident lawyer or a Miami car accident attorney is essential, what to look for in a legal representative, and how these professionals can support you through the recovery process.

Understanding Car Accidents in Miami and Fort Lauderdale

Both Miami and Fort Lauderdale are hubs of activity, known for their vibrant culture, tourism, and high population density. This makes traffic accidents unfortunately common. According to the Florida Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles, Miami-Dade and Broward Counties consistently rank among the highest in the state for car accidents.

Factors contributing to this include:

High traffic volumes

Distracted driving

Drunk driving

Speeding

Poor road conditions

Victims often deal with more than just physical injuries. Medical bills, vehicle repairs, and lost wages can be overwhelming. This is where a qualified car accident lawyer Miami or car accident lawyer Fort Lauderdale Florida can provide much-needed support.

Why You Need a Car Accident Lawyer in Miami or Fort Lauderdale

A knowledgeable lawyer can be the difference between a dismissed case and a fair settlement. Here’s why hiring a Miami car accident lawyer or Miami car accident attorney is crucial:

1. Legal Expertise

Car accident laws in Florida are complex. Florida follows a “no-fault” insurance system, which can complicate claims. A specialized car accident lawyer Fort Lauderdale Florida understands these laws and can navigate them effectively.

2. Evidence Gathering

An experienced lawyer will collect evidence such as:

Police reports

Medical records

Eyewitness testimonies

Traffic camera footage

3. Negotiation Skills

Insurance companies often try to minimize payouts. Your car accident lawyer Miami can negotiate on your behalf to ensure fair compensation.

4. Court Representation

If your case goes to court, a seasoned Miami car accident lawyer will represent you, argue your case, and advocate for your best interests.

What to Look for in a Car Accident Lawyer

When choosing a Miami car accident attorney or car accident lawyer Fort Lauderdale Florida, consider the following:

Experience and Specialization

Choose someone who specializes in personal injury or car accident cases. Experience in local courts can also be advantageous.

Track Record

Ask about past cases, success rates, and average settlement amounts.

Communication

Effective communication is key. Your lawyer should be responsive and clear in their explanations.

Fee Structure

Most car accident lawyer Miami professionals work on a contingency fee basis, meaning they only get paid if you win.

Common Types of Car Accident Claims

Your Miami car accident lawyer can help with various types of accident claims, including:

Rear-End Collisions

These are the most common and often occur due to tailgating or sudden stops.

Side-Impact Collisions

Also known as T-bone accidents, these usually happen at intersections and can result in severe injuries.

Head-On Collisions

These are less common but extremely dangerous, often involving high-speed impacts.

Hit and Run

Victims of hit-and-run accidents can still seek compensation, especially with legal assistance.

Steps to Take After a Car Accident

Check for injuries and call 911 if needed.

Move to safety and turn on hazard lights.

Document the scene by taking photos.

Exchange information with the other driver.

File a police report.

Seek medical attention even if you feel fine.

Contact a car accident lawyer Miami or car accident lawyer Fort Lauderdale Florida as soon as possible.

Understanding Compensation in Car Accident Cases

A qualified Miami car accident lawyer can help you pursue compensation for:

Medical bills

Lost wages

Pain and suffering

Property damage

Emotional distress

Rehabilitation and therapy

The amount of compensation depends on the severity of the injury, the clarity of fault, and the quality of legal representation.

How a Lawyer Builds a Strong Case

A Miami car accident attorney will construct your case by:

Conducting thorough investigations

Interviewing witnesses

Consulting medical experts

Creating accident reconstructions

Filing all legal paperwork promptly

Local Knowledge is Key

Choosing a car accident lawyer Fort Lauderdale Florida or car accident lawyer Miami who understands local traffic laws and court systems is invaluable. Their familiarity with local insurance companies, judges, and procedures gives you an edge.

Time Limits for Filing Claims

Florida has a statute of limitations for filing car accident claims. As of 2023, you generally have two years from the date of the accident to file a lawsuit. Consulting a Miami car accident lawyer early ensures you meet all deadlines.

Conclusion

Navigating the aftermath of a car accident can be overwhelming, especially when you’re dealing with injuries, expenses, and emotional stress. Hiring a qualified car accident lawyer Miami, Miami car accident lawyer, or car accident lawyer Fort Lauderdale Florida ensures you have a strong advocate on your side. With their help, you can focus on recovery while they handle the legal complexities.

If you’ve been in an accident, don’t wait. Contact a trusted Miami car accident attorney today to start your journey toward justice and compensation.

FAQs

Q1: How much does it cost to hire a car accident lawyer Miami?

Most work on a contingency fee basis, meaning you pay nothing upfront. They only receive a portion of the settlement if you win.

Q2: What if the other driver was uninsured?

A Miami car accident attorney can help you explore alternative options like uninsured motorist coverage.

Q3: Can I handle my case without a lawyer?

While possible, it’s not advisable. Insurance companies have experienced lawyers, and having your own car accident lawyer Fort Lauderdale Florida ensures you’re not at a disadvantage

#car accident #lawyer

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mcginnlawfirm · 1 month ago

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Can I Get Compensation for Personal Injury?

When you're hurt because of someone else's actions—or their failure to act—it’s normal to wonder: Can I get compensated for this? Bills pile up, work becomes impossible, and life suddenly feels like an uphill battle. The good news? Personal injury law exists to help people in situations just like yours.

If you're in Council Bluffs and need legal guidance, McGinn Law Firm is here to offer personalized legal assistance for personal injury claims, criminal defense, divorce, family law, and more. Let's break it all down so you know what to expect.

Can You Get Compensation?

Short answer: It depends on the details of your case.

Longer answer: If someone else's negligence or wrongdoing caused your injury, then yes, you likely have a claim. The legal system is designed to hold responsible parties accountable and help you recover financially from the damages you've suffered.

Here are some common types of personal injury cases where people seek compensation:

Car Accidents – If another driver was reckless or distracted, you may be entitled to damages.

Workplace Injuries – Workers’ compensation might cover you, but there are cases where you can sue beyond that.

Medical Malpractice – When doctors or hospitals make mistakes, their negligence can have life-changing consequences.

Slip and Fall Accidents – Property owners are responsible for maintaining safe environments.

Defective Products – If a product harmed you due to a design flaw or manufacturing error, you may have a case.

Wrongful Death – If a loved one’s death resulted from negligence, surviving family members can pursue justice.

Every situation is unique, but one thing is certain—if someone else's actions caused your injury, you shouldn’t have to bear the financial burden alone.

What Can You Be Compensated For?

Compensation (also called damages) covers more than just medical bills. A serious injury impacts every part of your life. Here’s what a personal injury claim can help recover:

1. Medical Expenses

Hospital stays, surgeries, physical therapy, medications—these costs add up fast. Compensation can cover both past and future medical bills related to your injury.

2. Lost Wages & Reduced Earning Potential

If your injury keeps you from working, you deserve to be compensated for that lost income. In more severe cases, if you can’t return to your previous job, compensation may cover long-term loss of earning capacity.

3. Pain and Suffering

Not all injuries are just physical. Chronic pain, emotional trauma, anxiety, and depression following an accident are very real damages.

4. Property Damage

If your car, bike, or other personal belongings were damaged in an accident, the cost of repairs or replacement can be included in your claim.

5. Loss of Enjoyment of Life

If your injury keeps you from doing things you once loved—sports, hobbies, even basic activities—you can seek damages for this loss.

6. Wrongful Death Damages

If you lost a loved one due to someone else’s negligence, a wrongful death claim can help cover funeral expenses, loss of companionship, and lost future income.

Compensation isn’t just about money. It’s about getting your life back.

How Do You Prove a Personal Injury Claim?

Getting compensation isn’t automatic. You (and your lawyer) need to prove your case. Here’s what’s required:

1. Duty of Care

The responsible party (defendant) must have had a duty to act responsibly. For example, drivers must follow traffic laws, and doctors must provide competent care.

2. Breach of Duty

You need to show that the person failed in that responsibility—whether by reckless driving, medical negligence, or failing to fix a hazardous condition.

3. Causation

There has to be a direct connection between their actions (or inaction) and your injury. If you were in a car accident caused by a drunk driver, proving that their impairment directly caused the crash is essential.

4. Damages

Finally, you must show that the injury caused actual harm—whether medical expenses, lost income, or emotional suffering.

This is where having a strong legal team makes all the difference.

What If You’re Partly to Blame?

Personal injury cases don’t always have a clear villain and victim. Sometimes, both parties share responsibility.

Many states, including Iowa and Nebraska, use comparative negligence rules. This means:

If you’re less than 50% at fault, you can still get compensated—but your payout is reduced based on your percentage of fault.

If you’re more than 50% at fault, you may not be able to recover damages.

For example, if you were 20% responsible for a car accident (maybe you were speeding slightly), your total compensation would be reduced by 20%. Instead of receiving $100,000, you’d get $80,000.

This is why it’s crucial to have a skilled lawyer fighting for you. Insurance companies will try to push more blame onto you—and a good attorney will push back.

What Should You Do After an Injury?

If you’ve been injured and think you have a case, here’s what to do:

1. Seek Medical Attention

Even if you feel okay, some injuries show up later. Seeing a doctor documents your injuries and strengthens your case.

2. Gather Evidence

Take pictures, get witness contact information, and write down what happened as soon as possible. Evidence fades over time.

3. Don’t Talk to Insurance Companies Alone

Insurance adjusters aren’t your friends—their goal is to minimize payouts. Anything you say can be used against you.

4. Consult a Lawyer

A personal injury attorney will assess your case, negotiate on your behalf, and make sure you get the compensation you deserve.

How Long Do You Have to File a Claim?

Time is not on your side. Personal injury claims have deadlines (called statutes of limitations) that vary by state:

Iowa: 2 years from the date of injury

Nebraska: 4 years from the date of injury (but only 2 years for medical malpractice cases)

Waiting too long can mean losing your right to compensation. The sooner you act, the better your chances.

Ready to Fight for What You Deserve?

Getting hurt because of someone else’s negligence is frustrating, stressful, and life-altering. But you don’t have to navigate this alone.

At McGinn Law Firm, we’re dedicated to helping accident victims, workers, and families get the justice and compensation they deserve. Whether it’s a car accident, workplace injury, medical malpractice, or wrongful death case, we’re ready to fight for you.

Call us at (712) 328-1566 today for a free consultation. Let’s talk about your case and see how we can help.

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abboudlawfirm-omaha · 2 months ago

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What is the Overall Cause of Most Accidents?

Accidents happen every day. You see them on the news, pass by them on the road, or—unfortunately—experience them firsthand. But what’s the real reason behind most accidents? Is it reckless driving? Bad weather? Or just plain bad luck?

Well, here’s the truth: most accidents aren’t random. They happen because of predictable, avoidable human errors. That’s right—people, not fate, are the biggest contributors to crashes, injuries, and even fatalities.

Let’s break it down.

Human Error: The #1 Cause of Accidents

You might think things like mechanical failures or road conditions play a big role in accidents—and they do. But studies show that over 90% of car accidents are caused by human mistakes.

Think about it:

A driver glances at their phone for just a second. Boom—rear-end collision.

A trucker pushes through exhaustion instead of pulling over. Next thing you know, they’re drifting into another lane.

A drunk driver convinces themselves they’re "okay to drive." We all know how that ends.

These aren’t freak occurrences. They’re preventable mistakes. And they’re happening all the time.

So what kinds of human errors are most common?

Distracted Driving

Texting, eating, changing the music, and talking to passengers take attention away from the road.

Let’s be real—how often do you see someone scrolling through their phone at a red light? Now imagine they don’t put it down when the light turns green.

The worst part? Many drivers don’t even realize they’re distracted. They think they’re just “glancing” at their phone or “multitasking.” But in reality, they’re driving blind for seconds at a time.

A car going 55 mph can cover the length of a football field in just five seconds. That’s all it takes.

Speeding

Speed limits exist for a reason. Yet, almost every driver has pushed past them at some point.

Maybe you’re running late. Perhaps the road looks clear. Maybe you just want to get home faster.

But here’s the thing: higher speeds mean less reaction time. If something unexpected happens—a car stops short, a pedestrian crosses, a truck jackknifes—you have less time to brake, swerve, or avoid disaster.

Speeding doesn’t just increase the risk of accidents. It also makes crashes way more deadly.

Drunk and Impaired Driving

It’s simple: if you’re under the influence, don’t drive.

Yet, despite all the awareness campaigns, people still get behind the wheel after drinking. And it’s not just alcohol—prescription meds, recreational drugs, and even lack of sleep can impair driving just as much.

The worst part? Many impaired drivers don’t feel impaired. They think they’re fine. They believe they’re still in control. But reaction times slow down, decision-making worsens, and coordination suffers—a dangerous mix on the road.

Reckless and Aggressive Driving

We’ve all seen them—the tailgaters, the drivers weaving through traffic like they’re in a Fast & Furious movie, the ones who honk the second a light turns green.

Aggressive driving isn’t just annoying—it’s dangerous. It leads to:

Tailgating crashes

Sudden lane changes

Running red lights

Road rage confrontations (which can escalate fast)

All because someone didn’t want to wait an extra few seconds.

Drowsy Driving

Not getting enough sleep? You might as well be driving drunk.

Fatigue slows reaction times, makes it harder to focus, and can even cause microsleeps—tiny blackouts where the brain literally shuts down for a few seconds.

And on highways, where long stretches of road can lull a tired driver into a daze, the risks skyrocket.

Truck drivers, shift workers, and sleep-deprived parents are especially at risk. But honestly? Anyone who hasn’t gotten enough rest is vulnerable.

Other Contributing Factors

While human error is the leading cause of accidents, there are other culprits, too:

Poor road conditions: Potholes, icy roads, and poor visibility can make even the safest drivers vulnerable.

Vehicle malfunctions: Brake failures, tire blowouts, and other mechanical issues can cause accidents out of nowhere.

Weather: Rain, fog, and snow make driving more dangerous, reducing traction and visibility.

These factors may not be the main cause of most accidents, but they can turn a small mistake into a catastrophe.

What Can You Do If You're in an Accident?

Even if you’re the safest driver on the road, you can’t control what others do. Accidents happen. And when they do, you must protect yourself—legally and financially.

That’s where truck accident lawyers of Abboud Law Firm come in. They specialize in:

Car and truck accidents (including those involving reckless and distracted drivers)

Wrongful death cases (for families who’ve lost loved ones in preventable crashes)

DUI-related accidents (holding intoxicated drivers accountable)

Slip and fall accidents (because dangers aren’t just on the road)

If you or a loved one has been injured in an accident, don’t wait to seek the support you need. A skilled attorney can help you navigate the legal process, fight for fair compensation, and hold negligent parties accountable.

Final Thoughts

Most accidents aren’t just bad luck. Choices cause them—texting while driving, speeding, or getting behind the wheel while exhausted.

By making safer decisions, we can prevent countless injuries and save lives. And for those who do end up victims of someone else’s recklessness, legal support is available.

So drive smart, stay alert, and contact Abboud Law Firm if you ever need legal help. Because when it comes to accidents, the right support can make all the difference.

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abboudlawfirm-tucson · 2 months ago

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How Can a Road Accident Be Reduced?

Road accidents—nobody wakes up expecting to be in one, yet they happen daily. A split second of distraction, a reckless move, or even bad luck can turn an ordinary drive into a nightmare. But here’s the thing: most accidents aren’t random. They’re preventable. So, the real question is, how do we reduce road accidents?

There are countless ways to make roads safer, from defensive driving habits to better road infrastructure. But let’s break it down in a way that matters—whether you’re a cautious driver, a pedestrian, or even someone dealing with the aftermath of a crash.

Put an End to Distracted Driving

We’ve all seen someone texting at a red light and then taking off with their head still tilted down, barely watching the road. Or the driver adjusting their playlist while merging onto a freeway.

Distracted driving is one of the leading causes of accidents. It’s not just texting—it’s eating, adjusting the GPS, chatting with passengers, or even daydreaming. If your brain is occupied with something else, your reaction time slows. A car ahead slams the brakes, and suddenly, you're in a wreck.

So, how do we fix it?

Put the phone away. No message is worth a life. If it's urgent, use voice commands or pull over.

Use hands-free devices responsibly. Even Bluetooth calls can be distracting if you’re too engaged.

Set up navigation before driving. Last-minute rerouting while moving is a recipe for disaster.

Keep both hands on the wheel. Your sandwich can wait.

Distractions are a choice. Choose to focus.

Slow Down

Let’s be real—most of us have ignored speed limits at some point. Maybe you’re running late, or the road is empty, and it just feels natural to push past the limit. But speed is a silent killer on the road.

Higher speeds mean less reaction time and a bigger impact force in a crash. It’s simple physics—the faster you go, the harder you hit.

Here’s how you can avoid speed-related accidents:

Respect the speed limit. It’s not just about tickets—it’s about safety.

Adjust your speed to conditions. Rain, fog, or icy roads? Slow down, even if the limit says 60 mph.

Use cruise control wisely. It’s great on highways but don’t let it lull you into a false sense of security.

Give yourself extra time. If you're always rushing, leaving earlier can make a huge difference.

Drunk Driving? Don’t Even Think About It

Drunk driving isn’t just irresponsible—it’s outright dangerous. Alcohol impairs judgment, slows reaction time, and reduces coordination. Even “just a couple of drinks” can cloud your ability to drive safely.

Think about this: every day, about 32 people in the U.S. die in drunk-driving crashes. That’s one person every 45 minutes.

How do we cut this down?

Designate a sober driver. If you’re going out, make a plan beforehand.

Use rideshare services. A $20 Uber is cheaper than a DUI—or a funeral.

Know your limits. You shouldn’t be behind the wheel if you feel slightly buzzed.

Be a responsible friend. Stop someone from driving drunk if you know they’ve been drinking.

Defensive Driving

Even if you’re the safest driver in the world, you can’t control what others do. That’s where defensive driving comes in. It’s all about staying alert and anticipating bad decisions from others.

How do you drive defensively?

Keep a safe following distance. Tailgating doesn’t get you there faster—it just increases your crash risk.

Watch for erratic drivers. If someone is swerving or speeding, stay away from them.

Check your blind spots religiously. Never assume no one is there—double-check.

Expect the unexpected. Assume other drivers will make mistakes, and be ready to react.

Better Road Design Saves Lives

Not every accident is a driver’s fault. Poorly designed roads contribute to crashes, too. Sharp turns without warning signs, pothole-ridden streets, and confusing intersections all increase risks.

What can be done?

More visible signage. Warnings for sharp curves and stop signs in the right places matter.

Better street lighting. Dimly lit roads make it harder to spot pedestrians and obstacles.

Well-maintained roads. Fixing potholes and worn-down pavement prevents loss of vehicle control.

Clear pedestrian crossings. Marked crosswalks and pedestrian lights can prevent tragic accidents.

City planners and lawmakers need to prioritize safer road infrastructure. However, as drivers, we can also advocate for these community improvements.

Pedestrians and Cyclists

Not all road accidents involve cars hitting each other—many include pedestrians and cyclists. And more often than not, the driver says, “I just didn’t see them.”

What can pedestrians and cyclists do?

Wear bright clothing or reflective gear at night. Visibility is everything.

Follow traffic rules. Cyclists, don’t weave through cars unpredictably. Pedestrians, don’t jaywalk.

Use designated crosswalks. They exist for a reason.

Make eye contact with drivers before crossing. Never assume they see you.

Regular Vehicle Maintenance

Ever had your brakes fail? Or your tires skid on a wet road because they were bald? A poorly maintained car is an accident waiting to happen.

Simple maintenance can prevent disasters:

Check your brakes regularly. If they’re squeaking or feeling weak, get them inspected.

Keep tires in good condition. Worn-out tires reduce grip and increase the risk of skidding.

Replace headlights and taillights. If other drivers can’t see you, the risk skyrockets.

Ensure wipers work well. A sudden downpour with bad wipers is a visibility nightmare.

What If You’re Already a Victim?

Accidents happen—even to the safest drivers. If you or someone you love has been in a crash, legal support matters. Whether it’s a car accident, a truck collision, or even a wrongful death case, the Abboud Law Firm is here to help.

Their experienced team handles:

Truck accidents

Wrongful death cases

DUI-related crashes

Personal injury claims

Slip and fall accidents

And more

If you’re facing medical bills, lost wages, or emotional distress from an accident, you don’t have to go through it alone. Reach out to Abboud Law Firm today and get the support you deserve.

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ilikekidsshows · 3 years ago

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Adrigami for the ask game?

OTP ask game

Who steals the whole fucking blanket in the middle of the night and leaves the other without any?

Adrien is very much a cat in that he will curl up, usually taking the blanket with him.

Which one is always stubbing their toe and screaming about it?

Neither of them would scream, exactly, but Adrien makes faces like someone took Plagg from him for half an hour after.

Who crashed a car and made the other pick them up at 3AM?

Look, this is Adrigami. They're basically the personification of the Finnish saying: "Joukossa tyhmyys tiivistyy." / "Stupidity distills within a group."

I'm saying they both crashed the car (one was driving poorly, the other was distracting the driver) and they have to call a friend to pick them up at 3AM.

Which one is the lightweight that needs to be watched over at all costs?

Kagami cannot be left unsupervised when drunk. Adrien does get tempted to join the chaos on occasion.

Which one likes to get up in the middle of the night and (loudly) make themselves a snack?

Adrien will not be stopped when snack food beckons.

Who is always suggesting they get another pet?

Adrien is hardwired to take care of small, cute things. Kagami finds this too endearing to really mind.

Who drinks straight up black coffee and teases the other for their overly-flavored Starbucks?

They both used to drink their coffee black but, as Adrien starts indulging in his sweet tooth more and more, Kagami treats his concoctions as a betrayal.

Which one insists upon buying unheard-of health foods?

Kagami will try to counterbalance Adrien's unhealthy snack food intake by sharing the new health foods she's trying out. It's a literal food fight where their snacks of choice battle for space in the cupboards.

Which one would run through a busy street just to pet a small dog?

Like either of them would run instead of parkouring across the nearest elevated spots to get past the crowd. Kagami is more likely to do that, though.

Which one always mispronounces words and gets constantly corrected by the other for it?

Adrien isn't actually good at speaking foreign languages (since his dad never allowed him to look for conversation partners to practise with), so Kagami coaches him.

#adrigami #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #kagami tsurugi #ask game

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notsowrites · 4 years ago

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Untitled 3x02 Coda #1

If RNM isn’t going to give us Malex, fine. That’s what fanfic is for.

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Outside the cave, far enough that Jones can't hear him, Michael lets go of all the anger and frustration that's built up over the past several hours. Hears tree limbs snap and rock tumble and crash around him, and when he opens his eyes it looks like a small tornado has passed through the area. His truck is untouched, right where he parked it outside the cave entrance, and Michael runs a hand over the driver side door, taking a deep breath. He does feel slightly better now, his skin no longer feels too tight, his mind isn't racing quite so quickly.

He drives. Away from Jones, and away from the caves. He thinks of stopping at the Pony, drowning himself in alcohol - except for the fact that Maria is still angry at him. But he won't apologize for that. He still can't believe how reckless she was, jumping off the roof of the Crashdown in some dumbass attempt to trigger her visions.

Thinking of her reminds him of her words again, how she'd pointed out he never seemed to have any ill effects from using his abilities. How had he not noticed? How had Max and Isobel not noticed? Had they chalked it up to the booze and acetone? Did they really think he was that much of a drunk to never say anything as they chugged acetone after using their abilities?

Alex had made comments. Several, over the past couple years. Ones that struck him to his core that Alex would assume something like that. Maybe he deserved it, choosing booze and acetone to quiet the chaos of his mind, needing to silence it somehow and not knowing how.

Even when he tries not to think about Alex, his mind eventually settles there, and Michael tries not to think too hard about that. What it means.

He realizes he's a block away from Alex's house, and turns down the street. The lights are off, except for the yard lights, and Alex's SUV is missing. He lets the truck idle, as he looks over the house, mentally scolding himself why he'd ended up here of all places. Alex doesn't need to hear about Michael's issues.

It's probably a stupid decision, Michael thinks, as he turns off the engine and pushes open the door, walking around to the rear of his truck and pulling down the tailgate. He's spent enough time tonight sitting outside his trailer, lost in his thoughts. The change of scenery might be good - even if this is where he ended up.

What Michael doesn't expect is Alex's SUV to appear not soon afterward. And what he really doesn't plan on seeing is Alex in his dress blues uniform as he steps out of the car. The shirt is open, hanging loose and revealing a white tshirt underneath. There's something clutched in his hand that Michael can't make out, and thinks maybe it doesn't matter.

"What are you doing here, Guerin?" Alex sounds tired. About as tired as Michael feels.

"I was trying to clear my head, and I just-" he stops and shakes his head, realizing how stupid this was. "I'll get out of your way."

"No, that's not-" Alex takes a step forward, his hand reaching towards Michael, like he's going to stop him. "That's not what I meant. Sorry, it's been a long day."

Michael laughs. "Tell me about it." He nods at Alex, trying to indicate his uniform. "Fancy Air Force thing?"

Alex bites his lip, and turns away, like he's debating talking about it at all. And Michael knows Alex has his secrets, doesn't always tell people what he's doing - hell, he up and left for a year to clean up Project Shepherd and barely told anyone. "Something like that."

Michael nods, understanding. But he also knows Alex is lying, he just doesn't understand why.

"You've been gone so long - there's a lot happening here too."

"Kyle told me about Max. I'm so sorry, Guerin."

"You know, last year, after everything, after nearly losing him, I thought things were getting better. Maria broke up with me, you disappeared - but I had Max and Isobel. And now-" Michael hates how deeply it hurts to think about losing Max again. For good.

"But he can't be saved again?"

"He doesn't want to be."

Alex looks taken aback, and Michael just feels frustrated. How much does he even want to tell Alex? Everything? He doesn't know. But maybe - maybe when Alex said he wanted to be friends, this is what he meant.

"How could he not?"

"His body is rejecting Noah's heart. He's known since last year, and never said a goddamn word about it." He hopes Alex can read what he's not saying, the words he can't bring himself to say - about how angry he is at Max for this decision, for not saying anything, for not letting them try and figure out a way to save him. Because he doesn't know what he's going to do if Max dies.

Michael's not sure he can stand losing anyone else.

"And there's no other aliens to do a heart transplant," Alex says quietly. sitting down on the tailgate next to him, fidgeting with the thing in his hands until Michael realizes it's part of his uniform as the light reflects off a Captain's bars badge.

Except there is someone.

There is someone in a cave out in the desert, locked up behind a cage that he built. Someone who is a replica of Max, who shares his DNA, who could be an exact match for Max.

"That's not - there might be someone."

"What?"

Taking a deep breath, Michael closes his eyes and stubbornly chooses not to look at Alex. "Last year, out in the desert, we found the stowaway who crashed the ship. My mother - Isobel and my mother - they had locked him up down in a cave."

"A year ago?"

Yeah, Michael realizes how ridiculous it probably sounds to somehow else.

"Iz and I have been trying to get answers from him, about where we came from, and why we're here-"

"Everything you've wanted to know."

This is where it gets difficult, and Michael pushes up off the tailgate, pacing around the driveway, rocks kicking up beneath his boots as he walks, Alex's gaze on him, but Michael can't focus on that right now.

"Maybe not! Because everything he says makes me wonder if anything Tripp wrote in that journal was true. Because according to him, she and Isobel's mom engineered Max as a weapon to fight back against some sort of planetary dictator, and kept him a prisoner."

"Guerin," Alex says, cutting into his rant. "I was there with you that day at the prison. She loved you. Even I could see that. So maybe it's not as black and white as you think."

"He said she chained up a kid, Alex," he snaps, his skin suddenly feeling too tight, his mind racing too fast. "What part of that isn't black and white?"

Too caught up in his pacing, in the chaos building in his mind, Michael spins on his heel and almost runs into Alex, who is standing in front of him now, hand held out in front to keep Michael from plowing him over. But it doesn't matter, because he feels himself shatter from the inside out, the tears in his eyes spilling over. He'd already cried once today over what he thought he knew about his mother, wasn't that enough?

"She loved you," Alex insists, his voice sounding annoyingly firm. "She found a way to travel across the universe because she loved you."

He hates how Alex makes it sound so simple, as if that love should be enough. But when has love ever done him any good? He'd told Isobel once, love is the worst thing that ever happened to me and hates that it's still true. His mother had loved him, and ended up here, where she'd died without ever getting to see him. He loved Alex, and that had been nothing but pain and heartache. He loved Maria, who instead had broken up with him. He loved Max and Isobel, and yet now Max was deciding to leave him.

"To escape a dictator! To escape someone who is my-" Michael stops short, pulling his words back. He doesn't want to call someone who is a dictator his father. He doesn't want to use that word. "I'm just the product of my mother needing to convince the dictator she was on his side."

Alex reaches out, taking his left hand, the hand still covered by the bandana because of Max's stupid decision to heal it without permission. The hand that he needed to keep the reminder that it's not worth it to think there's good in anything. Michael is glad when Alex doesn't try to remove it, just wraps his fingers around the palm and holds their hands up against his chest, near where Alex's heart is.

"Even if that's what she did, it doesn't mean she loved you any less."

He hates how convinced Alex sounds, as though the rest of it doesn't matter. He wishes it were that simple, that he could just forget everything else.

With one last squeeze of his hand, Alex lets them drop, and nods towards his house. "It's been a hell of a day - wanna come in and I'll tell you about it?"

Alex's military service is something Michael has never been fond of. The fighting, the rules, the fact that it's the reason Alex got injured - but maybe, he thinks, maybe tonight it'll be a good distraction for him.

He nods, and follows Alex inside.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #notso writes fanfic #can be read as a sequel to my 3x01 coda i guess #just gonna imagine a happy place #where malex are talking #even if we haven't seen it on screen yet

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smutsonian · 5 years ago

Text

Memoir - What You Don’t Know Series (2/6)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: remembering your past

Warning/s: flashbacks, angst, deaths, car crash, drunk driving, not proofread

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: i added a character. im thinking of timothee chalamet as Elio. If you’ve watched Call me by your name, elio aint that young here. Y/N and Elio is in their 20s :3 this chapter is focused on what happened to y/n before she started actin up

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For you, home doesn’t mean a house that you lived in so you can sleep, eat, shower, and whatnot. You always believed that a home was being with someone you love and loves you back. A home is with the person or people that you feel most safe and comfortable with. You only had two people for that matter. It used to be only one person but Steve happened. Home for you was with your father or with Steve. It doesn’t make any sense now because one is dead and one turned out to be a major asshole.

Maybe that’s why you’re currently sitting on your father’s grave. Maybe that’s why you left New York so you can grieve to your father’s grave. Doesn’t matter if he’s dead. He’s always been there for you and you would never fail to believe that he’ll still be there for you even if he’s dead.

You have always been a daddy’s girl. Your mother was the one who works for the family while your father is a house husband. The two of you were inseparable, always up to no good and your mother would always chastise the both of you but your father would calm her down and the three of you would just spend the time with each other. It was a picture-perfect family… Until it was not. A car accident. A fucking drunk driver. A guy stupid enough to drive a fucking car under the influence of alcohol. Your father was going to pick you up from a skating session at the ice rink but he never made it. The drunk bastard was going so fucking fast that the impact killed your father in an instant. Just like that. Just one blink and your father’s life is taken away from him.

Your father has always been your rock but when he died, your life went to shit. Your relationship with your mom wasn’t there if your father isn’t in the picture. The two of you would only have the chance to interact because of the picnics that your father would prepare whenever your mom gets a day off from the hospital. Being a doctor takes a ton of your time, you guessed. But that’s it. You never had the chance to have a one on one with her until your father died. It didn’t end well...

[Flashback]

I can’t believe this. He’s dead. He’s really dead. Why? Why?!

“You need to save him!” you yelled at your mom but she only shook her head, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Y/N… He’s gone. I did my best. I want him alive as much as you do but life can be full of surprises. May it be a good one or a bad one.” She makes a move to embrace me but I slap her hands away, still not believing anything of this. Not believing the words coming out of her mouth.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m one of your patients.” You hissed at her. Why isn’t she hurting like you were? Did she not care for him at all?

“Don’t talk to me like that, young lady. I’m still your mother-”

“Are you? Are you really? You never acted like one-” You couldn’t finish your sentence because of a stinging pain you felt on your right cheek. She just slapped you...

“You don’t get to tell me that.” Her voice was raising and you could see her face contorting into an angry one.

“You don’t get to act like you're the only one here who’s affected by his death. He’s my fucking husband, for fuck’s sake. I’ve been with him longer than you have and you… You just have to fucking take those shitty ice skating classes and for what? I don’t see why he’s so keen on supporting you with that. Look what it got him. He’s fucking dead because of you and your stupid classes.” Her voice was laced with so much distaste that you almost flinched at it. She was seething and it was all directed towards you. Your mother being disgusted by you wasn’t what broke you but her words did. The idea, no. The fact that you’re the reason for your father’s death is what broke you.

You eyed your mother with surprised and guilty eyes and made a step back away from her, shaking your head as the tears escaped your eyes. Your mother’s face morphed into a guilty one and she went to reach for you but you stepped further away.

“No.” You hissed.

“Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t fucking come near me ever again. I fucking hate you!” And with that, you run out of the hospital. Leaving your parents without looking back.

[End of the flashback]

Looking back at it now, you knew that you acted a bit out of hand and were being really selfish with your mother. You weren’t the only one who lost a family. Yeah, you lost your father but she lost her husband. She lost the guy that he fell in love with. They’ve been together for a long time and it must really suck to lose your lover. But you were a kid who’s mourning her father’s death and she definitely shouldn’t have put the blame on you. It fucked with your brain a lot. Like a lot. Having your mother tell you that you’re the reason for your father’s death deals great damage to a person. Especially a teenager.

Having your father die when you’re young also deals damage to you. You don’t know if it was your father’s death that made you crave older men’s approval or something but you know that his death gave you some kind of daddy issues. Putting yourself in situations with older men because of it, making you even more fucked up.

Craving their approval is unhealthy and can be dangerous if you find yourself with someone who’s manipulative because they can use that to take you for granted. It doesn’t really matter anymore because every single one you dated turned out to be the same type of people. Everyone used you and threw you out after they had their fill. Every single one of them. You thought Steve would be different but that one stung like a bitch. The way he treated you like a child… Those hurtful words that he used… Maybe he’s right. If it keeps happening to you, maybe the problem is you.

Maybe you’re still that kid that liked seeing his father proud of her and the moment that you failed to do that anymore because he died… Maybe you’re just stuck at that. You’re so hung up on making your father proud that you jumped on the chance of making every single older man proud of you. Nevermind them taking you for granted. You’re too blinded by your determination to fill that empty hole inside your heart to even notice.

“Hey, graveyard neighbor!”

Too occupied with your own thoughts, you don’t see the guy from beside your father’s grave until he calls out to you. You turned to see a young man sitting just a few feet away from you, one hand waving at you while the other was supporting his weight as he leaned back. Loose curls falling down his forehead as he smiled and nodded at you.

“I’ve never seen you around here. Though, I only ever started going here last month…” he mumbles, scratching his chin as he seems to be deep in thought.

“Is that your father?” He points towards your father’s headstone. You looked at him with a questioning look before nodding, turning your head to run your eyes over the stone. You never really got the chance to go to his funeral or to visit his grave because you ran away from your mother. You were too proud to be caught running back to her so you didn’t risk visiting your father. Come to think of it now, you’ve been really immature. You still are… According to Steve, you’re no woman. You’re just a little girl with a lot of issues.

You felt something touch your side and you were once again pulled out of your thoughts by the guy who found himself sitting beside you.

“According to your face, he seemed like a great guy.” He gives you a playful smile that you return. “He is… He was. He really was.” You nodded before hugging your knees and resting your chin on it.

“Your father?” Your voice was quiet as you pointed towards the headstone that was beside your father’s.

He nodded before standing up and slapping his father’s headstone. “Yep. The old man died last month. I always warned him about eating too much sugar but the old man never listened. Always saying shit about living what’s left of his life freely.” He chuckled before rubbing his palms on his jeans and offering you a hand.

“I’m Elio”

You took his hands and shook it before standing up. “Y/N.” You give him a polite smile.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. So, how come I’ve never seen you here before?” He asked with a tilt of the head and a teasing smile.

“I’m from New York. Just visiting here for some time.” You shrugged. How long were you even planning on staying here? You don’t really have a place here. And you for sure don’t want to see your mother. Not yet, at least.

“New York, huh? I have a small job there but I’ll be staying here for some time too. Gotta mourn my pop’s death with my ma.” He chuckles at his own words before shaking his head and poking his forehead slightly and smiling wildly at you.

“How do you feel about coffee? My treat.” He grins.

Elio seems like a fun guy to hang around with and he’s been nothing but nice. He seems about someone your age too so there’s no issue there… It can be a good distraction from real life. Having a friend sounds really nice right now and Elio has one of the friendliest smiles that you can’t help but agree to his offer to get some coffee.

Steve knew he messed up. He was so scared that you would actually leave him for real but the moment he stepped foot on your shared apartment, he felt somewhat relieved. All your things were still there. He knew you didn’t have a lot so he’s confident that you would come back. You didn’t have anyone else. He knows that you need him. He knows how you’re codependent to him. As selfish as it sounds, he’s thankful for that side of you. He’s thankful that you’re somehow messed up like that because that assures him that you’ll never leave his side. No matter how bad your fight was. You’ll come back to him. You always will.

Seconds. Hours. Days. Weeks have passed but you’re still nowhere to be found. You still haven’t come home to Steve and he’s starting to think that he may actually have done it. Where would you even go without him? Have you found another old man to cling onto? Steve knows he has no right to be mad. It’s his fault. He’s so used to being the righteous Captain America that he couldn’t believe the fact that he would be able to make a mistake. He couldn’t believe that he made a mistake with you. He just wanted to help you and be there for you but he failed. His confidence is gone and the realization hits him. You were gone and you might actually not come back.

And it’s all his fault.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers angst #steve rogers #angst #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #what you don't know

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probably-writing-x · 5 years ago

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If your world ends

(Guzmán x reader)

-Hello! I’ve made a semi-return. I’m not really expecting anyone to read this but I’ve had such an urge to start writing again sooo... here we are! Elite is my absolute favourite so here’s my first writing for that, I hope you enjoy. Criticisms are absolutely welcome if you feel like I could be doing better. But anyway, if anyone wants to be tagged or wants to have a chat - let me know! Have a wonderful day!!

Fun fact of the day - I got a haircut and I’m already regretting it :))))

The traffic today seemed to be relentless today as Guzmán tried to make the drive home. The sun had set almost two hours ago now and Guzmán’s drive to get dinner suddenly felt like the worst idea ever. The takeout food was already long gone. He’d been stationed in the same spot for so long that he’d shut off the engine and was now trying to find any way of distracting himself as to not get excessively bored. He fiddled dismissively with the loose thread around the rip of his jeans and tapped along to the beat of the music on the other leg. It was only then that the sound of his phone ringing offset his distraction and made him jump back to reality.

“Hello?” He begins, setting his phone onto speaker like he still had slight faith that this traffic could start moving at any moment.

“Guzmán?” It’s Ander on the other end, “Thank god I got through to you.”

“Ander!” Guzmán grins, “How are you man? How was your trip?”

Ander and Omar had recently got back from their first holiday together and he’d almost grown bored of hearing how excited Ander was about it.

“Guzmán listen, it’s (Y/n),” Ander begins, “She just got some really bad news and I think it’s best that you know.”

“What? What is it? Is she okay?”

“Her father’s just passed. He was in a car accident, they think it was a drunk driver crashing into him. They pronounced him dead at the scene.”

Instantly, with no warning, his heart sinks so far that it feels as though his stomach is turning in on itself. That couldn’t be it. He must’ve fallen asleep - dreamt it. No. (Y/n)’s father was the only family she had, always. Her Mum had left her when she was young and she’d never had any siblings. So it was just her and her Dad. When Guzman, her, Ander and Polo were young, they’d go round to hers because he’d let them get away with not doing their work, he’d trust them to not mess up the kitchen too much when they decided to bake his birthday cake. He treated them like three sons with his one, wonderful daughter. There was no way that he’d gone. That she’d lost him.

“She’s in a really bad way man, we’re here with her now but I’ve never seen her like this,” Ander explains, “I know you guys don’t talk but you deserve to know, he was part of all of our lives.”

It’s true. Even when she and Guzmán had started dating, he’d been that perfect mix of caring, protective, and everything you’d want in a father in law. He even told him the truth when they split up - that they’d both lost something beyond special. He’d be there for his daughter, Guzmán hurt her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t clasp him on the shoulder and show some sort of sympathy.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m glad you told me - send her my love I guess.”

Guzmán knew he wouldn’t do that. Having not spoken to each other for a year, the first way they communicated would not be through Ander.

He bids farewell and ends the call just as the traffic ahead starts to move slightly. The exit for his house was just past this one. But there was too much of a pull to not turn off at this exit - the one that would take him to hers.

It’s as he’s driving that a thousand thoughts of her cross through his mind. Where was she when she found out? Was she out drinking with her friends, even a boyfriend? Had she winced at the taste of wine and tried to swallow it down without anyone noticing? Maybe she’d been sat alone in the house waiting for him, putting on a show she didn’t care about so that they could watch their favourite as soon as he came through the door. Either way, he’s convincing himself more and more to drive to her without a second thought.

- - - - - -

As he’s nearing the door, it’s like Guzmán can hear the thousand reasons for him to turn back and leave her be - he wouldn’t want to cause any more problems for her on a night like this. But something told that young boy that he couldn’t possibly turn away from her, he’d regret it for the rest of his days.

His knock feels like it’s basically silent but it’s Omar that opens the door.

“Guzmán,” He says it like he’s just as surprised as Guzmán is.

Omar must see the lost hope in his eyes, the drop of his shoulders and the fear behind his quivering lip.

“She’s just through here.”

And there you are. As he walks through the hallway into the grand lounge, it has never looked more empty. All his eyes can focus on is you. Ander’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders but you’ve never looked more emotionless. Your eyes are reddened and swollen and are fixated on no point in particular, your hands clasped around an unused tissue.

When Ander’s gaze glances toward the boys, he instantly loosens his grip on his friend. It’s the only thing that shakes you slightly from your daze. How long had you been like that?

“Guzmán,” She half mumbles, barely audible against the blaring silence of the large house.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)?” Ander settles his hand over your knee.

You turn and glance at him quickly, “Yeah, you guys go home honestly. You need to get some rest.”

“No, you can’t be alone,” Omar encourages, stepping forward behind Guzmán.

“I’ll stay,” Guzmán speaks, his eyes never leaving you for a split second.

Ander glances between the two of you like he’s flashing back to a year ago - when you’d been crying over losing Guzmán and him and Omar stayed to comfort you.

Once they’re gone this time, it’s just you and him.

He steps down the few stairs until he joins you and takes a seat on the sofa just a few inches too far away from you.

“I’m so sorry (Y/n),” He croaks out, not expecting to lose his strength so quickly.

You take in a deep, shaky breath and try your best to respond, “I can’t believe he’s gone. He was meant to see me graduate, get my degree, he was meant to see me get past eighteen Guzmán.”

You’re trembling again as another load of tears resurface.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He sighs, shifting closer to you and settling a hand on your thigh.

He doesn’t grip too tight, and doesn’t move his hand too high - he’s too fearful of you pulling away from him.

“He’s gone,” You sob, realising now that it’s too much as you collapse into his side instantly.

His arms wrap around you instinctively and pull you as close as you can possibly be to him. He’s afraid you’ll break if he grips too tight, but even more afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his hold.

- - - - - -

Time passes quickly with the two of you like that. Guzmán never takes his sight off of you as your son slowly slows and you’re simply holding onto him just as tightly as he is to you.

It had been a year since he’d let you go, since you’d decided to cease all communication and admit that this wasn’t working. The end of your relationship was a twisted story of fear of losing each other, the fear of not being enough, of losing everything you’d had since you were four years old - it caused you to force yourselves into believing that you weren’t meant for each other. That this wasn’t forever.

But now that it felt like your world was coming to it’s premature end, Guzmán wasn’t letting go.

“You should probably go home,” You finally pull away, sniffing and wiping your nose, “I don’t want you driving too late.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

You pause and swallow the lump in your throat.

“I can go if you want me to,” He points out, not wanting to overstep and cause you anything more than you were already going through.

“You can stay, if you want to...”

He feels the lump in his throat build, “No, no, honestly, I don’t have to-“

“No,” You’re quick to interject, “I want you to stay.”

He can’t help himself when he lets a small smile shadow on his lips, “Of course.”

- - - - - -

“I’ll set up on the floor, the blankets are in the cupboard down the hall right?” Guzmán asks as he faces the wall to let you get changed.

You hadn’t asked him to - he’d taken it as a given. Of the two of you were dating, he’d have grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist, scattering your skin in kisses until you were giggling.

“Guzmán,” You say before he can leave, “Would you mind sleeping in the bed with me?”

He holds back a smile again. You were stood there, asking him to stay with you, in a jumper that he knew you’d stolen from him when you two were dating. You looked weak and broken and all he wanted to do was wrap you in that jersey and hold you tight all night. And the morning, and for every day to come where you didn’t feel strong enough to face it on your own. In fact, he wanted to be holding you on the days when he felt that way too, only you.

That’s how the two of you stay all night. He climbs into bed beside you, wearing his clothes from the day. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway. Guzmán stretches out an arm and you tuck yourself in beside him, letting his scent and strength engulf you.

He knows you’re too drained now to talk. He just knows he needs to be with you. To hold you and to tell you that you didn’t need to be alone in this mansion tonight. You wouldn’t be alone when you saw your father’s empty bed, or when you woke up in the morning and he wasn’t making breakfast for the two of you, when his car wasn’t on the drive. Guzmán knew you needed someone. Your world felt like it had stopped when you’d got that news, and he would be there until it started back up again. Every step of the way.

He knows that you don’t fall asleep. You both just lay there in silence - trying your best to digest the ongoings of the evening and make sense of the news you’d been hit with. That’s how you stay. For hours and hours, in pure insomniac silence.

- - - - - -

When Guzmán wakes in the morning, he’s probably only got through a couple of hours sleep, he heard you crying in your sleep and had to fight the urge to wake you up instantly. He dreamt for a split second that you weren’t there and had to jump awake to make sure you still were. You hadn’t let go of him all night - only tightening your grip when your dreams got the worst of you.

He slips away when he knows you’re still sleeping and pads down to the kitchen, trying to avoid making any noise in this eerily quiet house. He should be able to hear your father on an international business call, or be sneaking past his ajar door when you’d convinced him that Guzmán wouldn’t be staying the night, he should be having an early morning conversation with him about his dreams and where he saw his life going. He shouldn’t be questioning how you’d get through the loss of the most important person in your life. The thought made tears pool in his eyes.

One night he remembers vividly trickles into the front of his mind as he stands behind the kitchen counter, brushing a finger over the marble surface. You’d been out at a party hosted by Lu and the two of you had been competing all night in far too many drinking games. Your father had been away on business and the two of you certainly made the most of the idea. You’d stumbled through that door at an ungodly hour and didn’t even make it past the kitchen when he couldn’t get enough of you. In the end, you woke up outside beside the pool and found yourself in hysterics of laughter as you tried to piece together what on Earth had happened the night before!

That’s where he finds himself now, sat on the edge of one of the loungers by the pool. He wanted to take you back to then. When your biggest fear was falling asleep before your Dad’s flight landed. Or when you were forcing your Dad to trust you at parties, when he first started teaching you how to drive. When Guzmán first told him that you weren’t just a friend to him anymore. He wanted to pocket all of those moments and relive them all so you’d have another eighteen years with the man who took on the ‘both parents’ role, practically for you, Guzmán and Ander at times.

The thought made him want to rip his heart out and give it to you until yours found a way to bandage itself up. That’s when he finds himself crying. Because he’d lost a great man too.

He’s oblivious that you’re even there until you’re right beside him, wrapping your small arms around him to try to give as much comfort as you could.

“Shit, sorry,” He grumbles, dragging a hand over his face, “I shouldn’t be the one crying.”

You shake your head, “He loved you too, Gus.”

Guzmán smiles gently at the nickname - it’s one that your Dad gave him when you first became friends and he couldn’t remember his name, all those years ago. It sort of stuck ever since whenever your father tried to wind him up.

“Thank you for staying with me,” You say it quietly because you know your voice is broken down from your many waves of tears yesterday.

He shakes his head and squeezes your thigh lightly, “I’ll stay as long as you need. No reason to say goodbye just yet.”

You take in a deep breath and settle your hand over his on your leg, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. Your bottom lip trembles once again and you draw in a shaky breath as your tears betray you. But he’s there with you, and he hasn’t left your side. And, somehow, that feels like the weight of the world isn’t only on your shoulders.

He sticks to his promise - he’ll be there for as long as you need.

- - - - - -

(I’m sorry if this was hella sad :/ I love you if you got this far! Let me know what you thought!!)

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princess-victoria-targaryen · 5 years ago

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Desert road

Daryl Dixon X Male Reader.

Angst fic, character death.

I wrote this years ago for a challenge and found it again recently, decided to throw it out there.

Summary: Y/n picks Daryl up from a bar in town, miles from their home. Shitfaced drunk, Daryl experiences the most traumatic event in his life.

Warnings: Drunk Daryl. Verbal fighting. Daryl being an asshole. Injuries. Death.

Setting: Right before season 1 of twd.

Enjoy!

It happened on a Saturday, late at night, or maybe early Sunday. Not that it mattered. It was a memory that haunted him every night, every single night. It didn't matter whether he was asleep or not, the dark sky, the side of an abandoned road at night, a walker with bloody flesh hanging off its dead mouth, it all reminded him of that one night. If only he had known what would happen, if only he had listened, he could've stopped it. But he didn't know at the time, couldn't have known. And he didn't listen, too absorbed in other things to even cast a glance to the side. And he couldn't stop it, because it had already happened before he had the chance to turn around. He beats himself up over it every night, every single night.

"Daryl, c'mon, we gotta go home!" The voice calling for him was familiar, but Daryl's drunk mind couldn't process who it was or where it came from. When did the music get this loud? He turned his head to the left, and then to the right, searching the sweaty, dancing bodies around him, trying to find the person who the voice belonged to. A hand on his shoulder caught his attention, and he whirled around to see the face of his lovely boyfriend. He tried to smile at him, but it faltered as soon as he saw the glare directed at him.

"Y/n? We, we can stay here! It's f-fun!" His words were slightly slurred, but he sobered up just by looking into his boyfriend's angry eyes. Y/n was never angry at him, annoyed, sure, but never angry. It's like Y/n wasn't capable of being angry, always smiling, trying to cheer people up or solve a problem. Y/n hated arguing, and often didn't see the point in getting mad. But this was different.

"We are leaving, right now." His voice was a bit lower than usual, just a tad bit intimidating to get through to Daryl. Daryl's mind barely had time to process the hand grabbing at his sleeve, and he soon felt the cold air hit him outside the bar. When did he start walking? His boyfriend was talking, probably to him, but he was distracted by the bottle in his hand that he hadn't noticed before. When did he get this? He took a careful sniff at it, and once he knew what it was, he took a sip. The alcohol burned his throat, but it felt good. Life had been cruel to him for too long, the only good thing about it being Y/n, and he needed a break.

The walk to the car was long and awkward and cold, and Daryl disliked every second of it, but so did Y/n. This was the third time in a month that Daryl had gotten so drunk he could barely walk, and Y/n was getting sick of dragging him out of a random bar in town before he could start a fight. Daryl got drunk often, started fights in bars, and seemed to have little to no respect for Y/n while in this state, but he loved the man, and he won't let such a thing ruin them.

Y/n slowly guided them down the sidewalk, making sure Daryl didn't trip over his own feet, and unlocked the car once they got to it. He lowered Daryl into the passenger seat and got into the drivers seat himself, glad he didn't drink that night. It was then that he noticed the already half empty bottle in his boyfriend's hand, and sent him a questioning glance.

"Seriously? You're still going at it?" He started the car, not really expecting Daryl to answer, and drove out of the parking lot. They drove in silence for a long while, stuck between not knowing what to say and not wanting to say anything at all. The longer they drove, the more tense the air became, until Daryl had had enough of it. He leaned his head against the cool window, watching the scenery pass by as he blurted it out.

"Y'know, I don't need you to babysit me. I can take care of myself." If he had been sober, he would've slapped himself for saying that, but in that moment, he couldn't think.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry for wanting to look out for my boyfriend. And I also sincerely apologize for keeping you out of fights, and for taking care of you when you have a hangover, and for driving miles through a goddamn desert to come get you, and for driving miles through a desert again to take you home. Wow, yeah, I'm such an asshole, and so unreasonable, and oh my, I think you should just get out now and walk the rest of the way, or maybe back to the bar seeing as you can't get enough of that whiskey." His voice was even, calm, and nothing like the tone Daryl's past partners have used in an argument. That's a thing Daryl loves about Y/n, he never raises his voice unless absolutely necessary, and he always listens to Daryl no matter how unreasonable he's being.

Daryl is about to snap back at Y/n, to say something he doesn't mean and will regret later, but he doesn't get the chance. His boyfriend slams down on the brakes, causing the car to make a screeching sound and stop in its tracks. Y/n's arm shoots out to stop Daryl from smashing into the window, and he turns on the mist lights, dark, scared eyes scanning the empty road around them. Daryl takes a few long seconds to process the sudden halt, and his drunken mind tells him to be angry.

"What the hell was that?! You can't just do that!" His angry roar breaks the silence, and Y/n visibly flinches. Oh. He didn't mean to scare him, but he doesn't realize that now, his temper worsened by the high percentage of alcohol and his reason nowhere to be seen. Y/n doesn't answer him, doesn't even spare him a glance, as his eyes search the road and desert around them, for what, Daryl doesn't know.

"What the fuck are you looking for? Hey, Y/n! Why’d ya stop driving?" He couldn't stop himself from snapping again, his words landing like a blow to the face. Y/n curls in on himself, eyes going impossibly wider.

"I, I just.. There was, I think, and I saw-" He takes sharp, uneven breaths, and points a shaking hand at the road.

"There was someone, a, a person, I think." Daryl scoffs, shaking his head as he looks where Y/n is pointing.

"There's nothing there, you're just seeing things." He leans back against the seat, expecting Y/n to start the car again, which he does. The car rumbles for a few seconds before it starts, and they continue to drive down the road. After a few, silent minutes, Y/n takes a longer inhale and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, you're right. I think I'm probably just seeing things."

Dead trees and bushes flash past them, illuminated by the bright lights of the car. Y/n still hadn't turned off the mist lights, too shaken up by the strange, stumbling figure he had seen about a mile back.

"What if it was someone in need of help? What if they got stranded in the desert, injured, alone and without food? Why didn't we get out of the car to look? To ask them?" Daryl sighed as he listened to his boyfriend's rambling, sitting up a bit and turning to him.

"Look, Y/n, I know that you tend to worry about others, but we ain’t going back. If they need help, another car will come by sooner or later. And what if it was someone on drugs? Or a serial killer waiting for their new victims? Just take us home and forget about it."

"What if I can't?" Daryl's eyes snapped open at that, and he glared fiercely at his boyfriend.

"Don't you fucking dare." His warning didn't do anything, as Y/n turned the wheel and changed the car's direction, driving back the way they came too fast.

"Y/n! Y/n stop! You're gonna cause an accident!" Daryl tightly grabbed at his seat, desperate for something to hold onto as the car sped down the dark road.

But no one was prepared for what happened next.

It happened in mere seconds, but both of them felt as though it lasted minutes. The car slipped, the brakes stopped working, the car slid over something on the road, it spun around, three, four, five times, before it came to a halt, lower to the ground than it was supposed to be. The airbags had shot out, softening the impact of Y/n's head hitting the steering wheel. Daryl had been somewhat lucky, his hands clamped so tightly to the seat and window that he hadn't crashed into anything.

"Daryl?" He took another sip of the whiskey, which had also survived the almost crash, before he looked to his left, seeing Y/n with a bloody nose and a forming bruise on his right cheekbone. He wanted to worry, to wipe away the blood and place a soft kiss over the bruise, but his rage won the battle, settling deep into his core as he realized what had happened, and who had caused it.

He stepped out of the car, rounded it, and noticed that the two front tires were flat. He cursed loudly, opening his boyfriend's door and almost yanking him out of the car, pointing at the damage.

"You fucking idiot! Are you kidding me? You ruined our car! How are we getting home now, huh? How are you gonna fix this?" His voice was like thunder, and Y/n flinched out of his grip.

“I’m sorry, I really am! But I swear, there was something on the road!” He wiped at the blood on his face, this was the first time he was truly afraid of Daryl. But his boyfriend would never hit him, he never had and he never would.

It was quiet then. They didn’t know what to say or what to do. What could they do? Their car was ruined, and Daryl was so drunk he could barely keep standing.

“I’ll call Merle to pick us up, he’s probably still in town anyway.” He turned away then, leaving Y/n to himself. He muttered something about Merle probably being drunk as well before turning to the car and looking at the reflection of the window.

“Fucking great, lovely, it’s not like I have a goddamn job interview in two days.. Nope, not at all.” He hissed as his fingers brushed over the bruise, quickly pulling away. Daryl had walked to the side of the road, sitting down on a fallen tree as he tried to reach his brother.

“What did we hit in the first place, anyway?” Y/n wondered as he took a few steps away from the car, rounding it and searching the road for anything that could’ve caused the car to crash. He took out his phone and used it to shine a light on the road, noticing some red, sticky substance.

“Okay, well, that’s unsettling. Look at me, talking to myself in the middle of the night, looking at blood, sounds like a goddamn horror movie!” He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he inspected the blood. But a long, vicious groan cut his train of thought off. It came from under the car.

“Okay, what the actual fuck. Daryl?” His boyfriend was still on the phone, apparently now arguing with his older brother, and he didn’t look up at the mention of his name. Y/n was about to walk over, when another groan came from under the car. His gaze snapped to the source of it, and he kneeled down.

“Please don’t be a poor dying cat, please don’t be a poor dying ca- WHAT THE HECK?!” A hand shot out, but not a normal hand, it was rotten, with flesh loosely hanging around it while black blood coated its fingers. It grabbed a hold of Y/n’s wrist before he could pull away. Y/n screamed, a loud, distressed sound which had Daryl drop his phone and jump up immediately.

Then a head came from under the car, dead and rotting and the stench was unbearable. It released another groan before diving its teeth into Y/n’s arm, biting through the flesh and muscle. But it didn’t stop there, it tore off the skin, turning the arm into a bleeding mess.

Y/n screamed again. A long, agonizing sound ripped through the air as he yanked his arm back, cradling it against his chest and staining his shirt with blood. His breaths came out fast and short as he struggled to move away, the pain in his arm so overwhelming he could barely sense Daryl’s hands on his shoulders.

“Y/n! Y/n, look at me, it’s okay, you’re gonna be fine.” Daryl’s face came in his vision, the familiar warm eyes and worried expression soothing Y/n’s incredibly fast beating heart. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before Daryl’s attention was on the wound, his hands hovering over it as he tried to figure out what to do.

“Okay, it’s, it’s not that bad. Let me just, grab s-some spare bandages from the trunk, okay?” He made sure to place a reassuring kiss on Y/n’s forehead before standing up and heading to the car.

“Wait!” Y/n’s hand shot out, catching Daryl’s wrist.

“Please don’t go, I don’t feel so, so good.” A sweat broke out on his forehead and his cheeks flushed.

“What’s wrong, how can I help?” Daryl’s worried tone did little to no good as Y/n slumped backwards, too weak to sit up anymore. Daryl quickly fell to his knees beside him, putting his hand of Y/n’s forehead to check for a fever.

“You’re burning up!” His mind shot into panic, he didn’t know what to do. Things like this normally didn’t cause an instant fever. But normally, a not-so-dead corpse wouldn’t bite into someone’s arm..

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Y/n I’m so incredibly sorry!” He cradled Y/n as he spoke, afraid that this would be it, that this would be the last time he could look into those beautiful eyes.

“For what?” Y/n’s weak voice hurt his heart, this is really it.

“For everything. For drinking so often, for yelling at you, for blaming you for everything. I love you, so so much, I never wanted to hurt you.” Tears streamed down his face as he cupped Y/n’s cheek, stroking it with his fingers.

“First of all, I forgive you. It’s okay, I stayed, didn’t I? And second, you act like I’m dying! C’mon Daryl, I’m fine!” He coughed then, long and hard. His vision blurred a little as he tried to sit up. What in the world was happening to him?

“Let me call an ambulance, please?” Daryl knew how stubborn Y/n could be, especially when it came to injuries, but he was just so worried. He could be dying for all he knows! Y/n sighed but nodded, watching as Daryl walked towards his phone.

His head hurt, his vision was blurred, he felt dizzy and the pain in his arm spread through his whole body, but he still smiled, because he had a reason to smile, he had Daryl. With that thought, his consciousness faded and his body slumped on the ground.

#twd x reader #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x male!reader #twd daryl #male reader #angst

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skiesofthesketchy · 6 years ago

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Blurred Lines

Stiles Stilinski x reader

Word count: 3,247

Warnings: alcohol, language, mentions of sex, flirty flirtyyyyyy

Summary: The reader gets a little too drunk and can’t help herself >:)

A.n.: Hey its me! I might have been a lil drunk while writing this lol. Yall still like teen wolf fanfic right? GOOD then you’re in the right place. Please lmk what you think I love feedback. enjoy! :)

This has been edited so that I like it better lol

The loud bass from the speakers in the colorful room sent vibrations through your body. Your vision was blurry due to your alcohol consumption that night, but you blamed it on the moving lights which were swirling around the room to the rhythm of the music, though they didn’t really help your drunken state either. Your eyes roamed the crowded room looking for one of your friends, perhaps one friend in particular that you could latch onto to steady your balance and ease your whirling thoughts.

Deciding to sway over to the kitchen to look for your friends there, some guy slammed right into you, spilling his sticky alcoholic drink down the front of your shirt. You stood there stunned, feeling the cold drink sinking into your top and down your arms. The dude just shouted an, “Oh shit!” laughing with two of his friends that stood next to him, all of them obviously even more drunk than you.

Groaning in annoyance, you started towards the stairs, hoping to find an unoccupied bathroom upstairs. Focusing on the taunting staircase ahead of you, you climbed the first few steps without a problem. The next one, however, had you stumbling backwards and reaching for the handrail before you could even register that you had misstepped. You yelped as you were fully expecting to tumble down the stairs unable to catch yourself, but a hard chest and strong arms caught you instead.

“Woah there, Y/N. You okay?” your rescuer asked.

“Stiles!” you cheered happily after turning your face to see one of your closest friends. “Oh my god, you saved me!” you smiled. Your back was still up against him while his hands held your waist firmly. “I was just looking for you.”

“Well you found me,” he chuckled, spinning you around so you two were facing each other. With him standing on the step below you, you were almost as tall as him and could see clearly into his whiskey colored eyes, concern crossing them. “For real though, are you okay? How much have you had to drink?”

“Um. A bit,” you giggled. It might have just been the vodka from earlier but you were very happy to be with Stiles now.

He helped you down the stairs, noticing how hard it was for you to actually hold yourself up, let alone walk down the steps. “From the looks of it, you’ve had more than a bit. And what happened to your shirt?” he asked with widening eyes, gesturing to the large splatters of amber on your white tank top.

“Some drunk idiots happened,” you grumbled, looking down to realize that the liquid made your shirt a little see through and it stuck to your skin underneath. “Shit.” You looped your arm through his and rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a brief moment, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “And yes, I’m drunk if that’s what you were getting at.”

Stiles laughed lightly, “A little too drunk is more like it.” You just hummed in response. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“Huh? Are you taking me home?”

“I’ll take you back to mine. Your parents will definitely kill you if you come home this drunk,” he laughed. Stiles grabbed your hand and led you around the party so you both could say goodbye to your friends.

The farewells were brief and you were soon walking in the chilly October night, a drastic temperature drop from the heat of the party inside. With your hand still enclasped in Stiles’ larger one, he walked you over to his beloved Jeep. He came around the passenger side with you to help you in, which you were thankful for because even with his help, you were ungraceful in your endeavours to hoist yourself up into the vehicle. He shut the door but you could still hear him laugh as he walked around the car to the driver’s side.

“Here, drink some water,” he offered you a water bottle after getting in and buckling your seat belt for you. You took it from him willingly and he turned the ignition.

“Are you sober?”

Stiles scoffed. “Of course. I had a feeling I’d need to take care of you tonight,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the fluttering that started in your belly. Good ol’ Stiles, always there when you need him.

You turned the volume dial up, engulfing the moving car in the music playing from one of Stiles’ playlists, and the two of you hummed along peacefully.

‘Shit’ you thought, feeling the wet material of your shirt still clinging to you. You swiftly pulled it over your head, thankful to be relieved of the sticky feeling, though your drunkenness had made you forget about it. You balled it up and used the dry parts of your shirt to dab your boobs that swelled above the lace of your bra.

“Hey, hey! What are you doing!?” Stiles shouted over the music, eyes flickering down to your chest, an incredulous look on his adorable face. He acted like you were doing something wrong and you were confused. “I’m trying to drive here!”

You quirked up an eyebrow. “And? You’re doing a great job, buddy.”

“How can you expect me to drive safely while you’re over there doing... whatever you’re doing... that!”

You giggled at the silly, panicked look on his handsome face. “What? Am I distracting you?” You leaned forward out of your seat and turned towards the boy to be more in his line of sight. You couldn’t help but smirk, loving how easy it was to tease him. You slowly continued to wipe the remainder of beer from your stomach and under the lining of your bra.

“Fuck, Y/N, are you trying to get us killed?” His fingers rubbed over his jaw before tightly gripping the steering wheel, his left leg bouncing as he stole another glance at you.

“I just didn’t wanna be soaked in beer anymore,” you shrugged innocently, scooting back in your seat, and he released an audible breath.

Teasing Stiles was always fun, but between platonic friends there’s always a line. As you and Stiles have grown closer, it’s gotten harder to distinguish where that line is exactly. Sometimes you even wished the line would blur or disappear completely, due to your stupid feelings for him. You usually ignored them, but with alcohol coursing through your system, your body buzzed with a desire for the attractive boy next to you.

The jeep stopped in Stiles’ driveway and you managed to hop out yourself this time. You followed close behind Stiles as he unlocked the door to the house. “Are you hungry at all, or did you just wanna pass out?” he asked, flicking on the kitchen lights.

“Hmm. I could eat.”

“Great--” Stiles swiveled around, eyebrows shooting up as his eyes landed on your still half naked figure, only clad in a bra and a short skirt. “But we should definitely get you a shirt first.” Was he blushing?

The gears in your brain started turning. “Nah, I’m okay. What’s on the menu, Chef?” You sat in one of the chairs by the counter, crossing your arms underneath your chest.

He let out a breathy laugh. “Uhm. Absolutely nothing unless you cover up.” Stiles almost looked serious, but the amusement in his eyes and the curve of his lips told you otherwise. You, however, were in a playful mood thanks to the liquor.

“Why are you being a baby? You’ve seen me in my bra before,” you casually inquired.

He huffed, all but glaring at you. It was either because of your little insult or because you were challenging him by not doing what he asked.

“Fine. I’ll just get myself something to eat.” You stood and strutted past Stiles towards the pantry as he held his stiff position. The warm brush of your arms did not go unnoticed by either of you.

Skipping back to the counter with a box of cereal, you stretched your arm up to get a bowl from the upper cabinet. Opting to lean on your toes, you almost fell back in surprise when Stiles’ strong hand caught your wrist. He held it there above you as you looked up at him, feeling his warm breath fan over your face.

“Like I said, sweetheart.” You froze, reading his stern body language. He was trying to intimidate you, but all you could think about right now was closing the small gap between you and kissing him. Sure you were intoxicated, but his proximity made you even more so. Intoxicated by him, that is. “Not until you put a shirt on.”

His grasp was still on your arm, but it was lowered between you now. Your body burned, only partially fighting off the urge to jump him right then. “Stiles...” you focused on his hard stare, the freckles littering his cheeks, his dark pink lips. “You don’t really want that.”

You heard him inhale a deep breath, “Y/N,” he warned. But you ignored him, finally diving forward, crashing your lips to his. Stiles froze, while you just wrapped your arms around his neck. It only took half a second for Stiles to kiss you back, growling into your lips. You pulled him close, pressing your body into his while his hands found the warm skin of your waist. Your entire form sizzled with the contact, loving the taste of him.

Only seconds had gone by before he firmly pushed you away by your hips. “Y/N. Y/N, stop.” You were confused, his quick rejection causing your chest to tighten. “We-- we can’t.��

“What Stiles? You don’t want me?” you retorted in disbelief, completely flustered.

“Babe, you’re drunk,” he tried to reason. You pushed away from his hold on your hips, a sour laugh escaping you.

“Sorry, Stilinski. I didn’t realize you’d be totally repulsed by me,” you flared. Many emotions swelled within you, but drunken anger took over all of them. Here you were, fully throwing yourself at your crush and he didn’t even want to kiss you.

“That’s not it,” the boy mumbled, sighing heavily. You just scoffed turning to get away from him. “God, I am not doing this again.”

You snapped your head back around at his comment. His palms rubbed over his jaw anxiously. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Let’s not get into in it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Spit it out, Stiles.”

“You don’t remember?” He seemed almost as upset as you were, the temperature of the room rising. “Jesus, you don’t even remember,” he shook his head, hands rubbing the back of his neck now after he noticed your bewildered features.

“Remember what?” You had no idea what the hell he was talking about. After a moment of strangled silence you growled, “For the love of god, just tell me!”

“This isn’t the first time this has happened, Y/N.”

“Huh--”

“It was hard enough to push you away the first time. I don’t think I could control myself enough to keep you away.” His fingers tugged on his messy hair, frustrated.

“What?” You were dumbfounded, unable to recollect anything about the scenario he was referring to. “Are you saying we’ve... kissed?”

He forced out a sharp laugh. “It was a little more than that.” Your face burned red. How could you not remember any of this?

You tried to organize your thoughts in your flustered state. “What- why didn’t you say anything?”

“You acted completely normal the next day. I thought you didn’t want to talk about it. I thought you regretted it...” he mumbled the last part.

You shook your head. “I don’t even remember. Shit did we... did we fuck?” Your eyes grew wide. Of course you’d forget sleeping with the one person you’ve liked since forever.

“No. No, of course not. You were drunk and I have way too much respect for you.” You calmed a little, but more questions popped into your mind. “Which is why I can’t kiss you right now even though it’s killing me not to,” he all but grumbled.

You blushed. The heat of the moment was still present but dispersing around you. His last phrase echoed through your mind.

“Y/N?” he asked cautiously after you hadn’t said anything.

“I...” you fumbled around in your brain trying to find something to say. “I’m sorry I’ve put you in this position. Twice now,” you forced a laugh, looking down at your exposed figure and picking nervously at the skin around your fingernails.

Stiles scrunched up his face at your suddenly saddened demeanor. “Don’t apologize,” he spoke softly. “It’s okay.”

Silence took over the room. Neither of you could bring yourselves to speak up.

“I like you, you know.” The words abruptly left your lips, shocking yourself even more than Stiles. “I know we’re friends. Really good friends. But I like you more than that.” You surprised yourself even more as you found your voice calm and confident.

Your gaze finally met his honey eyes which were boring into you. “I guess I only have the guts to do something about it when I’m intoxicated.” Your shoulders lifted in a shrug as you laughed sheepishly, trying to relieve some of the tension.

Stiles’ jaw hung open, but no words tumbled out. You were getting hot and uncomfortable again. You confessed your feelings and he still has nothing to say. “Stiles?”

“Are you sure that’s not just the alcohol talking?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure. I mean the alcohol definitely helped with the delivery, but my feelings are sober.” In fact, you were sobering up by the second.

You were annoyed now. The boy still stood there not saying anything.

“Damn. I’ll take the hint, okay?” you spat, spinning around to go upstairs. You dragged yourself up the steps to Stiles’ room hoping that he wouldn’t follow you. It was much too late to go running home at this hour but you couldn’t stand to look at his stupid, pretty face. You were humiliated, angry, but most of all, hurt.

Shutting the door behind you, you rummaged through the middle drawer of Stiles’ dresser, pulling out one of his t-shirts. Taking off your bra and pulling the black shirt over your head, you turned to face the mirror hanging on the wall. Oh god, you looked like a drunken disaster.

Your hair was in tangles and your dark eye makeup smudged at the corners of your eyes. Your face was flushed with eyes burning red, but those were just the tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. You refused to let them, though.

You huffed, moving over to the bathroom attached to the room. You used water to wash your face of the messy makeup and put some toothpaste on your finger to wash out the horrible liquor and strange words you had said downstairs from your mouth. Your finger swiped over your bottom lip as you remembered how Stiles’ lips felt against them.

You didn’t let yourself sink into those thoughts. You turned off the light as you left the bathroom, only to discover Stiles sitting on the end of his bed. You hadn’t heard him come in.

His eyes raked over you slowly, and you could see his throat bob in a gulp.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you offered, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom. “I get it. We’re just friends. Sorry I’ve complicated everything...” You prepared to continue rambling, just wanting this night to be over already.

“You may have complicated things a little,” his lips quirked up, “but I haven’t thought about you as just a friend in a while.”

Your eyes blazed in confusion and shock as you just stared at him. “What does that mean?” You craved more information to be sure you were understanding correctly. Your words were almost a whisper.

“It means I like you,” the boy chuckled at your expression. “A lot.” Your heart hammered in your chest.

“But, downstairs...” you mumbled, not knowing how to finish.

He chuckled once more. “I’m sorry. What happened downstairs was a lot to take in.” You slowly started moving closer to your long time friend, hanging onto his every word. “I’m just... scared you won’t remember this in the morning,” he whispered.

“Stiles,” his name drew from your lips. You were now positioned in front of him, his nose turned up to look at you. You let your fingers move through his soft, dark hair. “I don’t think I could forget this even if I wanted to,” you hummed happily. “And trust me, I don’t want to.”

You put your knees up on the bed on either side of him, straddling him as your skirt rode up your thighs. Your hands were now placed on his jaw with his on your legs, your pretty eyes meeting his in an intense stare.

“You promise?” He looked worried but hopeful.

“I pinky promise.” You came closer, intending to lock lips with him for the second time that night, but his hands shot up to catch your wrists, pulling back slightly.

“Babe,” he grunted, unwillingly. “I don’t think we should. Not ‘til you’re sober.”

You pouted. After everything tonight has been, you at least wanted a fucking kiss. “Just one innocent kiss,” you pouted even more, hoping to convince him. His eyes darted down to your bottom lip sticking out, and he grunted again.

“Just one,” he choked out, unable to hold himself back any longer.

He pulled you in by the back of your neck and your needy lips finally connected in a hungry and passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck trying to pull him as close to you as possible. His rough fingertips moved up your legs and rested strongly on your hips. It was pure magic, unlike the kiss of drunken madness from earlier. You smiled into his lips despite not being able to breathe. Both of you were enjoying each other too much to break away for air.

You pulled away first, resting your forehead against his. Your breaths seemed to match as you both calmed down from the heated moment. “We should get you into bed,” he spoke up first. “You better fucking remember all of this, Y/N.”

You laughed. “I pinky promised, didn’t I?” You watched as he stood and pulled back the covers of his bed for you to climb into it. You happily obliged before you noticed him start to walk away.

“You’re not actually thinking of sleeping on the couch, are you?”

“Well I can’t sleep here,” Stiles laughed. “I don’t trust you to not jump my bones and take advantage of me.” If he was still standing near you, you would’ve hit him.

“Just get into the bed, idiot,” you laughed. He removed his shoes before turning off the light.

“Fine. But no funny business,” he chuckled, laying down in the sheets next to you.

“Have it your way,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to his cheek before rolling onto your side. You felt his strong arm wrap around your waist, spooning you. You laced your fingers through his and held them to your chest, perfectly content with your life right now.

“I cannot fucking wait ‘til you’re sober, Y/N,” he breathed into your hair. “Then I’ll be the one taking advantage of you.”

..................................................................................................

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hollenka99 · 5 years ago

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The One Where Jackie Nearly Dies

Summary: Chapter 2. Anti has another victim but may need to improvise with his methods.

Warnings: Attempted murder, blood, kidnapping, knives

@badlypostedeverything @bupine

A young man reluctantly stands by as the serial killer lures his next victim. He witnesses their conversation, safely out of their view. As they disappear towards Anti's vehicle, the observer forms a portal. On the other side, he steps into a house full of chatter. Raucous laughter can be heard coming from the living room. The culprits are four men, all planning on getting progressively drunk over the course of the night. The host is the one due to celebrate his 34th birthday the following week. Fortunately for Joel, the evening has only recently gotten under way. The hero he is searching for will have barely affected his blood alcohol levels. Henrik is taken aback when he spots him. The collective surprise leads to Marvin turning his head to check what the fuss was about. "Joel? Way to crash a party, dude." The teleporter stands behind Marvin. Hands on his friend's shoulders, he leans close to his ear. "Go home and suit up. It's Anti." "Are you fucking kidding me? Can that prick not let me have one night to hang out with friends? Fine. Can you get me home?" Marvin mutters back. "Of course." Chase initially protests the departure, claiming no supermarket would ask an employee to work a shift with no prior notice, let alone do so after 8pm. Marvin insists he really does have to leave the party early. As easily as walking through a door, the duo finds themselves in Marvin's flat. Rapid changes have become a mastered skill for the superhero. He tucks all his curls out of his face, kept hidden by the top of his costume. One of these days, he'll stop reminding himself at the most inconvenient time to get a more practical haircut and actually do it. His companion hops back from Ontario in a hoodie and jogging bottoms. Hop may not be the right verb. It looks moments away from being closer to 'stumbles' or 'trips'. Still, Joel keeps his composure and gives Marvin a thumbs up. He's right. Time doubting Joel is simply time wasted. He hasn't let him down in the past. In the appropriate attire, the Magnificent Cat and Warper set off into action. ---- The door won't budge. All attempts to escape prove fruitless. This is where having powers would really come in handy. Jackie would kill for- Okay, maybe he should pick a better choice of phrase. Either way, having enhanced strength would be highly appreciated right now. He won't stop fighting against the locked car door. "Could you please cut that out? If you break something, I'm the one footing the bill." "Good. Should have thought about that before kidnapping someone." "Listen, it's nothing personal. You're just a random guy, you know. The only people who will realise you've vanished are me and possibly that superhero." "That's not as reassuring as you probably think." His head was really suffering now. It kept throbbing severely, causing him to suppress a groan. "Why does my head hurt so much? All you did was trick me." "Ah, yeah, sorry about that. Side effect for people not used to my power when I focus it on them." "I'm about to be killed by a shapeshifter?" "Shapeshifter." The driver clearly finds this humourous. "That's where the police go wrong. I respect their efforts but I can't help but laugh at them. Trust me, I can do so much more than make myself look different. Do you have any powers? Clearly not anything strength-related." Jackie refuses to answer. Anti takes this as legitimate response and continues driving. Anything that most people would likely see as a landmark was lost on him. The most he would be able to comment if he somehow managed to call for help was 'I think it was right at the Sainsbury's and we passed a church sometime after that'. However they get to the office building, Jackie wishes this was where the journey could end. He'd happily walk all the way back to his spot near the high street if it meant keeping his life. With encouragements such as 'I'm sure you would prefer this to be private', Jackie is lead inside. Several floors up, Anti disables security by simply looking at them. Okay, maybe a bit more than a non-shapeshifter then. The killer faces him. "Listen, I'm usually a reasonable guy, you know? I have a job and have a bunch of good interpersonal relationships. But sometimes shit happens. Unfortunately, not everything in life can go smoothly. Everyone has their release. I can smell that you use cigarettes as your method. And me? Well, for some fucking reason, this. Don't ask. Even I'm not entirely sure why I feel so accomplished afterwards." Anti will have to try harder to get a reaction other than a scowl out of him. "Have you ever had someone cheat on you? Because that is probably the one of the shittiest things someone can do to their partner, second only to well, actually abusing them. You ever been through that?" Okay, he has to admit, that threw him off guard. "Uh..." "No, don't deny it. I can see it on your face." Anti smiles. "You stuck around after finding out, didn't you? Wow, I gotta say, I admire you for not confronting her ass the first chance you got." "My personal life is none of your business." "No. No, you're right. I'm sorry. Still..." The murderer admires the knife in his hand. "You seem to have drawn numerous short straws lately. I'll do you the courtesy of not beating around the bush any longer." The trajectory of the knife appears to directed at Jackie's chest. He dodges it enough so the blade only slices his arm. He gets no time to reflect. Anti kicks him in the chest. Stumbling back, Jackie loses his footing and falls to the floor. There's the knife again. Scrambling to rise isn't performed quick enough. Hand around his throat to help secure him, Anti makes the first blow. The knife twists upon departure. The killer acts as if he struggles to retrieve it. All to accentuate the agony. The sequel follows swiftly. With it, the process is repeated. All the while, Jackie's biggest distraction is making himself focus on anything but Anti's hovering face. Then he sits. Nothing more, nothing less. Jackie convinces himself he has a chance of escape. Any attempt he makes to leave is squashed. Pushing his protesting body up with his arms results in a sharp jab of a foot. His second attempt fails with more aggression. Okay, he gets the message. Fuck moving then, except for curling in on himself. He doesn't even notice his face getting damp. "Shh, it's okay. I'll speed things up in a few minutes. Promise. Even get your own stone that I painted myself." Anti stays there, sitting, waiting, observing. He watches as his latest victim steadily grows closer to a point of no return. Something unforeseen halts this activity. Jackie swears he spots a pot plant ignite. A face he's seen before appears. The stranger begins helping him to his feet before promptly abandoning him. Another person lends him their hand in the chaotic midst of a battle. His gratefulness ends as soon as he's upright. A left arm wraps around his front. It pins Jackie's arms to his body and keeps him pressed against Anti. He does his best to focus on how awkward he'd feel this physically close to a stranger in any other situation. Anything to distract from the fact the killer's other arm is busy aiming a knife at his throat. Cat directs a forceful gust at multiple panes of glass. Some shatter from this attack. Threats to introduce fire to Anti's clothes are heard. Anti laughs as he calls the superhero's bluff. As if he was willing to purposefully endanger one life, let alone two. A branch reaches out to the criminal and his hostage. The knife is easily stolen. Anti counts his losses and lets Jackie fall unceremoniously to the floor. "There's an exit there. You should get out if you can." He hears Cat declare as he recovers, pointing the way. Jackie could have sworn he and Anti entered from the other side of the room. However, a lot had occurred in the time since. He hobbles towards the door while grasping his wounds. A hand against the wall assists in guiding him to his destination. The illusion breaks and reforms in such quick succession, it flickers like sunlight while driving past a fence. In the span of a blink the world corrects itself. There's that door again. The heroes are busy. He'll help them out by giving them less to worry about. Anti somehow causes the vigilante duo to stop attacking him. He approaches Jackie, standing a little too close for comfort. Not that there was anything comforting about a serial killer. Please just stop tormenting him. The remaining shards of glass poke him in the back. If he leans back any more, he may receive a third stab wound. The man determined to see him die tonight grips him by the top. Grinning at the two heroes, he tells them "Catch him if you can." and... And oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. There is nothing surrounding him expect air. No amount of flailing is going to conjure a last minute object he can grab to save his life. He's really done for now. During all those times he worried if he wouldn't see 25, he hadn't planned for this to be how. He shuts his eyes. What else can he do? Heights have never particularly fazed him. Watching the street grow closer, however, would make anyone fearful. He guesses he should be grateful it's ending like this. This is certainly a faster and less painful method than he expects some people he knew got. He tries to imagine the reunion. Just one of them saying "Slept with the wrong person", to which he'd reply "Got thrown off a building with stab wounds" before they'd all shrug and agree "Well, that's life. What are you gonna do?" He makes impact. It's more dizzying than he thought. The ground groans beneath him. After a few moments of catching their breath, the person below him speaks. Arms have been embracing Jackie since landing. "You hanging in there? Things are going to be alright now." A pause as a head turns. "Of course he'd send us here. Should probably sort out those wounds before anything else. Better go grab my first aid kit." "'M fine. Not the first time I've been attacked." "Buddy, you were stabbed and thrown off a building. Like hell I'm going to let you bleed out in my home. Wait here." Jackie is gently pushed off of Cat and positioned to sit with his back against the wall. The hero is careful not to treat his friend's wounds incorrectly. Jackie doesn't pay much attention as bandages are applied to his arm and torso. His face occasionally gets splashed with water to keep him alert. He's certainly brought back to the here and now whenever Cat applies disinfectant and stitches. "Alright, I get that after all that's happened tonight, you might be wary of me. Do you want me to do the 'say something only you'd know' bit? I'm fine with that." "If you want." "We first met when I offered you a sandwich. Ham, right? Wait no, hang on, that's too generic. Um..." Cat ponders for a second. "How about the time you told me... about your little brother Spencer? He was learning to read the last time you saw him, right?" "Yes." He rewards Cat with a weary thumbs up. He guesses Anti wouldn't know about that. Anti stalking Jackie for weeks seemed doubtful. Cat sighs with a hint of exhaustion escaping unmasked. "There's also the fact I trust you with my secret." He removes the mask to reveal a man with familiar curly brown hair. "Hey, Jackie. Congrats on becoming the 3rd person to know." The two of them sit on the floor, backs against the wall. Tonight had been eventful and they needed a moment. A grey cat missing one of its front legs heads towards them. Marvin's face lights up as he holds his hand out to the cat. "Well, hello there madam. Finally decided to grace us with your presence?" He laughs. "You have a cat?" "Yep. Indie, this is Jackie. He's going to be staying with us for a while. Please be nice to him, okay?" "St- Sorry, staying with you? No, I can't. I-" "I insist. You just went from being on the streets to nearly being murdered. This place has two bedrooms and I'd rather the spare room gets used the way it was meant to. Right now it's just somewhere for dumping clutter or for Joel to crash when he wants to annoy me. All I need to do is change the covers which will take 10 minutes maximum. How long has it even been since you last slept in an actual bed?" "Alright, if you really want me to then thank you, I appreciate it." A hand carefully places itself of Jackie's shoulder. "No problem. I'll get right on that then. Help yourself to water or squash while you wait." Marvin disappears, still wearing his blood stained Magnificent Cat outfit. It is now that Jackie realises how foreign a bed seems after almost 2 months without one. He'd sleep well tonight. If only Marvin had stronger painkillers than Ibuprofen.

#jacksepticeye #my writing #writersofjack #jumbled au #antisepticeye #jackie mann #the magnificent cat #tw blood #tw knives #tw kidnapping #tw murder

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etodderz · 5 years ago

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Duluth Accident Law Firm

Duluth Auto Accident Attorney

Legal Representation For Auto Accident Victims in Duluth Georgia

When drivers fail to follow all of the rules of the road, it can cause serious, and in some cases, fatal accidents. This results in innocent people getting injured or losing their lives. Auto accidents frequently cause serious injuries, including whiplash, spinal injuries, and head traumas. The auto accident lawyers at Kenneth S. Nugent, P.C. law firm are a team of dedicated professionals who have helped car accident victims in Georgia for 25 years. We work diligently to protect the rights of accident victims and to help them obtain the proper compensation they need for the injuries and damages they have suffered in a car accident.

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Motor vehicles are very powerful, heavy, and large machines. When they are not driven carefully, serious injuries or death can be the result. If you were injured in a car crash, then you may need the following:

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A civil claim under Georgia law is allowed to provide a victim with compensation for the losses they have suffered due to another person or organization's negligence. These losses, which are also referred to as damages, are divided into three major categories:

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catfishandthebottlefan · 6 years ago

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#11 - Heathrow

A/N - So I’ve been gone for a few days, because I’ve been writing this long fic! It’s over 5,000 words (sorry😂) I’m super proud of this one though, and I’m sure you’ll love it :) Enjoy reading it, and, if you enjoyed it, please leave a note for me so I know what to write more of or less of! ~ A x

Van had always loved you. Well, it was the first thing he’d said to you when you were in pre-school - despite Van being a few months older than you, at your primary school they mixed the first two classes - and you’d given him your cookie cutter to help him make his sculpture out of play-dough. Through primary school, you’d stayed friends, before drifting apart gradually in secondary school as you began to see him less and less. Everyday chats turned weekly, and you only saw each other when it was organised by your parents, such as at family barbecues or special birthdays. You never forgot about each other, however, and you’d often smile as a surprise “how r u, havent spoke in ages xx” would flash up on your phone when Van was away.

You were 16 when you had to call Van for the first time in a couple of weeks. You were stranded at Heathrow Airport after a terrorist incident, when someone attempted to detonate a bomb in Manchester. Your flight back from Spain (where your family were on holiday - you had to return early to be home in time for GCSE results day) had been diverted to Heathrow.

“Van,” you pleaded, tears falling down your face, “Where are you?”

“Hey, you ok? I’m at home, sleeping like every other sane person on the planet. Why?”

“It’s ok, don’t worry-” you choked back a sob.

“Y/N, Y/N, hey, why are you upset?” the concern in Van’s voice shone through, “Where are you?”

“I’m stranded at Heathrow, someone set off a bomb somewhere, I’m ok, I just don’t have enough money for a taxi home or a hotel room and I, I don’t know what to do-”

You heard a jingle of keys in the background. “Van, it’s too far, it’ll take you 4 hours to drive-”

“I’m not in a rush, are you?” Van replied, jokingly, as you heard the slam of a car door.

“Van, you don’t have to do this, it’s 3 o’clock in the morning-” you choked, as you sat, shivering on a bench outside Heathrow Airport.

“Hang tight, love, I’m coming to pick you up.” Van replied, reassuring you, “It’ll be okay.”

He hung the phone up, and you held it close to your chest, disappearing inside your hoodie. You didn’t know how to feel - happy you were being rescued, or guilty you’d had to ask Van to come pick you up. You didn’t have a lot of choice as none of your other friends could drive yet, but you still allowed a few tears to fall down your face as you thought of Van’s kindness.

It turned out there was no need to feel guilty. At 7:30am, you spotted the white Transit van come round the corner, The Streets blaring from the stereo. Van was, of course, in the driver’s seat, however, you were surprised to spot Larry sleeping in the seat closest to the passenger door. You leapt up off of the bench, wheeling your suitcase over to the van. Van jumped out of the driver’s side and wrapped you in his arms. He threw your suitcase into the back, which was filled with guitars, amps and other music equipment, and hustled you quickly into the middle seat of the van.

“Y/N?” Larry muttered groggily, as you wriggled past him into your seat.

“Thank you guys so much.” you smiled, pulling your knees closer to your chest under your hoodie.

“No need, I know you’d have done the same.” Van placed his left hand on your knee, “You’re freezing, babe!”

“I’m okay,” you smiled, leaning into Larry, “Thank you guys so much.”

“It’s fine!” Van replied, cheerily. Then, more sincerely, he told you, “I’m here, whenever you need me.”

Van gently put his hand on your thigh as he pulled out of the drop-off bay, and you felt a slight shiver travel up your spine. You told yourself not to be ridiculous, he was just a friend. As Van drove you home, you began to fall more and more in love with him - it was like you’d never been apart for all those weeks when life had come between your relationship. No, not a relationship, you told yourself. It was just a friendship.

Little did you know, he was telling himself the same thing.

You hadn’t heard from Van for after that summer. Stemming from him driving you home that August morning, you had begun to meet up more and more. You would sit in the park together for days on end, then, at night, you would get smoke joints in the playground and get drunk by the duck pond. This led to blurred, yet fond memories of Van pushing Larry into the pond, and drunk Bob, who was always a laugh. Yet, once you started sixth form, you studied hard for your A-levels, and life began to push you and Van apart again. He left to tour with the band, who were still relatively unsuccessful, but you always admired his optimism. You kept in contact via calls and texts, always just as friends, but you slowly drifted further and further apart, just like the space between calls. You got into Oxford, to do a degree in Astrophysics, while Van was still living at home, or was on the road with the band, living off a pasty and a joint a day. Your parents - who had now divorced - expected you to have forgotten about him, and your uni mates knew nothing about him, but you still longed for his company, and would sit up late at night, contemplating calling him. Once again, little did you know, he was doing the same thing.

You were twenty-one when your professor broke the news that you were one of the few students he believed was capable of giving a talk to thousands of younger aspiring scientists as part of a education programme.

“Like a TED talk, only for teenagers.” he had told you.

You were eager to take part, until you realised the large scale of the project. You had to speak for half an hour, non-stop, about the same subject you were writing about in your dissertation - yours being a division of Nuclear and Particle Space Physics. Worst of all, it was situated in a theatre in the west end of London - as if you didn’t need to feel even more inferior. You had six months to prepare your speech and background slides, and you threw yourself into it.

The project became a welcome distraction from your life at the moment, as, that December, your mother was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer. You didn’t tell anybody, not even your housemates, instead filling your emptiness inside with uni work, taking on every project or extra credit assignment you could. Your grades prospered, and you quickly became a straight-A student in every assessment. You somehow managed to balance this with the gut-wrenching visits home every weekend, to see your mum. Everyone admired your tenacity and effort with your work, and some people even became jealous of your success, yet they didn’t know the emotional turmoil going on inside your head, as your mother became sicker and sicker.

What you failed to consider was how quickly news spread in Llandudno, and, only minutes after you were told your mum was in the hospice, your phone lit up with a call from Van. You declined the call at first, as you got in your car, ready to make your final 3 and a half hour drive to Llandudno. Once your mother passed away, you had no further plans of returning. There was nothing left for you there.

But, then again, there was Van.

As his call lit up your screen once more, you connected your phone to your car’s Bluetooth system, and answered the phone.

“Y/N!” Van’s voice boomed through your speakers.

Quickly, you turned the volume down, forgetting how loudly you had The National playing on your last journey back to Oxford from seeing your mum. You had taken to turning it up as loudly as you could on your way back from visiting, to drown out your sobs.

“Y/N,” Van almost whispered, “I had no idea, I’m, I’m so sorry-“

“Van.” you said, his name almost croaky in your throat as you say it for the first time in years, “It’s not your fault.” “I should have called earlier, I just, I don’t know, I just didn’t want to think about ya. I’ve been missing you.”

You pulled over into a lay-by. If you were going to have an emotional conversation, you did not want to risk crashing the car over it.

“Van,” you mumbled, “I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, I just-“ his voice trailed off, “I want to see you.”

You sniff, holding back tears, “Well today might be your lucky day. I’m two hours away.”

“Hardly very lucky though, what with your mum-“ he checked himself, “I wish this wasn’t, I don’t know, I wish the circumstance wasn’t as bad.”

“That’s just life, innit.” you sniffed, trying to force yourself to smile, “How’s things with you?”

You started your car again as Van began to tell you about Catfish, and how they’re on the cusp of getting a deal, and how well they’re getting on.

“People know us, Y/N, it’s mad. They say stuff to us like, put that one on the album, or don’t bother with that one, it’s shit. It’s mental.”

You spoke to Van for most of the drive, until you got to Wrexham.

“My phone’s dying, love, I need to go,” he said, sadly, “Where can I meet you? Mine?”

“What do you mean?” you replied, “You’re home?”

“I am now I know you need me.”

You spent two days by your mother’s bedside as she slowly passed away. You had been preparing for this for months, but there was one eventuality that you hadn’t prepared for, and that was a new kind of relationship with Van.

After your mum passed on, you had every intention of returning to Oxford, but Mary and Bernie insisted upon you staying at the B&B. You lived there for two months after obtaining special permission from uni, and you spent nearly every waking hour with Van. It soon became every sleeping hour as well, because it would be nighttime when the grief would suffocate you. Van held you in his arms, and it felt as if he was gently squeezing the broken parts of your heart back together. In the daytime and evenings, you would follow Van around to gigs, and you realised he was right about Catfish - they really were becoming popular, and the band who once played covers in bars were now getting their own following, and recognition for the songs Van spent countless hours writing in his bedroom.

You didn’t know initially, but you became his muse. One day, Van went out to rehearse at Benji’s, and you stayed home, catching up on some lectures you’d asked your friends to video for you. However, after two hours studying, your mind began to wander, and your eyes were drawn to a leather-bound notebook on Van’s dresser. Against your better judgement, you opened the book, to find some half-finished lyrics and songs which Van hadn’t played to you yet. This was unusual; he’d played nearly every song he’d written to you in the time you’d been staying with him. You read the unfinished lyrics carefully.

“Love her from the get-go/pick her up from Heathrow/whenever she needs me” - was this about that time when you were 16 and he drove for hours to come and get you?

“I wanna make it my business, I wanna make you my problem” - was this about how you had told him not to worry about you, and you’d deal with your grief yourself?

You engrossed yourself in the fragments of songs written in the notebook. You knew some, such as Cocoon - which Van had played to you before - were about ex-girlfriends. However, it was the ones you hadn’t heard before which intrigued you the most - a couple of songs called ASA and Collide. You only twigged his romantic feelings for you after you turned the page to see your name written with love hearts around it, paired with doodles of what looked like you. Stood next to doodles of him. Your name and his, written in a heart, then crossed out, then rewritten another ten times.

Your heart plummeted, and then did somersaults. Did Van feel the same way as you did? You traced his handwriting of your name with your index finger, engrossed in the way his pen must’ve danced across the page, broadcasting his thoughts to the outside world. Well, not the outside world, as this notebook was Van’s. Private. You sighed, feeling guilty, and snapped the book shut.

As you turned around to gently place the notebook back where you found it, you noticed a figure out of the corner of your eye. Oh, shit. It was Van.

“Oh my God, Van,” you stuttered, “I’m so sorry, I knew it was private, I shouldn’t have looked, I-“

“Y/N,” Van replied, calmly, “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I promise.”

“Is it true?” you asked, quietly, “The things you write in here, are they true?”

“Depends what things you’re talking about.”

“Love her from the get-go? Pick her up from Heathrow?” you questioned, “Are they about me?”

Van blushed bright red, and took a step towards you.

“It’s true.” he confirmed.

You wasted no time in wrapping your arms around his waist, and he pulled your head into his chest. You inhaled deeply - Van always smelled nice.

“I love you too.” you mumbled into his jumper.

He responded simply by stroking the top of your head.

The next few weeks were spent exchanging stolen glances, and secret kisses when nobody was looking. Cuddling him a little closer in bed. A cheeky hand up your top when you lay together. Your hand on his thigh when driving around to gigs.

It wasn’t long before people started noticing, however. Larry was one of the first to twig, when he caught you and Van sharing the same cigarette on the balcony, snuggled under Van’s jacket together as the typically Welsh rain bounced off the pavements. Obviously, he told Benji, Bob, and Billy, and the news then spread like wildfire around the town, despite Van’s quiet threats of “chucking you in that fucking pond again, you little prick”. Van’s parents claimed to have known since you moved in, however you suspected it was old Mrs Perry next door who told them.

You liked being Van’s girl. He would get oddly protective of you, not letting you walk alone at night, making sure you had a jacket if it was raining. He would look you in the eye every once in a while at gigs, and wink at you. Whenever you were feeling down about your mum, he’d hold you in his arms and the world would seem to be a less cold and cruel place. He loved when you wore certain outfits, and he would let you wear his favourite jeans and hoodies that he didn’t even let Larry borrow. He’d learn the guitar chords of your favourite songs, just so he could play them to you.

He was the perfect boyfriend, and you dreaded having to go back to uni and leave him.

“So where even is Oxford Uni?” Van asked, getting into the passenger side of your car, “Somewhere down south?”

“Yes, Van, it’s in Oxfordshire. Above London, but below Birmingham.” you repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time.

He reached over to kiss the tear which raced down your cheek as you pulled out of his parents’ driveway. You glanced in your rear-view mirror to see Mary and Bernie waving enthusiastically, looking as proud as your own mother did when you drove off to Oxford for the first time.

“They’re just happy because they can say I went to Oxford.” he chuckled, in an attempt to cheer you up. You didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry, baby.” he said, tenderly, “We’ll be okay. I love you.”

“I know, I just feel, I don’t know-“ you sniffed, trying to suppress the lump in your throat, “I feel guilty for taking you away from everything like this.”

“C’mon, Y/N, we talked about this,” Van sighed, “I’m only staying until after your speech thingy, and if I don’t like it, I can go back, and I’ll visit you every weekend and all that jazz. Stop stressing, please, babe.”

You simply nodded your head as you pulled out onto the main road. Van fiddled with the stereo.

“This is a lot newer than the one in my van,” he said, his tongue poking out in concentration, “How do you get the radio?”

You pressed a few buttons on the steering wheel, shaking your head. “You won’t get a signal. Here, try a CD.”

Van put in your Arctic Monkeys Whatever People Say I Am That's What I’m Not CD.

“Still think our demos are better.” he quipped, as The View from the Afternoon began to play.

“You’re gonna struggle being away from the band for all this time.” you sighed, sadly.

“I’ve got me guitar and notebook!” he replied, cheerily enough, “What more could I need?”

“Uh, your bassist, lead guitar and drummer?” you joked back to him.

As you drove back through North Powys, Van fell asleep, and you felt a warm sensation in your heart. Although your world as you knew it had crumbled in the past few months, you had Van. He was all you needed.

You were right about Oxford - Van hated it. He hated being away from the band, he hated the lack of underage drinking and antisocial behaviour, he hated the accent. But he loved you, and that was what made him stay. He slept in your bed in halls, much to the disgust of your flatmates, who made it clear that they didn’t consider him good enough for you.

“I mean, him?” Natalie said, her nose wrinkling, “What does he do?”

“What’s his haircut all about?” Molly jeered.

You tried your best to persuade them to be on Van’s side. “I told you, he’s in a band! They’re really good as well! And I love his hair!”

Although they never said anything to his face, Van knew your roommates didn’t like him. He had unspeakable nicknames for them as well, and he’d loudly use them on the phone to Larry every evening. Despite him claiming he was happy here, as long as you were together, you knew he missed being on the road with the band. University life was too structured for Van, too organised. The only part he liked was the student parties which would happen every Friday night, but he even wasn’t the same when drunk, without his buddies. There was no hilarious banter, no casual arson, no recreational drug use. Well, there was weed, but you knew Van and the boys liked something a bit stronger on some of those heavier nights.

However, partying aside, the most important part was the fact that you were prepared for your speech, which took place two weeks after you and Van moved back to Oxford. He sat right at the front of the theatre, looking somewhat out of place next to the clean-cut parents, professors, and other downright nerds that had come along to support the speakers. Despite his clear misplacement amongst the scholars, Van was the best supporter in the whole theatre, and he cheered the loudest for you after your speech, which went perfectly, due to all the hard work and preparation you’d put in. You didn’t bother telling him that it wasn’t a football match or a concert, and it really didn’t matter how loudly you clapped, as you were so grateful for his support.

Van also made an effort with your friends, telling them how good their speeches were. Sophie and Julian quickly made friends with Van after he tried his best to express an interest in their joint speech on Advanced Quantum Mechanics. They seemed slightly surprised that he was in a band.

“So, what do you do?” asked Julian, politely.

“Me? I’m the lead singer of a class band,” he replied, happy someone was finally striking up a conversation with him, “We’re right on the cusp of getting signed, me and me mates can’t believe it, we’ve grafted so long for it.”

“You’re in a band! That’s so cool!” Sophie smiled, “So is that like, your uni hobby? What degree are you doing?”

“Degree?” Van laughed, “I got kicked out of school at 15! I’m in the band, like, that’s me job!”

“Oh, wow!” Julian smiled, “Like Noel Gallagher?”

“Nah, I’m like a shit version of Mike Skinner,” he chuckled, “We’re called Catfish and the Bottlemen. You should check us out, we’re more popular up North than down here though.”

Your friends nodded enthusiastically, and you and Van turned around to head back to halls.

He sighed. “Y/N, I do really miss the band.”

Your heart sunk. You knew Van wouldn’t last long in Oxford, but you didn’t quite want to believe he wasn’t happy here. You loved being with him all the time, but also being at uni. Part of you wanted to ignore the fact he wasn’t happy, and keep him here until your degree was finished, however, you knew that would be like keeping an eagle inside a cage. Van was the type of person to get cabin fever; he liked to be on the road all the time, waking up in a different place every day. He needed to spread his wings and fly - he hated the normality and routine of uni.

“Stay till the holidays?” you pleaded, as you walked back to the flat.

“When’s that?” Van replied, deep in thought.

“Middle of June, just another month? Please, Van?” you almost begged.

“I’ll try my best, it’s just, the band need me and I miss Larry and I hate this tiny flat and doing the same thing every day and the people and-“

“Van, just stop.” you sighed, exasperated, “Before you say something you regret.”

You entered the flat with an atmosphere between you that could be cut with a knife. You headed to bed, and you heard Van going into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. You tried to snuggle under the duvet, but you could never sleep without him by your side, so you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. You knew when you came back that Van would have to go home, but you desperately didn’t want him to.

About 5 minutes later, you saw Van coming into the bedroom, and quickly closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. You sensed him taking off his jeans and shirt, and the bed moved under his weight as he got in beside you. Usually, when he wrapped his arms around your waist, you would wriggle closer to him, but, tonight you rolled over and faced the other way. You heard him sigh, and although your heart was breaking and you longed to be held, your anger and sadness at the fact he was leaving meant that you couldn’t bring yourself to be close to him.

You slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning, having nightmares about Van breaking up with you because you didn’t allow him to go home and do what he loved. The guilt ate you up inside, and you found yourself snuggled into his chest by 3am. He stroked your back and kissed the top of your head, whispering to you that he’d stay if you needed him to. However, you told him he needed to go back - he needed to be happy. You remember falling asleep with tears running down your cheeks and into Van’s chest.

The next morning, you woke up to Van sat at the end of your bed, strumming a few chords on the guitar.

“What’re you playing?” you croaked, pulling yourself up.

“Just sorting out the rhythm for one of the new songs.” he replied softy, not looking up from the guitar.

“Van, I was thinking-“

“Yeah?”

“I’m thinking you should go back today.” you said, seriously, “I’ll help you pack your things, and I’ll drive you home this afternoon.”

Van set the guitar down on the carpet, and paused for a moment. “I don’t want you driving me home, love, you’ve got your finals in a few weeks and I don’t want you missing out on study time.”

“I don’t mind, Van, I really don’t-“

“Y/N,” he took your hand, “I love you so much, but, please, I can get the fucking train, okay?”

You nodded, as he disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a cup of tea in your favourite mug. You smiled as he kissed your forehead.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, okay, but I’ll phone you every night, I promise.” he told you.

“Every night, even when you’re playing gigs and touring, like a rockstar?” You meant for this to sound jokey, but it came out as bitter and resentful.

“Y/N, I said I promised, okay?” Van snapped.

You placed the tea down on your bedside table and started taking Van’s clothes out of your wardrobe and putting them in his suitcase.

“Y/N, it doesn’t have to be like this-“

“Like what? We always said you would leave after my speech, it’s the next day, so it’s time for you to go back.”

“I meant, you know, between us,” he continued, his voice getting louder, “I’m not breaking up with you! I’m just going back home, where I belong. I don’t fit in here, not one bit!”

“I know, I know.” you said, softly, “I’m sorry, I know you have to go, I’m being selfish. It’s like when you find a mouse as a kid and you keep it in a box under your bed and your mum tries to tell you to put it back outside, because it’s an animal and it needs to be free, but you don’t want to because you quite liked its company and-“

“Shh,” Van stroked your back as you choked back the tears, “After finals, you can come up and live with us for the summer, you’ll graduate, you can get a job, we’ll get a flat, it’ll be fine.”

“A little cottage by the sea?” you sniffed.

“If that’s what you want,” he replied, “I’ll always be on the end of the phone, whenever you need me.”

Van left, and, after you waved until the whole train had disappeared from your sight, you got in your car, turned up The National, and sobbed as hard as you did when your mum passed away. A month passed, during which you called Van every morning and evening, and texted him throughout the day, whenever you weren’t studying. You did manage to get through finals, after having worked your socks off.

Van had informed you on the phone that he’d been touring with Catfish, and they were getting so close to being signed. They had been called a few times by various record labels and were starting to get big, playing proper gigs of their own. You were ecstatic for him, albeit jealous that you were stuck studying while he was on the road. Your mind cast back to fond memories of being 16, driving around with no real destination, although Van assured you that touring at age 21 was very different.

Finally, the 18th of June arrived, and you packed your bags into your car and followed many of the cars, mostly driven by parents, out of Oxford and began your journey back up to Llandudno. You had been stopped at traffic lights for about thirty seconds when you noticed something shiny on your dashboard. It was a CD, and you instantly recognised Van’s scrawled handwriting on the front of the disc.

Listen to this and think of me, Van xxx

You smiled as you put the disc into your car’s stereo, and ASA - a song Van would play to you on many evenings when you were studying - started playing through the speakers. What made it extra special was the fact that he’d written it about you.

The four hours and eighteen minutes it took to get to Abbey House B&B were the longest of your life. You cursed every red light and traffic jam, and drove at the speed limit wherever you could. You just wanted to be in Van’s arms.

You didn’t even bother to park your car straight in the B&B’s carpark, just dumping it between two spaces. You grabbed the flowers you’d brought for Mary and the beers for Bernie, and inhaled sharply, bracing yourself for seeing Van. Your heart both fluttered and pounded at the same time as you marched towards the front door, your black Vans (you hadn’t put them on because they were Van’s namesake - they were your favourite shoes to drive in) pounding the tarmac. No sooner had you rung the bell than you were enveloped in Van’s arms - he lifted you up and held you close into his chest. The second he put you down, he kissed your lips passionately.

“Van, stop, you’re crushing the stuff-“ you giggled, between kisses.

“Where’s my present?” he complained, childishly.

You pointed to your handbag.

“Later.” you whispered, and he grinned. That would shut him up for a while.

“Y/N, love, it’s so good to see you!” Mary greeted you enthusiastically from behind Van in the doorway.

You handed her the flowers and her face lit up, as she handed them to Bernie to put in a vase. She hugged you almost as tightly as Van, and you breathed in the soft scent of her washing powder. Bernie greeted you with a firm handshake and a smile, and you handed him the beers, much to his approval. Van and his family felt like home.

Many hugs were exchanged that evening - between you and Van, you and Mary, you and Bernie, or Van and his parents. You initially sat having a beer with Van while his parents attended to the guests, however they later joined you for a glass of wine and a catch-up.

Mary and Bernie went up to bed at about half ten, so you and Van made the kitchen your zone, where you set up some music from your phone. You put your favourite Spotify playlist on shuffle as Van backed you up against a cabinet and kissed you with an undying passion. His hand up your top, your hand around his waist, lost in the moment. That was until Lemonworld by The National began to play. You went to hit skip, as this song reminded you of coming home from visiting your mum, and then all the feelings hit at once. What were you doing back in Llandudno, the town in which your mother died, drinking, snogging your childhood best friend, having fun? You shouldn’t be here.

You pulled away from the kiss.

“What’s up, baby?” Van whispered huskily.

“I can’t, this song-“

“Shhh.” he put a finger to your lips, and pulled you up so you were stood upright. He tipped your head up with his index finger, so you were looking him in the eye.

“Can I have this dance?” he asked, sincerely.

You nodded, as you followed his step around the large kitchen, being careful not to knock over any utensils or ornaments, in order not to wake the guests. The dance ended with sloppy kisses down your neck, and a heart full of love rather than sadness.

At around midnight, the lads joined you, Larry, of course, bringing the weed. He was accompanied by Benji and Bob.

“Where’s Billy?” you asked, concerned.

“Oh, he left the band for ‘personal reasons’ a few weeks back,” Van said between taking drags of the joint, “I didn’t tell you because I thought he was talking shite, but he’s gone.”

“Oh.” you replied, quite shocked.

“But we’re getting a new guitarist!” Benji announced.

“His name’s John and he’s a Geordie,” Bob told you, “A class guitarist, and a great lad, according to me cousin that is.”

You nodded in approval, as you settled into Van’s lap. As you smoked and drank, you felt yourself and Van rising higher and higher within your own, untouchable bubble. This was what you’d been waiting for all these months.

You don’t quite remember the boys going home, but they must have, as you and Van woke up in his bed in a quiet house. You went downstairs to read a note left by Mary.

Gone to IKEA with Dad for some new furniture for room 3, back at about 4pm xxx

“Looks like we’ve got the house to ourselves for a couple of hours, McCann.” you called, seductively.

“Sounds good,” Van appeared behind you wearing nothing but his jeans, “But there’s something I have to show you first.”

You followed him back into the bedroom, and climbed back into the warm bed. Van sat on the end of the bed, and picked up the acoustic guitar which often laid strewn on his bedroom floor.

“This song’s called Heathrow.”

He strummed the guitar gently a few times before singing the first lyric.

Love her from the get-go

Pick her up from Heathrow

Whenever she needs me

Watch her on the West End

Pepper up her best friends

Whenever she needs me

She was a different league

When I was nothing much

Meet her when the tour's up

Hug her like her Mother would

Whenever she needs me

Snog her in the kitchen

Dance with her to Lemonworld

Whenever she needs me

She was a different league

When I was nothing much

You found yourself in tears by the end of the song. You threw your arms around Van’s shoulders, and kissed his bare neck.

“You like it?” he asked.

“I love it. And you.”

#Catfish and the Bottlemen #catb #VanFiction #vanfic #van mccann #fanfiction #fanfic #band fic

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