dark-and-kawaii · 6 months ago
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Your doodle of Haarlep on a leash is 😙🤌. Very tasty. But bold of you to assume the incubus wouldn't go on hands and knees to crawl towards you before coming to rest between your legs (or crawling on top of you if you're laying down). 😏
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You mean like this ( •̀ω •́ )!?
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speechlessxx · 5 years ago
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Newfound Family (Chris Evans x Reader)
REQUEST: Could you write a chris evans x reader where the reader has a really bad relationship with her family and never talks to them so she doesnt understand the closeness between chris and his mom and shes just kinda weirded out (angst and then fluff) from @rororo06​
Hope you enjoy <3
Warning: bad family relationship, language (but not really lol), bad writing
Word Count: 1.9k (I got carried away with this)
Feedback is appreciated!
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Chris didn’t have to be a genius to know that you were nervous. From the way your thumbs fiddled against one another to the way your leg anxiously bounced as you sat in the passenger seat. It was obvious. 
“You alright?” He asked, glancing over to you as he drove. You let out a hum in response. He chuckled, reaching over and taking your closest hand in his, raising it to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand, a small smile on his face. “It’s okay, (Y/N). It’s just my family.”
“Just your family?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “Chris, I think your grip on reality is a little loose.”
“Don’t be scared to meet them,” Chris shook his head, the grin on his face got wider. “They’ll love you.”
“And if they don’t?” 
“Guess you’re walking home, then.” You scoffed at his response, pulling your hand from his. “I’m kidding!”
“I’m not.”
“They’ll love you,” he reassured as he took your hand back. 
You frowned, losing yourself in your own head. You thought back to your family. You’ve been estranged for so long. You don’t even remember the last time you spoke to your parents. The last interaction you had with a blood relative was a small “happy birthday” comment on your sibling’s Instagram post a year ago. They didn’t even bother to respond.
Your upbringing wasn’t like how it was in the movies. Your parents weren’t the kindest people. You were pushed to be the best, so that they could flaunt your successes as their own. However, that didn’t save you from the mishaps. 
If you were one point off from a perfect score, you were sent to your room without dinner. If you defended yourself, you were whooped and called disrespectful. If you spoke in a way that they didn’t appreciate, you were locked outside the house. 
You spent years trying to make yourself their perfect child, but they always found a flaw. 
They wanted you to become a doctor. They talked highly of you when you received your acceptance letter to Stanford University. They were willing to pay the expensive tuition just so they can brag about you to their snobby friends. 
However, you got accepted to your dream school for your passion. It was what you wanted to do. You were even gifted scholarship though it didn’t cover all the expenses. 
Ultimately, you decided to do something for yourself for once - to make yourself happy. But that meant your parents cut you off completely. 
You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even hear Chris say, “after this, I should meet your family.” You nearly choked. 
“Um, I’ll have to see when my parents are free,” you muttered as you watched him pull into the family home. 
“Just let me know. I’ll clear my schedule,” Chris smiled as he withdrew the key from the door. He quickly jogged over to your side of the car to open your door. You quietly thanked him as you both walked towards the front door. 
Without even pressing the doorbell, the door swung open to reveal his mother. She had a big smile on her face as she engulfed her son in a hug. 
“It’s been too long!” She said letting him go. His mom put her hands on his cheeks, giving them a squeeze. “Sweetheart, I forget that you’re so handsome!” 
“Mom!” Chris blushed as he playfully swatted her hands away. When he finally got her to get off of him, a hand found its way around your waist. He pulled you towards his mom with a smile. “Ma, this is (Y/N), my girlfriend.” 
“Hello, (Y/N)!” His mom beamed, immediately wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a hug much like the one she just gave her son. 
You let out an awkward laugh as you patted her back. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re even more gorgeous in person!” She complimented. You blushed, muttering a thank you. “Come inside! C’mon, don’t be shy.” 
You let out a shaky breath as she slung her arm over your shoulder, bringing you into the house with Chris at tow. You felt your body tense up at the touch and it didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend who walked behind you.  She showed you both into the living room where children played while women, Chris’s sisters you assumed, were talking on the sofas. 
“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Evans,” you forced a smile though the compliment was genuine. 
“Mrs. Evans... please, call me Lisa.” Mrs. Evans - Lisa shook her head as she finally let you go. “Shanna, Carly, this is (Y/N), Chris’s girlfriend.” The two sisters smiled and greeted you as Lisa exited to the kitchen.
Chris’s hands snaked around your waist again. He leaned into your ear and whispered, “hey, you okay?” You nodded. He didn’t believe you but didn’t want to push you past your comfort zone. So instead, he switched the topic. “Scott, here?” 
Shanna was the one who answered. “You know him, he likes to make an entrance.” Carly and Chris laughed. Chris released you and led the both of you to sit on the sofas. The three siblings immediately began to converse.
Laughter filled the living room as jokes were thrown around. The children were very sweet, running up to Chris and you asking to be held by your boyfriend. 
After around 20 minutes or so, the front door swung open to reveal another man. “The favorite has arrived!” He shouted with his arms open as the children screamed in delight, running over to their other uncle. 
“More like the least favorite one has arrived late,” Chris jokingly said, pouting as the little one in his lap jumped off to join his cousins and uncle.
“Heard that!” Scott called out.
“You were supposed to!” Chris quipped in response. The Evans siblings all began to laugh at the exchange.
Chris’s family was so close with one another. Their interactions were foreign to you. 
A room full of laughter would’ve been a room full of tension if it were your family. The sarcastic but playful jabs at each other would’ve resulted in consequences that normally came with a belt. A normal (L/N) get together would’ve been a competition as to who had the best life - who was the most successful child. The hugging, the compliments, even the smiles that the Evans threw your way made you uneasy. 
“Excuse me,” you muttered to Chris, squeezing his bicep before finding your way into an empty hallway. You took deep breathes as you tried to calm yourself, leaning against the wall.
In a way, you were hurt. This is what a family was really like. It wasn’t the need to be the best. It wasn’t being in a constant state of fear. It wasn’t suffocating in the tension at the dining table. It was happy. 
“Hey, you okay?” You heard Chris ask as he walked up to you. You looked up at him with watery eyes, shaking your head. He engulfed you in a big hug, rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you. “What’s wrong?” 
“It’s stupid,” you rolled your eyes at yourself as you put your head on his shoulder.
“If it’s bothering you, then it’s not stupid. Was it my mom? When she hugged you? I’m sorry... She’s just a very friendly person.” He rambled but you shook your head, pulling away from him. “Then what is it?”
“Your family is perfect,” you sighed. 
“We’re nowhere near perfect,” Chris scoffed. “But we’re happy.”
“Exactly,” you said. “You guys are happy. You all live near each other because you want to live near each other. You all crack jokes and laugh... and you hug each other?” You chuckled at yourself, realizing how stupid you sounded. 
“That’s just a family, babe.”
“My family isn’t like that,” you admitted. “Everyone’s vicious. They’ll find something you aren’t good at even if you make sure you’re the best at everything. They’ll pick at your insecurities just because they can. I don’t think I’ve ever heard my mom laugh or had my siblings in the same room before an argument erupted.” You gestured towards the living room as loud laughter followed after a joke Scott made. “My family doesn’t do that.” 
You told him about your childhood. You explained your punishments when you did something your parents deemed was “wrong”. You told him about when you finally stood up for yourself, you were cut off completely. You struggled to pay your student debt, but you managed it because you wanted to prove your parents wrong. 
You unloaded your familial baggage on your boyfriend and he listened. He always listened and gave you his undivided attention, a trait the members of your family didn’t have.
Chris exhaled through his nostrils, his brows furrowed, as he realized the reason why you didn’t talk about your siblings as much as he did. He recalled all the moments were you dodged questions about your parents. He even remembered a time when a friend of his complimented you about your success in your career and you were started by it. 
“Then screw them.” Chris responded after your rant. You frowned at him. “If they don’t want to be in your life, then screw them. You’re right. That’s not a family... But baby,” he smiled, pulling you into him, “what’s mine is yours. My family most definitely can be yours, too. I love you.” 
You gave him a soft smile, standing on your tip toes to peck him on the lips. “I love you, too.” 
“Now, c’mon, and spend some time with our family.” You smiled at his words, taking his hand as he lead you back into the living room. 
You quickly adjusted as you pushed your tainted family memories to the back of your head, allowing yourself to make new ones with Chris’s family. You got along well with his siblings and soon joined in on the Chris teasing. You even played with his nephews and nieces, who were convinced you were a Disney princess. 
His mother showed you Chris’s baby photos and the two of you gushed over how adorable he was. “What happened?” you joked with your boyfriend. He only responded by sticking his tongue out at you like a child. Even his dad was fond of you by the end of the visit. 
-=+=-
You smiled at the memories you made as you finished up getting ready for bed. Chris was sitting at the foot of your shared bed and you walked over to him, taking a seat. You gave your boyfriend a kiss and a tight hug. “Thank you for today,” you smiled. 
“I told you they’d love you,” Chris laughed with his arms around you tightly. “Not as much as I love you, though.” 
“Dork,” you laughed, lightly smacking his chest before you got into bed. 
“I’m gonna go put water in Dodger’s bowl. You need anything?” Chris asked. You shook your head as you fluffed your pillow. 
Chris closed the bedroom door, running over to his coat that he hung over his desk chair. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the black velvet box was still tucked in the pocket. 
“She’s the one?” His mom asked him as you were saying your goodbyes to his nieces, who were sad that the ‘Disney princess’ was leaving. 
A big, goofy smile found its way onto Chris’s face as he nodded. “Oh, yeah, most definitely.”
“Where’s the ring?” His dad asked. Chris fumbled in pocket for the box before showing it to his parents discreetly. “Excellent choice.”
“I know it might seem early,” Chris began. “We’ve been together for a year and a couple months now, but ... I just know.” 
“Then go for it,” his mom encouraged. “She’ll be a great addition to the family.” 
Chris beamed as he slid the box back into his pocket. “I know.” 
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danfanciesphil · 7 years ago
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I am *loving* your prompts!! I love the way you capture the boys, Ellen. :) I'd love to see something where they're out of their element (being forced to drive, or camping, or a blackout, or outside of the city, etc) Hope you're having a fabulous Parisian day, lovely!!! :)
Thank you sweetheart! I am enjoying all the practise enormously! Just sorry it’s taking so long. 
Ok so your prompt is a little broad, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve run away with it a bit! Hopefully this is along the lines of what you were looking for. Much love, angel! xxx
Got a prompt for me? Click here! (Please be aware that due to an abundance of prompts, your prompt may take a few days to complete - but thank you all for submitting so far!)
Dan and Phil are indoor people. 
It’s something they really, really appreciate about one another. A basis for their friendship, in a way. And then, later, their relationship. 
Their perfect weekend would probably consist of very similar things - video games, Deliveroo, pyjamas, Netflix, and staying up laughing about stupid memes or playing board games until the wee hours. 
This is how most of their weekends are spent, in fact. 
However, occasionally they are forced outside of their comfort zone. They don’t budge easily, as they are very happy in their socially reclusive, hermit-crab ways, much to their friends’ chagrin. 
Usually, when they have to spend their weekends elsewhere, it’s unavoidable. 
Like this weekend, for example. Caspar Lee is having a birthday. Well, he has one every year, so it’s not exactly unusual. This year however, he’s decided to organise a camping trip. 
In other words, he’s decided to single-handedly create Dan and Phil’s worst nightmare, and invite them to it via a Facebook event. 
When Dan had first seen it, he’d snorted with laughter, showing Phil. Phil also rolled his eyes, amused at the idea of accepting an invitation so hideous to them both, and Dan had moved on with his life. 
He figured he’d whip up some excuse later - feign a fictional conference or event of some sort - and tell Caspar that, regrettably, he and Phil would have to pass. Instead, Dan just forgot about the whole thing, and then it was two days before Caspar’s birthday, and Dan received a text. 
From: CasparTo: Dan13:24pmHey Dan! We’re leavingat 5 on Friday. Are u andPhil driving up? x
From: DanTo: Caspar13:26pmWhat? Driving where? x
From: CasparTo: Dan13:28pmLake District lol Didn’t u read the event? 
Dan’s blood runs cold, and all of a sudden he remembers everything. He jumps up from the sofa, sprinting towards Phil’s room in a sudden panic. 
Phil is sat on his bed eating crisps and scrolling through his laptop; at Dan’s entrance, he looks up, frowning in confusion. 
“What’s wrong?”
“Fuck, Phil we forgot about Caspar’s thing.”
Phil looks confused for a moment, then his eyes grow round and wide. “What?! The camping thing? I thought you said no to that!” 
“I thought I did too!” Dan cries in despair. “I must’ve forgotten.” 
*
That’s how, two and a half days later, Dan finds himself in the passenger seat of a rented Land Rover, watching warily as Phil navigates the rural countryside of Northern England, despite the fact Dan knows for certain that he hasn’t driven a car in years. 
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Dan asks for the fifth time. 
Phil side-eyes him crossly. “I know you’re a paranoid person, but you’re supposed to have total trust in me, remember?” 
“I do, I do.” Dan lies, turning to look out of his window, trying to find something to distract himself amongst the flat, endless bracken stretching out to meet the greying sky. “How fucking far away is this place, anyway?”
Phil sighs, glancing at the Sat Nav on the dashboard. “It says we’ve got another hour at least.” 
“Ugh,” Dan grunts, lifting his feet up onto the dashboard. 
Phil looks at them in silent disapproval, no doubt thinking about the fact that this car needs to be returned in pristine condition if they want their deposit back. 
“Maybe it’ll be fun,” Phil suggests, shrugging. 
The atmosphere has been pretty tense between them ever since they found out they’d have to go through with this debacle. Camping, in the wilderness, with five other boys. Louise had initially said she’d come along, but has since pulled out due to ‘childcare issues’. 
Dan hates her a little bit for having such a good ‘last minute’ excuse. If he and Phil had a baby, they could’ve weaselled out of this thing too. Dan pauses at this peculiar thought, wondering where on earth it came from. 
If he and Phil were ever planning on adopting a child - which they have absolutely no current plans to do - they probably need to have a better reason than ‘using it as an excuse to get out of socialising’. 
“It’s gonna be so... laddy.” Dan complains, pouting. He fiddles with the knob of the radio, which is only receiving static, as they’re in the middle of effing nowhere. 
“We have alcohol,” Phil reminds him. “That might make it a bit better.” 
Dan nods vaguely, sighing. He has no right to be complaining, he knows, because it’s all his fault they’ve ended up having to do this. He’s the one that forgot to reply to Caspar’s invite. For some reason, Caspar didn’t invite Phil on the event, but neither of them thought much of that. It’s more or less assumed amongst any of their friends that if you invite one of them, you’re gonna get the other too. 
“I hope so.” Dan says, shifting into a position where he thinks he might be able to nap for a while. “If not we can just make out or whatever.” 
Phil chuckles, and it’s the last thing Dan hears for a bit. 
*
Perhaps the most surprising thing about this experience is that Phil seems to adapt to it with an ease that Dan literally could not have foreseen. They’d gone on a mega shop before they left London, packing the boot of their hire truck with a brand new tent, specially designed outdoor cooking utensils, sleeping bags, groundsheets, kindling for the fire... you name it, they bought it. 
Of course, Dan’s main concern was that he and Phil would flail about for hours trying to set up their stuff whilst Joe, Caspar, Josh and the others would whip out those protein enriched muscles and have their tents erected in two seconds flat. 
On the contrary, Phil launches himself into the task, and quite honestly blows the others out of the water with his prowess. 
He and Dan pull up to the spot Caspar had chosen just after the others, and hop out of the car to greet them all. Then, as the others begin unloading, Phil strolls around to the back of the truck, slinging the - heavy, bulky, complicated-looking - tent onto his back, and waltzes over to a spot near where Caspar has begun setting up. He looks over at Dan, stares at him, marvelling really, and calls: “Is here okay?”
Dan nods wordlessly, and Phil gets to work at once. He hammers the pegs, he threads the rods through the frame. He lays the groundsheet and carts the bundles of sleeping stuff through the front entrance. 
Dan just watches him, mouth agape. It’s strange that, despite the length of time he’s known Phil, intimately, the man still utterly astonishes him. 
“Voila!” Phil says after what can only have been fifteen minutes of work. He stands back from the tent, proud, and for good reason. “She’s ready.” 
Before Dan can speak, Joe and Caspar sling their arms around his shoulder, grinning at him. 
“Always pick a man who knows how to use his hands, eh Dan?” Caspar asks, jostling his shoulders. 
“I wonder who wears the trousers in this relationship...” Joe adds on, winking before wandering off towards his half-erected tent. 
Phil walks over to Dan then, smiling nervously. “Is it okay? I can make it a little straighter if you want.”
He’s taken his outer shirt off, and his arms are slightly dewy from the exertion of all the physical activity. His hair is ruffled by the cold, Yorkshire wind, and he’s breathing heavily. In other words, he looks kind of like sex on legs.
Dan stutters on his own breath for a moment before replying. 
“N-no, it’s- I really- you did a good j-job.” He gets out eventually, and Phil beams, clearly pleased. 
Phil pulls Dan towards him, right into his chest, and Dan just sort of melts there, his eyes falling closed as Phil’s thick, bare arms wrap themselves around him. 
He feels Phil press a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re teeth are chattering. Are you cold?” 
Dan hasn’t the heart to tell Phil that he’s just stuttering because he’s overwhelmed by Phil’s Heathcliff-esque ruggedness in the setting of this wild moorland landscape. Instead, he just nods silently, and Phil tells him he’s going to go and find Dan’s jumper in the car. 
*
By the second night, Dan has more or less surrendered himself to the wilderness. At first, having no showers, toilets, or other amenities was a difficult adjustment, but despite being a bit of a princess nowadays, Dan has in fact camped quite a bit in the past. Okay, so maybe camping at Reading Festival isn’t quite the same thing, but it’s still a tent, and sleeping outdoors, and slowly descending into a savage over time. 
They’ve hiked (not Dan’s choice of activity, duh) all day around the beautiful, raw and untamed land of the Lake District. They’ve even climbed a (smallish) mountain, atop which they’d stopped to guzzle the picnic they’d brought along. 
Normally, Dan would’ve hated it, and it certainly wasn’t what he’d call fun, but the views were immense and breathtaking, and there’s something about being here, amongst the undisturbed wilderness, that leaves one with a primitive sense of belonging to something bigger than oneself. 
He tries to explain this to the others, and they all laugh, of course. But it doesn’t matter. Phil squeezes his hand in acknowledgement, showing that he understands, even if it’s only a bit. 
They get back to the camp and crack open the beers, huddling around a campfire in their bedraggled states. None of them look their best in their rain macs, thick woollen jumpers and muddy walking boots, but it doesn’t matter. Nobody is filming them now. They snap a single photo for Caspar’s Instagram, then tuck their phones away. They’re no use out here, anyway. 
Dan is squeezed into one of the camping chairs they’ve brought along, on Phil’s lap. He’s tipsy and his face is pink and warm from the wind burn and the heat of the roaring fire they’ve created. He’s full of soup and hot dogs and marshmallows - camping food - and he’s surprised to find that he’s happy.
Phil’s arms are wrapped around his middle. It feels so safe, here, with him, despite the fact they’re a hundred miles or more from London, in a place they’ve never set foot before now. 
Silly games are played, drunken stories are exchanged, which leads to secrets being told, and a solemn pact that nothing will leave this spot. And then, it’s time for bed. 
Last night, Dan and Phil had slept restlessly, too cold to lift their arms from their sleeping bags let alone cuddle. Dan looks into Phil’s eyes as they extricate themselves from the chair, and he can tell, at once, that the same won’t be said for tonight. 
They stumble through the tent flap, giggling drunkenly, and fall onto one of the sleeping bags - Dan doesn’t remember whose is whose at this point. 
Phil is immediately attacking him with kisses, which makes Dan laugh harder, and he rolls them until Phil’s on top of him, though it’s hard to see what’s happening in the dark. 
They struggle with layers of clothing, pulling and prising at various fabrics in the pitch black, laughing uproariously at the whole affair because it seems so difficult they might as well give up the attempt. 
They don’t, though, and somehow they get there, naked and shuddering as they make love in the narrow confines of their two man tent, the sound of the furious wind whipping against the canvas outside. 
When it’s over, they crawl into one sleeping bag with some difficulty, the heat radiating off their naked bodies at once suffocating and not enough. Dan listens to the steady, fast pace of Phil’s breathing, and traces his lips with one hand. 
“Can’t believe you just Brokeback Mountain’d me,” Dan says, teasing, and Phil laughs.
“Couldn’t help myself.” He confesses, yawning. “Please don’t get murdered with a tyre iron.” 
Dan chuckles. “Fine. If you insist.”
“Home tomorrow.” Phil mutters, sounding sleepy. 
Dan snuggles towards him, more than happy to close his eyes as well after the copious amount of exercise he’s done today. 
“Hm,” Dan agrees. “Maybe you were right, though.”
Phil’s hand is at the base of his skull, his fingers trailing through the short, bristly hairs there. “Hm?” 
“Maybe camping isn’t so bad...” Dan says, feeling awkward about the confession. “Y’know,” he pauses, swallowing his embarrassment as best he can manage. “As long as I’m with you.” 
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poca-staks · 7 years ago
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Happy Birthday Despe!!
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Happy Birthday to my Sweets!! @desperatemurph You’re one of best friends, and I doubt my life would be the same without you. So here's your angst car crush fic inspired by your post. Don’t ever let me write something so angst again. lol, i almost had a meltdown. 
A Heaven for Two
After being in a car accident, Gold copes with the fact that he’s going to lose his wife and mother of their son.  
Rating: G Words: 3,400 Tags: Hurt and comfort, Angst with a happy ending.
He remembered peace. It felt like that exact moment right before taking the first sip of coffee in the morning. The fraction of a second of absolute quiet just as a diver plummets into the water from the diving board. Gold's never been skydiving. The thought of free-falling from a dangerous height was enough to make his stomach twist itself into a knot. But he imagined that there was peace to it. He was never a thrill-seeking person. But in that split second of their car being airborne, Gold considered taking skydiving lessons.
He could hear her voice now.
"Have you gone insane? What on earth has possessed you with the notion of doing something so foolish? I refuse to see my husband in a body bag."
Belle was daring in her own respect. As was he. Their idea of thrills was he and her staying up half of the night just to see who could outlast the other. She always won. Or deciding not to open the umbrella during a thunderstorm and jumping over the puddles while playfully running to their car. She would grab the handle, but he wouldn't allow her to enter yet. Instead, he touched her. Padding his hands under her soggy clothes and over the wet prickled skin of her shoulders and arms. Listening to her short pants, as her chest rose and fell in the rhythm of his favorite song, simply titled, Her.
The low rumble of thunder in the distant would startle her, but not for long. She never remained afraid whenever he was close. He closed in more and kissed her gently on the lips, wet with rainwater. It felt like they shared the same body, same temperature, same thoughts, and same desires. When he moved to kiss her neck, she could still taste him on the rain as it continued to pelt them with soft drops from the heavens. Belle wasn't cold anymore. On the contrary, while in his arms, she was on fire. A fire she would gladly let consume her.
If he were to make it out of this alive, he would give anything to live in that peace for the rest of his life with Belle. But who was to say they would survive this. The truck that hit their mid-size car was going at least 60 miles an hour at the time of impact. Their vehicle collided on solid ground with a thud and a heart-wrenching screech as the car slid across the pavement on its side.
The horn was blaring, and somehow, the turn signal came on. The green arrow blinked right with a steady tick-tock. Both airbags were deployed, and thankfully Belle's head rested safely on the passenger side one.
"Eh… What- what the- B-Belle-," He groaned in agony. He couldn't move his right leg or even feel it. His ribs ached and made it difficult to turn and unlatch his seat belt. Unthinking, he tried to reach out and touch her. Just to brush her hair from her face, to see if her eyes would open.
"Sir, I'm with the fire department. Just try to stay calm, and we will get you out as soon as possible."
"No- p-please. Belle first please." He tried to say. Everything hurt, even talking shot daggers into his ribcage.
"I'm sorry sir, but I have to get you out first. The woman passenger is unresponsive." The paramedic said.
"No!" Blinking away his concussion, he jerked the paramedic's hand from his seat belt. "Check her. Check on her. Sh- she's my wife."
Slowly he slipped away, and everything faded into darkness.
xox0xox
The beeping from the heart monitor woke him up suddenly. A hard, resonating migraine drummed in the back of his head, making him feel dizzy and light headed. The bright fluorescent light only added to the problem and blinded him, making it almost impossible to see beyond the glare. Then it all came flooding back to him. He was in a car accident, a bad one, from the looks of the cast and ace bandages wrapped around his right leg. But where was his wife? Where was Belle? Did the paramedics listen to him, and rescue Belle first?
He had to find her.
He began ripping off the tape that held down the IV in his arm, before simply snatching the IV needle out of his arm, wincing in pain as he did. He took the EKG monitors on his chest off and sent the machines blaring. A doctor barged in with two nurses following close behind and forced him back into the bed with restraint.
"Mr. Gold, you need to remain still. You just experienced a massive trauma, and your body is in shock." The doctor said.
"Where is Belle. Where is my wife?" He demanded while struggling to get out of the nurses' grasp.
"Mrs. Gold is in the ICU, and now isn't the best time for you to see her." The doctor said in that sickly dispassionate voice that all doctors had. Not an ounce of feeling could be felt in his tone.
His heart leaped. "The ICU? What's her condition?"
"It's been pretty touch and go so far, Mr. Gold. But right now, you need to be focused on rest and recovery. If Belle does make it through this, she would want you to be healthy." The doctor explained.
He wanted to cry. He wanted to know if they were doing everything possible to save his wife. But he knew he wouldn't find out anything with this doctor being so vague about everything.
"Let me see her." He said, this time calmly and without struggling to get up. The nurses let him go and stepped away from the bed.
The doctor sighed. "Mr. Gold-"
"Please Doctor, let me see her. I have that right. I have a right to see my wife." Gold said.
The Doctor groaned and scribbled something on his notepad before addressing the nurses. "Go get Mr. Gold a wheelchair, and take him to the ICU."
The nurses got him ready. They put him on a fresh hospital gown, patched up the hole in his arm from when he ripped out his IV, and gently helped him in the wheelchair, using soft pillows to elevate his right leg on the leg rest. There was pain during the process but not as much as he expected, assuming he was heavily medicated with painkillers.
They rolled him down a series of corridors and passed a dozen of nurses and doctors. He passed other patients who were being pushed in wheelchairs too, some on stretchers with hanging IV bags attached to their rolling bed.
Gold was never afraid of the stigma that came with hospitals, the blood, surgery, and death. But as he passed through the passcode required doors that led to the ICU, he instantaneously felt uneasy. The foreboding area was dimly lit, no sunlight penetrated this wing of the hospital, and everywhere he turned, he could see that all the patients were unconscious. It felt like he was staring at the veil. The veil between life and death. It felt forbidden, like he wasn't supposed to be there, like he wasn't supposed to see these people so close to death.
Finally, the nurse stopped wheeling him when they reached a private room. On the door, it read Gold, Belle and under that, it said, Please see charge nurse before entering.
"Ok Mr. Gold, this is your wife's room. Just tell the charge nurse to call me when you're ready to go back to your room." The smiling nurse said. "I'm Ruby by the way."
"Thank you, Ruby."
She pushed him in and closed the door behind her as she exited, closing off the couple from the rest of the dying world just beyond their door.
The sight he saw before him was enough to bring even the strongest man to tears. She laid there, unmoving, eyes closed, and pale as a napkin. She was hooked up to so many wires and cords. There was one in her hand, in the bend of her arm, on her chest, but the one that scared him the most was the breathing tube coming from her mouth.
It was life support.
Without that tube helping her, she wouldn't be here at all. It all hit him at once. He was going to be a widow. The light and love of his life was going to die, and he wouldn't be able to tell her how much he was going to miss her.
Perhaps this was just a precaution. She wasn't going to die. It was only a car accident. They happened all the time, and most people survived. He survived, surely, she would too.
He took her by the hand. It was cold and limp. "Sweetheart, if you can hear me, please wake up." He asked, but he didn't get a response, just the beep of her heart monitor.
"Belle please, its time to wake up. I know you're still here sweetheart. Just wake up, now, please."
No answer.
He kissed her hand. Belle always like that. She said it made her feel like a princess, and he would always reply that he was her most loyal servant. Maybe that was a lie too, he couldn't even protect her, and in fact, it was probably his fault she was clinging on to life. He was the driver; he should have been watching the road instead of gazing at her.
"So that's it, Belle?" he asked dropping her hand. "You're just going to leave me, alone, forever? I knew you never loved me. I mean, who could? Just look at me."
"Why would you do this to me, Belle? I never cared about love or feelings or any of that mushy stuff until you. Why show me how to love then take it all away. Why give me your heart then die?" He asked, but still nothing. She laid there motionless as the noisy life support machine hummed, expanding her chest and lungs with oxygen before deflating them.
"Are you even listening to me?" He asked, slightly tugging at her wrist. "Belle. BELLE."
"If not for me, wake up for Gideon. I can't raise him by myself. He needs his mother." He said. The thought of Gideon without his mother made him upset. "Think of your son, Belle. It's not just me you're leaving. What am I supposed to tell him when he cries out for you? Tell me. Damn it Belle, TELL ME!"
No answer.
He began to cry. His fallen tears dampening her hand and the thin hospital sheets below. Gideon was only three, too young to comprehend what happened to his mother. And when he became older, would he even remember her? Would he remember how she stayed up all night when he was sick, how she would rock him and loll him off to sleep with a lullaby. How bad she stressed herself out about his first birthday, just to make it perfect. Or how when Gideon was born, she threatened the nurse for trying to take him away from her.
"You'll be pulling back a stump if you try to take my son from me." She had said.
"B- but Mrs. Gold, you need to rest." The nurse said nervously.
"I'll have plenty of time to rest once I'm home. Gideon will stay with me."
Gold chuckled. "So you've decided on the name Gideon?"
"I think it's perfect for him, don't you?"
"I do."
It felt like an eternity since that happened, and now all he wanted to do was go back to that moment and relive it from the beginning. He would give anything if he could. Even his own life, if that meant Belle would live.
"What will it take for you to wake Belle?" he asked. "Money, jewelry, a bigger house? I can give you all that and more. You always said you wanted a new minivan. I can leave here, right now, and buy you the best, biggest, safest minivan. Will that be enough? Will you wake up now?"
She said nothing.
He tilted his head up, up to the ceiling, up to the heavens. He was never a religious person, but he did believe in a higher power. Maybe that was who he needed to speak to.
"God, or whoever is listening, please don't take my wife from me. Please don't take my light. I need her. And not just me, but Gideon too. Hell, the whole world." Belle was always able to brighten anyone's day with her cheerful disposition and optimism. She was a gift to the world, a heaven-sent angel. The world needed people like her.
"Give me a sign, God. Show me what I need to do. I'll donate all my money to charity. I'll volunteer. I'll do anything. Just don't take my wife from me."
Nothing. Just the steady monotone beeps from the machines.
He was foolish to think there was a God listening to his pleas. If there were a God, bad things wouldn't happen to good people, and it would have been him lying in bed with all those tubes and cords attached to him, not her. She was the angel, and he was the sinner. He was a cruel man, unsympathetic, and a lush. That was until he met Belle, who showed him the simple act of kindness. He found something God-like within her. She didn't care about his past because she saw the man behind his deception. She saw the man who needed to be loved.
He picked up her hand again and pressed it against his face. It felt like it was getting colder by the seconds. "Belle. Belle, I'm afraid. I'm scared Belle. I'm scared that I might do something that I shouldn't, and not only will Gideon be motherless, but he would be fatherless too."
"What will my life be like without you. What would it be like waking up every morning to an empty bed, and going to sleep every evening alone." He would probably have to sell the house. He couldn't stay in the house that once had so many joyous times. Gideon's Christmases, Thanksgiving, movie nights. The thought of Belle not being there anymore made him resent those beautiful moments.
He just had to accept it. There were no second chances when it came to death, and she wasn't coming back. He wasn't going to let this machine keep her alive either. This wasn't living. Living was running in the rain, staying up late together, and fussing over the decorations of Gideon's first Birthday party. This wasn't his wife. Belle was full of life, always seeking her next adventure. But the woman lying before him wasn't any of that. She was a husk, and Belle was gone.
"It's alright Belle. You don't have to fight anymore." He said squeezing her hand. "Just let go. I'll do my best to take care of Gideon. 'Raise him how you would want. He'll be a scholar, just like you. I promise sweetheart. I love you."
He pressed the red Nurse button that was attached to the railing of her bed. In minutes a Doctor and the nurse, who said her name was Ruby, walked in.
"I want to take her off the life support." Gold said, detached from reality.
"Are you sure Mr. Gold?" The Doctor asked.
Mr. Gold placed Belle's hand back down on the bed softly, making it look like she was undisturbed. "I've made my decision. Belle wouldn't want this."
"Mr. Gold please reconsider-," Ruby finally spoke up. It had looked like she'd been trying to say whatever it was for a while now.
"Ruby!" Doctor Whale said, dismissively. "That's enough. Mr. Gold is trying to cope with his loss. He doesn't need your false hope."
"No, let her speak," He told the doctor, before turning his attention to the nurse. "What is it you wish to tell me Ruby?"
Ruby looked at Dr. Whale timidly before explaining the reason for her outburst. "Belle- I mean, Mrs. Gold still has brain activity, and all her vital organs are still intact."
"What?" Mr. Gold blinked, trying to process what the nurse was saying.
"Yes, it's true, but she's hemorrhaging." The Doctor said disproving Ruby's theory. "And after two invasive surgeries, we haven't found the source of the bleeding."
Ruby shook her head. "That's because-"
"Ruby-," The doctor cut her off again before she could finish. "Mr. Gold, we have done everything we can do. I'm sorry about your wife. Truly I am."
"Stop interrupting her." Mr. Gold said. "Ruby, I'm listening."
"The Doctors and surgeons have only been looking for bleeding around the wound and her brain, but I think the hemorrhaging has nothing to do with the wound," Ruby explained.
"And where do you think the bleeding is coming from?" He asked.
"I may be wrong, but I think that Belle was pregnant, and the crash caused her to miscarriage," Ruby replied. "I can give her a pregnancy test."
"Yes Ruby, please." Mr. Gold said. If there was still a chance for Belle, this was it.
Ruby ran from the room and returned quickly with a specimen cup, panting and out of breath. She poured Belle's urine from her catheter and filled the cup up about halfway. She sealed it with a lid and gave it a good shake.
"So what's it say?" Gold asked, anxiously.
Ruby smiled, but it wasn't the kind of excited smile he was hoping for. It was a sympathetic smile. "She was indeed pregnant. But with the amount of blood loss, the baby is likely dead."
It was bittersweet news. He had lost a child, a child he didn't even know he had. But on the other hand, there was a chance that his wife would survive. It was like waking up from a nightmare only to have cold water thrown in his face. It was impact after impact. It was coming to terms with losing his wife only to be told that she was going to live, but a child they made together, would not.
"Thank you, Ruby."
"Get Mrs. Gold prepped for surgery." The Doctor said. "I'll go prepare the operating room."
"Yes Doctor."
After hours of waiting, praying, and explaining what happened to her father and close friends, Doctor Whale visited Gold's room.
"Mr. Gold," He said, sternly. "Belle is-"
Suddenly, Dr. Whale was pushed aside, and Ruby entered excitedly. "Has he told you yet?"
"No, I haven't." Dr. Whale answered. "But I'll let you do the honors, Ruby."
"Belle Is Fine!"
"S- she is?"
Ruby nodded. "She's going to be okay, and she's awake too."
If it weren't for him being in a slightly incapacitated state and his leg in a cast, Gold would have ran to his wife's room. His love was alive. She had pulled through this. She was going to be alright and so would their family.
Ruby and Doctor Whale helped transfer Mr. Gold to his wheelchair. Ruby informed him that since she wasn't in critical condition anymore, the staff had moved her from the ICU to a room adjacent to his. They rolled him out of his room and into the corridors of the infirmary. The room they took him to was bright with sunlight. It didn't even seem apart of the dreary hospital. In the bed was his wife, flipping through the tv channels, frowning at what was shown on the small mounted screen. She looked the opposite of the woman he saw only a few hours ago. Her color was back. The tube was gone. She was really alive.
She shifted and met his gaze with those blue eyes he'd miss so much and smiled. "I love you too."
END.
~~<~~@
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