#Frankie’s been through a lot the past year and is messed up because of it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moon-kn1ght · 4 years ago

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toes in the water

pairing: frankie morales x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: kindergarten should def be a warning, maybe also incredibly unvaried sentence structure? rated E for everyone :)

a/n: this is going to be a small series surrounding a single father frankie morales and reader who is a kindergarten teacher. semi-slow burning, super cute and will def have storage closet / after-hours classroom sex at some point. thank you @wyn-dixie for the beta and for quelling my anxieties about literally everything.

masterlist || tag form

Were you supposed to be using the kindergarten enrollment forms to sus out potential cute, single parents? No, definitely not.

But the process of going through the individual forms and comparing them to the database for possible clerical errors was tedious at best, and grueling at its worst. Sitting on those tiny kindergarten chairs, you and the other four members of your team of teachers had already rehashed all of the gossip from the summer, including how Jessica the first year teacher from the 3rd grade cohort had hooked up with that sleazy geometry teacher from the high school at the end of the year district-wide social last May.

“God, I remember when he was student teaching at the middle school,” Dora, your most senior coworker who had ‘been around the block a few times’ and also held onto every piece of gossip that circulated in your district for the last 17 years, drawled, “He had the grossest little rat mustache, you could hardly tell him apart from the 8th graders!”

The group laughs in response to that joke, always ready to make of the holier-than-thou high school teachers. “You know what?” Dora adds, “You’d think after so many years, I’d be used to these tiny fucking chairs, but I am not. I need a walk and a Diet Coke.”

“I’ll join you!” chimed Joanne, the second-oldest teacher in your cohort. The two leaders of your team left the room, leaving you, Claudia, and Andrés, the youngest teachers in the kindergarten cohort. Andrés and you had gone through your credential program together and had known each other for upwards of five years now as best friends. When the two of you arrived at Franklin Elementary, fresh out of school, Claudia had just completed her first year so she welcomed more young teachers with open arms. The three of you have been inseparable for the past several years now.

“Okay, pull out your stacks!” Andrés orders, citing your group’s earlier plan to use this menial labor to check for potential single parents. You were just looking on the forms to see who did not have both parents listed. It wasn’t a perfect system. And yeah, it was probably inappropriate but y’all were just messing around and killing time on this sweltering August day.

“I have one in my class!” you offer. “Student: Grace Miller. Parent: Susan Miller. Occupation: Landscape architect.”

“Oooo, intriguing. Love someone who works with their hands,” Claudia remarks in a silly, sultry voice. “I have one, the student is named Peter, mom is Karen. She’s an accountant.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. Karen? Yeah no thank you. Glad she’s in your class, not mine.” Andrés laughs and you join him. Kindergarten was just as much of a transition for students as it was for parents, and sometimes they took it harder than the kids. “Here’s to hoping she doesn’t live up to her name...” he continues, “Ooh, I have one! He's single dad--”

Oooh, you and Claudia purr.

“Rosalia Morales is the daughter of single dad Francisco; form says he's a small business owner,” Andrés presents this crown jewel piece of information to a round of applause from you and Claudia.

“Ugh, let’s hope he’s cute!” Claudia adds and the three of you dissolve into giggles as the older women return from their Diet Coke run.

—X—

Rosalia Morales was ready for kindergarten. Frankie Morales, on the other hand, was not.

The younger Morales had spent the first weeks of August carefully preparing for this new (and very important) chapter in her life. She carefully deliberated over decisions like what backpack and lunchbox to get from Target (she chose a matching Sofia the First set, so that it could be a topic of conversation for her and her potential new friends at school) to what she was instructing her father to pack in her lunchbox (no PB&J’s in case her new friends were allergic, she wanted to be able to sit at the same lunch table with them and not have these seminal weeks defined by the separation of Peanut vs Peanut free lunches). Rosalia was very meticulous, and she always had been. She was well-prepared to face all the challenges kindergarten wanted to throw at her.

While Rosalia had spent weeks preparing, Frankie had spent weeks dreading the imminent separation from his favorite person in the universe. Yes, he had sent Rosalia to preschool and pre-K but those had all been half-day programs. He would drop her off on his way to work and then pick her up at lunchtime. That only meant four hours apart but full-day Kindergarten was drop-off at 7:45am and pick up at 3:30pm. Seven and a half hours. How am I going to do it? he thought to himself.

—X—

At Franklin, they implemented a very specific first day schedule. Parents walked their kids to their classrooms to hang up their bags, then the students got to go play on the playground while the parents left. The older teachers designed this system to reinforce to the students that school = fun. Yes, of course there were always students who had a rougher first day, but it usually took a couple of hours for the fatigue to set in before the students realized how long the day (and year was going to be).

This system most importantly allowed for a clean break with the parents, a solid ‘goodbye!’ point that the teachers could enforce. But, always, there were some straggler parents (either loitering inside, near the front door or in their cars in the parking lot). The administrative team would let the indoor stragglers know that it was time to leave, but they would have two of the teachers go into the parking lot to make sure all the parents had cleared out.

This year, you and Claudia had pulled those short straws, so while the rest of your team monitored the early recess, you two roamed the parking lot with reassuring waves and “I’m sorry, it’s district policy, you have to leave the parking lot after drop off.” Everyone usually took it graciously—it’s like ripping off a band-aid, it’s better to just get it done.

You had almost cleared the lot of loitering vehicles when you came upon an older, red truck with a man inside it. His window was down so you began to speak to him a little before he noticed you, causing him to jump.

“Hi, I'm one of the teachers in the Kindergarten cohort," you say as you run your bare left hand through your hair. “Are you a parent?”

As he turns to look at you, you can notice that even with his cap pulled low, he has definitely been crying a little. “Hey, yes sorry. I’m Frankie Morales, Rosalia’s dad,” the man stammers, “I’m sorry, I know the policy, I think I’m just having a little bit of separation anxiety.” HIs brown eyes look a little bloodshot as he gives you a half-hearted smile.

You search his face and see no traces of dishonesty, this is just a man very nervous to be sending his kid to school. And a cute one at that too. Claudia called it, you think.

Before you can let your mind wander too far about this stranger, you have to say something. “Mr. Morales...” you start.

“Please call me Frankie. Mr. Morales is my dad,” he interjects nervously.

“Okay, Frankie,” you say. “I understand how nerve-wracking sending your kid to school can be. I may not be a parent myself, but I can empathize. But I can also offer to you that in my years in kindergarten, I’ve never seen a student not adjust to the classroom,” you offer.

“But I also understand that our anxieties can be irrational and don’t like when presented with things that might undermine them. So it’s okay to still be nervous or anxious right now,” you add. “Do you think there’s something that I could do to help you feel better about leaving school property in the next ten minutes or so?” you smile a little to help this last bit come off as nice as possible.

“I…” he mumbles, “I… I’m not sure, my parental intuition is telling me that something will happen in the middle of the day and it’ll take me too long to get here, which I know isn’t going to happen but… I’m worried that I won’t be able to be enough for her”

“You worry because you care, and I can already tell that you care about her a lot. Hey, like I said, our worries don’t have to be rational to get at us.”

“She’s just all I have, she’s the center of my universe,” he adds. With this, you can see the shift in his eyes, from worry to love. You can tell that he loves his daughter with his whole heart.

“Rosalia is in Andrés', I mean, Mr. Gonzales’s class, right?”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I think I might have a solution, a little band-aid just for today,” you bid and Frankie looks hopeful. “This is very much against district policy so you have to promise not to tell on me.”

He laughs with this, and promises not to tell. “How about I give you my phone number, and any time that your fatherly intuition is telling you that something bad is going to happen, you can text me and then I’ll peek across the hall to Rosalia’s classroom, and I can factually assure you that nothing bad is happening?”

Frankie actually smiles, for the first time in this whole conversation, “That would be great,” he says.

—X—

As you knew would happen, the day passed without incident. Frankie didn’t even text you, which you felt good about. But also a little sad because you wanted to start a little texting thing with this single dad. But you knew it would be a little inappropriate, in your heart of hearts.

After all the students get picked up, Claudia and Andrés migrate into your classroom.

“Don’t you think the first day of school calls for a celebratory drink out this afternoon?” Andrés probes. He always was down for happy hour (and to be truthful, you were too). “We should go to the brewery down the road, they have some nice outdoor seating.”

“I’m in,” you state, “And I may or may not have some other good news..” you tease.

“What? What good news could have happened in a room full of 6 year-olds?” Claudia jokes.

“Y’all can’t tell anyone but I got the phone number of that single dad from Andrés’s class,” you say as quickly as you can.

Claudia and Andrés both break into shrieks with this news.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe our prowling on the enrollment forms WORKED!!” Andrés exclaims.

“He was nervous at drop off so I gave him my number but he didn’t end up texting me, so nothing will probably ever come of it. But still, small win in my book.”

Claudia throws her head back, “You deserve all the wins you get, whatever happens, we’re psyched for you.”

Later, during happy hour you check your phone and notice a new text from an unsaved number.

Hey, thanks for your help this morning, having this line of communication made me feel a lot better. Rosalia had a great day today. -Frankie

You try to keep your facial expressions minimal as you read the message. They don’t need to know about this, you think to yourself before shooting back a quick message.

That makes me so happy Frankie. Feel free to reach out whenever you need! About whatever :)

You add that last line hastily and hit send. I can thank this liquid courage for that, you think as you down the rest of your pint.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier fic #slow burn incoming baby #my writing #di writes #oH MY finally something i'm actually writing instead of just talking about writing

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morkleemelon · 4 years ago

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off the ice || chapter 3: steady now

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, party with drugs and alcohol, scene of borderline harassment (nothing actually happens), financial struggle, insecurity, social anxiety, mention of injury

a/n: huge thank you to my beta readers @writing-frog and @skiimmiilk for helping me edit this! now I won’t have to tweak it a hundred times after posting XD also (not spoiling) I’m sorry I did you like this, sungchan :(

I’m not sure if I’m awake, dead, or dreaming, but somebody please take me out of this misery.

Your neck struggled to support your head as you fought to stay conscious on the locker room bench. It was early Saturday morning and team practice was far from over. Unwillingly, you had to stay up the previous night, studying deep into the AM because a certain boy kept distracting you in your head.

Over and over again, through your shift at the diner to the ride home to right here as you clung onto Yuna’s arm for support, Mark’s cute smile and Lisa’s daring accusations spun through your tired mind. It’s really not fair- a guy talks to you once and you’re already imagining things…

You quickly shake the thoughts from your head.

“Alright girls, thanks for coming in so early today,” your head skating coach, Tanya, smiled warmly, “captains, get everyone warmed up and I’ll go over some exciting announcements at the end of practice”.

“Thank you, Tanya,” the fatigued girls chorused half-heartedly as the captains ushered everyone out of the locker room and into the hallway for stretching.

Reaching down to touch her toes, Yuna looks over to you. “Y/n, are you okay? You look worse than usual”.

The exhausted expression on your face said it all as you bent down to do the same. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. Econ test is coming up too”. You yawned into your words.

“I know you’re gonna say no, but if you wanna let loose a little, there’s a party tonight,” Yuna peers at you upside-down from in between her legs.

“You know I’m not a party person,” you decline, blacking out slightly as you stand back up. You blink to clear your vision.

As much as you admired your popular best friend for putting herself out there and being able to have fun at a party, it couldn’t be you. The drinking, the smoking, the groping, ogling men- not to mention the anxiety of existing in a frat house full of judgmental people, was all too much for you. As tempting as letting loose a little on a Saturday night sounded, you’d much rather do it in a way that involves your cozy pj’s and watching your favorite skating compilations on YouTube. Alone.

“I know, I know,” Yuna holds her hands up innocently, “but it could be fun. I know Mark is gonna be there”.

You whip your head around so fast that your ponytail nearly slaps her in the face. Flustered, you smooth down the nonexistent wrinkles on the front of your skating jacket. “Oh, that’s nice. What’s that got to do with me?”.

“Just letting you know,” Yuna shrugged in a ‘matter of fact’ manner.

The captains led the team out to the rink to do laps. You weighed Yuna’s words for a minute as you skated across the ice. Naturally, being here where you were the most comfortable with yourself made you more susceptible to her convincing ploy. If you looked at the last few days in review, you had already made four new friends from just letting Yuna take the reins for one afternoon. That’s about one friend for every dollar in your bank account!

But the nagging reality was that Yuna had a massive amount of friends, cool friends, who were probably going to be at that very party while you had nobody but her and a guy you just met. This didn’t sit well with your anxieties. You’ll just end up awkward if Yuna wants to talk to someone else, or desperate if you cling to Mark, who would probably be weirded out.

As expected, it’s best to stay in.

The practice ran smoothly. As always, the hour and a half of spinning, falling, and getting back up resulted in soreness and loss of breath. Nonetheless, it recharged you and the cloud of tiredness in your head finally dissipated. You felt so free on the ice because you knew that you did it well. It isn’t about the money or your popularity or if you have to work part time just to afford the skates that you wear. If you put in the hard work and effort, you are rewarded with success; that’s a big part of what you liked about it.

“Excellent job today, ladies. I’d like everyone to give a special round of applause to y/n today,” Coach Tanya suddenly singled you out as the team gathered around to hear her ending announcements. Tanya gave you a warm smile and gestured towards you as you bow to your clapping teammates. “For mastering the triple lutz. I can tell you’ve been practicing extra hours, both from the log sheet and from your performance today. At this rate, we may send you to nationals in the spring”.

Gasps echo across the cold, near-empty stadium. Your jaw hung open at Tanya’s ambitious plan and Yuna grabbed onto your arm excitedly, giving you a nudge of congratulations. It was extremely rare for a sophomore to be sent to the national competitions. Even some seniors never make it past the pre-auditions at Seoul University alone. You weren’t even dreaming of going within the next year despite all of your extra night-time practices. Looking at Tanya’s face, it didn’t seem like she was joking either.

“Thank you, Coach Tanya. I will work even harder”.

“That being said, I have some exciting news pertaining to all of you ladies: this year, Seoul University is sponsoring our team to hold a friendly competition for the winter festival as a sort of main event. Don’t be alarmed because it is optional. It’s September now, so if you are interested in participating, you will have just under four months to prepare a pair skate for the festival in December. Untraditionally, the audience will be voting to choose a winner instead of a panel. Furthermore, the theme, costumes, and music will all be up to you, so have fun with it! Oh and not to mention, the winning pair will be rewarded a monetary prize of $5,000 each”.

Shocked looks were exchanged between teammates. Your brain was still processing to make sure you heard Tanya right as she reiterated.

“Yes,” Tanya laughed, “you heard me right, girls, $5,000 each. It’s a tremendous opportunity and if not for the money, for a chance to practice performing in front of a crowd”.

Murmurs of excitement hush across the near-empty stadium.

“Yuna,” you look up to the taller girl and grip her arm with both hands, “Yuna please we gotta do this”. You shake her slightly with your pleading, “be my partner?”.

The blonde giggled, “duh, of course! Lisa and Hope will probably do it together since they’re both on JV so it’s perfect. Let’s get that ten grand for you!”.

“Wait no, but-”

“Y/n. You know I’m not about to argue with you about this,” Yuna sighed, looking up to the fluorescent ceiling lights to avoid your indignant stare. You relaxed your grip on her arm, knowing that you wouldn’t win this fight no matter how guilty you felt. “You’re better than me by a long shot. If anyone could bet on a winner, they’d put their money on you without a doubt. And if we win it’ll be because of you, so think of it as a fair split based on contribution. I’ll take a $20 cut to buy us dinner,” Yuna encouraged.

You close your eyes and rest the side of your head on her shoulder.

That’s my best friend. I don’t deserve her.

You felt bad, but you knew that you needed this money more than anything right now. Your parents didn’t earn much and they were already burdened by this semester’s tuition, even with the scholarships. Picking up extra shifts at Frankie’s did little more than cover skating fees and rent. The heavy, looming fear of next semester being the one when you’d have to drop out often kept you up at night. It’s nobody’s fault, but that’s how it is.

Yet like a miracle angel sent from Heaven, this competition could cover an entire semester’s worth of tuition if you win. You needed the prize money desperately. You were going to have to win it no matter what.

“Bye!”. You waved to your teammates as they exited the locker room, probably to go out and be social on a Saturday afternoon. Unfortunately for you, your only plans were to sit alone at the library, studying.

“You seriously don’t wanna join us for lunch today?”. Yuna slung her skating bag over her shoulder. Her wet hair from just showering stuck to her face, but even like this she looked like she could be on the cover of a teen magazine.

“I’ll pass. I can grab a salad from the convenience store before I head to the library. Midterms are coming up and I gotta do a lot of review,” you explain, brushing a wide comb through your tangled mess of hair. Yuna moved to pull her hair back into a ponytail. You watched as her perfectly sculpted reflection made an action so simple into a reason for envy. The stained locker room mirror, however, did your bare face no favors. Your best friend remained oblivious as you picked yourself apart again. Your cheeks were a little too round, nose a little too wide, eyebrows a little too uneven. You shove the brush in your bag and turn around before you could fall deeper in insecurity. “Let’s go”.

As always, you chose to disregard your insecure thoughts and pretend like they never existed. Talking about it seemed weird, so you just chose not to do it. And you didn’t like bothering other people with your problems either. It was best to just keep it to yourself.

“Y/n!,” a familiar voice called out from behind you. You stopped walking down the stadium corridor, turning around to see who could’ve known your name. Usually it’s Yuna getting stopped by one of her many friends.

Ashy blonde hair came into view as the boy jogged to catch up with you. Your legs were doing just fine after over an hour and a half of training, but they trembled at the sight of a certain dreamy junior boy.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” Mark smiled down at you, the dim hallway lights catching on his cheekbones and jawline, accentuating his beautifully sculpted features.

“I’ll see you later,” Yuna winked, patting you on the back and making a break for the exit before you could protest.

“I-uh, hey, Mark,” you stutter. Was it just you or did he get even more good-looking since the last time you saw him?

“Did you guys just get out of practice?”. You could hardly pay attention to his simple question as you checked him out. Mark sported a simple outfit consisting of a plain black hoodie with matching black joggers and sneakers. His red hockey bag which was slung across his back was supported by one of his thumbs. With the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows, you watch as the lines of his forearm muscles shift and strain with each fine movement from the weight of the duffel.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah! We did,” you answer after an awkward pause. Oh, God, please let that not have been weird. “Are you here for your practice?”. You mentally slap yourself for your stupid question; he’s wearing gym clothes and has his hockey gear, what else was he going to do at the rink?

“Yeah, I am,” Mark laughed good-naturedly, leaning slightly on the wall next to you, “I came here a bit early, actually. I was hoping to catch you”.

Catch...me?

Your face flushed at his heart-fluttering remark. Contesting with the urge to spontaneously burst into flames, you try your best to give a steady reply, “Oh! What for?”.

“I-uh,” Mark diverted his gaze down to his shoes, “I know I got your number from the group chat, but I wanted to ask you in person. There’s a party tonight at the sheep’s house- my friend’s house- and I was wondering if I was gonna see you there”.

You simultaneously wanted to sink into the floor to disappear forever and jump into the air to celebrate. You did neither.

Was he asking you out? Not really. But then again, he wants to see you there at the party. And he came here early to specially ask you in person.

You replay the debate you had with Yuna earlier. Past-you had made some valid points about not going, but how could you say no when he put it like this?… oh, fuck it.

“For sure. I’ll be there”. You offer a wry smile to try to cover your nervousness.

“Awesome,” Mark’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, “can’t wait to see you tonight, then”.

“Can’t wait,” you echoed. You couldn’t help but notice how he was a few inches taller and you had to tilt your head back to meet his soft, brown eyes.

“I should probably get down to the rink to set up for practice”

“Oh okay! Don’t let me keep you”

“Not at all”. His fingers shifted to adjust the strap of his hockey bag and your eyes brushed over the ripple of his forearm. He was doing the bare-minimum and your knees were ready to buckle in the middle of the hallway.

“I’ll get going then!,” you excuse yourself with a curt wave. Turning around, you head briskly for the exit before you could embarrass yourself further and agree to more irrational proposals.

Before your hand could even touch the exit door to let yourself out, reality hit.

Oh no. I have to go to the party.

Yuna squealed and pounced you onto your bed as you told her the news. “I can’t believe it! You’re really gonna go?”.

You run a stressed hand through your wavy locks, “I guess? He didn’t leave me much of a choice”. Rolling around on your bed, your best friend clapped and cheered despite your wanting to travel back in time and tell Mark you couldn’t make it. But how were you supposed to say no to that face? Thanks to this, your library study session was far from focused or helpful.

“We gotta get you looking hot, y/n. I mean, you’re already hot,” Yuna corrected, “but even more hot for your first college party”.

Hopping off your now messed-up covers, you go to observe yourself in the full-body mirror in all your said ‘hotness’. You were currently enveloped in a grouchy oversized tee shirt that you got from a choir field trip in high school paired with plain gym shorts hidden underneath. Your hair was especially frizzy from being air-dried after your shower.

“The only hot I am is a hot mess,” you groaned. Did you look like this when Mark saw you earlier? Shit.

“Nonsense, silly,” Yuna hugged you from behind, “you’re adorable and you’d be surprised how much hair, makeup, and a good fit can change someone”. She looked into your eyes eagerly through the mirror as if asking for permission. You were too nervous about the party to deny her so you gave your roommate a reluctant nod. It was better that she helped you get ready so you could fit in and thus blend into the background.

Squealing again, Yuna gave you a squeeze and scurried to flit through her closet for something you could wear.

“Go straighten your hair, y/n!”

“Yes ma’am”. This much you could do. “How’s this?”. Yuna held up a skimpy bralette top, its white lace barely covering any surface area at all.

“That’s a top?!”

“Ok nevermind”. Tossing the tiny piece aside, your roommate continued sifting earnestly through her collection of expensive clothes.

You ran the straightener through your partitioned hair carefully.

“What about this one?”. Yuna held up a simple red crop top. A small notch ran an inch down the neckline which gave it a little edge, but it seemed like it would be in your comfort zone.

“That’s perfect,” you smile.

Hair now pin straight and finally smooth, you change into the red top and ripped black denim shorts Yuna picked out for you. Your best friend was much better at makeup than you were, so you let her take the lead once again. The only times you wear full makeup are for performances and you would look like a complete clown if you showed up with the two inch eyeliner you knew how to do.

Applying a small amount of base makeup to your face, Yuna went for a more natural look, knowing that you weren’t comfortable with standing out too much. Subtle brown eyeshadow and lengthening mascara made your eyes pop just the right amount and a cherry lip balm tinted your lips a translucent, shiny red. Even you had to admit your confidence was boosted from the new look you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror.

That’s me. I’m… kind of pretty

“Aw, honey, you look so beautiful,” Yuna cooed, wrapping up your makeover with a clap. She did her own makeup effortlessly and put on the discarded bralette from earlier. However ridiculous it looked on the hanger, she made it look like a million bucks and it suited her perfectly.

You moved to sit on your bed and lace up your trusty white sneakers. Yuna wore a bigger shoe size than you which came as a relief because you weren’t sure if you could handle wearing any of the daring stiletto pumps in her collection.

“You know, I’m so happy you’re going to come this time. I was always really sad when you stayed home studying every weekend instead of going out and having fun”.

“I would’ve gone if I knew how to talk to people,” you reason, picking at the dirty aglet of your shoelace, “and I’m honestly really nervous right now. You better not leave me, okay?”.

“You’re so sweet and thoughtful, anyone would be lucky to talk to you! I know it’s easier said than done, but you’d be surprised what a little confidence will do. And of course, I won’t leave you”. Yuna gave you a bright, reassuring smile before pulling you off the bed.

You take one last look at your reflection in the mirror.

That’s right, confidence. I’m confident.

“Let’s go”

The walk down to the party was much shorter than you expected. Turns out, the ‘Sheep’ lived in that sketchy house just off of campus which you made a point to avoid during your nighttime jogs. The tables were turning as you approached the rickety front porch on purpose. You clung to Yuna as an array of neon lights shines through the window blinds and the open door. The bass of a generic pop song jolted through your bones.

Walking into the home, your grip on Yuna’s arm tightened as unfamiliar faces surrounded you. The crowded room stank of sweaty bodies and weed. A countertop stocked full of red solo cups and different types of alcohol was visible from where you stood. Heads turned to stare at Yuna while the two of you entered.

What am I doing here?

“Hey, you made it!,” an unfamiliar voice shouted from over the ruckus. Your eyes fell nervously on the voice’s owner. He had dark brown hair and sharp, defined features. His accent was strange, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Hey!”. Yuna brought the stranger in for a loose hug. “Yangyang, this my roommate and best friend, y/n. Y/n this is Yangyang also known as ‘the sheep’. He’s from Germany”.

Ah, Germany.

You offer him a small wave, surprised when he pulls you unexpectedly into a hug.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Mark’s told me all about you,” Yangyang smirked, “please help yourself to drinks, girls. The guys are in the basement playing pong”.

“Woo! Let’s get wasted!” Yuna yelled while pulling you towards the drinks.

You stood awkwardly at her side as she poured both of you drinks- a half a solo cup of strawberry vodka for her and a sprite zero for you. You wish you could be in bed, curled up alone with a good movie. Or even at the library studying-

“Hey,” a deep voice right next to your ear wrecked your train of thought. Alarmed, your eyes were met with the middle of a chest as you turned around to see who it was. Craning your head back, an unfamiliar, tall boy with stiffly-gelled brown hair looked down at you. You winced at the acrid smell of axe body spray now flooding your nostrils. He looked young, maybe even younger than you, but he was clearly very drunk. “Where have you been all my life?”.

“Excuse me?,” you exclaim over the booming music. The boy placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. Looking over to find Yuna, she had already shifted deeper into the crowd and was busy talking with other people.

“I’m Sungchan,” the boy unwelcomingly introduced, “what’s your name, beautiful?”.

“I-uh I’m y/n,” you stuttered. Sungchan’s face was way too close for comfort and his breath stank of cheap alcohol. You felt his humid exhalation brush over the top of your head like a toxic cloud and you fought to not gag.

“Y/n. You come here with anyone?”. You pressed your back as far into the counter as you could to get away from him, but there was little room to go. Fear began to set in as you realized you were trapped. What should I say? What do I do?

“I-I…”

“She came here with me”. A firm hand gripped Sungchan’s left arm and yanked it forcefully away from the counter. Your saving grace put a gentle hand on your shoulder, tugging you slightly away from the drunk perpetrator. Struggling to comprehend what was happening, you looked up to see it was Mark, staring the intoxicated boy down.

“C-captain”

“What’s a freshman doing with my girl?” Mark pressed. His expression was unamused.

Your heart trembled at his unanticipated lie. His girl? Mark brushed a reassuring thumb over your shoulder, clueing to you that he would handle this.

“I didn’t know, I-”

“Sungchan, right? You still trying to make varsity next year?,” Mark interrupted, eyebrows raised in annoyance at the freshman. Sungchan’s eyes went wide as he held both hands up innocently.

“Y-yes I-”

“Misconduct can get you kicked off the team, you know. Not to mention I’ll be senior captain next year so I’ll have a say in who makes it into varsity”.

“I’m sorry, captain, I really didn’t-”

“Fuck off”. Mark gestured his free hand towards the open front door. Sungchan looked around, as if unsure what to do. The surrounding party-goers danced and drank on, unaware of the altercation and more interested in who they were going home with tonight. Finally, the lanky boy’s head cleared enough to make a decision. Sungchan bowed slightly in apology and stumbled towards the exit. The untouched solo cup of sprite fizzed in your shaking hands.

“Are you okay?”. Mark faced you with a concerned look.

You clenched your grip tighter around your drink as you fought back tears, the shock wearing off and the gravity of the situation hitting you full-on. You set the cup down and shake your head no.

“Do you want to get out of here?”.

You nod your head vigorously and tears began streaming down your cheeks. What a waste, all of Yuna’s hard work down the drain. Mark nudged you forward and guided you towards a back door. Weaving your way through the crowd, Mark greeted his friends with a “hey” or a simple nod. You felt a few girls eye you discontentedly at the sight of Mark’s hand ghosting over the small of your back while others were too high or drunk to notice. The cool night air welcomed you as Mark urged you outside and you rushed to escape the cramped house. He shut the door behind him, muffling the heavy bass so you could finally hear yourself think.

Dabbing away at your tears so he wouldn’t see, you breathe deeply to regain your composure.

“Thanks for that”. You managed to let out after a few minutes of sniffling and silence. Your voice was slightly hoarse and you couldn’t meet his eyes, but he waited patiently by your side.

So much for coming to this party, he probably thinks I’m a mess. This whole thing was a huge mistake.

“I think I’ll go. Sorry I can’t stay”. You turn to walk down the wooden porch steps.

“Wait-”. Mark’s voice halts your departure. “Would you like to go on a walk with me? Or I can at least take you home. I don’t want you going out alone after what just happened…”.

Looking up at him, the dim porch light glowed behind him, giving him a soft golden halo. His brown eyes which were usually smiling now shone with worry as he scanned over your tear-stricken face. Your heart which was beating rapidly from fear earlier began to settle down in his reassuring presence. Being alone right now might not be the best idea. But more importantly, being with him sounded like what you really needed. You nod.

The sound of crickets chirping and sneakers scuffing took over as the two of you walked farther away from the booming music of the party. You weren’t sure where you were headed, but you also didn’t know if there was anywhere you wanted to go. Wandering down the deserted streets in comfortable silence, Mark followed you patiently as he waited for you to be ready to talk. Before you knew it, your feet brought you to the lake and you stood watching the water ripple under the night breeze. The moon, almost full, illuminated silver each ebb and flow.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the party”. You quietly broke the silence. You felt bad for making him leave. All of his friends were there and he probably really looked forward to it.

“Don’t be. I only went so I could talk to you, anyways”

You look at him in surprise. Mark’s eyes remained glued to the lake, sparkling from the reflected moonlight.

“How many girls have you told that to?,” you scoff. Internally, you screamed.

“Couldn’t name another one”

You pause before resolving to stroll further down the lakeside. The sound of footsteps behind you confirmed that he was following. Stopping as you reach the familiar creaky wood, you take a seat on the worn-out dock, him on your right. You dangle your feet over the dark, sloshing waves. It was cool, despite the summer season. A breeze rolled by, making you shudder. However cute the crop top was, it didn’t do much to keep you warm. Not that you could have planned on running away from the party and needing a sweatshirt beforehand.

“Here, take this”. Mark unzipped his jacket to give to you.

“Oh it's ok-”. You couldn’t finish your protest before the warm fabric was draped across your shoulders. Your face grew pink once more. If you didn’t know better, you could be admitted to the hospital for how much you’ve been blushing recently. “Thanks,” you mutter, looking down at your hands with a small smile.

“Is that Frankie’s?”. Mark’s voice cut through the silence.

“What?”

“Is that Frankie’s?,” Mark repeated, nodding at the small restaurant bordering the lake some distance away. It looked as if it had just closed, yellow fluorescent lights still on while a tired waitress scrubbed away at a table. Only one car, probably her’s, remained in the parking lot.

“Oh, yeah. That’s where I work part time,” you confirmed. “I come here to the dock to sit sometimes. You know, just to think”.

“I feel that. Sometimes everything is way too much to handle and you need to take time to breathe. I have a place like this too”

Mark’s sincere confession came as a surprise to you and unintentionally, it showed on your face.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Mark feigned hurt, putting a hand on his chest. “Do you think hockey guys can’t have feelings too? I have a fan club for heaven’s sake!”.

You laugh at his exaggerated outcry.

“And that’s a bad thing? Don’t you guys like the attention? Attention from lots and lots of pretty girls”. You raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

“As if,” Mark ran a stressed hand through his hair, “they’re all crazy as hell. Honestly, none of the guys really like the attention”.

You nod in understanding. Seeing how the Lovelees acted the few times you were around them, you’d hate being the subject of their affections too.

“But how about you,” Mark continued, “I haven’t seen you much at parties”.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “if you couldn’t tell from tonight, I’m not much of a party girl. Today was my first and probably last party”. You had gotten so comfortable walking and talking with Mark that you had almost forgotten about the horrible incident that occurred earlier. Pulling the soft jacket over yourself more, your face falls as you remember Sungchan’s intoxicated face.

“Hey” Mark’s hand grazes over your slumped shoulders, bringing you back to focus on him. “I’ll never let him bother you again”.

While you were unsure of how your makeup was holding up due to all the crying, his delicate features were all the more beautiful under the pale moonlight. You notice how close you’re sitting, knees almost brushing against each other’s and his face was but inches from yours. And even though you were wearing his jacket so he was left with only a tee shirt, you were sure you weren’t imagining the heat radiating from his body. Slowly, your eyes flutter down to his parted lips.

There it is once more, the hot flush in your cheeks and the strain in your chest.

Meeting Mark has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but you felt undeniably comfortable sitting next to someone who would’ve been a stranger just a few days ago. Something about him felt familiar to you now and you trusted in his words. He was someone... safe.

“Really?,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of his soft, pink lips.

“Really”. His confirmation was too gentle to be heard above the sound of the rushing water below, but you read his lips as they shaped around the word.

Before you know it, you were leaning in, just enough so you knew you weren’t imagining it. A mellow breeze plays with your hair, causing a few strands to fall astray. Cautiously with his hand, Mark slowly tucks the fallen pieces back behind your ear. He hesitates there. The feeling of his warm fingertips sends tingles down your spine. Carefully scanning your expression to make sure you were okay, his hand inches down to gently cup your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”.

You could feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips, his own not centimeters away. Your heart pounded rapidly as you gave an affirming nod. Closing your eyes, you wait.

This is happening.

A jolting vibration from your pocket caused your eyes to shoot right back open and Mark let go of you in surprise. Your phone kept buzzing, the harsh sound amplified by the wooden dock. Sighing in frustration, you struggle to remove it from your back pocket as Mark looks away, coughing awkwardly. Your face burned red from embarrassment.

Why does this always happen to me?

“Hello?”. Your tone was laced with annoyance.

“Y/n! Where aare youu?,” Yuna slurred. Trap music blared in the background confirming that she was still at the party. You could hear Ten asking if Mark was with you over the ruckus.

“I left. And yeah, Mark is here”. You put the phone on speaker and held it up towards the boy you were about to kiss moments ago.

“Hey guys,” Mark said sheepishly. Yuna squealed in delight.

“That’s my boy!”. Ten’s booming voice took over the call.

“Stop it man,” Mark warned, increasingly agitated at the couple for ruining the moment.

“Okayy kids! Have fun, but not tooooo much fun”. Yuna giggled into the microphone.

“I’m hanging up,” you said quickly before pushing the red button to end the call. Any longer and you weren’t sure you could resist throwing your phone (and perhaps yourself) into the lake. A brief moment of silence ensued, both parties unsure of what to do next. Was there anything you could do to save the moment after that?

“I uh…,” you start.

“Yeah umm…,” Mark agreed. Silence ensued.

“Uhh…”. Your steady tone wavered as you started to giggle. The awkwardness dissipated because before you knew it, both of you were laughing wholeheartedly at the unfortunate situation.

“Yuna tends to have great timing,” you explain.

“Mm. Ten does too,” Mark related, stroking his chin and nodding as if thinking deeply.

“She said she wouldn’t leave me at the party but lo and behold”. You gesture to your surroundings, exasperated.

“That sucks,” Mark agreed, “you should have come found me. I was waiting for you, actually”.

“I was going to,” you picked at the zipper of his jacket, “but we had just gotten there when... you know”.

“Yeah. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you at all, but I’m always willing to listen”

“You’re,” you look for the right words, “you’re so amazing”.

“Yeah?”

You keep your gaze in your lap, “Yeah. And you know, I wish we’d met earlier, Mark. Because it’s really nice talking to you and you’re a really great guy”. You check for his reaction.

“Yeah, I wish we met sooner too”. His expression was that of… adoration.

Being with Mark was so easy. Conversation came to you two easier than anything else in life did. And just like that, feet swinging in sync above the water, you talked for hours. He told you about his alien conspiracy theories and his aspirations to be a professional hockey player and then retire into sports medicine. You told him about your parents and how you missed them dearly because they worked way out of the city to support you and your dream. You did everything you could to be able to pay them back, even majoring in economics which was more profitable than environmental studies or professional skating. Mark listened thoughtfully and admitted that he related in a lot of ways with his parents being all the way in Canada.

The night rushed by and the two of you talked until the golden peaks of sunrise painted the water from its usual blue. You had shifted so you were sitting facing each other on the dock. The early sunlight cast a warm glow over Mark’s face. He looked like a painting- a Monet. Or a Renoir.

“Um so, I guess it’s Sunday now”. Mark rested his chin into the crook of his elbow. You could hear the tired in his voice, but you mutually understood that neither of you wanted to leave.

“Do you have to go?”. You picked at a piece of fuzz on the sleeve of his sweatshirt which you were still wearing. The disappointment was evident in your question. Even though you had spent the whole night getting to know each other, it felt like you had just barely scratched the surface. There was still so much more you wanted to talk about.

Checking his watch, Mark contemplated for a bit.

“It’s 6:12 a.m. right now. I actually have to get somewhere by 6:30,” Mark explained.

“So early?”

“Yeah it’s… you could come with me if you want?”. His sleepy eyes twinge with hope.

You look to the lake, the sparkling ripples tinted gold with the rising sun. Sunday was usually a rest day for you and you didn’t have anything planned. As fatigued as you felt, everything in you wanted to accept his invitation. You cracked a small smile, getting up to stretch your legs. You hold out a hand to help him up.

“Lead the way”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home? This might not be fun for you…”

Mark’s expression was worried as the two of you stood at the entrance of the local church, the doors open and you could see rows of tables and food set up as if ready for people at any minute. The streets were starting to bustle as the world began to wake up. A volunteer from inside the church spotted you, walking out to give his greetings.

“Mark!,” the man called out as he pulled Mark in for a warm hug, “good morning!”.

His eyes turned towards you and Mark moved to introduce you.

“Daniel, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Daniel. We volunteer together here at the church to serve breakfast to the homeless,” Mark disclosed.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel”. You shake his hand with a smile. Gosh, I probably look like a mess right now. I didn’t even get to change or take off the makeup from the party yesterday. You self-consciously zip up Mark’s oversized jacket to hide your exposed midriff.

“Nice to meet you, y/n! This is the first time Mark has brought a… friend here”. Daniel’s eyes darted between you and Mark with an assuming smile.

“Yeah,” Mark coughed, turning to you, “do you want me to take you home? This probably isn’t what you expected I don’t know why I-”

“No,” you interrupted, “I’d like to stay and volunteer”. Offering him a reassuring smile, you rest your hand on his arm to show him that you were okay. There was truth to his worries when Mark said this wasn’t what you were expecting. You never would have thought that a popular guy like him woke up early on the weekends to help the needy. Evidently, he did it out of the kindness of his own heart, not for attention. You always imagined it was all parties and messing around, but you were pleasantly proven wrong.

“Great! Mark can show you around and get you started,” the older man clapped before heading inside.

“You’re kind of awesome, you know that?”. Mark’s question caught you off guard. He slipped his hand into yours to lead you into the building, the simple action sending your heart into a frenzy.

“Awesome how?”

“Just… awesome,” Mark clarified cryptically, holding the door open for you to enter the storage room. He tosses you a green volunteer shirt.

“Alright, I’ll take the compliment,” you laugh, taking off his jacket and handing it to him. To your surprise, he pushes it back to you.

“You keep it. I like it a lot better on you”

Mark Lee if you keep saying things like this, I’m going to catch on fire.

You fight to put out the flames spreading across your cheeks and give a single nod, setting the sweatshirt down on a nearby box. Not willing to strip in front of him in the church storage room, you pull the volunteer shirt over on top of the shirt you were already wearing.

“So anyways,” Mark continued as if he didn’t just say the most romantic thing you’ve heard in your life, “the people will start coming in about 20 minutes. Our job is to portion out the food and once everyone is served, we can go eat and talk with them”.

“Got it”

“Here, let me get this for you”. His hand guided your waist to spin around as he pulled an apron over your head. Tying the back of the garment together, your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his fingers brush under the fabric of your shirt. You turn your face to the side and you can see his soft expression in your peripheral vision. The heat from his body behind yours feels so welcoming.

I wish he’d kiss me right now.

And he wants to. He tries to. He’s leaning in and everything is perfect. Your heart is beating fast as you tilt your head back, but like clockwork, a jolting buzz from his pants makes you jump apart. No, not like that.

“I swear to God, I’m throwing away my phone”. Mark ran a frustrated hand through his hair, picking up the kiss-blocking call. “Hello?”. You sighed.

You watch as the annoyed expression on his face fades into shock as the speaker on the other side panicked through the phone. Your own frustration transforms into concern as Mark looks at you and you catch the words “car” and “hospital”. Mark paces back and forth.

“Alright, I got it. Yeah, she’s with me. I’ll tell her. We’ll come right now. Don’t worry, Ten, she’s going to be fine”

“What is it?,” you ask as soon as he hangs up the call, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry.

“It’s Yuna…,” Mark trailed off, shocked by the news. Your heart dropped down to your feet.

“What about Yuna?” Your voice shook with panic.

“She-she was in a car accident. She’s at the hospital right now”

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pascalscenarios · 4 years ago

Text

THE ONE (Frankie Morales x Reader)

THE ONE

Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You wake up at Frankie’s house. You spend the day with him, only for things to be finally revealed.

Warning: Swearing

Words: 4552

Authors Note: Whew... You guys aren’t ready for this one...Ahhh!!! Also I just want to say thank you so much for reading my fic. It means so much to me! Enjoy - k

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

Chapter 5

The sunlight peeked through the window, shining down on the bed. Your hair was a mess, sprawled out and disheveled as your head rested against pillows. A white comforter covered your body. You slowly open your eyes to an unfamiliar bedroom. You should have felt scared or panicked when waking up in a stranger's bed, but you felt safe.

You could smell him on the sheets, it was Frankie's bed. You were at Frankie's house.

You laid there trying to remember the events from last night. You were partying with your friends in the club and somehow you ended up with Frankie? Your memories were blurred, only remembering bits and pieces.

You sit up in the bed, your head pounding. Looking down you noticed you were wearing an oversized grey shirt and sweatpants. These definitely weren’t the clothes you wore last night.

You look over to the nightstand to find two Advils and a tall glass of water. You pull the covers off from your body, tossing your legs off the side of the bed. You pop the pills in your mouth and chug down the water.

With the glass in your hand, you get up and walk over and open the bedroom door. The door led to a hallway with multiple other doors. Towards the end of the hall was a large opening, you assumed it was the living room because you heard that the tv was on.

Your feet padded against the wooden floors as you made your way to the living room. The local news was playing on the tv.

“Looks like sleeping beauty decided to wake.”

You gasped. Startled, you turn around to find Frankie leaning against the kitchen counter with a coffee mug in his hand.

“H-hi” you stuttered out.

“Good morning.”

Awkwardness and silence filled the air like usual.

You slowly walk into the kitchen, passing him to get to the sink. You set the glass down in the stainless steel tub and turn to face him. He was staring at you while sipping his coffee, waiting for you to say something.

You stared down at your fingers as you fiddled with them. “Frankie..”

You swear he could read your mind because he started explaining everything that happened last night. He knew you were most likely confused as to why you were at his house.

“You called me last night drunk.” He says placing his coffee mug down on the counter. “You were lost and didn’t know where you were. I’m pretty sure you meant to call Alex, but somehow you called me? I came to pick you up, took you to eat at Dolly's. I was going to take you home, but I don’t know where you live and you were sleeping, so I brought you back to my place.” He explains running his hands through his moppy curls.

“I gave you clothes for you to change into, you took a shower, and slept in my bed. I took the couch.” He motions his head in the direction of the living room.

You look over, seeing a pillow and blanket bunched up on the couch.

“You know I would never-”

“I know, Frankie.” You tell him softly. “I trust you. I always have.” Your heart wrenched. The fact he drove all the way into the city in the early hours of the morning and took care of you meant a lot to you. It was proof that despite what happened between you two, he would always be there for you.

“So… “ He says trying to change the subject. “How’d you get my number?”

God this was going to be embarrassing.

Your face started to turn red as you spoke “Santiago gave it to me. I told him once a couple of years ago I wanted to call you. I’ve tried many times to press call under your name, but I always got scared and chickened out.” you confessed.

“Funny, I did the same thing too, asking him for your number, but never calling.” He chuckled, folding his arms against his chest.

“Huh...you know for the past 10 years I thought you’d never think of me again after that night.” You say you continued to fiddle with your fingers.

“I thought about you every day since then, Smiles. You were always on my mind...you still are.”

You glance up at him. Your heart was beating against your chest at his statement.

You both make eye contact. God, those gorgeous brown eyes that always made you melt. You were a sucker for his eyes, they were captivating. You could always read him from the look in his eyes. His eyes were sorrowful, but also longing.

You quickly divert your eyes breaking you from the trance you were in. What are you doing?! You’re going to get married! You can’t be thinking so deeply about someone else, let alone someone being your ex-boyfriend. Snap out of it!

“So why are your plans for the day?” Making conversation and acting like you guys didn’t have a moment just then. You walked past him and went to go sit on his couch.

“Uh, I don’t know.” He says trailing off, following you, plopping himself down on the opposite side of the couch, giving you some space.

“I was gonna drop you off at home whenever you are ready then go fishing out on the lake for a bit” he picks up the remote and starts flipping through the channels. He stops when he notices Star Wars: Episode IV: A New Hope is airing on tv.

You didn’t want to go home just yet. A few weeks ago you were dead set on avoiding Frankie, but something changed. You wanted to be in his company and spend time with him, at least for today.

“Can I go with you?” you asked.

“Go with me?” He sounded confused.

“Yeah...I mean like spend the day with you...go fishing?”

“You’re hungover and want to go fishing...with me…?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Um...yeah?”

“Don’t you wanna go home?”

“I mean if you want me to leave I can-”

“No!” he said a little too quickly. He clears his throat. “No, you can stay as long as you want, it's just” he stops. “Several weeks ago you were pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with me. You said things between us weren’t fine, we weren’t on friendly terms, and for me to stop wedging my way into your life.”

“I mean it’s a little too late for that now, you managed to crack your way in.” You sighed.

“Have I?”

“You were always a constant in my life until you weren't. You were the closest person to me besides Santiago. So naturally for me, as much as I want to push you away, I’m also drawn to you... You’re familiar. Since you came back into my life, you’ve been on my mind a lot lately..” you opened up to him.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know... That I’ve missed you, despite everything. Think it would be therapeutic for us to talk and hang out for a day.”

Frankie stayed silent.

“Okay,” he nods, giving you a small smile.

…

You were getting ready to leave with Frankie. You didn’t have anything else to wear, so you decided to just continue wearing his shirt and sweats. It was that or the outfit you wore last night. You patiently waited for Frankie in the living room as he gathered things he needed. You walked over to the front door, grabbing your bag that sat on the small. You reached into your bag pulling your phone out.

Your phone had TONS of text messages and missed calls from your friends and Alex. Your finger sliced against your phone screen noting the long list of notification banners. They had no idea what happened to you last night or where you were. They were worried, thinking the worst possible things that could have happened to you.

You opened your phone, pressing the call icon. Looking at your call log, you noticed you did call Frankie last night. Shaking your head, you clicked contacts, and pressed on Alex’s name. You pressed the phone against your ear.

The call picked up

“Alex-”

“THANK GOD! Where are you?! Are you okay?! The girls were looking for you all night, I was so close to calling the cops! I thought something terrible happened to you!” Alex was worried.

“I’m sorry, I got lost, but I’m fine,” you reassured them.

“Let me come get you, where-”

“Actually, I’m not coming home yet…”

“What? Why? What's wrong?” Alex asked, he thought you were being suspicious.

“I just need time alone…” You lied. I mean you did want to be alone... but with Frankie.

“Time alone? What I’m confu-”

“Alex, I promise you fine. I’m safe….I just need to be alone right now. I’ll explain everything later. I love you. I gotta go”

“Wait-”

You quickly hang up the phone and put your phone back in the bag.

You put your phone back in the bag. You didn’t want to tell him what happened over the phone. It was better to tell him everything in person. You’re debating if you wanted to tell him you were hanging out with Frankie. What he doesn’t know wouldn’t kill the right?

You decided to walk around the room, looking at the various knick-knacks and miscellaneous items Frankie had displayed on his shelves. There were photos of Frankie with his friends and family members, people you recognized. A framed photo caught your eyes. It was a child's painting, with various bright colors brushed on the sheet. In the middle was a handprint of a small child, and one of a grown person.

You continue to walk around the room when you accidentally step on something. You lift your foot, noticing a sterling silver ring on the ground. It was a dainty ring of a crescent moon.

Girlfriend, you thought. You remember him talking to someone on the phone the night with Santiago. It had to be a girlfriend. He has a girlfriend and he brought you home while you were drunk? That’s not good. Yet again you are engaged and here you are spending time with your ex-boyfriend.

But nothing was gonna happen with Frankie. You both hand significant others. You guys were friends… Well sorta. You weren’t sure what to call this relationship.

“You ready?”

You look at him. He was wearing his hat, shirt, jeans, boots, and a backpack hanging off one shoulder. He was also wearing a fisher vest, which made you giggle slightly. Frankie was always a nature boy.

“Yeah.”

“What’s that?” He asks nothing you holding the ring in your hand

“Um, a ring. I found it on the carpet.” You say walking over and handing it to him.

He signs. “I swear she leaves everything everywhere...” he mumbles under his breath, but you couldn’t hear what he said because it was so quiet. He sets the ring on the coffee table.

“Alright let's go,” he says.

…

The lake was peaceful. The water slowly moved. Nothing but sounds of nature. It was calming and relaxing. You and Frankie sat in a small boat out in the middle of the lake. Frankie placed a worm to hook his fishing rod. He stood up, casting his line far out, then sat back down.

You sat there with a fishing rod in your hand patiently for something to bite.

“It’s nice today.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You must love it out here. This is very you.” You chuckle slightly.

“I try to come when I can. They have a camping site, so I’ll come out on a weekend and camp sometimes.”

“Usually I’ll come here to think.”

“Think about what?”

He shrugged, reeling in his line slightly. “It depends. Sometimes I’ll come to think about stuff like what's going on in my life. Sometimes I’ll think about the past.”

Silence fell between the two of you.

“Hey, Frankie…”

“Yeah?”

“The questions I ask you today, can you be open and answer them honestly? I know that might be asking a lot but-”

“Okay…”

“Really?” You were a bit surprised. I mean he had been honest with you, but only really scratching the surface. You wanted to dig deeper.

“Only if you do the same.”

“Deal.” You smile. “ Did ever come out here to think about me?”

“Plenty of times, Smiles.”

“So, when did you get discharged from the military? I remember you telling Alex you fly cargo?”

“I got discharged a little while after I left. I got my pilot's license suspended for a bit. I managed to get it back and started piloting for a cargo company about 5 years ago.” He reeled him his line, then stood out to cast it again.

“Did you ever get that job you wanted, the one at the magazine company?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good for you. I knew you could do it. I remember you being so nervous when you did your interview.”

You chuckle slightly at the memory. “Yeah, it was such a mess then, but apparently liked me. It’s a great job. It’s funny actually, Alex’s tech company is in the same building. Our mutual friend introduced us to each other. We were friends for a while, then started dating two years ago.”

You were curious about his girlfriend. He never mentioned her. I mean the phone call at Santiagos and the ring at his house, he had to have a girlfriend.

“How about you? How long have you and your girlfriend been together?”

“My what? Girlfriend? I don’t-”

“Woah!” You said as you jolted forward your hands gripping your fishing pole. You quickly stand up as the fish keeps tugging aggressively on the end line.

“Reel it in Smiles!”

You pull up on the rod as you quickly cranked the reel handle.

“Oh my gosh!” You laugh trying your hardest to reel in the fish.

“Come on, keep going you go!” Frankie cheered you on.

You reeled the last of your line. The fish flew out of the water as you helped the fishing rod up high.

“Alright Smiles!” Frankie laughed as he set his fishing rod into a holder, he stood up quickly and grabbed your line, holding the fish up. You had caught a Bass.

“This one's pretty big!” Frankie grabbed the fish from the bottom of its amount as he unhooked the fish from the line.

“You wanna hold it?” he extends the fish towards you.

“No way! I’m not touching that!” you say moving your body away.

“Come on smiles, you gotta hold a fish you caught!” He says bring the Bass closer to you.

“Frankie! No! Stop!” you protested as you turned away.

“Give your hands,” he says holding his hand out.

“Frankie...”

“Come on, it’s just a fish.”

You sigh holding your hands out. Frankie placed the Bass in your hands. You slightly squeeze its body, making sure you have a grip on the fish. The was Bass was cold, the scales poked the palms of your hands slightly, and it felt slimy.

“See, not so bad!”

The fish began to move, wiggling back and forth in your hand. You let out a yelp, letting out a shriek as you quickly give it back to Frankie.

Frankie busts out laughing as he takes it from your hands.

“That’s not funny!” You shove him as you laughed slightly.

“Stop being such a wimp! It’s just a fish!” He chuckles.

“I told you I didn’t want to hold it!”

“How about you give it a kiss then?” He moves it towards you.

“Stop it! Frankie!”

“It wants a kiss, Smiles, do leave it hanging!” as he tries to get the fish as close to your face as possible.

“Give me a smooch!” he animates his voice, pretending the fish is talking to you.

“NO! Frankie Stop!” You shriek. Frankie gets closer to you, shoving the fish in the face. You reacted by pushing him, Frankie lost his balance and ended up falling over the side of the boat into the lake.

You gasp, your hands flying over your mouth. You kneel on the bench, leaning over the side of the boat.

Frankie’s head pops up out of the water, his Standard Oil Heating hat on his head.

“Frankie are you alright?!”

He takes of his hat, tossing it the boat. He shakes his head, getting so water out and hair out of his eyes, then takes his hands slicking his hair back so he could see.

“Yeah I’m fine, I wasn't expecting to go for a swim though” he laughs as he treads water.

“Here let me help you up” you extend out your hand for him to grab. He takes your hand but you immediately regret it after seeing the mischievous look on his face. You let out a yelp as Frankie yanked you in, flipping over the side of the boat into the water.

Your body hit the water, you come up with the bubbles gasping for air. Frankie is laughing as he treads beside you.

“Now we’re even!”

‘You punk! You did that on purpose! Meanwhile, I accidentally shoved you in!” you slick your hair back out of your face. You splash water in his face.

“Two can play at that game!” he splashes you back.

You swim over to him, placing your hands on his shoulder, then pushing down on him, submerging you both underwater.

Underwater, he grabs a hold of your waist pulling your body close to his. Coming back up you're both laughing, his arms wrap around your body, as your arms wrapped around his neck.

Your guys’ laughs subside as you stare at each other. You take your hand moving a piece of Frankie's hair, out of his face and swipe it to the side. Your heart was beating fast, as you both started to lean in for a kiss. Your nose touches, but you learn your head down, pulling always from him. Swimming back to distance yourself from him.

“I-I think you should take me home now…please...” you whispered.

“Okay…” was all he said. You two swam towards the boat. Frankie got back up first, then helped. He turned on the boat and stirred back to the dock.

…

You both were dripping wet, but Frankie managed to pack extra clothes. You changed behind some bushes into a very large and long shirt that went past your knee. Frankie changed into a plain t-shirt and jeans.

After changing in new clothes and packing things up, you guys headed on the road, Frankie driving you home.

It was silent in the car. Neither of you has anything to say. You had an ongoing battle raging inside of you. You couldn’t believe you almost kissed Frankie, but part of you wanted to. You were so confused about how you felt. You needed to go home and truly be alone to think things over.

“I’m sorry-” You both say at the same time.

You both sign.

“I shouldn’t have leaned in like that-”

“It wasn’t just you Frankie...It was me as well. I should have known better.”

“-Nothing happened.”

“But something almost did, Frankie.”

“So what is this? What are we?”

“We’re not anything Frankie”

“Bullshit and you know that! We may not be together anymore, but we’ve got history. We’re connected. Stop denying how you feel” he snaps at you.

“I don't feel anything, Frankie! You don’t know how I’m feeling! I’m getting MARRIED! MARRIED!” you reminded him.

You huffed, your arms crossed against your chest. You wanted to open but the car door and roll out. You both sat in silence for a good 20 minutes, only speaking when you were giving him directions to how to get to your house you were almost home. You both had cooled off from the argument, but the tension was still high in the air.

As you sat in the passage side of the truck, you noticed something. “Who’s this?” You asked, staring at a polaroid picture that was tapped on his dashboard. You only noticed the photo until now.

Frankie closed his eyes for a split second and deeply sighed. He thought about what you said earlier ‘The questions I ask you today, can you be open and answer them honestly’. He made a deal with you, he had to keep his word. He had to come clean and make things right with you.

You peel the photo off the dash to examine it better. The photo was of a young teenage girl laughing as she smiled. She was outdoors sitting on a log in front of a campfire. Her hands wrapped around a stick with a marshmallow at the end. Behind her, there was a tent pitched up, woods, a lake, and an orange sunset sky that made up the rest of the backdrop.

“That’s my daughter.”

You stopped fidgeting with the photo. You quickly turn your gaze towards him. He didn’t look at you, he stared at the road ahead, his hands placed at the bottom of the steering wheel. You examined the photo some more. This girl had Frankie written all over her. The girl wore his Standard Heating Oil hat and the way her eyes squinted as she laughed was exactly like Frankie.

He didn’t have to tell you because you knew. It clicked. This was it. The answer you’ve been dying to know for years. She was the reason why he left you. Your eyes began to well up with tears. So many thoughts were circling in your head. You were rendered speechless. You had so much you wanted to say but didn’t know where to start. You didn’t know how to feel. You felt overwhelmed.

You kept your eyes on the photo.

“2005, our first break up. When the long-distance wasn’t working when I was stationed halfway across the country.” He began to say. He paused for a moment. “I dated someone for a few months after we broke up, but it didn’t work out with them. A little while after, we got back together. I had no idea she was pregnant. She didn’t tell me. I didn’t find out until she passed away in an accident. I was contacted, they told me I had a 5-year-old daughter and if I wanted to care for her I needed to do a whole bunch of legal stuff to gain sole custody. If I didn't, she would have gone into the foster care system. The night I left you, that’s where I went. I drove across the country to get her.”

You stuck the photo back on the dashboard, then turned to look out the window, watching the tree fly by as he drove down the highway.

“What’s her name?” you asked.

“Lilah...She’s fifteen.”

It was silent in the truck. Frankie said nothing more letting you take in everything.

You sat there thinking about what he told you. You put yourself in his shoes, imagining if you were in his situation at the time.

“I’m not even mad.” You admitted.

“Y-you’re not?”

“I’m more hurt than I am mad, Frankie.” Tears rolled down your face. “I don’t blame you for what you did. You have a daughter and that was your priority. It was important for you to get to know her, take care of her and be her dad.” Your lips began to tremble more tears spilled from your eyes. “I’m just hurt at the fact you didn’t think you could tell me. God, Frankie you should have told me!”

“I was scared! I-I was so scared to tell you! I didn’t know what you were going to think or say! I was afraid you would’ve wanted nothing to do with me after you found out I had a kid with someone else! O-or what if you didn’t want to raise her with me?! It was easier for me to leave you before you did it to me!”

“Frankie, you think I’m THAT terrible of a person? Do you really think I would have walked out on you if you told me? I told you that night, whatever it was, I would have worked it out with you! You had a daughter for crying out loud! Yes, I admit I would have been taken back and shocked, but I would have supported you! I would have raised her and loved her my very own. There's no way I would have turned her away, she half you of you, Frankie.”

“If-If I could go back a-and change things that happened between us, how I ended things-” his voice was shaking, stuttering as he spoke.

“But you can’t Frankie! You can’t change the past! What you did was done, and you’re going to have to live with that! You’re going to have to face the fact I’m getting married! What happened, happened, We just have to let it go...We both have to move on and let each other go”

By the time you said that Frankie pulled up in your driveway, parking his truck. You quickly grab your bag and hop out, closing the door.

“Smiles!” He yelled after you, getting out of his truck, and shutting the door.

You were walking up the walkway when he grabbed your arm. “Smiles-”

“DON’T touch me!” You snapped at him.

“We’re not done talking!”

“There’s nothing to talk about! Leave! Just get out of here!” you cried. You were feeling so many different emotions, you were confused about how you felt, you just wanted him to go so you could be alone. You turn away, walking to your door.

“I love you!” he shouted

Your eyes widen, whipping around quickly. “NO! You don’t get to say that! Not now! What do you want me to say? What the fuck do you expect me to say?! That I love you back?! I can’t! I can’t say that!”

“You can’t or you won’t?! I know deep down in there you love me. I know you do, but you’re afraid to admit it! Too damn scared to admit that you still have feelings for me!

“FRANCISCO MORALES LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE AND GO HOME!”

Alex came rushing out of the house, hearing you yell. He looked at the both of you. You were a crying mess, your hair damps and wearing a T-shirt. Frankie stood there with a pained and angry look on his face.

“What the hell is going on?” Alex had a million questions running through their head but quickly rushed towards you, putting themselves between you and Frankie.

“Baby you alright? You okay?” he asked, cupping your head in their hands.

“Smiles-” Frankie starts walking towards you.

“You need to fucking leave.” Alex turns around, protectively standing in front of you.

Frankie stands there staring at you. Your lips tremble as you avoid his gaze.

“Just go Frankie…” you whispered.

And just like that, he left. Frankie got back in his truck and drove away.

You started to break down, hysterical crying in front of your house. Your chest felt tight as you sobbed. Alex took you into their arms, comforting you.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He says rubbing your back. “Let’s go inside.”

tag // @icanbeyourjedi @im-an-adult-ish

#triple frontier #Frankie Morales x Reader #francisco morales #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

Two

Frankie Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,691

Warnings: Depressed Frankie, big angst with lots of hurt/comfort

Short A/N: Inspired by the ‘Sleeping at Last’ song titled “Two.” It is not necessary to listen to the song, but it does help.

Frankie has a very bad day and somehow winds up at his best friend’s house. When he walks through the door, he’s met with their voice, singing something soft and comforting. Of course, when they see him in the state he’s in, they start to sing something else. Something that truly exposes every emotion in the room.

Frankie rarely had very bad days.

Sure, he had days where everything sucked and he just wanted to crawl under the covers and hide, but those were simple dime a dozen bad days. He had one of those every few weeks, and he knew how to deal with them. A cup of coffee and a phone call usually did the trick to shake away the brain fog.

However, every so often, about once every five or six months, shit just went sideways for Frankie. His bad days were ten times worse than they should be. Everything broke until he wasn’t sure if anything would be okay ever again.

Today was one of those days.

In reality, he should’ve seen it coming. The past week had been absolute garbage. He’d gotten into trouble at his job on Monday and was now on permanent watch for a month, one of his best friends had broken their leg at midnight on Tuesday and he’d been in the hospital until three in the morning that night, he’d been getting less and less sleep until his nights were just as long as his days, and the boys were all busy this weekend and they’d have to skip movie night.

In retrospect, it was the perfect recipe for a very bad day.

When he’d woken up to dismally grey weather and a raging migraine on Friday, he decided the universe was definitely out to get him.

He just barely managed to drag himself through work, simply sitting there with his head low and his back bent as he did his repetitive job, the glare off the computer doing no favors for his pounding head. He didn’t even really react when his boss reprimanded him for mixing up the files. He just took the slap on the wrist with an increasingly heavy heart and headed silently out to his car.

He ended up in a tailspin when he left work that night, going from place to place and just sitting in his truck upon arriving, numb until he managed to put his foot on the pedal and drive off. It wasn’t until he passed your townhouse three times that he actually managed to put the car in park in your driveway and slowly walk up to your front door.

When you’d gotten your own house, Frankie was the first and only one to get a spare key. A spare key he now shoved into the lock and turned, hearing the door unlock. He stepped into the entryway, dropping his keys on their hook and shuffling out of his boots. He may be horribly depressed, but he wasn’t uncivilized.

“Frankie?” Your voice echoed from upstairs, soft music playing in the background that you’d been singing along to. He almost recognized the song, some cheery holiday tune you listened to all year long. “Frankie, is that you?”

Frankie didn’t say anything. He simply stood in your tiny entryway, numb and quiet. He didn’t have the energy to respond, or to walk up the stairs to see you. He merely waited, watery eyes focused on the rapidly blurring carpet on your stairs.

“Frankie?” You repeated, stopping in your singing when he remained silent. “You okay down there?”

Your mismatched footsteps did little to break him out of his own head, the cast covered in signatures slowing you down as you came down the stairs and stood in front of Frankie. You were wearing old red pj pants with white polka dots and an oversized Fleetwood Mac shirt that you’d definitely stolen from him at one point. “Oh Frankie,” you murmured, slowly tracing your hands over his cheeks. “Bad day?”

“Very,” Frankie choked out, leaning into your touch. He knew he looked awful, his face sunken and pale from lack of regular food and the significantly low amount of sleep he’d been getting. You made a small noise of sympathy, taking his hands.

“Let’s go upstairs,” you said softly, pulling Frankie along as you headed into the kitchen. You knew, in this state, that Frankie was pliant, his brain shut off entirely as he lost himself in his own depression. It hurt your heart to see him focus so hard on walking up the stairs, his brows furrowed as he put everything he had into lifting his feet and slowly shuffling upwards. It was so unlike that active and cheery Frankie you knew so dearly.

The music changed when you two reached the kitchen, and your eyes brightened as you got an idea. You grabbed your phone, keeping a firm hand wrapped around Frankie’s hand. As you scrolled, you kicked a chair out with your good foot and put your phone on the table so you could urge Frankie to sit down. Continuing to flick through your playlist, you finally found just the right song and hit play.

“Sweetheart, you look a little tired, when did you last eat?” You sang softly along with the music, snapping Frankie out of his thoughts. You’d sang this to your cousins when they’d been sick and to Santi when he’d been panicking over a minor surgery he needed. It was a lullaby you sang to the boys when they couldn’t sleep after getting too drunk and it had slowly morphed into a genuine comfort. However, Frankie had never heard the first word be ‘sweetheart.’ You always said ‘Dear boys’ or ‘dear heart.’

“Come in and make yourself right at home, stay as long as you need.” You continued, handing Frankie a slice of pizza off a tray resting on the counter. It was still warm, but not hot, just the way he liked it. He looked down at it, a sudden horrible hunger consuming his stomach as he finally realized he’d been neglecting food all day.

You sat at the table with him as he ate the pizza, slowly singing more of the song until Frankie was entirely relaxed into your kitchen chair. “Tell me, is something wrong? If something's wrong, you can count on me. You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat.”

He felt something hit his hand, looking down and seeing a tear. Which was the moment he realized he was crying. Immediately, you stood, wrapping Frankie in a hug and allowing him to bury his head into your chest and finally, for the first time all day, let out every emotion he was feeling.

“It's okay if you can't find the words. Let me take your coat, and this weight off of your shoulders,” you sang gently, taking Frankie’s hat off and resting it on the table. You carded through his hair, swaying slightly as he cried into your shirt.

Frankie pulled away, wiping his eyes and looking up at you. You smiled, scratching his scruff and putting your hands on his cheeks, the coolness of your fingertips positively burning his skin.

“Like a force to be reckoned with, a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss. I will love you with every single thing I have,” you sang, moving your hands and pressing kisses into the patches in his facial hair. “Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess. Or calm waters, if that serves you best. I will love you without any strings attached.”

Frankie froze. He’d never heard this bit of the song before. “What?”

You stopped, not bothering to pause the music that kept playing without you singing another line. “Oh Fish, darling, you’re a mess. Are you okay?”

Frankie nodded, slowly putting a shaking hand on your shoulder. The return of the nickname caused a hole in his chest to open, keening softly until you asked what was wrong.

“Fish,” he whispered out, beyond the lump of tears that seemed to be choking him.

You nodded, understanding every word he managed to pack into that one trembling syllable.

“Okay Frankie,” you said, pouring all the love you could muster into his name. “It’s okay. I hear you.”

You smiled, poking his nose and gently urging him to his feet after a minute. “C’mon Frankie. You need sleep.”

He was limp putty in your hands as you slowly tugged him up the stairs once more, going as slow as he needed to. You opened your bedroom door and guided him to the bed, gently kissing his hairline.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, pulling away. “Just gonna go set something up, okay?”

Frankie nodded, watching you go with blurring vision. He desperately wanted to call you back, to feel your arms around his body and let himself sink into you, losing every aspect of himself.

The sound of running water and your mismatched footsteps snapped Frankie out of his immediate misery. He lifted his head and watched you return to him, holding out your hands.

“I love you,” you said with a smile, pulling Frankie to his feet. “But you smell and you’re covered in sweat.”

He followed you into the bathroom, where your bathtub was already filling, a layer of bubbles sitting on top of the rippling water. The entire bathroom smelled familiar, and Frankie realized, watching you crouch down to grab something from your bathroom cabinet, that you’d used your favorite lavender honey soap. The one you saved for special occasions.

“Do you want help?” You asked, straightening and smoothing a hand over the edge of Frankie’s shirt sleeve. He nodded, a tiny bit of embarrassment pooling in his stomach. Not because he was nervous about you seeing him naked, because you’d already seen him naked multiple times and he’d stopped being ashamed a while ago. He just hated that he had to ask for help undressing, like he was a toddler unable to care for themself.

You, however, simply took the bottom edge of his shirt and lifted it, carefully folding the shirt once it was off and placing it on the bathroom counter. His pants followed, then his underwear and socks, until you were holding his hands and keeping him balanced as he stepped into the tub.

The water was perfectly warm, surrounding Frankie and giving him life as he sunk lower. You smiled, seeing his muscles finally relax somewhat. “Will you be okay if I go grab a cup of water for you?”

Frankie nodded, watching you turn the water off and walk out of the bathroom, leaving the door open so he could hear you going down the stairs and filling a cup with water. You came back up as quickly as you could, soft music following you and growing louder as you got closer.

You set the water down on the counter, next to the folded clothes. Along with the cup, you put your phone down, still playing that gentle music.

“C’mere,” you murmured to Frankie, slowly dragging a stool over and sitting at the back of the tub. “C’mon honey, come here.”

He moved without thinking, shifting in the water until he was in front of you, entirely vulnerable to your actions.

Those actions being you lifting a worn out plastic cup and slowly pouring the warm water over Frankie’s head. One hand moved to his forehead, shielding his face from the water. He leaned backwards, head tipping towards you. His eyes closed as you continued, rhythmically soaking his hair until you deemed it okay for shampoo.

Which was when Frankie really melted.

You smiled, watching every tiny movement he made as you massaged shampoo into his hair. His entire body went limp, softly saying things that weren’t English as you kept going, if only to help relax him.

After shampoo came the conditioner, which he didn’t fight you over. Usually, he just washed his hair and kept going, not bothering to do anything fancy to it. But under your firm fingers, he let you do whatever you wanted.

Finally, you were done, leaving Frankie with a bar of his favorite soap and a small kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll be back, okay?” You said softly, holding his face in your hands.

Frankie hummed, still not ready for solid words in a language you’d understand yet. You smiled, kissing the tip of his nose and walking out, leaving him to wash his body on his own.

It was a laborious task for him at the moment, but by the time you’d returned, he had done it, and you rewarded him with ample praise as you drained the tub and helped him out.

“Think you can dry yourself off?” You asked, holding out a towel.

Frankie shrugged, looking down at the old towel you were offering. “Ayudame?”

You smiled. Over the years, Frankie and Santiago had been teaching you some Spanish, just in case, but mostly for fun. You knew the basics, and it was enough to know what Frankie needed right now. “Okay. Come closer honey.”

Frankie grinned slightly at the nickname, and your heart swelled upon seeing his smile. “How do you say that in Spanish?” You asked, starting to towel him dry.

“El cariño.”

You nodded, tapping his shoulder and nudging Frankie lower so you could reach his hair. “El cariño,” you repeated softly, running your fingers through his hair and making it stick up. You smiled, handing him the towel. “Think you can do the rest?”

Frankie nodded, so you left him alone to grab some spare clothes. Digging out an old ass shirt that no longer had a legible logo and a pair of sweatpants, you headed back into the bathroom, seeing Frankie already in his underwear.

“Here we are,” you said, holding out the sweatpants. “Can you get it?”

Again, Frankie nodded, slowly putting his pants on. When you held his shirt out, he looked at you with pleading eyes, and you helped him slide it on.

“I think it’s time for bed,” you said, taking Frankie’s hand and guiding him to your bed. “Left or right?”

Frankie got into the bed, immediately sliding to the left side. You crawled into the bed as well, turning the lights out and letting the moon filtering through the slats in your blinds illuminate Frankie’s exhausted form.

He made a small noise, spurring you to scoot closer, until he was firmly cuddled up to your chest. You scratched through his damp hair, pressing kisses into his warm skin. You knew that tomorrow you’d have the usual Frankie back. Cheerful and goofy and simply a best friend. But tonight, right now, you got cuddly and broken Frankie. The Frankie who needed to be praised and held and slowly put back together again. The Frankie who needed a lover.

“I love you Frankie,” you murmured, looking down at the top of his head. “I love you so much.”

“Yo también te amo, cariño,” Frankie mumbled, his half asleep voice gliding over you and giving you chills.

The next morning was nothing like you expected.

You woke up to the warmth of Frankie’s arms around you, cuddled up to him, head resting on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat and feel his chest rising and falling with gentle, half-asleep breaths. Rolling over and sitting up with the intent to check the time, you squeaked as Frankie pulled you back into his chest.

“Five more minutes, cariño,” he mumbled, eyes still closed as he chased another moment of sleep.

You sighed. “You get another five Fish. I want coffee.”

Frankie opened his eyes, showing heartbreaking betrayal. “Stay?”

You were a sucker for that look, so you took a deep breath and hunkered down for another five minutes.

Which turned into half an hour of mindless cuddling, but that was okay.

“Hey Frankie,” you mumbled at one point, once the sun had fully risen and was painting your bedsheets with waves of golden light. “Did you mean it last night?”

“Yeah.” Frankie propped himself up on his elbow, looking at you. “Did you?”

You sat up, reaching out to grab his face and kiss him, morning breath and all.

“Yeah. I did.”

Needless to say, Frankie’s bad days may have been terrible and numbing and so desolate he thought he had no one to turn to. But he didn’t. He had you. He would always have you.

#triple frontier #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The loneliest time of the year || Part two

Part 2 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ?

A/N: This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Four messed up pies

By the morning of December 9th a heavy blanket of snow rests upon the world like a tick coat of marshmallow fluff.

A restlessness surges through Frankie as he turns from his left to his right to his back then repeats the process all over again. He kicks away the blankets then pulls them back. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days. In fact sleep hasn’t come easy in a while. It’s a price you have to pay for leading the life he leads, has led. For doing the job he did. You see things, bad things, and they stay with you. Not always but in the quiet moments they creep back into your mind and all you can do is stare and hope they fade again soon. Fill your brain with other things. Occupy your mind.

It’s moments like these that his fingers are twitching and his body is aching for release. For something to numb his mind. Help him forget.

There aren’t a lot of things that Frankie is proud of. In fact he can count them on one hand. One of them is his ability to fly. He's a damn good pilot … most of the time. (He is when someone doesn’t force him to navigate an overloaded plane across the Andes). He’s proud of Rosie. Despite his flaws and shortcomings he managed to create something so utterly perfect, that’s something to be proud of. And the. There’s the little coin in the pocket of his jacket. The one he fumbles with whenever he’s anxious or stressed. It’s gold and smooth and it proudly displays a big number 10 in the middle of a triangle on the front of the coin.

10 months. That’s a proud achievement.

It could be more. It should be more! He really tried but after coming home from Colombia, one man less than they went in, after his girlfriend broke up with him and took Rosie with her. After everything. He needed the psi to stop. Just for one goddamn minute. He felt immediate regret wash over him when he woke up the next morning. Called Pope. Entered a 12 step program.

10 months and he feels better. He likes himself more now. But in those 10 months the voices have gotten louder, the images clearer, his heart feels heavier.

With sleep being so far out of reach, he kicks off the blanket and drags his body out of bed. The smell of coffee hits his nose as soon as he steps out of his room, it drifts from the kitchen all the way up the stairs.

His parents are sitting by the kitchen counter, mom holding onto a big steaming mug of coffee while his dad is deeply invested in the morning. Paper, glasses perched low on his nose. This is home, it sends him straight back to his childhood. If only, he thinks, if only he could provide this sense of warmth and domesticity for his own child.

A knock on the front door shakes him from his thoughts. As he swings it open, a sharp sting of cold winter air whips at him, nips at his nose, his ears and his bare feet.

“Frankie hey, oh sorry did I wake you?”

(Y/N) is once again bundled up in layers of cozy clothes, keeping her warm and sheltered from the harsh weather. She looks cute. Absolutely fucking adorable. But in that moment, he doesn’t really notice that. Doesn’t notice Leo standing behind her either. His entire attention rests on the steaming pie she holds in her hands.

“You made a pie?”

“She made 4.” Leo speaks up, his voice dripping with irritation and annoyance.

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, dude!”

Frankie regards the exchange with a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There’s something so distinctly familiar in the way she interacts with her son, so unapologetically her. The way she’s always been. But now grown up entirely. A mother.

“Why did you make 4 pies?” He asks, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well I didn’t plan on making 4. The first one I mistook salt for sugar so you can imagine how it tasted. The second one I put way too much sugar in, might’ve been trying to compensate for my mistake with the first one but yeah that one did end up in the trash as well. The third … well I got pretty invested in an episode of unsolved mysteries and forgot it was in the oven so it turned out um — “

“Black. It was burned to a crisp.” Leo chimes up again, this time more amused than annoyed by his mother’s baking escapades.

“Yeah. It burned. But number 4 is looking pretty good.”

She looks up at Frankie with a smile so radiant it rivals the sun reflecting on the snowy ground. Pride shines in her eyes as she holds the pie towards him.

“Did you make me a pie?”

“Not exactly. It’s mostly for your folks. They agreed to watch this one while I got shopping for his Christmas presents.” (Y/N) explains, her tumb motioning towards the little boy over her shoulder. “This is a thank you to them for being literal angels. “

“Oh man you wouldn’t be saying that if you had to live with them growing up. I can’t tell you how many times dad unplugged my console while I was in the middle of a game.”

It’s a joke, of course it is. He really lucked out in the parents department and he’s not too proud or too shy to admit it. Maybe, he thinks, the good parent gene might’ve skipped a generation with him. His ex will surely agree with that statement.

“Hey uh — you mind having some company while shopping ?”

“You wanna go shopping for toys?”

“I need to get some presents for my daughter.”

“Oh that’s right, you have a kid too. “

He doesn’t blame her for not remembering. He doesn’t strike people as the father type. And really, he hasn’t seen his little one in quite some time.doesn’t see her during the entire Christmas time. Is he really much of a father anyway?

“Sure yeah! I’d love some company.”

Maybe, Frankie thinks, this will help him drown out the voice. Those that tell him bad thoughts, whisper mean things. Maybe it will help him filter out the images. The blood. The suffering.

Frankie was never overly fond of the extreme commercialization of what should be a peaceful family holiday. But maybe this year he is,a little bit at least. Because those bright colors, the loud noises, the crowds, the ads assaulting you from every corner, that all will help drown out the dark. At least for a moment.

“Alright lemme just get changed real quick.”

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Five days a week

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s uh … it’s a … a game?”

“A game where you have to catch a piece of … poop.”

A wave of laughter tumbles from (Y/N)’s lips as Frankie holds up the brightly colored box, proudly displaying a drawing of a smiling turd.

“It’s so dumb. And that says a lot coming from me, I can appreciate a good fart joke. But this is …. this is just dumb. “

“ It's what the kids these days want. I guess …”

“Would you buy this for Leo?”

“Absolutely not,” (Y/N) replies before taking the box from his hand and placing it back on the shelf between several more games of a similar kind. “But he wouldn’t like it anyway. Leo likes books and animals and fantasy movies. He’s so smart sometimes I wonder where he got it from.”

“You kidding me?” Frankie exclaims, “you’re so smart and if I remember correctly, you always carried around books when you were younger.”

(Y/N) just shrugs at his words though Frankie can’t make out a faint blush of red dusting her cheeks. “Leo is such an easy kid, always has been. Sometimes I wonder if that’s really the way he is or if he just tries to be that way because of me. Because he knows that I have to do all the parenting by myself and he feels he’s responsible for helping me along.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re doing good with him. Least you know what to get him for Christmas, what he cares about, what he’s interested in.”

His heart feels so heavy. His words seem to weigh down on his tongue like a stack of bricks. To admit your own failures to yourself is one thing, to admit them to someone else is quite another story.

“What do you mean ?”

“I — I have no idea what to get for Rosie. I don’t even know when I’ll see her next. She stays with her mom 5 days a week. I only get her on the weekends and even then her mom often finds a reason not to let her stay. Special occasions? I don’t get to spend those with her. Bet she doesn’t even recognize me anymore next time. She’s just a baby …”

This can’t be happening. He’s not going to start crying in the middle of a Toys R Us like a hyperactive toddler on a temper tantrum. Not in front of a beautiful girl who has been nothing but kind to him. This can’t be happening.

(Y/N)’s hand settles on his arm with a gentle touch. Almost as if she’s afraid he’ll break any minute now. And honestly, he might.

“Tell me about Rosie. I know she means the world to you and that’s all that matters Frankie. You’re trying. You’re trying so hard and I’m sure there’s lots about her that you know that no one else does. She’s your baby too. So tell me about her and we’ll figure out what to get her.”

And so they sit down on a swing set, one that’s definitely not meant for adults to sit on and have deep discussions, and Frankie starts talking. Once he starts it’s like a cork has been popped. It pours out of him, all of his pride and admiration and love for Rosie. All that has been brewing for so long now bubbles over.

“... and she, she loves cuddling onto my chest and just listens to me. She doesn’t understand a word but she looks at me with her big beautiful eyes and it feels like I’m telling her all the biggest secrets of the universe the way she looks at me. Sometimes I sing and she — she falls asleep immediately.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Nah I think it's because my rendition of Eric Clapton is just real bad and boring.”

Their laughter is quiet, almost as if they are afraid of breaking the spell of this moment. Sometimes you find yourself at your most vulnerable during the big moments of your life and sometimes you do in the middle of a Toys R Us, sitting on a swingest that just barely holds your weight while a plastic giraffe looks over your shoulder and Kacey Musgrave’s rendition of “I’ll be home for Christmas” plays over the same overhead speakers that have been installed there in 1983.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her.”

He’s already disappointing himself and that hurts bad enough.

“Frankie, let me be honest with you. She’s a baby, she’s not gonna care what you get for her. This is more about you than her. Whatever you get she’s gonna like it. Babies are easy to please, gets harder the older they get. We’ll find something cute for her but um … I think you should call her.”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t have a phone yet.”

“ Really? I had Leo on a newborn data plan the second he popped out.”

Frankie raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“I was joking you dingus. Of course you’re gonna call her mom. There’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, it’s called FaceTime. You can actually see ther person on the other side. “

“ Very funny. I know what facetime is … “

“ Then call them. You said it yourself, the little one doesn’t understand a word of what you’re saying but that doesn’t matter. You’re there. You’re showing interest and taking initiative. It shows you care. And I think seeing her might be good for you too, even if it’s not in person.”

“ You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan. “

“ Yeah? “ she asks him, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, in her voice, in her entire being.

“ Yeah. “

“ Alright! Now let’s go find some presents for the little princess. May I suggest a cellphone? “

This time her laughter isn’t quite. It’s loud and radiant and the way her own joke amuses herself, is so goddamn endearing to Frankie.

“ Ah shut up. “ he replies though his voice too is dipped in amusement as he throws his arm around her shoulders and they walk down the shiny linoleum floor, past dolls and teddy bears and Star Wars action figures.

And it feels right. Like the fit together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces slotting into place.

And that feeling is damn scary.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Six-hour flights.

The floor of (Y/N)’s living room is covered in wrapping paper. Reds and greens and silvers and golds hide what once was a nice dark cherry wood floor. There are bows and ribbons and gift tags in all shapes and sizes and colors.

“ Looks like Santa’s workshop in here, “ Frankie exclaims as he drops down on the floor next to her. All the presents they’ve purchased, neatly lined up in front of them, ready to be wrapped. Though to be fair, Frankie is quite sure he’s not gonna do a lot of wrapping himself. Sometimes you gotta admit defeat. And he ain’t too proud to admit that he is a horrible, horrible wrapper.

“ Yeah, I know I’m making a big fuss over things like this. Wrapping and the tree and stuff like that. I just — I don’t know it just makes me happy when I see that my actions put a smile on the faces of the people I love. “

“ Oh I wasn't judging. It’s sweet. “

For a while they stay in comfortable silence. Just them and the radio playing old Christmas songs. (Y/N)’s hands do quick work on the presents, Santa’s elves would be jealous.

It’s the first time in a long time, that silence doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. That it doesn’t open up the gates for the voices to grow louder and the bad images to consume his head. No, this silence feels comfortable. It’s soft and warm. It’s tinted in golds and reds.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe seeking the company of someone who exudes joy and warmth does him good. Someone who knows him but not the bad. Never the bad. The faults, yes, the fears even, but not the blood that stains his hands or the vices he so desperately tries to fight.

“ What was the best Christmas present you ever got? “ (Y/N) speaks up as she glides a pair of scissors along the ribbon turning it into shiny curls.

“ Millennium Falcon playset.”

“ You and a million other little boys. “

“True. What can I say, I was easily pleased. What was yours ?”

(Y/N) thinks for a moment before a wistful smile settles on her face.

“My bubblegum pink roller skates.”

“Oh, I remember those!”

And he did. Squeaky pink roller skates with 4 pastel blue wheels and glittery silver laces.

“I remember the following summer all you did was skate up and down the street. “

“Yeeeah but that wasn’t entirely because of the skates.”

Frankie combs his hair from his face, he really needs to get it cut, and looks at her in confusion. “Huh?”

Another chuckle falls from (Y/N) ‘s lips. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

“ Notice what?”

“That I had the biggest crush on you.”

Frankie is grateful for the fact that he’s not taking a sip of his drink right then, it surely would’ve ended in a spit-take. He was a nerdy kid, a nerdy teenager too. Kinda shy, a little lost. He wasn’t usually the boy that girls fancied.

“Me? You had a crush on me? “

It doesn’t make sense, not really. She was the one that was fascinating and exciting. Though he didn’t think of her that way when they were kids, he knew she was beautiful even back then. He hadn’t been interested in her romantically because she was a few years younger but that didn’t meanie didn’t realize the magic she held.

“Yes, you. You were cool, Frankie. You were older and you knew stuff about cars and planes and you could name every Star Wars spaceship and you had a skateboard. “

“I was a horrible skater.”

“Sure but it wasn’t so much about the skating as it was about the aesthetic. You were cool and you still are cool”

Frankie shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. She thought he was cool, still does. No one ever thought he was cool. He isn’t a smooth talker like Pope and even he himself can admit that look wise he isn’t even playing in the same league as Will and Benny. But if (Y/N) thinks he’s cool that must mean something. Right ?

“You were the one traveling all over the world with your dad and you thought I was cool?”

She sets down the scissors, let’s her hands rest on her lap. There’s a sense of nervousness exuding from her now. Like the words she wants to speak are resting on the tip of her tongue and yet they are so difficult to speak.

“Maybe that was part of it too. I never had a real home. Nothing stable at least. Except for my grandparents’ house. This was home and you were, you are, forever entwined with my idea of home. Sometimes I missed this place so much that I’d sit in my room and my little brain would think of all the fun adventures we could go on if only I was old enough to hop on a 6 hour flight by myself. I’d ask grandma about you every time I called and she always told me what trouble you got into.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah and that only made you more exciting in my eyes. Then she’d offer to let me speak to you but I was too chicken shit to do it. Thought you might look right through my facade and realize how into you I was.”

“I was so oblivious, I can assure you I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Well … it’s too late now.”

“I guess so. Just — next time you fall in love with me let me know, alright.”

Her laugh rings through the room like bells, like songs, like whispers of a childhood magic long forgotten.

“That only sounds fair. It’s a deal.”

“Good, now …. would you mind wrapping my gifts for Rosie?”

“Nope, but in return would you come see Leo’s play with me next week? My dad can’t come and I think Leo would like to have some more people there that support him. And he seems to think you’re cool so …”

“Huh guess if you both think so it must be true.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Of course I’ll come. “

She smiles and it sends a weird flicker through him. Like fire, like electricity.

“ Now let me teach you how to curl the ribbon properly.”

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #frankie morales x you #francisco morales imagine #frankie morales imagines #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier imagines #catfish imagine #catfish x reader #catfish x you #jos2020xmasspecial

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thefloorisbalaclava · 5 years ago

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pragma - part six

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female Reader

Warnings: smut, light angst, drug mention

A/N: I really hope you all like this chapter. There’s smut but also lots of feelings.

Summary: You and Frankie give into what you have been resisting for so long. And he finally says what he’s been wanting to say.

pragma (enduring love) - a love built on commitment, understanding and long-term best interests. It is a love that has aged, matured and about making compromises to help the relationship work over time, also showing patience and tolerance.

pragma masterlist

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t remember the last time you and Frankie were intimate. Hell, you thought about it all the damn time. What a lot of people didn’t know was that he was your first and your only until you got married. There would always be that bond. You wondered if he still thought about that first time too.

He had been so gentle with you although he was extremely eager. You hid your body from him at first and when he moved your hands, you covered your face. Then he told you to never hide from him—he would always think you were beautiful. And then he touched you and when he finally decided that you were ready for him, he held your hand just like he was right now. He held on and told you to squeeze whenever you thought you couldn’t take anymore. You squeezed a few times but each time you told him not to stop.

People always say that sky’s the limit but he took you above and beyond that night and the look in his eyes tonight told you he was planning to again.

He squeezed your hand and brought you back to the here and now. You looked into his eyes and he kissed your inner thigh gently before dipping his head between your legs. His eyes stayed glued to yours and the intensity alone was enough to make you cry but instead you threw your head back and called out to him.

Frankie.

Francisco.

God.

You used your free hand to run your fingers through his hair as he tasted you, consumed you. He wrapped his free arm around one of your thighs to keep you open for him. And even while doing something so naughty you could feel his thumb caressing your hand. He refused to let go.

“I want to hear you,” he murmured against your thigh. You almost had to look away from the way his lips glistened because of you.

“Frankie. Please, I…oh fuck!” His mouth was on you again and those stars? Yeah, you were seeing them. You could feel him smile then chuckle against you. He knew exactly what he was doing. God, did he ever. He pulled away and put two fingers in his mouth to get them wet then took them out. You made a mental note to mark that down as the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

“Remember…I always make sure you’re ready for me,” he said and you nodded as his fingers rubbed up and down your slit before stopping at your entrance. You held his hand tightly as he slid his fingers into you achingly slow. “You okay?” he asked kissing your thigh.

“Yeah…yes…don’t stop.” You moaned quietly as he pushed his fingers deeper. He laid his head against your thigh as he watched his fingers disappear inside you inch by inch.

“I’m gonna let go now,” he told you, “But keep looking.” You nodded and he let go of your hand. While one hand was busy, he placed the other on your stomach to keep you from squirming away. You ran your fingers through his hair again and he closed his eyes before tasting you, his tongue teasing you at the same pace as his fingers. You would say he had a wicked tongue but this wasn’t wicked at all—it was lovely, perfect, and pure pleasure. And he was enjoying himself too.

He had a hard time keeping his eyes open as he tasted you and the fact that you were pulling on his hair a little didn’t help. Then he opened them and looked directly at you as his tongue flicked over that bundle of nerves. Your hips arched off the bed so he moved the hand he had on your stomach and held your thigh to keep himself between your legs.

“Frankie…Frankie…” His name was all you could say—a sweet prayer to bring you salvation. Your body trembled, a tear ran down the side of your face, and your grip on his hair had tightened. His fingers pumped into you faster now and he once again matched the pace with his tongue against you. He crooked his fingers a certain way that hit the sweet spot inside of you while wrapping his lips around the sweet spot outside and…fuck seeing stars, you went straight past them and into heaven and Frankie was the saint welcoming you to the pearly gates.

“Oh God, yes!” you cried as you hit your peak, pushing yourself against his lips and tongue and holding him in place by his hair. He groaned loudly and you thought he was protesting but his eyes were closed. He loved that you were keeping him in place. You didn’t let go until he laid his head against your thigh, eyes closed and licking his lips. He took his fingers from you and you gasped.

“How was-"

“Come here, Frankie.” You reached for him and he took your hand, moving up quickly to kiss you.

“I need you,” he breathed. “Please…”

“Yes.” You kissed him again. “Yes.” He was holding your hand again as you kissed his cheeks then his nose then his forehead.

“Yes,” he whispered as he gently pushed himself inside you. He buried his face in your neck and groaned loudly. You ran your hands up and down his back until finally bringing them to his hair.

“Look at me, Francisco.”

And he did. He looked right into your eyes as he began thrusting into you slowly. He took you with a gentleness that you hadn’t experienced in years. And every time he murmured your name, you smiled. You knew he was holding back, afraid that he might do something wrong, but all it took was a nod from you and he thrusting into you earnestly. When he saw the tears falling from your eyes, he slowed down.

“Don’t stop,” you cried. You wanted this. You needed this. He gave you a soft kiss before sitting up and holding onto your waist as he pumped in and out of you. Your back arched off the bed and he held you like that, loving the way you reacted to the new angle.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Lie down.”

“Mm…what?” He slowed down again.

You sat up and pushed him onto his back. His head was nearly hanging off the bed so he had to slide up a bit. You climbed on top of him and he gasped as you grabbed him and slid onto him. Looking down at him from this angle was a sight to behold—his hair was a mess, his face was flushed, and his plump lips hung open as he panted.

“Oh Frankie,” you moaned, putting his hands on your hips as you rode him. He was looking into your eyes at first but soon he was looking at your body, admiring you. You guess he was enjoying looking at you from this angle just as much as you enjoyed looking at him. You only wished that you could hear what he was thinking.

If you could, you would hear him calling you ‘fucking beautiful’ repeatedly. You would hear him telling you how you looked like you were floating, flying even, and you were taking him right along with you.

You leaned back, placing your hands on his knees for balance, and moved your hips in circles. He couldn’t get enough—the sounds he made told you as much. You closed your eyes and, yes, it did feel like you were flying. You almost felt like throwing your arms out to the side but you kept them on his legs.

You opened your eyes but now his were closed. “Frankie.” He looked at you and you leaned forward again, putting your hands on his chest. “Make me fly,” you whimpered. “Make me fly, mi piloto.”

“Siempre…” He sat up so quickly that you gasped. He wrapped one arm around you and used the other to hold himself up as he thrust up into you. “Siempre,” he repeated breathlessly, “Por siempre y para siempre.”

“Hold me. Please,” you begged as you matched his thrusts. He wrapped both arms around you and you held him. He looked up at you in awe his pupils blown wide with desire. Your bodies fit so perfectly together. You never wanted to let go. With your foreheads pressed together and you both whispering sweet nothings to each other, you began to cry again.

“I got you,” Frankie said. “I’m right here.” He slowly moved one hand between your bodies and between your legs to touch you. His thrusts became a little sharper and he grunted with each one. “I’m gonna…I can’t…” Then he whimpered.

“It’s okay, Frankie.” You kissed him softly. “Together…” He made sure he worked you up to your peak again so he wouldn’t finish without you. With a few more rough thrusts, he cried out and hid his face against your breasts. You weren’t far behind, scraping your nails down his back as you came around him. He hissed from the slight overstimulation, his hips still thrusting slowly beneath you.

“Dios mío,” he groaned, holding onto you as if you would float away if he let go. He kissed your breasts lazily before laying his head on your chest and closing his eyes. “I wanna stay inside you forever.”

You giggled and kissed the top of his head. “We should get cleaned up.”

“Whyyyy?” he whined.

“We’re all sweaty and sticky.”

“Yeah but for a very good reason.” He looked up at you with those puppy dog eyes. How he managed to look so innocent while he was inside you, you would never know.

“You’re so cute, Francisco Morales.” You kissed his nose then struggled to unwrap his arms from around your body. “We can cuddle all you want after we take a shower.” He finally lets you go and you carefully slide off him. You whimpered and he grunted before collapsing onto his back but not before hitting your ass lightly as you crawled off the bed.

“Damn…I’m gettin' old,” he said turning his head to watch you walk to the bathroom.

“You sure are,” you yelled from the bathroom as you stood from the toilet. You weren’t expecting him to walk in when he did but, surprisingly, you were okay with it. He stood in the doorway and crossed his arms.

“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“Turn on the shower, grandpa.” You giggled at how offended he looked.

“Not that old.” He went to start the shower and you walked over, checking him out.

“Nope. Not that old at all.” You bit your lip just as he stood up straight and looked at you.

“Are…are you checking me out?”

“And what if I am?” You shrugged and stepped into the shower. Frankie followed immediately wrapping his arms around you.

“What’s your favorite thing about me then?” he asked, smiling innocent.

“That right there. That smile.” Your hands slid down to his stomach. “And this.” Then around to his bottom. “And this.” You squeezed and he jumped.

“Hey now.”

Between talking and making out, you two spent way too long in the shower, but you couldn’t remember the last time you smiled so much. Hell, you couldn’t think of a time when Frankie smiled and laughed this way. It felt good. It felt natural.

Now you were getting dressed as Frankie sat and watched. “Are you gonna sit around in a towel all day?” you asked, pulling on a pair of jeans.

“My clothes are dirty.” He thought for a moment. “I keep clothes in my truck for when I sleep in there though.”

“Gimme your keys, I’ll run out and get ‘em.” You held your hand out.

“I took a shower downstairs last night so my clothes are down there.” He stood and walked out the bedroom to head downstairs with you to the other bathroom. He picked up his jeans and reached into the pocket. “Here.”

With the keys in your hand, you walked out to the truck and began looking for his clothes. They were a few things folded neatly on the backseat. “Aha.” You grabbed the faded red shirt and light khaki jeans then reached for a pair of boxer briefs. “Gotcha.” You put the clothes down so you could step down carefully. When you turned around, Frankie stood at the front door waiting for you.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” You walked past him into the house and he closed the door.

“I hope these are okay. I really love these jeans on you.” You took them from the pile to hold them up when you heard something hit the floor. Frankie didn’t seem to hear it because he kept talking as you bent to pick up whatever fell.

“So, you picked them for you, not so much for me,” he teased. He was still smiling even as you stood looking down at the baggie in your hand. You weren’t an expert or anything, but you knew enough. You knew that a powder-like substance in a baggie was bad news.

“What?” he asked as he moved closer to you, finally noticing what you were holding. “I…”

“I’m not angry,” you told him. You closed your hand and held the baggie tightly. “I’m just gonna ask you this: do you want it or do you want me to get rid of it?”

“Give it to me,” he said and your shoulders slunk as tears filled your eyes. You opened your hand slowly and he took the baggie from you before storming off to the bathroom.

“Frankie…don’t…” You followed him ready to beg and plead but what he did surprised you.

“I can get rid of it myself,” he said as he dumped the contents into the toilet and flushed. “See? I can…I…” He closed the lid and sat down heavily. He put his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You rushed to him and he wrapped his arms around you, hiding his face in your shirt. His tears soaked right through but you didn’t care, you let him cry. He nuzzled your stomach and you looked down at him. When he met your eye, you saw a lost boy, you saw how afraid he was. His pleaded with you without words. His cry for help was a silent one.

“Are you gonna leave?” he finally asked. Even if you said yes, you wouldn’t be able to move. He had his arms around you so tightly you were surprised you could breathe.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You moved his arms so you could kneel in front of him. “I’m staying.”

“I don’t deserve you but…I love you,” he cried. “I really fucking love you.” He laughed even as a tear fell from his eye. He sniffled as you cupped his face and kissed his lips.

“I love you, Francisco Morales. I never stopped.” You kissed him and it seemed to make him cry more. “It’s okay.”

“I’m such a big baby.” He wiped his eyes and smiled at you.

You stood and held your hand out to him. “Come on. You gotta put some clothes on no matter how great I think you look without them.”

He took your hand and stood up before cutting in front of you and dropping the towel that was around his waist. “I mean…if you really want me to put clothes on…”

You looked him up and down but shook your head and tried to walk past him. “I’m hungry,” you complained.

“We can get take out.” He blocked you with his body.

“What if…Santiago is wondering where you are? What if he’s worried?”

“Let him worry.” He smiled as he picked you up and sat you beside the sink.

“I just got dressed,” you whined before he kissed you.

“Clothes are overrated.” He pulled your shirt over your head.

“There’s just no stopping you, huh?”

“Listen…the woman of my dreams just told me she loves me even after what she found. Even after I cried in front of her. So I’m sorry if I’m feeling a little frisky after that.” His hands caressed your back.

“Frisky?” you laughed. “Frankie the frisky flyboy. Rolls off the tongue.”

“Yeah, well, I know a few other things that-" You put a finger to his lips.

“Show me then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You were wrapped up in the sheets with Frankie in a post-carnal bliss that you hadn’t felt in, well, forever. He held you close, kissing the back of your neck and caressing your stomach. The silence stretched on but it was a comfortable silence.

“It was old,” Frankie said suddenly.

“What?”

“What you found…I forgot about it…” He stopped rubbing your stomach and took your hand.

“You don’t have to explain.”

“But I do. Look at me.” You rolled onto your back and he kissed you before continuing. “The last time I used…remember when I was gone for a few weeks after I kissed you?” You nodded. “That was the last time.”

“Okay.” You brought his hand to your mouth and kissed it. “I’m not gonna ask you to give it up for me.”

“Are you serious?”

“I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“You can ask me for anything. I would give up everything I for you.” He touched your cheek gently.

“But…it must be so hard. I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want you to be in pain. I can’t stand the thought,” you cried. “I’ve hurt you enough.”

“If you’re with me there won’t be any pain. As long as I get to hold your hand, I’ll be okay.” He laid down and closed his eyes and you rolled onto your side again, still holding his hand. You held onto it even as you fell asleep.

And you hoped to still be holding it when you woke up.

[seven]

Tags: @cable-kenobi @saltywintersoldat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @pedrosdoll @psychobillybunny @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts @thinemineours @huliabitch @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @lavenderl3mons @mrscrain-x7 @fioccodineveautunnale @gooddaykate

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco 'catfish' morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #headcanon

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debbiechanclub · 4 years ago

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BTOOT Trent/Alex Supercut!

Listen, I know that I’ve hinted at Trent/Alex quite a lot throughout BTOOT, starting with the very first chapter. And I know there are a few people who lowkey ship them. So I decided to make a supercut of all the times that it seems like there’s something there for reasons. Perhaps sequel-related reasons.

Anyway, I don’t have a word count for this but... it’s long.

Tag squad: @hotyeehawman @freshlysqueezedmox @comeasyoudar @librathepheonix13 @heelchampbucks @gabbynorth98 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @exe-sadboi-exe (let me know if you want to be added!)

Chapter 1

“Sudden Death” was nothing more than “Never Have I Ever.” But, quite frankly, Alex was a little nervous. She knew this group of people—and she knew they had little to no shame.

“Okay, these are the rules,” she explained. “We’ll play like normal—but Chuckie and Orange will be the only ones putting down their fingers. The first one to put down all three fingers is the loser of the round.”

“Okay, just to clarify,” Scorpio asked, “so whoever still has fingers up at the end wins the whole thing?”

She nodded. “Correct.”

“I don’t like this,” Chuck said, even as he held up three fingers. “Y’all are gonna say things you know I’ve done to make me lose.”

“Never have I ever been a conspiracy theorist,” Frankie smirked. Chuck didn’t think it was funny.

“Especially you!”

“Alright, he actually has a point,” Alex begrudgingly admitted. “Let’s keep it unbiased. Kris, you start.”

Kris put a finger to her lips in thought. “Hmm… oh, I know,” she smirked. “Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs.”

Alex let out a loud burst of laughter. “Maybe if Trent was playing,” she commented.

“Jeez, Alex, just put me on blast,” Trent returned.

She just smirked and took another sip of beer.

Chapter 5

Step one for dealing with jealous, catty bitches was to look hotter than them. Check. Step two was to completely ignore them and live your best life. Check. Two drinks in and hanging with her boys and Kris, Alex was having a great night.

Trent nudged his chin at her. “Wanna do a body shot?”

Chuck nearly choked on his beer. “Fucking what?”

Alex smirked as she leaned toward him. “Are you hitting on me, Trent?”

“I don’t know,” he coolly returned. “Do you want me to be?”

She arched a brow. “My eyes are up here, big shooter.”

He pursed his lips. “Come on. You wanted me to look.”

She bit her lip as she sat back again. “No; let’s not. I don’t want to make Chuckie jealous.”

Chuck just rolled his eyes.

“I do want another drink, though.” She scooted past James and made her way to the bar. As soon as she was out of earshot, Chuck glared at Trent.

“A body shot?”

“Relax,” Trent said. “That was a test to see if Mariposa has joined us. Obviously, she has.”

James smirked. “Nice.”

Kris sent Trent a confused look. “Mariposa?”

Chuck sighed. “‘Mariposa’ is what we call Alex’s drunk alter ego.”

Kris’s eyes widened with excited curiosity when he said that. “Okay, I have to hear this.”

“Alex turns into the biggest flirt on planet Earth when she drinks, as I just clearly demonstrated,” Trent explained. “I guarantee you she’s not coming back from the bar. She’s gonna pick some poor unsuspecting target and spend the next ten minutes fluttering her eyelashes at him.”

“Hence, ‘Mariposa,’” James added.

“When we were in Vegas for Double or Nothing, Mariposa spent all night flirting with Chuck here,” Trent said as he pointed a thumb at Chuck. “It’s what gave him the balls to confess his undying love for Alex.”

Chuck smacked the tabletop. “Okay, again: I was also very drunk that night, and I’m not in love with Alex!”

James sent him a look. “Whatever you say, bud.”

He just grumbled and drank his beer.

“Anyway, we’ve turned it into a drinking game of sorts,” Trent said. “We like to make bets on who she’ll go after.”

Kris laughed into her drink. “Okay, that’s kind of messed up, but also kind of hilarious. Can I get in on it?”

“Absolutely,” Trent said. He waved his hand out over the room. “Please, make your selection.”

“Yes! Okay.” She eagerly looked around, searching for a pick. “What’s her type?”

“She likes beards,” James answered.

Kris frowned. “Hm. Well that knocks out my initial pick, then.”

“Who?” Trent asked.

She smirked. “Maxwell.”

“HA! Oh shit, I hope it’s Maxwell,” he laughed. “That would be fucking hilarious to watch.”

“I don’t think he’d know what to do with her,” James commented.

“Come on, Alex wouldn’t flirt with Maxwell,” Chuck dismissed. “He’s like seven years younger than her.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like he stands a chance, anyway,” Kris said with a nod toward the bar. “Cash certainly doesn’t waste any time.”

They all looked over. Sure enough, Alex was leaned back against the bar with Cash Wheeler standing just in front of her; and judging by their body language, they weren’t talking about the weather.

“Damn,” Trent said. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Alex looks fucking hot tonight.”

Chuck shot him a look.

“What?” he shot. “Like you didn’t notice.”

“I mean, I don’t swing that way and I noticed,” Kris admitted.

James smirked again. “Nice.”

Back at the bar, Alex let out a laugh as she flipped her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder and playfully hit Cash on the arm. Trent looked back at the others. “What did I say?” he said as he picked up his drink. “She’s not coming back.”

Chapter 8

Alex pushed her way back into the Best Friends’ locker room. James sent her a look from where he sat on the couch, watching the monitor in the corner. “Well. You won, at least,” he commented.

She completely ignored him as she crossed the room and sat down in her cubby. She was not in the mood—and it was obvious. He gave an apologetic sigh. “I’m sure Adam didn’t mean to do what he did,” he said. “Things happen in the heat of the moment.”

She continued to ignore him as she rifled through her suitcase. All she wanted was to get changed and leave—

“Alex.”

“What?” She glared at him. He frowned.

“Are you okay?”

The genuine look of concern on his face made her stop. No, she wasn’t okay. But before she could say so, Chuck and Trent came through the door. Neither of them so much as looked at Alex as they walked into the room. She grabbed her clothes and started for the bathroom—but then Trent said something that made her stop dead in her tracks.

“Are you fucking Kenny again?”

Chuck let out a frustrated breath. “Dude, come on,” he said; but Alex spoke over him.

“What?” Her voice came out in a hiss, full of venom. She couldn’t believe the nerve of him, asking her a question like that in front of Chuck and James. It wasn’t any of his business.

But he didn’t really care. “Chuck told me what happened before we left the hotel last week. And after what just happened out there… it sure seems like there’s something you need to come clean about, Alex.”

Alex took a step closer. “That’s not any of your fucking business, Trent.”

He scoffed. “That’s a yes.”

“Dude, lay off!” Chuck unexpectedly burst. “You’re being a total dick right now!”

Trent’s eyebrows arched. “I’m being a dick? She’s the one who’s been toying with your emotions for the last year!”

“WHAT?” Alex exclaimed. She was incensed. It took all of her not to throw her clothes in Trent’s face. Chuck must have thought she might because he jumped up and stood between them.

“Alex, I don’t think that, I swear,” he said. But Trent wasn’t done.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” he spat. “You flirted with Chuck all the time while you were fucking Kenny last year because you knew he’d give you the attention you wanted but weren’t getting from Kenny. You take advantage of his feelings for you, Alex.”

“TRENT, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Chuck whirled around to glare at him. James jumped up and stood between them.

“Okay, now’s probably not the best time for this,” he implored. But Alex had heard enough.

“Fuck you, Trent,” she spat. “And get off your high horse before you break your neck. It’s not like you’ve never tried it with me despite anyone’s feelings.”

She threw her clothes forcefully across the room and started toward the exit. Chuck’s shoulders slumped. “Alex, he’s not speaking for me!” he called. But she was already halfway out the door, trying to ignore the tears stinging at the back of her eyes.

Chapter 9

“I’m not trying to convince you that Kenny’s a bad guy. He’s not,” Trent added, as if he was worried that was what she thought he was trying to do. “I just think you deserve better than what he can probably give you.”

Trent looked back down at the floor, his piece said, and Alex did the same. But then she put the bag of candy down and pulled him into a tight hug. “It means a lot that you think that,” she said. “But you know only I can decide what’s best for me, Trent.”

“I know,” he said as he squeezed her back. “But I want the best for you, too.”

They hugged a few seconds longer before Alex pulled back. “Truce?” she asked.

He smirked. “Truce. I really don’t like fighting with you. You’re vicious.”

Her mouth dropped in mock-offense. “What?”

“Come on,” he flatly returned. “You didn’t need to throw out that comment about me trying it with you.”

“Well, you did,” she returned. “At New Year’s. Remember?”

“Yeah, I know what you were referring to,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “You looked hot that night, sue me.”

She smirked. “Aw, thanks, Trenty.”

“Shut up,” he muttered; but he was smirking, too. “Now are you gonna share those, or what?” He nodded at the Sour Patch Kids. “It’s a two-pound bag.”

Alex genially rolled her eyes as she picked up the bag and ripped it open. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” she said as she offered it to him, happy to have resolved at least one of her anxieties.

Chapter 15

With every word that came out of Matt’s mouth, Alex’s heart sunk deeper and deeper into the pit of her stomach. She felt sick. If what Matt said was true, then it cast that weekend nearly two months ago in a whole new terrible light. While she’d been cuddling in front of a fire with Cash, telling him she didn’t know what she and Kenny were, asking him to share a bed with her, Kenny had been thinking only of her. She’d thought he’d just been too busy to make time for her, when in reality he’d been planning to prove to her how much he cared; how much he wanted to change for her, just like he’d said. And she hadn’t given him a chance to prove it. She’d shot his chance dead in the water. She was absolutely disgusted with herself.

Matt’s voice cut through her thoughts. “I’m sorry. But I had to tell you because I know Kenny won’t.”

Alex didn’t say anything in response. She didn’t even look at Matt before she turned on her heel and left, walking swiftly through the halls to Gorilla, in a daze. Everyone else booked for the tag match was already there when she arrived, milling around, waiting for the show to get underway. Trent spotted her the same time she did him. “There you are,” he said. “Did you get lo—”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Alex had walked right up to him, wrapped her arms around his middle, and hugged herself tight against his chest.

Everyone around turned to look. Trent went stiff, unsure what to do. “Okay, Alex,” he said. “I’m a little confused, but I’m not gonna stop it if this is what you want.”

“Trent,” she breathed. “Please. I just need a hug from my friend right now.”

He must have heard the emotion in her voice, because she felt him relax after she said that. He wrapped his arms around her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said.

There was a thoughtful pause. “Are you good to come out there with us?”

She didn’t answer right away. “I think so,” she decided.

“What the hell is this?” Alex suddenly heard Chuck proclaim. “I know you’re not leaving me out of a Best Friends hug right now.”

She felt Trent pick up one of his arms and make a motion as if he was cutting his hand across his throat, signaling to Chuck that now wasn’t the time for jokes. There was another pause. And then Chuck asked, “Are you okay, Alex?”

No, she thought. But she said, “I just need a minute.”

Trent rested his chin on top of her head. And then she heard James say, “Who do we have to murder?”

Me, Alex thought. But before she could say anything, Best Friends’ music started up.

Trent pulled back and looked down at her. “Are you sure you’re good?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” He squeezed her shoulders and nodded toward the entrance to the babyface tunnel. “Well let’s go, then. We have some Inner Circle ass to beat.”

Chapter 16

She grabbed her phone off her bed and walked back to the mirror. She mussed her long brown hair just so and half-tucked her oversized tank top into her cutoff shorts, adjusting it so that her lacy bralette peeked out of the low-cut neck, and struck a flattering pose. She must have taken twenty photos before she finally got one she liked. It was definitely a little bit sexy; but honestly, that was what she wanted. She opened up Instagram, chose the photo from her gallery, and typed up a caption. Feeling cute, might delete later #ootd. And then she hit “post.” To everyone else, it would just look like a typical girly Instagram post. But when Kenny saw the locket around her neck, he would know.

She tossed her phone back onto the bed and went back to cleaning out her dresser. She got through the rest of the t-shirts and most of the next drawer before she couldn’t stop herself from looking anymore.

She picked up her phone and opened Instagram. The picture already had a few dozen likes, mostly from fans but a few from friends. Trent had already commented. Your pockets are longer than your shorts. She rolled her eyes.

Chapter 17

Friday evening, music streamed through the speakers in Chuck’s apartment in Philadelphia. Alex had made the near six-hour trip from Roanoke earlier that day, and she felt like Chuck, Trent, and James had been falling over themselves to make sure she was happy ever since she’d arrived. Chuck had ordered in cheesesteaks for dinner from her favorite local spot. Trent had bought her not one, but two two-pound bags of Sour Patch Kids. And James was watching her drink like a hawk, waiting to fill it back up as soon as she was done. It was kind of unnerving, especially since he was wearing his sunglasses and she couldn’t see his eyes.

Not that she needed another drink at the moment. She and Chuck were playing beer pong against Trent and James—and they were getting their asses kicked.

Alex closed one eye and poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, aiming for a cup in the center of the triangle on the other end of the table. She shot; and it bounced off the rim.

“Come on,” Chuck breathed. “You’re the only one of us who went to college, you should be good at this!”

“You’ve only made one!” Alex returned with a motion to James and Trent’s nearly intact triangle of cups. “That’s just one more than none!”

While they were arguing, Trent took the opportunity to sink his ping pong ball into their last remaining cup.

“GREG!” Chuck shouted.

He smirked. “Drink up, buttercup.”

“No!” Alex proclaimed. “We get to shoot until we miss.”

“Why bother?” James remarked.

“Oh, you’re dead.” Chuck said. He picked up a ping pong ball and tossed it. It landed in the cup on the right bottom corner of the triangle. He threw his arms into the air. “YES! DRINK, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

James just smirked and took a sip of his alcohol.

Trent rubbed his hands together. “Alright, Alex. It’s all on you.”

Alex got in her shooting stance. She wasn’t sure if closing one eye was helping or hurting at this point; she’d already had a few and was starting to feel it. She aimed and fired. It started to go in a cup in the middle—but Trent used his finger to flick it back out.

Alex’s eyes widened as she let out a gasp. “Oh, you’re never gonna get to see my tits now.”

Chuck choked on his drink. Trent’s eyebrows arched. “Were you gonna show them to me?!”

She gave a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know, maybe. I know you’re jealous that Chuck and James got to see them when they walked in on me that one time.”

“He totally is,” James said.

Trent sucked his teeth. “Man…”

Alex just smirked and took a sip of her drink.

“And on that note,” Chuck said. “It’s time for shots.” He walked over to the kitchen and pulled out four shot glasses. “What flavor does everyone want?”

That was another thing Chuck had done: he actually had made the Sour Patch Kids-infused Vodka. And from what Alex understood, it had been a pain in the ass.

“Blue raspberry,” James answered.

“I’ll try cherry,” Trent said.

Chuck filled one shot glass with blue-colored vodka and another with red-colored vodka. “Alex?” he asked. But she wasn’t paying attention.

“Where’s my phone?” she asked. She looked around the room. She thought she’d left it on the arm of the couch, but it wasn’t there. She patted her pockets, making sure she hadn’t picked it up and forgotten like a dunce; but they were empty. She started to search the cushions of the couch—but Trent walked over to her.

“Your phone? Yeah, I hid it.”

She whirled around to look at him. “What?”

He smirked. “You shouldn’t have left it just sitting out in the open when you went to the bathroom.”

“Trent,” she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Give me my phone.”

He shook his head. “No.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll show them to you.”

His eyes flicked down to her chest. He seemed to consider it; but then he looked back up. “No.”

“Trent…” she whined.

“Alex…” he mimicked.

She pouted. “Why’d you hide it?”

“Because.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “One, it’ll keep you from spending all night glued to your phone waiting for whoever to text. And two, it’ll keep you from drunk texting whoever, which I’m guessing you’re about one and a half drinks away from wanting to do.”

Alex fidgeted under his gaze. He wasn’t wrong. She’d been incessantly checking her phone ever since she’d arrived, each time hoping to see a text from Cash—and each time being disappointed. They hadn’t talked since that night at the hotel, and each hour that went by without hearing from him seemed longer than the last. She knew he was hurt; she didn’t blame him for not wanting to talk to her. But she just wanted to know if he was even thinking about her. And each time she looked at her phone and didn’t see his name, it was like another papercut on her heart.

“He’s right,” Chuck said. “Forget about your phone, and anything else going on outside this apartment, just for tonight. Alright?”

He offered her a shot glass full of bright green vodka. Lime. She thought back to two nights ago, remembered how she’d missed the person she was two months ago. Tonight was a chance to be that person again, even if just for a night.

She took the shot glass from Chuck’s hand. “Cheers,” she said, and she kicked it back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex woke up with Trent’s arm draped over her waist atop the blanket they shared. He must have rolled over in his sleep and flung it across her. She gently grabbed his wrist and picked it up, trying to place his arm down on the air mattress in between them; but he pulled it back and snuggled with his pillow, dead asleep. She smirked to herself. She’d always been jealous of how he could sleep like a fucking rock.

Chapter 20

“Okay. You, me, darts. If I win, you show me your boobs.”

Adam watched as Alex playfully rolled her eyes at Trent’s suggestion. She was a shot of Jose and a beer-and-a-half deep and feeling it; he could tell by the lazy smile on her lips. She always got that smile when she drank.

“And if I win?” she asked.

Trent looked up, deep in thought. “If you win… I’ll pay for your next set of gear.”

“Deal,” Alex immediately accepted, and she grabbed Trent’s wrist and pulled him over to the dart boards, a satisfied grin on his face. Adam shook his head as they went.

“Y’all are weird,” he said with a drink of his nearly empty beer.

“Oh come on,” Chuck returned. “You’ve known Alex longer than us. You were probably acquainted with Mariposa years before we ever gave her a name.”

He shook his head. “No comment.”

“That’s guilty,” James quipped.

“Yeah, it is,” Chuck smirked in agreement.

Adam drained the rest of his beer to hide his grin. He almost hadn’t come out with them tonight—he was surprised they’d still wanted to at all, after what the Inner Circle had done to Orange—but he was glad he had. If he hadn’t, he’d just be sitting in his hotel room, ruminating. About how his relationships with his girlfriend and his tag team partner were falling apart at the seams, about how he wasn’t sure who his real friends were anymore. Buzzing on whiskey and with nothing better to do, he’d confronted FTR back at the arena about what they’d done to Ricky Morton last week, about how Dax had faked a leg injury the week before that—and they’d completely turned it around on him. Something about how it wasn’t personal; how they’d needed to know if they could trust him after all the nasty things Matt, Nick, and Kenny had said about them; something about how he’d always been stuck in their shadow. They weren’t wrong. And with a tag team gauntlet match next week to determine who would get a shot at Adam and Kenny’s championships at All Out, Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to give Matt and Nick yet another opportunity to eclipse him.

“You guys want another?” James asked.

“Yeah,” Chuck said while Adam nodded. “Put it on Trent’s tab.”

James pointed at him as he stood from the table. “Was already planning on it.”

He walked off, and Adam’s eyes drifted to where Alex played darts with Trent. She stood close to him, her fingers laced behind her back, and just as he was about to throw his dart, she tilted her chin up, pursed her lips, and blew into his ear. He flinched, and she let out a loud laugh as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to say something in her ear. Alex pushed him away, a flirtatious grin on her face, and Trent turned back to the board and threw his dart.

“Trent certainly seems to like Mariposa,” Adam remarked.

Chuck scoffed as he glanced over his shoulder. “Are you kidding? He loves her.” He turned back around. “It annoyed me when I had feelings for Alex, too.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“You do realize you’re about to lose, right?”

She pursed her lips at Trent. “We haven’t been scoring properly.”

“But I’ve gotten more closer to the bullseye than you.”

Alex just took another sip of her beer. Trent squared up and tossed his final dart. It stuck in the single bullseye.

He gave her a cocky smirk. “I’d say that’s a pretty definitive victory.”

“Congratulations,” she slyly returned.

He rubbed his hands together, basking in his win. “So, where do you want to do this? The bathroom? Actually, no—I can wait until we get back to the hotel. I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

Alex stepped close and put her hand on his shoulder; he reflexively put his on her hip. She frowned apologetically up at him. “Oh, Trent. Mariposa made the bet, but it’s Alex’s body.”

His head fell back. “Goddammit,” he breathed.

A wide grin broke out over her face. “Come on, I need a refill.”

Chapter 22

There was a beat of shocked silence. Alex tensed, bracing for their reaction. And then Chuck gaped, “Callie broke up with Adam and now she’s staying with Matt Jackson?”

She nodded again. “Apparently.”

More silence. And then Jim said, “That’s a clear violation of bro code.”

“No shit,” Trent added. “What an asshole.”

“Of the highest order,” Alex agreed. “After Adam did what he did, Matt came barging in here to scream at me about how I must have had something to do with it.”

Trent blinked and shook his head, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead, like he didn’t comprehend what she’d just said. “I’m sorry, what?”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Matt thinks I put Adam up to sabotaging them,” she muttered.

“What?” Chuck shot. “Why?”

“Because he’s a dick,” she returned. “He said I had ‘every reason’ to do it and that I have Adam wrapped around my finger just like I do Kenny.”

Alex stared at the floor, anxiously chewing at her lip. Of all the awful things Matt had said, that was what had hurt her the most. She didn’t give a shit what he thought about her—but if there was even a chance that Kenny or Adam felt that way, like she’d manipulated them somehow… she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Trent said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Matt violated bro code by shacking up with his friend’s ex-girlfriend—”

“Major violation,” Jim interjected.

“—and then when Adam retaliated, Matt barged in here and blamed you for it?”

“More or less,” Alex confirmed.

Trent stared back at her, stunned. And then he at looked Orange. “Jim, let’s go.”

He abruptly stood from his seat. Jim did the same, albeit much more lazily.

“What’re you doing?” Alex charged.

“Not letting Matt get away with being a complete fucking asshole to you,” Trent answered, and he went out the door, James right behind him. Alex jumped up and went after them.

“Trent, wait. I handled it!”

“I’m sure you did,” he returned. “And I’m gonna back you up.”

“I don’t need you to!”

“Well I’m gonna back up Adam then, how about that?”

Alex stopped, taken aback by his response. Pride swelled in her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t want to stop him anymore.

She hurried to catch up with them as they marched around the corner toward the Elite’s locker room—and she nearly froze again. Matt and Nick were approaching from the other end of the hall, and they both looked just as pissed as Trent.

“Perfect!” Trent proclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Just who I was looking for.”

Matt’s brow lowered. “Oh yeah? For what? Come to gloat about your dirty win?”

“Yikes,” Trent winced. “Someone sounds salty.”

“What do you want, Trent?” Nick shot.

“That’s a great question, Nick!” They all came to a stop as they met in the middle of the hall, Trent across from Matt, Jim across from Nick. Trent’s eyes narrowed down at Matt. “I would like to know why the hell your brother thinks Alex had anything to do with Hangman screwing you two over when he’s the one who’s trying to screw his ‘friend’s’ ex-girlfriend.”

Matt balked. “Excuse me?” He turned dark, hostile eyes on Alex. “Is that what you told him? That I’m trying to—”

“Don’t talk to her,” Trent firmly cut him off. “I asked you the question, so you fucking talk to me.”

Alex held her breath. Matt glared at Trent. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because the situation seems pretty obvious to me.”

“Yeah? Well then put two-and-two together, Trent,” Matt spat. “You want to talk about screwing? Alex here is fucking one half of the tag team champions, and the other half wants to fuck her. Oh, and the guys who won the gauntlet? She was fucking one of them, too. Probably still is, I honestly don’t know. So yeah, I think she had a hand in screwing us over. More than a hand, pr—”

He was abruptly cut off when Trent’s fist collided hard with his jaw. He dropped like a rock to the floor.

Alex let out a gasp and jumped back. Nick started for Trent, but Jim pushed him and sent him stumbling over his brother so that he had to catch himself against the wall. Matt blinked on the floor, dazed. Trent loomed over him, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“That was for Adam, too. And if I ever hear Alex’s name in your mouth again, I’ll hold you down so she can punt you in the dick.”

He gave him one final threatening glare, and then he turned and took Alex’s hand. “Come on.”

He pulled her back down the hall. Jim didn’t immediately follow them. Instead, he held up his hands, stuck up both his middle fingers at Matt and Nick, and then turned and walked nonchalantly away.

Alex was in a state of shock as Trent led her around the corner. “Holy shit,” she breathed.

“Are you alright?” He stopped and looked down at her hand that he still held. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m okay. Just… shocked.” She let out a breath, “At this rate everyone on the roster is gonna get punched in the face because of me.”

“No, Matt got punched in the face because of Matt,” he corrected. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I think you should’ve punted him in the dick then,” Jim added.

A grateful smile curled the corners of her lips. “Well, thank you. This time I’m not upset that someone got punched.”

Trent returned her grin and gave her hand a squeeze; but then he winced and pulled away. Alex frowned in concern.

“Is your hand alright?”

“I think so.” He flexed his fingers and looked at his knuckles. They were red and angry. “I should probably ice it, though. He’s got a hard fucking head.”

She smirked. “Well come on then, Rocky. Let’s get you some ice for that right jab.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex and the boys had left the arena as soon as they could. After the heartbreak of the gauntlet match and the chaos of the aftermath, they’d decided to grab some burgers, go back to the hotel, and just veg out in front of the TV for the rest of the evening. It was doing the trick; Alex felt a lot better now that she had a greasy bag full of Five Guys fries, even if she did have to share them with Trent.

“I still can’t believe I missed you drop Matt Jackson,” Chuck proclaimed as he bit into a french fry.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad-ass,” Trent casually stated as he sat next to Alex on her bed. “Alex was super turned on by it.”

Alex sputtered out a laugh. “What? I did not say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he returned with a wink.

She pursed her lips and snatched the bag of fries from him. “You don’t get any more for that.”

“Someone sounds called out,” Jim remarked. Trent smirked. Alex glared at them both.

Chapter 23

Alex didn’t want to sit backstage any longer. She hurried to Gorilla and went through the tunnel and down the ramp. She shot Santana and Ortiz a glare as she passed them and ducked through the ropes. They smirked and talked shit, but she ignored them as she knelt next to Trent on the mat.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He didn’t look thrilled to see her. “What’re you doing out here?” he groaned.

She just pursed her lips and helped him sit up. He was obviously in pain. Chuck rolled into the ring and they both helped Trent to his feet.

“What happened?” Chuck asked.

Alex glowered at the retreating backs of Santana and Ortiz. “Santana hit Trent with that baton of his. Bryce didn’t see it.”

“Fuck,” Chuck breathed.

They all exited the ring and went back up the ramp. Trent leaned on Alex’s shoulders and she wrapped her arm around his waist for support as they walked slowly back through the tunnel. Gorilla was full of people when they returned backstage. An eight-man tag match was next, pitting SCU and Private Party against Jurassic Express and the Young Bucks; the winning teams would face each other that Saturday at All Out. Alex noticed Matt and Nick out of the corner of her eye, but she ignored them. Unfortunately, Matt and Nick didn’t give them the same courtesy.

“Sucks losing unfairly, doesn’t it?” Nick smirked.

Alex shot him a venomous glare. “Mind your business, Nick.”

Matt let out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“Alright, seriously,” Chuck spoke up. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit and I wasn’t even there when Trent knocked your ass out.”

“He didn’t knock me out,” Matt insisted again.

Alex scoffed. “Yeah he fucking did.”

He turned his glare on her. “Why don’t you go get bent, Alex? It’s what you’re best at.”

Trent pulled away from her and walked threateningly up to Matt. Nick stepped between them, but he completely ignored him. “I thought I warned you about saying anything to her ever again.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, you did. But you didn’t do shit about it last night, and you won’t do shit about it now.”

“Try me,” Trent challenged.

A cruel, cocky smirk curled Matt’s lips. “Alex is a sl—”

Trent lunged for him, but Nick pushed him back. Chuck ran over and grabbed Nick, spun him around and tossed him away, and with the coast clear, Trent speared Matt into a stack of equipment crates with a violent crash. The four of them starting brawling, throwing fists left and right, but the chaos was short-lived. Jurassic Express pried apart Chuck and Nick while SCU did the same for Trent and Matt. The latter pair fought tooth and nail to get back at each other.

“You want your mixed tag match?” Matt shouted as he strained against Kazarian’s grip. “You got it, next Wednesday. And I’ll make sure I knock you the fuck out.”

“You’re on,” Trent spat. “But trust me: you won’t even get the chance to try before Alex makes your girl tap.”

He shoved Scorpio off him, and he, Chuck, and Alex backed out of Gorilla, the gauntlet officially thrown.

Chapter 25

They all reset, and Shawn served the ball. Chuck easily bumped it back, but when Callie scrambled to hit it over the net, it flew straight up into the air instead. Cash rushed forward as it came back down and whacked it as hard as he could—sending it flying like a missile right at Alex. She didn’t even have time to pivot before it beaned her hard in the shoulder and careened off into the water.

“Shit!” she cursed.

“Point!” Dax loudly proclaimed.

“Really?!” Chuck shouted. “You have something smart to say about Alex spiking the ball but nothing about Cash hitting it as hard as he can right at her?”

“Come on, it wasn’t on purpose,” Cash defended. He looked at Alex through the net. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

Alex gripped her shoulder as she stared back at him. It stung from the impact of the wet volleyball and was throbbing already. There would undoubtedly be a nice bruise there tomorrow. However, to Cash’s credit, he seemed genuinely remorseful—but then she noticed Callie roll her eyes over his shoulder. She bit down on her jaw.

“I’m fine.”

He frowned, but she turned away and looked at Trent. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Serve the ball.”

She rolled her shoulder and turned back to face the net. Trent served the ball. It went right to Peyton and she hit it back over. Orange popped it up, and just like she had before, Alex spiked the ball to the other side.

Crack!

“FUCK!”

Except that time, it hit Callie right in the face.

Blood poured from her nose and dripped into the pool. Peyton told her to pinch her nostrils and tilt her head forward. Cash rushed to her side through the water. He glared daggers at Alex.

“What the fuck, Alex?”

She opened her mouth to say it was an accident, to assure them it was, but no sound came out. Her vocal cords were frozen.

“It was an accident,” Trent returned.

“Didn’t look like it from here,” Dax chirped.

“Oh, shut up,” Chuck groaned.

“It was an accident!” Alex finally blurted. She looked at Callie’s retreating back as Cash helped her toward the pool steps. “Callie, I’m sorry.”

But she didn’t acknowledge her at all, and then Cash whisked her away, holding a towel to her nose. Thankfully, Dax went with them.

“Well, I guess that’s the end of that,” Shawn awkwardly announced. Peyton shot him a chastising look, and then they exited the pool and left, too.

Alex stared in silence into the water. Her nose burned. She hadn’t meant for that to happen. She hadn’t meant for Callie to get hurt. She didn’t want it to be like this between them anymore. She wanted her friend back.

“Hey,” Trent waded over to her. She felt him put his hand on the small of her back underneath the water. “It was an accident,” he gently repeated. “She’ll be alright.”

Alex’s nose burned even more when he said that. “I’m gonna go see if Kenny’s ready to leave,” she said, and she didn’t wait for a response before she climbed out of the pool, grabbed her things, and left.

#aew fanfiction #trent?#trent beretta #best friends #best friends fanfiction #trent beretta fanfiction

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years ago

Text

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 14

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 5213 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Doflamingo, Violet, Baby 5, Trebol, Diamante, Monkey D. Luffy, Robin, Sanji, Usopp, Franky Notes: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Two Days Ago

Law stood at the helm of the Thousand Sunny, one hand light on the wheel as he watched Dressrosa come into focus. Though Law’s own ship was a submarine, he’d learned how to sail other vessels well enough and directed the Sunny toward the port. The sea, as expected, was calm, so there was little maneuvering he needed to do. With the weather warming up as the ship approached Dressrosa, Law had discarded his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, though he was still warm beneath his hat. The ship was eerily quiet, considering whose home she was.

Law glanced down at the hat in his other hand; he could have put it down on the deck alongside his coat and Kikoku, but he hadn’t been able to when the feeling of the worn straw under his fingers was such a stark reminder of those weeks on Amazon Lily two years earlier—where the whole mess Law now found himself had begun.

As Law steered the Sunny into the familiar docks and dropped anchor, the only people greeting him were dock workers, already unwinding ropes in preparation for securing the ship to the dock. Curious. And fortuitous. The last person Law wanted to run into before seeing Doffy was Violet; the less she knew about what Law had gotten into on Punk Hazard, the better for them both. Though she’d obfuscated for him more than once in the past, she’d never outright lied to Doffy for him—and he wouldn’t ask her to, knowing what she was risking. He’d take the small victories where he could find them.

Straw hat still in hand, though with his heavy coat now draped over it, and Kikoku resting in her usual place against his shoulder, Law pocketed his log pose and hopped down from the ship. He peered down the docks to see the Polar Tang shining brightly in the late-afternoon sun. His chest gave a twinge at the thought of the ship that had been home for the last decade. Would she be able to take the Hearts to freedom? Or would she be stuck docked in the Dressrosan harbor without a crew to sail her after today?

He shook his head and glanced back at the Thousand Sunny once more, looking for anything out of place. When he saw nothing, he took a breath and turned back toward the city. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the harbor master hurrying toward him.

“Corazon, sir!” he huffed once he reached Law. “My apologies for not greeting you immediately.”

“It’s fine,” Law said, waving him off.

He really wasn’t in the mood for this, but the harbor master’s mood could be a good indicator of how he would be received in the city; if news from Punk Hazard had reached Dressrosa and Law was walking headfirst into a trap, Doffy likely would have had the harbor master and his workers watching for Law’s arrival and trying to detain him until Doffy himself could arrive. The harbor master, however, like most Dressrosans, was too terrified of the executives to lie to their faces—even on order of the king. That he didn’t seem to be hiding any ulterior motives was a positive sign.

“Shall I call a carriage to bring you back to the palace?”

“I’ll walk,” Law said, talking a few steps up the dock.

“Are you sure?” the harbor master asked, falling in step with him. “It’s no trouble and would be faster.”

Law leveled a stare at the man, and he quavered. “O-of course, I didn’t mean to challenge you, sir.” He swallowed before nodding at the Sunny. “And this ship?”

Law forced his lips into a smirk. “A trophy from a defeated pirate crew. Keep it in good shape until the king can inspect it.”

Doffy loved keeping trophies, from plundered goods and hijacked ships to defeated crews themselves—many of whom turned into merchandise—from his many victories, so the harbor master didn’t so much as blink at the explanation.

“Of course, Corazon.”

They’d reached the end of the docks, and the harbor master bowed Law out into the city before turning back to the dock workers and yelling orders at them.

Law strode the familiar streets of the city toward the palace, ignoring the eyes and murmured whispers of his title by the Dressrosan citizens and the toys as he passed; Law always drew a fair amount of attention when he was out, considering his status as second to the king. Being watched didn’t mean Doffy knew what had happened. He forced his tense shoulders down as he walked. He was returning from a straight-forward mission, as he had hundreds of times before. There was nothing different about today.

Pushing aside his paranoia, Law trekked the familiar streets until he reached the palace. The grounds were quiet as he stepped through the gates, and he licked his lips. He was used to the palace being busy, members of the Family and servants alike scurrying around the grounds at all hours of the day. In the late afternoon, he’d expect to see preparations being made for dinner, but, as he walked toward the courtyard, he only saw a few figures moving about in the distance.

“Ah, Corazon!”

Law started as Rosalie, Doffy’s personal aide, came hurrying out of a side hallway. Forcing his expression neutral, he nodded at her.

“The Young Master asked me to find you once you arrived. He’s waiting in his office.”

Law nodded for Rosalie to lead the way, and she turned on her heel to head back into the palace. As they walked, Law considered whether he was more or less likely to be ambushed in Doffy’s office. On the one hand, it held fewer people, which meant fewer enemies for Law to fend off in the case of an attack. On the other hand, it was more isolated from the rest of the palace, meaning fewer people would know what was happening—not that Law would find himself with many allies in the palace if he was outed as a traitor to the Family.

He shook his head; there was no point in catastrophizing until he assessed what information Doffy had. Instead, he addressed Rosalie. As Doffy’s personal aide, she was aware of more goings on in the palace than most, as she was regularly required to track down Family members on short notice for the king.

“The grounds are quiet. Where is everyone?”

She looked back at him to acknowledge that he’d spoken before returning her gaze forward as she strode forward with purpose. “I believe Trebol is with Sugar. Diamante is at the Colosseum, making preparations for the upcoming tournament. I believe Machvise is with him. Pica is at the training grounds, drilling soldiers,” she said, ticking off executives with her fingers. “Dellinger is at the beach with Jora and Lao G. Señor Pink and Gladius left for a mission this morning. Buffalo and Baby 5 went to the market an hour ago. Violet retired to the library after lunch.”

Law nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. None of that seemed unusual and explained why the grounds were as quiet as they were.

Once they reached Doffy’s office, Rosalie knocked on the door and waited for the king’s call to enter. She ducked inside to inform him of Law’s arrival. A few moments later, she stepped back into the hallway and gestured Law inside.

Law took a steadying breath then strode past Rosalie into the office, suppressing a flinch as the door shut behind him. Doffy sat at his desk, papers spread out in front of him and a pen in hand. Law stepped forward but remained just outside of Doffy’s wingspan—not that it really mattered with his strings. He could have Law trapped with no more than a thought. Law’s fingers itched to activate a Room, but he knew that would only give him away. Instead, he did his best to wrap himself in the cloak that was Corazon, second in command to a Warlord and a king.

Even Corazon, however, knew to wait until Doffy was ready (having learned that lesson the hard way), so he waited. Once Doffy finished signing a document, he put his pen down and looked up at Law. He crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“Welcome back, Corazon.”

Law was unable to read anything in his expression or vocal tone so pressed forward. “Thank you, Young Master.”

“I trust you ran into no further complications?”

Law quirked his lips into one of his trademark smirks. “Of course not. I even brought presents. One is in the harbor.”

Doffy chuckled, a deep, pleased sound that rumbled lightly throughout the small room. “I heard.” Of course he had. “Very impressive. What else?”

Law pulled the straw hat out from under his coat and tossed it onto Doffy’s desk. Doffy froze as he realized what had landed in front of him.

“A trophy,” Law said. “From the head of one of the Worst Generation.”

“Take it, Torao. If it’ll make Mingo believe I’m dead, then take it.”

“Straw Hat-ya, I can’t take this.”

“Shishishi, I know you’ll give it back. I trust you!”

“This hat—” Doffy murmured, turning the worn thing over in his hands, the straw crinkling in the quiet between the two pirates. Doffy looked up sharply at Law. “Do you know who this hat belonged to?” At Law’s frown, Doffy shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, voice gentling. “This is quite the prize.”

Law blinked and caught the hat on instinct when Doffy tossed it back to him.

“You defeated its wearer, my Corazon. It is your trophy.” His lips twitched. “Though I think your own hat suits you better.”

Law snorted. “Not a lot of use for a straw hat in the North.” And Law was, at his core, a child of the North Blue—of winter islands and warfare.

“Indeed.”

“Was there anything else?” Law asked, raising an eyebrow. Impertinence was one of his defining traits, after all.

Doffy waved him off, already looking back toward the paperwork in front of him. “Dinner’s in an hour. Get yourself cleaned up.”

Law gave a shallow bow then turned to leave. Presenting his back to Doffy was one of the hardest things he’d done in a long time, but he forced himself to offer that vulnerability, since, if nothing were wrong, Doffy at his back would be no threat. Breath caught in his throat, Law headed out of Doffy’s office, part of him waiting to be impaled with an onslaught of strings…

But it never came.

He let out the breath he’d been holding when the door shut behind him and very nearly slumped against the wall. But the walls had eyes in the palace, so Law instead straightened his spine and headed to his chambers. He wanted nothing more than to make a direct line to the Hearts’ wing of the palace to check in with his crew, but with the distance he’d kept from them in the previous years, doing so would look out of character.

He encountered only a few servants as he headed for his room. Once he shut the door behind him, he leaned back against it tiredly and ran a hand over his face. He hadn’t been locked up in Seastone and thrown in the dungeon yet, so that was a good sign. Maybe, just maybe, he could get his crew out after all. They’d be on the run, but that would be better than the prison they found themselves in now—and they had allies.

Law dropped his coat on his bed and rested Kikoku on top of it. He placed the straw hat on his desk and pulled his Den Den Mushi from his coat pocket. He put the snail on the desk next to the hat then went into the bathroom, as if to wash up; instead, he activated a Room. He Scanned for the surveillance snail in the vents that kept an eye on his room and, with a quick Shambles, switched it with a snail he’d set up years earlier to broadcast a recorded feed of his empty room. Now it would simply appear that Law was in the shower. He’d found the surveillance snail immediately after he’d moved into the palace at seventeen, though he had no idea how often Doffy checked the feed nearly a decade later. The snail had never been removed, though, so Law worked under the assumption that the Warlord regularly monitored it to be safe.

Law then stepped back into the bedroom and went over to his desk. He pulled out a scrap of paper and scribbled a note: After dinner. Crew meeting. He folded it and pushed his Room in the direction of the Hearts’ quarters until he found Bepo’s room. The bear wasn’t in the room at the moment, but that was not unusual at this time of day. Law switched his note with pen on Bepo’s desk then retracted his Room once more.

That done, he turned to his Den Den Mushi and dialed. He only had to wait two rings before the other side picked up.

“Torao, it’s about time!”

“I told you to give me until nightfall to check in, Straw Hat-ya,” Law snapped, glancing out the window at the late afternoon sun. “I’m early.”

“But it’s boooooring on your ship,” Luffy whined.

Law rolled his eyes. Before arriving in Dressrosa, he’d come up with a plan to sneak the Straw Hats in without them being noticed. Because Doffy had eyes on all the ships coming into and going out of the harbor, it was imperative the Straw Hats stay out of sight as the ship approached. They would stay below deck as Law steered the Thousand Sunny into the harbor.

Then, while Law then checked in with Doflamingo at the palace, pretending the Sunny was a conquest of their fight, the Straw Hats would use their submersible to make their way to the Polar Tang; Doffy would undoubtedly have his men examining the Sunny to see what Law had brought him, so it would be a poor hiding place. The Tang, however, was generally left alone except for some basic maintenance, meaning she would be safe for the Straw Hats to hide out in until Law could contact them with an update and to decide their next move. He’d left them with a hand-drawn map of the palace as well as a rough map of the city itself for them to study while they waited.

Luffy had protested, wanting to see the city and, naturally, try the local cuisine, but his crew had reminded him that they were all supposed to be dead; being recognized would put Law and his nakama in danger, and—after his suggestion that they go into the city in disguises was thoroughly shot down—that had quieted his complaints.

Mostly.

“Boring?” Franky called, affronted, from somewhere in the background. “This ship is super! I want to know everything about her, Tra-bro!”

Law sighed. “Please tell Robo-ya to refrain from destroying my ship before we leave Dressrosa.”

“We’ll rein him in, Torao-kun,” Robin promised, though there was humor in her voice. “What happened with Doflamingo?”

“Mm, yeah. What happened with Mingo?” Luffy echoed. It sounded like he was moving around the Den Den Mushi, likely bursting with pent up energy. Law only hoped his ship would survive the Straw Hats’ cyborg and its bored captain.

“He seemed to take my report at face value,” Law said. “But there’s no telling when he’ll hear from his sources in the Marines about what happened. We’ll still need to move quickly.”

“When do I get to kick his ass?” Luffy asked. Several of the Straw Hats groaned in the background.

“That’s not the point of this, Luffy,” Robin reminded him, not unkindly. “The goal is to get Torao-kun and his nakama out of Dressrosa unnoticed.”

“We’re trying to avoid a fight with a Warlord, Luffy!” Usopp added, a tinge of panic in his voice.

“Fine,” Luffy grumbled.

“I’m expected at dinner with the Family this evening,” Law said, breaking in. “If I skip it, it’ll raise suspicions.”

Luffy whooped in excitement at the thought of food, and Sanji snapped that he’d brought food from the Sunny, which only made the younger captain more excited.

Law grimaced, wondering not for the first time why the mysterious pull in his chest had brought him to these people. He knew the Family was its own type of ridiculous, but the Straw Hats took that to a whole other level. Why did he think he could entrust something as important as his nakama’s lives to them?

“I’ll see my nakama after dinner and contact you then,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Good luck,” Robin said over her chaotic crewmates.

“Same to you,” Law replied then hung up.

For a moment, he stared at the snail then at the hat on the desk next to it. This was a terrible idea, but Law was already in too deep to turn back now.

After a quick shower to wash off the travel and battle from the last two days, Law changed into a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt then switched the surveillance snail back to the one with live feed and dropped his Room. Pulling his hat on, he glanced at Kikoku but decided not to bring her to dinner; he didn’t usually walk around the palace grounds with the nodachi in hand. His head was starting to ache—the concussion symptoms, while improving, were still bothering him—so he took some painkillers before heading to the dining room.

Though Law was on edge, dinner was a standard Family affair. The only executives not present were Señor Pink and Gladius, who were off the island. Law easily fell into his typical standoffish self, meandering into the dining room a couple of minutes late and sliding into his seat with an insincere smirk. Doffy, who was in the middle of a discussion with Trebol, merely raised an eyebrow at him, and Law shrugged. Doffy huffed once before turning back to Trebol.

Law rarely invited conversation at meals, though Baby 5 wanted to tell anyone who would listen—and for some reason, she thought Law was listening—about the wares she’d found at the market. Law ignored her, picking at his plate without much enthusiasm. The food, as always, was excellent—Doffy had high expectations of those who worked for him; Law’s stomach was simply tied in knots. It was a good thing Law rarely finished his meals, so his lack of appetite tonight didn’t appear unusual.

More than once, Law looked up to see Violet trying to catch his eye from several seats down the table. Law shook his head minutely and looked back down at his plate. He didn’t need to get her involved in this.

Law started when he felt a smack on his arm. He rubbed it with a frown at Baby 5. “What was that for?”

“Are you even listening to me, Corazon?”

Law snorted. “Of course not.”

Baby narrowed her eyes. “You’re such a jerk,” she muttered.

“Don’t act so surprised, Baby,” Law replied, lips twitching. It was easy enough to fall into this familiar pattern of banter with her.

She sighed dramatically. “You have been a jerk since you were ten.”

Law rested his chin on his hand, angling himself toward her slightly. “You want me to hear about your day, but you didn’t even ask me how my mission went.”

She scrunched up her nose then sighed resignedly. “How did your mission go, Corazon?”

Law shrugged, turning back to the table. “Fine.”

“You asshole!” she squawked, whacking him in the arm again. “Did you get rid of all your manners with your spots?”

Law gaped at her a moment before laughing in surprise. He would miss this; Baby was one of the only members of the Family he cared about. She’d been one of the few things that made his return to the Family tolerable.

“Just my people skills.” He picked up a piece of silverware from the table. “I still know a salad fork from a dessert fork.”

The rest of their conversation was cut short as Doffy pushed back from the table and rose. He nodded at the members of the Family gathered around the table.

“The rest of the night is yours. I have work to attend to.” He glanced to the side. “Pica, Machvise, a word in my office.”

As the summoned executives stood to follow Doffy from the dining room, Law pushed himself away from the table and headed for the hallway. He had a few things he needed from his room before meeting with his crew so headed that way; he could have just opened a Room and summoned them, but something told him to reserve his stamina for now.

He was about halfway to his chambers when he stopped. “What do you want, Violet?” He turned to see her turning a corner to face him.

She crossed her arms. “Why were you ignoring me at dinner?”

Law suppressed a sigh. “Because I’m an asshole.”

“True, but that’s not it. Try again.”

“I have a lot on my mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” Law started to turn back toward his room. He knew he was being unfair to her, but he didn’t want her reading him. Not today.

“Corazon, stop. Something is going on with you.”

Law turned back to her, jaw clenched. “Violet, don’t.”

“I can just read you to find out,” she threatened, lifting her hands.

Law grabbed her wrists before her hands could reach her face. “Don’t.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Let go.”

“Don’t try to read me, Violet,” Law practically growled. “I mean it. Not this time.”

She let out a huff then nodded. “Fine. Now let go.”

He released her wrists, and she rubbed her left wrist absently. “Something happened on your mission.”

Law chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before agreeing, “Yes.”

“What can I do?”

He blinked at her in surprise. “What?”

“If you’re in trouble, let me help.”

Law shook his head. She’d been trying to help him almost since he arrived in Dressrosa, and now the only way he could repay her was to keep her out of this mess. She had her father and niece to think about.

“Not for this one.”

“But—”

“Let it go, Violet.” Then he did open a Room and Shamble himself into his chambers, leaving a pen in his place in the hallway.

Years of practice with his powers allowed him to avoid landing awkwardly on his desk, and he dropped to the floor. He opened a drawer in his desk and pushed aside the items inside. He pressed on the right spot, and the false bottom opened. He reached in and grabbed the papers inside then replaced the false bottom and shut the drawer. He spread the papers out on his desk: blueprints of the castle. Violet had once mentioned that there was a secret passageway in the castle that only the Riku family knew about. She hadn’t revealed its location, though, and Law hadn’t asked.

If he could find that on the blueprints now, perhaps he could use it to get his crew out without being detected. He leaned over the paper with a frown, looking for anything that looked out of place or that he didn’t recognize. He could have asked her in the hallway just now, but he didn’t want what he was looking for getting back to Doflamingo—not before he and his nakama were gone, anyway.

He was so focused on the blueprints that he was taken by surprise when his door slammed open, rattling on its hinges. Law jerked upright but didn’t have a chance to react before a wave of mucus slammed him into the far wall. Law’s head slammed back against the wall. His vision darkened, and his body went slack, air leaving his lungs in a sharp exhale.

Goddamn concussion, he thought blearily as the world slowly started coming back into focus in front of him. His doctor side was distantly outraged at the battering his brain was taking, but the rest of him—the part in the here and now—was just trying to breathe.

As he came back to his senses, the first thing he recognized was that he was being held upright against the wall by Trebol’s mucus. Gross.

The shapes in front of him slowly materialized into Trebol and Diamante standing in his doorway.

“What the fuck, Trebol?” Law growled, though his voice lacked the power he wanted to put behind it.

“That’s what we should be asking you, Corazon.”

Law’s stomach dropped as Doffy entered the room behind his two executives. Law could feel the anger radiating off him.

He knows, Law realized. I wasn’t fast enough, and he knows. Fuck.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Law said, glancing around to assess his options. Though the mucus was holding him to the wall, his lower arms were free, so he could still form a Room. Kikoku was on the bed, but he could summon her with a Room.

He just had to do it at the right moment.

Doffy paused at Law’s desk and looked down at the papers. “Blueprints of the castle?” He turned back to Law. “And how did you get your hands on these?” Then he shook his head. “Never mind. I know how resourceful you are. And why would you need blueprints of the castle? Looking for an escape route?”

“Escape? Because that’s gone so well for me in the past,” Law scoffed, though he knew it wasn’t lost on Doffy that he’d side-stepped the question.

“I just heard from some sources in the Marines,” Doffy said, resuming his approach into Law’s space. “You’ll never believe who they have in custody.”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

Law winced as a string sliced through his cheek. It was a shallow cut, but blood dripped down the side of his face. A warning.

“Monet and Caesar,” Doffy said, tilting his head as he looked down at Law. “And I can’t imagine how that could be when you told me you saw them this morning, Corazon.”

Law licked his lips, hating the way he had to look up at the Warlord. “I did see them this morning.” That wasn’t a lie. He’d just… withheld the condition he’d seen them in. “If they were careless enough to get arrested after I left, that’s not on me.”

Another string sliced through Law’s cheek, this one a bit deeper, just below the first cut.

Doffy leaned over to whisper in Law’s ear, “I’d be very careful of what you say next.” The temperature dropping with Doffy’s icy words.

Law swallowed but remained silent. Doffy could probably feel the racing of his heart at this proximity.

“I’m only going to ask once. Did you see Vergo on Punk Hazard?”

“I thought Vergo was here.” Which was true—he had thought that, until Vergo had shown his face on the Straw Hats’ ship the day before.

Doffy straightened and, eyes never leaving Law’s, pulled a Den Den Mushi from his coat. He dialed a number from memory.

The discarded coat on Law’s bed started to ring.

Law cursed silently. He’d completely forgotten to get rid of Vergo’s Den Den Mushi. He’d planned to look it over on the trip from Punk Hazard, but he’d gotten distracted by making plans to get the Straw Hats into Dressrosa, and the snail had remained untouched in his pocket.

Doffy finally tore his gaze from Law and went over to the bed. He grabbed Law’s coat and dug around until he found the buzzing snail. Law’s own Den Den Mushi was on his desk and silent, cutting off that potential excuse.

“This is Vergo’s Den Den Mushi.”

“I…”

“Vergo’s dead,” Doffy said, the snail still ringing in his hand. Doffy’s voice remained low, and Law had, from his childhood, found Doffy’s restrained fury far more terrifying than when the man lost his cool. “His heart had been removed from his chest and squeezed.”

Law was well and truly fucked.

Deciding he had nothing to lose, he flexed his fingers ever-so-slightly in preparation to open a Room—

Then cried out as a blade impaled itself through the palm of his right hand.

It took a moment for his abused brain to register why, other than the pain, this was such a problem.

It was his dominant hand.

The one he used to wield Kikoku.

The one he used to control his Fruit.

The one he led with in surgery.

Oh.

“Nuh uh,” Diamante said from the other end of his waving blade. “No tricks, boy.”

“Nene, Corazon. Don’t surgeons need their hands?” Trebol chuckled.

Law made a choked sound as Diamante pulled the blade out. His thoughts spun as his hand dripped blood to the carpet beneath him. He’d felt worse pain than this—nothing he’d experienced had been worse than the final stages of Amber Lead Disease—but this was his hand.

“I can do the other one, Doffy. Make sure he can’t pull anything,” Diamante offered.

“No,” Doffy said, eyeing Law. “He’s no good to me if he can’t use his Fruit.”

Trebol’s mucus retreated, and Law fell forward. Without thinking, he reached out with his hands to catch himself then crumpled into a heap with a cry, hand coming to his chest as an electric shock jolted from his hand through his entire arm. The breath caught in his throat and the room around him fuzzed.

He’d failed.

He’d failed as an executive.

He’d failed as an ally.

He’d failed as a surgeon.

He’d failed as a captain.

He’d failed as a friend.

He’d failed Cora-san.

He barely registered the snapping of Seastone restraints around his wrists, the little strength he had left draining from his body as he went limp on the floor.

From somewhere above him, Doffy spoke, though Law couldn’t make out the words. He winced but didn’t struggle as Trebol and Diamante each grabbed one of his arms. The two executives dragged him bodily down the hallways of the palace, his feet trailing limply behind him. In his peripheral vision, he caught Violet’s shocked expression as the procession passed.

Law grimaced as they reached the stairs to the dungeon but didn’t have the strength to try to get his feet under him, so his legs thumped against each stone step as he was taken down. At the bottom, Trebol and Diamante exchanged a few words with the guard then followed him to what Law assumed was one of the Seastone cells. The guard opened the door, and Law was pulled into the cell and shoved against the wall, forcing the breath from his lungs. The chain between his wrist shackles was hooked above Law’s head before all the figures retreated.

Law slumped forward in defeat.

But he jerked upright at a familiar voice.

“Captain?”

Next chapter

#This kind of exploded on me #trafalgar law #Donquixote Doflamingo #Caitlin's fic #One Piece fanfic #One Piece fanfiction

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managedmischiefs · 4 years ago

Text

north//chapter eight

okay this is the reblog of this chapter because I thought I fucked up. sorry to those on the taglist who are getting tagged a second time. please enjoy and ignore my craziness!!

genre: angst, some fluff

warnings: hospitals, mentions of family death, guns, and drugs

word count: 11.1k

AMELIA

I drag myself up the stairs of my apartment, rubbing the sleepiness out of my eyes. I nearly trip off the top stair in my tired haze but I manage to catch myself on the railing before I faceplant. My bedroom is dark and is only lit by the moonlight from the open window, but I wasn't sleeping anyway. I haven't gotten a full night’s sleep since Spencer left. I won't until he gets back and we can argue about who’s hogging the covers and he can kick me in his sleep and I can lay my head on his chest.

I climb back into bed and tuck my legs under the duvet, trying my hardest to get comfortable on top of my freezing sheets. But before I can, my phone starts buzzing on the bedside table. I groan, cursing whoever is trying to call me at two in the morning. Unless it's Jenna or Frankie or Yaz and they're drunk and need a ride home, because this definitely wouldn't be the first time that happened. I reach over and pull my phone out of the charger, my blood running cold when I find Penelope’s contact. What in the world is she calling me about at two in the morning? What if it’s about Spencer? Is Spencer okay? Did he get hurt? Is Mike okay? She has never called me this late before and now that Spencer is upset while chasing a serial killer, his margin of error is so much smaller because he could let his emotions bleed into his work life.

I brace myself for the worst and squeeze my eyes shut. "Hello?"

"Oh, thank god!" Penelope exclaims and I can hear that she's out of breath. "I know it's 2 am where you are but I called you three times and you didn't answer and-"

"Penelope," I instantly shut her up. My hands are starting to shake and I feel my chest getting tight in a hauntingly familiar way. "What's wrong?"

"There," she lets out a shaky breath, "there was this crazy shootout at a diner and the unsub went nuts and Spencer was wearing his vest but-" I gasp, tears falling down my cheeks already, "he got hit in the neck. He's in surgery now and me and our unit chief just landed in Texas but I thought you'd wanna know," I let out a strangled sob, falling back against my pillows and curling up. "I'm so, so sorry, Amelia. I-I wish I didn't have to make this call. But there's one more thing I have to tell you."

"No," I whimper, covering my face with my hand, "no more, please."

"The Sheriff," my breath catches in my throat and my hand drops from my face to grasp at the bedsheets, "he was there too."

"He's okay, Penelope," I beg and plead more than I have in the last few years. "Please tell me he's okay. Please tell me he's okay. I can't- please."

"He's fine," Penelope tells me quickly. "He got shot twice but they both hit his vest. He's got some bruises but he got discharged from the hospital a couple of hours ago. I just thought you should know. I'm on my way to the hospital with our section chief to check up on Spencer."

"Wait,” my eyes widen, a waterfall of tears cascading down my cheeks, “Penelope, how do you know about Mike-"

"Rossi," Penelope admits shamefully. "After the whole weird thing when he recognized you, he made me do a background check on you and-"

"Oh my god.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! He's one of my higher-ups! I had to! But when you think about the positive side, me doing that background check on you allowed me to know about Mike and I could ca-"

"I-I gotta get out there, Penelope," I stumble off my bed and rush towards my closet, lugging out the first duffle bag I see and stuffing random articles of clothing inside. “I need to see Mike and-and I need to see Spencer.”

"Don't worry about a ticket. I'll get one for you. Just pack and get to the airport."

I hang up and toss my phone aside, failing at containing my tears as I hastily pack for an emergency trip to Texas. I notice a small stack of clothes folded in the corner of the room, and I remember that Spencer left some sweats here the last time he slept over. So I stuff those in my bag too and then check my phone again, finding flight information from Penelope and responding with a million thank you's. I step into converse and don’t even take the time to tie them before I rush out of my house and to the airport.

I'm sure I look like a complete mess as I drag myself through security, checking my phone every few seconds for some sort of update from Penelope. She only texts me once, telling me that Spencer is still in surgery, and that’s it. Nothing else. My cheeks are tear-stained and I occasionally burst into tears and I’m sure that everyone thinks I’m absolutely crazy. But once I get onto my red-eye, I have a row to myself where I can cry in peace.

Thankfully, the flight is short and I only have three hours to stress, but it's an excruciating three hours. I'm left to wonder if my boyfriend is going to make it off the operating table. I wonder if he's going to die not knowing that I'm in love with him. I wonder if he's going to die and his last memory of me will be my freezing cold shoulder. I'd never forgive myself if that happens. I don't think I could live if that happens.

The wheels touch down in Texas and I don’t even have the change to revel in the fact that I’m back in the place where I spent parts of my childhood. I can’t grin at the ice cream shop that I went to with my brother and I can’t feel angry when I pass by the doctor’s office that my dad dragged me to. I just hail a cab and stare down at my phone, waiting for it to light up with a notification. I tell the cab driver to take me to Mike’s station, and I’m sure he’s just another person who thinks I’m crazy for going to a police station at six in the morning. I barely choke out a thank you when I pay the driver and then go rushing out of the cab and into the station.

I recognize some of the members of the BAU standing all the way at the back of the station but I see Mike first, and I start crying again. His face lights up when he sees me he instantly pulls me into a hug, nearly lifting me off the ground. I guess nobody told him I was coming.

"Are you okay?" I squeeze him as tight as I can, not caring that my iron tight grip might be hurting him more than he was before. "Penelope- she told me what happened and, oh my god, are you okay?" I pull away and inspect his face, searching for any injuries on his face, the same way I do to Spencer when he comes home from cases.

"I'm fine, Amelia. That technical analyst got you here?" I unravel myself from his hold and nod. "I'm happy to see you, but I know you wanna see Spencer. I'll bring you to the hospital."

Mike leans down to pick up the bag that I had dropped to the floor, gesturing to the door and leading me away. "I'm sorry. You know I miss you, I just-"

"I know," he cuts me off, pulling away and grabbing my duffle bag. "Let's go," As he leads me out, I turn my head and find one of my paintings up on the wall. Mike smiles, nudging my arm, but he grabs me and pulls me out faster. "I hung it up, I always do. Gotta brag about your talent."

We get into Mike’s cruiser and he heads off to the hospital, silence falling over us. He doesn’t know what to say to me and I’m too worried that if I speak, then I’ll never be able to stop crying. I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head fall onto the window, staring at the passing sights that I know so well. But then my mind wanders back to Spencer and how he must be feeling right now. Can he feel anything? Is he still in surgery? Is he still mad at me? Does he even want me here? The last time I saw Spencer, he was snarling and hissing at me and he hasn’t texted me at all since he left for this case. I made the wrong decision. He doesn’t want me here. I shouldn’t have come.

My hands fly up to cover my face as a new wave of tears fall down my cheeks. “He’s mad at me.”

"What? Amelia, what are you talking about?”

"Me and Spencer," I hiccup, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. "I met the BAU team and Dave recognized me and I recognized him and I ran out because I didn’t want him to say anything. But I haven't told Spencer anything yet because I'm scared he'll hate me and he was so mad at me because I left so quickly and I was such a shitty person to his friends and he’s not gonna wanna see me-"

"Oh, my gosh, Amelia, breathe. Of course he'll wanna see you. He's in recovery and he's been through a lot and he's gonna need your support," Mike pulls into the hospital entrance and it's the first time since Penelope called me that I've felt any type of relief. "Come on, we're here.”

I hop out of the car and it takes everything in me to not break into a sprint to get inside the hospital as fast as possible. So I wipe my cheeks and watch Mike grab my duffle bag and carry it inside, trailing far too slowly behind him. Mike signs us into the hospital and I don't even bother to put on my visitor sticker, I just let Mike hold it as he leads me into an elevator. My heart is pounding against my chest and my hands are shaking beyond control, but I can't stop either of those things. Not until I see Spencer breathing.

The elevator jerks to a halt and the doors slide open, my senses filling with the nauseating smell of bleach. My eyes search frantically for any sign of Spencer or the team, and I’m looking for what seems like absolutely forever. But when I see Penelope stepping out of a room, I sigh of relief. It takes her just a second to spot us at the end of the hallway, raising her hand to give us a wave. She points inside the room beside her and that's all I need to breeze past Mike and sprint down the hallway and into Spencer’s room.

I've clearly just interrupted Spencer's and Alex's conversation, but no part of me cares. Spencer is laying down in the bed, his neck wrapped in gauze, his eyes half-closed as he struggles to stay awake. But his eyes widen when he sees me and he starts to try and sit up, his hands pushing against the bed. "Amelia," he breathes out, his voice hoarse, face softening and tears pooling in his eyes.

I move swiftly past Alex and to the side of the bed, leaning over to hug him as softly as I can. His arms wrap tightly around my waist and he buries his face in my neck, prompting me to squeeze his shoulders just a bit more. I hear the door to the room close and I assume Alex left to give us privacy.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer whispers with a quivering voice, hands grasping at my sweatshirt. "You- how?"

"Penelope called me," I pull away from his embrace and kneel on the tiny bed, moving as close as I can to him without tugging on any wires. He looks relatively okay, despite the gauze covering his gunshot wound. He just looks tired. Absolutely exhausted and worn down with bags under his eyes and pale skin. He looks like he does, sometimes, after he wakes up. I place my hands on his cold cheeks, brushing my thumbs against his skin. “You told me you’d always be careful, Spencer. And I told you to be safe and to come home in one piece.”

"I’m still in one piece,” Spencer’s eyebrows raise and a smile attempts to show on his face, “just now with stitches in my neck.”

I rest my forehead against Spencer’s, both our eyelids fluttering closed and relishing in this split second of peace. My heart is pounding in my chest and my emotions, yet again, just come pouring out. I’ve spent hours not knowing anything about how Spencer was doing. I didn’t know if he was out of surgery or even if he was alive. It was terrifying and it really made me come to terms with my feelings for him. I thought I was content being on my own and just having meaningless relationships with guys, but I always knew Spencer was different. I knew there was something special about him from the beginning. I quickly realized that I rely on him more than I should and that I don’t think I’d be able to live without him.

“Spence,” I whisper, my breath hitting his face and a soft sigh falls from his lips, “I love you so much.” Spencer lets out a puff of air from his nose and I start to feel his tears falling onto my hands. My eyes fly open and I lift my head, wiping away his tears. “You don’t have to say it back right now. I just had to tell you now. I was so scared on the way here.”

Spencer raises his hand and places it on top of mine, giving me a tired smile. “I do, Lia. I love you. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” He moves his hand from mine and trails it down to my waist, trying to draw me closer. “I love you.”

I scoot just a little bit closer to him, looking down again to make sure I’m not pulling on any wires or tubes. But on my journey to finding Spencer’s eyes again, my eyes lock on the gauze wrapped around his throat and the tiny spot of red in the side of it. I reach my hand out and let my fingers dance across his jawline, locking our eyes to check for any type of indication that he is hurting from my touch. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, not at all," Spencer murmurs, his eyelids fluttering under my touch and his breathing starting to slow.

"Why don't you just lay back down? It'll make me feel better," I laugh, placing my hands on his shoulders and guiding him gently back down to the pillows. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm just-" Spencer sighs, reaching for one of my hands, "I'm really tired. You don't even know what this case has been like."

I brush his hair off his forehead, earning a small smile from him. He continues to melt into my embrace, sinking further and further into this incredibly uncomfortable bed. "Yeah, I'm sure you're exhausted, sweetheart,” he hums in response, finally giving in and letting his eyes close all the way, pressing his hand into my back again to keep me close. "You should get some sleep, Spence," when I try to slip off the bed to give him some space, his hand grips onto my sweater as he tries to keep my body against his. His eyes fly open in panic and he tries to sit up again. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

"Don't go," he begs with teary eyes, "I-I can’t be alone. You don't know what happened before."

“Okay,” I give him a comforting smile as I move my hand to the back of his head, guiding him back down to the pillows once more. I’ve seen him after cases, a lot of which he told me were challenging and taxing. I’ve seen him shed some tears and let down his guard down on the odd occasion that his emotions were really pent up. But this is so different than those times. Right now, he’s broken and scared and looks like a kicked puppy. I hate seeing him like this. He’s usually so strong, walking with his head held high, even if he’s anxious and trying to shrink into himself. This is heartbreaking to see. "What happened?" I brush my hands over his cheeks once more, his eyes starting to flutter once more.

He breathes heavily for a moment, gulping as he nuzzles his cheek into my hand. "On the case, we figured out that there were a bunch of dirty cops working under the sheriff. And when they found out that I didn't die when I got shot, the main unsub showed up to try and shoot me. So Garcia had to get me in a wheelchair to get me outside and she pulled the fire alarm. Then the unsub paid off a nurse to try and give me medication that I'm allergic to and he had a gun and he tried to shoot me too and so Garcia had to shoot him-"

"Spencer, hey,” I stop him when he starts speaking all in one breath, “baby, breathe." He nods in the tiniest bit, scrunching up his nose and he fends off more tears. "Your team caught him, right? I'm right here, okay? You're gonna be okay, nothing's gonna happen. Just focus on yourself and on recovering."

"I just," he opens his eyes again and lets a few tears fall, "I don't wanna be alone right now."

I wipe those fresh tears and lean down to press my lips to his forehead. He lets out a shaky breath. "You won't be alone. I'm gonna be right here, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just gonna grab my bag from the sheriff and then I'm gonna come right back, okay? I won't even leave the doorway, I promise."

Spencer looks incredibly hesitant, but he nods anyway. "Okay, yeah. Just don’t leave."

"It'll be just a minute," I give him the sweetest smile I can muster up at the moment, planting one more kiss on his forehead before crawling off the bed. Like I promised, I never leave Spencer's line of sight and stand right in the doorway. Alex, Penelope, and Mike are all talking right across the hallway, and they look up when the door opens. I ask for my bag and let Mike know that I’ll be staying for a while and that I will say goodbye before I head home, then close the door behind me.

“Doing okay, sweet face?" I toss my bag aside and sit on the edge of the bed once more. He seems to relax with every step closer to him, and when I place my hand on his leg, he relaxes completely.

"Considering I got shot in the neck and then almost shot again twice after that?" Spencer sasses, making me snort out a laugh. “I’m okay, I guess.”

"You're ridiculous,” I scoot away once more to try and grab my bag, but Spencer grips my arm and tugs me closer to him.

"Can you come lay with me?" Spencer begs.

I glance around his bed and at the array of wires he’s connected to. It was hard enough to stay away from them when I was just sitting beside him. Laying down is gonna be significantly harder. "I don't wanna hurt you or pull on any wires.”

"You won't," Spencer insists, shifting himself over so there's room for me to squeeze beside him on his uninjured side. "Please?"

"You should be resting," I counter, but reach to unlace my shoes nonetheless. “It’s been a long day for you.”

"I don't want to," Spencer pouts, but his body betrays him as he lets out a roaring yawn, his face turning into a grimace at the pressure on his neck.

"Fine,” I fetch my laptop from my backpack and then slide until the ridiculously thin blanket. “You’re lucky you’re girlfriend isn’t a technophobe or else you’d be very bored right now.” I roll a table over the bed and set my laptop down, moving my gaze back to Spencer’s drooping eyes. He fights to stay awake, forcing his eyelids open every time they start closing. “What do you wanna watch, dove?”

"Can we watch a Christmas movie?" He requests, resting his cheek against the top of my head. I almost speak up to tell him that this position will probably hurt his neck, but I don’t want to ruin his comfortable position, especially if it’ll lull him to sleep.

"Sure," I open up a totally legal website and search up The Santa Clause, pressing play and then relaxing into Spencer. I’m not entirely sure why he wants to watch a Christmas movie, of all things, but I don’t question it. I just let out a yawn of my own and rub my eyes, feeling the exhaustion start to set in.

"You should get some sleep too," Spencer whispers. "I'm sure you didn't sleep a lot," I hum as a lame response, feeling his hands intertwining with mine. "As long as you're here then I'll be fine. And if you sleep then I'm more likely to fall asleep too.”

"No statistics for why that is?" I quip, glancing up at him with a smile.

"I'm in the hospital, give me a break," Spencer chuckles and he cranes his neck to kiss my forehead. "Just go to sleep. I love you.”

My heart pounds against my chest as he says those beloved words again, and I only manage to whisper my own proclamation of love before I drift off.

///

I’m woken up by Spencer shifting around beside me, and my senses are awoken by soft grunts and whispered words of frustration. I force my eyes open and look up at Spencer. "What's wrong? Are you okay?”

"Sorry, sorry," Spencer whispers, and I find that he's holding a jello cup, "just couldn't get this open, the oximeter is in the way," I take the cup from his hand and pull off the top, handing it back to him. "Thank you. And I'm sorry I woke you. You should go back to sleep because you’re-“

"No, it's okay. I shouldn't sleep for too long anyway," I look to the table and find my laptop is now closed and an untouched tray of food is beside it, aside from the missing jello cup. "Sweetheart, you need to eat. You're not gonna get better if you don't eat to get your strength back.”

"I feel fine," Spencer responds, shoving a spoonful of jello in his mouth. “And I am eating. See? Jello.”

I roll my eyes at him, sliding off the bed and moving the table away. "You should eat more than jello. I know it’s your favorite but it’s all sugar and you need more than that," Spencer keeps his gaze down on his jello, avoiding eye contact with me while I lecture him on a topic he definitely knows way more about than me. "I just want you to get better so you can get home, okay? I'm sure you don't wanna be in the hospital for much longer and you'd rather be at home, right?"

"Hospital food is gross," Spencer sighs, stabbing his spoon in the jello. "I've never liked it.”

I sit on the side of the bed and cross my legs under me, leaning over him, pushing his messy curls out of his face. "I know it sucks, but you've gotta eat. But if it makes you feel any better, I think you look much better now that you've gotten some sleep.”

Spencer gives me a small smile, raising his eyebrows. "Are you implying I looked bad yesterday?"

"Yesterday, you looked like you got shot. Today, you look like you're tired and you've got gauze around your neck.”

"I guess that's an improvement," Spencer shrugs and then shoves another spoonful of jello in his mouth. I guess I’ll have to go scour the hospital for more jello, especially if that’s the only thing Spencer will eat.

"I know I said you look a little better but did getting some sleep help?" Spencer continues to keep his gaze down on his cup of jello. "Are you in any pain? Do you want me to get a nurse to up your painkillers?"

"No!" Spencer blurts out, but he seems to retract back into himself right after speaking, his eyes locking on his jello. "No, just- I'm fine, I don't need it."

I furrow my eyebrows, bringing my fingers under his chin, lifting his gaze. "I'm just trying to help you, dove. I don't want you to be in pain or uncomfortable."

"I'm okay, really, I am," Spencer tells me yet again. "I mean, I've got stitches in my neck and I wanna be in my own bed but I'm okay."

"Alright," I give in far too easily. It's not worth arguing with a boy in a hospital bed. "Eat your disgusting jello."

Spencer scoffs as I drop my hand from his chin, crawling off the bed and stretching out my tensed up muscles. "I don't understand how you don't like jello."

"It's gross, Spencer. The texture is weird and it makes me uncomfortable. It's the same reason I don't like tomatoes- the texture."

"You don't like jello or tomatoes. I'm not sure this is gonna work out between us," Spencer jokes, taking a big spoonful of jello and shoving it in his mouth. "Mm, amazing."

"Gross.”

I see Spencer's eyes travel over my shoulder and then he smiles in the most adorable way, his eyes becoming five shades brighter. "Hi, guys."

I turn my head and find Spencer's team coming into the room. I plaster on the most genuine, authentic, sweet smile I can. I'm sure they're all a bit wary of me since my first impression inevitably left a bad taste in my mouth, but I know and I’m sure they all know that now isn’t the time to be hostile towards. Spencer needs as much support as he can get. I deserve hostility and side swipes for how I acted but not right now.

"Hey there, kid," Morgan smiles, reaching down to pat Spencer’s leg over the blanket. "How're you feeling?"

I turn my head back to Spencer with a soft smile and see that he's already looking back at me. "I'm okay. Thanks for coming. How's Garcia doing?"

"She's shaken up, understandably," JJ sighs, her hands tucked away in her pockets. "She's sitting in the hallway."

I turn back to Spencer, resisting the urge to brush his hair back again, and get on my feet again.. "I'm gonna go talk to her, just for a minute. Are you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Go ahead.”

I give the rest of the team one more smile for good measure and then leave the room, hurrying down the hallway and avoiding running nurses. Sure enough, I find Penelope sitting on a bench beside the elevators, typing away on a laptop. If she notices my presence then she doesn’t acknowledge me. She just continues to move her fingers at lightning speed. "Hi," I say softly, tearing her attention away from the keyboard and to me.

When her gaze meets mine, I can see how distraught she is. Her eyes are bloodshot and she has tear streaks in her makeup with black smudges where winged eyeliner used to be. I can’t blame for being like this though. Penelope doesn't shoot people. Penelope sits behind a desk with her stuffed animals to protect her and her colorful outfits to cheer her up. She's not out in the field with a gun and bullet proof vest, chasing serial killers. She’s not a fighter, she is the epitome of a lover.

"Oh," she slams her laptop shut, scooting over, giving me room to sit down, "hi, Amelia. How's Boy Wonder?"

I resist the urge to laugh at the adorable nickname that I plan on using against Spencer when he’s feeling better. “He’s doing good, Pen. I think he got some sleep and he’s eating jello and Spencer physically can’t be sad when he’s eating jello. He’s okay.”

"I shot someone, Amelia," she bursts out, throwing her hands up to cover her face and bursting into a new wave of tears. "Did you know that? A nurse tried to shoot Spencer and I shot him instead and, oh god, why did I do that?"

"Penelope, you saved his life," I scoop Penelope into a hug and tuck her head under my chin, the same way I do to Spencer when he’s upset, and the same way I do to my brothers and sisters when they are crying. "I know it's hard and shooting a gun is really scary but you saved Spencer's life. You protected him from a killer, someone who would take him away from you, and me, and the team forever. I’m sure it was really hard and really scary, but you saved Spencer’s life today."

Penelope looks up at me, her lips in a pout as she sniffles relentlessly. "You're good at this. You- I really like you. I know I've told you this but I like you."

"I know, P," I laugh, reaching forward to wipe her tears and cleaning off her smudged eyeliner. "I'm a protector. That's the way I grew up. I'm-" I let out a sigh and drop my hand, "you did a background check on me so you know why."

Penelope's eyes widen as she suddenly remembers the background check, and now she’s the one dragging me into a hug. "Oh my god, oh my god, I'm so, so, so, so sorry about that. Rossi made me, he's-"

"He's your boss, you told me," I murmur. "I'm not happy about it but it's whatever. I, um, like I told you, I haven't told Spencer yet but I know I'll have to soon."

"I just-" Penelope pulls away and puts her hands on my cheeks, "you're so pure and innocent and beautiful. You've got a good heart and you're kind and loving and capable of love and I'm just, I'm glad you became one of the good eggs and not one of the bad eggs."

I scoff out a laugh. "You mean bad eggs with tattoos and piercings?"

Penelope gasps, pressing her hand to her chest in surprise. "No, no. You're not bad for having tattoos and piercings. I mean, bad as in the people we hunt every day. The people we put away aren't capable of love in any way at all. But you, you clearly are. We've seen killers who have tattoos of their victims and cult tattoos and swastikas but you have strawberries and turtles and cute things. You're not a bag egg. You're good for Spencer, and you're good for me too so be my best friend, please, and give me another hug."

I laugh and try to make it as convincing as possible, happily wrapping my arms around her shoulders again. We sit in silence for a few moments, enjoying each other's company and getting to breathe sighs of relief for the first time in hours. "I'm gonna say it again. Thank you for saving Spencer."

"As much as I hate guns, I'd protect my family any day," Penelope wipes her cheeks once more and then stands, adjusting her skirt.

I follow suit, standing and picking up Penelope’s laptop. "Let's go back to Spencer, okay? He's a little wary of being in the hospital and having all his best friends there is gonna help."

Penelope holds my hand as we walk down the hallway to Spencer’s room, our hands swinging between us in the most cliche way possible. But my pace slows significantly when we get to the door and I watch the team interact with Spencer, making him laugh and bringing out his beautiful smile. A pout comes to my face.

"I don't think the team likes me very much, not after I made such a scene in the bullpen," I suddenly admit. "I don't blame them. I made myself seem very suspicious, and, you know, I'm technically a criminal, but-"

"They're really nice people, Amelia," she tells me softly. "All we want is Spencer happy, and you make him happy. That's all we care about, whether you're spray painting a brick wall in the middle of the night or not."

I let out a laugh, my voice echoing off the walls. "Wow, thank you, P. I appreciate it."

"I've decided I'm obsessed with you. Come hang by the BAU all the time. Braid my hair more."

///

SPENCER

Waking up next to Amelia is the most amazing experience. She is the only woman I’ve ever slept in the same bed with and I waited thirty years for the right woman. Her face being the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning is ethereal. It lets me know that my day is going to be perfect, even if my days will be like my next few weeks, stuck in my house while I'm on leave from my injury.

But waking up next to my beautiful girlfriend is how I wish I could start every single day. I'm usually awake before her and I get to watch her sleep, brushing her hair out of her face and listening to her hum when our legs intertwine and trace my pointer finger over her tattoos. I didn't think that my heart could pound so fast just by laying under a blanket with another human being. But then I realized that what I'm feeling is love. I'm madly in love with this girl and I can't stop how hard I'm falling, not that I would want to stop.

Amelia decided that she would stay with me at my apartment for a while to take care of me when I returned home from Texas. She was happy to take the role of my caregiver, especially if it means we get six weeks to ourselves in my apartment. So the second we got back to Virginia, Amelia packed a bag and situated herself right next to me in bed.

Nothing is out of the ordinary when I wake up first this morning, my neck stiff from the uncomfortable position I rolled into sometime during the night. My eyes linger over to the peaceful angel beside me, and I can't help the smile that comes to my face. Her cheek is pressed against the pillow and her lips are parted, her hair fanned out against the sheets. She's drowning in an oversized tee-shirt and her butterfly necklace is hanging loosely around her neck. She looks exhausted, that's for sure, but she's been busy taking care of me in the last few days. I have no intention of waking her up but my neck is sore and I need to move around before it starts to hurt too badly.

I shuffle around and try to be as quiet and still as possible, but I make a movement that’s too quick and it sends a shock of pain up my neck. A hiss falls out of my mouth before I can think to hold it in and in an instant, Amelia is awake.

"Are you okay, Spence?" I hear Amelia's squeaky morning voice and then her hand is reaching for me blindly, fingers batting at my chest before she rests it there, her head still pressed into the pillow.

"I'm fine," I tell her when I settle back against my pillow, placing my hand atop hers to calm her down. "Just wasn’t in a comfortable position," Amelia hums and doesn't even bother to open her eyes as she scoots closer to me, moving her head to share my pillow with me. It brings a smile to my face and I bring my free hand up to brush the hair off her face, allowing the sunlight to illuminate her cheekbone. Sleep calls me back to its grasp but I can’t get myself to close my eyes and stop admiring Amelia’s beauty.

"You're staring," Amelia murmurs. "Anybody ever tell you that's not polite?"

"You're beautiful," I whisper, bringing a small smile to her lips. She tries to suppress it but she fails, scrunching up her nose, “and cute," I correct myself now, trailing my fingers down her arm until I get to her hand, intertwining our fingers. "Are you hungry?"

"A little bit," Amelia's eyes finally flutter open and she stares up at me. She lets her smile shine through, craning her neck to press a kiss to my jaw. "Want some breakfast?"

"Yes, please.”

I purposely don’t try to climb out of bed yet and watch Amelia get up first. My cheeks turn bright red when her tee-shirt rides up and gives me a perfect view of her undies. And I can swear that Amelia knows I’m looking because once she’s steady on her feet, she reaches up to the ceiling and stretches herself as tall as she can. When she settles back on her heels, she twists around and smirks. “You’re still staring.”

The red tint of my cheeks don’t get lighter as I push myself out of bed, following Amelia when she scurries towards the kitchen. “And you’re still beautiful.”

Amelia’s giggles reverberate off the wall when we get into the kitchen. I become fully convinced that she caught me staring at her butt when the first thing she does is stretch up to the ceiling again. She never does that. I stare shamelessly now, and Amelia doesn’t give me another smirk before she starts pulling out ingredients for pancakes. I stand right beside her and pull out the bowl, perfectly measuring every ingredient and adding it to the bowl.

"Shouldn't I be the one doing most of the work?" Amelia sasses as I pour batter onto the skillet. "You're the one with the gunshot wound.”

"I'm capable of making pancakes," I nudge her hip when I lean over her for a spoon, and she slides behind me and rests her head against my back. “We should eat in bed.”

"Hey," she whispers, and I feel her pressing kisses against my clothed back, "guess what?"

I play along, mimicking her mischievous tone. "What?"

"I love you.” She sounds so sweet when she says those words and every time she does, another brick from my wall gets beat down and leaves a gaping hole, making my vulnerability shine through. And as the days pass, I become more and more okay with being vulnerable around the woman I love.

So I let a smile come to my face and let myself melt into Anelia’s embrace, my skin burning every time her lips press against my shirt. "I love you too.”

We swiftly finish cooking and then carry our plates back to the bedroom, settling under the duvet again. I lean against the headboard while Amelia sits at the foot of the bed, way too far away for my liking. But she sits with her legs straight out and her toes touch my calf and it makes the distance a little more bearable.

I don’t really notice the way that Amelia goes completely silent because I’m so hungry that I’m scarfing down my pancakes. I see her awkward glances around the room but I don’t think anything of them. Not until she sets her fork down on her plate. Her pancakes remain untouched.

I furrow my eyebrows at her, slowly placing my own fork down. “Lia? You okay?” She nods her head, her gaze dropping down to her plate. She picks up her fork again, stabbing the top pancakes once or twice and then putting it back down. “Amelia?”

"Yeah,” she answers quickly, quietly. She starts to nod her head at nothing, jabbing her fork completely into her stack of pancakes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m totally fine. I just-“ she wiggles her hips and then clears her throat, “yeah, I, well,” she takes one more agonizing pause and then speaks again, “my dad is a serial killer.”

It's an odd thing to blurt out, that's for sure. I freeze where I am- mouth open and hands by my sides and my breath caught in my throat. Amelia’s father is a serial killer? How could I not see this? This is what I’m trained to do. But the unknown details of Amelia’s father start to loom over me and the tension starts to build the longer I don’t say anything. And I’m sure my silence doesn’t help Amelia get the courage to say anything else. She just keeps her eyes on her plate and doesn’t dare to look up from it. But I can't even think of a good response. Not a what? or excuse me? or huh? because which of those fit this situation?

"He married my mom straight out of high school and they had me and then my little brother," she's speaking so quietly that I barely hear her. Amelia starts stabbing her pancakes as she speaks, clearly as a distraction. "Apparently, after my brother was born, he started killing these random women. I was told that he killed because he wanted another girl instead of a boy, but what kind of a reason is that to kill random women?”

“Damian Kelsey.” The name slips out of my mouth unconsciously. “He shot victims of opportunity and then put the symbol for female on their foreheads with blood. I studied him in school.”

“Yep,” Amelia nods and she already reaches her hands up to wipe her cheeks, “that’s Dad.”

“Well,” I gauge Amelia’s reaction to my voice and I debate if I should finish my thought, and when she doesn’t say anything new, I decide to, “that means I learned about you, too. Damian Kelsey was-“ Amelia starts nodding, “horribly abusive to his family.”

“He beat the shit out of me for my whole childhood. I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t drunk and screaming at me and my mom and shoving us against walls and threatening us with knives and guns. I didn’t even go to school. I just hid in my room all day and hoped he wouldn’t come upstairs.” Amelia hunches over and puts her head in her hands. “Then my brother came along and suddenly, it all got so much worse. I started shielding him from the beatings and I started hearing my mom screaming at night from her bedroom. It was so awful. But I kept telling myself that I had to stick through it so I could protect Cody.”

“Cody.”

"Cody," she whispers, almost in confirmation. It’s as if she hasn’t said his name in a long time and needed confirmation that, yes, he was a real person. She keeps her head down but moves her arms, staring down at the abundance of permanent ink on her arms. I catch sight of her lips starting to wobble and a few tears wetting her Starry Night. "He was really smart. He loved the stars and the planets. He used to beg me to sneak out to get him astronomy books from the library down the street. You would’ve loved him. He was so young but so smart. He wanted to be an astronaut.”

I reach forward and pull her plate of pancakes off her lap, getting them completely out of the way. She takes this as an invitation to crawl into my lap, which it was, and curls up against my chest, gently tucking her head into my neck. I’m not sure what to say to her in this moment. I want to help her to make her feel better but I know the details of this case and how horrifically it ended and knowing that my amazing, beautiful, positive girlfriend was the girl who’s father I wrote a ten page research paper on makes it so much worse.

I remember learning about the Damian Kelsey case in my classes and grimacing at the details of what happened to his wife and children. And now, I’ll never be able to think of this case ever again. It hurts me to know that Amelia went through that, which is an incredibly selfish thought. Amelia lived through it but I have the privilege of only learning about it. So I do what I can to comfort her, which ends up to just be forehead kisses and a tight embrace as I try to form words.

"My mom got pregnant again, a few years after Cody was born. And I remember the days after my mom told us as being the best of my childhood. My dad was sober and everyone seemed happy and we even ate dinner in the dining room all together. We never did that,” she pauses and slides her hands around my waist, pressing her body completely against mine. I hold her as tight as I can. “But then my mom went to the doctor and found out she was having another girl and it all got so much worse. Dad came home from the doctor screaming and me and Cody hid in the closet for hours upon hours. And this went on for months and as my mom got closer to her due date, the abuse just got so much worse-“

"Amelia, you don't have to tell me this," I close my eyes and try to ignore the way her body is trembling in my embrace and how her tears are soaking the collar of my shirt. “I already know what happened and-“

"I do," she insists shakily. “One day, Cody begged me to get him a new book from the library. He was asking me to read him a book about Jupiter while we look up at the stars and I kept telling him no because Dad was drunk but he was relentless. So I eventually gave up and climbed out the window and went to get him some books.”

Amelia lifts her head from my neck and presses her hands to her face before I can see her tear stained cheeks. She breathes deeply in sync with my breaths, her nose scrunching up as she falls deep into her memory. If she wasn’t so distraught, maybe I’d let myself acknowledge how adorable she looks when she scrunches her nose like that.

“By the time I got back, they were dead. My dad dragged them to the greenhouse and shot them. He shot my six year old brother and my mother who was nine months pregnant and two weeks away from her due date. He just left them there to bleed out.”

“I know,” Amelia doesn’t seem comforted whatsoever by me already knowing about this case, otherwise known as her childhood. It doesn’t make her breathe easier and it doesn’t stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

“So I called the police and eventually the FBI came and I met Gideon and Dave. They promised that they would catch my dad and eventually, they did. And that’s why,” Anelia looks at me for the first time since she started talking, her eyes wide and bloodshot, “Dave recognized me when I went to the BAU. But I didn't want you to find out about this until I was ready to tell you and I thought Dave would just blurt it out, so I tried to run away.”

"It's okay, Lia,” I finally reach forward and start wiping away her tears, watching her eyelids flutter closed. She seems to find a moment of tranquility in the midst of this horrifying story, and I let my mind wander for a moment. I’m the one who can provide these calm moments for her? Seriously? But I don’t let my mind drift off too far and I jolt myself back to reality. “I’m not mad about you leaving like that anymore. I understand. It’s fine, I promise.” Amelia smiles just the tiniest bit, leaning her cheek into my hand and almost purring with pleasure. But she manages to collect herself and continue where she left off.

"Gideon and Dave came and spent two weeks searching for my dad. And in that time, I spent it sleeping in the police station because I didn't have anywhere else to go. But Dave was so sweet and he'd bring me food and tell me nice stories to get my mind off of the situation. I just always remembered him because he was so amazing to me and I guess he remembered me too. But at the station, I met Mike, who was the sheriff you just worked with in Texas. He wasn't sheriff at the time but he was really nice to me and brought my food and checked up on me. But after the BAU caught my dad, I was put into foster care.”

I know that foster care is not the best place to be. I’ve seen the negative effects of foster care for far too many years and I know that not being placed in a good home makes for a tough childhood- one that Amelia just admitted to having. I find myself staring down at Amelia and remembering all the times she has smiled and radiated sunshine and picked me up when I was down. Did she manage to come out of foster care strong or is she insanely good at hiding her dark feelings?

"I spent a year going in and then running away from five horrible and abusive foster care homes across the country. It was horrible and I got abused just as badly as I did at home with my dad. I just kept running away because nobody was listening and nobody cared and I didn’t wanna take the abuse. And then when I was eleven, I got too fed up with being abused, so I ran away again. My fifth foster home was in Oklahoma and I got all the way back to the police station in Texas. I met up with Mike, he called Child Services, and he took me in. And I stayed there until I was eighteen and I went off to college, and then I moved here.”

She goes quiet after that, bringing her hands up to her cheeks and wiping her tears. The silence swells in my ears. And no matter how hard I make my brain work to figure out what the hell I should say to make her feel better, I just malfunction. I see my girlfriend crying in my arms and suddenly I have no idea what to do. She always knows what to do for me and I’m failing her right now.

“I'm sorry, Spencer,” Amelia whispers from behind her hands. “I'm sorry I never told you. I've never told anyone before and I always refer to my foster parents as my parents so I don't go around telling people my dad was a killer and my family was just two of his many victims and-“

"Shh, shh," I finally get myself to speak, “Lia, I’m not mad. I understand why you wouldn’t wanna tell me.”

"And I felt so guilty about how I acted when I met your team. They must hate me for how I acted.”

"They don't hate you," I insist, pulling her hands away from her face so I can see her. She’s still pouting and no matter how many times I wipe her cheeks, her face doesn’t lift. "They don't hate you one bit, I know I don’t.”

"Yeah, well, you told me that you love me for the first time so of course you don't hate me," Amelia murmurs, flopping over and pressing her face into my neck.

I course my fingers through her hair, earning the quietest mewl from Amelia, her eyelids fluttering. The act seems to calm her down enough to slow her breathing, and to allow her grip on my shirt to loosen. Yet again, I’m struggling for the words to say that will comfort her even more. Just playing with her hair isn’t going to help her feel better for longer than a few seconds. But my eyes sweep across my bedroom, illuminated by the rising sun, and I land on Amelia’s backpack in the corner. It’s covered in an array of different colors and specks of glitter, and it surfaces a memory.

"There was a painting in the station that I thought had your signature on it. That really was yours, wasn’t it?"

A smile comes to Amelia’s face for the first time since we woke up. "Yeah, I saw it when I was at the station too. I send Mike artwork all the time for him to hang up at home or in his station."

"Hey,” I tuck my fingers under Amelia’s chin, bringing her gaze back to mine. Her eyes are glassy and she’s still pouting. “I love you. I don’t want you to think that my opinion of you has changed, because it hasn’t. I love you just as much, if not more, than I did yesterday.”

"Thank you for saying that. I love you too.”

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" I intend for this question to calm Amelia’s anxiety and show her that she can confide in me about anything, but then a bashful smile comes to her face and my eyebrows furrow.

“I mean, while I’m confessing things,” she lets out a tense laugh and I almost let out a sigh of relief when I notice her starting to calm down again. "So it’s not nearly as bad as my childhood, but, you know, you’re an FBI agent so you might not enjoy this.”

My eyes widen at her. “Excuse me?”

"Well I’m not a criminal but-"

"This is not promising!”

"Alright! Alright!” She lets out a genuine laugh for the first time. “I’ve been arrested for illegal street art. A few times.”

"Are you serious?" Amelia lets out a roaring laugh, tossing her head back in the most utterly stunning way. She is almost completely oblivious to my shock, and if she isn’t oblivious, she doesn’t seem to care. "How many times counts as a few?"

"Six," she blurts out. "But now I've got an FBI agent on my side!"

"That doesn’t make you exempt from getting arrested!" I shake my head at her but I couldn’t care less about this revelation. Honestly, I’m not surprised. Amelia has a rebellious nature at times and I would expect that after her childhood that has no freedom, she would want to enjoy her newfound adult freedom- even if it means getting arrested for doing graffiti.

Amelia’s laughter dies down and she brings the lightened mood down with it. Her face drops and she slowly unravels herself from my embrace, crawling a few feet away and pulling her knees to her chest. I watch her shut herself off from me, leaning her forehead against her knees.

She’s embarrassed and ashamed of the story she just told me. I can only imagine that she feels worse about it since it has basically been forced out of her. I can tell that she wasn’t going to tell me so soon but after Rossi recognized her, she knew that it would only be a matter of time before he let something slip. I feel infinitely bad for Amelia. But there’s not much I can say to her to make her feel better.

I’ve spent years working with victims and family members of serial killers and I’ve spent those years figuring out the right things to say to comfort them. But this isn’t the right situation and Amelia isn’t the right person to use basic lines like it’s not your fault and everything will be okay. That’s not the kind of encouragement she needs. She needs reassurance that I’m not mad that she didn’t tell me about her childhood and that I still love her regardless.

I love her. I love Amelia. What an amazing feeling.

I lock eyes on her tiny figure, curled up at the foot of the bed. Amelia’s shoulders occasionally jolt in the exact same way they do when she cries. Reaching out and dragging her back into my arms seems far too abrasive. I go with the next best option for comfort- honesty.

"So," I stretch out my legs, almost as a silent way to invite Amelia in. But I keep my gaze off of her and look down at my hands. "My life story doesn't quite compare to yours but, well, my dad left me and my mom when I was really young. My mom has schizophrenia and he couldn't deal with her episodes anymore, so he abandoned us. He just- he wrote a note and left it for me to find and got the hell out," Amelia looks up at me with her tear stained cheeks, lips parted and her pretty eyes wide. "So I spent most of my childhood being bullied in the most horrible ways, and my mom's episodes were so bad that she barely noticed.”

I’m not scared to tell Amelia. Maybe it’s because I know that her childhood is far worse than mine or maybe it’s just because I’m comfortable around Amelia. I hate talking about my childhood with anyone at all. This is the only time in my life that I’ve felt comfortable while sharing the story of getting tied to a flagpole and being ignored by my mother and abandoned by my father. I know that Amelia won’t judge me and I know she won’t use this information against me. She’ll listen and tell me she loves me and we’ll move on. She’s amazing like that.

"And so when I was eighteen, I had her admitted to a mental facility because I couldn't take care of her anymore. She's been in a facility in Vegas ever since. I barely get to see her because I work so much but I write her letters all the time," I take a breath and run my fingers through my hair. Amelia finally looks up at me with tears in her eyes, slowly unraveling herself and wiping the tears away from her cheeks. But as she’s opening up, I’m starting to close off, letting my thoughts run wild as I recall all the worst moments in my life. "Schizophrenia is genetic, did you know that? My mom could’ve passed it on to me. I mean, schizophrenic breaks happen in your early twenties but-"

"You're thirty," Amelia whispers so softly that I barely even hear her. "You're not in your early twenties.”

"I know," I look down at my hands, trying to be strong and fend off the tears that pool up in my eyes, “but I'm still scared. I love my job and I love the life I live. I love you," a smile breaks through on her face at this revelation, her lips quivering. "I don't want that to go away because I inherited something I can’t control.”

"It won't," she whispers, shaking her head. "I won't.” Amelia reaches for me, sitting up on her knees with every intent to come closer again. But I shake my head back at her and hold out a hand, silently telling her to stop.

"There's more," There’s always more. Her face softens, almost like she's disappointed at this. And I don't make a joke of it like she made a joke out of her arrests, because it's not a joke.

I pull at my hair because I don't want to tell her, but she's been transparent with me, so I need to do the same. Amelia is suddenly in front of me, pulling my hands out of my hair, intertwining our fingers gently. She brings our enlaced hands up and presses kisses to my knuckles, holding them in her lap, encouraging me to go on. Amelia gives me a soft smile, but I can't look at her face. I don't have it in me to face her with this incredibly embarrassing information. "A while ago-“ my voice is shakier than I expected it to be, "a couple years ago, I got kidnapped by an unsub. Tobias Hankel. JJ and I split up when we shouldn't have and the unsub knocked me out and tied me up.”

Amelia squeezes my hands, her thumbs rubbing against my knuckles. "You don't have to tell me," she whispers, leaning in close. “I know we’re sharing but if this is too much then I can wait for-“

I squeeze my eyes shut and fend off all of the images that resurface in my brain. "I do. I need to tell you,” I insist. "He tied me up and he tortured me and he made me pick which innocent people he would kill and he made me watch him kill them. And he-" I shutter, hanging my head in shame, "he forced me to take drugs. He injected me with dilaudid, it's a really strong painkiller. Then he made me overdose and I-I actually died for a few minutes. The team saved me after but-“ I let out a sigh, pulling my hands away from Amelia’s and covering my face. “But I got addicted, Amelia. I took drugs from the unsub when he got killed and I got addicted. I did dilaudid for months and I couldn't stop. I lashed out at the team and I shut everyone out, it was so horrible.”

"Oh, Spencer," Amelia exhales, leaning forward to hug me. But she's hugging me gently, and I can't tell if it's because of my injury or because of what I've just told her. She’s holding me like I’m a porcelain doll that could break if she squeezes too tight. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

"I'm clean, I promise," that's the next thing I say. It has to be. I can't mislead her into thinking I'm still an addict. I can’t let her think that she’s dating some junkie. I need her to know that I’m a responsible federal agent who won’t go near drugs anymore. Amelia needs to know that I will love her without distraction and that I will stay clean.

"How long?" Amelia drags her nails against my back, her lips brushing against my neck, and I tighten my arms around her waist.

"Six years. Almost seven.”

Amelia pulls away suddenly, her eyes widening. "Oh my god, that's why you didn't want painkillers in the hospital. Spencer, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay. You didn't know. The nurses knew, it's on my chart to not give me narcotics.”

Amelia sighs and brings our hands up to her lips again and presses a long kiss to my knuckles. "I love you so much, okay? You didn't deserve to go through something like that, Spence. You're such," her lips quiver, "you're such a beautiful person on the inside and the outside, and I'm so glad I've met you.”

"Come here," I whisper, pulling my hands out of hers and inviting her into my lap, which she happily crawls into. Her head falls into my chest and I wrap my arms around her, kissing the top of her head. "I don't know where I'd be without you. Lonely, sad, sleeping by myself-"

"Getting coffee alone in the morning," she teases, “still not sure how to use your DVD player, spending Christmas alone, going-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. I didn’t have much of a life outside of my job before I met you.” I scoff, poking her sides and making her squirm around in my arms.

I keep poking her sides, bringing out her beautiful laugh. Amelia collapses backwards and tries to push my hands away, but I quickly flip over and pin her down, continuing to move my fingers across her rib cage.

“Spencer, stop!” She giggles, tossing her head back as she kicks her legs like a child. “Stop!” I relent, pressing my hands against the bed on either side of her waist, watching her catch her breath. “You’re way too good at that.”

“It’s just one of my many skills.”

Amelia brings her hands up to my cheeks, the pads of her fingers brushing against the stubble that I have yet to shave off. Her face softens and the sparkle return to the blue of her eyes, and any anxiety I had floats out the window. “Thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?”

“For not hating me because of my past.”

“Well, in that case, I guess I should be thanking you too.”

Amelia smiles a real, genuine smile for only the second time since this conversation started. She beams up at me, sprawled out on the bed with her cheeks flushed and a laugh still stuck in her throat. I settle down on top of her, bringing one hand up to brush through her hair. She moves one hand from my face and grabs my wrist, bringing it to her lips so she can kiss my palm. “I love you so much.”

And even though we’ve only been speaking those words aloud for a few days, every time she tells me she loves me, my heart flutters in my chest and my cheeks turn pink. “I love you too.”

Amelia cranes her neck and presses her lips to mine, drawing me closer and closer with every passing second. “I really love you, Spence,” she pulls away with a teasing smile and lets her head fall onto the bed, “but I’m starting to suffocate.”

“Oh, sorry,” I quickly pull myself off of Amelia and bring her up with me but I drag her right back into my arms. Amelia breathes a sigh of relief and collapses against my chest, closing her eyes. And I just hold her to my chest like I’m protecting her from anything else that could come our way. I hold her tighter than I’ve ever held someone before. I miss her again and make sure that it contains all of the love that I’ve had bottled up in my body over the years. And, of course, she lets me fawn over her, not giving it a second thought. So I just keep holding her, tighter and tighter and tighter by the second.

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wxldchxld · 3 years ago

Note

[ What is Beck's worst fear as an adult? Does her magic react to her fears and instincts or is it all purposeful? How does Beck feel about other magic users?

In our verse, where does Beck run off to from time to time when life in the Tower and the city in general gets to be too much? What is Beck's honest opinion of Nat's job? What could Nat do to make her leave, and why does Beck want to stay, aside from them being soulmates (if there is a reason at all)? ]

What is Beck's worst fear as an adult?

I’d say it’s a toss up? Beck has two major driving fears.

The first is very straight forward and that’s that she is terrified of losing a familiar again. The pain she suffered witnessing Dawnbreaker’s death is the worst she’s ever felt, and she genuinely doesn’t believe she would survive the death of another familiar.

The second is living her life in a cage or under anyone’s thumb. Beck spent half her life being controlled and locked up, desperately fighting to be herself while being brutally punished for it. So one day she learned to unlock doors and break binding spells, she learned to run, and in running she found freedom. It didn’t matter if that meant an empty stomach or a night out in the rain. And one of her greatest fears is having that taken away from her.

There’s a very finite amount of time Beck will tolerate people locking her up (like I have verses where she’s been arrested for certain periods of time). But eventually she’ll lose control of herself and find a way to escape. If she can’t escape... things will get bloody. Even toward people she knows and loves.

Does her magic react to her fears and instincts or is it all purposeful?

Her magic is very emotion and intuition based, so yes, it can happen involuntary. In a dangerous situation her effort is spent restraining herself and using her magic strategically, not in mustering up the spells themselves. As a feral witch (aka an incarnation of the Earth/Nature spirit my witches come from) the power will always come, but sometimes the control doesn’t.

I will say generally Beck is very in control of her magic in her human form. The worst you might get is like, if you startle her she might shift without thinking and then be like “oh shit sorry” or like, if you have animals around, they will naturally listen to her emotions and heed them. So you might have a trusty dog that you’ve kept for years and all the sudden he’s snapping a hand off because he is sensing her fear/anger/etc.

In other forms it is harder for Beck to control herself, therefore it’s harder for her to control her magic. And how in control she is in depends on the form. As a fox or a cougar, she can maintain the same level of control as a human, but as a horse, despite mastering the form as a little girl, she’s still very much at the mercy of her emotions. It’s kind of a running joke that you don’t jump on Beck as a horse because she will take off running, and then her magic will respond naturally, making her run impossibly fast and for way longer than a horse should. So it really depends.

How does Beck feel about other magic users?

Depends on the species and the kind of magic they’re using. Other witches are usually pretty ok with Beck, even if they aren’t the same kind of witch she comes from. From there things can get rocky. She tends to get on well with gnomes and trolls she comes across. Once she had a dalliance with a mermaid. Werewolves it really depends on the kind. Vampires are usually something she stays far away from unless they’re the sort that don’t eat people.

In like Marvel where the MCU is trying to say Wanda is an actual witch I would say Beck would be pretty ok with the premise of a witch being artificially made by an infinity stone, even if she doesn’t know what that is. But in reality she’d probably give a HARD side eye to Wanda because of the choices she’s made with that magic. Whether or not she could get past her own worries and moral qualms with mind control is---questionable.

What I will say is people like Thor or Loki in the MCU that pull that “magic is actually just like science” bullshit are not ok with Beck. Because she practices magic that is not at all like science. It cannot be wielded by anyone who learns spells or comes to an understanding of it. Witches are born or they’re made by other witches, and my magic system is VERY different from Marvel. While I’m happy to allow it to coexist with my lore system, I will not go with Marvel canon when it comes to magic because frankly it’s a mess. So I just have Beck be like “no you’re stupid and you don’t understand actual magic.”

In our verse, where does Beck run off to from time to time when life in the Tower and the city in general gets to be too much?

Ooof Nat might not love this answer. So I imagine at nights since Grani can’t/won’t be dragged into a city with her, Beck travels through the spirit realm and materializes wherever Grani is as a horse and they spend the night running around and being feral horses. It’s probably the only time she gets to really spend with him, which is a major strain on her in general because witches can’t indefinitely be away from their familiars it causes them pain. So it’s a good compromise.

But especially while they’re living in the tower Beck will probably take long trips. Like if Nat goes somewhere undercover or something and when this happens Beck will go---anywhere? You really can’t know. She disappears into the woods or the canyons or prairies or sometimes even travels north to run along the polar ice of the arctic as a snow white bear. She’ll travel to places on the Earth the non-magical folks aren’t even aware of, places hidden from maps and outside eyes since the dawn of civilization.

If we’re talking about like short breaks like “Jesus this place is too much and I need to breathe” she’ll probably turn into a hawk and fly out of the city to whatever wide open space and clean air she can find. Once her mother is no longer a threat (Idk if they’ll still be in the tower or not) she may go see her grandmother or Cora or visit one of her friends. Dori and Frankie both live in NYC itself, and so does Harper (they’ll probably be good friends by that time), and Jari lives just outside of NYC so like, visiting them and being with people who are like minded would really help.

What is Beck's honest opinion of Nat's job?

sdfgdsfgsdfg Don’t tell Nat but she thinks it’s dumb. She doesn’t get why anyone wants to risk their lives for mortals that don’t give 2 shits whether they live or die. She doesn’t trust SHIELD, she barely likes any of the Avengers, and she’d be very relieved and happy if Nat all told them to go fuck themselves and moved away with her to a farm in Montana.

Like, even if someone were to be like “well by helping protect the world she’s also protecting you” Beck would just be like “I don’t think I’d care much about dying because I’d be too dead to be bothered, but I do think being forced to live every day without the woman I loved knowing she died a horrific death of self sacrifice for people I don’t think matter would rot me away on the inside so...”

What could Nat do to make her leave?

Hmmmmm. Beck’s pretty determined to stay... But like, Beck really struggles tbh. Nat isn’t great at giving her the validation she so desperately needs from a partner. And that’s because of her own trauma, so once Beck knows that she tries to be more forgiving. But it is emotionally very hard on her to not feel like Nat is as into her as she is into Nat. I don’t know if that’s enough to make her leave.

Over all I don’t think Nat would ever say something so intentionally cruel to make Beck pack her bags and go for good, but over the years if Nat never starts to open up and reciprocate the kind of affection Beck needs she may eventually leave for someone willing to give her that (which, I’m sorry, it would probably be Harper), or also a little more likely, Beck might just go feral. Which is essentially her death. Because I feel like if she felt like even her soul mate couldn’t love her that she would truly believe she had no place with people and it would be easy just to wander off into the forest and merge with the spirit she came from. Which is, essentially the death of the individual of Beck, even if technically she lives on.

Why does Beck want to stay, aside from them being soulmates (if there is a reason at all)?

But all of that is near impossible based off of what we’ve discussed and how Nat has reacted thus far.

Nat’s big selling point is that she has no interest of taming Beck or making her behave a certain way. Her whole life has been a series of “no” and “stop” and “why can’t you just be this way.” And I think especially once Nat knows that, she will empathize personally because of all she’s been through. So while she’ll probably be like “please stop chewing up Tony’s stuff and stealing everything that isn’t nailed down” I don’t think she’s going to ever really try to like, seriously try to change Beck.

Another thing Nat has going for her is that, believe it or not, I actually think they have a lot in common? Maybe not on the face of it, but as far as like, suffering trauma as children and feeling estranged from people/displaced. I feel like they both enjoy nature and (tho Idk for certain about Nat) traveling.

It’s going to take a lot of work and compromise for them to work, and Beck knows that. I feel like the biggest reason she stays is because she believes and wants for it to work between them.

#bokketo

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asthesamcroflies · 4 years ago

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PROMPT: Cold Comfort

It had been Jax she had sobbed for at first, too over-wrought to fully realise why, but with hindsight, she’d come to suppose her subconscious had recognised the young president as the one with the power to fix it. To make sure this never happened to any other unsuspecting girls.

She was open-minded, knew from experience there was a kink for just about every damn thing. Hell, that was how she’d made a living for years. Kept a roof over her little boy’s head. Now she had two more kids in her sole care - vulnerable kids who had endured more violent loss than most adults would know how to cope with. For them, she’d been prepared to take a risk, branch out. But this …

She hadn’t been prepared for this.

Humiliation was one thing, she could bear that if she had to. And she had felt she had to. Money was already tight and while she could just about stand to let herself be further used and objectified when she thought it was on her terms, her pride just wouldn’t let her accept a handout. Not from her mom and not from the club. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, take charity. Not even from family.

But outright torture … She hadn’t seen that coming. Maybe she should have.

Chibs had tried his best to both soothe her and get to the bottom of it all, anger and sympathy warring for dominance on his scarred face even before he knew anything like the whole story. But she couldn’t let herself be cleaned up until she knew she had done everything she could to shut down that vile place. What consenting adults got up to was their business, but she hadn’t agreed to that. To any of it.

And neither had the other women.

So, still bloody and tear-streaked, she’d been loaded back into Ima’s car and driven to Diosa and to Jax, with Harleys behind them all the way. She’d stared out the window blankly on the journey, tearful, but kind of numb. On finally seeing the handsome blond biker though, his eyes widening at the state of her, remembering his sorrow and kindness at her husband’s wake, the floodgates had broken completely and she had simply sobbed for Opie as she crumpled in the arms of his shocked best friend. She knew all too well that Opie wasn’t coming back, but in that moment, he was all she’d wanted. The only place she’d truly have felt safe was wrapped in his big arms.

Jax had seemed to know he was a poor substitute, but he’d tried his best to offer comfort, his hands in the tangled knots of her hair as he held her close, until his need to know, to put whatever the hell had happened right, kicked in and then took over.

“You gotta talk to me, darlin’,” Jax had said as he pulled back, his tone kind, but firm. “I need to know what happened. Who the fuck did this to you. Tell me, Lyla, and I’ll make it right. I promise.”

So she’d ended up sat on one of Diosa’s comfortable couches, surrounded by bikers, Nero and Gemma, feeling self-conscious in the face of their interrogation, despite the concern in all their eyes. And it was Chibs who had quietly sat down close by her side, taking one of her hands in both of his, the gentle squeeze of his fingers proving to be the support she needed to be able to tell her story.

She didn’t go big into the detail. She knew they wouldn’t judge her for what she did, that their own involvement in the industry allowed them to see past the surface. To realise she was just another single mom trying to get by. That being a porn star didn’t somehow make her any less than human. Not everyone was capable of seeing that. Telling her side of things in that dry, matter-of-fact way was her only means of getting through it without breaking down again though.

And if her delivery was to-the-point and unemotional, it was still countered by the haunted look in her blue eyes. What she had endured had been a wake-up call. Like she’d told the gathered Sons, this hadn’t been her kind of gig. Her entire career had been fluff really. Lot of girl-on-girl. Cutesy almost, playing on her ability to look young and innocent. Or young and naughty, as required. Cages and whips and knives and beatings … That was a dark road she’d never planned on going down.

At the mention of what she’d already gone through at the hands of Frankie Diamonds, supposedly one of their own, she could see the moment it sank in for both Jax and Chibs just how hard that had hit. They hadn’t stopped to think about the knock-on effect, the unexpected consequences of that callous bullet, and that guilt over their unintended thoughtlessness landed heavily on their shoulders. She didn’t blame them though. They couldn’t have known, not when she’d been so determined to get through it alone like she always did.

Chibs’ gentle tucking of her hair behind her ear had been enough to spark fresh tears, his other hand never letting go of hers, giving her the strength to keep going when she just wanted to get away. To curl up and cry.

And then it was done. She’d told them everything she knew and it was in their hands, leaving her free to be whisked back to TM by Gemma, bikers again in tow. The stares of croweaters and hangarounds set her freshly on edge, but before the club matriarch could bark an order for them to make themselves scarce, there was already a reassuring hand at the small of her back.

“This way, darlin’. I got ya.”

Chibs steered her down the corridor to one of the rooms, settling her on the edge of the bed before briefly disappearing, only to return with a basin of water in his hands and a medical bag tucked under one arm.

“I can get Gem or one o’ the other girls if you’d rather,” the Scotsman offered, sitting down beside her again when she shook her head. “Trust me? Good lass. Let’s get ya cleaned up then and you just tell me if I’m hurting you or you need me to stop … Ah, Jesus, lovie, look at this mess … Don’t you be worrying your wee head any more about it – those bastards are gonna answer for this. We’ll make sure o’ it.”

With infinite care and patience, he gently cleansed all the bare skin he could of blood and grime, face, arms, legs, applying ointment where needed and apologising every time she winced.

“I know, pet, I know,” he soothed, clearly hating to have to cause her further pain with the antiseptic. “But you’ll feel better once it’s done …”

It took a second for her to realise the reason for his hesitation, until she felt gentle fingers ease the strap of her skimpy camisole aside to examine yet another wound with an intake of breath.

“How far’s this go?”

The slight drop of her head as she tried to avoid his gaze told him everything he needed to know.

“Fucking animals,” he muttered darkly, trying to consider the best way to handle this. “All right, sweetheart, still trust me?”

Knowing what needed to be done, she managed a little nod.

“Right then …” Chibs said, easing her round to sit with her back to him. “Lift up, lass. That’s it, nice and easy. I’ll be quick as I can.”

He’d peeled the delicate bloodstained lace and silk up and over her head as carefully as he could, before once again setting to work with the soft washcloth, tending to the multiple cuts and grazes marring the pale skin of her back and sides. Then he’d pressed the cloth into her hand and let her manage as best she could herself to take care of her front and high up on her thighs under the thin blanket she’d been wrapped in since first being delivered back to them by Ima. He stayed close though, leaning in on instinct to press a kiss to the back of her head when he realised she was crying again.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, darlin’,” he whispered, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

She felt him get up from the bed, hearing a drawer open before he was back and handing her a clean Samcro t-shirt big enough to keep her decent.

“Pull that on for now and Gemma’ll sort ya wi’ something proper to wear before we get you home,” he said, waiting until she’d complied to turn her around so he could look her in the eye. “Better?”

She nodded, tearful all over again at his kindness. “T-Thank you, Chibs,” she whispered.

“I’d say any time, but I don’t wanna be seeing you like this again, love,” he smiled sadly.

Her lips brushing over his took them both by surprise but, suddenly desperate for that comfort, she kissed him again before his brain could catch up.

He was only human and her mouth was soft and sweet as he cupped her small face in his hands and kissed her deeply, letting himself be momentarily blinded to the fact that she was supposed to be a patient of sorts in his care – not to mention that in his mind, and hers, she was still his brother’s wife.

He swore when he pulled away first, as if he’d been burned.

“Shite, sorry – I shouldn’t have--”

Shame and embarrassment washed over her, almost stronger than when they’d first saw what had been done to her. She’d started this. She’d let him see what had been done to her and, just because he’d been kind to her, had thrown herself at him like some desperate slut.

“No, it’s my fault. I don’t know what I was thinking. Oh my god, I’m so stupid! Sorry, I’m sorry--”

“Lyla,” he tried. “Lyla, stop. Darlin’, it’s okay …”

“It’s not – it’s not okay! You were only trying to help and I just … I don’t know why I thought you’d want a mess like this – why would anyone? I should go. Shit, I’m so embarrassed …”

“Whoa, slow down there, sweetheart,” Chibs tried again, catching her as firmly as he could by the arms while being mindful of her injuries. “Oi, listen to me, you got nothing to be embarrassed about or sorry for. I’m flattered, love, really I am. Gorgeous wee lass like you – nah, don’t be rolling those eyes now. Come on, you’re a fucking stunner, Ly. A few cuts and scrapes ain’t gonna change that. But you’ve been through a hell o’ a time and you ain’t in a good place right now. And since I don’t really fancy being the cause o’ regret on that pretty wee face, what d’ya say we put this on ice at least ‘til you’ve had a rest, straightened yer head out, yeah?”

She stared at him, taking in those warm brown eyes fixed on her, the hands that had slipped into hers again.

“Why are you being so good to me?” she whispered.

A little smile quirked the corner of his mouth at that and he shrugged, leaning in to give her one final little kiss. “You got people who care about you, lass – don’t ever forget that.”

#sons of anarchy #soa #soa imagine #samcro prompt #sons of anarchy imagine #chibs telford #soa chibs #lyla winston #jax teller

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pascalscenarios · 4 years ago

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THE ONE (Frankie Morales x Reader)

THE ONE

Frankie Morales x Reader

Based on my short Frankie “Confession” Scenario on Twitter

Summary: You’re getting ready to be married in a month, but then you end up seeing Frankie Morales for the first time in a decade.

Warning: None

Words: 1257

Authors Note: Hello! I’m really excited for this one! I hope you enjoy. :)

CH 1 | CH 2

Chapter 1

“Oh my god!” Your bridesmaids gasped as you walked in front of a full-length 3-panel mirror in the bridal store. You stood on the platform, examining yourself in the outfit.

“What do you guys think?” You asked your bridesmaids as you turned to face them. The five of them sat on the white sofa behind you.

“You look amazing!” One chirped.

“You HAVE to get it!”

“It's so stunning!”

“You’re going to take everyone's breath away!”

“Wait till Alex sees you in this! They’re going to pass out when they see you walking down that aisle!!!” Your maid of honor gushes.

You turn to face the mirror again, examining the outfit more. Your hands rake up and down the sides of the outfit. You turned left and right to get a better look from different angles. You loved how you looked it in. You felt great and looked beautiful.

“I think this is the one!” You smiled.

Your bridesmaids smile and cheer at your approval.

“That’s a great choice! Congratulations! You’re going to look absolutely gorgeous on your wedding day. I’ll have it boxed up for you!” The bridal consonant says.

“Thank you so much!” You smile.

…

“Alright, We’ll see you in a couple of weeks for the party! We’ve got everything planned out! You’re going to have so much fun! One last hurrah before you’re off the market and married!” One of your bridesmaids says excitedly.

“I can wait! Thank you guys for coming!” you say as you hug all of them.

“Of course! We’d be terrible friends and bridesmaids if we didn’t!”

“Thank you guys again. I’ll text you!” You waved goodbye.

“Bye love you bitch!” They opened the door, looking back to wave at you. You chuckle watching the four of them trail out. Your maid of honor stayed back to help you.

“I’m going to pick up more decorations and finish those centerpieces tonight! Do you need help taking the box to your car?” They asked as they slipped their bag on their shoulder.

“No I got!” you smiled.

“Are you sure? Cause I can-”

“I’m fine! Go meet Jordan! I know you're running late for date night!” You reassured her.

“But-”

“Go!” You laughed. Your maid of honor hugs you quickly.

“Alright! Thank you! I’ll call you tomorrow! Love you! ” They say rushing off out the door.

You pick up your bag putting it on the shoulder and bend over to pick up the wide and semi-heavy box. You thanked the bridal store consultants again for everything, as they opened the door for you. They congratulated you and wished you well.

As you walked through the parking lot, your bag was slipping off your shoulder. You kept having to stop to adjust your bag and then the heavy and long box in your arms. You must have looked like you were struggling because someone stopped to help you.

“Here, let me help you.” They say taking the box from you.

“Oh my gosh, thank you so-” You stopped talking once you realized who was helping you. He was tall, wearing a worn-out t-shirt, jeans, tactical boots, and that famous Standard Heating Oil hat he loved so much on top of his short floppy curls. He hasn't changed a bit since the last time you saw him. He still looked like the Fransisco Morales you knew.

“Frankie” you breathed, your eyes wide.

“Hey…” he says softly.

You both stand in the parking lot in silence, staring at each other both of you unsure what to say.

“How are you?” He takes the initiative to make things less awkward.

“I’ve been good...busy, but good. How about you?” You asked, holding to the straps of your bag.

“I’m good as well. I just came back home not too long ago.”

“Yeah, Santiago told me.”

You knew Frankie since you were a kid. Your cousin Santiago has been best friends with Frankie since childhood. They’re three years older than you. When you guys were younger, Santiago would hate when you tagged along with him and Frankie, but Frankie never seemed to mind. He always made sure to include and invited you in everything they did. Middle school is when you develop your crush on Frankie, but it wasn’t until your freshman year of college you found the courage to make the first move and ask him out. You guys dated, but things ended badly for you two.

From time to time, when you missed Frankie, you’d ask your cousin about him and how he was doing, just to make sure he was okay.

“So…” he says, lifting the box. “Are you apart of a wedding or something? Bridesmaid?” he chuckles. Oh god, He didn’t know. You were sure that Santiago would have said something to him.

You stare at him. He looks down at your hand noticing the engagement ring on your finger. His smile slowly fades, his eyes growing sad.

“Oh…” he nods. “Congratulations.”

“T-thank you.” you stuttered.

“Who's the lucky person?” He was curious to know if he knew them.

“Their names Alex. I met them through a mutual friend. We’ve been together for two years.”

“When’s the big day?” he asks

“It's next month, on the twenty-first…Um, we should take this to my car, it's over there.” You motion to the White Camry. You grab your keys out of your bag and press the button to unlock the trunk. When you walk over to the car, you press the trunk handle, opening it up.

Frankie places the box down into the trunk and closes the top for you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence and awkwardness again.

“I’m happy for you, Smiles. I really am.” And there he goes calling you by his nickname for you. Smiles. He gave you that nickname as a kid because you were always smiling. Even when things get bad for you, you always find the positive and smile about something.

You chuckled. You haven’t been called that in a very long time.

“You should come to the wedding!” you blurted out. Shit. Really? You really asked Frankie Morales to come to your wedding, like he wants to see his ex get married.

“Or you don’t have to! I would understa-” you say trying to save yourself from the mess you’re creating

“No. No, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Smiles.” he smiles slightly.

“O-okay. I’ll put your name on the list.” You fiddled with your keys.

“I have to go, but it was nice seeing you.”

You wrap your arms around his body, as you get pulled into an awkward and uncomfortable hug, but after a moment, you melt into it. The hug felt familiar. It like home.

You both pull away.

“I’ll see you around.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, backing away slowly from you.

“Bye, Frankie.” He turns around and starts walking towards the grocery store.

You stand there for a bit watching him stroll off, but decided it was time to head home. As you got into the driver's seat, you started crying due to rushing emotions. It was your first time seeing or talking to him since the night you broke up ten years ago. Why were you crying over him? You’ve broken up so long ago! Weren’t you past that? You were going to marry the love of your life! But deep down, no matter how hard you try to ignore it and shove it far down, you loved him. You always did and always will.

#triple frontier #Frankie Morales x Reader #francisco morales #frankie morales #Frankie #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro

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korra-the-red-lion · 3 years ago

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Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 5: Killer Moves, Dude.

(Lyn)

I sighed deeply through my nose as I handed in my test. I legit have no idea how I did on it. Religion in Pop Culture was a fun class, but some of the material was challenging. I mumbled my thanks to the prof and hefted my bag over my shoulder as I headed out.

It’s been nearly 3 weeks since the shower incident. No other freaky shit had happened, so I guess it was just a hideously stupid prank. Our guess was it was one of the other teams just playing a prank on us, or the women’s soccer team. We were the only ones who would have been in the locker room at that time.

Still, the whispers and the strange looks were starting to get on my nerves. I normally would argue that I was an easy-going kind of person, but this kind of attention had made my mood sour as of late.

“Why the scowl, Lyn-Lyn?”

I glanced over when Loryn bumped hips, finding a little smile on her face.

“Just finished writing a test and heard yet another ‘bet they’re gonna lose the banner again’ whispers,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I swear, these people are making me want to commit bloody murder.”

“Aw, don’t let them get to you,” said Loryn, wrapping her arms around mine, “they ain’t worth it.”

“I know, I know. It’s just hard, you know?”

Loryn nodded. “Yup, totes. But seriously, Lyn, I have a good feeling about this year. I feel like barring any extreme accidents, we’re gonna kick Turner’s ass this year and win that banner.”

I finally cracked a real smile. “Loryn, you know you’re awesome, right?”

“I mean, obviously. That’s why everyone loves me,” she said with a cheeky grin.

I snorted, the tension finally leaving my body. I said goodbye to Loryn, who was heading to her next class as I headed to the pool to teach swim lessons.

Loryn was one of those people who just knew how to get under my skin, in a good way. We were frosh together, and ended up in the same res. When we both showed up for the rookie week, we had a good laugh about the coincidence and because fast friends. Loryn came from a family of four girls, which according to her meant she was ‘a-mazing at dealing with conflict’ and it was hard to bring her mood down. She was planning on going to school after this to become a middle school teacher, which I thought was awesome. I was lucky to have a good friend in her, because my first year here was… well, let’s just say I was going through some stuff.

I pulled off my shirt as I walked into the AC, waving to Hassan, who was working at the desk today. He was a really sweet guy on the Badminton team, and admittedly I used to have a huge crush on, so every now and then I liked to tease him when I went by.

He grinned as he waved back, and I snickered as I bounded down the stairs to head into the locker room. I could hear all the kids chatting and messing around in there as I punched in the password to the swim team’s locker room. Those sounds always brightened my mood, and by the time I was done changing, my mood was pretty much back to the usual Lyn Hart standard.

I stepped onto the pool, laughing as a couple of the kids immediately ran to my side. Hunter, Joy, Kevin and Morgan loved me and always raced over to tell me about their days or whatever else crossed their minds. I sat down on the pool edge as they all spoke over each other to be heard, and eventually I had to settle them down so I could start the lesson.

I hopped into the pool and demonstrated the skills they needed to learn for this week’s lesson. I always loved getting in with them and showing them how to do it right. Too often do I see the other instructors standing on the pool deck, not really engaging in teaching. I get it, it’s not for everyone, but sometimes it’s not about you, it’s about the kids. Some of these kids…swim practice is their escape, they need this. If you aren’t there to be supportive, then why are you here in the first place?

The lesson went by so fast, and it was time for our practice. I said goodbye to the little guys and quickly threw on my cap and goggles. Time to get this underway.

XXX

“Lyn?”

I looked up from my laptop bleary eyed. Kerry pulled out a chair and sat down next to me. “Yeah? Wassup?”

She sighed as she leaned back, pulling her leg up on the seat. “I know this is going to sound so utterly stupid, but I’m nervous about the meet this weekend. I just haven’t been in a great head space recently, and with all the drama surrounding us and Gunner, I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed.”

“Hey,” I said, reaching over and taking her hand in mine, “that is not stupid at all. Don’t ever think how you feel is stupid, got it?”

Kerry gave a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Lyn.”

I smiled in return. “Always. Now, did you tell Emma about how you felt? Or Andrew?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I will, yeah. Just…I wanted to talk to someone else about it first. It’s one of those things where you know that once you talk to someone is like ‘oh, why’d you take so long to say something?’ but still take your time.”

“I totally get that. I tend to keep things all bottled up until it just explodes out, you know? Loryn is the only one who knows how to get it out of me. Remember at the Halloween Bash last year when I finally lost my shit and decked Frankie across the chin?” I shook my head in shame.

Kerry chuckled. “I have to admit though, Frankie deserved it. He was being such a dick.”

I smirked, thinking back to that night. Frankie probably did deserve it but resorting to physical violence was something I should avoid in the future.

All of a sudden, Matt popped out of nowhere. It was like he was using his twin sense to find Kerry. Honestly, it was cute. Kerry seemed to be the more sensitive of the two on the surface, but in reality, it was Matt. He was constantly checking in on Kerry and would seriously drop anything to make sure she was okay. Kerry and Gunner were in an on again off again relationship for the past 6 months, and clearly his drug incident was bothering her a lot more than she was letting on. Matt walked over and plopped down on the table.

“Did I miss anything important?”

“I was admitting to my undying love to your sister, and we’re running away together after the swim meet tomorrow to move to Calgary,” I said seriously. Kerry nodded solemnly beside me.

Matt rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out. “How are y’all feeling about it, anyhow?”

I shrugged. “I mean, the first meet of the season. Feeling a little nervous, but otherwise same as always.”

“Ah, the Stonewall Lyn is coming back out to play, huh?”

“I hate it when you call me that,” I said with a whine, slumping onto the table. “It’s not like I’m impenetrable.”

“No, that much is obvious,” said Kerry with a smirk. Matt burst into laughter as my ears got hot. I reached over and squeezed Kerry’s arm, causing her to jokingly squeal in pain.

Someone yelled at us to shut up, and we all quieted down guiltily. Sometimes I forget that you still had to be quiet in the library. Matt slipped off the table and pulled out his own laptop, and the three of us decided to do our homework together.

XXX

My head burst through the water as I took a breath. I could barely hear them all shouting at me to go faster, that I was only close behind Sophie LeBlanc from Turner University. We both hit the wall and I pushed off, kicking hard. I could see in the corner of my eye that we were neck and neck for the final 25 meters. Sophie was faster than me, but I had more endurance. The 200 Fly was where I shined. My hands smacked against the wall and I immediately looked up to check the clock. A huge grin broke out on my face when I saw the number 1 next to my name. Sophie smiled at me and I reached over the lane rope to give her a hug.

“Good swim,” I huffed out.

“You too,” she breathed heavily.

I pulled myself out and shakily walked over to where the team was waiting, clapping me on the back. Maddie handed me my towel and I listened to Coach Jacob point out some things I did well and things I could work on, nodded when I needed to. He clapped me on the shoulder and sent me to the warm down pool.

I hopped in and swam a couple of laps lazily, to get that lactic acid moving out of my system. I stopped at the wall and watched Kerry swim her 50 Breast, cheering as she hit the wall for a turn. Despite her initial nerves, she was on fire this meet.

I swam back to the other end of the warm down pool and jumped out. I quickly threw on my swim parka and sweatpants, not wanting to get cold. The relay was the last event, and I needed to be ready to swim the Fly sprint. I walked over to where Emma, Maddie, and Tammy were, getting each other pumped up.

Emma huddled us together and closed her eyes. “Alright, you psycho bitches, we’re going to kill this relay. We’re not going to let Turner or Francois step all over us this year. You girls are seriously some of the best people I’ve ever had the joy of swimming with. Wolves on 3. 1, 2, 3!”

We all shouted “WOLVES” and hurried over to the starting block. Maddie chucked all her stuff into the box behind the timer’s chairs and waited for the whistle blow before hopping into the water. A jolt of nervous energy shot through my system as the buzzer went off, and so did the swimmers. I tossed all my stuff off too and slapped my arms and legs as part of my good luck ritual. I spared a glance over at Sophie, who gave me a cheeky smile before getting settled herself.

Maddie was fast approaching the wall, and Tammy was raring to go. She dove in the second Maddie’s fingertip brushed the wall, her form as beautiful as always. I shouted with the others as loudly as I could, before getting onto the block myself. Tammy was slicing through the water, looking as awesome as she did. I know she was exhausted from her 50 Breast swim from earlier, but it didn’t show at all as she kept pace with the others. Tammy’s hands slammed into the wall and I dove in, kicking as hard as I possibly could and fell into a mad rhythm, trying to keep pace with Sophie and Megan from Francois University. My lungs were screaming for air by the time I hit the wall for my turn, and I took a quick breath. My body was already in agony from my earlier swims, but I had to push through that for them. I hit the wall hard and Emma dove in. Maddie helped me out as I struggled to catch my breath. Emma was already halfway down the pool when I got out, trying my best to cheer for her despite my lack of oxygen. Kim Hawks from Turner was one of the best freestyle sprinters in the province, and while Emma was good, she wasn’t as good as Kim. I just hoped that we did enough to stay in the race.

Emma slammed her hand against the wall, and we all looked at the timer on the wall, holding our breaths. Turner popped up in the number 1 spot, unfortunately. But Mount Seamus showed up in the number 2 spot right after and we cheered. Maybe it wasn’t first, but yeah, beating Francois felt pretty damn good. We helped Emma out of the pool and held each other for a minute. I could feel the pride oozing off of us, and that was amazing. The points all mattered in the end, but right now, we did good.

XXX

Mondays after a swim meet were always the hardest. You were exhausted and spent the whole Sunday evening catching up on any work you were behind on. The only thing nice about them was morning practice was cancelled.

I yawned my whole way through my Asia World History course, even though it was one of my favourite classes. It was just hard when you were as tired as I was. I was just lucky since I did the readings ahead of time, because I know my notes were total garbage today.

Professor Gorgens told me I did an awesome job this weekend as I left class, and I gave him a warm smile. The guy was a bit of an egotistical jerk sometimes, but he did care about his students and made an effort to keep up with how the athletes were doing.

The food hall was a little quieter today, as students were frantically studied for their first batch of tests or they were just getting sick of the food already, which does happen. I yawned as I grabbed a couple of the premade sandwiches and some of the less questionable fruits. I didn’t really feel like eating inside right now, so I lumbered outside.

I sat down under the big tree, taking small bites out of my sandwich as I read through my textbook for my next class. It was just about October, and while it was starting to cool down, it was still nice enough out to enjoy the weather.

It felt like I was starting to doze off when I heard someone say my name. I looked up groggily and saw Ally waving to me.

“Oh, hey, Ally,” I said. “How have you been?”

Her eyes flickered to the tree uneasily before looking back at me. “Oh, good! I just finished writing my first midterm and have another one tomorrow. So, just been a little busy. How about you?”

I shrugged. “Good. Busy with swimming and school, so the usual.”

I’m not sure what was going on with Ally, but she kept looking up at the branches with some obvious discomfort. I looked up as well, wondering if there was an animal or something, but I didn’t see anything out of the norm. I looked back to her, and when we made eye contact, she gave me a tight smile.

“Is there…is there something wrong?” I asked hesitantly.

Her smile tightened even more, and she shook her head. “Nope, nothing is wrong. Why would you think there’s something wrong?”

Uh, okay. That was weird. I frowned and said, “Well, because you’re all wound up about something.”

“Am I?”

“You seem to be.”

She made a popping sound with her mouth. “I see. Well…this is going to sound so strange, so don’t judge me please, but I don’t like the vibes from the tree.”

I stared at her blankly before nodding. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense.”

“It does?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, totally.” I stood up, brushing my butt off and walking away from the tree. “According to the history of the school, this tree was planted on an old mass grave. It freaks a lot of people out because of that, but I always found it a nice spot to sit.”

Ally’s face paled as she took in the tree entirely. I don’t think I totally understood what was bothering her, but I gently pushed her away until the colour returned to her face. Whatever it was about the tree bothered her, and I was going to respect that.

“Does that bother you?” I asked as I continued to lead her away.

Ally gave a slow nod. “I…it just makes me uncomfortable, that’s all. I didn’t realize that there were so many buried skeletons at this school.” She tried to look over at it one last time, but I placed my hand on her face and directed her attention to me instead.

When our eyes connected, Ally made a strange face as her cheeks turned red. I know sometimes my stare can be pretty intense, according to the several people on the team who told me, so I dropped my hand and looked away slightly.

“Sorry, I just didn’t think you should be looking at the tree if it was freaking you out that much, you know?” I said with a grin.

“Oh, uh, yes!” Ally composed herself and nodded firmly. “Thank you for that. Sometimes I just get into my own head and it’s hard to get out of there.”

“Anxiety can be a bitch,” I said with sympathy.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” she said with a small chuckle.

I walked with Ally to her next class, just wanting to make sure everything was all good before I headed to mine. Some nice-looking guy with a small scar on his eyebrow was waiting for her when we got there, and I waved goodbye to her as I walked down the steps. Ally seemed more adjusted to the student life than last time I spoke to her, which was good. I was glad that she was making friends and finding herself a nice routine to fall into.

I was just about to dash to my class when I realized I left all my things under the tree when I made Ally leave. I ran over and gathered all my things quickly, sparing one last glace at the branches before leaving.

Maybe it was the trick of my eye, but it did kind of look like there was a shadow. I blinked and looked again, only to see the clear sky through the branches. Huh.

XXX

Practice was an easy affair today. Coach Jacob liked to give us one easy day after a meet, something we all appreciated. Plus, he started the day off with great news.

“Gunner is allowed to compete again!” he announced before any of us got into the water.

Several people cheered and Kerry gave him a small peck on the cheek. Gunner looked embarrassed but determined. He apologized to all of us for his behaviour this summer and that he was going to make it up to us.

Jackie reached over and patted his shoulder. “Hey, it happens to the best of us, Gunner. My sister fell in with the wrong crowd and ended up needing rehab. The important thing is that you got clean.”

Gunner brushed away tears and gave her a hug, which caused a huge group hug. I was happy for him, really. Sure, he made a mistake. But you’re supposed to be allowed to learn from those mistakes and grow from them. He was lucky to have such a good support system, because not everyone did. Coach Jacob rubbed his head and told everyone to get into the water and to stop being so sappy. A few of us laughed as we broke up the hug and did as we were told.

It was about halfway through practice when Jackie hopped out of the pool to run to the bathroom. Normally Coach Jacob hated when we did that, but I think he was in a good mood today, so he let it slide. He read through the next set and we got to work.

It wasn’t until we were finished with the set that I noticed Jackie hadn’t returned. That was really strange. I think other people noticed too, because I saw some heads swiveling as they looked for her. Jackie’s lane partner Tammy said under her breath, “What’s taking her so long? Did her tampon get stuck or something?”

I said I’d go see what was going on and pushed myself out of the pool. I padded lightly into the locker room and called out her name, only to get no response. I felt my heart speed up a little, as I felt a pit of concern growing in my stomach.

I walked into where the bathrooms were and knocked on all the doors. Still nothing. Maybe she just had to race home for something? I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling, however. That wasn’t like Jackie at all. She always made sure to let people know where she was going, even if it was a sudden situation change.

My heart was pounding loudly in my ears now as I called out again and still got nothing in return. I shuddered as I walked towards the locker room, feeling a sudden chill. I shakily punched in the combination and opened the door to where our lockers were located.

I couldn’t help but shriek when I saw Jackie lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. She groaned as I grabbed a towel and shoved it against her stomach, where it looked like someone had cut her with something. She opened her eyes and tried to say something, but I shushed her.

“Jackie, sweetie, don’t say anything right now,” I said, trying to keep the panic from my voice. “You need to lie very still, okay?”

She gave the teeniest of nods as her eyes lost focus again. I heard someone running into the change room, most likely responding to the sound of my scream.

I move the door with my foot so the worst of the scene is hidden from view. “Don’t come in!” I shouted.

“Lyn, what’s going on?” That was Loryn.

“Jackie’s been hurt, she needs medical attention ASAP.”

I heard Loryn swear loudly. “Lyn, my phone is in there!”

“Use the phone on the deck or upstairs!” My voice cracked with fear as the blood seeped through the towel. I grabbed another one and applied pressure on the wound, praying that it would slow down or stop. Jackie was looking very pale, and her breathing was shallow.

I forced myself to look away for a second, knowing I was getting tunnel vision. The lockers were all open and the light overhead was out. There were huge gouges in the wall that looked like they were trying to spell something, but I was not in the right head space to even try and read it right now.

The door opened and Coach Jacob stood in the doorway, taking the scene in. He went very pale and had to lean against the wall to keep himself upright.

“I-is she…?”

I shook my head. “Breathing, alive for now. She needs to get to the hospital, now.”

He nodded shakily. “They’re on the way. Loryn…she called.”

Thank God for Loryn. She was good a keeping calm under pressure. I looked down at Jackie and breathed a little easier when I saw that this towel hadn’t soaked through. I have no idea who did this to her, but they couldn’t have gotten too far. I felt like crying so bad right now, but the tears just wouldn’t come out. It was like my body knew what it needed to do right now, and crying was not it.

I refused to leave Jackie’s side until the paramedic gently removed me from the scene to ask some questions. I answered them the best I could, but I honestly had no idea what happened. I thought it was a stab mark at first, but as I thought about it a little bit more, I couldn’t get the visual of claw marks out of my head.

XXX

I sat on the hospital bed, my guts tied up into a nervous knot. I had to be brought in because I went into shock after I- well, after it. I checked my phone and paused when I saw that I missed a call from home. That was something unusual. Honestly? I didn’t feel like dealing with that right now, so I just swiped the notification off. If they couldn’t be bothered to leave a voice mail, then I can’t be bothered to call them back.

There was a knock at the door. I looked over as Loryn, Kerry, and Matt poked their heads in. I smiled weakly as they shuffled into the room. I took Loryn’s hand into my own as she sat down on my bed. Matt pulled over another chair and him and Kerry sat down next to the bed.

“Is…Jackie…?” I croaked, unable to get the words out.

Loryn nodded slightly. “Jackie is okay. She needed some serious stiches and won’t be able to compete for the rest of the season. Jacob and Robin are with her while they wait for her parents to arrive.”

I sighed in minor relief. “At least she’s okay. Um…did they find anyone?”

“They claim that they found a guy wielding a knife,” said Matt. “But Lyn, I’m not too sure about that. Why would some random guy attack a student in the locker room?”

That was my thought too. Also, I swear it was claw marks. They were straight across, not stabbed in. The thought of Jackie lying on the floor flashed in my mind and I had to squeeze my eyes shut as I waited out the wave of nausea. Loryn squeezed my hand as I struggled to control myself.

“Did they give you anything?” she asked quietly.

I shook my head slowly. “No, I refused.”

“Why’d you refuse?”

“I didn’t want to be drugged up if something happened to Jackie…”

There was a tense silence in the room. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else, so I directed my attention to the window. The ticking of the clock sounded incredibly loud as time passed by. The IV pump I was connected to chugged along as it pumped some fluids into my body. I could hear Kerry sniffling in her chair, unable to say the words she needed to hear. It was like my brain was shutting down, unable to process what had happened.

Poor Jackie didn’t deserve this. Not that anyone did, but Jackie was such a sweet person. She would give you the shirt off her back if you asked and would then give you even more. This was a random attack, but why? The why was bouncing around, giving me a headache.

I felt Loryn reach over and brush her thumb against my cheek. I looked at her confused as to why she did that, then I realized I was actually crying. I don’t cry often; it just wasn’t something I did. I began to tremble and completely lost it when the three of them gave me a tight hug.

I cried and cried until I couldn’t anymore.

#unnatural affairs #ua #lyn hart #ally holland #paranormal #gore mention #violence happens off screen #sports #lots of sports #mystery #ghosts #this chapter gets the plot moving #romance #Lyn is a little oblivious lol

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