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calif0rnia-lovers · 4 years ago

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Lover of Mine #5 | Angel Reyes

part I | part II | part II | part IV | series taglist

Title: A Heavy Heart to Carry

Thought that I would change, but I'm the same guy Blamed it on my youth, but I know I've had time

a/n: split this original part into 2. the second half of the couple's retreat will be in 5.5

warning: a character experiences a panic attack

rating: 💔

Sum: Angel Reyes doesn't fear much, but he's scared to face you once it's set in that he's broken your cardinal rule. He must decide what's more important: maintaining a lie or sharing a secret that will change the way you look at him forever.

Words: 9.4k

“Take him home, Ezekiel. Now. I’m serious. I am going to fucking kill him if he tries to stay here tonight. And then, I’m going to kill you for letting him.”

These are the words that stopped Angel Reyes in his tracks. Left him standing on the front steps, afraid to move past the threshold of the front door to his own house.

When he pulled into the driveway, exhausted covered in a mixture of dirt, sweat and blood, Angel was met with a sight that somehow managed to wring the knots in his stomach tighter.

The light from the living room cast a golden hue across the dark lawn.

He knew the odds of you being asleep upon his arrival were slim to none. You haven’t waited up for him in years. There’s no need to wait up when you know his whereabouts.

At some point in the evening, the attempts of communication stopped. Angel isn’t sure why, but he knows it isn’t a good sign.

He’d pushed against Ez’s shoulder prompting him to step up to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” Ez had shocked his older brother, stepping into the war zone to calmly produce some sort of explanation. “We had to go down south, and shit got--we lost track of time. By the time we got finished, we--”

“Now that I know that neither of you is lying dead in a ditch somewhere, you can leave.” Despite your words, Ez didn’t move. He glanced over his shoulder towards Angel. “Or stay outside, I don't care, but he's not stepping foot in my house. Tell him I said test me.”

Needless to say, he didn’t.

Angel heeded the warning allowing his brother to drive him home. He didn’t bother calling you.

What’s the point of calling to apologize when you’ve just spent half the night ignoring the calls from the same person?

Hours have passed, and Angel hasn’t slept.

Although he’s now freshly showered, the cut on his hand poorly wrapped, Angel Reyes finds himself in the same predicament. Outside of your house.

Scared shitless.

Only this time around, Ez isn’t willing to risk his life for the sake of being collateral damage.

Both men remain in the driveway, eyes on the sunflower yellow-painted door of 1101 Rock Creek Avenue. Each is resting against the hood of Angel’s car. Waiting, silently willing the other to bravely ring the doorbell.

Angel releases the smoke in his lungs before reaching up to remove his sunglasses.

“You gotta go in at some point,” Ez glances over at his brother.

Angel doesn’t respond. He drops his cigarette bud to the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his shoe.

“Especially since we’ve been out here nearly an hour,” Ez continues, a tiny smile finding his lips as the sight of Angel’s rolling eyes. “Neighbors are probably gonna put in a call--”

“I’m checking the windows,” Angel responds. The humor in his voice falls flat as his eyes search the front of the house. “Gotta make sure she doesn’t shoot me the moment I touch the driveway.”

“Shouldn’t have taught her how to shoot.”

The daggered stare sent his way causes the youngest Reyes to chuckle. Shaking his head, Ez takes a step forward.

“Angel. It doesn’t matter if you go in now or later.” He sighs. “If Y/N's gonna shoot you, she's gonna shoot you-- regardless of the time.”

“Yeah.”

Getting up, Angel crosses the lawn to the front door. Although he now has a key, he reaches forward to ring the doorbell. For a brief second, he considers turning around and heading back to his car.

His stomach tightens as the door swings open. He lets out a sigh of relief when he’s met with the sight of a smiling Isabela.

Her smile slips, her eyes narrowing as she stepped outside. She waits until the door is shut securely behind her to speak.

“What the fuck, Reyes!” She shoves hard against Angel’s shoulder, not blinking as he stumbles a step back. Angel massages his shoulder as she lowers her voice. “I orchestrated the perfect week for you two. All you had to do was show up with a packed bag, and you somehow managed to fuck everything up. Where the hell were you last night?”

Although he’s had all night to come up with an excuse, no coherent words come out when Angel opens his mouth. Isabela’s eyes roll, her attention shifting to a quiet Ezekiel standing just beyond his brother’s shoulder.

“And you. I thought you were the smart one.”

Ez looks away from a flushed Angel to find Isabela’s glare on him. He opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly Angel’s inability to speak has washed over the youngest Reyes.

“You didn’t think it was smart to drag him home in time for his son's recital?”

Angel’s voice has returned. It comes out lower than he’s intended. His eyes briefly shift to the front door.

“She’s--”

“Pissed.” Isabela sighs as she turns to the door. “I’d thank Bishop next time you see him. He talked her down last night.”

Isabela pauses just as Angel steps forward to follow her inside.

“Angel, she lied to Jeyson for you,” she says. “You need to talk to him.”

“I know.”

“Hey, lego master,” Isabela smiles as she steps back inside. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Jeyson is on his stomach, lying in the center of the living room floor. Chin resting in his hands, he is studying the progress he’s made on his lego set.

A grin brightens his face as Angel steps inside. He scrambles to his feet, pulling a chuckle from his father as he nearly crashes into his legs.

“Hey, lil man. You good?”

Allowing him a quick hug, Jeyson takes Angel’s hand in his. He tugs him towards the living room. He motions towards the legos on the floor.

“I finished all the escape pods! Now, you can help me with the left-wing--”

“Hold up,” Angel diverts Jeyson’s attention, lifting him off the ground, forcing him to silence. “I wanna talk to you about something--”

“Last night?” His question silence his father. Jeyson reaches forward, his fingers tracing the patch on Angel’s chest. “Mom talked to me already.”

“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to apologize. To say I’m sorry for not being there to see you play.”

“It’s okay.” The smile he offers tightens Angel’s throat. It is a smile that matches his words perfectly. A smile of forgiveness often comes when a child is willing to look past moments of a letdown if that means they can still spend time with that person.

“It’s not okay,” Angel admits. He watches as Jeyson’s gaze lifts to meet his before dropping to patch. “I broke a promise, and I’m not supposed to do that. I’m sorry.”

Jeyson studies his father’s expression. A smile slowly spreads across his face as an idea sets in.

“I can play it for you now.” He suggests, his attention moving to the piano across the room.

That’s where you find the two when you step into the living room.

Jeyson has finished playing and is giggling as he watches Angel try to match the series of keys he just showed him.

“What’s so funny?” Angel’s brow arches as Jeyson attempts to stifle his laughter. “I think it sounded pretty good.”

Jeyson shakes his head.

“You weren’t paying attention.” Reaching over, he moves Angel’s hand into the correct placement. “Your fingers aren’t in the right place.”

Angel’s gaze falls to his hands. To him, they seem to be in nearly the exact same spot. But he knows better than to argue with your son. He watches Jeyson’s fingers, trying to match the same tune. Only he can’t, the smile on his face growing once he realizes the tempo has changed. Jeyson plays at a cadence that seems hyper speed to his father but is nothing out of the normal for him.

“It’s not nice to show off,” Angel chuckles as he tickles Jeyson’s side.

Angel glances over his shoulder, his smile dampening as he finds you waiting patiently by the door. Jeyson’s smile does the same, his eyes widening once your conversation from last night sets in.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes,” you nod, watching as he gets up, his head hanging forward as he crosses the room. “Remember we talked about this last night?”

Jeyson waits until he’s standing before you to speak. With his arms wrapped around your middle, face pressing against your shirt, his words come out muffled.

“But, I want to come with you.”

“I know, but you have to stay and keep Isabela company. You guys are going to the carnival tomorrow. You're going to have so much fun.” Your fingers brush through his hair, a smile finding your lips as Jeyson tips his head back to look at you. “Besides, I won’t be gone long.”

“Five days is a long time,” Jeyson pouts. “You’re never gone that long.”

He’s right. The longest you and Jeyson have been apart being two days. For the weekends when he would spend the majority of his time at his father’s house.

“You can call me whenever you want,” you remind him as you squat down in front of him. “And then, I’ll be back before you know it.”

Tommy Flores currently stands at the front of the line. The weight of the metal door causes it to slam shut with a loud bang.

The echo vibrates through his chest, the force doubling him over. The dialed-up pitch brings Tommy’s hands to his ears.

He’s stopped in his tracks. His silent plea, to stop the ringing in his ears, sparks a slew of grunted protests from the inmates behind him.

Officer Rogers stands near Tommy, his shoulder resting against the wall. Each time an inmate is escorted through the secured door, the guard slams it shut with as much force as he can. He watched as Tommy flinched each time, the sound louder with each step he got closer. Now that Tommy stands directly in front of it, the sound is too loud.

Rogers steps forward, his lips turning up into a sneer.

"You alright there, Flores?" The lack of concern in his voice is amplified by the soft chuckle he releases. "You look like shit. Rough night?"

It's a question, Rogers knows the answer to. Better than anyone--well almost anyone.

He was the one who woke Tommy, in the middle of the night, the glare of his flashlight blinding the inmate. He yanked Tommy from bed, hand-delivering him to the showers. He stood guard, watching as Tommy took each blow and kick sent his way. He hand-delivered Tommy back to his cell, denying his trip to the infirmary.

Rogers would never admit it, but he was initially shocked when saw Tommy shuffle into the visitation line. He knew Tommy had a scheduled visit but didn't expect him to have the strength to bother trying to attend it.

"Your girlfriend coming today?" Rogers continues as he watches Tommy's fist clench. "Must be. That's the only reason I could think you'd get up this morning. Maybe I should let your friends give you another round tonight. How's that sound?"

Tommy's body is bumped forward—a silent warning from his cellmate to move. The shove to his shoulder clenches his jaw shut. But Tommy knows better than to hold up the line any longer than he already has.

Each step he takes is slow, sending a jolt of searing, white-hot pain down his spine.

The swelling of his right eye limits his vision, but he’s able to recognize a familiar face in the crowded room.

Each grey table is occupied by anxiously waiting loved ones. Tired from the extensive process of being cleared for visitation day. Hopeful their time won’t get cut short due to the delay of the inmate's arrival.

As he’s shuffled forward, Tommy’s gaze is fixated on his feet. It’s easier to ignore the look of pure rage directed his way.

“Stop staring.” The smile on Tommy’s lips is a good attempt. No matter how much he wills it, it can’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

Leonardo Flores's gaze slowly studies the man before him. He knows his younger brother better than anyone. The blue Stockton uniform covers most of the damage but judging by Tommy’s walk and shallow breathing, he’s nursing a broken rib.

Leo doesn’t speak until Tommy’s gaze lifts. “I’d ask how you’re holding up, but it seems you’re still getting settled.”

His observation prompts his brother to shrug. Tommy winces as he shifts to bring his hands to rest on the table.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Tommy smiles.

“I thought this lawyer you got was supposed to be good—"

“She is.” Tommy’s sigh goes unnoticed. “She's good.”

“If she’s so good, why the fuck are you in gen pop?” His brother’s eyes roll, Leo’s head shaking once he gets no response. “Huh? She doesn’t seem too concerned about doing her job. If she was you wouldn’t have been nearly beaten to a pulp—"

Leo’s rant slowly fades out, blending into the surrounding conversations. It takes all of his concentration for Tommy to drown out the sound. Tommy’s eyes are shut, his left hand massaging his brow. The throbbing in his head seems to be getting worse. He flinches as Leo’s boot scrapes his shin.

“I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say, Leo.” Tommy laughs dryly, the throbbing in his head pumping irritation into his voice. “She could pay off the entire fucking city of Santo Padre, it’s not gonna mean shit.”

His eyes open to see Leo’s jaw clenched. He presses on as Leo opens his mouth to speak.

“They put me here because they’re hoping I don’t make it to trial.”

“Judging by how you look, you won’t.”

Tommy shakes his head, dismissing the observation.

“I’m fine. I need you to do something for me.”

An uneasy wave washes over him at the sight of Leo’s rolling eyes.

“What?” Leo chuckles, his arms crossing over his chest. “Your brothers can’t help you?”

“I don’t trust the club with this,” Tommy admits.

No matter the amount of truth behind his statement, Leo’s expression doesn’t change.

Probably because Leo knows the truth. With the number of years he’s facing, Tommy will soon be forgotten by his fellow Horsemen. You’re only worth remembering if you’re valuable to the M.C. Tommy’s not valuable rotting in Stockton. It doesn’t matter if the charges he’s acquired were at the expense of the club.

“Leo—"

Leo’s sigh drowns out the plea in Tommy’s voice.

“What is it this time, Tommy?”

Tommy doesn’t miss a beat. His voice drops, his eyes briefly passing to the guard nearby.

Angel forgot what it’s like to be on the receiving end of your silent treatment. It’s brutal. Probably because you stick to it, religiously. The silence isn’t the worst part. He knows you’ll have to talk to him—eventually. He also knows that once you do, the words you’ve prepared will cut him to the bone.

When it comes to arguments, Angel operates on pure emotion—always ready to fight a war. He says the first thing that comes to mind, often trying to hurt whoever he’s arguing with before they can hurt him. He wishes you were the same.

You have an incredible ability to walk away from an argument on a whim. He can count on his left hand the number of times you’ve raised your voice at him. In all the time he’s known you.

You don’t see the purpose in having a screaming match. It never gets you anywhere. One of you has to operate on the side of logic. Angel has learned that once you’ve had the chance to get your thoughts together he’s in for a world of trouble.

He’d foolishly tried to get the conversation going the moment you both got in the car, but you beat him to the punch.

“I’m not talking to you right now.”

The declaration had come out just as Angel opened his mouth to speak. It also made him close his mouth, his brow furrowing.

“We’re about to drive for four and a half hours, Y/N,” he sighed, his eyes rolling as he sticks the key in the ignition. “You’re really not gonna say anything to me the entire ride there?”

He waits for you to respond, his eyes dropping to the bouncing of your knee.

“And then what? You’re not going to go speak to me at the hotel? What sense does that ma--”

“Trust me, Angel. You do not want me to say what’s on my mind right now.”

Angel’s not certain if it’s the admission itself, or the look in your eyes, but he silently redirects his attention to starting the car.

The four-and-a-half-hour car ride ironically turns into a six-hour trip of stop-and-go traffic. Six hours of Angel left to fiddle through the various radio stations while you silently scroll through your iPad.

At the three-hour mark, your voice breaks the silence, peaking Angel’s hopes. At this point, he’s willing to take you yelling at him if that means you’ll eventually talk again.

He glances away from the bumper-to-bumper traffic to find you holding up your iPad. The screen facing him, you ask. “Have you seen this before?”

He leans over the console for a better look at the image on the screen. His stomach drops as he takes in the jet-black stallion, his mouth going dry as his gaze passes over the red eyes.

“Thinking about getting some new ink?” He jokes his throat clearing as your eyes roll.

“Nevermind.”

Redirecting your attention back to your iPad, you don’t catch the nervous glance Angel sends your way. A few minutes of silence pass before he glances back in your direction.

“What’s it for? The uh--tattoo.”

“Work.”

That’s all he’s able to get out of you. Even after you arrived at the hotel, where you discover that Isabela has booked the two of you for the hotel’s honeymoon suite. Which comes with a complimentary package that Angel is almost certain you won’t partake in. He gets nothing out of you when you are both informed that your introductory session with the couple therapist on sight is in less than an hour after your late arrival.

The counselor, Dr. Mallory, currently sits across from the two of you. The smile on her face remains in place, even as she watches you put as much distance as possible between you and Angel. The task is nearly impossible with the small sofa she’s sat you both on.

Angel's eyes roll to the ceiling before he lets out a deep breath.

Dr. Mallory’s question breaks the silence.

“How long have you two been married?”

Angel’s eyes shift to you. He answers as your gaze remains focused on the pillow in your lap. “We’re not.”

“Divorced?”

“Seven years.” A dry laugh escapes his lips as he softly shakes his head. “To do the date...actually.”

“Oh, I see.” Dr. Mallory’s smile widens as her gaze passes between the two of you. “You’ve decided to join our retreat, as a means of reconnecting. Hoping to bring back, and foster, that love that brought your two beautiful souls together all those years ago.”

“Uh...yeah.” Angel nods slowly as Dr. Mallory’s hand shifts to rest over her heart.

Her eyes close, her smile softening as she lets out a sigh.

“Love is such a beautiful thing,” her eyes open as she continues. “And I am so happy to see the two of you are willing to give it another try. But, more so, I am honored that you have elected me to help guide you through this journey.”

“What exactly does this ‘journey’ entail? We’re not about to go sit in the desert and sing kumbaya or some sh--”

The elbow that digs into Angel’s side swallows the rest of his sentence. He glances over at you.

“It’s a serious question,” he coughs. “I didn’t realize we signed up for some journey that has to do with...souls traveling together…”

Dr. Mallory’s eyes had brightened at Angel’s question. Angel’s words trail off as he realizes Dr. Mallory is no longer seated. She is not standing directly in front of both of you. Holding two orange sheets of paper.

“I have accumulated a list of activities that will allow the two of you to get in touch with your inner selves this week.” She beams, not noticing the uneasy look that washes over Angel’s face as she continues. “One cannot love their partner wholeheartedly until they truly love themselves.”

Angel’s eyes quickly scan the list, realizing that it's more than a list of suggestions. It's a checklist.

“This week, the two of you will work on opening the airs of communication,” Dr. Mallory continues, motioning between the two of you. “Which I can sense are bogged down at the moment, by anger and mistrust. We want to take the time to open them back up--”

“No offense, Doc, but this isn’t going to work.”

“Mr. Reyes, I ask that you don’t speak that way this week. Everything that you put into your relationship can work.”

“It’ll be hard to work on our…” It takes all Angel has not to roll his eyes. “...airs of communication when she’s not even speaking to me.”

Dr. Mallory returns to her seat, her attention focusing on you.

“Angel is right. Ms. Reyes, care to share what’s on your mind with him? He seems eager to listen.”

Angel watches silently as you keep your gaze on the sheet of paper before you.

“Last night was the first night that I have wanted to kill you. And I mean it in the most literal sense, Angel.”

Angel’s throat tightens, his gaze dropping to his hands.

“You’ve done a lot of shit, Angel. But last night you didn’t see your son’s face when he realized that you were not showing up. You promised that you would never do that again.”

Angel attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. He shifts in his seat, his gaze briefly looking towards you.

“I know.”

“I had to get a call from the school telling me that you decided not to pick our son up. You could have picked up the phone, and called me.” The calmness in your voice does nothing to ease the knots in Angel’s stomach. “Since you’ve forgotten, Angel. You don’t get the courtesy of falling off the face of the earth. Club business, or not. You have a son.”

Angel doesn’t offer up a response. Primarily because he knows what’s coming next.

“What could possibly have happened that you disappeared off the face of the earth last night--and don’t say club business. Bishop is not that great of a liar.”

Angel swallows, his eyes briefly drifting across the room to where Dr. Mallory sits.

He can feel your expectant gaze on him, but he can’t bring himself to look at you.

He can also feel it rising in his throat. Words he hadn’t planned on telling you. His eyes drift shut as he sighs.

“I uh...I followed Samuel to this bar downtown.” A silence falls over the room. Angel looks up from his hands, watching as your eyes widen. “Aiden, he told me what he did to you--and I just wanted to talk to him.”

“And that’s all you did?” The look of skepticism sent his way causes Angel’s jaw to tighten.

“Yeah. I told him to leave you alone.”

Dr. Mallory interrupts the silence, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Samuel? Who is he?”

“Nobody.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “He’s her boss.”

“I went on a few dates with him,” you sigh. Your fingers massage your temple.

You already know where this conversation is going.

A smile finds Dr. Mallory’s face as she watches Angel shake his head.

“No, this is great.” An encouraging smile finds her face. “You see, you two are already past the most difficult part. Starting the conversation. Angel, tell Y/N how you feel about this situation involving Samuel.”

“You shouldn't have dated other people.”

Your brow furrows as his statement sinks in. “Did you miss the part where we got divorced?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying? Do you know how many women I had to hear that you slept with? Half of the time from you!” The sight of Angel’s rolling eyes is enough to make you shift in your seat. Turning to face him, you watch his jaw clench. “So you can fuck anyone you want, but it’s a problem when I go out on a date with someone?”

“Yeah.”

You blink, a humorless laugh escaping your lips. Clearly, you’ve heard him wrong.

“Do you know how hard it is watching you fall in love with someone else?”

“Oh my goodness!” Your voice comes out muffled against the palms of your hands. “What is it with you and Samuel putting more stock in this situation than it deserves? I wasn’t falling in love with him, Angel--”

“But that’s what you were looking for?” He cuts you off, the raising of his voice causing your hands to drop. “Why else do people date? Yeah, I slept around, but you never had to worry about me trying to replace you with someone else. For years, I’ve had to watch you go through relationships, bringing other men around my son like you were auditioning them for the role of his father--”

“You know I wouldn’t do that--”

“Yeah, well, we all do things we don’t think we’re capable of.”

“Well, Dr. Mallory. Congratulations. You have just witnessed the one thing Angel Reyes is always capable of doing.” You shove the pillow in your lap towards Angel. “Trying to make me feel guilty for something that he’s done. This time, I’m not apologizing to you for anything. And I’m not saying 'thank you' if that’s what this whole woe is me act is about. I didn’t ask you to go see Samuel. Just like I didn’t ask you to sit here and lie to my face.”

“I’m not lying to you--”

“You may have gone to see Samuel, but that’s not where you were last night. I know you, Angel. You didn’t skip out on our son for Samuel.” It’s an observation that gets the response you’re looking for. It’s a look that lasts for only a brief second. A look in Angel's eyes that tells you that you’re right. It disappears as quickly as it had come. “And until you’re willing to stop lying to me, I’m not staying here.”

Angel’s jaw sets. “Since we’re talking about capabilities, her specialty is walking out. She walked out on me seven years ago, and she’s doing it now.”

“Maybe this time, you'll actually stop and ask yourself why,” you mumble as you step over his feet.

Ez is sitting on the living room sofa. He’s not in the most comfortable position but hasn’t been able to move for the last hour. He’s drinking a beer, his eyes on the television playing quietly across the room.

He’s not even sure what show he’s watching. A series Isabela had roped him into. The room is pitch dark--apart from the glow of the screen--the house quiet. Jeyson has been asleep since his 9 pm bedtime.

Despite her need to catch up on her favorite tv show, Isabela is also asleep. With her head resting against Ez’s shoulder, her body curled up against his, Isabela has been asleep for the last hour. If asked, she’ll blame it on Ez. The second he allowed her to share the blanket with him, his body heat acted as a furnace. One that pulled her right to sleep.

Ez is currently debating on the best way to transfer her from the living to the bed when his phone lights up.

He knows who is calling before he checks the caller I.D.

Angel has been texting Ez non-stop.

Angel’s voice comes out low through the receiver. “If I don’t call you back tomorrow it’s because she’s stabbed me in my sleep.”

“You better take the couch tonight then.” Ez brow furrows, wincing as he double-checks the time on his brightly lit screen. “Why are you whispering?”

“I’m in the bathroom.” Angel quickly dismisses his brother’s question. “Listen, it wouldn’t make a difference. Trust me. She hasn’t been talking to me--except for when she ripped me a new one in therapy today--”

“Therapy...hope you tipped the doc.” Ez chuckles. “Having a witness might have saved your life.”

“...she knows about Samuel.”

Ez releases a sigh, his hand running down his face. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

“I had to tell her,” Angel mumbles. “It's not like I could tell her about last night. I figured…”

“Give her something else to be mad about?” Ez shakes his head, sparing his brother the laugh. “Angel--”

“I’m working on it.” Angel’s side goes quiet for a moment. His admission is an admission of truth. He has been thinking about it for the last twenty-four hours. “I'm gonna tell her, I just need the right moment...besides, don’t rush me. She’s gonna be mad at you too when she finds out you helped.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how I always end up in your shit.”

“That’s what brothers are for,” Angel chuckles. “Remember what I said. If I don’t answer tomorrow--”

“Bye, Angel.”

Hanging up, Ez pushes his phone aside.

He carefully lifts the blanket covering him and Isabela. He successfully carries her down the hallway to the bedroom and has finished tucking her in when she stirs.

She watches as he removes one of the extra pillows from the bed before taking a step towards the door.

“I know it might be extremely difficult for you to stay on your side of the bed,” she yawns, rubbing at her eyes. “But I’m willing to share it with you, as long as you let me take the left.”

A smile spreads across Ez’s face as he watches her pat space next to her. He lifts the pillow in his hand. “Bed’s all yours tonight. I’m gonna take the couch.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he chuckles. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Okay,” Isabela’s eyes are already drifting shut as she yawns. “Well, just know the offer still stands if you change your mind.”

“Besides, I gotta at least take you out on a date before we start fighting over sides of the bed.”

“Give me the time and place, and I'll be there,” she giggles, her face nuzzling against her pillow. “Just know I’m a tough negotiator.”

Since when has knocking become so difficult?

It is the question you ask yourself as you stand outside the bathroom door. You quickly knock before you can change your mind.

“Yeah?”

“Um--are you decent?”

Your eyes grip shut as you let your own words sink in.

Are you decent?

The bathroom door opens to reveal a freshly showered Angel. He stands on one side of the double sink. His phone is in one hand, a towel in the other. He wears just a pair of briefs, his hair still dripping from the shower.

“What are you doing? You’ve been in here forever.”

“I've been done for a minute,” he responds, his eyes glued to his iPhone. “Didn’t know you were waiting on me.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t go to sleep until I brush my teeth.”

“You could’ve just come in.”

“You were taking a shower.” Your response is automatic.

It is also the same thing that has kept you waiting patiently on the bed for the past thirty minutes.

“You’ve seen me naked before, querida.”

He glances away from his phone to find you still hovering in the doorway. Toothbrush in hand. Your weight shifts as his eyes linger on the black satin sleepshirt you wear. His gaze returns to his phone once he realizes he’s still staring.

“You can enter since apparently, you need the invitation,” he responds, a smile finding his lips. He doesn’t need to see your face to know your eyes are rolling.

Angel may be silent as you start your nighttime skin routine, but he’s panicking inside. Panicking might not be the right word. Paranoia has begun to set in.

From the moment he and Ez made it stateside Friday night, the realization of his actions began to set in. The realization that he has somehow managed to tie himself to Tommy Flores for the second time. The note he'd shoved into his pocket was now in the trash back in Santo Padre. The message, however, was seared in his mind.

Always get insurance.

You were right to ask what Angel has been doing for the last thirty minutes. He’s been searching for information on Tommy. From the moment he started the search, Angel realized this was a terrible mistake.

Now that you’re standing next to him, the cut on his hand seems to throb. He glances down at the bandage. It’s bled through and needs to be removed.

You’re brushing your teeth when you glance up to the mirror before you. You pause, watching Angel's reflection as he studies his right hand. Strangely, it’s the first time you’ve noticed the bandage.

You wait until you’ve rinsed your mouth to face him.

“What happened to your hand?”

Instinctively, Angel moves his hand out of sight. He drops it to his side.

“Nothing,” he responds, suddenly focused on toweling his damp hair.

“It was bleeding?” You reach around him, ignoring his silent protest.

Angel knows there’s no point in fighting you on it. He turns to face you, allowing you to get a better look at his hand. Unwrapping it, you feel him flinch as the cool air hits the open cut. He drops the towel to the floor, resting back against the sink as your brow furrows.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Before he can respond, you’re already out of sight.

Angel stays where he is, waiting patiently for over five minutes. His brow rises when you return, a black bag in your hand. It is one he’s known you to carry for as long as he can remember. He always teases you for carrying the first aid kit, but always seems to need you to use it on him.

A tiny smile finds his lips as he watches you sit the bag on the sink. “You packed this in your suitcase.”

“No,” your eyes roll as you reach forward to cut on the water. “I keep it in the trunk. Let me see your hand.”

Offering it, Angel watches your expressions as you take the time to study the cut. Whatever questions are on your mind, you don’t share them with him. You don’t say anything else. You silently clean and wrap the cut.

“Thanks.”

The kiss he presses against your cheek halts the washing of your hands. He doesn’t linger to leave a second. He picks up his phone before leaving you alone.

When Angel wakes, he finds you quietly moving around the suite. Cell Phone in hand, one shoe in the other.

“You’re leaving me?”

His question causes you to jump.

“Yeah,” You release a sigh as you turn to find him watching you from his makeshift bed. “I was hoping you’d sleep through my getaway.”

Sitting up, Angel glances over as you take a seat alongside him. He silently watches as you slip on your shoe, his eyes passing over your leggings and sports bra.

“Where are you going?”

“Yoga. Figured you wouldn’t want to come. It’s not really your thing.”

“Yeah, but it’s a couples class…”

He doesn’t add anything to his previous statement. Instead, he stands.

“So, you’re coming?” You ask, watching as he pauses to stretch.

“Yeah, it’s just yoga.” He yawns. "Besides, Dr. Mallory said we gotta do things to nurture our souls."

You’re not sure if Angel tagged along to make a point or because he honestly thought it would be easy.

At the moment, you’re concentrating on keeping your breathing controlled and steady. Your eyes are closed, the only blinders you have for the man on the mat alongside yours.

Although you can no longer see him, you know Angel is in the same state as before.

Struggling.

The hushed “shit” he releases, as he wobbles, brings a tiny smile to your lips.

Angel’s eyes shift from the instructor, who is slowly making her way around the room, towards you. He readjusts his posture, trying his best to mirror your stance. But it seems no matter what he does, it doesn’t look like yours.

He wipes at the sweat on his brow. “I thought we were starting with the easy stuff.”

“This is a beginner’s pose,” you note. Your eyes open, a giggle escaping your lips once you take in the look of skepticism on his face.

“You sure?” Angel watches as you effortlessly move into the next pose. He releases a huff, his neck rolling before he tries to follow your lead. “Seems like you signed us up for the advanced class. Just so you could torture me.”

“I didn’t even know you were coming.”

Angel knows your statement is one of pure truth, but that doesn’t stop him from chuckling, “feels like a setup.”

“You know you can always do the modifications,” you nod towards the front of the room. “It’s easier.”

Angel follows your gaze to where an elderly couple is demonstrating the modified version of the pose.

“Easier?” Angel scoffs. “I don’t need easier, I’m doing pretty good--”

He speaks too soon. His weight tips forward, the sight causing your concentration to break. Before he can fall, you catch his left hand pulling him upright.

Angel blinks. His widened eyes move to meet your gaze. A sheepish grin finds his lips as your grip remains tight around his hand.

You eye his less than steady stance. “Are you okay?”

Angel nods. The grin on his face begins to morph. The sight of his smirk causes you to drop his hand.

“Shit, for a second, I thought you were mad enough to let me faceplant.”

“Shut up,” your eyes roll as you redirect your attention back to the instructor. “I just have good reflexes.”

Halfway through the class, Angel gives up trying to follow along. He spends the remainder of class distracting you. When he’s successful in making you smile, he complies with your request “Angel, please focus. You’re going to get us kicked out.”

He settles back into participating. He sticks solely to the modifications. When the class ends, he manages a few steps before collapsing on your mat.

He rests his head on your lap, preventing you from standing. His eyes drift shut as he lets out a deep breath.

“Angel, get up.”

“I can’t,” he sighs. His right-hand rests over his heart, the dramatic change in his breathing causing you to shake your head. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Your eyes roll as he remains where he is. Head resting against your lap, eyes closed, a tiny smile on his lips. It grows into a familiar grin as the warmth of your fingers brushes against his skin.

Your touch lightly brushes through his hair. You watch his eyes open to meet yours.

“I thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing,” he chuckles.

“I’m relaxed,” you smile, your touch drifting to his jaw. “You’re not relaxed.”

“Now I am. It’s what you owe me, after that hour of torture.”

“You get an A for trying.”

He smiles falters as he watches you let out a deep breath. The smile on your face is gone, the sight letting him know his plan hasn't worked.

"Can you get up now?" You ask as your eyes follow the couples filing out.

A red 1964 Chevy Impala turns onto Rock Creek Avenue for the second time this Sunday morning. Windows rolled down, music playing low, it comes to a stop alongside the light blue fire hydrant marking the end of the street. Although its idling engine has been cut, the gear shift in park, its driver remains inside.

Dressed in a worn leather jacket, too hot for the already humid morning air, Leo releases the smoke in his lungs. He had committed the address to memory when Tommy had whispered it to him the morning before.

He stops to double-check the home’s number as he returns his cigarette to his lips.

1101 Rock Creek Avenue.

The house itself is nothing special. Apart from the sunflower yellow-painted door, it is nearly identical to the other single-story homes which line the street. A street that is strangely quiet for the hour.

The impala’s dash clock reads 11:35.

Leo leans across the console tugging the latch from the glovebox. Shifting the Ruger, which lays inside, he retrieves the folded newspaper. He pauses long enough to close the glovebox before settling back against his seat.

He stays that way, finishing off his slowly dwindling cigarette, scribbling on the paper in his hand.

The Saturday edition of the Daily Imperial Gazette has a newly noted license plate number written in its top-left corner. The crossword puzzle for the day, ninety percent complete.

Focused on the black and white squares before him, Leo lets out a breath.

An eleven-letter word for satisfaction?

“...vindication…” he mumbles, scribbling the answer into the boxes. His gaze shifts to the watch on his wrist.

12:01.

A shift in his peripheral causes Leo to direct his attention elsewhere.

The sunflower yellow door opens, a woman stepping out. She has a black BB-8 backpack slung over her left shoulder, the eye of the orange and white droid catching a glint of sunlight. Her long dark curls are pulled into a high ponytail. She wears a purple tie-dye sundress and white platform sneakers. She turns back to the door, smiling at the man who steps out after her.

Although Leo has never met Angel, he knows this is not him. The prospect patch stitched across the back of Ez’s kutte, the indicator he needs.

“I can’t wait to see you have some actual fun,” Isabela giggles as Ez stops before her.

Ez’s brow furrows, the corner of his lips turning up slightly, as he meets her playful gaze.

“You make it sound like I’m boring.”

“Uh-uh, don’t put that on me. I did not say boring, you did.” Isabela’s nose scrunches in concentration. Her smile widens as she settles on a more fitting word to describe the man before her. “You’re always so...serious.”

“Serious…” Ez echoes. He watches as Isabela bites her lip, suddenly wondering if her word choice was taken on the offense. As she opens her mouth to add an explanation, Ez shrugs. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m just saying, I think I’ve seen you crack a smile maybe once since you’ve been here,” Isabela adds. “You don’t laugh at any of my jokes--”

“Maybe they’re not funny.” Ez glances up from the sunglasses in his hands. He watches Isabela’s hand find her chest, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “Besides, I didn't realize you were trying to impress me.”

For once, in their time together, Ez is able to render Isabela speechless. The smile that brightens his features, causes Isabela’s eyes to roll as she steps around him.

“Wait, can we go back a second? Did Ezekiel Reyes actually crack a joke?”

“I do it from time to time.”

“Well, you should do it more often because you have a cute smile, Zeke,” she teases. “Can’t blame a girl from wanting to see it more often.”

Ez fails at stopping the smile on his lips from morphing into a grin as he slips his sunglasses over his eyes.

Isabela takes a step back inside. “Jeyson Iván Reyes! Let’s go!”

With Isabela no longer before him, Ez’s gaze passes over the street coming to a stop on the red Chevy Impala. Aside from being illegally parked, the car would catch the attention of any passerby. It’s not every day that one sees a vintage car, in pristine condition, riding through the streets of Santo Padre.

He steps forward, giving the car a closer look. But he looks away once he gets the look at the driver’s seat. A man focused solely on flipping through a copy of the Daily Imperial Gazette.

Leo lowers the newspaper slightly. His focus moves past an unsuspecting Ez to the little boy who bolts out the front door.

In his Lakers jersey, Jeyson Reyes is nearly a blur of purple and gold. His laughter drifts down the street as his uncle catches and lifts him into the air.

“Someone’s excited,” Isabela giggles as Ez lowers Jeyson back to his feet.

“I wanna try the bumper cars!” The grin on Jeyson’s face is wide. His entire body radiates with anticipation as he impatiently watches his uncle lock the door. “And the ride that spins you around really really fast so that you’re dizzy—and the mini golf!”

“Yeah?” Isabela’s fingers brush through Jeyson’s curls. Her playful eyes drift to Ez, the smile on her face grows as Jeyson follows her gaze. “I think you and I can beat Ez over here. What do you say, J?”

Ez’s brow arches, his eyes briefly meeting hers before moving to Jeyson’s.

“We can beat him. Easy.” The confidence in Jeyson’s voice is almost enough to break his uncle’s facade.

Ez’s eyes study both pairs of brown eyes focused on him, his head shaking softly.

“I don’t know,” he winces as he steps towards the car. “What are you willing to bet on it, J?”

For a moment, Jeyson is silent. An endless amount of possibilities rush through the eight-year-old’s mind. His round eyes widen as he settles on an answer.

“Funnel cake.”

“Good choice.” Ez squats down before Jeyson. He offers him his hand, pulling it back slightly once Jeyson reaches for it. His gaze lifts to Isabela, his resolve finally cracking, a smile slipping through. “You two can’t back out when I win.”

Folding the newspaper, Leo tosses it into the passenger seat as he watches the truck back out of the driveway. As the truck rolls to a halt, before the stop sign at the end of the street, the engine of the 1964 Chevy Impala rumbles to life.

“When can we go on the Ferris Wheel?” Jeyson groans, the impatient whine in his voice causes his uncle to smile.

“In a minute.” Ez ruffles Jeyson’s hair before reaching into his kutte for his vibrating phone. “We gotta wait for Isabela.”

“Where is she?” Jeyson pouts. Standing on his toes, he releases a huff once he doesn’t see her. “She’s been gone forever!”

In reality, it’s only been five minutes. But five minutes can seem like a lifetime to a kid waiting anxiously to continue his exploration of the carnival.

Two hours in, and Ez has learned that Jeyson doesn’t tire easily.

“I thought you wanted ice cream?” Ez chuckles, glancing over to watch Jeyson shake his head.

“Not anymore,” Jeyson sighs. “I want to go on the Ferris Wheel.”

“We will the second Isabela gets back. Okay?”

Despite the pout on his lips, Jeyson nods as he meets his uncle's gaze.

The text that holds Ez attention is from you. It is a question that has been on your mind for the past few days.

Zeke, need that brain of yours. PLEASE tell me you know of a club with a stallion patch?

Ez’s brow furrows as he reads over the message. He types the first thought that pops into his mind. Followed quickly by the second.

Horsemen.

Don’t know much about them. Prospect...limited information. Gotta ask Angel about that stuff. He was at the table Friday.

He glances up from his phone at the burst of laughter coming from a passing group of teenage girls. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he takes it forward once he realizes that the insistent voice of Jeyson is no longer there.

“Jeyson?” Ez’s brow furrows as his gaze passes over those closest to him.

He has no sight of Jeyson, his stomach dropping as he takes another step forward.

The second time he calls Jeyson’s name his voice is louder, a slight tremble slipping in.

Despite it being a Sunday afternoon, the carnival is packed. The Ferris Wheel is on the last round of its current cycle. This has ushered in a shift in the crowd. People are rushing to make it to the line, excited for a seat on the upcoming cycle.

“Jeyson?”

The cheers and music drown out Ez’s voice. Between the bodies pressing against him and the breath that seems harder to pass than the previous, Ez can't quite remember the way he’s just turned from.

The tightness in his chest causes him to stumble forward. The thought of finding Jeyson slips away with each painful squeeze of his heart. It becomes painfully loud, drowning out the same cheers and music that had blanketed his voice mere seconds before. He can’t focus. His mind is useless, unable to bridge the disconnect to the rest of his body.

No matter how hard he tries to get air, Ez chokes on each breath he takes. No amount of air that he swallows can be caught by his lungs. He is left breathless, his feet blindly searching for a break in the crowd. His vision is blurred, the images blurring as his focus scrambles.

Through the crowd, he catches sight of a disfigured BB-8 backpack.

“Thank you! Have a great day.” Isabela’s smile widens as she accepts the two ice cream cones from the vendor. She drops the change into the tip jar, carefully sidestepping the couple running past her.

She stops to take a lick of her ice cream, her eyes scanning the crowd. She starts to move forward, in the direction of the designated meet-up point. A tall green pole, that houses a baby blue flag at its top.

Through the break in the crowd, she catches sight of Ez’s kutte. Her steps slow once she realizes he’s bent over, the cones she holds slipping through her fingers.

Ez can’t hear his name on her lips, but he can feel the heat of her shaking hands as they cup his face. Her body shifts with his, as Ez’s back presses against the pole. His lightheadedness dragging his body to the ground.

Despite the trembling of her hands, Isabela’s voice is calm as she lowers herself to her knees before him.

“Ez--hey, look at me. I need you to breathe. Okay?” The softness of her voice lifts Ez’s gaze from his trembling hands. A smile finds her lips, the sight forcing him to take a breath. “Good. Here.”

Taking his left hand in his, Isabela gives it a gentle squeeze before moving to place it over her heart.

“It’s okay, you and I can do it together.” Isabela takes a deep steady breath, Ez’s hand rising and falling with the motion.

It takes a second breath for him to follow suit. The harsh intake of breath comes in slightly smoother than before. His right-hand finds her waist, his eyes drifting shut as he tries to push out another breath.

The grip on her hip is painfully tight, but Isabela remains in place. Resting her forehead against his, she continues to breathe, her fingers gently brush against his cheek. With each passing second, her heart slowly anchors his forcing it to match the steady rhythm beating against his palm.

“Shit--” Ez’s voice comes out hoarse, shaky as he opens his eyes. “I’m sorry--”

His body tips back. Isabela’s weight pressed against him as her arms wrap around his neck. The hug she gives is tight, causing Ez to blink.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I uh--I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Ez.” Isabela shakes her head, pulling back to get a look at Ez’s face.

The look of concern on her face drops Ez’s gaze to his hands. The slight tremble that remains causes him to clench his fist together.

He attempts to swallow the lump in his throat, but it remains. His voice comes out thick, as he shakes his head slightly.

“I haven’t had one of those in years,” he speaks quietly. “The first year in Stockton…”

Isabela nods, not needing him to finish the thought. Instead, she wraps her arms back around him. This time, Ez returns the hug, his face resting against the warmth of her neck briefly.

It’s not until she has him steady and on his feet that Isabela lets out a deep breath.

She looks around when a realization sets in.

“Where’s Jeyson?” The look on Ez’s face causes her to take a step sideways.

As she turns around, she stumbles forward nearly tripping over a grinning Jeyson.

“Oh my god--” Isabela lets out a deep breath, her hand finding her forehead as her eyes drift shut. “Jeyson, where did you go?”

Jeyson’s words come out muffled as he attempts to speak through a mouthful of hot dough.

“We went to get a funnel cake.”

“What?” Isabela’s eyes open.

Jeyson stands with a large plated funnel cake in hand. He wears a grin.

“You can have some,” he offers as Isabela brushes at the powered sugar dusting his cheek.

She blinks. “You don’t ever walk off without me or Ez. You don’t go with strangers, you know that--”

“He wasn’t a stranger.” Jeyson glances up from the piece of funnel cake in his hand. “He was daddy’s friend. He knew my name. He said it was a gift for doing good at my recital.”

His brown eyes widen as he takes in the look of confusion on Isabela’s face.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks. The possibility causes Jeyson’s smile to falter.

“No,” Isabela shakes her head, wrapping him in a hug. “You scared me, that’s all.”

You can learn a lot about a person from their home. Leo discovers all he needs about you the moment he enters yours.

Your son is the center of your universe.

Leo stands in your living room, his eyes passing over the incomplete Millennium Falcon set in the middle of the floor. Overstepping the abandoned legos, he moves closer for a better look at the photos hanging on the wall.

Jeyson is in nearly every photo. Spanning from baby photos, holiday shots, candid moments of fun, to yearbook photos, they allow Jeyson to grow up before Leo’s eyes.

He pauses at the latest hung photo.

Taken in September, it shows Jeyson standing between you and his father. The smile he wears matches Angel’s to the tee. It was taken on the first day of third grade. Jeyson is wearing his Gilman Prep uniform.

Leo lifts his phone, delaying long enough to snap a photo before moving on.

He starts his trek through the house. Sifting through recently delivered mail, abandoned on the kitchen counter. The piano holding the sheet music for Jeyson's recently passed recital. Studying the neatly printed schedule written across the whiteboard on the refrigerator door. The fully stocked bookshelf in Jeyson’s bedroom. The password-protected laptop on the desk of your office. The gun safe in your bedroom closet.

As he returns the closet door to its original position, his eyes pass over the room. They land on the dresser. The wooden, hand-carved jewelry box is smaller than he would anticipate from a woman. The first item to catch his attention is the oval cut diamond of your engagement ring, paired with the matching wedding band. He lifts both, pausing to study them in the sunlight peeking through the bedroom window. Returning them to their original resting place, he lifts the tiny velvet red box nearby. Inside, he finds a pearl necklace.

The necklace itself is simple. A single pearl embellished with a small, round white stone. It is a necklace you rarely take off. It was gifted to you years ago at a high school graduation dinner by Marisol.

Closing the box, Leo pockets it before leaving. The only sign he was ever there is the unlocked front door. It gives Ez a brief moment of a pause upon his return. He’s almost certain he locked it when they left. But with the high-speed rate Jeyson is talking at the moment, he chalks it up to his mind spacing.

series taglist: @angelreyesgirl89 @holl2712 @relaxing-najee @thedeviltohisangel @awkwardtayler @siempremamita @amorestevens @witching-hour @seize-the-droid @rosieposie0624 @sesamepancakes @est1887 @queenbeered @ticosas @blessedboo @helli4nthus @katjusja @melanicia @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @moneteguiza

mayans taglist: @lilacyennefer @pedropcl @holl2712 @rae-gar-targaryen @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @henrycavill19 @silverstarsandsuns @chellybear98 @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @noz4a2 @wiccanmetallicrose @crxssourbones @kimljn @starrynite7114 @richonne4life @themarkblues @mariaxliliana @thelovelyleo23 @hail-horror-queen @gemini0410 @binooo98 @the-jer-bear @abbiesthings @losolvidad0s @helli4nthus @babaohhhriley @futureleo1678 @whatupitshuff @trhett21 @trulysuccubus @minnicelli @sillygoose6969 @capnsaveahoe @leahnicole1219 @crashbarbie @cyka1312 @zoovent @lakamaa12 @keithseabrook27 @vir-tually @awkwardtayler @rawrlittlepanda-95 @irenne-stans @pearlkitten33 @ezs-baby-angels-whore @sesamepancakes @toni9 @vannabanana1995 @queenbeered @shawty-fenty @kaystacks17 @thesandbeneathmytoes @anactualcaseofthetruth @star017 @cant-decide-at-this-moment @cocotheclown @watsonwise @ilovebey2018 @oscars-wifeyyy @rosieposie0624 @jennisdirtyimagines @ughdontbeboring @jjwriter23 @briskywalker @peoniarose @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @partypoison00 @making-starsdance @claytoncardenasbabymama @myakai13

#let me know what you think?#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #lover of mine #mayans mc fic

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defiblover27 · 3 years ago

Text

Old Friends

Sorry that I have been gone for so long. Finally back to writing again. If you ever have any ideas for a story my DMs are always open. Enjoy!

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Bek is a 37 year old female with blonde hair that falls to her shoulders. She is slightly on the heavier side with and stands at just five foot three. Bek and one of her closest friends Ryan have decided to meet up at her house after they have both been busy with their professional careers and have not had the time to sit down and catch up in quite a while. Bek puts on her jeans and a shirt and then finally pulls a hoodie on over top while she waits around for Ryan to arrive before he has to go into work later in the morning. After Ryan arrives the two sit in the living room and start chatting about their current lives and reminisce the good old days of growing up together. The chatter quickly develops and they sit and laugh together as they recall some embarrassing stories that they experienced together. "I can't believe that we really did that.... Would you care for a cup of coffee before you have to leave?" Bek asks. "That would be great" Ryan responds. Bek gets up from the couch and heads into the kitchen just a few feet away. After picking up the coffee pot she turns to the walk to the sink to get some water when she suddenly feels very light headed and her tongue starts to tingle. Before she can do anything her vision goes dark. There is an audible thud and the shatter of the glass coffee pot is heard in the living room as Ryan jumps up from his seat. "You okay in there Bek?" as he turns the corner he sees the glass shards across the floor and Bek lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. "Oh my god Bek" he quickly rushes over and kneels down beside her. He shakes her shoulders to get a response and after a few shakes Bek lets out a sigh as she begins to regain consciousness. "What... what happened?" Bek asks shakily as she attempts to sit up. "You must have passed out has this happened before recently?" Ryan asks as he helps her up into a seated position. "No nothing at all, I've felt a little under the weather since this morning but besides that nothing." Bek responds as she slowly picks herself off the floor into a standing position. "I'm calling an ambulance" Ryan states as he heads back into the living room to get his phone. "No I'm fine really" Bek pleads but Ryan is already gone and dialing 911. Bek hobbles over to a bench in the kitchen by the table as she leans up against it. She can hear Ryan in the other room talking to the emergency dispatcher. She still feels lightheaded and a little woozy but brushes it off without another thought. Ryan reenters the room and stays by Bek and explains that the ambulance is on the way. After a few minutes the EMT's arrive at Bek's house and Ryan lets them in and leads them to where Bek is leaning up against the bench in the kitchen. They set down their bags and ask a few initial questions. After checking her vitals they explain to Ryan that she should be okay but they want to transport her to the hospital just in case. Bek tells Ryan to go to work and that she will call him later. The paramedics get his contact information before he leaves and he tells her to make sure to call him later. Ryan leaves the house and heads to work even though he is still worried about Bek. Jayden, one of the paramedics, asks his coworker Alex to go to the ambulance and grab the gurney since she is having trouble walking. Alex leaves the room while Jayden stays behind with Bek. "My... my chest... it..." Bek collapses to the ground for a second time. Jayden catches her as she collapses and lays her gently on the floor. He feels for a pulse and breathing. Finding none he quickly places his gloved hands between her breasts and begins CPR. He felt as each compression caused her chest to cave in and return to its position each time. After giving thirty aggressive compressions he tilted her head back, sealed his lips over her mouth, pinched her nose, and delivered a breath. He gave two full breaths into her still lungs causing her chest to rise and fall with each one. He did another round of thirty compressions as he felt a few ribs pop out of place due to

the force of the compressions. Again he gave two breaths as Alex returns with the gurney to see their patient unconscious on the floor. "What happened?" Alex asked quickly as he grabbed the heart monitor and AED from the gurney. "She went into full cardiac arrest, I've done two rounds of CPR and still no response. Alex grabbed some shears from his pocket and cut away Bek's hoodie, shirt, and bra causing her breasts to fall to the side. Jayden placed his hands between between her exposed chest and continued CPR. "We need to attempt to stabilize her before transport." Jayden announced. Alex grabbed an orange ambu bag from the O2 bag and sealed it over Bek's face. After every thirty compressions Alex squeezed the ambu bag twice to inflate her lungs. While Jayden was performing CPR Alex also attached the electrodes and AED pads to Bek's bare chest. The monitor whined to life as the line bounced up and down in v-fib. The AED charged to 200 joules as the paramedics backed away. The shock button was pushed and Bek jerked on her kitchen floor as the electricity coursed through her dying body. With no response Alex took over CPR as the AED charged to 300 in preparation of a second shock. Alex used the full weight of his body to compress Bek's chest as he felt a few of her ribs break under him. The AED announced that it was charged as they backed away and pressed the shock button. Again Bek jerked on the floor before relaxing again. "Still no response, lets give one more shock and then transport regardless." Jayden announced. Alex was already giving Bek CPR and simply shook his head in agreement. The AED was charged the 360 as CPR continued on Bek's dying body. They backed away once more as the AED was charged and shocked her again. This time the increased voltage caused Bek's chest to rise slightly off the kitchen floor before crashing back down causing her breasts to shake. "Asystole, lets roll out hopefully the ER can do something else to help her" They rolled her over before placing her on a backboard and loading Bek and all of their equipment into the ambulance and sped away. Alex hopped into the drivers seat and flipped on the lights and sirens as he attempted to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Meanwhile Jayden was in the back of the ambulance compressing Bek's chest which now had a grayish look to it as her body began to shut down. The first few minutes of the ride were uneventful as Bek remained in asystole while her chest was being pounded away on. After pushing another round of cardiac drugs into the IV Jayden was able to force Bek's heart into v-fib as the AED was charged to 360 again. The shock caused Bek to jerk violently on the gurney before going still again. There was no change in rhythm so the AED was charged again as Jayden quickly tilted her head back and slid a metal blade into her mouth and down her throat slightly. He then passed a 8.0 ET tube down her airway and secured it with a blue holder. Attaching the ambu bag he gave a couple ventilations as he placed his stethoscope onto her cold and clammy chest to ensure it was placed properly. He was able to get it right on the first time so he dropped the bag so it laid against her face and pressed the shock button again. Bek's feet jumped off the gurney slightly and clenched up showing off the wrinkles of her small feet. Jayden began to lose hope of saving Bek as the monitor went flat once again as she went into asystole once again. Jayden pounded away at her chest as a purple bruise began to form in-between her breasts from all of the aggressive CPR. Her complexion started to fade and her lips turned to a bluish purple as her body was shutting down. She was now cool to the touch other than the center of her chest where Jayden's warm gloved hands have been so often. Each compression forced her breasts to shake violently as her chest was caved in rhythmically. He pushed another round of drugs into her dying body and gave to quick squeezes of the bag hanging out of her mouth before continuing CPR. He lost track

of how many cycles he has done so far or how long she had been down. All he knew is that he wouldn't stop until he got her heart beating again.

As they arrived at the ER Bek was still under intense CPR as her chest caved in rhythmically. They rolled her out of the ambulance as Jayden straddled the gurney. His hips placed directly on hers as his body hovered over hers as he continued aggressive compressions. Alex picked up the ambu bag laying on the gurney and gave a few squeezes every few seconds in attempt to give her much needed air. They took her directly into the trauma room as Alex gave the report. Jayden hopped off of the gurney and helped transfer Bek to the bed. They rolled her to her side and slipped the backboard out replacing it with a CPR board to get her chest in the correct position. Her nude body now laid dying on the bed as a nurse took over CPR. Jayden backed away slightly trying to catch his breath from all of the CPR that he had just performed. They placed another IV port and gave Bek her next dose of epi and continued CPR. The monitors beeped in tune with each compression that she received as her body shook around from the force. The attending doctor took out his pen light and checked her pupils. They were sluggish but reactive meaning that she still had a chance at coming back. They had no time to waste before it would be too late though. A day that went from hanging out with an old friend turned into a day where a team of medical professionals did everything they could to bring her back to life. The monitors began to bounce erratically as Bek converted into Vfib once again. The paddles were taken off of the crash cart, a large amount of gel was placed on one of the paddles as they were rubbed together, placed on her bare chest, and discharged. The shock caused Bek to flop on the bed and after the shock there was no change. CPR was resumed as the paddles were charged again to 360. In a moments notice the cold metal paddles were back on her skin as she was shocked again. This time her arms flailed to the sides and her feet scrunched up and relaxed again. Bek still did not convert so another nurse centered their hands between her large breasts as the paddles charged again.

Jayden was near the nurses station as soon as they left the room and called Ryan. "Hello is this Ryan?" Jayden asked. "Bek is not doing very well and I think that its important for you to get to the hospital as soon as possible. You are the closest thing to family that she has." He hung up the phone and looked into the trauma room as he watched the resuscitation continue. A few minutes later Ryan busted into the ER and ran toward Jayden. Jayden had to catch Ryan in his arms before he could burst into the trauma room. "What the hell is going on? She seemed okay when I left. I should have stayed with her." Ryan frantically pleaded. "She went into cardiac arrest shortly after you left. We have been doing everything that we can for her. She is in good hands." Jayden responded. Ryan could barely see into the trauma room but was able to see as everyone backed away and then as her body shook around on the bed. He fell to the floor as Jayden caught him and tried to console him.

"Asystole doctor" the nurse in charge of ventilations announced. "Push another round of epi and continue CPR please." he replied. The team worked in silence as they continued resuscitating Bek but they all knew that she was inching closer and closer to death. After three minutes at her 40 minute mark of her code the doctor asked "is there any family here?". A nurse informed him of the situation and he asked that Ryan be brought into the room. Ryan could barely hold his own weight as Jayden guided him into the room. "I'm the attending here and have been in charge of Bek's case. She was brought into the ER 20 minutes ago in full cardiac arrest. Her heart hasn't been beating for over 40 minutes. We have given her all of the drugs that we can and have done everything in our power. I am going to check for any signs of life again. Come on over and hold her hand." The two of them approached Bek as Ryan placed her hand in his. He could feel how could it was. "Stop CPR and check for pulses." The team backed away as they checked her carotid, and femoral pulses. The attending checked her pupils for the last time and found that they were fixed and dilated. "Time of Death 10:46am. I'm very sorry." The doctor announced. He left Ryan and a few nurses in the room as they started post mortem care. The disconnected the ambu bag, leads, wiped the gel off her chest, hung a toe tag on her right foot, and finally draped a white sheet over her nude body. Jayden stayed in the room with Ryan until she was taken down to the hospital morgue. Her autopsy found that she had suffered a massive heart attack.

#cpr #resus #resuscitation #defib #defibrillator

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kudzushadow · 3 years ago

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There for You | Part 1 of 3 | A Harlivy Fanfiction

Summary: After Harley finds Ivy in tears on the floor of the bathroom, realization dawns on her about how hard the past year had been on Ivy, from literally dying (1x12) to mind control. (2x12) They have a heartfelt conversation about the events leading up to the moment, and learn that sometimes it's ok to confide in the ones you care for. (Based on the scene from Eat Bang! Kill Tour: Issue #1)

Hurt/Comfort | TW: Past trauma mentions, slight hints of past abuse. | Spoilers for Harley Quinn: The Animated Series & Eat Bang! Kill Tour: Issue #1

See bottom for extra notes!

"...Ive?" Harley's eyes widened as she rounded a corner and was greeted with a sight that made her heart ache.

Ivy sat on the bathroom floor, head buried in her hands as her whole body shook with sobs.

Harley was immediately kneeling by her side, arms wrapping protectively around her girlfriend without a second of hesitation. "Shh. It's alright, Ive. Everything's going to be ok…" Ivy had been acting strange since the wedding, but she hadn't been willing to open up to Harley. Now Harley was beyond worried, it was clearly more serious than the redhead had been letting on.

Ivy immediately relaxed into the blonde, tucking her face into Harley's chest. Eventually her sobs quieted down, but Harley could feel her trembling as she held her. While she tried to figure out what to say, she rubbed Ivy’s back comfortingly.

After a couple moments of silence, after holding Ivy, feeling her tremble, listening to her uneven breathing… seeing her tear stained cheeks… realization began to dawn on Harley. God, she was so stupid and oblivious! She’d been so focused on her own feelings, she hadn’t even begun to consider Ivy’s… and how hard it must’ve been, being stuck in the middle of everything.

“Ivy… I'm sorry. I’m so sorry… I’ve been so caught up in my own feelings, I hadn’t given any thought to how heavy all of this must weigh on you…” She brushed a strand of hair from Ivy’s face before continuing. “You’ve been through so much this past year, and I’ve been a pretty shitty friend. I should’ve been there for you, I should’ve helped you, should’ve protected you… and if I could go back in time and do it all differently, I would. A thousand times over.”

“...but I can’t, and that’s something I’ll regret as long as I live. Yet you’ve always been there for me, even when I created huge messes… when I joined the Legion of Doom, when I went back to Joker, when I released an army of parademons, when the Injustice League froze me… god, that last one sucked. Yet you rescued me. You always rescue me, Ive. Always help me. Always take care of me, even though I’m not sure I deserve it most of the time…” Harley looked away, shutting her eyes for a moment before forcing herself to continue. “...Ivy, you don’t have to pretend to be strong in front of me. You’re hurting… and that’s ok. We all hurt sometimes, but that doesn’t make us weak… or… or less human. I’m here now though. I want to share that burden with you, if you’ll let me.” Harley looked back at Ivy, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I love you, Ive. I love you so much… and if you ever… yknow, want to talk about… well, anything at all, really… I just want you to know I’m here.”

Ivy turned her head away, and the next few minutes passed slowly in silence. Harley held Ivy, didn’t once let go, but with each passing second she became increasingly worried she’d done something wrong. Was it something she’d said? Oh god, had she made it worse?

“Ive, I didn’t mean-”

“Harley.” Ivy pulled away slightly, raising her head so she could meet Harley’s wide blue eyes. “I-” She paused, choking back a sob. “I hurt you, I hurt Chuck… I hurt so many people… all because I didn’t know what I wanted then… and to be honest, I’m not sure what I want now, either…”

Harley’s heart dropped, and she opened her mouth to respond before Ivy cut her off.

“-...but Harley… so much has happened. You’ve made mistakes, I’ve made mistakes… and you’re trying to change… that’s good, and I’m proud of you… but you're right, we can’t change the past, no matter how hard we try.” Ivy shut her eyes, letting out a shaky exhale before continuing. “Opening up… relationships… hell, just being around other people is… is hard for me… but you showed me the good in humanity. That not all humans are… are monsters. My life before I met you… was… lonely. Even with all my plants, I had nobody to talk to. Nobody to confide in… but I liked it that way. It was safe. Nobody was going to judge me, or… or abandon me... and I guess that’s why I… why I chose Chuck… because he was the safer option.”

I trust you, with my life… but I don’t trust you with my heart.

Harley winced inwardly, but she understood where Ivy was coming from. Harley definitely didn’t have the best track record with… well, anything really.

So I… I’m marrying Kiteman.

“I was… I was scared. Scared that if I… if I went with what my heart was telling me, it was just going to get broken… and after everything, I just… I couldn’t stand the idea of that happening. Of losing you again…” Ivy trailed off, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

You were my one friend, and I asked you for one favor, but instead you ditched me for the Joker, who treats you like shit!

“Ivy… I had no idea you felt that way.” Harley spoke softly, using her free hand to lift Ivy’s chin so she could look into those beautiful green eyes… eyes whose depths she often found herself lost in. “I… didn’t know what I really wanted then. It was like… like I was trying to fill a hole inside me… like part of me was missing… and then, that night at the pit…” She smiled, using her thumb to brush a tear from Ivy’s cheek. “That was one of the most amazing nights of my life. I hadn’t realized… I hadn’t realized what it felt like to have someone else care about you. To have someone love you. Joker definitely never cared about me… not in the way you do… and... y'know, maybe I didn’t deserve it. Like I said, I haven’t always been the most reliable… but that changes today… if you’ll give me a shot, that is…”

Ivy looked up at Harley as she brushed the tear away, and smiled sadly. “...You’re trying to change… and that’s what matters. Harls, I do love you. A lot…. More than I care to admit… and… this whole relationship thing is new to me, but… I’m… I’m willing to give it a shot. To give you a shot… and today… today was proof of how much you’ve changed. How much you’re willing to sacrifice for others…” Ivy rested her head on Harley’s shoulder, but her mind was clearly wandering.

“...but that’s not all that’s troubling you, is it?”

“...perceptive as always.” Ivy chuckled halfheartedly, then looked away again. “It’s… it’s fine. It’s nothing important…”

“Well, I am a psychiatrist… but seriously Ive, you can tell me anything.” Harley stroked her cheek. “You know that.”

“Harley, I really don’t want to talk about it… can we just… can you help me out of this dress?”

“...yeah. Sure thing.” Harley stood up before reaching out a hand to help Ivy up. She definitely wasn’t going to let this drop that easily, but Ivy clearly didn’t want to talk anymore right now… so instead Harley busied herself with the zipper of Ivy’s wedding dress and the sights underneath.

- End of part 1 -

I think all of it copied and pasted? If it looks like anything is missing please lmk!

This... this is what quarantine, lack of sleep, and having covid does to you. Helps you get over writers block. This is my first work I've gone public with, and originally I wasn't going to post it but a friend gave me the confidence to share it! So... here it is, I guess?

I was going to post it on Archives of Our Own too, but I have to wait till the 14th to get an account. 😐

Comments mean the world, even if it's just a couple words. I'll even take criticism to heart! By commenting you all can let me know what you think, and if you want to see the other parts...

Any interaction is appreciated, and my inbox and dms are always open! Thank you, and have a great day! (Or night!)

#harlivy #harley quinn #poison ivy #harleen quinzel #pamela isley #harley quinn animated series #eat bang kill tour #harlivy fanfiction

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago

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holly's august extravaganza day 26: slowly becoming lovers

for sonia (@pragmaticoptimist34)! i have to confess something - i got so caught up in writing this that i actually forgot to include either of the other two prompts you sent me 🙈 i hope you like it anyway!

second confession - it was supposed to be longer and then it kind of got away from me so i had to draw a line somewhere oops

thanks to @ravens-words, @cosmiicmalex, @halsteadmarchs and liz (sorry, i don't know your tumblr!) for enabling me and to @noxsoulmate for beta'ing!

ao3 | 2.9k | falling in love, fluff, tiny, tiny hint of hurt/comfort, soft tarlos, set between s1 and s2

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

i. food preferences

“You have to be joking.”

“It tastes like soap, Carlos!”

Carlos groans and drops his head into his hands, shaking his head at this latest revelation from his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who has just made his life—or at least his cooking—a hell of a lot more complicated. “My mamá would have a fit if she could hear you now.”

He almost regrets the words as TK’s eyes alight with interest; he’s been dancing around the topic of his parents for a while now, but it’s not like he can deny what he said. His mom would be having a fit, or possibly attempting to kill TK with a wooden spoon, if she found out that Carlos’s boyfriend was not only a gringo, but one who hates coriander.

“I swear, you won’t even taste it when it’s mixed into the food,” he tries, because coriander is a staple of his cooking, and he can’t even fathom not using it.

But TK just levels him with a firm look. “Yes, I will, Carlos. I’ll always taste it.”

Carlos rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s theatrics, but sighs, relenting. “Fine. I suppose I can—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, as TK throws his arms around him and plants a noisy kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, grinning cheekily.

“Yeah, yeah,” Carlos grumbles, but he can’t help but smile.

There’s very little, he’s finding, that he wouldn’t do for TK.

ii. nicknames

It slips out by accident one day.

“TK,” Carlos groans, followed by a gasp as TK moves just right, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine. “TK, Ty—”

TK instantly freezes on top of him and Carlos’s eyes open, concern rising in him as he takes in the pensive look on his boyfriend’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” TK shakes his head and forces a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m good, I promise.” He ducks down to kiss Carlos again, but the mood is all wrong, and Carlos gently pushes him back, raising an eyebrow. TK holds out a moment longer, then sighs and rolls away, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid.”

Carlos tuts, reaching over to brush a hand through TK’s hair. “Bet you $20 it’s not.”

“Hope you have $20 then, Reyes,” TK says wryly. He looks over at Carlos and sighs again, biting his lip. “It’s just… You called me Ty.”

“Oh.” Carlos’s eyes widen and he props himself up on an elbow. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking; it won’t happen again—”

TK presses a finger against his lips, cutting him off abruptly. He smiles softly, then removes his finger and caresses Carlos’s cheek. “It’s okay,” he says. “More than okay, actually. I… I’ve always hated my name, but, I don’t know, I guess it sounded right? Like, when you said it? I think I’d kill anyone else who tried, but I really liked it coming from you.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that because—”

Carlos is again cut off, this time by TK’s lips on his. TK moves so that he’s straddling Carlos again, hands pressed against his chest. “I’m sure,” he whispers, a grin playing at his mouth. “Now, weren’t we in the middle of something?”

iii. religion

Christmas sneaks up on him that year. Between helping the city recovering from the solar storm, work in general, the pandemic, and building his relationship with TK, Carlos has completely lost track of the months, until it’s a week before the date and he has nothing planned.

Really, it’s never been a big deal for him; he and his family used to attend mass and make an event out of it when he was a kid, but now he’s an adult, he’s often working, and he hasn’t been to church regularly since he was a teenager. But this year is different. This year, he’ll be spending it with TK, their first Christmas together, and he wants to make it special.

But he’s left it too late—nothing he orders online will arrive in time, the shops are becoming a nightmare, and he honestly has no clue where to even start. So Carlos resigns himself to another quiet Christmas, frustration and disappointment welling in him at the thought of telling his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out one night over dinner, the thought having been gnawing at him for days.

TK raises a brow. “For?”

“Christmas,” Carlos sighs, looking down into his stew. “It’s our first one together and I had all these plans, and then I just sort of… I didn’t forget! But things have been so crazy, and—”

He’s cut off when TK lays a hand on his. When Carlos looks up at him, TK seems to be fighting back laughter, which is confusing at best and potentially mildly insulting at worst.

“Babe,” TK says, grinning, “it’s okay. You might not believe me, but I forgot too. Christmas wasn’t really a thing growing up—my mom’s Jewish, so I used to celebrate Hanukkah on the years I stayed with her, and Dad was working more often than not. I don’t care, I promise.”

Carlos blinks. “You’re Jewish?” Surely he would know if… But they’ve never discussed religion before, and Carlos had kind of assumed TK had the same ideals as him about the church. In hindsight that was stupid and presumptuous, and Carlos can’t quite believe he’d do something like that. An apology is on the tip of his tongue, but TK just shrugs, going back to his stew.

“Half,” he says. “I don’t really practice anymore but I still keep the beliefs with me, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

TK smiles at him, and Carlos suddenly realises that this holiday season will be special after all, even if they don’t celebrate anything. Because he’s with TK, which is the most special thing in the world.

iv. how they sleep

Carlos has been sleeping alone for a long time. He’s had a couple of short-term boyfriends and the odd hook-up here and there, but he’s never had someone else in his bed regularly—certainly not regularly enough to get used to it.

TK was hesitant at first to stay over, but once he started to be more comfortable, it was almost a given that they’d be sleeping together whenever their shifts allowed.

And it had been an adjustment.

TK had warned him he tended to move around and be clingy in his sleep, but Carlos hadn’t quite understood what that meant, until now. He is, essentially, trapped under TK, his arms pinned to his sides and one leg thrown over his hip. TK’s head is pillowed on Carlos’s shoulder and his breath is fanning in soft puffs over his skin.

The only way he can move is if he wakes TK up, and there’s no way Carlos is going to do that. His boyfriend looks so peaceful, and Carlos is more than happy to be clung onto like a koala to a branch if it keeps that expression on his face.

In fact, he thinks he can get used to this very easily.

v. pda

In private, their days are filled with gentle touches and stolen kisses. Carlos will be cooking breakfast and TK will slip his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck. TK will be doing one chore or another and Carlos will brush a hand over his back or gently nudge him as he walks past.

But in public, it’s a whole other story.

It’s almost reflexive, the way TK reaches for Carlos’s hand as they’re walking down the street. It’s something they do all the time at home, and even with their friends, but this time, Carlos immediately tenses, seemingly automatically pulling his hand away.

“You okay?” he asks, frowning.

Carlos takes a deep breath, then obviously plasters on a smile, retaking TK’s hand—and TK can feel the tension in the gesture. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” TK gently lets go of Carlos and smiles reassuringly up at him. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with touching in public.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. This is all on me; I should have asked.”

“But—”

“But, nothing.” He carefully bumps their soldiers together. “You’re entitled to your boundaries, I’m just sorry for overstepping. Tell me next time, please?”

Carlos hesitates, but nods, a gentle press of their arms a silent acknowledgment of agreement and understanding.

vi. scars

Carlos, TK has noticed, likes to pay extra attention to his bullet scar. Whether it’s pressing a gentle kiss over it when they’re in bed, or brushing it with his fingers when wrapping an arm around him, it happens too often for TK to believe it’s anything but intentional.

He doesn’t understand it at first.

Then he discovers Carlos’s own scars.

“What’s this?” he asks, tracing over the thick raised scarring on Carlos’s side. It stretches along the curve of his waist and round his back, and TK has no idea how he hasn’t noticed it before.

Carlos cranes his neck, letting out a hum when he sees what TK’s looking at. His head flops back down on the pillow and he closes his eyes, absently stroking up and down TK’s sides.

“It was...three years ago, maybe?” he says. “I got stabbed on a call. They told me it was pretty touch-and-go for a while, but they fixed me up and I was back at work in a month.”

His eyes are still closed, body completely relaxed, but TK can’t take his eyes off the scar. He reaches up to his own scar, and he gets it.

Carlos’s eyes crack open. “TK?”

“I’m good,” TK murmurs. He breaks his gaze from Carlos’s abdomen and smiles at him. “We both are.”

And if, after that day, Carlos notices him paying more attention to that scar, he doesn’t say anything.

vii. penguin or panda

“You’re out of your mind!”

In Carlos’s defence, a zoo date had seemed like a good idea. He knows TK loves animals, and he himself grew up around them, so in theory, a trip to Austin Zoo should have been the perfect time to get to know each other better while enjoying the day.

Turns out, TK has some very strong opinions on animals, and is willing to budge for absolutely no-one.

“I can’t believe you think penguins are cuter than pandas! I mean, look at them, Carlos!” He gestures emphatically to the panda enclosure, where one is napping on a log. It’s pretty cute, Carlos has to admit, but…

He shrugs. “But remember when the penguins were all huddling together?”

TK makes a noise of outrage, and Carlos has to laugh, then some more at the wounded pout he gets for it. “Is this really a thing for you?” he asks. “Like, is this going to be the dealbreaker for us?”

TK folds his arms and levels him with a stern look. “That depends,” he says. “Meerkats or koalas?”

And, just because he knows it will rile TK up more, Carlos grins and answers, “Meerkats.”

(They don’t break-up over it, but Carlos isn’t so sure that TK will be forgiving him any time soon.)

viii. special interests

“Say you could go back to a moment in history, but only once,” TK says, out of the blue, breaking the comfortable silence of the front room. Carlos stops carding his fingers through TK’s hair and looks down at him, curious. “Where would you go?”

Carlos opens his mouth, but TK doesn’t give him a second to answer. “Is it cliché if I said I’d go to Stonewall? I mean, I’d really like to see dinosaurs in the flesh, or—oh! I was, like, obsessed with pirates as a kid; I thought they were the coolest things ever, and I pretty much idolised Anne Bonny. But I’m pretty sure I’d die immediately if I went to either of those places, so…”

He trails off, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m boring you.”

“No!” Carlos rushes to say. “No, you’re not. I love history, I just… What makes you ask?”

“It’s something we got into at the station earlier. Mateo brought it up first, I think?”

Carlos hums, pursing his lips in thought. “I guess…” He sighs and shakes his head. “It’s too hard. There’s so many places I’d want to go and people I’d want to meet.”

“But if you had to pick?” TK pushes, sitting upright and looking at Carlos with interest.

“I really want to meet Eleanor of Aquitaine, but if I could only go to one place…” He hesitates and thinks it over some more, but then his eyes catch on the masks hanging along the stairway, and he’s sure. “Tenochtitlan, but before Cortés arrived. It was a whole society, and I just think it would be so cool to see it up close and to know what it was like first-hand. I mean, I’ve read a lot of books, but we don’t have much from the Mexica people, a lot is from the conquerors, and—”

Carlos stops and huffs a laugh. “Now I’m the one boring you,” he says, but TK shakes his head, eyes bright.

“Tell me more.”

ix. coffee order

TK accepts the coffee without even thinking about it, even taking a sip before he realises he never told Carlos what his order was. He curses himself but resolves to drink it anyway; TK isn’t too much of a coffee snob, and he’s certainly not going to reject anything his boyfriend brings him.

He takes a second sip, and he’s so caught up in making a mental note to tell Carlos next time that it takes a minute for the taste to register. And…

It’s his order.

He looks sharply up at Carlos, who is smiling into his own coffee—therefore dispelling any notion of this being an insanely good guess. “How did you know?” he asks, bewildered.

The tips of Carlos’s ears turn pink, but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he looks up at TK. “Our first real date,” he says. “You mentioned that this was your go-to order.”

And TK can’t do anything but stare, because their first date was weeks ago, and Carlos still remembered, and it’s just…

He thinks—no, he knows—he’s falling in love.

x. fears

“Weirdest fears, go.”

TK has to laugh at the perplexed look Carlos sends him at the question, the straw of his boba hanging out of his mouth. Now that they’ve figured a sort of rhythm out between them, they decided to try the boba place again—there have been no emergencies or disasters so far, so TK is counting it as a win.

“Come on,” he continues. “Last time we were here, you said we barely knew each other—which was true—so now we’re going to fix it.”

Carlos’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “By telling each other our weirdest fears?”

“Exactly!” TK grins. “I’ll go first if you’re too chicken. Mine is slicing my hands open or cutting some fingers off with ice skates.”

“What?” Carlos breathes, disbelief all over his face. “I’ve never been ice skating but I’m pretty sure your hands aren’t supposed to go anywhere near the blades.”

“I didn’t say it was rational.” TK sips his boba, raising an eyebrow at Carlos. “Your turn.”

Carlos swallows, suddenly very interested in the table. “I, uh. When I was a kid, my Tía Lucy had a snake get into her pipes. She only discovered it when she went to the toilet one morning and it was just...sitting there in the bowl. I was terrified for years that the same would happen to us, and it’s kind of become a reflex to check.”

“Oh my god.” TK can’t help but burst out laughing, even though he feels bad for it as Carlos covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I know it’s a real thing for you, I just…”

But Carlos’s shoulders are shaking too and, bizarrely, TK really does feel closer to him now.

It’s a good feeling.

xi. long-term commitments

Carlos is surprised when TK is the one to bring it up first.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asks one day, head in Carlos’s lap, staring up at the ceiling.

Carlos pauses the show he’s technically supposed to be watching and quirks an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “Sure,” he says. “What about the future exactly?”

TK hesitates, and his voice comes out a lot quieter when he next speaks. “Like…” He sighs, a small flush rising on his cheeks. “The future. Our future. Us. Maybe...marriage, or…”

He trails off, practically whispering by the end of it. His gaze has shifted from the ceiling to the frozen TV screen and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, body stiff with tension. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Forget about it.”

But Carlos is learning to read TK, and he knows he was looking for reassurance. “I mean, yeah,” he says. “I think about it. Do you?”

TK stares up at him, wonder in his eyes. “After New York, I thought… But yeah. Yeah, I do.”

They share a smile as they lock eyes, and Carlos knows that they’re on the same page here. That, distant though they may be, both of them can hear wedding bells in their future.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #911ls #lone star #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #holly's august extravaganza #pragmaticoptimist34

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asweetprologue · 4 years ago

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me lámh le do lámh - Part IV

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

They spent a few days in Oxenfurt, mostly for Jaskier’s benefit. The bard hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t prepared to head out. There was packing to be done, his rooms to see to, appointments to cancel with the university. Geralt was happy enough to wait. It wasn’t strictly a hardship to spend some time lounging in Jaskier’s rooms and wandering the university gardens during the day before following Jaskier to whatever tavern or hall he was to play at for the evening. Jaskier was away for the better part of most days, but Geralt moved his things to Jaskier’s rooms after the first night at the inn. Waking well before Jaskier in the same bed, he was greeted each morning to Jaskier’s arm slung across his chest, warm and comfortable in the predawn silence. His cheeks would be ruddy with sleep and their shared heat under the blankets, his hair flattened awkwardly to his skull where it had been pressed to the pillow.

He’d missed this. After months without Jaskier’s presence, it felt like he was drowning in it, shocked by the strength of his own reaction. With the golden light of the morning sun shining through Jaskier’s one window to fall softly across his brow and pick out the silver strands in his hair, Geralt wondered at how he could have ever misplaced this feeling in his chest. He loved him. He wanted to preserve each moment in fine amber, never to fade.

But finally Jaskier was finished making his arrangements, and they were able to set out from Oxenfurt towards their first destination. It would take them several weeks to collect the components that Ida had mentioned—weeks that Geralt would have to spend dancing around the subject of the ritual and its origins, as well as his traitorous heart. As he caught Jaskier’s bright smile from up ahead as they crossed the Oxenfurt bridge, he hoped that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

“So where, exactly, are these mysterious elven ruins?”

Geralt grunted, both in answer and in exertion as he swung his sword through another clump of heavy brush, clearing the path. Roach waited patiently behind him, and Jaskier less so. He turned to look back at them both, finding Jaskier giving him an unimpressed look. Geralt forced down the urge to grumble again. “They’re close,” he said, taking Roach’s reins to lead her through the cleared bushes. The path that they were following was barely a deer trail in places, clearly unused for decades. There had been no sign thus far that the area had once been populated aside from the occasional flash of white brickwork that told Geralt they were on the right track.

“Oh, really,” said Jaskier, who had likely not noticed the brickwork, based on Geralt’s past experience with his observation skills. “You know what I think, Geralt? I think we’re lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere, a day away from the nearest hamlet, and we’re just as likely to find a wyvern den as an elven temple out here.”

“Wyverns don’t populate the lowlands,” Geralt said automatically, kicking a large branch out of Roach’s path.

Jaskier made a strangled sound behind him that Geralt might call a growl if it had come from anyone else. “I know that, I was being hyperbolic, you ass. You’re avoiding the issue.”

“We’re on the right path.” Another glint of white stone caught his eye, this time the edge of an arch wrapped nearly over in vines and moss. Only fragments remained, large chunks blending in with the forest floor.

“As if you would admit it if you were lost,” Jaskier griped, shoving a branch out of his own way. “Remember that time near Spikeroog? We were lost in a boat for three days because you wouldn’t just admit that we went west for six hours—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, and pushed aside the last of the foliage.

Jaskier fell silent, and they both looked beyond the treeline into the clearing Geralt had revealed. Before them rose a silent, crumbling stone structure, pale as a ghost against the dark lines of the trees in the afternoon light. Much of its surface had been reclaimed already by the forest, but enough of it poked through to give a general sense of scale. It towered at least two stories above them, though the edges were uneven in a way that suggested it once may have been higher. The front facade rose in a flat wall before them, pierced by a line of arches, their edges decorated in fading but intricate reliefs. Here and there along the line of what had once been the path leading to the central arch, the occasional protrusion of a column could be seen. The path beyond the central arch was shadowed, too dark for even Geralt to see past after so long in the daylight.

Jaskier stepped forward into the narrow clearing, and Geralt followed. Wordlessly, Jaskier raised a hand to trail along the remnants of a low, circular stone wall, perhaps the remnants of an ancient well. When he looked up at Geralt, his eyes shone, two pieces of midday sky in the murky shade of the forest. “I stand corrected,” he said, offering Geralt a giddy grin.

Geralt shook his head with a small smile, drawing Roach further into the clearing. “Let’s set up camp here. You can explore when we have someplace to sleep.”

Jaskier agreed eagerly and they both launched into the process of setting up camp. They fell easily back into old patterns, Jaskier slotting seamlessly into Geralt’s routine. It was always easier to set up and break down camp when the bard was around, though Geralt thought it had very little to do with splitting the work halfway.

Within half an hour they had created a comfortable camp in the clearing and Geralt had Roach tended to, and they both stood before the dark archway into the ruins.

Jaskier hesitated over the threshold, his excitement over the history of the place apparently conceding to nerves. “Well, ah. After you, witcher,” he said, holding out an arm as if holding an imaginary door for Geralt to walk through.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stepped into the small hall beyond the archway, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. “Come on, bard,” he called over his shoulder, amusement and affection swelling in his chest as he heard Jaskier mutter and quick footsteps follow after him.

The hall ended in a flight of stairs leading down, and they had to pause to light a torch when Jaskier ran directly into Geralt’s back and nearly knocked them both down it. A quick burst of igni had firelight dancing across the smooth white stones as they descended into the ruins.

Elves, Geralt had found, rarely built up. Though their cities had towered in ages past, their true magnificence had always lain below ground. The complex that they made their way down into was labyrinthian, huge open hallways with dozens of rooms and offshoots, archways that looked in on underground courtyards with pierced ceilings that let in the daylight, huge caverns expertly carved into cathedrals. Jaskier quickly brought out a bit of charcoal he often used for taking notes or sketching and began to mark their way with arrows pointing back the way they’d come, so they might not be hopelessly lost in the ruins. Geralt led them mostly by smell, at first; Triss had mentioned that any ritual chambers would likely be on the lower levels, as they were considered private and upper floors were generally public. He followed the cool, chalky scent of wet stone deeper into the ruins, down ramps and stairways until they were all but buried in the earth.

“I never knew the true breadth of them,” Jaskier breathed at one point, as they made their way down a winding spiral staircase that curved along what seemed like a natural cave shaft. “I’ve read, of course, about the scale of the old elven kingdoms, but it’s different to see it all. We’ve been walking for hours already and I feel as if there’s still miles to be seen.”

“Maybe not miles,” Geralt said, keeping one ear out for potential movement and one on Jaskier’s footsteps on the slick stone steps. “One’s I’ve been to before are usually somewhere around five and fifteen levels. We’re getting close to the bottom.”

Jaskier hummed in acknowledgment. “You could take an entire lifetime to study this place. Why hasn’t anyone surveyed it? How do you know the thing you're after for this ritual hasn’t already been taken?”

At that moment Geralt heard a gentle click, and he reached up just in time to pluck the arrow from the air as it hissed past his ear and towards Jaskier’s head. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder, finding Jaskier wide eyed behind him. Looking meaningfully down at Jaskier’s foot, he jerked his chin up.

Jaskier lifted up his foot, and the click of a pressure plate resetting filled the narrow space.

“That’s how,” Geralt said, tossing the arrow to the side.

“Of course,” Jaskier said weakly. “Of course the place is booby trapped.”

“And haunted probably,” Geralt agreed, continuing down the stairs. “Stay close. Wouldn’t want you to die before I can make you immortal.” The words were said as much in jest as he could make them, but he felt a brief strum of anxiety all the same.

Jaskier huffed in annoyance, but Geralt could feel him press even closer. He ignored the way that the air between them seemed to heat, the soothing warmth of Jaskier’s presence pressing back the dark more efficiently than any torch.

“Look,” Jaskier’s voice came from behind him. Geralt turned around to see Jaskier rubbing at a patch of the wall in the hall they were currently trekking through, the ancient slabs of stone crumbling a bit at his touch. “There’s writing here.”

Geralt stepped up next to him, feeling Jaskier’s warmth radiating along his side. Forcing himself to ignore the proximity, he leaned in to peer at the wall. “Elder, looks like. Can’t make it out.”

“It looks like one of the early northern dialects, closer to Laith aen Undod.” Jaskier scrambled in his small pack and pulled out his bit of charcoal and his notebook, handing the torch off to Geralt. Accepting the light, Geralt frowned at Jaskier as he made a few quick lines on the paper, referring back to the wall a few times. His tongue poked just barely out between his lips, as it always did when he was concentrating. After a moment he stood up straight, leaning towards the light to examine his own markings.

“Can you read that?” Geralt asked, genuinely surprised. He was fairly well versed in Elder, but his knowledge was more practical, learned from his interactions with the Scoia’tael and learning the Signs. The One Speech was well beyond his understanding, not to mention the various ancient dialects of Elder.

“Mm, I’m better at reading Elder than I am at speaking it, I’m afraid. Academic knowledge. Have to be able to translate the old poems and stories, after all.” He flashed Geralt a grin, the laugh lines deepening around his eyes. They sparkled in the light of the torch, turning the blue silver-gold. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat.

When Geralt didn’t respond quickly enough, Jaskier turned back to the notes he’d made on the paper. He muttered a few things to himself in Elder, the words sounding oddly musical—as if he’d learned to pronounce the language through song, which he probably had. Finally he scribbled a few notes in Common. “I think it’s a road sign, of sorts,” Jaskier said slowly. His tone took on the particular quality that Geralt had come to recognize as his “professor voice” over the years. He’d always found it rather amusing. “This complex must have been big enough to necessitate passage markers. See the sideways arrowhead under the top line? It says—well, I’m not sure, but I know the root has to do with the evening meal, so I’d guess it’s pointing to some kind of tavern or dining hall. And this one just says ‘sanctuary,’ I think. That’s a weird one, that symbol in more modern Elder just means ‘place’ but there’s a prefix here that adds a sort of defensive quality to it. Maybe ‘protected place’?” Jaskier frowned down at his own work. Already he had somehow managed to smudge charcoal across his cheek.

“Might be right,” Geralt grunted, impressed. “Triss said it would be in a safe place. ‘Ionad chosanta.’”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully. “Could be as good a translation as any.”

“Better than wandering around,” Geralt shrugged, and turned towards the hall the arrow pointed towards. Before stepping into the darkness, he paused, looking back at Jaskier. Without letting himself think too hard about it, he reached up and rubbed away the charcoal on Jaskier’s cheekbone. The sweep of his thumb pushed back the soot and revealed the pale skin underneath, still so soft even after so many years spent traveling out in the elements. That skin care regiment Jaskier was always going on about must be worth something, he thought faintly.

Jaskier was silent, staring at him with an expression that reminded Geralt of a hare staring down the point of an arrow. Clearing his throat briefly, Geralt let his hand fall and said, “Thanks. For the… You did good.”

Even in the dim light, Geralt could see the flush that lit up Jaskier’s face at that, spilling prettily over his cheekbones. He gaped at Geralt for a moment before his mouth snapped closed with a near audible clack. Geralt expected a witty rejoinder of some kind, perhaps a jab at his historical inability to offer praise. He knew he deserved it, even if Jaskier meant it in anger rather than jest. Raising Ciri had taught him the value of voicing his appreciation and affection for others, even if he still struggled for the right words to do so. Yennefer had painstakingly beat it into his head. Ciri hadn’t known that he cared unless he said so, and so he had no other alternatives. Looking at Jaskier gaping at him, he wondered how many times Jaskier had assumed that Geralt cared little for him for lack of a kind word. His chest hurt at the thought.

After long enough that the silence had grown heavy and awkward, Jaskier coughed lightly, ducking to hide his expression. The ribbing Geralt had prepared himself for did not come. “Not a problem,” was all Jaskier said, brushing past him. “Let’s get a move on, yes? Don’t want the torch to run low.”

Geralt stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and following.

The shrine, when they found it, was hidden behind a thick patch of rubble that Geralt had to blast out of the way with a few precise applications of aard. He slipped inside first, sliding through the small opening in the stone and landing lightly on the other side. His eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom, to his surprise, and he realized that there were several glowing crystals embedded in the walls around him at even intervals. There came the sound of cascading stones and a low curse from behind him, and he turned in time to catch Jaskier’s elbow before the bard fell flat on his face.

“Ah, thank you, dear witcher,” Jaskier huffed, reaching up to fruitlessly brush the dust from his jacket. Looking up, he halted in his motions, taking in the room around them in its soft, ethereal light. “Oh,” he breathed.

It was indeed beautiful, even in its decaying state. Like everything in the tunnels, the structures were unmistakably elven, but even so they appeared alien to Geralt’s eyes. The walls were covered in delicate mosaic work, in patterns that danced in the flickering light of their torch and that of the crystals. The center of the room was dominated by a blank circle of unmarked stone, with Elder runes engraved along the edge that Geralt could not even begin to decipher. The circle was framed by a delicate canopy of carved white stone, supported on four pillars of the same material. The carvings were so minute that for a moment Geralt thought the entire structure might be built not of stone, but of some sort of webbing or silk. It was delicate enough to be blown glass, but when he set his hand against one of the pillars it was as unforgiving as a mountainside.

Jaskier ran his fingers along one of the walls, tracing a twist in the tiny shards of colored glass. “It’s beautiful,” he said, voice pitched low.

“Triss said these places were sacred to the Aes Sidhe. They mark where the elves first arrived,” Geralt said. He found his own gaze drawn back to the center of the unmarked circle beneath the canopy. “Here.”

Set into the very center of the stone circle was a small depression, no larger than Geralt’s palm. He stepped into the circle and knelt down, peering at it. Within the shallow bowl formed by the carved out floor sat an oval stone, maybe three inches long at its widest point. Drawing out his trophy knife, Geralt set the edge of it against the lip of the facet and twisted it. It popped out surprisingly easily, as if it was meant to be removed by design.

Jaskier hovered behind him as Geralt picked up the gaes carraigh. It was cool against his fingers, made of a translucent white stone that became more opaque at the edges. The center was nearly see-through, and when Geralt held it up the light played oddly in its depths. His medallion hummed faintly against his chest, warning him of the presence of magic. “Is that it?” Jaskier asked, resting one of his hands on Geralt’s shoulder to lean in closer.

“Think so,” Geralt replied, trying to ignore the weight of Jaskier pressed against him.

“What exactly does it do?” Jaskier reached out his free hand to press a finger against the center of the stone, curious as always. Geralt allowed it, and forced himself not to flinch when their fingers brushed incidentally. He could feel his ears warm regardless.

“It… binds the words of the ritual, or something. I didn’t ask.”

“Gaes carraigh… promise rock?” Jaskier tried, dropping to lean his full elbow on Geralt’s shoulder, casually slotting their forms together. His fingers barely brushed against Geralt’s collarbone, and he took a slow breath to maintain control over his heartbeat. Suddenly the proximity was overwhelming. Here they were, in a sacred space where possibly dozens of couples had made their vows to each other, fingers both lingering over the stone that would bind their oaths. In another life, perhaps they could have had something like this—Jaskier resplendent in the light of the blue crystals, eyes shining, looking at Geralt with adoration as they made their promises to each other. He would want to dress up, like he always did for a big event, but this time it would be only for himself and Geralt. Would he dress in blue? Or perhaps black, a witcher’s color, his pale skin like moonlight against the night sky. Would he wear a crown of periwinkle and sage, as was the northern custom? He would lean in close, like he was now, and murmur his vows to Geralt in words that flowed as smooth as a song.

He hadn’t known it was possible to want something so badly it was like a physical ache. Geralt was a witcher; he did not allow himself to think on things he couldn’t have. But here in this place, with Jaskier so close and yet so far away, the force of his desire felt oppressive. Jaskier didn’t know what any of this meant, and Geralt had no right to it, no right to want it. It was just a ritual. The context didn’t mean anything, because Jaskier would never feel that way about him.

After all, Geralt thought, looking down at the oathstone in his palm, who would want to marry a witcher?

Jaskier was still talking, and Geralt wrenched himself out of his thoughts when the arm on his shoulder pulled back and Jaskier patted the empty space once, as if in parting. “—probably get going, don’t you think? I do not relish the idea of being stuck here overnight. Not that I am not entirely confident in your abilities, darling, but I feel it’s best not to tempt fate when it comes to ghosts of ancient elven sages. Do you think they would count this as stealing? Probably. Anyways, I don’t want to find out what angry centuries old spirits do to trespassers.”

Geralt grunted, still gathering himself. He felt sluggish under the weight of his own emotions, pushing himself to his feet laboriously. The oathstone was heavy in his hand, and he slipped it into his potions pouch in the hope that it would feel less burdensome there. Without a word, he stood and exited the chamber the way they’d come, Jaskier fumbling after him.

#geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #witcher #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #me lamh #multichapter #big bang #geraskierbigbang

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bright-whump · 3 years ago

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FEBUWHUMP2022 DAY 13: WON'T REGAIN CONSCIOUSNESS

@febuwhump

CWs: mentions of branding and torture, defiant whumpee, fainting, briefly presumed dead, rescue

Part 2 (previous)

Malcolm doesn't know how long he runs for, or how far.

The near-zero visibility the downpour is giving him is in his favor, he knows, because it'll be harder for their pursuers to see him if they're still looking, but it's also making it harder for him.

He nearly knocks himself out cold on a low branch, and he trips and slams into the mud more than a few times, but each time he falls he drags himself up and keeps going. He only breaks when his lungs burn too much to handle, when his heart feels like it can't take anymore and his legs are giving out, and even then it's only to catch his breath, to cough and wheeze and then sprint off again.

He can't stop. He can't. Gil's life depends on it. His life depends on it.

He's aching everywhere, beaten and bruised, but the burn on his hip is something worse. It chafes against his wet clothes with every movement, no matter how he tries to adjust himself, and when he finally really looks down at it, the fabric around it is dark red.

It's terrifying to know that what's under that is permanent. He's scared to know how bad it looks, so he just...doesn't. It doesn't matter anyway. Not right now.

When he finally reaches the road—the one he'd stopped being completely sure existed at all—he's bleeding from everywhere his clothes aren't. His knees give, sending him sprawling to the concrete, and he blinks once, twice, to get the rain out of his eyes...

And then there's someone cupping his face, and he hadn't realized he'd closed them for so long. Dani is above him, JT beside, and he's so damn relieved...

Gil.

"Wh—how long's it—Gil. Gil's hurt. Bad. We have to—"

"We'll find him, Bright," JT says, but they won't. They won't. Malcolm hid him too well.

"No. No," he mumbles, shaking his arm so the medic currently trying to stick an IV in him can't, and he rolls over.

Face pressed to the sticky ground, for a moment he's not sure he can get up. He must have twisted his ankle at some point, because it burns and throbs, his shoe tight against swollen skin.

But Gil. Gil matters more than any pain he can ignore.

He went straight. He knows he did...thinks he knows. So he takes them back, doing his best not to limp, until Dani catches him when he falls, and JT wraps Malcolm's arm around his shoulders, supporting him.

"We've got you," Dani assures him, hand on his chest, but he's not sure he's got himself. His eyes keep drifting shut, no matter how desperately he's trying to stay conscious, no matter how many times he shakes his head and thinks Gil.

And then there's a gunshot, somewhere to the left. Dani's gun is out in a heartbeat, firing off with the others, and JT turns, shielding Malcolm.

Malcolm still, somehow, loses track. The gunfire echoes oddly in his head, quieter than it should be, and he's so damn tired...

'If you wanted Gil dead so bad, you should have let me finish the job back then.'

Malcolm's eyes open wide at that voice, and he jerks. JT's beside him still, not his father. Never his father again.

Two of the three are lost. One of them—the one that'd burned Malcolm—glares at him as he's led off in cuffs with a bullet wound in his shoulder and leg, and with a shiver, Malcolm forces them to move forward again.

"Gil," he rasps, begging his mind to stay clear, because he already barely remembers where they're going, and he's already barely able to walk as JT practically drags him along.

Not soon enough, he finds the hill they fell down. Spurred on by adrenaline he tugs free from both of their support, staggering around, calling for Gil, swiping at the brush to try and remember where the little cove is—

And then nearly trips into it as the next push gives under his hand.

"Gil! Gil?"

He rips it all away from the opening, crawling inside, and finds Gil on his back, perfectly still, eyes closed.

His chest doesn't seem to be moving. Malcolm can't tell in the dark.

Gil," Malcolm whispers, and shakes him again. "Gil...I'm here. Wake up."

Gil doesn't. He's cold and pale, horribly so.

Maybe Malcolm was too late. Maybe he still didn't do enough.

"Gil! Wake up, please! No...no, no, no, don't—"

He pushes Gil onto his side, feeling under his neck for a pulse. "Please, d-don't be—"

Beat.

Far too fucking slow, but there. Malcolm cries out his relief, hugging Gil tightly as the medics squeeze in beside him, and then he backs up, letting them work.

"He's—he's gonna be—?" He leans back, caught by hands and pulled up and out.

"Easy," JT murmurs. "Bright, take it easy...you've done enough. More than enough. Let them."

"Is he gonna...?" His hand reaches up, and Dani takes it in her own, squeezing it. She's looking at him, tearfully, but...smiling.

"He's gonna be fine. Just like you. You're both always fine."

Malcolm doesn't feel fine. He feels sick, in pain, wrong...

And, besides them catching him as he suddenly falls, he doesn't feel anything anymore.

tbc

#febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday13 #defiant whumpee #barely conscious #whump #whumpblr #whumblr #whump writing #rescue #bright.writes

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princeanxious · 4 years ago

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I always have this like. One song that i listen to on one of my playlists, that without fail i imagine this animation/animatic idea with the sides in a winged au, doing some kind of tag-team olympic-like race of some sort, where it involves a ton of dofferent kinds of obstacles that need to be maneuvered around with expert skill, speed, and grace(each being separately counted with their own points catagory to add together for each team's final score) and like

(Ive also had this animatic idea since before janus and remus were revealed so they werent originally imagined as part of this idea but I can make it work just fine)

It starts off pretty simple with Patton leading the take off of the race, as his area of specialty is flying with grace(hes pretty clumsy otherwise, outside of flying, for contrast) and so it starts off with pretty visual manuveres that involve a seriously practiced skill to pull off, both while flying at a quick speed, and while flying around other contestants, but its the shortest part of the race because his not high on stamina to begin with

Then he taps Romans shoulder as he lands and then Roman takes off to the second portion of the race, quick reaction time, agility, and strong manuverability. There are lots more obstacles to avoid or pass through in this catagory, and Roman has large wings so many expect him to struggle with manuverability, but of course he nails it, able to dip low to pass through a small hoop without brushing against it and then lauch high to crest over a bar and then dip low, all at a high speed. Logan is already running for take off as Roman is slowing to land when they high five the trade off

Logan's wings are small and agile, and his area of skill involves quick thinking, agility, and problem solving skills. Some obstacles have false leads that could lose one time as they have to turn back from dead ends or go through even more complicated parts of the course, some are angled weirdly and require an altered version of a vommon manuver to pass through, so on and so forth, and at this point their team is gaining a bit of a lead when he passes the touch to Janus.

Janus's wings are partially damaged, and thought he can still fly just fine, hes more skilled with graceful moves like patton, but the twist is that these moves and maneuveres have to make it through certain obstacles, like hoops and weaving back and forth between a line of metal poles to count for points. He manages it alright but some other winged player, a bad sport, just barely whips past and against the tip his bad wing and disbalances him a bit, loosing their team precious seconds as he has to struggle to right himself to tag Remus in on time

Remus has to focus not to go after the bad sport and instead puts all his effort into the next course, which infact is the one course of the race where flying isnt the main goal, its allowed, but flying 100% of it makes the whole course more difficult. Its infact more of a parcore course, with passing targets to hit and checkpoint flags to grab as you pass, wall climbing up tight walls that are too narrow to fly up and dropping down slopes and weaving between pillars and corners that are too tight to safely pull ones wings out. This, Remus dominates at. Once hes finally out of the course, he tags Virgil, and now their team is on the final stretch of the race.

(This is also where the music of the song starts the crescendo before the pause before beat drops)

Virgil, who is the newest and smallest of the team, is nervous, and hasn't had long to prove to their team that he's good. This is his first year truly participating in an event like this too so his teammates are all gathering at the finish line, waiting in anticipation. Virgil has never boasted about his talents, and struggles to practice with them because his expertise is speed, agility and stamina, and the practice required for that is much more solo. So the team doesnt really know what to expect from him because this last part of the course is the most difficult for anyone with wings in general, even those who train for years because this final course makes it easy to lose speed and stamina fast, and its very common for contestants wings to give out or cramp up mid flight from the strain of keeping a steady altitude, making it a very dangerous drop into the stretch of ocean below.(not to worry, as theres stand-by medical teams to immediately rescue those who drop, and the worst that comes of these is usually strained/sprained wing muscles and shoulder muscles and some bruising.)

its a very long stretch of 'track' from the starting point being at the drop off of an extremely large cliff(the entire race has been using each course to climb up a mountain section by section) right into the ocean, and the entire stretch of flight is completely over deep water, and the finish line is on a large cruiz ship to kick off celebrations once the race is over.

And well, Virgil is small, shorter than his rival contestants, and kind of stout but not by much. But this entire time up till this point you never see his wings, theyre a pitch black lump on his back, naturally pulled tight from anxiety, while the other contestants are stretching their large and small wings out for the long dangerous flight ahead of them.

And just as Remus comes into view, Virgil takes a deep breath and relaxes, though his wings stay pulled tight. The trade off from Remus to Virgil is smooth, though a few other contestants are already taking off ahead of him, but he pays it no mind.

The strip of land he starts at is long enough to get up to a running speed, but instead of leaping up to unfurl his wings and take off or glide off, he takes the entire strip of land to sprint to the cliff,

And then he dives.

And by this point there are snippets of judges and contestants and his team gasping or staring in shock as this is not a normal strat and is infact extremely dangerous for even the most skilled of strong flyers. And Virgil has never particularly come off as a strong or skilled flyer, cautious and fast yes, but skilled?

(This is where the songs tempo starts to pick up to the fullest part of the first beat drops crescendo before lulling-)

And to top it all off, this clif is at least a mile or two high. For the first mile down, first still doesnt open his wings, but instead of looking panicked, he looks calm, his eyes closed and his arms at his side as the wind whips through his face, but its a perfect dive, and the wind fails to throw him off course like people expect it to.

And finally, just as it looks like hes about to dive headfirst into the ocean at full speed, his body doing a few twirls,

His long raven black wings unfurl-

And he soars.

(And the second beat drop hits and erupts into a dramatically energized beat)

Whatever the distance was that he fell behind the other contestants from the time it took to drop is easily lost as the momentum of his drop and the pushing currents of the ocean air send him rocketing towards the finishline, barely losing momentum the way his opponents do with their flapping while his sleek wings cut and glide through the air currents; every once in a while tipping his wings one way the other to catch on the ocean surface to maintain balance

Before you know it, he's close to the finish line of the race, and it takes one solid angles flap to pull him up enough to fly through the finish line with first place at a speed unheard of for this kind of race course, still meters ahead of the contestant to get second place.

Everyones in awe, people are cheering, and Virgil is smiling bashfully, and his team croud around him and are complimenting him

And, of course, because of Virgil's near world record-breaking preformance, their team wins.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #sanders sides au #sanders sides animatic #animatic idea #luka writes #luka draw this

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 29: Emergency Room

CW: Medical whump, sick whumpee, hospital whump, brief references to past child abuse and resulting traumatic association

Immediately follows Infection and Disorientation

Chris wakes up in the middle of a sentence.

Or rather, when his brain switches back on and he is conscious on a level he can participate in, he’s already talking, and the first thing he is aware of is a woman’s face, brown-skinned and with a slightly dry smile, watching him as he is saying, “-and, and, and then I saw, um, saw towels and the, the, the colors were all wrong, so, so I fixed them.”

“Oh, did you,” The woman replies, and there is a guarded kindness in her. “That was very kind of you.” He blinks at her, his vision slowly coming into focus. Chris takes a deep breath only to wince as a hazy sort of pain ripples up his right side. She leans over, a little closer. Her hair, black and full of tightly-wound curls slips over her shoulders and forwards, just brushing her cheeks. “Are you back with us? Don’t breathe so deep yet, okay?” She tilts her head, putting a hand up to push some hair back from his face. Jake does that sometimes, and Chris turns his head to encourage the affection, closing his eyes again.

Eyes closed feels better.

In the clinic they’re always kinder to trainees, if still brusque, businesslike, getting them in and out with bandages applied, fevers broken, internal injuries healed with rest and whatever drips down the IV to make them sleep when they have done nothing but beg for sleep since they lost themselves to the Drip.

The nurses are nicer than the handlers, and this one is talking to him and touching him but only where he wants her to, and that makes her the nicest of all.

The way the world is spinning begins to settle when his eyes are closed and she lays her hand briefly against the side of his face, and he breathes a little more easily. He must not be in trouble, if she’s allowed to be so nice.

There’s something beeping nearby, and he doesn’t like the flat white light coming from the fluorescents in the ceiling laying on exposed skin - he can feel its weight on his arms where they lay on top of the scratchy rough blanket - but at least it isn’t a cold light.

He shivers, opening his eyes to look down at himself, blinking. There are blankets pulled up to just under his arms, pale blue and sort of rough and soft, both at once, pilling so badly he can pick the little balls of fabric off bit by bit with one hand. Normally trainees don’t get blankets in the clinic, they’re supposed to freeze here, too.

He must have been very good but hurt anyway. Sometimes the handlers just want to hurt you, even when you’re good, because your tears are beautiful, too.

Besides, 499, you wanted this - you signed up so we would make you cry, right? Give me your arm, a little half-dose of purple should get you nice and worked up for us.

He tries to obey, rolling his left arm slowly over to expose the marked-up space at the inside of his left elbow - bandages wrapped around his left wrist over his barcode crinkling - and then realizes something is on - is in - his left arm. There’s… there’s a needle in his arm already, with a thin tube that runs up to a stand on wheels with multiple bags hooked onto it, and he thinks there’s something down below his waist, too. A catheter.

He’s been bad, then. There’s only one reason to have a needle in his elbow and a catheter in, but when he tries to panic, he’s… he’s too tired, and too dizzy, and too foggy, to feel very scared at all. Even if they are going to take him away again, it’s too late. The Drip is already in his veins and there he goes, all of him, wiped clean all over again.

The soft throb of pain along his right side, wrapped up in the gentle blanket that covers his mind, makes it clear he’s not going anywhere very fast, not today. The handlers will have to leave him alone, and that’s good, but if he’s here and on the Drip, it means he’s back again.

Back in the Facility, here to be wiped, refurbished, and sent back to Sir or to someone new… and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

He feels his throat closing against helplessness - no, he was rescued, he was rescued and they said he’d never go back… they swore, they promised, Jake and Nat promised they wouldn’t let him go back, Jake would have fought them, he would have done something-

Tears flood Chris’s eyes and he hitches in a breath on a whimper. Jake must have gotten too hurt to save him. He must have, he might even be dead-

If it weren’t for you, she’d still be alive-

“Hey, hey, come on now.” The soft female voice is closer now, and her hand is back on his face, up to run back through his hair as he sniffles, coughs, winces as the dull pain sharpens briefly and then fades again. “It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s just the hospital, yeah? Your appendix ruptured, you had to come here in an ambulance, had some pretty serious surgery. Can you remember that?”

His eyes manage to open, blurred through his tears, and he looks at her. She’s not wearing the uniforms that handlers or even the nurses wear, but a softly floral scrub top and plain navy pants. Her smile is different than any nurse’s in the clinic that he’s ever seen. She’s looking at him, not through him.

“I d-don’t know where, where, where I am,” He whispers, and she nods, her smile still in place.

“I know. That’s why I’m the one sitting here with you right now. You’re in the county hospital. You’re okay, Chris.”

Not 223499, but Chris.

He reaches back into his own mind and finds the train track that Jake and Nat are on, remembers their faces, their names, the way it feels when they hold him. He brings up the memory of Jake pulling his shirt off, handing it to Chris, whispering, I’ll come back, I promise.

He remembers Jake carrying him up the stairs three days later.

Chris holds, for a moment, the memory of Jake looking at him as they loaded him onto the plastic-backed bed-thing in the ambulance. He can remember, clearly, Jake's voice. We’ll be right behind you, Chris. I swear to God I’ll be there. I promise you, buddy, we’ll bring you back home.

He’s awake.

Jake isn’t here.

“Um, J-Jake, my, my… my…” Chris shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water. What had Nat been saying, before the ambulance came? Talking to Jake, the two of them, going over their story. His name is Christopher Stanton. He’s my little brother, and he’s autistic. “My, my, my my my brother, my-... he p-promised, where’s-... need my, my, my brother-”

“I texted Yoder when you started talking,” The woman says gently. “They’ll be up to see you in just a minute, okay?”

He tries to believe her.

There’s a fog in his thoughts and the trains are all running, but slow, finding their way, winding around the gray clouds in his head. “I, I was talking already,” Chris whispers. “Even… though I wasn’t, um, awake.”

His throat feels a little scratchy and rough, like someone shoved something down there, but the agonizing pain he’d been in - the sharp ache that had been a knife shredding him to nothing again and again and again - is gone. In its place there’s a duller throb, and the sense of floating inside a very nice fog. Like the fog he hates, but… better, somehow, too.

“I was… was asleep, and now… ‘m talking, but, but I was still, um, asleep, and… and and and… and talking…”

“Yes, that happens. It’s coming out of sedation, you kind of wake up before you really wake up, you know? I’ve done this before, and you know, I had someone once who… came back to himself in the middle of telling me about a margarita recipe he used to make for his girlfriend. He didn’t remember it any longer when he was awake. That’s the fun of recovery, I hear all kinds of things when I’m with someone. My wife proposed to me in recovery from her own surgery, you know. She doesn’t remember it at all.”

“You… you you you said yes?” Chris looks back at her. He can focus his eyes again, and the look of her is nice. Soft, but like she’s had to be hard before. Like Nat looks, sometimes, only Nat doesn’t have a wife, or anyone at all but… but Jake, just like everyone else has Jake to help.

He moves his right hand, gingerly - he can feel the thick bandage wrapped around his left, and is never less than terribly aware of the needle in his elbow - and she takes it in both of hers.

Her hands are cool, and dry. He smiles, faintly, and lets his head fall back against a flat pillow behind him. There’s a window to his left, three panes of glass, and outside, when he turns his head, he can see some trees, a courtyard. Birds hopping around the branches, but he can’t quite see what kind they are.

The woman squeezes his hand lightly. Chris takes a breath. This isn’t the clinic, because there are no windows at WRU. You’re never allowed to see outside, not until your owner is ready for you, not until you are good enough to go home.

Going outside is a privilege a pet has to earn.

This… this must be what an actual hospital looks like. He’s seen them on TV, sometimes. The TV ones didn’t really look much like this.

The woman keeps his hand in one of hers and uses the other to check her phone. “Oh, I made her ask again when she was all the way conscious, but yes.”

“That’s, that’s that’s nice. I’m Chris.” His voice is low, and shy, and he doesn’t see her nod - he doesn’t want to stop looking out the window at the clear morning sky - but he can kind of feel it, anyway.

“I know, sweetheart. Your family will be here any second, but they wanted you to have someone when you woke up, so I’m kind of sitting in for them for a bit. Don’t worry, they’re on their way.”

“Jake-”

“Yes, I’m told there’s a man named Jake and, you know, I know Yoder pretty well by now.”

“Why… why, why why why do y’call… Nat? Yoder?”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know. Just always have. Used to be we weren’t allowed to know each other’s first names, so I guess the habit stuck. How are you feeling?”

“Um. Weird. Am, am, am I… give m’drugs?” Fear hits, again, but it’s faded, a shadow of itself. He shifts his left arm and feels tape pull against the skin inside his elbow, looks at the tubing that runs from the needle up to a bag hanging on a metal stand. There’s a machine, too, that shows numbers he doesn’t understand. His eyebrows furrow. “Was I… bad?”

“No, sweetie, no. No. You just had to have surgery, and you have to be knocked out for that.” The woman pats his hand again, and Chris tries to relax himself. There’s a window, and if there’s a window, he’s not going back. He recites the differences like an incantation. Like a chant. Like a prayer, to keep him safe, as long as he does everything just right.

There’s a window, and so he can’t be going back. He can see outside, the sky and the sun, and so he’s not going back. There’s kindness here, compassion and warmth, and so he isn’t going back. His wrists and ankles aren’t strapped down to the bed, so he’s not going back. Her hand holds his but it doesn’t touch him anywhere he doesn’t want, so he’s not going back. “Do you know what an appendix is, Christopher?”

Chris looks back at her. She has a nice face, and warm eyes, and calls him a name and not a number, so he’s not going back.

He can remember Jake, so he’s not going back.

Jake will come find him, and he’s not going back.

“No, ma’am,” He says, softly.

She laughs, and he likes the sound of her laughing, shaking her head, her curls moving with her. “Not a ma’am, thanks. I appreciate the politeness, though. I just don’t like being ‘ma’am’d, I’m not quite that old yet, now am I?”

“Where… where, where where where Jake is from, you c-call… everybody sir or, or ma’am, if you’re… if you’re raised right.” He tries to put the hint of sarcasm, dry and cynical, that Jake always has when he says it, but it doesn’t work for him. He can tell it doesn’t quite sound the same. He is floating, in this warmly lit room, watching the sky change from grayish-pink to purplish and finally to a pale blue, going cooler and deeper at the top.

The sun is rising, warm, to wash away the cold light.

“Well, that’s not where I’m from. In any case, your appendix is this little doohickey right there along your right side, and yours got infected. So Yoder-... well, Nat, I guess - called a mutual friend of ours-”

“Am-... ambulance,” Chris whispers, thinking of the two people, moving around him. His memories are faded and terrified and full of pain, but he thinks of the gloved hand on his shoulder, the hint of a brusque, calm reassurance, cool focused expression and clear brown eyes. “Finn.”

“Right. That’d be my friend. Then you weren’t feeling super great when we got you here, your appendix burst and you sure gave Mandela a job to do cleaning out that infection, huh? Finn stuck around to help out with that, they trained as an Army medic. Did they tell you that?”

Chris just blinks at her, and slowly shakes his head.

“Yeah, way back. Signed up right out of high school, dealt with some scary shit when things got tense at the Canadian border when Canada started taking runaways… anyway, they’re good in a pinch, but so am I, I guess.” She shrugs. “We can’t trust everybody, so… they helped us get you stable, and then we got you in and out of that OR. Just between us, though? Can you keep a secret?”

Chris blinks twice, then slowly nods.

“Good. Just between us, I think they stuck around because they took a shine to you. Anyway, now you’re hooked up-... let’s see, they said you wouldn’t like the IVs, so let me tell you, it’s something for your pain and a literal ton of antibiotics, that’s all.”

“An, antibiotics-... for the, um, the the infection?”

“Right. That’s all it is, I promise, antibiotics and something to make sure your incision doesn’t hurt too badly. Mandela knows her work, you should be able to leave in the next few days. Mandela’s kind of an arrogant blowhard, but she’s also maybe the second-best surgeon I’ve ever met and she’s, you know, safe… for you. Lucky for us she was meeting someone at that Starbucks across from the hospital, huh?”

“... lucky, lucky for us,” Chris repeats, just to show he’s listening, but he doesn’t quite understand what he’s being told. He could, he thinks, if he could just wake all the way up, but the hint of fog makes the connections a little more difficult, more of a struggle. “Um, can, can I, can I ask-... are you… Tori?”

The woman blinks, and then laughs again, and Chris smiles faintly in return. He wants her to laugh again and again, it’s a nice laugh, it changes the light inside the hospital room when she laughs like that. Makes it brighter, more like sunshine and less like a cold white room with a door he can’t open.

He wonders if her wife makes her laugh.

“Oh, Finn got chatty in the ambulance, hm? Well-”

There are footsteps, and the woman turns before she can answer his question.

“Let’s see… 210, 212… 214… here it is, 216, this should be it. Jake, damn it, knock first-”

The door opens with a hard jerk of the knob, and Chris looks to the doorway. He knows the bit of blond hair before he sees the face it belongs to. The fog inside his head is familiar, but it hasn’t taken anything away from him.

They didn’t take Jake away.

He lets go of the woman and a smile stretches across his face. The throb of pain is gone, it can’t hold together under the weight of the warmth inside him. “Jake!”

Jake moves through the doorway, eyes on Chris, the bright blue focused and intense, shadowed from lack of sleep. His hair mussed, and he’s still wearing the clothing Chris saw him in last, rumpled. He drops a backpack on the floor as he moves, and he doesn’t even seem to realize he’s done it. Nat appears behind him, her braid half-undone, circles under her eyes dug in even more deeply than the ones under Jake’s.

Jake leans over him, one knee up on the bed. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hi, hi, hi, um, hi-... h-hi, Jake.” He holds out one hand. “Um, can you, could, could you please-”

“Oh, Christ, be careful, he just had surgery!”

The woman’s warning is lost, because Jake is already hugging him.

Warm, strong arms around him, and he tucks his head right under Jake’s chin and breathes in the familiar smell of him, deodorant and cologne and the laundry-smell from his shirt, the skin-smell of Jake underneath all of it. The simplest way to anchor himself, the greatest certainty he has that he isn’t going back, because Jake is here, and Jake would never let anyone take him away, not ever again.

“There were people having a fucking pizza party in the ER waiting area while you were in surgery, I thought I’d kill them with my bare hands if I had to listen to it any longer. Who the fuck orders fucking delivery pizza at the ER?” Jake’s voice is cracking, and Chris hums, twisting his right hand into Jake’s shirt, twist-and-release, then finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, and it’s solid and real and the sun is so pretty outside the window.

“Sorry I, I, I, I didn’t tell you I was, um, was sick,” Chris whispers.

“Sorry I didn’t know without you having to tell me,” Jake whispers back. “I hate hospitals, little man, you have no idea how much I hate having to tell lies in a hospital again. Fuck, I hate hospitals so fucking much.”

“Me, me, me me me, me too, but, um, but it’s okay with you here. It’s okay. It’s, it’s not-”

“It’s not the same,” Jake says softly.

“Right. Not, not, not the same. I’m, I’m, I’m not, not, not, um, not going… going back.”

“Never, Chris. Not ever. Letting you go in that ambulance without me is the second-hardest thing I’ve ever fucking done,” Jake whispers, and tears build in Chris’s eyes as he buries himself against Jake’s neck, his hands making short, jerky little flapping motions as he struggles to keep the feelings inside him from overwhelming his ability to speak.

“What, what, what was, was the hardest?”

“What?”

“What’s, um, what’s… what’s the, the, the… the-the hardest thing? You’ve, you’ve ever, um… ever done?"

Jake’s breath hitches, and there are tears in his voice as he holds on tight. “Sitting in fucking limbo knowing I couldn’t be the one to help you.”

Chris swallows back a twist inside his heart. “Y-yeah?”

“Yeah, just… having to be stuck outside while someone else did all that shit that it feels like I’m supposed to do.”

There’s a sudden rustle at the window, and Chris turns his head just enough to see a flutter of red wings disappear down towards the courtyard below.

---

Tori belongs to @whump-tr0pes and is used with permission and great love

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#whumptober2020 #no. 29 #emergency room #sick whumpee #hospital whump #medical whump #conditioning #trauma recovery #trauma recovery whump #recovering whumpee #surgery reference #brief child abuse reference #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #found family #listen let me have my heavy-handed touches okay.

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

Alliance

Chapter 2 – The Decision

(Mando x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: The child taken, his ship destroyed the only one who can help him? A woman he sold into slavery several months earlier.

Notes: Wow wow wow! Thank all for the likes im glad ive gained some interest lets hope I can keep it! Comment or message to be added to the tagged list!

Tw: mentions of dubcon/sex, depictions of violence and coarse language

Tagged list: @crazycookiecrumbles

Word count: 3.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7 months later

Mandos POV

Using all his wits and a touch of charm the Mandalorian had managed to make his way to a nearby town. Once there he’d likely be able to hitch a ride or win some kind of ship in a game of cards. He didn’t need a good one, just something to get him to Navarro. He makes his way to a more upscale bar, hoping its clients would be more lucrative with their belongings. Scanning the gambling hall he chooses his target carefully, opting for a rich looking idiot who had been trying to impress the man next to him since the Mandalorian had walked in. He takes his seat at the round wooden table amongst a variety of lavishly dressed characters. He had to find the child as soon as possible. If he wasn’t with the empire yet there’s no doubt he would be soon.

“Deal me in” He says, taking a seat between an Iktotchi and an Ortolan.

“Not so fast, what's your buy in?” the dealer asks.

“How about that helmet?” The Ortolan pipes up.

“No.”

“The creature then?” the Falleen across the table ponders reaching out to touch Anya, who had been at his side when Grogu was taken and has refused to leave it since.

“No” he says, batting her hand away and tapping on his shoulder piece “Will this do?” The dealer nods and they begin. In the second hand he ends up winning a ship from his target who was seemingly unbothered by the loss as he nonchalantly tosses Mando the keys, before leaving the table.

Twirling the key on his index finger he makes his way to the bar, hoping to gain some insight on how to go about finding Grogu.

“Quite a game, didn’t know Mandalorians played cards.” The older humanoid bartender stated, shining off a glass. With no response he speaks up again. “Can I help you with something , give me something to tell the kids if I helped out a Mandalorian.”

“If someone was looking to find something lost where would he go?”

“You have any idea what this thing is?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea where it is?”

“No.”

“Tell you what, there was a woman, from a forest planet somewhere on the outer rim. Hair as white as snow, an old language on her body, a face that’s hard to forget. She helped me find my youngest after she was taken by smugglers.”

“Vryssa?” The Mandalorian says slowly, causing Anya to perk up.

“Aye that’s the place. You’ve been?” the barkeep ponders.

“Thank you, here” he says handing over a portion of the credits won in his game of cards to the speechless keeper.

Exiting the bar shaking his head in disbelief, of course the one person who could help him track the kid was someone with a personal vendetta against him. At least he knew who he had to find and where to start looking. Opening the doors to his new ship he gives it a quick once over. It was roomier than the razor crest, but not by much, too fancy for his liking in all honesty. Nicer amenities though and a decent sized bed which Anya had made her way onto, it would be a better place for when he gets the kid back. It had an armoury, but nothing in it, at least not yet. He closes it and makes his way up to the ship's cockpit. Decent enough system, more of a flashy ride than a functional one, made for a decently skilled pilot by the looks of it. Locking in the coordinates for Coruscant he begins his search.

For two weeks he attends black markets around the galaxy until one day he sees him, the man who had bought you. He follows him cornering him in a nearby alleyway.

“What do you want Mando?” The Kel Dor responds.

“I’m looking for a woman.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“She was bought by you a few months ago. Not jogging your memory? White hair, eternal blood.”

“Oh. Her difficult one, had to break her in a bit.” The choice of words was less than favourable to the Mandalorian, but in favor of time he brushed by it.

“What happened to her?”

“ Sold her.”

“ To who?” He says getting impatient

“Gladiatorial ring on Geonosis , she was a big hit, sold her for twice what I had paid, moved into the big arenas quickly. I’ll take you if you want.”

“No, give me the coordinates.” Mando says

“Should be easy enough for you to get her. She's been broken in well, nice and obedient if you know…” He knocks the guy out before he can finish the sentence.

R-16, Geonosis, Outer Rim Territories

Stepping out of the ship it doesn’t take long for him to figure out where you are. Large projections of posters with you line the street, apparently you were fighting today. The sounds of the arena increase as he gets closer, as does the crowd of people awaiting the show.

“A Mandalorian, you here to see the fight? Gonna be a good one. Fan favourite tonight the huntress.” A native geonosian exclaims.

“Is she the girl in the picture? The white haired one?”

“ Yes, and if you like what you see I’m sure a piece of that armour will get you a night with her, I’ve heard the trainer sells her off after fights.” The Mandalorian nods and heads off “How much for a ticket” he ask the seller,

“100 credits”

“For a fight?”

“For today’s fight? Yes.” Begrudgingly he pays the fee and enters into the dome. It is enormous, the revenue it brings in must be astronomical he thinks as he takes his seat.

Your POV

It hadn’t been an easy few months, but you were still alive. The handlers knew if they bled you all at once the value would decrease, and after having you fight and win over the fans, keeping you alive became more economically sound than killing you. Your most recent trainer, an older Duras named San Korliks, had gotten you into a slightly more dubious but very lucrative business. Turns out the rich love nothing more than spending the night with a victor. Between the fights and the suitors you’d have enough saved to live comfortably once you were out. Yes you were close to buying your freedom, 12 fights and a few more rich idiots and you’d be out of here. You’d find a planet with plenty of sand and water and settle down living out the rest of your days in peace. You could hear the crowd cheering from your cell, San would be here for you shortly. You stand up smoothing out the red tunic that had seen better days. It was shorter than you’d like and impractical for fighting, but your handler was right sex sells and it had kept you alive thus far. You move to the drawer of the cell, though tightly watched it was decently large and relatively comfortable. More wins meant better quarters. You pull out the gold plated armour clipping the chest plate, arm bands and shin guards into place before lacing up your worn down brown leather boots. Moving over to the small mirror you dip your hand into a bowl of burgundy paint smearing it down your face and onto your neck then around your well defined biceps. You're admiring your work when you hear a knock on your cell door.

“C’mon darling let’s give them a show” San says, he was nicer than your previous trainers, probably as you were bringing in the big bucks. You walk over to the cell door, he opens it and guides you to the enormous door that would soon open up to the arena.

“Try to let a little blood get spilled tonight, we need to sell some.” You nod, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms. “I also have some suitors lined up, high payers.”

“How many more till I’m out?” you question.

“ Just a few more darling, promise.” He says squeezing your shoulder. You hear the crowd chanting in the background as San leaves. You grab the spear left out for you, tossing it from hand to hand to gage its weight. You bounce up and down on your toes shaking out your body and calming your mind and preparing for whatever they were planning on throwing at you tonight. You repeat the number of days until you're free in your head. You could do this, you’d done it a hundred times now. Not that the killing gets any easier, but in order to survive you had to forgo morality. The doors open and the crowd erupts in applause as you enter waving to the adoring fans.

Mando’s POV

The loud speaker blares out over the crowd “ Tonight a special event, the huntress will take on not one, not two, but four opponents! Now to make it a fair fight, only one will be allowed to challenge at a time, but we have a lovely admixture of beasts and an extra special surprise for you all. The return of another fan favorite. Hang onto your seats folks, this is going to be a night you won’t soon forget” Four versus one, Mando thinks, as he watches you enter the arena, the odds definitely weren’t in your favour. He was prepared to jump in and get you out himself if he had too, you were his only chance at finding the kid after all. He hears a rumble of applause as a door across from you opens revealing a Rancor. He watches you closely, noticing how unphased you seemed by it. In no less than a minute he sees the spear fly from your hand hitting the creature right in its jugular killing it instantly. Not bad, he thinks, but it was just a Rangor, yes they were big, but they weren’t known for being strategic fighters. You pull the spear out of its neck, the crowd cheers seemingly alerting you to the presence of the Nexu that had appeared from the door behind you. It leaps towards you and he watches intently as you tuck and roll out of the way, spear still in hand, thrilling the crowd even more.

He wonders how much of the fight is a performance and how much of it was real. You and the Nexu circle each other, seeing you plant your feet he finds himself curious as to what your next move will be. You kick the dirt up causing the creature to charge again, as it leaps you take a knee lifting the top of the spear up, slicing the creature open causing its guts to fall down on you earning more zealous applause from the arena. He sees you stand up lifting your arms to get the crowd chanting, more showmanship. “What can you tell me about her?” he asks the couple sitting next to him. “Never lost a fight, and she’s beautiful, you need anything else?” They reply. He sees you wiping the creature's guts off your face when a door opens and a Terentatek appears, where the hell did they find one of those things the Mandalorian thinks. He sees your shoulders deflate, more so in annoyance, than fear based on the look on your face. It’s obvious you weren’t expecting a creature so large. After a few dodges and spear swipes the creature has you cornered, he sees you look side to side searching for an out, but there isn’t one, at least none he can see. Its mouth descends on you, seemingly engulfing you whole. The crowd is silent, it’s only then he notices he’s out of his seat. When had that happened? A glimmer suddenly appears from the creature's head as it gets brighter; he sees the spear had sliced through the Terentateks thick hide. The creature collapses and the skin on its head separates as you appear victorious. He sits back down observing you closely as you walk back towards the door from whence you came. The announcer's voice starts up again.

“Now for an extras special treat we’ve brought a fan favourite out of retirement, the demon slayer!” Just then the door opens and a Deveronian in head to toe black armour emerges wasting no time in launching his attack. He throws a dagger which catches you in the arm, the crowd erupts, the sight of your blood enticing them. He watches you intently as you bend over retrieving the knife off the floor and tossing it to the audience. Your opponent’s armour was thick, with very few openings in it. The crowd was getting excited, noticing that you had lost the spear to the Deveronian who had thrown it behind him.

You were the more skilled fighter, but the demon slayer was larger and stronger. He watches you try to make a pass. He thinks you’re in the clear but the opponent grabs you by the hair pulling you back into him as he brandishes another knife bringing it up to your throat. You bite down on his hand giving you just enough time to wrestle the knife from him no doubt slicing your hands open in the process. He doubts that this part of the fight was showmanship, both you and your competitor were evenly matched. It was anyone’s game. Your stunt had given you enough time to retrieve your spear. Just as he thinks you’ve gotten the upper hand he sees a mace extend out from one of the slayer’s sleeves, it sparks with electricity. If it so much as hit you, that would be it. The Mandalorian can feel his heart pounding finding himself wrapped up in the atmosphere of the arena as the creature approaches you swinging the mace. It wraps around your spear, the crowd is silent, they think it's all over, but looking at a nearby screen Mando makes out what appears to be a small smile on your face.

The mace wraps the spear and you pull back on it, hard, drawing the Deveronian in closer. As the electricity hits your arm you release the force from the pulling causing the spear to plunge up in-between the opening between the Devaronians chest plate and helmet killing him instantly. He sees you drop to your knees catching the falling opponent whispering something before laying him down on the floor. The crowd erupts in cheers, flowers and money are thrown to the ground, before picking it up he sees you circle back to each opponent kneeling on the ground for a few seconds before rising and moving on to the next.

“C’mon Mando” the people beside him say “blood auctions this way”. He follows them, but half the auditorium seemingly had the same idea and he was too far back to reach you. He sees you standing with your trainer as the blood spilled during the fight was sold to the highest bidder, the crowd intermittently grabbing at you. You’re quickly shuffled out the room. The Mandalorian exits through a back door, as he does he sees your trainer speaking to a Sephi. He hangs back, close enough to hear the conversation, but far enough away so as not to be noticed.

“Room 801. She’ll be ready for you in a half hour.”

“Perfect, makers, where will I go when she’s free? No one has ever compared to her” the client laughs.

“She’s not leaving, at least not for a while. Far too good for business at the moment. Hope’s what keeps her keen though. I oblige in her fantasies, so she can oblige yours ” The Duro gives the man the key and heads back into the arena. The man exits the alley bumping into the Mandalorian.

“Watch it Mando.” The Sephi says, pushing by him. As he pushes by, Mando snatches the key and makes his way up to room 801.

Your POV

“Hey San, how'd the rest of the auction go?” you ask, wiping off as much slime as you could in the small sink. “Good. I’ve put your cut in the bank for when you’re out. We have a client room 801, penthouse, he knows you apparently.”

“Half the galaxy knows me” you murmur “Do we have to tonight?” you ask, wanting to get out of your gear and go to sleep.

“C’mon he’s rich and not bad looking.”

“Fine” you sigh, not like you had a choice anyways. He chains your hands together and leads you up to the penthouse suite, at least you’d get to sleep in a large bed, maybe get a shower with decent water pressure. He unchains you and ushers you into the room, closing and locking the door behind you. You rub your wrists and crack you back stretching out your arms, you hear a cough. Weird, you think, clients were usually brought up after you’d had time to settle in. “I'm sorry I wasn’t expecting...” you say in your sweetest voice turning around. The tone is quickly dropped. The client was none other than the very person who had landed you in this situation.

“YOU” you shout, not thinking twice before charging at him, slipping a knife out from one of your arm bands and lunging for the Mandalorians neck. He grabs your wrists before they can make contact with him, bending them back causing you to drop the knife on the floor. He tries to restrain you causing you to panic accidentally using the force to throw him back against the wall. He crashed into the wall landing on the floor with a soft thud probably wondering what the hell’s just hit him. His hands quickly shoot up in the air, as you pick up the knife again pointing it at him.

“If you think for one second I’m going to sleep with you, you have another thing coming you stupid tin can, you’re lucky ...” you start but he cuts you off

“That’s not why I’m here.” He says quickly.

“ What?” you say, lowering your knife, but not your guard.

“ I’m here for your help.”

“ YOU want MY help? Makers you’re funny, you know I didn’t know Mandalorians could tell jokes.” you say sitting down on the bed across from him as he cautiously stands up, hands still in the air.

“I’m here to get you out” He offers.

“Why? what do you want from me?” you question

“Your help, the child he was taken I...” he pauses, you feel the sadness emanating off him, but you hold the knife true. “I need to find him before the others do, they’ll kill him.”

“Well should have thought about that before you lost him.” you say snarkily. Standing up you make your way to the door.

“Please, I can get you out of here.” He starts, you turn on your heel.

“Newsflash, I’m making my own way out of here just…”

“ ...a few more fights” he finishes for you. you look at him confused. “There never letting you out of here I heard your trainer he’s not letting you go. Something about being too good for business.” Was he telling you the truth? With the helmet covering his face it was hard to tell. From what your grandmother had told you, Mandalorians rarely lied, and deep down something was telling you to trust him.

“Bastard” you mutter moving away from the door. “Well i'll find my own way out.”

“Please” he says, taking a step towards you, causing you to lift the knife up again. “You wasted your money coming here, leave.”

“I didn’t pay”

“What?” you respond and he looks over to you . “You’re not the client?”

“No” he says dryly, as if the answer was obvious. The tension is cut by a sudden knock at the door.

“Shit, you have to hide” you say dropping the knife and pushing the Mandalorian in the direction of the bed.

“Where should I hide behind a curtain?” he deadpans

“I am not in the mood for jokes right now, get under the bed” you say lifting up the bed skirt.

“No”

“Yes” you say pointing ferociously under the bed.

“No”

“Fine, but you have to go somewhere or we're both screwed.” You say turning around to get the door. As you open it you start “look I can explain.”

“ Explain what?” The Sephi asks, pushing past you taking a seat on the bed. “You’re performance out there was almost as enticing as you” you turn back to close the door looking around the room in an attempt to locate the beskar clad man. “We’ve met before, remember?” he asked, as if you would.

“Hard to forget such a lovely night.” You lie, sitting down next to him realizing you were going to have to talk your way out of this one. “Listen, tonight’s been rough, and I want to be at my peak performance for you, we can reschedule for another night” you say stroking his cheek. The Sephi grabs your wrist, harshly. “ No, I paid for it now so I’ll get it now” . Just then you hear a blaster go off and the guy drops. The Mandalorian appears from behind the curtain

“Seriously.” you say, “I was going to deal with him”

“And I wasn’t going to sit and watch it happen,” he responds re-holstering the blaster.

“They’ll use this to keep me here forever” you say, more sad than angry.

“They were doing that anyway” the modulated voice says. “Come with me” he says reaching his arm out, “now or never”.

Standing up, you push past his hand and walk over to the dead client laying on the floor. Kneeling down you rummage around for his wallet before throwing it to the Mandalorian.

“Let’s get out of here” you say

“Here” he says, taking off his cape and offering it to you. You wrap it around yourself.

“I look like a goddamn Jawa” you say, making note of how long it looks on you.

“Come on before your handaler comes back” he says. The two of you make a swift exit, creeping through the back alleys until you reach his newly acquired ship.

#the mandolarian #mando x you #mando x reader #din dijarin x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #din dijarin x reader #Star Wars #star wars #Alliance #Chapter 2

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virgojeons · 4 years ago

Text

true love (jjk)

summary: you and jungkook spend your first christmas together.

alternatively, a merry love story based on the lyrics of true love by ariana grande.

genre: fluff, humor, college au, established relationship, holiday series, jeon jungkook x reader

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing, implied sexual content, excessive use of pet names

wattpad version here, ao3 version here

a/n: well, here i am!! pls be gentle with me, this is the first time ive ever posted my writing on here and ive been debating it for months lmao. i truly truly hope u enjoy!!

on the first day of christmas when you gave me all them kisses, boy you showed me things, come hold me please and never let me go.

"Five days until Christmas and you're still decorating the tree?"

You yelped at the sudden sound of your boyfriend's voice, dropping your over-accessorized ornament and watching helplessly as it shattered against the floor.

Immediately, you whined. "Jungkook!"

Jungkook suppressed a grin at the furrow of your eyebrows and the pout of your lips, kicking his shoes off and tossing his coat onto the couch. He didn't mean to scare you, really. You even knew he was coming over. It's just that you left the front door unlocked (as you always did when he was on his way, despite him constantly scolding you for it) and there was no way you would've heard him come in over the sound of Jingle Bell Rock blaring through the house.

"Sorry, baby," He chuckled, bending down beside you to help pick up the remnants of your best ornament. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You glared at him in between collecting the shards of glass in your hand. "I spent hours making that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Hot glue gun burns, sparkles stuck on my face and everything."

Jungkook took the pieces of glass from you with an amused look on his face, standing from his kneeling position to toss them in the trash can you had earlier moved to the living room for easy access. "I'm sorry. I'll make you another one."

"It's not the same." You sulked, finding fun in being stubborn and giving him a hard time. It was getting increasingly difficult though, with his rosy nose and ears and that little gleam in his eyes.

It was then that he made his first move of the night, tugging you by your oversized Rudolph sweater so quickly that you had to latch onto his shoulders for leverage with a squeal. His grin only seemed to grow once you were officially in his space, taking notice of your lack of pants and the snowflake stockings that appeared to be in their place instead.

"You don't look too sorry," You chuckled, heart stuttering at the way he was gazing down at you in such close proximity.

Jungkook shrugged, nudging his nose with yours. "I'm just happy."

They were such simple words, but it was the way he said them, the way he looked at you when he said them. You couldn’t lie, the excitement of spending your first Christmas together, completely alone, was incredibly infectious. It was gross and it was corny and everything else you swore you would never be, but you were in love with Jungkook. Devastatingly so. You from nine months ago probably wouldn’t even recognize the present you; a fact that friends, family, and even Jungkook alike loved to tease you about. Cracking the so-called ice queen was a feat to be celebrated, apparently. Whatever. He was yours and you were his so you didn’t quite care about the technicalities of it. Even if the story went a bit differently, in your opinion.

The brutal snow and temperatures of February were beginning to fade into spring when you met Jungkook.

You and Jimin had been attempting to finish your economics homework together in your favorite coffee shop; a hidden treasure that was a ten minute walk from campus and ticked all your aesthetic boxes. You two were sipping from your respective hot drinks, neglecting your heaps of bookwork in favor of discussing the new season of Stranger Things. Jimin was deep into his theory of Hopper still being alive when his eyes flickered to the door at the sound of the bell, widening slightly in recognition before a bright smile took over his face.

"Jungkook!" Jimin called, waving whoever it was over.

You followed his gaze and turned your head in the direction of the entrance, growing curious when the boy walking towards your table wasn't familiar to you. It took you less than five seconds to realize that the boy in question was attractive.

Like, extremely attractive. The kind of attractive that should not be subjected to the way you look right now.

It took you even less time to whip your head back around, glaring at Jimin with wide eyes and a panicked expression.

He met your glare with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows before it slowly transformed into a smirk, quickly catching on to what your pointed look was for. The night before had been a late one. You, like any other normal millennial, had impulse bought a pretty yellow Nintendo Switch solely for the new Animal Crossing game. As soon as it arrived on your doorstep you were retreating into your room, tearing the package open with squeals of excitement.

Maybe you completely lost track of time and played until your eyes were bloodshot and you heard birds chirping outside. Maybe you got an astounding two hours of sleep. And maybe you had fallen asleep without setting an alarm and woke up thirty minutes later than usual.

The details were insignificant though, because you were throwing on a pair of leggings and the first sweatshirt you saw, brushing your hair and your teeth, and hastily sprinting to your car all in record time.

No sleep. No makeup. No breakfast. And worst of all, no coffee.

And so, it was blatantly clear you had no desire to let a boy that beautiful even glance at you in that state, let alone introduce himself. But it didn't look like you had a choice in the matter, because moments later he was towering over your table with a stupidly handsome smile.

Jungkook grinned, reaching out to do that Weird Bro Handshake with Jimin. "Hey, Chim."

You were already plotting various methods of painful revenge in your head.

"Hey, Kook. What are you doing here?"

"I kind of work here," He chuckled. "Well, as of like, yesterday. Today's my first day."

"Oh, so this is the new job you were telling me about," Jimin nodded in realization, then his eyes flickered mischievously to yours. You’re rapidly shaking your head. "You know, this is my friend ___'s favorite coffee spot."

A scowl immediately takes over your face, only to be wiped off and replaced by a sickeningly sweet smile when Jungkook turns his head to look your way. The instant your eyes meet his you quite literally want to melt into the floor.

Jungkook smiles at you. Like, really smiles. "Hey, that's cool. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other then, right?"

Across the table, Jimin snorts, which only adds to the way your cheeks are absolutely flaming. You send a harsh kick to Jimin's leg as inconspicuously as you can, all while batting your eyelashes at Jungkook.

"Uh, yeah! We probably... will."

Jungkook looks positively amused, but if he notices Jimin rushing to clutch his leg, he doesn't say anything.

"Sweet," He grins again. There's a brief few seconds where you two are just gazing at each other, stupid and shy, until Jimin loudly clears his throat. "Right, well, I should probably go clock in. Let's chill sometime this week, Chim."

"Sure thing." Jimin sings, smugness plastered all over his face.

Jungkook waves, already backing away from the table with his eyes on you. "Nice meeting you."

You feel yourself flush again and you absolutely hate it. "Nice meeting you too."

With a final smile, Jungkook disappears behind the employee doors. The moment he leaves your eyes are screwed shut and you're slamming your head against the table. The silence speaks for itself. You don't even need to see Jimin's face to know that he's either smirking or stifling his laughter.

"Don't." You warn.

"You just blushed," He says anyway. "Like, four times."

"I most definitely did not blush."

"You did. You still are."

"I'm embarrassed!" You wail. "That's literally the only reason why. I look like I got ran over and dragged for three blocks."

"Jungkook sure doesn't seem to think so," Jimin hums, snickering as he sips his coffee.

"Stop."

"He likes you." He insists.

"He was just being polite." You defend.

"That is literally my childhood best friend. I think I would know."

This makes you pause. Then you sigh. "He doesn't even know me."

He doesn’t disagree. But then again, "Not yet."

"Stop trying to play matchmaker, Jimin. He said five words to me," You spoke firmly, exasperated as you downed the final sip of your latte. "Plus, I'm just focusing on me and my degree right now. No distractions."

Jimin knew that you were already worn out, and even though he was mostly joking around, he wouldn’t want to push you any further. He’d drop it.

"Fine. We'll see who's right in the end, though."

For now.

"I will dump that hot coffee over your head."

As it turns out, Jimin was kind of right.

It takes a grand total of four visits to your favorite coffee shop before Jungkook asks you out. The first time you were by yourself, nose buried in a book as Jungkook was clocking in. He wasn't able to speak to you until about an hour later, when the morning rush had passed and you had finally lifted your head from whatever was in that book.

You were honestly dreading facing him again, but you were prepared and actually presentable this time. Also you were kind of starving. And so, you hesitantly approached the counter. Jungkook took your order, both of you all fidgeting hands and sheepish smiles. You mentally patted yourself on the back when you spoke without any real mess-ups, and prayed that the cool girl aura you always tried so desperately to maintain was being transmitted.

Not like you were trying to leave a lasting impression, or anything.

He hand delivered you your coffee and muffin with a beaming grin, all while his new boss glared at him from behind the counter. He didn't have to know that you knew cashiers weren't supposed to serve the food.

The second visit was a few days after. You were with Jimin again, shooting down every jab he made about you only wearing a pretty dress because you knew you would be coming here. Jungkook joined you both during his break. As soon as he untied his apron and sat himself directly across from you, it struck. You knew you were screwed. You just couldn't stop staring at him. The chin in the palm of your hands and sparkles in your eyes type of staring. You would be much more ashamed if you couldn’t see the way he was staring right back. Jimin found this hilarious, of course, and would subtly find ways to connect you two in conversation. You weren't sure if you loved or hated him for it.

It was that visit that Jungkook insisted on sharing his slice of strawberry cake with you, claiming he wasn't that hungry. The both of you were embarrassed, whacking his arm and dismissing him as Jimin complained about being the third wheel. By the end of his break, Jungkook was positively smitten, you were begrudgingly infatuated, and Jimin was awfully smug. He reluctantly said bye to you both, and you were slouching forward with your head in your hands the moment he disappeared from visibility.

Jimin looked extremely pleased. "Believe me now?"

"Focusing on school," You protested. It was a weak one, but. Well.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" He mused.

And suddenly, you were frantic. Panicking. This was definitely not a part of the plan.

Quickly packing up your things, you groaned loudly. "You. Maybe me. Or both. I can't think in this place anymore."

"You'll be all over each other by next week."

"Shh!" You were childishly covering your ears and speed-walking out of the café.

Try as you might, you couldn't help yourself and returned the very next day after all your classes had finished. Jungkook was already there when you walked in, taking a customer's order but doing a double take and flashing you a smile when you appeared in his line of sight. This visit consisted of nothing but pretending.

Pretending to be studying. Pretending you weren't listening to him take orders just to hear his voice. Pretending you weren't sneaking glances at him. Pretending that the way your eyes kept meeting wasn't making your skin prickle. And you were just fine pretending, until suddenly he was in the seat across from with you his apron off and a steaming hot chocolate in hand. You tried your hardest to remain indifferent, you really did. But then he was pushing the beverage towards you with gentle eyes and his smile hopeful, telling you it was his treat because he noticed how hard you were studying. And then you were melting right along with the marshmallows in that mug.

The two of you talked about your majors, your families, your favorite shows, even Jimin. You asked about his tattoos and he explained them with ease. You also may have pulled out one of the oldest tricks in the book at the sight of his knuckle tattoos, gasping in feigned wonder when you pulled his hand against yours to measure the size difference.

His hand could swallow yours whole and still have some leftover, you discovered. It was a very rewarding experiment.

You made each other laugh and blush down to the very last second of his break. Scarily enough, being in each other's presence was so annoyingly addictive that you found yourself hesitant to watch him leave. You could tell Jungkook felt the same by the way he dragged out his goodbyes. I work again on Thursday, maybe I'll see you then? Your fingers brushed as he softly took the mug from you. It was really fun talking to you. You were biting your lip to keep from smiling embarrassingly big. You look really pretty today, by the way. And then he was off.

You made a strangled noise the second you were outside with your fingers frantically beginning to type a message to Jimin.

promise not to say i told you so :///

Jungkook asked you out on your fourth visit. As soon as you approached the counter, he just blurted it out. As if it was something he couldn't hold on his tongue any longer. You couldn't hear yourself say yes over your brain malfunctioning and the powerful thumping of your heart, but you knew you did. His heartbreakingly gorgeous grin told you so.

On his break, Jungkook brought you a latte with a heart carved in the cream. You just couldn't conceal the coo that escaped you, which quickly resulted in his cheeks reddening.

Cute, you thought.

He quizzed you on your personality and the type of activities you liked to do, admitting that he would use the information to conjure up the best date you would ever go on. Six days later, Jungkook stayed true to his word. Not only was it the best date you had ever been on, but you were completely certain it would ruin any other dates for you moving forward, unless they were with him. Much to your annoyance and also utter delight, you were so sure of Jeon Jungkook and your brief but striking time together that you kissed him. Right on the swings of your favorite childhood playground, first date rules tossed aside.

He was so caught off guard that his eyes expanded to twice their normal size and your teeth banged together. You drew back, slightly mortified and ready to jump to your death from the tallest slide on the playground, but Jungkook was huffing a laugh onto your lips and grabbing your face like it was nothing. Then you two got it just right, and something clicked. The earth fell off its axis and you were rendered breathless and all that nauseating cliché shit you chastised as a myth. And from that day forward, you two were completely, tooth-rottingly, inseparable.

"Easy," Jungkook proclaimed, pecking your lips. "We finished the tree."

He set you back on the floor gently, releasing a dramatic breath of air as if lifting you to place the star on top of the tree had actually winded him. As if he wasn't a muscle pig. You rolled your eyes and told him as much.

"Don't be a baby, muscle pig," You shoved at his bicep, only proving your point further when he didn't move an inch. ‘And I finished the tree.”

Instead, he caught the hand that you nudged him with and pulled your back to his chest, caging you between his arms. "Muscle pig, huh? That's what you think of me, baby?"

You flushed at the teasing lilt in his voice, suddenly very eager to escape his hold. But try as you might, he just wouldn't budge. A loud laugh left your throat as you flailed in his grasp, his muscled arms bulging in the turtleneck you bought him for his birthday a few months ago. Suddenly, you decided that you would be returning it for your own personal peace.

A high pitched whine left your mouth, one that lost all its seriousness once it was drowned out by your giggles. "Jungkook, let go of me!"

You would just not stop wiggling, and Jungkook could not stop laughing. He could live the rest of his life like this, his brain pauses to think. He's so happy.

And when you're thrashing so violently that your heel kicks his pocket with a force that has an object clattering onto the floor, Jungkook has never reacted faster in his life. Instantly your imprisonment is gone, and Jungkook is on your floor in a flash. Your eyebrows draw together at the sight of him scrambling for whatever it is, and all you're able to see is a sleek black case before he's quickly stuffing it back in his pocket.

You're eyeing him when he rises back on his feet. "Feel like sharing?"

Jungkook whistles noncommittally. "Not particularly, no."

There's a drawn-out beat of silence where you're just gazing at each other, neither one of you backing down. And then you're crossing your arms, and he's looking at your nose and your forehead and anywhere but your eyes, and then you're arching an eyebrow. He looks at you and breaks. Defeat.

"It's your present," He lets out a heavy sigh. "Well, the main one anyway."

You positively squeal. "Ooh! Can I see? Please?"

"Baby, it's the 20th."

"Can I have a hint?"

Jungkook blinks. "No, you cannot have a hint."

You're instantly pouting, but Jungkook expects that, because he knows you better than anyone else. Which is why he knows that you're a little spoiled, with a bit of a bratty streak, with just a dash of calculated charm that you use to your advantage to get just about anything you want. He's never seen it as a bad thing. In fact, he finds it cute. A little hot, too, if he's being truthful.

Anyway, he came prepared. Just as you're opening your mouth to no doubt make him spill the surprise, he's hushing you with a bruising kiss to your lips. The kind of kiss that makes you go pliant against him, the kind that makes you make a little noise in the back of your throat. The kind you've been waiting for all night.

It’s the trick that never truly runs its course.

And Jungkook is melting, too. Melting, turning to mush at your very feet, until you're moving backwards and clutching at his shoulders, ready to push him onto the couch.

"Mmm," He's humming against you, before he reluctantly draws back. He lets you chase his lips once, twice, before he chuckles lowly. "Hold on, angel."

You're suddenly feeling warm all over after his kisses, wanting nothing more than to cuddle into him into the couch and feel him next to you. Or maybe above you. With that chain you always tugged on dangling in your face. You really weren't picky.

You watched Jungkook break away from you and rummage through his bag with a frown and a newfound heat at the pit of your belly. "It can't wait?"

Like he said, he knows you, which means he knew kisses alone wouldn’t be able to satiate you nor get you to stop asking questions for the entire week. No matter how mind-numbing they may be.

"One second," He promised, and you definitely counted at least five, but he quickly found what he was looking for all the same. "I brought a surprise. Well, two surprises."

He was holding both of his hands behind his back with this stupid grin on his face. You squinted for a few seconds, suspicious, before breathing out a laugh. "Are you ever gonna show me?"

Jungkook looked way too happy with himself.

"The most important surprise is mistletoe, obviously. Gonna have to find a way to glue it on to the ceiling above your bed." And there was that mischievous little smile that told you he had every intention of carrying that out.

You folded your arms over your body and scoffed. Even if you were trying and failing to keep your lips from quirking up and possibly, maybe finding it a little harder to breathe all of a sudden. "You're unbelievable, Jeon."

He just winked and held up his other hand, pulling a gasp from your lips the second you realized what it was.

"The Polar Express!"

"I had to check like, four different stores in the mall to find it. That's why I got here a little late, by the way. But I thought we could make some hot chocolate like in the movie and watch it together and," Jungkook pauses to think, licking his lips. "There's a 'ride my train' joke in here somewhere but I don't know how to say it."

He's snorting at his own delivery before you are, and once your giggles permeate the air he's invading your space again with a lovesick smile.

"You are the sweetest boy," You praise, holding his pretty face with both hands and peppering small kisses all over it the way he secretly likes. "But you make me sick to my stomach sometimes."

If anything, this makes him smile even wider. "I love you too, baby."

You and Jungkook are in complete darkness besides the light coming from the TV in your room playing Polar Express. His head is on your shoulder with his arm strewn across your waist, and his entire leg slotted between yours. He's soft. He smells like the lavender body soap you keep in your shower. His gentle breaths hit your neck every time he exhales and you're now cliché enough to believe that the heart underneath you beats in tandem with yours.

Both of your stomachs are filled from the takeout he ordered for dinner and the peppermint hot chocolate you made while he was in the shower. You're still mentally replaying the moment he stepped back in your room, towel wrapped around his waist with droplets of water cascading down his body. His prominent abs and tattoos and wet hair had you scrambling to sit up, clearing your throat as you tasked yourself with handing him his mug. If he noticed you ogling him, he surely didn’t react to it.

Made us some cocoa, you said.

He brought the beverage to his nose and sniffed once, twice, before his entire face bunched up. Peppermint is nasty. Then he was gulping it down.

I thought it was nasty, you laughed in disbelief.

Nothing you make me can be nasty. Thank you, baby.

And now you’re thoroughly warm from the tips of your fingertips down to your toes, and you figure it has less to do with the cocoa and more with the way Jungkook so obviously loves you. The way you love him.

Feeling a tugging at your shirt, you look down to see him peering up at you with a dazed twinkle in his eye. "You're not hot in this?"

You purse your lips and pause, knowing what was coming. "No. Are you?"

He has the decency to look a little clueless. He was always doing that, in a playfully childish way you grew to love.

"Actually, yeah I am," Jungkook furrows his brows, like it was something he was just now realizing. And then he's sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head, and you're instantly staring at his back and remembering the way it feels to rake your fingers up and down it, and he's turning back to you with a lazy smirk. "You don't wanna take yours off, angel?"

You swallow. "I'm okay."

Jungkook starts to laugh, that cocky laugh that is equal parts douchebag-ish and sexy. He's most definitely turning you on and he most definitely knows this, which is why you're glaring at him until he reaches over you and picks up the mistletoe from your bedside desk. He dangles it over your heads, makes sure to wriggle his eyebrows suggestively when he does it, and you want to laugh, you really do. You would probably roll your eyes and call him a nerd too while you were at it, if it weren't for the way he was changing his position and starting to lean over you. Crowding your space in your favorite way.

Jungkook hears your breathing pick up once you're directly under him, watches the way your lips part and your eyes change for him, and decides to go for the kill.

Nothing about the kiss was soft or gentle. Jungkook clearly had a point to prove and knew how he wanted to do it. The dangling mistletoe was soon forgotten in favor of holding your face by your chin, landing with a chime on your wooden floors. He worked your mouth open in that sloppy, messy, dirty way he only exhibited when he was feeling particularly desperate. Saliva pooled at the corners of your mouth and you were trembling underneath him, clutching at the warm skin of his back. It was nasty, absolutely obscene the way his tongue was in your mouth like his life depended on it. And you loved it. You couldn't stop making these little sounds, and Jungkook was groaning into your mouth right along with you. You were seconds away from pleading for him to do anything he wanted, to make you his, when he's abruptly pulling from you with a wet pop and a string of saliva between you.

Your ragged breaths fill the air, both of your chests heaving as you take a second to attempt to drag yourself out of the haze he's built around you two.

The asshole has the audacity to laugh. "Hot yet?"

"You don't have to bring out the mistletoe to kiss me, you know." You eventually say instead.

"I know," He pants, still smiling like the all-consuming beauty he is. "But you love Christmas. And it's our first. Wanna do it right."

You feel the need to close your eyes, let his words sink in, and so you do. You let the statement blanket over you until you're positively beaming, and when you open your eyes, he is the same. You are so irreversibly in love and you think he might be perfect. You tell him as much.

"You're perfect," You say, all soft and starry eyed. You're nodding when he starts shaking his head, and when the tips of his ears begin to turn red and he's putting his head down, you're giggling and putting both hands on either side of his head to get his eyes back on yours. "I love you a lot."

Jungkook is so happy. "Love you most."

And then he's leaning down again. This kiss is much less frantic, more steady, but still passionate and still with Jungkook, which means it fills your body with heat all the same. Your head is floating and you're squirming under his hold again when you break apart for air.

There's no point in trying to resist him anymore. You never can.

"I'm gonna take my sweater off now."

Jungkook scrunches his nose, and grins. "Okay."

read part two here!

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #fluff #humor #jungkook fanfiction #jeongguk #kpop #kpop fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook series #jeongguk x reader

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years ago

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End of the Tunnel: IV

George Weasley x Reader

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING, mentions of suicide, cutting, language, angst!!!! (I’m very serious if this messes with your mind DO NOT READ).

MASTERLIST

***

Hannah had been living with him for three weeks. And what a three weeks it had been. There was never a dull moment living with George Weasley. One night she had shown up to a water gun fight and the next a candlelit dinner he had cooked almost entirely on his own (Hermione had been a bit of help where magic failed). He helped her clean after work whenever the shop didn’t keep him late. He held her until morning as they curled beneath the sheets of his drafty apartment, never hesitating to grab another one of his mother’s knitted blankets when she even so much as shivered. He was loving and kind and sweet. He laughed at her stories and even added a few tales from school of his own. He was never impatient when she struggled to understand some wizarding device she had not yet encountered (“It’s a bird of prey!”). Honestly, it had been the best three weeks of her life.

Everything seemed to be perfect until she was returning to his apartment one late night. The town drunk had refused to leave, escalating to a fight with one of her waiters, drawing in cops and a medic for the cuts and bruises left by shards of glass. When she pushed her key into the lock, she immediately knew something was wrong. Nothing was out of place and there was nothing profoundly disturbing, but the air hung like tragedy was waiting to strike.

“George,” she called into the house, jumping as her voice contrasted the heavy silence of the room. “George,” she called again, gently stepping towards the slightly ajar bathroom door. She stretched her hand forward and pushed it open, unable to stop the blood-curdling scream the escaped her throat when she found what was inside.

He was sitting in the bathtub with hair askew and a bottle of firewhiskey, mostly gone, resting in his hand. But that wasn’t what worried her, it was the thin cuts that traipsed up his arm like a morbid train track.

She was on her knees in a second, crouching over him as she sobbed.

“George, George, look at me,” she sobbed, and he glanced at her, tears mixing with the streak of blood across his cheek. He seemed so lost and afraid.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he whispered, and she shook her head, grabbing bandages and climbing into the bathtub as she cried. She straddled his waist and pulled him close. “You’re always home by midnight, but you didn’t come, I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought you were gone.” They both were sobbing now.

“No, I promised. I promised you I’d never leave, and I don’t break my promises,” she cried trying to bandage his wrists. He yanked them away to cover his face, but she held tight, tightly wrapping the gauze around the shallow cuts. They weren’t bleeding much, but every time she glanced at them her stomach churned, threatening to empty her rushed dinner from earlier in the evening. “George, look at me.” She placed a kiss to his forehead. “Please, I need you to look at me,” she cried and eventually, through the emotional turmoil he did so.

His eyes were red from the firewhiskey and puffy from the crying, face so full of sadness he looked like a child who had not received anything on a dreary Christmas morning. She ran his hands over his cheeks, softly wiping away the tears that had been shed.

“George, there was an accident at the bar, I had to stay a bit later to take care of it. I’m sorry,” she explained, and he nodded, tears still sliding down his cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do this to yourself,” she said ushering to his wrists, “You have to promise me, please George.” He halfheartedly nodded but she persisted. “George, I’m serious. I can’t lose you, not to something as terrible as this.” She was crying harder now, fingers pressing subconsciously into the fresh wounds.

“Hannah, I promise, I promise I won’t,” he told her, pulling her tight, sobering up with every second she remained within her presence. They didn’t move from the bathtub that night, holding one another until they fell asleep and woke up with cricks in their backs.

While the three weeks before that had been the best weeks of her life, that day had been the worst, far worse than anything the death eaters had managed to inflict upon her psyche. When they had woken up she had made him promise one more time.

That must have been why when she returned to the house in the middle of the day two weeks later she had been hysterics.

Just like that night she had opened the door, and this time there was no heavy tension in the air, only his body on the kitchen floor.

She heard screaming, harsh and shrill against the silence, and it wasn’t until it was filled with crying that she realized it was hers. It was her scream echoing against linoleum, shaking the dishes and rattling the silverware as she fell to his side. His name never left her lips as she shook his shoulder, praying to whatever god that would listen. She prayed he would wake up and that the blood would return to the two long cuts up either arm. It was a sea of blood, staining the grout and her nails as she tried to pull him into her arms. God it was everywhere, spread across the floor like the cruel slaughter it was. She didn’t want to look at it, but it was impossible to look away. It coated her hands and her arms, staining her blouse all the way down to her shoes. No one should have that much blood, it seemed impossible for someone to have so much. It seemed impossible that it was his, spread across the floor. It just couldn’t be possible, not him, not now, not when he had fucking promised. He had said he wouldn’t do it, he had fucking promised. He just kept slipping back to the tile, cold, heavy… lifeless. It was a wonder none of the neighbors came as she screamed for help, the silencing charms he had once placed on their home should have been nonexistent against the wails of despair that slipped from her lips until her throat ached.

“Wake up! Wake up! Please, I’m fucking begging you wake up!” she screamed until she was hoarse.

It seemed no one would come, no one would help her pick up the pieces that were spread across the floor like a cruel joke. The world was playing a cruel joke on her, by ending when everything had just been beginning. It wasn’t fair, there had to be a way, there just had to. He was a wizard god damn it.

And then suddenly she felt familiar arms wrap around her, holding her tight as she cried. At first she was sure it was just her imagination, until she managed to hear her name through her own cries.

“Hannah,” it called and she turned to find him standing there. She blinked, rubbing away the tears, pressing her hands to his face, just to ensure that it was actually him. He felt there and the way his breath brushed her cheek felt real. She glanced behind her, and the body was still there but it looked different somehow. The alive George pushed her behind him and pulled out his wand, pointing it at the dead version of himself and the body turned to a ball of energy before being banished the a trunk that shook with vigor once it was locked tight. “Hannah, it’s okay, look at me, it’s not real.” She looked down and the blood was gone. It was just her on the floor with George holding her.

“What, I, I don’t.”

“It was a boggart,” he consoled, wiping away her tears.

“A- a what?”

“It shows you your biggest fear. Nasty creatures, I can’t believe we have one this far out of the wizarding world.”

“Oh,” she whispered, turning towards where he had once lain., “I’m glad that’s all.” And with a sudden zeal she pulled him tight against her, breathing deeply what she had thought she had lost only moments ago. He offered her a weary smile and she returned with one of her own.

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow with Ron, but now you should get some sleep.” It felt like hours since she had found the figment of his body, but the sun was still high above them.

“I have to go to work,” she protested but he shook his head.

“No, you don’t. Call someone in, you’re exhausted,” he said, noting the way her shoulders stooped over when he released her. She nodded and he carried her to bed, climbing in beside her. Her arms wrapped around him tighter than they ever had.

That night he waited until she was asleep before sweeping through the kitchen in search of every knife in the place. He bagged them all, doing his best to not let them rattle against each other, and then he chucked them into the bin outside their home. The kitchen was clear of her fears and with a nod he climbed back into bed, if they really needed them he was sure Ron wouldn’t be opposed.

#george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley smut #george weasley angst #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley x reader angst #george weasley x reader fluff #george weasley x reader fanfiction #end of the tunnel

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just-a-fangirl13 · 4 years ago

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MacRiley fan-fic

This one is a classic. Probably wont happen but it was fun to write anyways!

Season 4 spoilers..... duh!

******************************

“Good night guys. Riles you coming?” said Mac with his usual smile leaving the war room followed by Desi and Bozer. Matty and Russ were still busy.

Mac had been wanting to tell Riley about his break-up with Desi but they had got the call from Matty.

Desi and he realised they were never going to work. The weird part was that he didn't feel heartbroken.

He had seen it coming for a while now, it was just a matter of finally ripping off the band-aid. Desi seemed fine too, she still nipped at him occasionally but they had managed to keep it professional for the whole mission. Desi was staying with him until she could get back her old apartment.

“No I have some stuff I need to do. Good night Mac.” said Riley with a tight lipped smile.

Mac raised his eyebrow at her. “Okay. Good night then. Call me if you need a lift anyways.” He and Des got into his car while Riley walked to the nearest bar.

The mission had been rough. Riley felt completely spent but she needed a drink. It was Friday night and she was all alone. She let that sink in. At the rate she was going she was going to die alone too.

**************

Mac’s phone buzzing woke him up. It was 1 am. It had been barely 2 hours since they got back.

“Why won't criminals just take a day off.” said Mac half asleep, groaning as he reached for his phone.

He read the caller id fulling expecting it to be Matty. But it wasn't.

All the sleepiness drained right out of him. It was Riley.

“Hello? Riles? What’s going on is everything okay?” said Mac already getting up, fully alert now and trying to make as little noise as possible so as to not wake Desi up in the adjoining room.

Mac could here loud music in the background. What the hell was going on?

“Hey Mac. I need a ride.”

**************************

Mac found Riley outside The Bar. Riley was drunk and she was standing all alone outside at the entrance when she had called. Mac drove over as fast as he could. His heart racing the whole time.

He pulled up to where she was standing. Silently thanking the universe that she was okay.

“Riles? Are you okay” said Mac with deep concern on his face.

Riley nodded but swayed on her feet. Mac caught her.

“Okay lets get you home.”

Mac got Riley in the passengers seat and buckled her up. He had just started up the car when Riley mumbled.

“I’m sorry. I'm so so sorry” and tears started rolling down her face. Mac’s heart broke a little. Why had he not gone with her? What if something had happened to Riley? What if he had somehow missed her call?

“Riles. You dont have anything to be sorry for. It’s okay. Its a best friends duty to pick up them up especially when they get drunk. Today’s mission was hard on all of us.” said Mac with a smile. It really was the least he could do for her. She had put everything on the line when she had come to his rescue. She was always there. The one true constant in his life. The one person he could count on.

Riley just went on apologising until a minute later she had closed her eyes and fallen asleep. Mac looked over at her a few times. She seemed so peaceful. He had been so caught up with Desi, Codex and Phoenix that he hadn't even paid attention to what was going on with Riley. Something was definitely eating at her. He was hoping he could have talked to her today, tried to get to the bottom of things.

Riley had seemed a little distant lately. He didn't even blame her. He had no idea what was going on with her, but for now he would be there for her just like she was for him.

Mac pulled over outside Riley’s apartment. He didn't want to wake Riley up but he couldn't help it.

“Riles,” Mac whispered. “I need you to wake up now. Please.”

Riley opened her eyes slowly. He helped her out of the car and grabbed her bag. It was a good thing he knew she kept her keys in the tiny zipper in her favourite bag which she was also carrying right now.

He opened the apartment door and helped Riley in. He set her down on her bed and took off her boots. Riley was half asleep and was really out of it.

He tucked her in and was about to switch off the small bedside lamp when Riley reached for his arm.

“Hey Mac” she slurred a bit while talking,”Thanks for picking me up. Your a good friend you know. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Mac smiled. Even half drunk Riley was still thinking about him. He brushed out a few strands of hair out of her face and turned off the light.

“Good night Riles.” said Mac leaving the room.

“Love you, Mac” says Riley before cuddling into her covers and falling straight asleep.

Mac froze at the door, his heart pounding.

He had misheard her right? But he found himself hoping he hadn't.

It hit him like lightning. He loved Riley too, didn't he? Deep down he always had.

He had told himself that he had held her hand when that missile was about to hit them because he wanted Riley to know he was sorry. Sorry that he couldn't save her. But it was more than that,wasn't it?

He had loved her.

Mac smiled to himself. He was such an idiot. How had he not seen it sooner. Not seen what was right in front of him the whole time.

But he wouldn't say anything until he knew for sure.

**********

The next morning Riley woke up to the worst hangover. Maybe even worse than the one that Mac’s alcohol breaking down drug had given her when he, Leanna, Bozer and she were undercover.

She dragged herself to the shower and got changed which is when it registered that she could smell pancakes. What the hell?

“Good morning sleepy head.” said Mac a little too loudly. Riley winced.

Mac was cooking.... Pancakes... In her kitchen... In her house....

She looked over at her sofa and saw a blanket draped on it.

“Hope you dont mind. I crashed here after last night just incase you needed me.”

“No of course I dont mind. I’m just really hazy on what happened last night.” said Riley rubbing her head.

Mac placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her along with a plate of chocolate chip pancakes.

“You dont remember anything?” asked Mac trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. “You got really drunk last night and called me to ask if I could give you a ride home. You were really out of it.” said Mac with smile.

Bits and pieces came rushing back as she took a seat at the kitchen island. She had gone to the bar and had one drink after another and had completely lost track. She remembered contemplating calling Mac and then sitting in his car. She couldn't remember if she said anything. What if she told him about her feelings. Oh no no no no. Rileys mind was going into overdrive.

“Oh god Mac. I’m so sorry. I probably ruined you and Desi’s night. Im such an idiot. I dont even remember what I was thinking.”

“Hey hey its okay Riles. Besides Desi and I aren't dating anymore.” said Mac.

Woah. It was really taking her a while to process things.

“I’m sorry to hear that Mac. I feel like such a terrible friend. I didn't even notice something was up.” said Riley. Gosh when had she become such a mess.

“It was a long time coming. Desi and I just weren't right for each other. We both knew it, but we were hanging on to the relationship because it was familiar I guess.” said Mac.

Riley just silently nodded. Her mind was spinning.

“Anyways” said Mac smiling, “try the pancakes. I need to know if they are any good.”

Riley eyed the plate remembering Mac’s track record with cooking. She could feel Mac’s gaze on her so she tried it.

“Okay wow. These are actually really good.” said Riley. Mac laughed, ”Mission Accomplished. You have to tell Bozer they were good, okay? He won't believe me if I say it.”

Riley and Mac sat there eating chocolate chip pancakes, laughing. Riley felt like all the problems in the world just fell away.

***************

Riley was helping Mac clear up even though he had insisted he would do it on his own. There was still that worry that she had said something to Mac nagging her. He seemed alright. A little chirpy but happy.

“Mac. Last night. I didn't say anything stupid right?” said Riley washing the plate and handing over the last one to Mac to dry it since he had insisted.

“Why?” asked Mac a curious look on his face. “Was there something I needed to know?”

“Nope no reason. I was just really out of it yesterday. Just curious if I said anything.” said Riley relief washing over her.

“Well there was one thing I wanted to talk to you about actually.” said Mac putting the last plate away.

“Riles, I’m sorry Ive been such a terrible friend to you lately. I..just.. with everything going on with Codex and Desi.. i..never even bothered to check in on you. I had no idea why you were being distant until I realised last night that you were probabaly drunk because you felt like you couldnt talk to me. You’ve always been there no matter what and I couldn't even return the favour. I'm so sorry.”

Mac looked so stressed. He really thought it was his fault she was avoiding him.

Oh god what had she done. The exact reason she didn't want to tell Mac the truth was so she didnt hurt him but seeing him like this broke her heart. She loved him so much it physically hurt sometimes.

“Mac. Its not your fault. It has nothing to do with-” Riley stopped herself. She had nothing to lose right? She should just tell him. No more lies or secrets.

Mac looked up searching her face. She wasn't meeting his eye and she was fidgeting with her hands.

Could it be possible that Riley was distancing herself from him because of what she said last night? Could it really be true?

"Before you say anything, there is something you should know." said Mac. This was it. He felt brave all of a sudden.

"You said something last night. I mean I could have misheard you but it sounded you like you said you love me. Is that what this about?" Mac sounded so nervous.

Riley was shocked. She had said it last night. Oh god what if he didnt feel the same way?

"I- Mac- I am so sorry. I just- You were dating Desi and I just broken up with Aubrey and I just had to-"

Before Riley could finish Mac kissed her. And she kissed him back.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. " said Mac smiling. "I'm such an idiot. It took me so long to see what was in front me this whole time."

Mac held Rileys hand in his and they started at each other and smiled. They were in their own happy bubble.

#macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis #cbs #macgyver cbs #cbs macgyver #fanfic #macgyver fandom

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smytimagine · 5 years ago

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“The Assistant” Part IV: It’s Always Been You

Warnings: swearing, smut, fluff- hints at eating issues

Word Count: 5,311

A/N: Guys I’ve gotten pretty soft on Ethan lately, what is that about?! I started this story with totally different intentions, but that seems to be changing

Sorry this took so long! I was so hesitant to post it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

____________

The sun started to set over the horizon as I dug my toes deeper into the sand, pulling them up every so often to watch the sand run off and in between them. Lisa and Cam were walking along the beach taking in the last bit of daylight and Alyana had dragged Grayson away the minute we got here to take pictures of herself for Instagram.

I looked up from my feet and noticed Ethan sitting slightly in front of me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees letting the sun silhouette his face perfectly. I leaned back on my hands and just admired him for a minute while he stared out at the ocean, seemingly lost in thought. I realized how selfish I was to have spent the last 24 hours agonizing over the loss of someone I never had, all the while this wonderful man was right in front of me the whole time and never wavered. He had always been there for me, since day one. My biggest cheerleader and closest friend. Sure, Grayson was there too, but things seemed like they weren’t going to always be that way with him. I started to realize that I may one day lose Ethan too. Eventually, he will get a girlfriend and I really will be just their assistant.

I reached forward and grabbed his wrist. He broke his stare and glanced back in my direction, his face lighting up when he saw me batting my eyelashes at him. Something I always did before asking him to snuggle.

“Come sit back here, I’m cold” I lied and patted the sand beside me. He knew I wasn’t cold, I had my knees tucked into the hoodie he let me borrow, with the hood pulled up over my head

He laughed and scooted back so he was sitting next to me. He wrapped his arm around me as I leaned against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his side. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, he had returned his stare to the ocean while I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent, and the feeling of his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths.

“I don’t ever want to forget this moment E, I don’t want to wake up one day and not have you in my life,” I broke the silence as I spoke barely audibly

He pulled away slightly and lifted my chin up to look at him, concern written on his face “Why would you say that? Y/N/N I’m not going anywhere” His eyes moving back and forth between mine as he ran his thumb just under my lip

“I don’t know, I can just feel things changing. Things are going to start to change in relationships and I’m not sure where I’ll fit into all of that. Grayson made it pretty clear today that I’m his assistant, not even his friend” I replied, trying my best not to sound weak.

“Well, you are our assistant…” as he started, I moved my eyes away from his as I tried to pull my face away from his grip, I didn’t want to look at him while he agreed with Grayson.

“…but you’re so much more than that. I know you don’t ever give yourself a second thought, but you are so much more than words can express. You’re my best friend. You’re amazing. Anyone who can’t see that is stupid” he continued.

As I looked back at him, our eyes met, he leaned in and touched his forehead to mine. I had a sudden urge to kiss him but I held off. If my relationship with Grayson was strained, I wasn’t about to fuck up the only strong one I have left.

Closing his eyes he sighed as he continued “He may be my brother, but he is a complete moron for not wanting to be in my place right now,” he softly placed a peck on my forehead. I melted at the feeling as his lips lingered on my skin. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t bring myself to just cross that line with him. Being with Ethan would be so easy. Sure, we bicker sometimes, but one of us is always crawling back to the other one with puppy eyes shortly after. I guess I was always scared to ruin something so great. I’d rather keep things the way they were now than not have him at all if it went wrong.

He took my hand and interlaced his fingers with mine, I leaned against his shoulder again as we watched the sun making its last kiss of light over the ocean.

____________

Cam POV

Mom and I had gone for a walk once we got to the beach. Sure we had beaches in New Jersey, but there was something different about California. We never passed up a chance to head to Malibu when the boys asked us to go.

The sun was just starting to set and we decided to head back towards the group before it got dark.

“Cameron is that Gray and… oh crap, what’s her name again?” Mom asked as she turned to me with a grimaced face

“Clout Chaser Barbie? Yea I think that’s them, I’d say let’s go catch up to them, but I’d really rather not” I replied looking up to where my mom was motioning.

“Yeah, well she isn’t what I would have picked for my son, but we have to play nice for Gray, he deserves our support so he knows we’ll pick him up when this falls apart”

I couldn’t help but laugh. My mom made even the nastiest comments sound sweet. We continued our walk back when I caught a glimpse of something that stopped me in my tracks, Ethan and Y/N snuggled into each other staring out at the ocean. I nudged my mom to stop and look in their direction.

“Look at that, how perfect are they?” Mom said sighing while a smile crept across her face

“Pretty perfect, but they’ll never let it go there. E wants her to be happy, even if it’s not with him.” I shrugged. Everyone knew they were perfect for each other, even if they didn’t realize it yet.

“I think he could make her happy, I think he already does. They’re just both scared of what that could change” She assured herself, leading the way back up the beach.

____________

Grayson POV

Alyana had dragged me over to the pier when we got to the beach, it was golden hour and she wanted me to take some new pictures of her for her Instagram. I have to admit, this wasn’t what I had planned when decided to come here. I wanted to spend time with my mom and sister since I only got to see them once in a while. But, here I am, watching her take her 1,000th selfie, I guess this is my life now.

Y/N had stayed up on the sand with Ethan. I have no idea what has gotten into them both, but since when does Ethan stay at Y/N’s house when she isn’t feeling well? Sure, we have brought her over soup and smoothies when she has been sick before, but never once have we ever stayed the night.

I looked around surveying the beach from the pier, trying to figure out where everyone went. I spotted Mom and Cam walking back along the water line. I scanned up the sand and found Y/N and Ethan, faces pressed together. Did they just kiss?! What the actual fuck is happening right now... A sudden sick feeling fell over me

“Hey babe, you okay?” Alyana asked barely breaking eye contact with her screen

“Oh, uh, y-yeah I think so, why?” I managed to stammer out as I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck trying to shake off the bizarre feeling.

“All of a sudden you got really pale” she replied, holding up her phone to take her next photo

“I think I’m just hungry. Maybe we should go see if everyone is ready for dinner?” I lied.

I mean it wasn’t a total lie, I’m always hungry. But to be honest, I wasn’t sure what I felt. I just witnessed my brother kiss my best friend who is also our assistant, and I hated it. Ethan and Y/N have always been super close, we all have. But he should know better than to cross that line with her. This is going to fuck everything up for us. When they break up she will leave us. Not only will we be out an assistant, but we’ll lose our best friend.

Here I was with my beautiful girlfriend, who is a model, so surely that was why I felt sick about all of this right? How irresponsible of them. A new feeling of anger replaced the sickness I had just felt as Alyana and I made our way back from the pier.

____________

Y/N POV

The sun had all but completely disappeared over the ocean when everyone had met back up to where Ethan and I were sitting.

Ethan stood up, brushed himself off, and then held out his hand to help me up. Just as I reached up to grab his hand, Grayson walked in between us, and I fell back onto the sand landing on my butt.

“Oh, sorry,” Grayson glanced over his shoulder, not stopping to help

“Uh, that’s cool Bro, no big deal” Ethan tried to breeze past the moment as he helped me up brushing the sand off of my back.

What the hell was that about? I thought while brushing myself off, unable to ignore the obviousness of the situation. There’s no way he didn’t see Ethan’s hand out

“Where do you guys want to eat?” Lisa asked trying to break the growing tension

“Gray and I know this great place we take Y/N all the time, we could go there?” Ethan suggested. Everyone nodded in agreement, except Grayson, who had grabbed Alyana’s hand and was practically running up the sand towards his car.

The rest of us tried to shrug it off and followed up the sand towards Ethan’s Jeep.

“Hey Gray, we’ll meet you guys there?” Ethan double-checked with Grayson before we got into separate cars.

“Yeah, whatever bro” Grayson grumbled back

I looked over at Ethan to see if he had just heard the same tone I did. He returned my look with slightly furrowed brows and a shrug

Grayson closed the passenger door after letting Alyana in, looked over at the Jeep where Ethan was opening the passenger door for me, groaned and got into his car. l couldn’t help but divert my attention over to the blue Porsche, unsure of what was up with Grayson as I climbed into the passenger seat.

“Okay does anyone know what the hell that was?!” Cam broke the silence as we drove out of the parking lot. Ethan let out a chuckle as his hand found its usual spot on my thigh, I rested my hand over his as we all shrugged and shook off the moment. If there was anything the four of us were used to, it was Grayson’s mood swings. He should be over it by the time we all arrived at the restaurant.

____________

When we got to the restaurant we had somehow arrived before Grayson and Alyana, even though we all left at the same time. We were waiting outside when a heated Grayson was hightailing it to the door with a less than happy Alyana behind him.

“Oh, shit” I whispered to Ethan

I guess he’s not over it

“I don’t think we even want to know” he replied holding the door for me to enter the restaurant, both of us oblivious to what Grayson was actually upset about.

I was so happy Ethan chose a place I was so comfortable at. We came here all the time after a long day of work. It wasn’t the fanciest place in the world, but that’s why we loved it so much.

They sat us in a semi-private room. This was something we were all used to because the twins never got to eat peacefully in public. Sure, they loved their supporters, but they also loved food. Having an uninterrupted dinner was always the preference when we could get it.

I went to sit down when a chair was pulled out for me. I looked to my left to see Ethan winking with a smirk. I sat down as he pushed it in, then took the seat beside me.

Grayson sat down across from us but did not look in our direction. I had no idea what the heck had gotten into him all of a sudden. Earlier this week we were laughing over avocado toast and now today he’s telling Ethan I’m basically just their assistant, and won’t even look at me.

We each ordered our dinner and were having a great time, laughing and catching up, Ethan Cam and I shooting our straw wrappers at each other while Grayson and Alyana pretty much ignored the rest of the table.

“Hey Gray, can you pass the rolls?” I asked.

“Do you really need to eat anymore carbs?” she spoke under her breath

The table fell silent. I mean how could it not? She wasn’t exactly whispering. I looked over at her and then back to Grayson, who sat blank-faced at the comment as if he never heard it. I don’t know what I expected. I guess I thought he wouldn’t let anyone speak to his best friend like that, but then I remembered I didn’t know what we were anymore.

“Hey, new girl. Watch your fucking mouth” A voice spoke up from the opposite end of the table. I broke my stare at Grayson to look to my right finding Cam pushing back from the table removing her napkin from her lap as Lisa grabbed her.

“It’s okay Cam, let it go” I tried to calm her down by flashing her a smile. She knew it was fake, she could always see through my bullshit, but she sat down clenching and relaxing her fists under the table. At least someone was standing up for me

Ethan grabbed the basket of rolls and handed them to me. I took them trying my best to smile in return but placed it down to the other side of me, deciding against them.

I was never one to turn down food. Whenever the boys and I went out I never hesitated to order a burger and fries and chow down. I worked extremely hard on my physique and felt like I should reward myself once in a while. Never once did I feel low about my appearance until now.

I stared down at the remainder of my fries and pushed the plate away from me, reaching for my water to satisfy any remaining hunger I had felt. I was lost in my own thoughts staring into my glass when I felt a hand wrap over my thigh. I looked to my left to find Ethan eating with his left hand but grinning about our little secret. I placed my hand on top of his, squeezing lightly. Sometimes I swear he could read my mind.

The rest of dinner was one big awkward silence. Alyana decided she would keep her mouth shut as to not mess with Cam who kept death staring her while stabbing her knife into her left over cheeseburger. I would catch Lisa smiling at Ethan and I every once in a while. It didn’t catch me totally off guard. I knew that Lisa loved how Ethan and I were together. We had both tried to make it pretty clear to her that we were just friends, but I’m not sure she had let that ship sail yet.

Grayson had spent most of the dinner staring down at his plate or shooting eye daggers at Ethan. I couldn’t figure out what his issue was. I knew he thought it was weird Ethan stayed at my place last night, but usually they never let a disagreement last this long. Is that what he’s still mad about?

I wasn’t even sure Ethan had noticed. When Ethan was eating not much else could hold his attention. The room could be in flames around him and he probably wouldn’t notice. Or maybe, he was so used to Grayson throwing temper tantrums he was just really good at ignoring them.

____________

After dinner, Ethan had invited me back to the house to hang out and relax with his mom and sister. I felt slightly weird about it because of how this evening had already gone, but I tried to never pass up a chance to hang out with Lisa and Cam since we saw them so infrequently. As we pulled up the driveway and parked, Grayson was pulling up. Alone

I flashed him an innocent smile as he got out of the car, to a stone face in return.

I followed everyone else inside, followed by Grayson who stayed silent and disappeared down the hall once we entered the house.

“Should we go sit by the fire? Try this evening again?” Ethan suggested placing his hand on my lower back to lead us outside.

____________

We had all been sitting around the fire for about an hour, our faces hurting from laughter at stories Lisa was telling of the twins as kids. Ethan and I had snuggled up on the bench under a blanket. Grayson had decided to join us shortly after we got the fire going, I figured for his mom and sister’s company. Grayson might have been hot-headed, but he was a family man. His family always came first. He used to include me in that group, but I’m not so sure now. When he didn’t stick up for me at dinner, I was pretty sure that was all that needed to be said there.

He had been checking his phone non-stop since he sat down, obviously waiting for Alyana to text him, which it would seem she hadn’t. In between glances to his phone, he would fix his stare at Ethan and me. I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking about. It almost seemed like he was staring through us. I wanted so badly to call him out on his behavior, but what was I supposed to say?

Grayson had some flings here and there over the last couple of years, but he had never had a girlfriend he considered serious enough to introduce to everyone, so I had no idea if this is just how he was going to be in a relationship. Either way, that had nothing to do with Ethan and me.

____________

Lisa had headed to bed a while ago, the rest of us thinking about doing the same.

“Well, I should probably go. If it gets any later I’ll be too tired to even drive” I said pulling the blanket off of my lap and standing up to head back inside.

“Just stay here” Ethan suggested, eyes fixated on the fire

I had stayed at the twin’s house many times after a late night, usually crashing on the couch or the guest bed, but I knew they would both be taken with their mom and sister staying there as well

“I wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep, and as much as I love Cam, she snores” I laughed looking over at Cam

“Hey! Fuck you Y/N/N!” she laughed throwing her empty cup at me

“You can stay with me.” He mumbled, breaking his glance to look over in my direction

I looked back at Ethan unsure if I had heard his suggestion correctly

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose” I asked nervously. As close as Ethan and I were, we had never shared a bed.

“Ethan, don’t be fucking stupid, she doesn’t want to sleep with you” Grayson blurted out. A look of disgust on his face.

“Grayson, don’t you need to go call your girlfriend? Your phone has been awfully quiet since we got home” Ethan pushed back

“Y/N you can either sleep on the other couch next to Cam, or you can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. You’re not sleeping with Ethan. How stupid of an idea is that?” Grayson almost demanded throwing his hands around while he spoke.

For some reason I felt like I had to obey. Although we were all used to his moods, I found Grayson extremely intimidating, when he raised his voice, I usually listened.

“I guess I’ll take the couch then Gray... thanks for the offer though” I stammered, surprised he even addressed me directly after avoiding me all day.

He nodded looking smug about his interference.

____________

Grayson and Cam had headed to bed while Ethan and I stayed by the fire a while longer. As much as I loved everyone else, I loved these quiet moments with Ethan even more.

“Let’s play truth or dare” he spoke after a while of just listening to the fire crackle and the crickets chirping around us

“Really E? It’s just the two of us, how fun can that be?” I laughed taking another sip of my drink

“Oh, it can be really fun” he winked

“Ugh, fine you dork, you go first” I gave in, placing my drink down and waving him off

“Okay Y/N/N, truth or dare” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows

“Truth”

“Of course you’d pick truth, because you’re afraid of what my dare would be” he threw his head back and chuckled

“Oh just shut up and ask your question” I replied, though he was right. If you ever play a game of truth or dare with the Dolans, always choose truth. Those two can come up with some crazy dares.

“Okay...” He sat forward leaning on his knees “ You didn’t eat the rolls tonight at dinner because Alyana made you feel bad about yourself” he said, more matter of factually than questioning, already sure of my answer

I have to admit I was caught slightly off guard about his question. I was hoping no one had noticed that I didn’t actually take any when Ethan handed me the basket

“Ummm” I tried to come up with a lie, avoiding his strong eye contact

“Y/N... don’t lie to me” he said sharply. By his tone I could tell he was irritated, maybe not at me directly, but at the memory of dinner.

“Okay, yes I let her get to me. How was I not supposed to when Grayson just sat there with no expression, letting her talk to me like that? I kind of figured if he didn’t say anything he must agree. How is that not supposed to make me feel like shit?” I confessed, leaning my head down avoiding his judgement.

Ethan stood up from where he was sitting across from me and came over to stand in front of me. He knelt down and took my hands in his, pulling my gaze up to meet his eyes

“You are absolutely beautiful. Don’t let some clout chaser make you feel anything other than that. I love watching you eat... not in a creepy way, but you’re confident. We all know you work really hard to stay in shape. I love that you treat yourself. I don’t ever want to go out with you and have you afraid to eat. Okay?” He said calmly trying to reassure me, brushing away a stray hair that had fallen into my eyes

“...okay E” I whispered

“Promise me Y/N/N” he insisted as he furrowed his eyebrows in concern

“Okay E I promise... now please stand up. It’s my turn” I tried to change the subject. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his sincerity, but I was embarrassed at how I let that stupid girl make me feel at dinner and I’d rather forget it.

He chuckled standing up to move back to his seat. “Okay, hit me”

“Alright. Ethan, truth or dare” I knew he would pick dare. Dolan’s never turned down a dare. And to be honest, I didn’t have a truth question for him.

“Obviously dare” he replied

*phew*

“Okay, E....” I looked around the yard trying to figure out what to dare him. “I dare you to jump in the pool. With all your clothes on” I raised an eyebrow looking back at him.

He shrugged and stood up heading towards the pool. I quickly followed behind.

“It would have been better if you said naked” he laughed

I rolled my eyes, I was practically asking for that response

“But I have a request first” he added turning back around

“I’m not sure that’s how this works but what is it?” I asked

“I need a hug. I miss you” he stuck his bottom lip out trying to make me feel bad

I walked towards his open arms “You’re such a dork, how could you miss....AHHHHH” my sentence was cut off as he grabbed me and flung us both into the pool

I gasped for air when I reached the surface of the water, looking around the dark pool for Ethan but didn’t find him

“ETHAN! WHY DID YOU DO THAT! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” I yelled seemingly into the abyss as I was quickly dunked back under the water

I swam back up grabbing him in the process, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time

“Why did you do that!” I yelled at him laughing, slapping his wet shoulder with my heavily soaked hoodie sleeve

“It was fun!” he laughed splashing me trying to avoid another shot

“Well I don’t have a change of clothes now you ass” I scoffed looking down at my wet clothes

“Oh, because you weren’t going to raid my closet anyway?” He asked smirking, hopping out by the ledge of the pool and reaching back down to help me

“I guess you’re right, but you’re still an ass” I shrugged and reached up to let him help me out.

____________

He interlaced his wet hand with mine as we slunk as quietly as we could past Cameron through the house. We both knew if Grayson saw us dripping water all over the floor he would kill us, I prayed he would stay in his room. Odds were good he was on the phone talking sweet nothings to his stick figure girlfriend.

I giggled as Ethan flung me past him through the door way as he closed the door behind me. He took off his sopping wet shirt and then turned around to find me in a staring match with his wet half naked body

“Hey Y/N/N? You okay?” he laughed, bowing his head to try to catch my eyes

I felt my face heat up

“Uh, yeah yeah I’m good.” I tried to look away and get distracted by literally anything else.

Ethan smirked at my embarrassment “Well, I’ll probably hop in the shower, if you want you can shower after me, just pick out whatever you want from the closet while you wait” he kissed my cheek as he walked into the bathroom turning over his shoulder to add “I’m glad I can get you to blush too”

My eyes followed him into the bathroom, since when do I blush at Ethan’s body? Since when do I watch him walk away like I’ve never seen him before?

I sat down on the bed listening to him turn the shower on. Lost in my new found thoughts I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with them

Before I could even think about it I found my feet carrying me to the bathroom door. I jiggled the handle to see if it was unlocked and was happily surprised to find it was. Was he hoping I would come in?

I opened the door and found Ethan in the shower letting the water run over him. The glass shower walls left little to the imagination. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet, so I took the moment to really admire the man in front of me as he stood under the water running his hand through his hair. He was literal perfection.

I walked over to the shower and opened the door, still clothed I moved forward and wrapped my arms under his arms and placed my hands on his chest. He brought his hands up to mine

“I was hoping you’d come” He confessed

“You wanted me to?” I asked, pecking his shoulder blade while I rested my forehead on his back

“Yes” He replied, turning to face me. His eyes stared through mine as water poured over the both of us. He lifted his hand to the side of my face and ran his thumb over my cheek. His eyes raced between mine and my lips. I opened my mouth slightly, sure of what I wanted him to do next, but unsure if he would.

He leaned in and I felt his soft lips touch mine tenderly. I kissed him back as I brought my hand up to the back of his neck pulling him down into me more. Deepening the kiss his tongue begged at my lips for entry, to which I granted, a small moan leaving my throat. He pushed me up against the wall of the shower as he reached for the hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it up over my head throwing it down in a wet heap on the shower floor.

A moan escaped my lips as he moved his mouth from mine down my neck to my breasts, heaving under his touch. I watched the water bead off of his back as he worked his way down my body leaving soft kisses in his wake. When he reached the hem of my jeans he fumbled with the button, looking up at me for approval. I nodded, leaning my head against the wall as he kissed my hip bones.

He unbuttoned my jeans and slid his hands down both sides of my hips shimmying my jeans down to the floor, leaving me in a black lacy bra and underwear.

He stood back up, returning his soft lips to mine “You are so beautiful. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this” he said

“Show me” I practically begged between kisses.

I reached around and unclasped my bra and let it fall off my arms to the floor. His hands moving to cup my breasts then moving up to pin my arms above my head as he again laid a trail of kisses down from my neck, stopping to nibble and suck gently on each nipple.

I couldn’t help but pull my now unrestrained hand down to grab into his hair. Pulling his head back slightly to make his eyes meet mine while his bottom lip still pulled against the skin of my stomach, had me aching between my legs for his touch.

He hooked his thumbs through the sides of my panties, grabbing the front between his teeth. As he took his time moving them down he kissed every new inch of exposed skin, lingering when he reached my wet core.

When my panties finally fell to the floor he stood back up forcefully lifting me by the back of my thighs to wrap my legs around his waist.

“Are you sure you want to do this” he asked, burying his head into the crook of my neck, sounding needy and desperate

“Yes, please E. I want all of you” I reassured him, digging my nails slightly into the back of his neck while the other hand clung to his back.

He aligned our bodies and entered me slowly, letting me adjust to his size. I leaned my head back against the wall, eyes rolling into the back of my head, letting a soft moan leave my throat

“Are you okay?” he asked softly

“Yes, God yes. I want you so bad E” I whined trying to push myself onto him to feel him completely.

When he pushed himself all the way in another moan left my throat, this time joined with his own gutteral grunt.

I leaned my head forward, meeting his forehead with mine as he quickened his pace moving roughly in and out, stretching me to my limit and then pulling almost all the way out before ramming in again.

I gripped his shoulders tightly as my moans and screams of his name became uncontrollable. The grunts and moans that came from him only turned me on more. He had always been so gentle with me, this side of him was so sexy.

“Ethan, I’m gonna... I’m almost there” I managed to squeak out as I neared my peak, my toes curling behind his back

“Yes baby, do it, cum for me... God you are so beautiful” He spoke between thrusts

As I I hit my peak and rolled my head back against the wall, I dug my nails into Ethan’s shoulders and tightened my core around his cock. While I rode my high he started to quicken his pace even more. I could tell he was almost there because his thrusts became sloppy and his moans became breathy and desperate.

“I’m on birth control E, I want you to fill me” I whispered in his ear between his moans. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes as he thrusted again, drawing a moan from both of us.

His body caved as he gently put my feet back on the ground and wrapped his arms around my waist, leaning his head to rest on my shoulder as he stood in front of me.

“Be with me” he finally spoke

“I am E, I’m right here” I tried reassuring him as I smoothed his wet hair back

“No, Y/N, be with me... be my girl” he lifted his head to meet my eyes, placing a soft kiss on my lips

I took a moment to just watch how the water beaded off of his eyebrow, leading its way down his face to his chest. I brought my hand up to trace the droplet with my finger. When I brought my eyes back to his I nodded.

“Is that a yes?” he asked smiling

“Yes, Ethan. I know you thought it was Grayson. But I realized today at the beach that it’s you. It’s always been you E”

He lifted me up and spun me around making me giggle before he put me down

“You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that. I promise I will make you happy every day. I want to be the man you deserve” he said placing his forehead to mine, lacing his fingers into my hair at the base of my neck

“You already are Ethan”

________________

A/N: Guys I am so sorry if this sucked! I’ve been wanting to write this chapter for so long but I suck at smut!

Tag List: @graydolan12

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfic #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins fanfic #Ethan Dolan Fluff #Ethan Dolan Smut

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