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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

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The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children

But now we've stepped into a cruel world

Where everybody stands and keeps score

So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard

Every lesson forms a new scar

They never thought you'd make it this far

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Summary: Planning for something in theory is easy... putting it into practice? That’s where the weak are separated from the strong.

A/n: Hello my lovelies! So here is the second part to the last chapter!! If I had posted it all at once it would have been over 20k words so... yeah. I split them up. Also, this gets pretty dark and well, we all know how HBP ends... so I guess that’s a warning. And to add, this went in a completely different direction than I planned, but now it’s closer to my original idea so... Let me know what you guys think! Seriously, I thrive on your approval. (Also, I’d like to see if someone notices a MAJOR problem for these two kids... because I barely caught it myself)

“Oh, my darling boy,” Narcissa crooned, nearing Draco’s bedside. She took his hand though he was in a spell induced coma and could not hear her.

“I’m so sorry Narcissa,” I teared up. “I...”

“Snape explained it all my dear,” She consoled, reaching out for me. “You have nothing to apologize for,”

I all but collapsed in her arms, breaking down into tears as she held me. Though Abby and Pansy—as well as many others including Ernie, Blaise, Greg, Vincent, and Hannah—had comforted me and offered me a solace, it was different having a mother there to hold me and tell me it was going to be alright.

“It was awful,” I sniveled. “I thought... I thought...” I began to hiccup with the lack of oxygen due to my tears.

Narcissa shushed me softly and rubbed my back in a soothing rhythm.

“You’re alright darling,” Her voice was gentle. “Everything’s going to be alright,”

She stayed for the remainder of the night and came back the next day. I was only allowed a day off from classes before I had to return though Draco had still not woken. Though I knew there would be rumors and whispers, and though I expected to have to retell the harrowing story again and again, everyone already seemed to know. And more surprisingly, each student I came across was sympathetic and kind to me and even towards Draco, wanting to know how he was faring. Yet the thing that took me back the most was the amount of Gryffindors who offered their sympathies to Draco, rather than siding with their own Golden Boy. Even McGonagall offered her sympathies.

And for the most part, I completely ignored Harry. The best I could. Which... well. I’d like to say that I did, but I can’t. To be fair, he did try to talk to me on my first day back, two days after his attempted murder.

“Y/n,” He rushed out in the Great Hall as I sat down with Pansy and Abby.

“You need to stay away from me,” I gritted out, glowering at him. “You’re a coward!”

“Look, I didn’t know what the spell would do, okay?”

“No! That’s not okay!” I stood. “You almost killed him! And you would have! Why in Merlin’s name would you use a spell if you didn’t know what it did!?” Bristling, Abby had to place her hand on my arm before I drew my own wand. Her gentle hand allowed me a moment to take a deep breath and cam myself, ever so slightly. “Just get out of here Harry. Don’t... don’t talk to me,”

“Come on, mate, let’s go,” Ron pulled Harry’s arm back, sensing the rising tension in his best friend.

“You’re... you’re not really going to...” Abby asked softly as we sat back down. “About being the bad guy?” She was almost timid to ask.

I sighed and shook my head.

“No,” I admitted. “I just said it because I was mad and scared. I’m not gonna go off and join the Dark Lord,” a sad smile played at my lips. “I... I feel like I have no choice... This path was forced into me because of Precious Potter and I... I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to be broken... but I don’t want to be walked on,”

“And you don’t have to be,” Pansy encouraged. “We all have your back,” Pansy nodded to the Hall. “We’re on your side,”

“I don’t want there to be sides!” I dismayed, scrubbing my face. “I don’t want to be divided because we still do have the same enemy and...” I let out a sharp breath in defeat. “When did it all become so complicated?”

Abby said nothing but wrapped an arm around me, soothingly rubbing my shoulder.

“It’ll all work out, you’ll see,” She encouraged, sharing a look with Pansy. “For all of us.”

After dinner, as I always did, I went and saw Draco. His steady grey eyes trailed me as I rounded his cot.

“Hey,” He offered softly as I slipped my hand into his. Despite his many blankets and long sleeves, his hands were still ice cold.

“Hey,” I echoed sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” There was little confidence in his voice. “How’s class without me?” I scoffed and stared at the intricate carvings on the pillars of the infirmary.

“It’s not the same... nothing is the same...” The depressing thought left my lips before I could stop it. “I do miss walking to class with you though,” A small smile played at my lips at my gaze returned to him.

Wordlessly I reached out and brushed a few stray hairs from his face, my fingers ghosting over the pale pink scar that ran along the side of his face. Maybe fortune was on our side because though his skin was marred with scars, the spell hadn’t left permanent damage to his senses. His skin was still chilled under my touch.

“You’re still cold,” I murmured. “Do you want tea? Another blanket? I’m sure there’s a warming potion around here somewhere,”

“I’m alright,” His lips tugged upward. “Pomfrey and Snape said that it might happen, because of the Dark Magic...”

Worrying my lip, I nodded and intertwined my fingers with his pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“What’s on your mind?” His question was soft.

“Nothing and everything,” I smiled. “Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing... but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music...”

“Haven’t read that one in a while,” Draco mused softly. “I think they’re having a show in London over the summer holiday...”

I wanted to snap at him. I wanted to say that it was stupid to think about the summer. It was foolish to think we’d survive the semester. That going to the opera shouldn’t be a plan we made on some false hope that we’d actually make it.

But I didn’t.

Instead I entertained the idea. Just for a while. Even if it would hurt later.

“You’d take me then?” I mused.

“Well, of course,” Draco smiled, enjoying that I was playing along. “Of course, Pansy and Abby would come with us,”

I laughed softly at the thought. The false memory of the four of us in some opera house amidst twinkling lights, dressed lavishly, laughing and having fun. I could see myself on Draco’s arm as he held his head high, smiling soft at my antics. I could almost hear Pansy scolding Abby for her poor etiquette. I could almost feel the thrum of the music in my soul and the magic of the performance before me as I was enraptured again by another story.

“I’d like that,” I whispered softly, tears stinging my eyes.

“Then think of it done,”

A silence fell between us.

“Can I stay here tonight?” I asked softly.

“Would you expect me to say anything but yes?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Curled up in his arms, again I thought of everything and nothing, utterly exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically. Draco still offered a sweet comfort that I had never found in anyone else. A comfort that quelled my anxieties and allowed me to sleep soundly.

“Told you she would be here,” I heard Pansy whisper harshly. “It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve done it,”

“Yes, yes, you’re so smart,” Abby said flatly. “They’re still precious, aren’t they? Even now,”

There wasn’t a response. I shifted through my sleep logged thoughts and blinked my eyes open. Draco was still fast asleep beside me, his mouth hanging slightly open as gentle breaths passed through his lips. Abby and Pansy were forgotten as I watched Draco bathed I the soft morning light.

“Hey Feathers, Dumbledore wants to see you,” Abby nudged my arm. “I don’t think it’s good either.”

Fear and dread struck my heart as I froze.

“Did he say why?” I squeaked out, carefully slipping out of the bed, not to rouse Draco.

“No, just that it was a serious matter,” Abby frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” I mumbled. “Please stay with him, tell him where I am when he wakes up. And if he tries to come and find me, make sure he doesn’t. He’s still healing,”

Timidly I made my way up to Dumbledore’s office, a list of a thousand things that could go wrong sprinting through my mind, willing them all true. Those thoughts however, changed and funneled when I saw that I wasn’t alone in his office with him. No, Harry, Snape, and McGonagall were all present along with the old headmaster.

“Miss Y/l/n, thank you for joining us,” Dumbledore smiled kindly.

“Yeah... okay,” I closed the door behind me. “What’s this about?”

“What happened in Myrtle’s bathroom,” Snape informed with a monotone voice. “Though I have thoroughly explained that what Harry did to Mr. Malfoy was much worse and you acted in self- defense,”

“Uh... okay...” My eyebrows furrowed. “What exactly did I do?”

“What did you do? You used an Unforgivable!” McGonagall dismayed.

“You tortured me!” Harry exclaimed.

“You attempted to murdered Draco!” I shot back. “What was I supposed to do!?”

“As I said, she acted in self-defense.” Snape cut the tension with his calmed voice.

“That wasn’t self-defense, that was malicious intent,” Harry growled. “You have to mean the curse for it to do any damage,”

“Oh yes, and I’m sure your use of Dark Magic is completely justified,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “And are you really going to play the victim when I have every right to loathe you?”

“Miss Y/l/n,” Dumbledore interjected. “We are not here to point fingers, but rather here the entire story. Both sides.”

“Why isn’t Sprout here?” I looked around. “She’s my Head of House... shouldn’t she be here?”

“This isn’t a House matter,” Snape clarified. “This is a matter of the Order,”

“Of which you are a member,” McGonagall finished. “Now please, your side of the story,”

My mind processed this information then I began my tale.

“Draco was having a panic attack, so I led him to the nearest quiet place that I could find—”

“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” McGonagall clarified and I nodded.

“I was comforting Draco—walking him through grounding and Harry burst into the bathroom. Draco got defensive of me, drawing his wand, and Harry cast a hex at the two of us... I remember telling Draco to stop... there was water everywhere. And then Harry,” I glanced over to the golden boy who was sulking in his chair. “Cast whatever awful spell that was. I didn’t think. The Unforgivable was the first spell that came to mind...” I paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “Then there was so much blood. Merlin...” I wrung my hands together in a desperate attempt to wash my clean hands of blood that was no longer there. “I did cast the spell, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I’m sorry for hurting you, but not for defending Draco,”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “Well, it seems that all’s well that ends well,”

Harry and I both sputtered, glaring each other down.

“She should be going to Azkaban!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, you should really keep your comments to yourself Potter,” I snarled.

“If I remember correctly Mr. Potter, you also cast an Unforgivable at Bellatrix not last year,” Dumbledore raised an ancient eyebrow at a fuming Harry who instantly fizzled out.

“You cast an Unforgivable and you have the nerve to accuse me! Oh, stars above Harry where does it end with you!?”

“That doesn’t count! She was trying to kill me! She killed Sirius!”

I stared at him in quelled anger. “Funny,” My voice was calm and even. “I could have sworn I did it for the same reasons,” I watched the color drain from his face. “But I get it, I’m not the Chosen One, I don’t get free passes, do I?”

“Miss Y/n,” McGonagall warned.

“Am I free to go? I need to get back to Draco,” I looked to Snape.

He gave a seldom and I rushed out of the office, practically running back to the hospital wing. Abby caught me in her arms, stilling me outside the door.

“Hey, talk to me,” She demanded. “What happened?”

“Harry needs to mind his own damn business,” I growled. “He told that I used an Unforgivable against him after he tried to kill Draco. After he already used one last year! And he has the nerve—”

“Y/n?” Draco’s shaky voice was a lot closer than I thought it would be. It had to mean that he was up and walking.

“Dray?” My anger softened to concern and hope. “Draco what are you doing up?”

“You could have given us more of a warning about how much he would fight us after telling him that Dumbledore wanted to speak to you,” Pansy muttered, Draco’s arm slung around her shoulder.

“Sorry?” I offered, taking Draco’s weight, freeing Pansy. “You need to stay in bed,” I scolded him softly.

“How could you think that I would? How could you just leave?” His voice was trembling and uncertain.

“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I led him back to his cot, setting him down gently. “Forgive me?”

He nodded as I pulled the blanket back over him. Pansy and Abby aided me in getting him settled again.

“This is so stupid,” He groaned. “I should be there with you,”

“A few more days, my love,” I comforted softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Then you’ll be back beside me,”

__________________________________

Draco’s eyes met the plated silver. His reflection mocking him. His pale skin was decorated— was that the right word? Ruined, perhaps—with faded pinkish scars.

Of course, his mother had been livid. Visiting him in the hospital wing more days than not until he was medically cleared to go back to class, she was there, pacing, muttering, threatening, demanding.

Your sentiments matched his mother’s but ever since the fateful day that Harry had taken him inches from death, you had gone silent with a cold ruthless fury. A look that only faded from your eyes when they met his. Then adoration was evident. Love and dedication was evident. Kindness.

As he stared at his reflection, the phantom memory of pain danced along his skin.

“Hey there handsome,” Your gentle voice caught his attention. Catching the sight of you in the mirror he turned, leaning against the vanity.

“I don’t remember you ever calling me that before,” He mused, slightly teasing—part of him wondering if you were just saying it to make him feel better.

“I know you Draco,” You pressed off the doorjamb you were leaning against and took his hands. “Self-assured, confident, absolutely gorgeous,” A smirk hinted at your lips. “But I know you’re unsteady right now.” Gently your fingers traced the scars on his hands trailing up his arm making him shudder.

“And what of you?” He asked softly, bringing your hand to his lips pressing a kiss there softly, reveling in the warmth of your skin; something that he had lost, his skin retaining an icy chill with the dark magic that plagued it.

“What of me?” You countered softly. “I’m quite assured that I’m beautiful to those who matter to me... call it vanity,”

A chuckle escaped his lips, your words reminding him of Pansy. “No, that’s no mystery. You are stunning,” Your arms draped lazily around his shoulders as you waited for him to continue. “Are you okay? I know you, and you’ve been... I don’t know. Withdrawn? Distracted?”

He feared the anger that flashed in your eyes until you seemed to blink it away. With the fluttering of your eyelashes the ire turned to sorrow. Your shoulders rose and fell with the deep breath you took.

“I’m tired of being walked on. I’m tired of people underestimating me. Of thinking I’m harmless or weak.” You paused but then your eyes met his pleading, “I know who I am, I really do. I’m just tired of other people not seeing it.”

Draco smiled at you, reaching up and caressing your cheek delicately. “And?” He knew you had more on your mind.

“I’ve had enough of Harry thinking he can get away with anything.”

Draco nodded. Before his prejudices against Potter had been just that—prejudices. Now? Now they went so much deeper. The hurt and pain that Harry had caused to you and him was something that couldn’t be brushed off. Draco’s anger matched yours when thinking of Potter, but maybe the difference was he had never seen it from the outside looking in.

“He almost killed you Draco,” Your voice wavered. “If Snape hadn’t shown up, you would have...” Tears pricked your eyes and you quickly shut them. “I can’t... I can’t lose you... and I never want to feel helpless like that again,”

Draco cupped your face softly, your eyes meeting his as quiet streams of tears trailed down your cheeks.

“And you won’t have to, but my love,” He sighed softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead before drawing you into his arms, “I don’t want you to lose yourself... I know you’re angry, and I know you’re scared... I know you wish it would all just go away, because I do too,” He sighed deeply. “But we can’t lose focus on who we are,”

“When did you become the wise grounded one?” You pouted into his shoulder, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Some girl brought me back down to Earth,” He mused.

“Must have been some girl,” He could hear the smile in your voice.

“Oh, she’s quite wonderful, I think you’d love her. I know I do,”

“Sap,” You accused, smiling up at him.

“And yet you love me anyway,”

“I do,” You pressed up on your toes, your lips brushing against his softly.

The day that he returned to class, as expected, he got plenty of stares. Students gawking at him and whispering behind his back. Not that it was new for him. But maybe you were right—he was unsteady. You still held his hand in the halls though, and still looked at him as you would a piece of artwork. And whenever he became uncertain about his appearance your gently smile and soft kisses created phantom memories that kept him grounded.

“Ginny and Harry are together,” Hannah gave off hand one day at dinner.

Draco’s eyebrows raised in surprised. Your face soured a bit as your eyes drifted over to the Gryffindor table where sure enough Harry and Ginny were sitting together amidst their friends. He pressed a kiss to your temple, pulling you a bit closer. The pout didn’t leave your face, but your focus reverted back to your friends before you.

Draco hadn’t spoken to or gone near Harry since he had been back to class. The only real struggle was Potions, but Harry seemed content on ignoring him, and with Ernie as Draco’s partner, Draco’s thoughts weren’t consumed with Harry. Ernie was actually quite pleasant in class, Draco had to admit. Though he was a bit reckless and impulsive in a childlike manor, but he wasn’t impossible for Draco to work with. In fact, Draco almost preferred to work with Ernie because Ernie didn’t treat him any differently after his near-death experience. It was a vein of normalcy.

“This should work,” You lowered your wand, running your hand over the mended Vanishing Cabinet. “We should be done,”

His eyes met yours. There was hope in your warm eyes. Draco gave a seldom nod and grabbed an apple from his bag. It was the first test. Though weeks ago, the apple had made it to Borgin and Burkes, the live finches you had sent hadn’t survived. You mourned the small birds and buried them beneath your tree by the lake.

The apple was closed behind the wardrobes doors and after counting to thirty, your hand gripped tightly in his, Draco opened the door again and saw that the apple had a slice cut out of it. You let out a steady breath and went to the golden wire cage, with gentle grace setting down the small bird into the wardrobe. You closed your eyes, refusing to watch as he closed the door this time. Thirty seconds again, he opened the door, and the small finch was there, staring up at the two of you, an apple slice in his mouth.

You let out a scream of excitement and joy as you gathered the bird into your hands and kissing its small head before setting it back in the cage to enjoy its treat.

The next was a crow, easily transfigured from a goblet. Draco ser the bird into the cabinet and closed the door yet again. The ruffling of wings faded for twenty seconds until he heard frantic cawing and agitated movements. Throwing open the door, the crow flew out. With a quick flick of your wand the crow was a goblet once more, falling harmlessly into the piles of rubbish around the two of you.

“I have to go,” You breathed out, words that he had been dreading.

“Y/n,” He refuted. “We don’t know if it’ll work for larger animals, Pinnae might not make it.”

“It worked for the crow,” You pointed out. “Pinnae can make it,”

“It’s too dangerous,”

“Draco,” You gave him a flat look. “I need to go,” You took his hands into yours. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. If not, I’ll just fly back here from Diagon Alley.”

“You make it sound so simple,” He nuzzled his nose to yours.

“Because it is,” You smiled, pressing your lips to his fleetingly. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Please be careful,” Draco dismayed as your morphed into Pinnae, fluttering into the base of the wardrobe.

Then he closed the door, trapping you in darkness. Thirty seconds had never been so long.

There was a knock on the door then it slowly opened. Your smiling face was shining as you crawled out of the cabinet.

“It works,” You breathed out, amazed.

“By Merlin it works!” Draco exclaimed, spinning you in his arms.

You laughed and held onto him tightly. The two of you celebrated with laughter that turned to tears. When the entire world seemed against you two, at least one thing went right.

“I love you,” You sniffled through tears.

“Stars, I love you too,” He breathed in the scent of you deeply, burying his head in your shoulder. “We’re gonna make it,” He was almost hopeful.

“We’re gonna make it,” You affirmed.

“Who’s there?”

You and Draco froze, staring at each other in paralyzing fear.

“Hello?” The voice called again.

You sagged and let out an aggravated groan. “It’s Trelawney,” Gritting your teeth you let go of him, sighing. “I’ll go see what she wants. You get to Snape and tell him we do this tonight.” There was fierce determination in your eyes.

Draco nodded and watched as you made your way toward the exit. He could hear your faint conversation with the professor. Giving you five minutes head start, Draco slipped from the Room of Hidden Things undetected.

“It’s done,” Draco panted out, catching his breath after nearly running to Snape’s office. “The raid has to be tonight,”

“I see,” Snape rose. “And you’re certain?”

You burst into the office just then, also out of breath. “Harry and Dumbledore are leaving to go find something called—”

“Silencio!” Snape casted the spell on you, proving you mute. Infuriated, Draco drew his wand, stepping between you and the professor. “Calm down, she’s in no harm,” Snape rolled his eyes and lifted the spell. “But be careful with what you speak. It is wise to hold your tongue.”

Fuming, you nodded still.

Draco lowered his wand and took your hand.

“Now, you both know the task ahead of you?” Snape questioned. Silent nods affirmed the question. “Very well. He will be pleased, Draco. Very pleased indeed.” Another silent moment passed. “You have twenty-three minutes.”

Draco took your hand and pulled you into the hallway and along the corridors.

“Go, find Abby. Warn your friends. Warn your house. No one needs to get hurt. We’re already doing enough damage,” His voice was soft and gentle as unshed tears lingered in his eyes.

“I love you,” Your voice broke as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours desperately.

The kiss was hasty and despairing. Though neither of you would admit it, you both knew that it was a kiss goodbye. The warmth of your breath against his was the last of your warmth that he expected. The urgency of your fingers in his hair was the last of your comfort that he sought. The taste of your mouth was the last of your sweetness that he accepted. The softness of your lips was the last of your peace that he pursued.

“Twenty-three minutes,” He breathed out before letting you go and heading down to the murky waters of the Slytherin Common Room.

The Mark on his arm burned and Draco knew that Snape had called the others of the raid. A plan set into motion long ago, now coming to fruition.

____________________________

“Y/n!” Abby called my name as you burst into the common room. “What’s going on?”

My friends were all gathered in the common room as Abby tossed to me something small and shiny. A galleon. My galleon. From D.A. I might have cursed.

“How does he even know?” I chucked the galleon into the fire, watching it ricochet a flurry of ashes. My eyes met Abby’s. “It’s tonight,”

She nodded, knowing what it meant, knowing what was expected of her. A plan made long ago, that was now set into motion.

“Okay, this is going to get very bad, very quickly.” My voice trembled as I looked at all of the horror-struck faces before me. “But please, I need you all to keep the younger years safe. I need you to stay out of the halls until Abby comes and gets you.”

“But what about you?” Ernie asked.

“Look, you’re going to hear things. Awful things about Draco and me. And I can’t deny them, nor should I ask for your forgiveness. But please,” Tears streamed down my face. “Believe that everything I’ve worked for... everything I’ve done has been for this family,” I looked around the room. “I don’t have much of one by blood, but you? All of you... you’ve always been my family. And Hogwarts is my home.”

Abby’s arms wrapped around me and I could no longer hold back my tears. Soon there was a massive comfort pile and I was in the center of it. My friends, my family all there, all holding me close.

“So, what do you need us to do?” Taylor asked. I wiped my eyes and stood tall.

“Someone get word to the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors that they need to stay in their dorm. You all have about fifteen minutes to be completely locked down. Cast protection spells. Silencing spells. Comfort younger years. Distract them. Do not take an order from anyone unless it’s Abby. Make sure she is not under a spell before you listen to her.” I glanced over at her. “This is a grave matter and lives are on the line tonight. One of which is mine. I don’t know what will happen tonight, but I won’t be coming back. Not for some while.”

“But why?” I didn’t see where the question came from.

“It will all be revealed soon. I love you all. And I hope that you all can forgive me after tonight. No matter what you think of me, please, don’t forget: have courage and be kind.”

They all nodded. I rushed up to my room, changing quickly into dueling robes, pulling my silver cloak on.

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, tying her hair back.

“I’ll be fine,” I drew her in for a hug. “Please just get out alive,”

“You too kid,” Abby smiled weakly, taking my hand. “Sister for life,”

“Hufflepuffs for life,” I finished, looking back one last time before taking off through the window and into the night.

With a soft thud I landed on Draco’s floor. He was expecting me. We didn’t embrace another, but instead got to work.

“The Hufflepuffs?” He asked.

“Warned and locked down. Word was sent to Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The Slytherins?”

“Secured.” Draco affirmed. “Seven minutes,”

“Okay,” I nodded. “The Mark,”

Draco looked out his opened window and chanted something short and unfamiliar to my ears and I watched as a snake coiled from the end of his wand in a thick green smoke and into the sky merging with a skull. I took his hand, standing beside him.

“I still don’t want to kill him,” Draco confessed. “But I’ll do anything to keep you safe,”

“Draco don’t worry about me. Your mother and I have a plan if things go wrong.” It was an easy lie as I met his confused grey eyes. I smiled softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“The Astronomy tower,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Go,”

I leapt out of his window again and circled the school, patrolling, watching two figures on brooms land on the tower I was destined for. The quiet night was eerily quiet as I landed, perched on a sill, watching Harry and a frail looking Dumbledore. I almost slipped out of Pinnae because of the regret that fluttered in my chest, but it was easily pushed aside.

I watched as Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, his hand just meeting the door as I heard running footsteps from the door opposite to Harry. My eyes trained and waiting for Draco missed whatever had caused Harry to keep fleeing.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco shouted, and I sprang into action, catching the wand in my claws and settling back on the sill.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, “Good evening, Draco,”

Draco stepped forward glancing over to me then to the empty room. He was making sure that we were alone. I wanted to warn him that Harry was close, but I couldn’t not yet. Draco seemed to figure this out on his own however, as his eyes fell upon the second broom.

“Who else is here?” He demanded.

“A question I might ask you.” Dumbledore eyed me before his attention reverted back to Draco. “Surely you’re not acting alone,”

“No,” Draco said. “I’ve got backup.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said as if Draco’s actions were praiseworthy. “And won’t you join us Miss Y/n?”

Draco glanced to me, panicked. That wasn’t a part of the plan. I wasn’t to be human at all. No one was supposed to know that I was there. Not the Order or the Death Eaters and certainly not Bellatrix.

“I know that it’s you my dear, you might as well join us,”

It was a wildcard neither Draco nor I were expecting. Draco gave a seldom nod, looking utterly defeated. Against my better judgement, I morphed back human, wand in my hand as I took my place at Draco’s side, adrenaline and anxiety threading through my chest.

“You always were such a talented witch,” Dumbledore praised. “I assume you had a hand in this plan, finding a way to get the other Death Eaters into my school?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice shaking.

“You do complicate things don’t you my dear,” Dumbledore’s eyes fell upon me. “To think if Mr. Malfoy never had you, what would have become of him.”

“I don’t dwell on what might have been,” My eyes narrowed at the frail headmaster. “But rather what is to come,”

“Ah yes, your little job,” A twisted smile curled on his face. “Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,” said Dumbledore softly.

Confusion flitted across my face. Did Dumbledore know what we were here to do? How long had he known? Why the bloody hell hadn’t he said anything? A tense silence fell between us and I could faintly hear the fighting of Death Eaters and The Order occur somewhere below. I winced at the mental images.

“Draco, you are not a killer.” Dumbledore smiled. The words sounded cruel coming from his mouth rather than mine. Condescending.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Draco snarled, gripping his wand tightly.

“Oh yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley—”

“That wasn’t us,” I interjected. “You really think I’d allow that?”

“Well you are here to kill me, are you not?”

Silently I seethed, gritting my teeth.

“It wasn’t us,” Draco replied coldly. “And we never figured out who it was,”

“Very curious,” Dumbledore mused. “But you were saying . . . yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I thought impossible...How did you do it?”

Neither of us said anything. The echoes of the fight below were deafening. My blood ran cold, torn between who I needed to win. One to protect Draco and I. One to protect my family.

“Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone,” Dumbledore taunted. “What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too,”

“The Order is here?” Frowning I met ancient blue eyes.

“You think I wouldn’t have back up at my own school?”

Betrayal washed through me. I had no idea that the Order was here. That they were the guard against the raid that was merely a plan b. I never wanted them to get hurt. Why wasn’t I told that they were here? Wasn’t I apart of the Order as well? Then it dawned on me.

“You... you manipulated me!” I shouted. “You never wanted me as a part of the Order! You just wanted to keep an eye one me! Never for one moment did you believe in me!”

Draco winced at the realization of my words, as he took my hand, grounding me.

“Who was I to go against your father’s wishes?”

“My father is dead because he believed in you,” I spat.

“He died for you. Not me.”

I growled dangerously.

“But never mind all of that,” Dumbledore waved the thought as if it were something easily dismissed. “And after all, you don’t really need help... I have no wand at the moment... I cannot defend myself.”

I ran my fingers over Dumbledore’s wand in my hand. It was urging me on, daring me to cast an Unforgivable. Begging me to. If I didn’t get my fury under control, Draco might not have to kill Dumbledore. Because I would.

A silence fell again.

“I see,” said Dumbledore patronizingly. “You are afraid to act until they join you.”

“I’m not afraid!” Draco snarled, though he still made no move to hurt Dumbledore. “It’s you who should be scared!”

“But why? I don’t think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe... So, tell me, while we wait for your friends... how did you two smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I hissed. “We had the plan since this past summer. We could have easily done it by Christmas, but Draco and I deserved another year together at our home,” My words dripped venom as they met the crisp air.

“We had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one’s used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year.” Draco explained because anger claimed my voice, deeming me silent.

“Ah.” Dumbledore’s sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That was clever... There is a pair, I take it?”

“We don’t have to explain anything to you,” I whispered, my eyes closed as I tried to reign in my anger.

“I see,” Dumbledore smiled. “But I suppose that I was incorrect when I assumed that you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet and acted rashly? It does leave me to wonder who did almost kill Ms. Bell and Mr. Weasley.”

Draco’s grip on my hand tightened. He didn’t like the loose end any more than I did. “If you suspected us, why didn’t you stop us then?” Draco demanded.

“I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders —”

“He hasn’t been doing your orders, he promised my mother--”

“Of course, that is what he would tell you, Draco, but—”

“But nothing!” I interrupted. “I think Narcissa means a bit more to Snape than you do,”

“We must agree to differ on that, my dear. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape —”

“That’s marvelous,” I deadpanned. “But trust isn’t the same as loyalty,”

“Isn’t it though?” The old professor seemed as if he were having a hard time standing on his own without the help of the railing. I almost offered my aid. “But as for being bout to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now, we are quite alone, I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted...”

Draco glanced to me and a gave a soft smile. The fear and uncertainty in his eyes caused my anger to morph into a fierce protection.

“I see,” Dumbledore went on. “I wonder why Voldemort has let you live so long Miss Y/n. You really do hinder Draco from what is expected of him,”

“Shut your mouth!” Draco snapped. “She is the cleverest, most brilliant witch I’ve met! If anything, she pushes me past what I should be and into who I am!”

“And who are you Mr. Malfoy? Are you a killer?” Neither of us answered. “There is little time, one way or another,” said Dumbledore. “So, let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“My options!” Draco scoffed. “I’m standing here with a wand—I’m about to kill you—”

“My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.”

Draco’s aspiration to kill Dumbledore might be fading, but my desire for it was growing with each moment that passed as I untangled a web of lies and manipulation in silence about the frail headmaster before me.

“I haven’t got any options!” Draco despaired. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill her! He’ll kill my mother!”

“I appreciate the difficulty of your position,” said Dumbledore. “Why else do you—”

“No,” The fury in my voice was cold and unforgiving. “Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you dare make yourself the martyr. You have no idea the hell Draco and I have been through together. Your chosen one almost killed him for Merlin’s sake, and you have nerve to offer a false kindness? As if you were blameless? As if you understood?”

“No, you can’t,” Draco agreed to the weight of my words.

“Come over to the right side,” Dumbledore continued as if I had never spoken, “and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban...When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, you are not a killer...”

“Like you protected my father?” I whispered softly. “When will you see we are on the side of good. But we’re not on your side.”

Dumbledore did not speak. His mouth was open, still trembling, as if to find the right words to manipulate us back to his side.

But suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs, Draco and I turned, in fear. We were both buffeted out of the way as four black robes burst through the door.

It seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight below.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle. “Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too... Charming...”

The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?” she jeered.

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.

“Do it,” said the stranger standing furthest from me. He had a deep raspy voice and almost barked the words. All of my instincts told me to run from this man.

“Is that you, Fenrir?” asked Dumbledore.

“That’s right,” Fenrir barked, and I understood. Fenrir Greyback, the savage werewolf. “Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?”

“No, I cannot say that I am.”

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely. “But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.”

I choked back a sob, struggling to stand upright. Faces of my family flashed through my mind. Whose blood was on my hands and on his teeth? My world spun as I tried to get it back into order. Draco’s arm wrapped around me, trying to keep me upright.

“Ah, the little harlot,” A familiar voice cooed. “I should have known you’d be the one to stop Draco from his task.”

My eyes flashed up, meeting Bellatrix’s.

“She’s actually helped quite a bit,” Dumbledore interjected. “She has my wand, and she’s the one who made your arrival possible,”

“Shut up you old fool!” Bellatrix sneered. “Now come along little prince, we are short on time,” There was an urgency in her voice that made me hopeful that perhaps the Death Eaters hadn’t won but merely escaped.

“Draco, do it or stand aside so one of us—”

I didn’t take note into who was speaking because just then, from the door that Draco had arrived, came Snape, rushing forward and taking in the scene before him. His eyes met mine then went to Draco’s before settling onto Dumbledore’s.

“Severus...” The plead startled me. My eyes turned to Dumbledore who for the first time tonight was begging.

Snape said nothing but walked forward and pushed Draco and I roughly out of the way. Draco steadied me and we both moved to the back wall, watching the other Death Eaters—even Bellatrix fall back without a word.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

“Severus... please...” Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

“Avada Kedavra!” It wasn’t my voice or Draco’s. But rather Snape’s.

Time around me slowed. Or maybe I could register everything around me all at once.

Dumbledore staggered back, falling, falling, falling down. Bellatrix cackled victoriously. Draco was a solace beside me, clinging to me as if I was his only lifeline.

“Out of here, quickly,” Snape ordered, glaring Draco and I down, a snarled look on his face.

He seized Draco’s cloak and forced him first through the door, with me trailing not far behind Draco. I didn’t bother to look who was behind me. Darkness fell over me and I proved blind. All I could do was cling to Draco’s robe and pray that wherever this darkness led, that there was a light somewhere at the end.

The darkness lifted as the starry night sky stretched before me letting me know that I was on the grounds of Hogwarts, not far from Hagrid’s.

“Go! Off the grounds and disapparate!” Snape ordered. “Go home!”

Draco and I stumbled as we ran through the dark. I wished nothing more than to morph into Pinnae and fly away, but I knew it was impossible. Just as we were at the outskirts of the grounds, Draco had to pull me out of the way of a bright red flash.

“Stop righ’ ‘ere!” A gruff voice called.

“Hagrid!” I called in relief until I realized I was no longer wanted here.

“Y/n?” Hagrid seemed just as confused as I was. “Wah are you doin’ ou’ wiff a bunch o’ Death Eaters?”

“I’m so sorry Hagrid,” I yelled into the darkness as Draco and I kept moving towards our freedom. “Take care of Steve, please!”

The distraction was enough to let a few black robes step foot off campus and disapparate. I turned back, a mistake, and saw Harry sprinting towards us, malice and torture in his eyes.

“I was right about you all along!” He shouted. “Don’t you dare show your face here again!”

Before I could respond, mostly just wanting to scream in frustration, Snape intersected the two of us, allowing Draco to grab my arm and pull me off the grounds.

“Y/n!” He called. “You need to disapparate! Go back to the Manor!” His eyes were wild and wide.

I nodded and wand in hand, I landed softly into the foyer of the Manor.

Of home.

chapter 11

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gameofdrarry · 3 years

Text

Wizards Hearts Recs: Healer!Draco

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 The Four Doors by fluxweed Rated: Explicit Words: 48845 Tags: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Power Imbalance, Auror Harry Potter, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubious Consent Due To Patient/Healer Dynamic, Mind Fucking (Literally), Not Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary: It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Where The Falcons Fly by MyNameIsThunder Rated: Mature Words: 283177 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Seeker Harry Potter, Quidditch, accidental magic, Blood and Injury, Not Epilogue Compliant, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Post-Hogwarts, Scars, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Whump, POV Third Person Limited, Mutual Pining, Power Couple, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Eventual Fluff Summary: Where the Falcons fly, there’s blood. Where Draco goes, there usually is too. That’s his job, after all – heal morons and the people who get in their way. He could deal with that, he thinks, if only there wasn’t Harry fucking Potter, Seeker, who gets injured a lot even by the Falcons’ standards and seems to have made a habit of inserting himself in Draco’s private life. Draco just wants to heal people – normal people, that is – and do his research in peace. Well, when does he ever get what he wants? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Better Kind of Love by MalenkayaCherepakha Rated: Explicit Words: 25768 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, discussion of injuries, Broken Bones, Injury Recovery, Skele-Gro, Physical Therapy, Nightmares, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Quidditch, Masturbation, Rimming, Shower Sex, Locker Room Sex, Semi-Public Sex, H/D Erised 2020 Summary: Harry, along with the rest of the Puddlemere United team, is determined that this year will be the year they finally win the Quidditch League Cup. But when a Bludger-induced fall leads to a missed Snitch, broken bones, and an extended stay in St Mungo's, that conviction is put to the test. If Harry wants to have any chance of returning to the pitch this season he has to put all of his faith in his assigned Healer. Which is no easy task when that Healer is Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Meet Cute by rewmariewrites Rated: Teen and Up Words: 4203 Tags: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, St Mungo's Hospital, Hospitals, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry is a Little Shit, Banter Summary: It may be important to note that Draco Malfoy meets the love of his life when he is twenty-five years old. Well. In the spirit of fairness, that statement is both technically inaccurate and incredibly vague. Draco isn’t just twenty-five years old, when he meets the love of his life, he’s also in his fourth year of the Healing Programme at St. Mungo’s, and this isn't actually the first time they've ever met. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Don't Waste Your Eyes on Jealous Guys by EvAEleanor Rated: Mature Words: 9667 Tags: MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Roadtrips, Music, Implied Sexual Content, on the bonnet of a car, Pining, jealous boyfriend, mentions of Abusive Relationship (emotionally and verbally), First Kiss, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, Choose Your Own Ending, Touch, hearing, TasteofSmut 2020, First Time, Bittersweet Ending Summary: For two years now, Harry’s life has been different. Not only does he work in New York City as the Auror liaison to MACUSA on an international murder case, but he’s seen more of Draco Malfoy than he’d ever thought possible. Working with him, and spending time with him after work. During all of this time, Harry has watched Draco going back to his shitty boyfriend over and over again. The worst thing about all of this, he’d fallen in love with him. Maybe there’s hope for Harry though. Maybe for just one night... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 All is NOT well... by iStiz Rated: Mature Words: 65500 Tags: HP: EWE, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slow Build, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Healer Draco Malfoy, Quidditch, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Physical Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Depression, Substance Abuse, Rehabilitation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Mild Sexual Content, vague sexual content, Happy Ending Summary: The war may be over but all is NOT well. Harry feels lost, the Ministry is still trying to control him, his friendships with Ron is rocky at best, he doesn't sleep enough, and then there's Draco Malfoy. Things haven't turned out quite the way Harry expected them to, but at least he still has Hermione to help him (and maybe some new friends if he can trust letting them into his life). ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding Rated: Explicit Words: 71753 Tags: Sleep disorders, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in all honesty this has a bunch of pain, problematic therapist/patient stuff, mind healer!draco, auror!Harry, no seriously the therapist/patient stuff is super problematic but welcome to fanfic, Child Abuse Summary: Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with. Guaritore Christopher Black is an exceptional psychiatrist with a specialisation in sleep disorders. He is also Draco Malfoy in a Glamour. Minister Hermione Granger knows the dangers and the complications, but she needs her best friend back. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 oxygen by MaesterChill Rated: Teen and Up Words: 4065 Tags: Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Smoking, Cigarettes, Talking, Breathing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Minor Character Death, A Kiss, Fanart, POV Second Person Summary: Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Indebtedness by RecIt_Ralph Rated: Teen and Up Words: 50685 Tags: HP: EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Slow Build, Fluff and Angst, forgiving Harry, Chaptered, My First Fanfic, Swearing, Snark, Eventual Happy Ending, Second Chances, Getting to Know Each Other Summary: Of all the Healers in all of St Mungo's - why does Harry always end up with Malfoy? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Best Laid Plans by CreateImagineWrite Rated: Explicit Words: 10105 Tags: Marriage Proposal, Lust Potion/Spell, Secret Relationship, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Barebacking Summary: He hadn’t intended to be fully clothed with Harry naked at this point, or to have just made him take an antidote to a poison or have had to Incarcerus him to the bed. But they’ve never had a very normal relationship anyways. And damn him if he’s going to let Ginevra Weasley get in the way of him marrying this man. Fourshot. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Iustitia & Prudentia by skeptique Rated: Explicit Words: 36302 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Mental Health Issues, Everyone is going to Therapy, Taking their Meds, Calling Their Person, Slow Burn, Procedural That's Fairly Light on the Procedural Part, Canon Content Warnings Apply, brief discussion of infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Discussion of Ongoing Food Related Issues, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Canon Typical Violence, Kidnapping, Confinement, Pansexual Theo Nott, Case Fic, Mystery, Draco Malfoy in Glasses, Minor Character Death Summary: Draco Malfoy’s entire life fell apart after the War. He’s putting it back together as best he can with what is available to him. But Harry keeps interfering and won’t leave him alone. When he agrees to be an Auror consultant to help Harry, is it more than he bargained for? The world shifted under Harry Potter’s feet and he found himself lost and purposeless. He anchors himself in uncovering the truth about a dangerous pureblood terrorist group. Is Draco the key to solving these crimes, or is he a distraction? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Do No Harm by Lokifan Rated: Explciit Words: 58114 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, HP: EWE, Quidditch, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Recovering From The War And Becoming Better People, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Community: hd_erised, Break Up Summary: Draco hadn’t planned to end up as team Healer for the Chudley Cannons, but it’s a Healer job, so he’ll take it - and then Potter shows up, the glorious centre-of-attention Seeker, as ever. And someone with a grudge is sabotaging Quidditch teams, and it’s only a matter of time before the Aurors’ eyes turn to Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 To Prove We're Not in a Rut by gracerene Rated: Explicit Words: 2140 Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Hogwarts, Healer Draco, POV Harry Potter, Bottom Harry, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Wall Sex, well it's actually against a door, Top Draco, Bottom Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy Summary: Draco and Harry are not in a rut. Draco sets out to prove it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tell Me the End at the Beginning by harryromper Rated: Teen and Up Words: 36591 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, St Mungo's Hospital, Healer Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Christmas Presents, Christmas Decorations, 25 Days of Harry and Draco, Food Hall Turkeys, Advent Calendar, Healer Luna Lovegood, Kreacher, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Yule Logs, Misheard Christmas carols Summary: St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway. Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas. ❤️ Read on AO3

#healer draco #draco malfoy #drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

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rainecreatesstuff · 4 years

Text

LAMP Soulmate AU Bulletfic thing

Word Count: 2569

TW: Mentions and implications of abuse, mentions of anxiety, descriptions of panic attacks, mentions and implications of death + illness

They’re all connected in different ways

Virgil is connected to Patton through that thing where marks on your soulmate’s skin appear of yours too

Roman through a thing where on your eleventh birthday at 11:11pm a name will pop into your head and wow its your soulmate’s

And Logan through the string thing

Roman is connected to Patton through a timer on his wrist

And Logan through a tattoo-like mark on your wrist that says your soulmate’s first words to you

Logan and Patton are connected through a soulmark (A tattoo or raised pattern on your skin that is also on your soulmate)

Patton is blind

so in this au different soulmarkers develop at different ages

So when V’s little he’s super excited to meet his sm, bc his parents are soulmates and everything he’s seen abt them is so sweet and exciting!

He turns six and doesn’t develop a timer, which is what he was hoping for

But that’s ok! There are tons of other soulmarkers!

And then he doesn’t develop a soulmark when he’s seven

Or a sentence on his wrist when he’s eight

And he can see colours

So he’s starting to get nervous

And hey! Mom’s sick, and in the hospital, and she’s just not doing too swell

But then when he turns nine, a beautiful red string has been tied around his ring finger when he wakes up!

And wow! Mom look, I have a soulmate! Just like you and daddy!

And then a few months later he’s doing his homework at the kitchen table and the string goes limp before shriveling up and turning black

The doctors have no explanation, and V’s anxiety has really started to kick in

Mom doesn’t seem to be getting better either

So when he turns ten, he is fully aware that this is probably his last chance to develop a soulmarker

He writes on his forearm the night before his birthday

It says “Hey, I’m V! I guess we’re soulmates?”

When he wakes up there’s nothing new

Which is fine! Because that means his sm is probably in the same time zone as him!

But then he keeps waiting and

Nothing

Nothing for a week.

Eventually his dad convinces him to wash it off

Then on his eleventh birthday he knows how uncommon a soulname connection is, but he needs to try

So it’s 11:10 and he’s sitting at his desk with a marker ready to write it down and then-

Roman Prince

Roman prince? What do you mean Roman prince? That’s not a name! What the hell?!

So he’s really sad and anxious and stuff because he doesn’t have a soulmate and, yknow, that’s kinda upsetting for him

And hey, your mom really isn’t doing too well, we have to visit her after school, okay?

At first Virgil doesn’t understand why mom’s being so dramatic or why she keeps telling him she loves him

Then it hits him

And now he’s sobbing and hugging her and shaking and he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe

Fun fact! Turns out this is a regular thing and he has really bad anxiety.

And mom has been put in a medically induced coma

So a year later dad decides to pull the plug

Virgil’s anxiety has gotten really bad

He’s just not in a good place

High school goes by without much happening

Now he’s going to university! How exciting and stressful!

Roman, too, was entranced by the idea of soulmates. His parents aren’t soulmates, but they encourage his excitement about them!

And when he turns six, he develops a timer on his wrist! Score! What a romantic way to meet the love of your life!

Or friend of your life

His moms are so excited for him! They get him new paints and take him out to dinner to celebrate.

And then he wakes up on his eighth birthday to words on his right wrist

It says “If you could stop talking, it would be vastly appreciated.”

He’s a little pissed

His moms take him to the doctor bc “wtf why does he have TWO soulmarkers?!”

The answer is that he has two soulmates

It’s uncommon, but possible

So while he is ecstatic and ready to parade his soulmarkers around the school, his moms are a little less happy and a little more worried

They may have made the suggestion that he wears long sleeves most days, those ones that he hates because they will not roll up

But he did what they asked because they’re his moms, and he loves them very much

And then a few years later on his birthday he’s typing up a short story for school

It’s due the next day so he’s rushing through it a little bit

It’s still amazing

But anyways, he’s writing, and he suddenly just gets the name “Virgil Miller” stuck in his head

He doesn’t think anything of it bc he’s writing and that’s normal

He ends up naming the main character Virgil

Logan grows up in a bit of a run-down part of town

His Mami and Dad are soulmates (he doesn’t think they should be)

They fight a lot, and sometimes Dad’ll hurt Mami, especially at night when they think he’s asleep

And he’s heard Mami on the phone with his Tia, talking about court cases? And laws, and soulmates?

Needless to say, he isn’t all too enamoured with the idea of soulmates

When he’s seven he gets a soulmark, some bumps over his heart, which is a little distressing

He’s never met this person, but he’s supposed to spend his whole life with them?

He’s very scared that his soulmate will be like Dad

And then he develops the words “Bold of you to assume I can stop talking” on his right wrist

And then a string when he’s nine.

He doesn’t tell his parents about any of them. “Soulless” people existed, and he knew his Mami was hoping he was one of them.

And then later that year Mami sits him down and tells him that she’s going to live with his Tia until she can find her own apartment, and that she and Dad aren’t together anymore

Logan cries for a while, and tells her about all the things he’s heard, and the bruises he’s seen, and begs to go with her

Mami says she was hoping he would

His Dad finds out the day before they leave and he hits Logan

Multiple times

And when his Mami steps in, Dad scowls and yells and stomps away and Mami picks Logan up and they run to the car and leave

When they get to his Tia’s he hides in the guest bedroom they said is his and he takes a pair of scissors and

Snip snip, he’s 33% more “soulless”

He steals Mami’s concealer and puts it on his wrist everyday to cover the words there

The only one he doesn’t cover is the soulmark on his chest, which he almost never sees because of his shirt

Whenever anyone asks, he just tells them he’s soulless

He tries not to get too close to people, but he usually fails and so he has a very small, very tight friend group

Oh also he’s a grade ahead of his year

Patton’s family is very well off

He’s the oldest of four brothers

He’s trans, but his family is v supportive and helped him transition as soon as they found out

His service dog’s name is Cookie and she’s a golden retriever

He’s had her since he was eleven, and he loves her very much

Because he’s blind there’s certain things he didn’t know about growing up

For example, nobody told him about soulmates until he was nine

Which really explains the weird ticking he hears every once in a while, as well as the strange, tiny bumps on his chest (which spell out “Loved” in Braille)

He doesn’t think about it too often, but he’d be lying if the idea didn’t entrance him

He didn’t think he’d ever meet his soulmates, though, and if he did, he wasn’t sure they’d want the responsibility of a blind soulmate

On the day he turns ten, there’s this little tickling on his forearm, like butterflies gently taking off on him

He doesn’t really think anything of it, though

Despite being blind, Patton is super capable

He can’t cook by himself, but if he’s supervised he does a really good job. He’s the most prepared for “real life” out of his siblings, which is strange, considering he’s the oldest

He goes to public school, where most kids are really nice (sometimes antagonistically nice), but there were also some rude kids

“You don’t really need that walking stick, you’ve got a dog, and we need it to play our game!”

The amount of times he’s had to explain that no you dumbass I do still need the stick is ridiculous

But he keeps a smile on his face and forges through it

And then in grade eleven Roman’s studying in the hallway when he sees some kid being bullied

Well, not bullied, but definitely teased. Something was wrong, anyways

He’s been on edge all day because his timer keeps going down

But he’s not really thinking about it rn

So he goes over and gets the idiots to leave and

Holy hell did heaven drop an angel? They must have, because look at this boy with his golden hair and tanned skin and freckles and

Beep beep motherfucker. It’s soulmate o’clock

And Roman is just so happy

“H-hey, I’m Roman!” “Oh, hi, I’m Patton! Did... did your timer go off?” “Uh yeah! It did!”

And Patton

Just grins so wide and there’s tears, and he leaps up and hugs Roman so tight

And Roman is so freaking happy!!!! He asks Patton for his contact because duh and Pat’s like

“Uhhh well I can’t text”

“Why?”

“..... I’m blind?” “OHHHHHHH”

So they figure they can talk over the phone because Patton does have a phone for calling

So they have a cute first date and they fall in love and everything’s good and dandy and Roman’s going to college but Patton’s found this real nifty job that just so happens to be right next to Roman’s college so they move in together and Patton knows about Roman’s other sm and Roman knows about Patton’s other sm

And Roman’s in a lecture now

And he didn’t really notice but he’s been muttering

And he’s just kinda sitting there when he hears it from the guy next to him

So he looks up and here’s this ethereal looking dude with gorgeous brown eyes and dark hair and

“Bold of you to assume I can stop talking.”

He curses every known god for making his first words to his soulmate be a meme

They excuse themselves from class because holy shit

And Logan introduces himself shakily

And Roman asks for his number

And they go on a date where Roman tells him about Patton and Logan mentions having a soulmark over his heart

Logan is really hesitant to join their relationship bc he was hoping he would never meet his soulmates

So they don’t put a label on it right away

But they go on a few dates and hang out a bunch and Logan realizes that he actually really, really likes these guys and he doesn’t really want to live the rest of his life without them

So he talks to them and tells them about some of the stuff that happened when he was a kid

Roman and Patton are horrified but they hug him and promise that they will never lay a finger on him if he asks them not to

And Logan just has a moment of “These guys love me. Like actually love me. And want me to be happy. And I think I feel the same?”

So on their next date Logan asks both of them to be his boyfriends and obviously they say yes

And basically they’re just all really in love

They move into a bigger apartment together at the beginning of year two

So then they’re all cuddling one day when Logan tells them about his string

And so the other two are like “oh shit is there another???”

And Roman says that on his eleventh birthday he just suddenly had this name pop into his head but he just assumed he’d wanted the name for a character so

And Patton says that after getting his soulmark AND a timer he didn’t think to check for anything else

So they’re all kinda like well whoops let’s hope we still meet them!

And Patton’s at his job one day when this guy walks in and he’s one of the new employees

Pat’s got his seeing eye doggo with him but the vest is off cuz they’re both on break

And so V’s like “oh cool dog can I pet him?”

Bc usually he would never just go up and ask but he literally can’t stop himself because here’s this adorable dude in front of him and the universe is screeching at him to say hi

And Pat hears his voice and immediately falls in love

“Oh, yea sure! She’s my eye dog, but she’s on break so it’s all good!”

And V meets Pat and his dog

And they end up exchanging numbers because they are coworkers and well

Yknow

So a couple days later, after him and Patton have been talking a lot, Pat invites him over

So V goes over and meets Roman and Logan

And he hears Roman’s name and

Holy shit

And of course Roman is also freaking out because the name Virgil just really hasn’t left his head since he thought of it

So yknow

Logan’s a little unsure, but then the two get talking about astronomy and he doesn’t care if they’re not soulmates he is going to marry this guy

And they all get really close really fast

And then one day Virgil offhandedly mentions the string thing

And Logan freezes and just

Shows V his right ring finger, where they can both see this rotting string that’s still tied tight around it and

Fuck V can’t breathe are you kidding? right now?

So they help ground him, and Logan explains everything

And Roman tells him what’s up

But they’re not really sure how he’s connected to Patton but then he just

Grabs a marker and draws a heart on his hand and

It’s right there on Patton’s hand holy s h i t

So they take Virgil on a date and stuff and they make it official

And Virgil’s a little nervous bc like those three have been together for a while now and he feels like he’s intruding

But he talks to Logan and L understands bc Roman and Patton had been dating for 2+ years when he found them

He promises that V is not intruding and that they all really love him

And Virgil just full on starts crying because he hasn’t felt this loved since before his mom died and he loves his bfs so much

They find their bfs and just cuddle all night

Virgil moves in with the rest of them at the beginning of third year

They get their happily ever after for the most part

Hopefully y’all liked this! I think I’ll be posting more writing on here, bc I have TONS of wips stacked up in a google docs and I’d like to get them out of there lmao

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moonknightly · 4 years

Text

Could Feel You Surrounding Me : Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.”

Warnings: Uhh mentions of injury, blood, cursing. That’s it I think? This one has a happy ending fellas!

The first emotion you experience is shock. It’s unfathomable, how someone you love and care for so deeply, with every inch of your being, could be at the forefront of a situation you thought only existed in dramatized TV shows — under harsh lights, covered in bandages that turn from white to red and only do so much to hide the cuts and the bruises that mark their skin. Attached to various tubes, drains, and IV lines. So many different wires.

The sight is near unbearable, and it doesn’t get any easier, no matter how many hours or even days pass by in a blur of fast-moving staff wearing stethoscopes and scrubs. And everytime you close your eyes, you tell yourself that once you open them again, you’ll finally be used to it. You tell yourself it’s not gonna hurt as bad this time, but it’s even harder than it was before.

And the sounds. God, the sounds. The unfamiliar, almost haunting beeps and buzzes that start to become a comfort because they serve as the only reminder that they’re still there. The excruciating and traumatic cries of a family’s hearts breaking from down the hall mixed with rare periods of somber silence. The rapid-fire exchange of incomprehensible medical terminology, so many different medications and diagnoses and explanations that you just can’t wrap your head around.

It starts with the shock, because while you knew that this reality existed outside of those damned TV shows, and while you were aware of the possibility of having to live it yourself, given his line of work, you never thought you would actually have to face seeing Santi lying in the ICU like this.

Because he promised. Each and every single time he went out on a mission, he promised you that he’d come home to you, safe and sound and in one piece. And Santiago never broke his promises. Not a damn one.

But it had been a freak accident, and he hadn’t even been on a mission, and that was probably what freaked you out the most. The new realization that it could happen at any given moment, at any given time in any given circumstance.

All of the sleepless nights spent in your empty bed, praying to any divine being that would listen, worrying over his safety and just wishing him home, and he’d managed to land himself in this position during a boy’s trip into the mountains for a little leisurely camping.

They’d been rock climbing, something they were all five well-trained in, but the rope had been settled against a rock with a rather sharp edge, and the constant pulling of his weight had cut straight through it. It was a fall that he was lucky to survive. The paramedics who arrived on scene hadn’t expected to find him alive, and definitely hadn’t expected him to come back once he needed to be resuscitated.

His neglect to check the ridge was something that seemed so out of character for both him and the other boys. No detail was ever overlooked. It was hard for you to believe that he hadn’t noticed how sharp the edge of the rock had been, but you also knew Santi — he never would have thought it would happen to him

There were several things the nurses told you that you didn’t quite understand, and honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ask them to clarify, or put it into words that actually made sense. As ignorant as it was, you almost didn’t want to understand. You didn’t want to focus on all of his injuries and the no doubt long recovery ahead until he opened those big brown eyes of his that you so adored and kept them open.

Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.

What you did understand was that he had several broken ribs, some injuries to his spinal cord, and a moderate traumatic brain injury amongst other things blunt force trauma to his abdomen and chest caused. He’d needed a blood transfusion down in the ER, and he was on so many different medications, you couldn’t keep up.

They’d sedated him after a mild seizure, keeping him in a medically induced coma for the first two days before waking him again. He hadn’t been able to stay awake for long though, and while your eyes had briefly met, you don’t think he really registered who you were or what was going on.

It was day four now, and he was breathing on his own. He was waking up unprompted more and more, usually to vomit, but would fall back asleep after only a minute or two. Sometimes he would glance towards you as if to make sure that someone was still with him, sometimes he would only blink at the ceiling. He’d move, but only if a nurse asked him to touch his nose or wiggle his toes, and he hadn’t said a word.

But neither had you. Each time he looked at you, you could only stare back, blinking away your tears until you were sure he was asleep again. Only then would you let yourself cry, and fuck, did you cry. You were sure you had cried more in the last four days than you ever had before.

Only one person was allowed in the room at a time, and the only time you left his side was to let one of the boys visit. Frankie usually sat with you in the cafeteria while the other three took their turns, trying to get you to eat something, but he’d convinced you to use the time that day to run home and get a shower in, and grab yourself some clothes and other things you’d need since it was apparent you wouldn’t be leaving. He knew no one other than Santiago could convince you to stay the night in your own home rather than in the recliner by his bedside.

Frankie also knew that as brave as Pope was, he’d want you next to him through it all. He’d be heartbroken if he woke up and you weren’t there.

You’d be just as torn up over it.

A nurse checked on him every hour, and it was this particular nurse’s last round before shift change. You liked her. Her name was Casey, and she was always so gentle with him. It was obvious that she actually cared about her patients, not just for them, and you appreciated it to no end, words failing every time you tried to properly thank her. You knew the comfort was something he needed, something you were still too scared to give him. You were afraid to touch him, so terrified that you’d hurt him or cause him even an ounce of discomfort. You hadn’t even touched his hand.

But, it was something you needed to get over. You both needed it.

You watched as she worked around him, checking to make sure everything was still in place, double checking it even after she was sure nothing had wiggled its way loose. She peeked over her shoulder towards you. “The doctors are bringing in an occupational therapist tomorrow.”

“For what?” you asked, shifting in your chair, eyes flickering between her and Santi.

“We’re hoping to keep him awake long enough to get him to write a few things down. See if communicating that way is a possibility. And if not that, maybe we can get him to point at a chart with different letters to spell things out.”

You shifted again. “Is he ready for that?”

“The doctors seem to think so. The longer he stays awake, the better we can gauge where he’s at cognitively.”

You stayed silent at that, your stomach flipping as another bout of fear moved through you.

Casey seemed to know exactly where your head was at though, and she stopped momentarily to reach back and set a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“He’s expected to make a full recovery sweetheart. I’m not the type to believe in miracles and things like that, but given what he’s already pulled himself through, he’s one lucky man.”

You smiled gently, putting your hand over hers, but a frown quickly worked its way back onto your face. “I’m just scared he doesn’t recognize me. Every time he looks at me, it’s almost like he’s looking through me.”

“And does that make you love him any less?”

You were taken aback by her words, completely shocked. But you immediately shook your head, eyebrows furrowing. “Of course not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s not his fault.” Your answer was again immediate. “Because he just went through some shit and it’s not his fault at all. I vowed to love him for better or for worse, and that wasn’t a promise either of us took lightly.”

“Exactly,” she shrugged, pointing to him. “Because that’s still your husband. He’s still your Santiago. There’s just a few kinks to work out, and even if those kinks did become permanent, you’d still love him, right?.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You knew she was right. You knew that even if he didn’t recognize you at first, the doctors were near positive that he would eventually. And even if he didn’t, and he had to relearn you completely, it’d be worth it. Because at least he was still alive, still breathing. You still had him.

“Thank you.”

Casey smiled, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently before turning her attention back to Santiago.

Once she was finished, she turned towards you again, tilting her head to the side. “You know, he could really use a bath. And I think he’d appreciate it if you were the one to do it instead of me.”

The smirk on her face was entirely noticeable, and you knew exactly what she was doing, but you still nodded your head, suddenly craving the physical contact, that connection.

“Great,” she hummed, leaving the room to grab the supplies you would need in order to give him a sponge bath.

She returned a moment letter with a cloth, some soap and deodorant, and a basin of water, instructing you to stay clear of any bandages, and to not worry about his hair. If he woke up, you could try to wash his back, but otherwise she didn’t want you to worry about that either. You nodded your head, listening intently even though it was all pretty straightforward. She turned off the bed alarm, showing you which button to press once you got up again, and left the room.

Once Casey was gone, you took a moment to just stare at him, even though you hadn’t truly looked at anything else in the last four days. He looked better than he had when you first saw him, really. He had some color back in his cheeks, and the lines on his forehead had smoothed out. He looked almost peaceful.

You sighed gently, giving yourself one final push before stepping forward, carefully peeling the blanket and the sheet away from his body.

Should you try to wake him? Or would it be better for you to just go for it? You decided on the latter, thinking it would be better if he woke up on his own accord. If he stayed asleep, then it was obvious his body needed it.

“Hey, sweet boy,” you whispered as you sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing a few sweat soaked curls away from his forehead. “I’d ask how you’re doing but that seems a little redundant right now.”

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you reached for the cloth, wetting it and applying a little bit of soap. You started on his arms, staying away from his IV and the bandage near his elbow. Your touch was gentle, slow, but the feeling of his skin under your fingertips after not feeling it for days set both your body and soul ablaze, chest so full of love and something else that you couldn’t quite place. Relief, maybe? You didn’t know.

“The boys have been in and out,” you continued, even though he couldn’t hear you. You just wanted to talk to him. “Frankie told me you woke up for a second the last time he was in here. He cried a little bit, but he’s never gonna admit it.”

You hesitated, moving to untie the hospital gown as much as you could, pulling it down just enough to reveal his chest, being extremely careful not to accidentally disconnect a wire for the heart monitor. You started on his upper arms.

“The boys feel like shit. They all think there was something they could’ve done to prevent it, even though everyone knows it was just a stupid accident. Benny’s taking it really hard.”

You brought your free hand to his lower stomach, your fingertips tracing random shapes and patterns into his skin as you moved the cloth over his right shoulder, your eyes glued to your movements.

“I miss you so much,” you sighed, shaking your head slowly. “I mean, I know you’re right fucking here, but you know what I mean. I miss your hugs, your kisses. Your voice. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes of yours.”

The tears started before you even had a chance to realize. You could feel them trailing down your cheeks, falling onto the sheets below.

“I just really need you to be okay, you hear me baby? I need you.”

Your voice cracked, and you felt yourself begin to shake, the sobs moving through your body with relentless force. You made yourself stay quiet though, not wanting to scare a nurse or a family down the hall, or even Santi himself.

Nothing had ever been so hard. This entire experience had been more than difficult, but as you sat there, thinking about how things could have gone in an entirely different direction, and how you could have walked away a widow instead of a wife, you realized exactly how true Casey’s words had been. Santi really was lucky, and so were you.

And if this was hard for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it would be for him once he was fully conscious again, and able to make sense of everything that he’d been through. The doctors were still unsure of just how far his brain injury ran, but they were sure there were things that would take time to come back to him — like his ability to speak, possibly his ability to walk. They predicted that he’d have migraines for months. Light sensitivity, some dizziness and confusion that could last just as long. Fatigue, general weakness. Pain. His recovery was going to be hell, and there you were, having sat by his bedside for four days feeling sorry for yourself.

How could you have been so selfish? In a time where your husband needed you most?

You felt selfish even crying, but you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept pouring, and the hole in your chest grew and grew as you continued to spiral deeper and deeper into your thoughts.

You were only pulled from them when you felt a set of knuckles gently brush against your cheek, and for a moment, you thought one of the boys had managed to sneak their way in, or maybe it was even Casey coming to check in one last time before heading home for the night.

The last thing you expected to see when you blinked your eyes open was a familiar pair of warm brown ones staring right back at you.

Brown eyes full of recognition and worry.

You gasped, not able to stop the sound before it left your lips, but you did refrain from throwing your arms around him, knowing the action would probably hurt him or knock something loose. Instead, you reached up, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Santi?”

He blinked a couple of times, looking as if he wanted to say something in response, but he could only frown, and you knew him well enough to notice that his inability to speak was already frustrating him.

But you almost took that as a good thing, because it showed that he remembered waking up before, and how he hadn’t been able to speak any of those times either. The fact that he remembered was good, right?

And he might not have been able to verbally speak, but there were still so many things he could say without words. You felt him squeeze your hand, three times — a silent “I love you”, something he had started doing not long after saying it to you for the first time.

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

He pulled on your hand, trying to bring you closer to him, and you started to shake your head, still worried about hurting him.

“Santi, no-”

This time he gently smacked your hand, effectively silencing you as he pointed to his shoulder, and you knew what he was trying to tell you — you wouldn’t hurt him if you were only lying against his shoulder.

He knew exactly what you were thinking without you needing to speak, too.

And you couldn’t deny him, not when he was looking at you with those puppy dog eyes he knew would get him anything he wanted.

You tossed the washcloth back into the water, and pulled his gown back up, redoing the ties before scooting further up the bed. You made sure that everything was out of the way before leaning back against him, keeping your eyes trained on his face the entire time. Only when he didn’t flinch did you finally relax.

And you both simply laid there, staring at one another, letting your eyes do all of the talking. Neither of you looked away, not even once. Not until Santi’s eyes started to close again, his exhaustion taking over once more. You kissed the corner of his mouth, and you watched as his lips twitched upwards into a small smile before he gave into unconsciousness.

He’d managed to stay awake for over half an hour this go around, and for twenty minutes the next time he woke up, and another twenty after that.

And when morning came and Casey walked into the room for the first round of her shift, all she could do was smile.

Santiago was awake again, and you were the one asleep, lightly snoring from your place on his shoulder, looking so completely at peace.

And he was looking at you like he was the luckiest man alive.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier imagine

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

Dildos and Hayfever

Harringrove April prompt day 13, Hayfever. Detective Billy Hargrove's had a rough time lately, and Captain Hopper assigns him a partner who'll either make everything worse...or everything better.

“All you need to know is he’s the commissioner’s son,” rang in Billy’s head as he stalked down the hall. Hopper had followed up with “I told him you were fresh out of rehab,” and “I’m sure you can remember enough of the ropes to show him, right, it’s not like he’s gonna be doing the work anyway,” and Billy gritted his teeth, punching the elevator buttons with a vengeance.

The light flickered, worsening the headache that always came on in the spring when all the flowers bloomed, and every tree on every sidewalk in the city shot its rocks off in midair—or when he had to walk into the office of the captain. This morning, to his utmost joy, he’d had both, and he took the opportunity of alone time in the elevator to blow his nose, hard.

Captain Hopper meant well, probably, Billy told himself, and set his shoulders.

He found the right building because of the smoke pouring out half the upper windows, the six fire trucks, and the EMTs coming out with the victims—a nice brownstone, before. Billy looked—somewhat hopelessly—for an elevator, sighed, and hauled himself up seven flights of stairs, sneezing.

Police Commissioner Harrington’s son was interviewing witnesses. Billy’d seen him before—always with his own office, always flirting with whoever worked reception, always with his uniform tailored. How he’d brokered a transfer to Major Crimes was a riddle Billy couldn’t wait to ask about—though if he was absolute dead weight, Hopper would probably come up with another solution to Billy’s bullshit, and kick Harrington back onto a desk somewhere.

Harrington was on an upper landing, listening to a black lady and her husband. They looked in their...seventies, maybe, well-off, both crying, and clutching tabby cats. “I can speak to you later,” he said gently, “—if you’d like to—” but the woman shook her head, grabbing his hand.

“He’s a good boy,” she said, sniffling, “—and you better catch whoever did this. Anyone who could do this. There aren’t many young men ready to haul an old lady’s groceries up nine flights, or open her pickle jars, either. Anything we can tell you—”

The man nodded too, holding her hand, and Harrington crouched, jotting down their story, while Billy showed his ID and ducked under the crime scene tape into the half-gutted apartment. He listened as he pulled the whole crime scene kit on, his gloves, mask, booties, and haircap and all.

It smelled horrible, still thick with greasy smoke that clung to the inside of Billy’s sinuses, and he was grateful for the mask.

The parts of the apartment that hadn’t caught fire were nice—nicer than he could afford, certainly—with art everywhere, photos, paintings...and a floor-to-ceiling, sculptural mobile he couldn’t help thinking looked like a cock. He surveyed the scene—a coffee table with wine glasses for two, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and chocolate dick-shaped marshmallows, in front of a couch with penis-shaped pillows.

There was a spray-painted ‘GOD HATES F—’ on the wall, the last word obscured by char from the fire, but Billy honestly wasn’t sure it was new, given the decor in general, and the adjacent broken glass glued to the wall in a penis shape. He leaned in and sniffed it, and he could still smell the fumes of the paint. He snapped a few pictures of it, for later.

When he backed up to get a wider view, his shoulder thumped into someone. “Sorry,” said Harrington, and then, showing why he’d made detective, “...that huge thing on the ceiling kinda looks like a dick.”

“A lot of things in this apartment do, you’ll find,” said Wheeler, the lead CSI, raising her eyebrows at Billy with a smirk. He tensed, a little, but she just started giving him the report, and he nearly shut his eyes in relief. “Including the weapon.” She waved at a bagged, cement dong sculpture that looked like art deco. “It probably didn’t take any prints,” she said, sighing, “—with a gritty surface like that.” Harrington grimaced, wincing, and touching his head.

“The victim will probably regain consciousness,” Wheeler went on. “He left the windows open all along that side of the apartment,” she pointed, “—and with as windy as it’s been today, it sucked the fire away from him, so he didn’t get much smoke inhalation.”

“What even...robbery?” Harrington asked, then, “Domestic violence?” and she grimaced, clicking around on her tablet.

“From his phone, it looks like a first date. We’re going over it with a fine-tooth comb, though,” she said, frowning at Billy, then down at her tablet. “Since the assailant obviously wanted the crime scene burned to the ground.”

Billy nodded, his eyes watering either from the fumes, or the pollen count. He sneezed inside his mask, and grimaced as it stuck to his face wetly. “Who is the victim?” he asked, sighing, and wrinkling his nose.

“Ishaq Hill,” Harrington put in, glancing between them. “Profession, camboy. Posted photos and videos of himself, pinup style mostly, artsy, sometimes naked. Neighbors don’t think it was stressing him out any, though, he just talked about being single a lot.”

Wheeler raised her eyebrows. “Because of the head trauma, they’re keeping him in a medically induced coma, so we can’t ask him what happened at least until tomorrow. But look,” she said, leaning between them to flick between photos on her tablet. She zoomed in on the victim’s crotch, and Billy automatically shot an alarmed glance at the nearest human, who happened to be Harrington, his brown eyes frowning back.

“Was there evidence of sexual assault?” he asked, and Wheeler shook her head, waving him closer.

“No, no, look,” she said, zooming it in further. “It’s hard to see, but look, the harness. The color, there, against his white vinyl? It’s a leather harness, dyed rainbow tie-dye. The straps are cut—and it’s empty.”

Billy stared at her. “...you’re saying the victim is trans,” he said slowly, making sure he had it right, “—and the attempted murderer stole his dick.”

“What the hell,” Harrington breathed.

She raised her eyebrows, waving her arms in a dramatic shrug. “I have no idea! But go look, there’s another one in the bedroom—” she pointed, and then bent back to sweeping something into a tiny ziploc bag.

In the bedroom, Harrington pointed at the waist-to-hip sculpture of a man, used to demo, apparently, turquoise leather straps similar to the rainbow straps they could make out in the photos. This one had a securely-fitted glass dildo in it with a whole blown-glass coral reef inside. Harrington bent close to stare at the cock made of tiny jellyfish and anemones, while Billy took in the display on the dresser—a whole array of fancy condoms and butt plugs, with decorated stands, and nameplates.

“He must have used this stuff in videos,” Harrington said. “Like, you know, unboxing.”

“I think he probably filmed less taking them out and more more putting them in things,” Billy muttered, as Harrington snickered, and then waved at the small, rhinestoned pastry stand labeled ‘God <3 Fags’. It was empty.

He looked over to see whether Harrington had noticed the empty stand, but he was fiddling with his phone. “...doesn’t look like he had any nasty public messages, or anything,” he said, frowning. “I’ll look through his account when we get back—”

“I’m gonna see where he gets all these dildos,” Billy said, frowning at one with what looked like birthday candles, and ‘Ishaq 23rd’ floating inside. He pulled a drawer open, and found a few boxed vibrators, and a lot of lingerie. “Some of this stuff has to be custom. Maybe they’ll know which one got stolen.”

“Oh,” Harrington said, brightening. “Good idea!”

“You can call around,” Billy told him, and Harrington shot him a sideways glance that made Billy wonder if he was gonna be a shithead about his dad being the commissioner, but he just nodded. He dropped into a chair at a desk out on the floor like any other cop when they got back to the precinct, searching up both Ishaq Hill’s social media, and local sex shops.

Billy went to find coffee and gossip, avoiding the old guard—his father’s friends.

“Steve’s all right,” said Holland, another CSI he thought he could trust, since she was friends with Wheeler. She considered, crossing her arms. “Everybody figures he’ll be bad at the job, so he gets all the desk work, and he’s kind of obnoxious, but he’ll get down and dust vac a bloody trunk, if you need him to.”

Hagen in Vice sneered, and yelled for everyone to come say hey to Neil Hargrove’s son, back from rehab, and Billy turned on his heel and stalked back to his own department, his heart racing.

He returned to hand Harrington a vending machine coffee, and Harrington looked grateful, toasting him in the air as he talked on the phone. “No, ma’am, I’m not trying to make any trouble. No, it’s nothing like—” he groaned, leaning his head against the handset, then sipped his coffee, and hit redial. “Hey, I’m looking to buy custom, handmade dildos. I’ve got a—” he grimaced at the wall, screwed up his face in thought, and then shrugged, glancing at Billy, and grimacing as he sighed. “I’ve got a highschool ring I wanna put in a dildo. Uh, go 2011!” He listened. “Oh, you do? Oh, thanks so much,” he said, writing down a phone number, and mumbling more thank yous.

“What’d you get?” Billy asked.

“Just another store to try,” Steve muttered. He kicked the desk, and rolled a couple feet closer to hand the post-it note to Billy. “They don’t want to talk to me until I want a weird sex toy,” he said, flushing a little, but laughing. “I’ve looked for one with plastic dinosaurs in it, a butt plug with my old glass eye—”

Billy snorted his coffee, coughing as Harrington scrambled up to pat his back.

“I think one time I maybe said moose antlers,” he muttered, counting off on his fingers. “That one must think I’m pretty weird.”

“Not the eyeball one though,” Billy choked out, trying not to die. “The fake eye ass plug store thinks that’s normal as shit.”

“I just mean,” Steve said, blushing, and waving his arms in a vaguely antler-like shape from his head, “—moose antlers wouldn’t probably fit in my ass, you know?”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Billy gasped, wiping his eyes, leaned in to where Harrington had brought up Hill’s social media, and scrolled.

“What’s all this shit about the Westboro Baptist Church?” he asked.

Steve was mumbling and scribbling, and then he hung up. “Oh,” he nodded. “They’ve been spamming ‘God Hates Fags’ on all his sites. He’s been doing a big photoshoot with teasers, kind of...at them? He kept tagging them. It’s gone viral.” He held out his phone, and Billy was treated to a lock screen of their assault victim on his knees, arms out like he was singing, his glittery dick spurting a cartoon rainbow.

“...sorry, that’s not very professional,” Harrington said, grimacing, and yanking it back. “I’ll change it.”

“Did you see this at the crime scene?” Billy asked him, yanking his phone out and showing Harrington the spray-painted ‘GOD HATES F—’ he’d found on the wall.

“Holy shit,” Harrington said. “Eugh, imagine them knowing where you live. Shit, I didn’t even notice that.” He sighed, and Billy kicked his chair, lightly.

“Kinda busy walls in that place,” he pointed out, and Steve shot him a smirk.

“Hargrove!” a familiar voice yelled, and Detective Holloway ran up and gave Billy a hug. “You look so good!” she told him, and then nodded at Harrington, and smiled back at Billy. “We found the guy the date was with on Grindr. They’re bringing him in.”

It was nice to have somebody happy to see him, even if her face made him kinda uncomfortable, knowing she’d been the one to catch him drinking in the supply room after all the—after.

“Make him wait,” Billy said, considering. “I wanna go through the conversations on Grindr. He can work up some nerves first.”

“He’s ex-military,” she said, grimacing. “His CV says his last job was as a ‘fully armed and trained combat specialist’ who did security for diamond mines in war-torn areas. I don’t think you’re gonna make him nervous.”

“Eugh,” Harrington said, making a face. “I can see why that date didn’t go well. He probably dresses like a supervillain.”

Holloway’s look at him was a little withering, and he shut up, turning back to sit at his computer. “Lemme know if you need anything,” she told Billy, frowning into his face, and he pushed her shoulder away, quirking his mouth.

“...I’m okay,” he told her, and she didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t hug him again, at least.

“How are you doing?” Harrington asked, after she’d left, and after swallowing half the cup of coffee in one chipmunk-cheeked slurp. He wiped his mouth, blinking wide brown eyes up at Billy, and Billy groaned.

“Look, about what the captain—”

“I know the story,” Harrington said, tossing back the rest of the coffee like a bathtub drain. Billy reminded himself to make Harrington pee before they got in a car together, like a little kid on a road trip. “My dad’s the commissioner, I know the whole...thing,” he said, grimacing. “You shoulda got a commendation.”

“...he was a dirty cop,” Billy grunted, hunching his shoulders. “It’s our job to make sure—”

“Yeah, it is,” Steve agreed, nodding at his screen, and Billy relaxed a little, out from under the weight of sympathetic eyes. “It’s our job, but not everybody does it. And you knew what it was gonna be like.”

“I did,” Billy said, grimacing. “I thought I did.”

“Hey, they let me into Major Crimes for this,” Harrington laughed, unhappily. “Even if my police work isn’t up to scratch, they won’t try anything on you if I’m standing there.”

Billy watched him, and felt a kind of brotherhood, suddenly, looking at Harrington’s tight smile, and tense shoulders. “...police work’s been okay so far,” he said, and Harrington shot him a startled grin. “I’m gonna go...call the hospital,” Billy told him, suddenly needing to be somewhere else. “Maybe swing by and take a look at our victim.”

“Oh,” Harrington said, nodding.

Billy had a few more pictures of the harness sent over—Wheeler was right about what it was, at least—and then they brought the ex-military Grindr date in. He didn’t look that intimidating, actually—his huge biceps were flexed as he held kleenex over his nose, sneezing so hard every few feet he staggered, and he was wearing a t-shirt with a badly-designed logo for a Queer Youth Charity Marathon.

“Hey,” Harrington whispered, touching his shoulder just before they went inside. “Uh, there’s a lot of hate on there from the Westboro Baptist Church. Like, they were getting specific, said someone doxxed him.”

In the interrogation room, their person of interest sneezed so hard snot dangled from both his nostrils, like a drooly dog. Steve snorted a laugh, and walked off to lean against another detective’s desk—Carol’s, Billy thought.

“Can I bribe you for some of that kleenex?” he asked, leaning in like he was flirting on a movie poster, and Carol laughed out loud, and hit him with it.

“Take it and git,” she said, and Steve ran back, grinning.

“Here we go,” he said, handing one to Billy. “One for you, the rest of the box for him.”

“I didn’t even stay for the whole date,” said Braxton Haglund, 34 years old, dark haired and caucasian, with a tattoo Billy could see peeking from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Haglund blew his nose, again, and the kleenex was so wet it made a noise as he dropped it against the table. “He’d left the windows all open. I walked up so many stairs—” he sneezed, miserably, several times, wadding handfuls of kleenex under his nose, and wiping his eyes.

“God,” he mumbled. “If I didn’t have hayfever, I’d probably still have been there when...whatever happened,” he said, between sneezes. His wide shoulders were hunched despairingly, and even Harrington had a sympathetic grimace. “Dunno if I’d have been much use, though.”

“Did you see anyone as you left?” Billy asked, and Haglund thought, taking deep breaths between blowing his nose.

“...nobody that stood out,” he said. “Some neighbors, maybe. Think I walked into somebody, once, my eyes were watering.”

He hadn’t seen anybody going in, either, so after they let him leave, Billy spent a while scrolling through all the victim’s media accounts. Harrington stayed doggedly on tracking down the dildo maker—Billy nearly felt sorry for him, except it was giving Billy such a good read on what to expect—and he was coming up with a continuous stream of weird sex toys to be in search of. “I’m an author,” he told one. “I want a dildo containing the pen I wrote my first book with.” He jotted down another number, called it, sighed, and tried again. “Uh, I want a dildo full of baby teeth—” he started, and then stopped, frowning at the phone. “They hung up,” he said, sounding betrayed.

“Wouldn’t you?!” Billy asked, smiling despite having to see comment after comment by the Westboro Baptist Church. He found further reasons to hate them, but nothing specifically actionable, so he finally stretched and grabbed his jacket. “I’m done for the day,” he called over the other empty desks.

“Go ahead,” Harrington said, frowning at the screen. “I won’t stay much longer. How the hell hard can this be, really?”

He was there before Billy the next morning, his jaw set, with dark shadows under his eyes. Billy detoured to the coffee machine first, and plonked it down in front of him, and Harington rewarded him with widening eyes, and then a bewildered stare.

“...thanks,” he said softly, then smirked up through a yawn. “Heard back from the arson investigators, and guess what? The fire looks accidental.” He bounced a little in his chair, and Billy wondered whether he was really into murder mysteries, or whether he was just trying to stay awake. “There was a pan on the stove, some kind of chocolate fondue, they think. Just caught fire, and with Ishaq unconscious, nobody turned off the stove.”

“...lucky bastard,” Billy said, grimacing, and Harrington raised his eyebrows.

“You think? Oh, also, guess what—I found her. Our dildo artist. She’s not all that local, but she did send me a few pictures of the dildos she’s made for our guy.”

“Had to track her down eventually,” Billy said, sipping his coffee, and then caught the way Harrington just bit his lips, his jaw tensing.

“Good job,” Billy told him, feeling a little...stupid, like he was praising a dog, but Harrington brightened, smirking up at him again.

Billy studied the printouts, as Harrington spun around on his chair, guzzling down coffee, and explaining his triumph. “She says that photoshoot that had the Westboro Baptist Church up in arms? Upcoming? Get this,” he said, getting up to lean over Billy’s shoulder. “—they’re pissed because our boy was staying at a hotel once with the new leader, Steven Drain. He pretended to be maid service, snuck in, and took the guy’s wedding ring, and made it into a dildo. He describes it as ‘surrounded by rainbow unicorn confetti and delicious queer flesh’. Our victim stole his wedding ring,” Harrington cackled, beaming. “I’m subscribing to his...everything.”

“Lemme see if any of these comments can be traced to Steven Drain,” Billy said, heading off to ask someone to do computer magic. Steve hopped up and came with him, which was kinda weird, but it was nice to walk down a hall without people shoulder-slamming him like he wasn’t there.

“Hate that he has my name,” Steve muttered, as they walked back. “Drain’s got restraining orders for beating up and threatening two young teenagers his daughter talked to, it’s on the public record. We could see what kinda injuries they had,” Harrington said. “...imagine taking down the whole Westboro church.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Billy laughed, dropping into his own chair as Harrington got more coffee, then called around and discovered the assailants had both been right-handed.

“Get this,” he said excitedly, “—Steven Drain is in town. Gay soldier’s wedding, they’re planning to picket it and scream at his widower, you know, their whole thing, but he flew in the night before the assault.”

“We should talk to him,” Billy said, most of his brain on the photos of dildos and butt plugs.

“Can’t we just drop a piano on him?” Steve muttered, and Billy snorted, flicking back through, and trying to figure out what was bugging him about the dildos. There were lots of them, more than Billy’d seen in the victim’s room, and Billy stopped, squinting at his phone screen at one that looked like it was full of tiny antique coins. “...wait,” he muttered. “Where did you say she lived? Dildo lady?”

“Upstate,” Harrington told him, blinking up at him, as he held his pen on the list of neighbors he’d called to ask whether they’d seen anyone that looked like Steven Drain.

“I need to talk to Dildo Lady,” Billy announced, and Harrington blinked at him, then glanced at his screen and back to Billy, waiting. “...we should go talk to her,” Billy amended, and Harrington grinned, grabbing his jacket.

“Should we talk to Drain first?” he asked, “—since he’s local?”

“Let’s wait and see the CSI reports,” Billy told him. “We’ll be on a lot firmer ground if he clipped his nails after he clocked Ishaq Hill upside the head.”

“Hard to believe somebody that loud went down quietly,” Harrington said, nodding. “There’ll probably be hair or something. Even if he doesn’t wake up and tell us. I called this morning—he’s out of danger, it sounds like,” he said, grimacing, and Billy nodded.

“Nice if we can tell him it’s all handled, though,” he said, and Harrington laughed.

“That’s a definite yep.”

Billy led the way to the level where his car was parked, and then stopped.

His car had dead rats on it. He walked closer, and there was a scratch where somebody’d jimmied his window, and tossed more rats inside, and suddenly he longed for a drink.

“Shit,” Harrington said, putting an arm around his shoulders to steer him away, and whipping out his phone. “Yeah, hey—”

“Stop,” Billy hissed, grabbing for it. “You’ll just make it worse, don’t tell your fucking dad—”

“Wheeler,” Harrington said. “Mmm, yeah, you know you said you had some CSI training to do? I’ve got a, uh, little crime scene in the parking garage. Could you get your most annoying rookie to come down and—yeah. Yeah, blue Camaro, license plate PCE 235.” He listened for a long second, and then thanked her again, tucking his phone away.

“...shit,” Billy sighed, as Harrington manhandled him to a different car.

To his relief, Harrington didn’t say anything sympathetic. After a few minutes, driving at a snail’s pace through downtown traffic, he took a breath, and Billy’s hands twitched. “Huh,” Harrington said, glancing down, and then biting his lips in a cartoonishly intent face.

“...jesus, just say whatever it is,” Billy told him, snorting a laugh, and sipping his coffee.

“Sorry your dad is a bastard asshole shithead,” Harrington said, wincing, and Billy choked again, coughing and spluttering coffee down his shirt, but he hadn’t been able to laugh about it before, ever, and it felt good, even if he tried to breathe coffee, and couldn’t stop coughing.

When he could finally draw breath, he sighed contentedly, leaning his head against the window. “...he is, isn’t he,” he said.

“He is, and so are most of the officers he came up from the academy with,” Steve said, clenching his hands on the steering wheel. “My dad too. He didn’t—ugh.”

“What?” Billy asked, curious, suddenly, about Steve Harrington, instead of just the commissioner’s son.

“He didn’t want me to transfer,” Harrington muttered. “He said Major Crimes doesn’t need the dead weight. Hopper had to kinda go out on a limb. I fuck up and I’m kicked all the way down to traffic, I think.”

The thought that the commissioner had stepped in to help Billy, Detective Neil Hargrove’s son, had gotten Billy through some long nights in rehab. He drew a long breath, realizing he was even more alone than he’d thought. “...shit,” he said softly. His eyes stung.

“It’s fine,” Harrington said. “Hopper’s got your back. There are enough of us. I’ll lean on Hagen some, I think I can talk him around. It’s good you turned your dad in. You did a good thing, and everybody shit on you for it,” he growled, glancing over. “I’ve got your back. Jesus, man, don’t cry.”

“It’s the pollen,” Billy said thickly.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I have hayfever,” Billy hissed at him, rubbing his face.

The Dildo Lady looked about sixty, Pakistani probably, and wore a hijab. Her name was Faiza Khalol, and she was delighted to tell them about her work.

“Do you have any better pictures of these?” Billy asked her, showing her the one with the coins in it. “Or could you describe them?”

She could, as it turned out—and even better, when she’d asked about them, Hill had given her one, and she handed Billy a tiny silver coin which, after some googling, he thought might be an Athenian drachma.

“Oh,” she whispered, her brows drawing together. “Um, is it valuable?”

“I have no idea,” Billy told her, but flicked to another picture. “But these are, I think.” The clear butt-plug was full of greyish crystals, with a huge one where it would show.

“I didn’t see these in his dresser,” Harrington said, leaning in warmly against him, and Billy annoyed himself by shivering.

“No. These are uncut diamonds, I think.” Faiza and Harrington gasped satisfyingly, and Billy grinned. “Ishaq Hill stole more than a wedding ring, I think. We’ve had the wrong motive.”

“Braxton Haglund guarded diamond mines,” Harrington breathed. “He’d probably recognize them. Did Ishaq post pictures with these?”

“He always put up pictures of my latest work,” Faiza said, covering her mouth in horror. “Do you think…”

“I think we better talk to Braxton Haglund again,” Billy said, reveling in Harrington’s impressed grin.

“You’ve got duthing on be,” Haglund gasped, blowing his nose miserably. “You gan’t brove I saw ‘s pictures. You gan’t brove anything.”

Billy tried to parse that for a long second, and then, for Harrington, who looked bewildered, said, “Oh, that’s not all we have. Have you wondered,” he said, turning to his partner, who grinned back, “—how anyone could come in to Ishaq Hill’s apartment, clonk him from behind with a dick sculpture, then search his apartment, and not notice he’d left chocolate heating on the stove? Chocolate burns fast,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Haglund. “How did you not notice the smell?”

“His hayfever,” Harrington breathed, his eyes widening at Billy as his cheeks flushed, and Haglund slammed his fist on the table, opened his mouth to yell, and then stopped to blow his nose, and sneeze.

“Also while you were waiting,” Billy told Haglind with satisfaction, “—we searched your apartment. The warrant judge was convinced by our diamond-and-hayfever argument, and guess what we found?”

Haglund’s eyes widened in horror, and his back thudded against his chair as Billy shot Harrington a grin, and Harrington smirked back. “Good job framing a hate group for the crime,” Billy said, his grin widening, “—but why were Ishaq Hill’s dildos on the table in your front room?”

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done

#Harringrove April #harringrove #Ridiculous #Billy and Steve like each other more than they thought #=D

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alicemarion · 4 years

Text

OUTLAST : THE MURKOFF ACCOUNT ( PART 2 ) sentence starters !

this prompt was made using dialogue from issues #4 , #5 and #6 of outlast : the murkoff account by red barrels . feel free to edit any of these to make them more suitable !

“ _____ wasn’t fucking around about disappearing . ”

“ our chances of finding a lead in this are vanishingly slim . ”

“ what you got there ? ”

“ i hate it when they have families . ”

“ since when did _____ hurt women and kids ? ”

“ sorry , that was in bad taste . ”

“ he’s been gone for a while now . ”

“ i saw him back just last night . ”

“ i saw him , standing right over there . ”

“ drove my dogs batshit , which is weird . ”

“ they always used to like him . ”

“ _____ said _____ was here last night . ”

“ it’d take us days to find him under all this shit if he was . ”

“ guess we better get started then . ”

“ it’s garbage . ”

“ is ... is some of this garbage moving ? ”

“ ants . the place is infested . ”

“ what do you mean ? ”

“ emailed him ants . not the strangest thing i’ve seen . ”

“ these look like passwords . ”

“ ouch ! ”

“ little fucker bit me . ”

“ black ants don’t bite . ”

“ motherfucker ! motherfuckfuckfuck - ”

“ they’re all over me ! jesus ! ”

“ not there ! not there ! ”

“ water ! water ! ”

“ goddammit ! make room ! i’m coming in ! ”

“ fuck this ! ”

“ it’s not working ! ”

“ we need fire ! ”

“ take your fucking clothes off ! ”

“ now do me ! ”

“ got anything i could wear ? ”

“ nope . ”

“ what the fuck am i gonna do ? ”

“ hey , that’s the same homeless guy . ”

“ that’s not possible . ”

“ i’m sure it’s him . he’s following us . ”

“ hey ! stop ! ”

“ where’d you go ... ? ”

“ you work for _____ , don’t you ? ”

“ ... who are you ? ”

“ i believe you’ve heard of me . ”

“ you’ve been following us . ”

“ what’s your name ? ”

“ yes . i’ve been watching you . ”

“ you’ve got something most running dog mercenaries don’t . ”

“ i’m not a mercenary . ”

“ you’ve got shame . you know what you’re doing is wrong . ”

“ it’s a job . ”

“ but you’re somebody who’d chase after me , despite the fact that you’re injured and naked . who does that ? ”

“ ... i can’t stand not knowing . ”

“ tell me your name . ”

“ i’ve read your files , _____ . ”

“ six years ago you leaked company files and vanished . ”

“ been off the map ever since , encouraging other whistleblowers . ”

“ you’re trying to destroy _____ . ”

“ of course i am . ”

“ they’re evil . you work for the devil . ”

“ you’re protecting _____ ? ”

“ you’ll never find him . ”

“ i couldn’t tell you if i knew . ”

“ willful ignorance . i remember that . almost let me sleep some nights . ”

“ how do you sleep ? ”

“ how do you justify working for people you know are evil ? ”

“ _____ was a pebble in a pond . ”

“ that is where the real sickness spreads . ”

“ those are coordinates . ”

“ if you cannot look at what’s there and not eat yourself hollow with shame , you’re not human anymore . ”

“ i need your help . ”

“ i need somebody still inside _____ . ”

“ i’m not asking , i’m telling you . you’re going to help me . ”

“ ... i have to do my job . ”

“ what are you ... the fuck ?! ”

“ freeze ! i said freeze , motherfucker ! ”

“ i’m leaving . ”

“ please don’t make me hurt you . ”

“ he’s ... a monster . ”

“ what was he shoving in your face ? ”

“ fucked if i know . ”

“ let’s get you some clothes before i get too turned on . ”

“ dental records . my identification . he wasn’t done with me . ”

“ and we weren’t done with him . ”

“ this make any kind of sense to you ? ”

“ nothing i feel good about . ”

“ but at least it closes the books for now . ”

“ the evidence couldn’t get any more thoroughly destroyed . ”

“ there is one more thing . ”

“ nothing i know of . ”

“ i wouldn’t put too much faith in anything i heard from an animated pile of maggots . ”

“ maybe we should check it out . ”

“ nah , leave it alone . ”

“ you should get home , spend some time with your daughter ... make sure she doesn’t grow up to be somebody like me . ”

“ he ain’t gonna let us get away . ”

“ every step we take , the less power he got . ”

“ we’ll get to the wicked part of the world , and god hisself ain’t even gonna be able to find us . ”

“ do you know if yeshua - ha nostri was a real person ? like , in the bible ? ”

“ never heard of him . ”

“ when’s that book report due ? ”

“ you’re getting an early jump . ”

“ figured i’d be too beat to work on wednesday . ”

“ you didn’t touch your dinner . ”

“ i wasn’t hungry . it’s not like i need the extra calories . ”

“ _____ , honey , that’s crazy . ”

“ you’re a string bean . a beautiful string bean . ”

“ shut up , _____ , god ... ”

“ there’s somebody messing with our mailbox . ”

“ your daughter is connected . ”

“ my partner and i had agreed not to investigate . ”

“ turns out i was lying . ”

“ i hear you now . where are you ? it’s noisy . ”

“ sorry to interrupt you on a sunday ... ”

“ you’re not interrupting anything . ”

“ i was just ... folding laundry , listening to prairie home companion . ”

“ i don’t think i’m gonna make it into the office tomorrow . ”

“ i need to spend some time with _____ . ”

“ no worries . we all need personal time . ”

“ fuck me ... no service ! ”

“ i guess the heat and the sun got to me . ”

“ heavenly god . ”

“ _____ ? what’s wrong ? ”

“ are they out of hot chocolate ? ”

“ multiple perforations of the intestines ... spread throughout her blood ... had to induce a coma in order to arrest progress ... internal bleeding ... ”

“ surgery is no longer an option . ”

“ _____ is dead . i’m so sorry . ”

“ aiiee ! ”

“ i’m so sorry honey , i didn’t mean ... ”

“ we don’t want no trouble ! ”

“ i’m just gon’ take your pistol . ”

“ hey , hey , take it easy . jesus fucking christ ... ”

“ don’t you take that name in vain ! ”

“ safety’s on . ”

“ who’s the girl ? ”

“ jesus , how pregnant is she ? ”

“ god have mercy on your soul . ”

“ i’m not going to hurt you . ”

“ you need helllll ... ”

“ mmm - hmm . ”

“ that’s all you got ? ‘ mmm - hmm ? ’ ”

“ i heard you . it’s the least crazy thing you’ve told me so far . ”

“ fair enough . ”

“ you are in such deep shit . ”

“ i know . ”

“ you lied to me , you went off the reservation . ”

“ what the fuck are you doing , _____ ? ”

“ i fucked up . ”

“ don’t fuck yourself any deeper . i’m on my way . ”

“ spill . ”

“ okay , number one , you work for _____ , not _____ . ”

“ number two , you don’t interfere with ongoing experiments . ”

“ we only enter the equation when the science is done and the side effects need mopping up . ”

“ shit , you don’t even know if this is an experiment . ”

“ and number three , fuck you . ”

“ you don’t work without me . we’re partners , you stupid motherfucker . ”

“ sorr ... ”

“ don’t say you’re sorry . i hate that . ”

“ you want the silver lining to your shit show ? ”

“ you don’t suppose you brought me a suit ? ”

“ i even brought you a tie . hope yellow’s alright . ”

“ you called it a ‘ vision ’ . not a hallucination . ”

“ it felt real . ”

“ first rule in the playbook is don’t get high on your own product . ”

“ what about brain injury ? ”

“ the scan must have been corrupted . ”

“ is there more to your testimony ? ”

“ yes , of course , excuse me . i was just ... ”

“ could we see those brain scans ? ”

“ they’re already off to the lab , but we have copies . ”

“ evidence , all of it . this had become a matter of containment . ”

“ we’d love to meet the patient . ”

“ the little guy in here has been kicking up a storm . ”

“ is that a tattoo ? ”

“ a globe . no , wheels . ‘ wheels within wheels ’ . that’s biblical , from the book of ... ezekiel . ”

“ you can’t have him ! you can’t . i’ll die before i’ll let you kill him . ”

“ i seen the messenger and i know i ain’t burdened with the enemy . ”

“ my blood is true , i’ve sipped at the fountain and borne the pain and marks of salvation . ”

“ you ain’t gonna take my baby , you ain’t ... ain’t ... ”

“ get a doctor ! ”

“ doctor ! ”

“ we lost her . we need to leave , now . ”

“ she’s dead , gone . there was nothing we could do . ”

“ minimal footprint . ”

“ i realized too late i was operating above my security clearance . ”

“ are you sure she was dead ? ”

“ yeah , case closed . ”

“ it’s sad . ”

“ still , i gotta get home . i said i’d be there . ”

“ you’re a good dad ... you always take care of your girl . ”

“ _____ ! you home ?! ”

“ you work for us now . ”

“ we didn’t find dick . ”

“ there we go , my child . every last drop of salvation . your children are waiting for you in heaven . ”

“ god does not pour half measures . ”

“ the storm is abating . all these undeserved blessings . ”

“ he’s still not answering . ”

“ send people to his house . ”

“ they’ve been feeding _____ information . ”

“ that’s no good . ”

“ i’d put my money on _____ . ”

“ if we find him , i’ll put electrodes on _____ . ”

“ how many bodies we looking at ? ”

“ hundreds . it’ll take us days to get them all sorted . ”

“ lot of these local corpses show signs of cyanide poisoning . ”

“ god damn this guy’s heavy ... ”

“ that doesn’t look like cyanide . ”

“ yeah , a lot of them got creative about dying . ”

“ took a lot of what killed her to get the job done . ”

“ last name sounds like a crustacean you’re not supposed to eat . ”

“ how did you know ? ”

“ he was supposed to be making sure they didn’t find this place . ”

“ we got one breathing here ! ”

“ ‘ and i only am escaped alone to tell thee . ’ ”

“ is that from wrath of khan ? ”

“ it’s actually book of job , by way of moby ... ”

“ i know what it is , you don’t have to try and impress me . ”

“ well , holy shit . ”

“ his eyes are all pupil . completely catatonic . ”

“ we need to dig in his head . don’t be gentle . ”

“ they rarely are . ”

“ there’s blood on the walls . looks like something was written and smeared away . ”

“ what do you want to do ? ”

“ actually , no . do me a favor and find his corpse , because if he’s still alive , he’s fucking dangerous . ”

“ where’s _____ ? ”

“ you’re asking the wrong question . ”

“ i’ll still help you find the answer , but you’ll need to trust me . ”

“ dead , twice . ”

“ how about you just tell me whatever it is you want to tell me . ”

“ it’s not surprising religion would be such an effective delivery mechanism . ”

“ gods communicating with men , gods dividing themselves into components that men could understand . a trinity . ”

“ in the name of the father ... and of the son ... and of the holy spirit . amen . ”

#prompt.#sentence starters #sentence prompt #outlast rp

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hotchgan · 3 years

Text

How to Save a Life: Chapter 2

Summery: Chris and Aaron get engaged but one fatal car crash changes everything.

A/N: This is connected to my two other fics called The Text Message and The Text Message pt 2. And yes, I stole the title from the song called How to Save a Life.

Taglist: @ellyhotchner @unionjackpillow @eleanorbloom

Warnings: Car crash, drunk driver, injuries, panic attacks, coma

Here is part one!

Aaron’s face went from shock to anger. His ex, Blake, had crashed into them while drunk. It has been months since they both broke up. You would think he had moved on by now. Aaron can see Blake slowly waking up. But before he could do anything, an ambulance comes. Aaron sighs in relief, knowing that Chris would finally get some help. A medic comes over to Aaron.

“Sir, I need you to come to the ambulance”, the medic says. Aaron shakes his head.

“No, help my fiancé first. He has a weak pulse and a head truama. I-I, that’s all I know”, Aaron says pointing over to Chris. The medic nods.

“And what about him?”, the medic asks, pointing to Blake.

“He-he hit us. I think he’s drunk but he hit us and .. you have to save Chris first, please”, Aaron replies to the medic.

“Ok, we’ll help your fiancé but you need help too”, the medic says. Aaron shakes his head.

“I’m fine. I don’t need any help”, Aaron replies. Soon a fire truck comes and a couple of medics lead the firefighters to the car crash.

“See, you’re fiancé is getting help. Now let me take care of you”, the medic says. Aaron hesitates but nods and slowly walks over to the ambulance. The medic gets her kit and starts treating the wound on Aaron's leg.

"Luckily for you, it's just a wound that'll probably need some healing", the medic says. Aaron nods as he watches the firefighters try to take Chris out of the car. Suddenly a police officer comes towards Aaron.

"Sir, I need a statement from you about what happened", the officer says. Aaron continues staring at the car crash.

"We were supposed to get married", Aaron says softly. The officer looks at him confused but writes it down in his notebook.

“We .. were..”, Aaron says softly. His chest suddenly feels tight and he can’t breathe.

“Officer, I don’t think he is able to make a statement. Come again later”, the medic says to the police officer. He nods and leaves them. The medic sits next to Aaron and holds his hand.

“Sir, what’s your name?” The medic asks.

“A-Aaron ..”, Aaron replies. His heart starts racing and throat feels swollen.

“Ok, Aaron. My name is Sharon and I think you’re having a panic attack”, Sharon says. Aaron looks at her. He’s had a few panic attacks before so he sort of knows what’s happening. Tears form is Aaron’s eyes.

“I-I can’t.. I can’t lose him”, Aaron says. Sharon nods.

“We’re doing the best we can ... oh look, they got your fiancé out. See, he’s going to be ok”, Sharon replies, pointing at the car crash. Aaron looks at the firefighters placing Chris on the gurney and putting him into another ambulance.

“I-I need to ...”, Aaron says. Sharon nods and walks him towards the ambulance. She says something to the medics and they let Aaron on. Aaron sits down and holds Chris’s hand. Sharon sits next to him.

“Alright, do you feel better now?” Sharon asks. Aaron nods. His heart stopped racing when he held Chris’s hand and his breathing slowed down too. Aaron holds Chris’s hand throughout the whole ride. Ten minutes later, they reach to the hospital. The medic opens the door and pushes the gurney outside. Aaron tries to follow them but a doctor stops him, saying that he needs to get his wound treated. Aaron tries to protest but ends up siting in a hospital bed and letting the doctor treat him.

“Is Chris going to be alright?” Aaron asks. The doctor looks up to him.

“I’m not sure but we have our finest surgeons working on him”, the doctor replies. Aaron nods. He knows all doctors say that but it seemed to comfort him a little. Soon the doctor treats the wound on Aaron’s leg and helps him walk to the waiting room. In the waiting room, he sees Penelope waiting inside.

“Sir! I was worried about you”, Penelope says. She helps Aaron sit down in a chair.

“Wh-where’s the rest of the team?” Aaron asks.

“They’re on a case but I notified them about the car crash. I tried to ask the doctors about Chris’s condition but the wouldn’t tell me anything. But I think he’s going to be fine, sir”, Penelope replies. Aaron shakes his head.

“Don’t call me sir .. please”, Aaron says. Penelope nods.

“Ok, Aaron”, Penelope replies, saying his first name. He was surprised that she called his by his first name instead of Hotch but he doesn’t say anything. After a couple of hours, a doctor comes into the waiting room. Aaron looks up, hoping they would call his name but they said someone else’s. Aaron then stands up and starts pacing around the room.

“Sir- Aaron, I don’t think you should be walking right now”, Penelope says, pointing to his leg.

“I’m fine-“, Aaron says before he was interrupted but the sharp pain in his leg. Penelope stands up and helps Aaron back on the chair. Two hours past by and another doctor comes into the waiting room.

“Aaron Hotchner?” The doctor asks. Aaron stands up.

“That’s me”, Aaron says. The doctor nods and gestures Aaron to follow him. He tells Penelope to wait here as he goes to the doctor. The both walk to a hospital room but stop outside of it.

“We just did surgery on him and gave him an M.R.I. But I’m afraid I have bad news. But do you want to see him first?” The doctor asks. Aaron nods and limps his way into the room. On the hospital bed is Chris with a tube down his throat. There is a monitor connected to his heart and lungs. Aaron pulls a chair and sits next to him.

“We had to put him into a medical-induced coma”, the doctor says. Aaron looks up at the doctor.

“We did a M.R.I scan and saw that there were shards in his heart. We opened him up and tried to get as many shards of it out but the damage was too big”, the doctor starts saying. Aaron feels a pit in his stomach. He feels like he knows where this is going but he doesn’t believe himself.

“Are .. are you saying that ..”, Aaron trails off. The doctor looks at him sadly and nods.

“He needs a new heart”, the doctor replies, confirming Aaron’s suspicions. And just like that, his whole life changes in a heartbeat.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch #cm lockscreen #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x male oc #hotch x oc #Hotch/Chris #tw car accident #tw drunk driving #tw panic attack #tw injuries #tw coma #Penelope Garcia

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Sky Full Of Stars - CH11

Sequel to Something Just Like This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Warnings: Angst, mention of depression, fluff

WC: 3205

A/N: This is the end, guys. I’m sad. I hope you enjoy the last chapter and thank you for letting me take you on this fabulous ride ❤️

SERIES MASTERLIST

...SIX MONTHS LATER…

Dean’s sitting on their terrace in the big rocking chair. It’s already dark and cold. Ella’s sitting on his one thigh, cuddling close to him and Neo’s on his other side. Dean has a big blanket draped over all of them, so they would stay warm.

It’s only a little past 8pm but it’s the weekend and Ella doesn’t have to go to school the next morning so he spoils her by allowing her to stay up past her usual bedtime of 7pm. They finished roasting marshmallows in their fireplace in the backyard and they have now brushed their teeth and changed into their pj’s.

He’s doing that a lot with the kids now. He wants them to see the privilege of living so far out, wants them to see the beauty of being able to see stars. A view one shouldn’t take for granted. They’re outdoorsy, both of them love to be outside and play and he’s glad they have the chance to do that with their big garden and a treehouse by the creek.

Neo clasps his hand over Dean’s eyes while Dean looks up to the night sky.

“See? See?” The little guy says and Dean has to chuckle.

“Buddy, I ain’t seeing a thing. Where are the stars?”

And then Ella joins in, her little hands on his face, squeezing at his cheeks and then she covers his nose.

“And now I can’t even breathe,” He gasps, plays along.

The kids are giggling and Dean likes that, likes to hear them happy.

He begins to tickle them both, and both of them are writhing in his lap.

“Daddy, stop!” Ella’s still giggling like crazy.

“Stop doing what?”

“Tickling us!”

“Only when you guys will let me look up at the stars and it'll be nice if I could breathe,” Dean’s still tickling.

“‘K!” Neo says, the little boy still laughs wholeheartedly, and Ella seems to agree with her brother for once because they settled next to him again, both trying to catch their breath.

Dean stares up, the sky is full of stars tonight, that’s why it’s so cold out. Their breathing fog up but they’re warm underneath the blanket.

“What do you guys see?” He asks his children, sometimes their imagination run wild and they would see all kinds of things in the star’s constellation.

“Mommy,” Neo says.

“Mommy?” Dean asks and he squints his eyes, trying to see what Neo sees.

“Ah, I see her too,” Ella joins in.

“Yeah, now I see mommy too. Her nose is a little big, though,” The children are giggling again and Dean kisses the top of both their heads, “Come on, what else,”

“Princess!” Ella calls out.

“Dinosaur!” Neo tries to be louder than his sister.

Dean smirks and he just leans back, bathing himself in the momentarily joy.

They get interrupted not even fifteen minutes later, when Linda comes to stand next to him. “I think it’s time for bed now,”

Linda had moved in to help him take care of the kids and that woman still gives him the creeps sometimes. Dean would never admit it to her, though.

He gladly took the offer at that time, although he’s probably never going to get used to it. He even had another room built right above the garage so that Linda can live comfortably while she helps him. Dean didn’t want to employ a real nanny, didn’t see the need when he can rely on people he already knows and trusts. He has a hard time trusting anyone new lately.

“You heard Linda, guys,” Dean kisses his children good night and lets Linda take Neo from his lap. The little boy started to walk yesterday. Another milestone reached.

“Night daddy,” Ella whispers and pulls him down by the collar to give him another kiss.

“Night, El-baby,”

“The physical therapist just left,” Linda balances Neo on her arms. The boy is already so big, it makes Linda look even smaller than she already is.

“Okay,” Dean answers, and watches Linda go in with his kids.

Y/N can hear the chatter in her children’s rooms. Her room is black, only the light from the stars shining through the window. She looks up at the night sky, knows that Dean has spent the evening with the kids outside while she had her physical therapy session. Futile therapy sessions. With a private therapist who probably wants way too much money for the little progress they make.

“Hey,” She hears Dean slip in and he closes the door behind him, “You okay?”

He walks over, leans in to place a kiss on the top of her head.

Dean knows not to talk too much. She’s always frustrated and sad after a therapy session. If she can avoid it, she’d like to not see anybody at all.

She doesn’t answer him and Dean knows why, he’s used to it by now and it makes her feel even more guilty.

After Dean shot Crowley, Crowley’s finger managed to pull the trigger, shooting her in the back. Unfortunately it went through her body in a weird angle, injuring her spine and puncturing her lung, too. She’s been in the hospital for almost a month, half of the time was spent in an induced coma.

Waking up, Dean was by her side and it was a long road to get where she is now. Which is not really far and she doesn’t really know if she has the strength to go on. It’s frustrating when she works so hard without feeling or seeing any progress at all.

Dean kneels down and starts to massage her legs. He’s doing a daily range of motions exercises with her to help her along, not missing a single day since he started.

She watches him work on her legs, doesn’t feel a fucking thing at all and she’s tired, exhausted as hell after the therapy. Y/N doesn’t want to come across as ungrateful but she can’t help but wonder why he does all this. Why does he keep on going when everything seems so lost?

And maybe she shouldn’t have let her mind wander to the dark place but she’s there now and she’s angry at herself, at Dean, at everything.

“Why are we doing this, Dean,” It’s not really a question, more a fact. “Why are you still here?”

Y/N told him when he brought her back to the house that she’d get it if he wants to leave, maybe it’s still the effect of the words Crowley planted in her head. In fact, she even wants him to. Wants him to leave her and the children here and go live a quiet life somewhere without the burden of having to take care of the kids and her.

Because that’s what she’s become. A burden that Dean has to carry, with being the only one who can take care of the kids — because she doesn’t have the strength to do it yet — on top of everything else. He didn’t sign up for this life and she gets it, because she didn’t either but she’s unfortunately still here and she has to somehow make it work. There’s no need for him to stay with her.

Dean looks up at her, the crease between his eyebrows deepens. He looks hurt.

“It’s true. You’re doing so much but you don’t have to. I told you that I can manage. We’re going to be fine. Go have a boys week, I don’t know,” She’s tearing up and she actually doesn’t want to. Her grip on the arm of her wheelchair is tight, her knuckles are turning white. Dean’s unfazed, keeps on massaging the muscles in her legs, pretends he didn’t hear her, “You can still get out, you know. I don’t want to tie you down. I don’t want you having to take care of me. This is not what I fucking want!”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! We’ve been through this, didn’t we,” Dean growls, he’s angry, she knows but she is too, so.

“And you know it’s fucking true! You’re always present. You’re taking care of all of us but who’s taking care of you, huh? We both know that it ain’t me, Dean! I can’t even take care of myself! You don’t deserve this! You deserve something better,”

“Shut up,” Dean snaps, but his hands aren’t stilling, he continues to knead at her muscles.

“You tend to our needs but what about you? What about your needs?”

“Fucking Christ, Y/N, shut up!” He gets loud and it makes her flinch.

She’s biting back at him though, “Tell me, what do you want, Dean? It sure as hell isn’t this fucking life! Tell me, what do you really want?!” She’s shouting and she can’t stop crying.

Dean places her leg back and rubs over his face with both his hands. Her heart thumps in her chest, she knows that she’s being unreasonable but she’s really not doing great at the moment.

“I need you, alright?” Dean’s loud and he’s shaking, “I fucking need you! How do you not get that?” He’s slowly breaking. She can see the tears pool in his eyes, see his shoulder trembling, “I FUCKING WANT YOU!” He screams before he lays his head in her lap, his arms hugging her middle when he begins to sob with his face buried in the cleft of her thighs.

She’s sobbing with him, strokes at his hair, her hands wandering down his trembling back as far as she can reach.

Dean’s breakdown was long overdue. She heard from Cas that he didn’t shed a tear once. Didn’t let himself show any emotions at all except for when he’s around his kids.

All Y/N said was true though. She doesn’t want that for him. Dean didn’t deserve that. But she might have gone overboard as well, triggered by her own frustrations and insecurities. And maybe she did use that to get him to break. She needed to get it out somehow. Maybe they all need to break in order to be able to put the pieces back together again and make it better.

He comes up, sniffs and brushes at his face with his hands before he takes his wet hands and cradles her face with it. He brushes at her tears with the pad of his thumbs and leans his forehead on hers, “I fucking want you to come back to us, alright? It physically pains me to know that your mind makes you think you’re worthless. I want you to see that life’s fucking worth living for, I need you to see it! Even this life is worth living for! I love you. We all do! I want you to be able to see our kids grow up, I want you to find joy, I fucking want to see you happy. I want you to come back to me!”

She cries some more and he kisses her. Their faces, their lips, it’s all wet.

“This depression is a bitch but I won’t give up, I refuse to give up,” Dean brushes his knuckles along her cheek as he lays his forehead back on hers, “I want you to come back to us, and I’m gonna be here waiting for the day you’re ready to come back. I’m not gonna fucking give you up. I fought too hard to be where we are now, I’m not letting a goddamn wheelchair stand in the way of what we can be. And you shouldn’t either.”

“Dean,”

“Shh, baby,” He hushes her, kisses her again, “Let's get you to bed.”

...ONE YEAR LATER…

Dean’s having one of his campfire nights with the kids, and they’re grilling marshmallows by the fire.

It’s a clear night, they’re lucky with the weather this year. Summer wasn’t too hot and it seems like this Winter’s going to be a mild one. It helps with the wheelchair when there’s not too much ice and snow around whenever they need to go somewhere.

Linda’s still living here but Y/N’s doing better so he thinks that Linda can go home if she wants to but he also wouldn’t mind if she’d stay. He’s warmed up to the woman, and he can see that she’s warming up to him as well. Maybe she changed her mind about him, she must have. She even starts to cook now too, with the false pretense that she doesn’t really like the food Dean’s cooking. Her plate’s always empty, so he guesses that it’s Linda’s way to tell him that she’s ready to be involved more.

Dean never told her to, though. He even said that she can go back whenever she likes but she has stayed and he thinks with Linda being here, Y/N has more reason to fight either. Maybe it’s also because Linda’s a cold hearted bitch when it comes to sorry excuses. She pep talks and drills Y/N until Y/N’s exhausted. Linda’s worse than a physical therapist, which they stopped calling in after the breakdown they both had. Linda’s more reliable, Linda knows Y/N’s limits. She also doesn’t get paid to crawl into someone ass and pretend that everything’s looking fine and Y/N made progress when the progress is zero and everything’s, in fact, not fucking fine.

He’s sitting around the campfire, Neo’s on his lap, and Dean has one arm secured around the toddler. He’s afraid that Neo will fall into the fire if he isn’t holding him.

When Dean looks away from the fire, he sees Linda wheeling Y/N into the backyard. They must have been going around the house because Linda couldn’t carry Y/N and the wheelchair down to the yard from their terrace.

Inside of their house it’s a whole different story. They have two wheelchairs on both levels, so it’s easy if they can just carry her up and down and sit her right back into a ready wheelchair. Maybe Dean needs another one especially made for the terrain of their garden.

Y/N’s smiling and so does Linda. Dean wonders what they’re up to.

Seeing her smile makes his heart leap and he smiles back.

Her smile’s a rare sight, it’s absolutely rare seeing the genuine smile on her face. It makes him realize how much he misses it. How much he’s missing her. She’s slowly coming back and they’re nowhere near where they want to be, or rather where he wants them to be, but they’re slowly but surely taking baby steps into the right direction.

She keeps on fighting and so does he.

Y/N’s around more either. Sometimes she would come down to sit around the couch with the kids. She’d read them stories, and Dean would listen too. And in those moments, it feels like they have gotten some normality back. In those moments, he can feel that she’s slowly accepting that her legs might never work again, accepting that she might be bound to a wheelchair to the end of her days.

Dean’s also happy that she doesn’t doubt herself anymore, and by proxy, doesn’t doubt him. She can finally accept and wrap her head around the fact that he’s here to stay. Wrapping her mind around the fact that he’s not backing out just because something becomes uncomfortable. Just because something doesn’t fit the norm. He’s too old and too tired to give up on all that they’ve built up. He couldn’t leave this life, mainly also because all other lives don't seem worth living.

He’s got his children, he has her. There’s really nothing else for him to wish for.

“Mommy!” Ella abandons her stick with a half burned marshmallow and skips towards Y/N and Linda. Neo’s getting restless in Dean’s grip. He watches as Ella runs to her mom and sits on Y/N’s lap, letting Linda push both of them forward.

Linda comes to a halt about three yards short of him and Ella gets out. Dean watches with raised eyebrows as Y/N grabs one leg after another, sets it on the cold solid ground.

And then, Dean can’t believe his own eyes when Y/N pushes herself up from the chair.

Linda comes around, gives Y/N a hand to help steady her while Ella holds on to her mommy’s other hand.

Dean can’t stop the tears even if he would try. He brushes at his eyes to be able to see better.

“Daddy why are you crying?” Neo tilts his head around because of course he couldn’t hide that from the kids. Ella’s by Dean’s side now too, as she weaves her arms around Dean’s neck to kiss at his cheek.

“Daddy, mommy can walk!” Ella shouts out, her tiny voice’s full of excitement.

“I can see that, yeah,” Dean chokes out but he’s smiling, and he still watches her, watches how her face frowns in concentration.

“Why don’t cry,” Neo says again and Dean doesn’t really want to? He just really has to.

“Why’s daddy crying?” Ella asks Neo, as if her brother knows the answer.

“Daddy’s just really happy,” Dean whispers, has to compose himself as not to break down in front of his kids, and then he stands up and lets Neo walk around, the little boy speeds to his mommy and Dean follows.

When he’s close enough, he takes over from Linda and Linda takes the kids, walks with them back to the campfire as Dean steadies Y/N around her waist with one arm. His other arm trails along her cheeks. It has been more than a year since they saw each other eye to eye like this, with her being able to hold herself up on her own two feet.

She’s sweating and her cheeks are flushed. It probably needed more strengths than Dean could ever imagine.

He kisses her, holds her a little tighter, “You can walk,”

“I can,” She breathes, “I mean, I won’t run a marathon tomorrow but I’m getting there.”

Dean has to chuckle, “You’re doing much better, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Y/N answers, “I can’t believe how patient you were.”

“It was worth it,” Dean whispers, kissing her again, “Come on, let’s get you back into the chair before you collapse.” She lets him scoop her up and place her back into the chair. Dean takes his time to place her legs right, he massages the muscle a little, too. “You feel that again?”

“I do, it’s strange.”

Dean smirks, “Can’t believe you were hiding that from me.”

“Wanted to surprise you.” She smiles and it’s truly the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a long time. “Thanks for waiting for me to come around.”

“I would have waited a lifetime if that’s what you would have needed,” He whispers and gets up, places a last lingering kiss on her forehead before he gets behind the chair and wheels her to the campfire.

And yes, Dean’s happy.

Happy that after all, they can start to be a family again. Because this is it for him. This is what he always fucking wanted. This and nothing else.

..The End

#sky full of stars #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you

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oscars-wifeyyy · 5 years

Text

Chapter 10 (The Innocent)

It's officially the day of Olivia's quince and Monse, Ruby, and Elizabeth were handing out programs to people in the church.

"Bless you," Ruby said to a person entering, "can you believe we were here only a few hours ago?"

"When there was hope," Monse said.

"Oh, my God!" Ruby said, but saw the pastor next to him, "I mean goodness. Seriously?"

"What?" Elizabeth asked as she handed a couple a program.

"There is a typo in the program. 'Their' is spelled with an e-r-e instead of e-i-r. Only e-i-r shows possession,"

"Really?" Monse glared at Ruby, "you think this is a time to grammar troll?"

"Jamal was supposed to double check before they were printed," Ruby stressed.

"Add it to the list. He's a loser," Monse rolled her eyes.

"Hey! I know you're mad, but try to temper the 'tude today," Ruby advised Monse, "be cool when Jamal gets here,"

"He's not coming. We're better for it," Monse spat.

"What about Olivia?" Ruby asked, "Cesar probably won't show either,"

"We don't know that," Monse insisted.

"He just killed someone," Ruby hissed at their friend.

"We don't know that for sure," Monse still insisted.

"Monse..." Elizabeth trailed off, "we know,"

Olivia and Jasmine emerged from the back with Jasmine looking very sickly and pale while Olivia looked like she just wanted to get away from Jasmine. However, Jasmine started coughing and got closer to Ruby and started almost leaning on him.

"Lover, can I borrow your pocket square?" Jasmine held out her hand.

"Use your hand!" Ruby freaked out, moving to stand next to Monse.

"I think you need to go back inside, Jas," Elizabeth said.

"But away from me," Olivia quickly said.

"Then where should I go?" Jasmine asked.

"Daycare center," Ruby said, but everyone just looked at him, "what? Babies are always sick,"

Olivia sighed, "have you seen Cesar?"

"Not yet. But you know Cesar, dude takes forever to primp. I bet he's on his way," Monse smiled at the newly 15 year old girl.

"Olivia, let's go back inside and get ready," Elizabeth walked away with Olivia in attempt to distract her, "you look beautiful,"

"Thank you," Olivia smiled, "you too,"

"Gracias. Now I gotta go ask someone something. Be back soon," Elizabeth walked back out to see Cesar with his head shaved, "hey, baldy. Nice of you to finally show up,"

After a long ceremony, it was finally time for people to talk to the princess and get pictures in. Ruby, Monse, Cesar, and Elizabeth went up to Olivia as Cesar kissed her cheek.

"Hey, you looked incredible out there," Cesar smiled at his girlfriend.

"That's good because my knees are wrecked. Kneeling for an hour is not a blessing," Olivia joked.

"But you are blessed," Elizabeth walked back to Ruby and Monse to give the couple their space. Olivia walked away after a while to talk to a few more guests while Cesar went back to their friends.

"It was a nice ceremony," Ruby said, trying to fill in the awkward silence.

"Yeah," Cesar nodded.

"You didn't kill him," Monse stared at her crush.

"Monse!" Elizabeth looked at her friend incredulously.

"He's not dead, but...he's gone," Cesar nodded.

"What does that mean?" Monse asked.

"He ran, Mon," Elizabeth filled in the blank.

"C'mon, Ruby. Help your dad pack the car. Come on!" Geny walked by with the twins.

Ruby's dad just looked at Ruby, "I do need help," Geny left the church, "with your mother. Not the car,"

"Give me a minute," Ruby said as his dad left.

"If Latrelle's dead, doesn't that make you vulnerable?" Monse asked.

"It's handled and we never talk about it again," Cesar said, "now this is Olivia's day, and if I were you, I'd be more worried about those dance steps,"

"Ruby!" Geny poked her head inside, "por favor!"

"I'll see you guys back at the house," Ruby rushed outside.

Everyone was now at Ruby's house getting the party started in the backyard as Ruby got the damas and chambelanes ready. Abuelita came inside with a few of her friends with food and went to Ruby.

"Mijo, where are we gonna set up the buffet?"

"On the tables in the back," Ruby smiled.

"But they're not there," Abuelita informed.

"What? Well who moved them?" Ruby became irritated.

"A guy told me he needed them," Cesar stood up.

"It was the fireworks guy," Monse interjected.

Olivia gasped, "we're having fireworks?"

"Thank you. Thank you everyone for spoiling the surprise," Ruby sarcastically smiled, "yes. Fireworks at 9:30,"

"Someone get his panties out of a bunch," Abuelita looked at the group.

"Nothing is spoiled," Olivia walked to Ruby.

"Oh, no, we're just down two dames and a chambelan. Thank you, Eli," Ruby rolled his eyes, "and one of your surprises is ruined,"

"One of my surprises?"

Elizabeth couldn't take the stress Ruby was creating for himself so she went out to the porch in her yellow dress, sitting on the steps. She had her legs together and looked up at the night sky, hearing a little of her friends' conversation, "D to C numbers? Is that dick to coochie..." Monse started.

"Get your head out of the gutter!" Ruby exclaimed, "dames to chambelanes,"

"Princesa," a familiar voice called.

Elizabeth stood up and saw Oscar at the gate, "you came,"

"Of course, Eli," Oscar smiled.

"And you dressed up?" Elizabeth smiled at the dickies pants and button up he had on, "you look as handsome as ever,"

The two went to the backyard as the dance started and watched, clapping at the end. Elizabeth left Oscar's side to congratulate the group at not failing the dance to see Olivia's hair falling so she nudged Monse to help her. The two girls walked away and during the time they were away, Ruby was looking at a phone. Suddenly, he walked to the girls and pulled Olivia away to go inside so Elizabeth left Monse and Cesar alone to go back to Oscar, standing in front of him.

"Everything is falling into place," Elizabeth smiled at the sight before her.

"I'm glad," Oscar kissed Elizabeth's cheek, "as long as you're happy,"

Soon the group pulled Elizabeth to dance with them, she tried to pull Oscar, but he denied and stood back to watch her. Her beauty still struck him as he stared, dazed at the sight of her laughing and smiling with her friends. Minutes went by when Elizabeth had seen a hooded figure walk through the crowd and she got a bad feeling so she played it off by moving to the side closer to the figure. She had seen the glare of the gun the same time that Ruby had seen it so Ruby yelled Cesar's name to warn him, but Elizabeth pushed Olivia and Ruby down on the ground when the bullet pierced into her back.

Screams were heard as the bullet went through Elizabeth and grazed Ruby on the arm. Oscar's worst nightmares had come to life when he saw Elizabeth fall down with the blood spreading through her yellow dress.

"Princesa! Princesa!" Oscar yelled as he pushed people and sank to his knees to hold onto his girlfriend, "call 911! Ay, Dios mio. Baby, come on keep your eyes open. Let me see your beautiful eyes,"

"Eli!" Ruby yelled as blood ran down his arm and his mother was yelling.

Elizabeth couldn't do anything except try to catch her breath and stare at Oscar, but she had so much to say to him, "I-I love y-y-you,"

"Por qué? Why did you have to put yourself in front?! te quiero también," Oscar had tears going down his face as her eyes started closing, "No. Mi amor, open your eyes!"

Everyone started crying at the sight of the usually emotionless leader leaning over the body of his girlfriend as paramedics went to take her to the hospital. Once they took her, Oscar stood up with his clothes stained in his girlfriend's blood and started making his way towards Cesar.

"Oscar, I'm sor-," Cesar got cut off by the fist of his older brother.

"Latrelle was supposed to be dead!" Oscar yelled, "you were supposed to shoot! Now look! Elizabeth is going to the hospital for a gunshot that was supposed to be for Latrelle,"

"I'm sorry!" Cesar yelled.

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it, Cesar," Oscar's voice changed to Spooky, "don't come home,"

"What?" Cesar asked, "Oscar, please don't do this,"

His words fell on deaf ears as Oscar ran to his car and sped to the hospital, running inside after throwing his car in park. He ran inside, but when he got to the waiting room he saw Leticia sobbing so he slowly went up to her. Leticia felt a presence so she looked up to see Oscar with tear stained cheeks, she did the only thing that came to her mind. She wrapped her arms around him as the two cried for the tragedy that hit their loved on.

As time ticked, Ruby got patched up as Monse, Cesar, Ruby, Olivia, and Jamal waited with Oscar and Leticia to update. Hours went by as anxiety levels grew and the doors opened with a doctor coming though.

"Elizabeth Hernandes?" the doctor called as everyone stood, "she is stable, but put in an induced coma so her body can heal,"

"How long?" Oscar crossed his arms.

"Week until she's up," the doctor cleared his throat, "she can have visitors, but two at a time,"

"Mrs. Hernandes, is it possible if I can go in with you?" Oscar asked.

"Of course, mijo. Call me ma," Leticia gave a sad smile to the man, "I have a feeling you guys are gonna last,"

Oscar smiled softly at the future that could happen with the girl that lay on a hospital bed. The way her nose crinkles when he kisses it and scrunches up when she sees something nasty to the way she instinctively curls up to him when she falls asleep. All of her good and bad things still keeps him absolutely entranced whenever she walks into a room. His thoughts came to a pause when he caught sight of her usually tan skin being pale, her torso bandaged up, and all the IVs that are hooked up to her. All he could really think is how he didn't tell her he loved her before and now they're in a hospital.

Moments passed and Oscar couldn't stand the sight of his princesa looking so helpless as he ran out of the room and into the waiting room, tears encased in his eyes. His hands went behind his head, trying to get as much air in until Sad Eyes came in with Rico and Lorca. When he set his eyes on them, tears started coming out on all four cholos.

"What's going on?" Rico sniffled.

"She's stable, but had to be in an induced coma," Oscar sat down, "fuck, what if she doesn't make it? Ella es mi número uno, manos,"

"Yo sé, Spooky. She's gonna pull through, homie," Lorca cleared his throat.

Leticia went up to the cholos, "Oscar, can you introduce me? Assuming they know my daughter,"

"Sí," Oscar wiped his tears, "this is Julian Guzman, Ricardo Cardenas, and Vincent Gomez,"

"Hola, would you guys like to have dinner with me tonight? I want to gather all of her friends together," Leticia smiled at the four men.

"Sí, señora Hernandes," all 4 men chorused, "gracías,"

"Meet in two hours and, Oscar, go to tu casa y take a shower and clean up, mijo," Leticia instructed.

"Sí, ma, pero you don't have to make dinner," Oscar said, "get carry out at any restaurant," Oscar handed her two hundred, "get food and then rest,"

"Gracías, Oscar," Leticia put a hand on his cheek, "I'm glad Eli found you. You and your friends can stay the night too, I don't want you guys out this late,"

A week passed and Elizabeth can wake up any day now so after every run, every shift, and every school day, everyone was there, waiting. It was Sunday and the start of December, everyone was there talking until Oscar, who sat by her side, saw her hand twitch. He stared a little longer at her hand to make sure so when he saw it twitch again so he stood up fast, making the chair fall.

"Bebe!" Oscar grabbed Elizabeth's hand, "c'mon, open your eyes,"

Everyone stopped talking and looked at the girl with anticipation.

"'S-sup, fool?" Elizabeth croaked, "agua,"

Ruby grabbed the cup with his good hand and went to her side to put the straw in her mouth, letting her drink and rehydrate.

"How are you, Ruby? Olivia?" Elizabeth looked at them worried.

"Eli, we are fine! You need to worry about you," Olivia chuckled.

Oscar cleared his throat, "get out. I need to talk to her," Elizabeth hit Oscar as he rolled his eyes, ú"por favor," everyone filed out as Oscar picked up the chair and sat down next to the girl that made him feel normal, "hey, hermosa. I didn't get to tell you this while you were conscious, but I l-love you,"

"Big bad leader loves lil ol' me?" Elizabeth teased, "I love you too, bebe,"

The two smiled big as the door opened again, revealing a doctor and Eliabeth's mother and father.

"Papa?" Elizabeth teared up.

"Mi amor, how are you feeling?" Armando Hernandes asked.

"Good," Elizabeth cleared her throat, "how are you? Are you feeling better?"

"Muy buen not that you're ok. I hear you got a novio," Armando saw Oscar, "es tú novio, Eli?"

"Sí, papa," Elizabeth grinned.

"Hola, señor," Oscar shook Armando's hand, "me llamo Oscar,"

"Hola, Oscar. Me llamo Armando. I hear you love my daughter, yes? You would do anything for her?"

"Sí. Even if it means dying for her," Oscar grasped Elizabeth's hand.

"Good. there is something about you that I trust pero if you make her shed one tear, I am gonna shoot you,"

"Papa," Elizabeth groaned.

"Qué?" Armando asked, "it's true,"

"Alright," the doctor stepped in, "Elizabeth, looks like you can go, but you have to have light exercises and check up is next month,"

"Ok. See you next month," Elizabeth grinned.

#Oscar Diaz #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagines #spooky diaz #spooky diaz x reader #spooky diaz imagines #spooky diaz imagine #omb #on my block #netflix #netflix on my block #julio macias #julio macias fanfic #julio macias fanfiction #the innocent oscar diaz fanfiction

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doc-pickles · 4 years

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i won’t hesitate (for you) chapter six

Jo is happy, at least she feels like she is. When someone from her past shows up, will her and her daughter's world ever go back to normal? Or will things change for good?

The loft was dark, only one solitary light shining from the kitchen as Link let himself into the apartment. He set his keys and the groceries he had bought on the dining table, his feet moving quietly through the large room in search of Jo. When his eyes finally found her, his heart sank with a deep sigh.

Jo was curled up in the king size bed, one hand curled around a ratty grey sweatshirt and the other holding her burgeoning stomach. She had been crying, if the dimmed lights and lack of noise weren't enough of an indicator, the tear tracks and damp pillow below her were.

“Josie,” Link plopped himself on the edge of the bed next to Jo, one hand coming up to run through her brunette locks. “What’s wrong? Besides the obvious.” “They kicked,” the words were barely loud enough for Link to hear, but he knew exactly what was running through Jo’s mind. “They kicked me today and you know who reached over to feel it? Jackson, because he was eating lunch with me. Jackson felt my baby’s first kick.” As the words spilled out of her mouth, tears began pouring from Jo’s eyes again. Link kicked his shoes off quickly, climbing behind Jo on the bed and bringing her into his embrace. Her hands gripped tightly at his shirt, sobs escaping as she buried her face in his chest.

“Why wasn't I enough? What did I do,” Jo cried out, her voice breaking as she asked Link a question he didn’t have an answer to. “Why didn't he love me enough to stay? I need him, I can’t do this without him, Link. I need Alex back. I can’t raise this baby without him.”

“So I heard you put Karev on a celibacy vow following your steamy elevator rendezvous.”

Jo looked up from her phone, choking momentarily on her coffee. She gawked at Amelia Shepherd, who was now sitting beside her in the cafeteria. A bright blush spread across Jo’s cheeks as she brought one hand up to try and cover it. Leave it to her big mouthed best friend to tell his wife her dirty secrets.

“Jeez, Link really doesn’t keep his mouth shut,” Jo groaned, a smile sneaking up on her face. “Yes, I told Alex we can’t have sex again until we… settle into things? I just don’t want that to complicate things. And they’re already pretty complicated as is.”

“Better you than me, I couldn’t imagine doing that,” Amelia settled one hand onto her growing stomach, a laugh escaping her as she looked back to Jo. “I’m working with twice the hormones though, so I think it’s a bit different.”

Amelia and Jo had grown close the past three years, Jo spending a large amount of her pregnancy hanging around Link, Amelia, and Scout as she mourned the end of her marriage and tried to wrap her mind around bringing a child into the world. The older woman had been a great source of comfort for Jo, always knowing exactly what would get through her hormone ridden mind when Link fumbled his words.

“You’re lucky I like you, I wouldn’t tolerate this line of questioning from anyone else you know,” Jo snagged one of Amelia’s garlic fries, turning back to her phone. “Have you and Link come to an agreement on baby names yet?” “No and I’m ready to kill him,” Amelia groaned, smacking Jo’s hand away from her fries. “You don’t even like garlic fries, keep your sticky fingers away from mine.” “Hey you can always do what I did and drive your husband away to his ex wife so you can name your baby by yourself,” Jo grinned at the shocked expression on Amelia’s face. “Oh you should see your face! Priceless!”

Both women began to laugh then, a few heads around the room turning to stare at them in confusion. Amelia tried in vain to cover her laughter, which in turn only made Jo laugh harder.

“You’re horrible,” Amelia choked out, taking a sip of her water as she lovingly shoved Jo’s shoulder. “In all seriousness, I think Link and I are both coming around on Parker.”

“Awww that’s adorable! See, I knew you guys would agree on something eventually,” Jo’s pager beeped then, prompting her to stand with a groan. “I’ve got a 911, we’ll talk later. Keep my godson safe in there!”

Jo hurried down to the ER, eyes scanning the room looking for Owen. When she finally spotted him she jogged over, entering the room that he and three nurses occupied.

“Hunt! You paged?” Jo’s eyes flitted down to the little boy on the table in front of Owen. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old, his body bruised and bleeding as he lay unconscious before Jo. His curly black hair was matted with blood, making him look years younger and even more vulnerable than he already was.

“Ethan Walker, 9 years old. He was walking home from West Seattle Middle when he was jumped by three guys. He’s beat up pretty badly,” Owen relayed the info to Jo as he continued to check out the boy. “I paged neuro and peds too, you’re the first one here. Looking like a possible spleen puncture.” Jo lifted the boy’s shirt, heart dropping as she saw the state to his chest. She wouldn’t be able to get a good idea of how extensive the damage was until they got him open, which seemed the only option at this point. Her heart sank, imagining how worried she would be if it was Harper on the table. Now that she was a mother herself, pediatric cases gripped Jo’s heart more than usual. “We need to take him into surgery, I just want to wait for Peds to confirm what I’m seeing here before we go up,” Jo relayed to Owen, one hand coming down to push some stray curls out of the little boy's face. “Poor baby, he didn’t deserve this.”

“Hey what’ve we got,” Alex walked into the room, a deep sigh leaving him as he looked at the state of their patient. “Jesus… Jo, what’re you thinking?” “That we need to move out because he was jumped in our neighborhood,” Jo looked up at Alex, a grim expression on her face. “We also need to get him up to the OR as soon as possible. There’s definitely a spleen puncture and I’m thinking that his lungs were nicked too, his O2 levels aren’t looking great. I won’t know more until we open him up.”

Alex nodded, one hand coming to grip the side of the gurney while the other found the low of Jo’s back. He could feel the tension radiating off of her, she was always upset when kids came in now. Unfortunately that meant that cases they worked together were not happy occasions, something Alex tried to combat by comforting Jo as much as possible.

“Okay let’s move team,” Owen called out, him and Alex pushing the gurney out into the hallway with Jo trailing behind them. “Jo, I think his parents are here, can you fill them in and meet us in OR 2?”

Alex looked up to the trauma bay where he saw two distraught looking women, both staring helplessly at their patient. Jo nodded quietly, rushing past Owen and Alex to speak with the women. Alex’s heart ached for her, knowing that talking to parents was not something Jo loved. But he pressed on, following Owen towards the elevator and only turning around once when he heard one of the women sobbing loudly.

Today was going to be a long day.

“Hey can you put toaster strudels down on the grocery list?”

Alex looked up from his place on the floor, staring at Jo with a confused expression. She was seated on the couch, head buried in a magazine about experimental surgeries. He was shocked that she was acting so normal given the events of the day before.

Yesterday had been brutal for him and Jo, the little boy who had been jumped coding twice in surgery and now laying in a medically induced coma in the PICU. Jo had sobbed into Alex’s arms last night, heart broken that they had to inform his parents that their son might not wake up.

“You don’t like toaster strudels,” Alex pointed out as he took the wooden block that Harper handed him. “You said cooked fruit freaks you out.”

“They’re for Harper, obviously,” Jo scoffed at Alex, but he gave her a knowing stare which prompted her to roll her eyes. “Fine, they’re for me. Shut up.”

Alex had learned a lot since returning to Seattle. He had discovered that Harper loved asparagus but hated applesauce, that she stayed with Link and Amelia every other Thursday, and that she couldn’t sleep without her green stuffed monkey Chester. He had also learned that Jo’s tastes had changed drastically, something she blamed on her outrageous pregnancy cravings permanently changing her taste buds. She now enjoyed jalapeños, sauerkraut, and toaster strudels, things she had never taken an interest in before.

“Wait, didn’t you say you were going on a diet,” Alex watched as Harper began to build her block tower on his stomach, her small hands constantly coming to press down his rising and falling chest. “Harps, I can’t stop breathing, it would upset your mother.”

“I can start that next week, we need to buy strawberry toaster strudels when we go shopping tomorrow,” Jo grabbed the highlighter tucked behind her ear and circled something on the page in front of her. “I’m thinking chicken alfredo for dinner. Thoughts?”

Both Alex and Harper turned to look at Jo, noses scrunched up in the same fashion. Jo had to hold back a laugh because the two looked absolutely identical. One thing she had loved about having Alex back was that she was able to see the similarities between him and their daughter up close. Before, if Harper would do anything even close to Alex’s mannerisms it would send Jo’s mind into a dark spot. But things were different now, a good different, but nothing like the life Jo had grown used to.

“Babe, I love you, but your taste buds should not be controlling our dinner choices,” Alex turned to Harper, a grin on his face as he began to tickle her. “Was she starving you the whole time? Force feeding you sauerkraut and chicken alfredo?” Babe, I love you.

He hadn’t said it since they had reunited, but the way Alex had slipped the confession so casually into their conversation made Jo’s heart skip a beat. He loved her. Of course she loved him too, as crazy as it made her feel she didn’t think that she had ever stopped loving him. But hearing him say it out loud confirmed everything she had hoped for the past few weeks.

Jo couldn’t help herself as she set her magazine down and crawled across the carpet to lean over Alex, a grin lighting her face up like the Fourth of July. Harper had grown tired of her father and was now distracted with a coloring book she had found in her toy box,

“You look like a psycho murderer,” Alex chuckled, one hand coming up to caress Jo’s cheek. “Why’re you grinning at me like that? Were you waiting until you lulled me into a false sense of security to murder me?” “I love you too,” Jo whispered, her lips coming down to meet Alex’s. When she pulled back, Alex was staring up at her with a look of adoration. “You said you love me, I love you too.”

“Let’s buy a house,” Alex whispered, his eyes scanning Jo’s face. “Let’s move out of this shitty neighborhood and buy a house with a backyard and a big kitchen.”

“And a few extra bedrooms,” Jo suggested, eyes meeting Alex’s with a sly grin. “You know, just in case?”

“Just in case? You wanna tell me something, Jo,” Alex laughed as he pulled Jo towards him, quickly flipping their positions so she lay sprawled out on the living room rug. “You hiding another baby from me somewhere around here?” A squeal of laughter left Jo, her eyes squeezing shut as Alex let his fingers come up to her sides to tickle her. She was happy, truly happy for the first time in… well a very long time. Her hands came up to grab Alex’s face, eyes meeting his with a sincere look in them.

“You’re staying, right? Not going anywhere again?” “Of course I am, I love you and I’ve already missed out on too much,” Alex grinned, his crooked smile lighting up his face. “I want a great big future with you and Harper and however many more babies you wanna give me.” “Easy for you to say, you didn’t have to go through 31 hours of labor,” Jo rolled her eyes, bringing Alex in for another kiss. “Next time I get to yell at you instead of Meredith. I’m still not sure she’s forgiven me for the names I called her.”

#greys anatomy #alex karev #jo karev #jo wilson #jo x alex #jolex #jolex fic #hesitate #jolex fanfic #nina writes #greys anatomy fanfic

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adarlingwrites · 4 years

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Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

February 3, 2278.

Some of the Brotherhood came over to gawk again. A simple growl made them back off, but it doesn’t stop them from throwing an insult about my skin. Not that it fazes me. I must say, I don’t care. Percy though? If she were awake right now, she would’ve mauled those tin cans.

The doctors put Percy in an induced coma. One of the scribes said that being awake for her now would be painful for her.

It’s been six days since the purifier, and I remember an explosion from inside the chamber knocking me back, the glass flying everywhere. When I came to, I saw her lying there, her armor damaged and glasses shattered from the impact, some of the glass piercing her skin. I hauled her out of there. Didn’t let anyone near her, not even Dr. Li. I must’ve looked like a yao guai refusing to let go of their kill to these Brotherhood bigots.

There are holes in my memory, but I remember seeing blood on the floor when they tried to wrench her away from my grasp. If the blood belonged to me, or to one of the tin cans, I can’t recall. My ears were ringing, but I know someone was shouting, telling the power-armored assholes to give me a wide berth.

It wasn’t until Li told me that my partner would probably die if I didn’t let them administer medical attention that I reluctantly laid her body down on a gurney. I stayed by Percy’s side as they wheeled her to the emergency room. The scribes told me to get lost, but a cock of my shotgun made them cease their pestering.

As they hooked her onto life support, I sat down at the ground near the foot of the bed. I barely moved an inch since. The doctors made blood transfusions, pumped her with RadAway, injected a cocktail of chems to keep her sedated, anything to keep her alive.

The worst part was the seizures. I don’t think I can burn those memories away, watching my partner’s body convulse and thrash against the bed.

From time to time, Dr. Li and a few of the scribes who weren’t bigots would send me food and water as they checked on Percy’s condition. With her father dead, there was no next of kin, but they knew how I stuck by her side, they shared the prognosis with me. They mentioned some terms like leukopenia, hypotension, and other terms I couldn’t understand.

All I know is she’s unwell and I can’t leave her.

Tonight, Li approached me and brought some news. Percy is stable, for now. To my surprise, she sat on the floor beside me, and pressed her hands against her face before letting out a nervous sob.

“I barely got to know her and she could be gone anytime. And to think I tried to push her away. God. Not like this...”

I let her continue mumbling.

“I should have known better than to let her in. I shouldn’t have let myself care for her. But that girl is persistent, isn’t she?”

That, I can agree with. Percy wormed her way into my heart, too.

“You,” she spoke. I look in her direction, but she’s looking straight ahead, her thousand-yard stare familiar. “You got her out of that chamber in the nick of time. A few more seconds inside and she… she could’ve ended up like James.”

I couldn’t stop myself from grimacing.

December 26, 2277.

I was watching Percy’s back as she took care of the intake pipes when the Enclave’s vertibirds came flying in.

“Charon. I have a bad feeling about this,” I remember her saying.

The image of the black machines landing near the memorial stirred a feeling of dread. A pressure on my neck choked me despite the lack of anything constricting it. Before I knew it, the dull pressure in the back of my eyes made me pull what’s little left of my hair. My chest hurt like a bitch and it felt like my rib cage was going to explode.

Percy was quick to notice my distress.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” she cooed in a soothing manner, placing my ruined hands against her soft cheeks to stop me from hurting myself. “Breathe, Charon. Focus on me,” she continues, squeezing my hands. She leads me through the grate to remove me from the situation and turns on her Pip-Boy light.

“Remember what we did in Megaton? Can we do that?” she asks me; it wasn’t a command. “Yes,” I manage to rasp out. My head was spinning, but I focused on her voice to stop myself from blacking out. I won’t let myself black out. She’ll need me .

“Five things you can see?” she starts, and I comply, trying to speak though it feels like I’m choking on mole rat shit. “I see the metal gate. My hands. My feet. The Pip-Boy light. You.”

“Keep going,” she encouraged me, digging inside her pack. “Four things you can touch.”

“I feel the fabric of my shirt,” I continue, sweating hands palming at myself. “I can feel my shotgun,” I rasp, grasping at the barrel. “Warm, right? Like how you like it?” Percy breathes, and I see that she found a bubble gum wrapper and placed it in my palm, before gently closing her hands around my fist. “Yes. I can feel the bubblegum wrapper,” I continue. “I can feel your skin,” I say at last.

“Three things you can smell.”

Her hands stayed on mine. I unclenched my fists, held them, delicate against mine, and pressed them against my ruined cheeks. Percy draws a little closer, her eyes searching mine.

“I think I can manage now,” I exhale, lucid once more.

“Are you sure?”

“I am certain.”

“What triggered it?” she asks me, and I let go of her hands to fetch my shotgun.

“Vertibirds. Enclave. Your father might be in danger.”

Panic replaces the questioning look in her eyes. “We have to help dad.”

We were running back when one of the Enclave soldiers fired plasma rounds at us. I manage to shield my mistress from the onslaught and the hot plasma burns through my armor, exposing my arm. Taking the opportunity, Percy crouches, disappears, and takes out one of the soldiers with her Gauss rifle. I covered her while the panicking soldiers searched for her. We managed to barrel our way through a platoon, and I can hear her sigh of relief when we reached the door to the rotunda.

It was too late when we arrived.

A man who introduced himself as Colonel Autumn was inside the purifier, along with more soldiers in power armor. James was inside, with another scientist in their team. My mistress runs up to Dr. Li, who watches with wary eyes from the other side of the glass.

A shot rang throughout the rotunda. Autumn killed the other scientist.

With no hesitation, Percy and I ran to the entrance of the purifier. She bangs against the glass, calling to her father.

“Dad! Let me in,” she pleads, begs, but her father doesn’t acknowledge her. Gun still pointed at his head, James walked over to the control panel, pressed a few buttons, and then all hell broke loose.

She tried her damn best to pry the blast door open when James locked himself in with the Enclave colonel and radiation started to seep out of the damn chamber. He let his daughter watch as he died a slow and painful death from the radiation, just so she could get away.

She pounded her small fists and threw her shoulder against the glass, but it didn’t budge.

The wild, desperate expression etched on her face will haunt me.

Is that how I looked like when I pounded against the glass?

Was I that afraid to lose her?

February 4, 2278

I was shaken back to reality when the doctor spoke up once more.

“Look, I don’t know about the nature of your relationship with Persephone. I will not pry, and it is not my place to judge, especially after you saved her life. I- I thank you.”

I grunted at her in acknowledgment, and watched as she stood up to glance at Percy one last time.

“Excuse me, I need a small break,” she almost rasps, fatigue evident in her voice, and she shuffles out the door.

Time passed for I don’t know how long, and with a groan, I stood from my usual place at the foot of Percy’s bed and checked the time on her Pip-Boy. She taught me how to operate it in case she gets incapacitated. 00:03. Already past midnight. My legs fell asleep sitting all day, so I walked around in the room. As I pass by the door, I can hear voices on the other side.

“Patient Persephone Zhou’s test results are abnormal,” I hear a scribe say. “Cellular regeneration is remarkable despite lethal radiation exposure. No …”

I press my ear hole against the door upon hearing my partner’s name. I didn’t dare make a single sound.

“She’s being healed by it.”

“Healed? Do you think she’s undergoing… eugh, ghoulification?” one of them says with disgust.

My breath quickens. I wouldn’t wish this… this condition on anyone I cared for. Especially Percy. Not Percy. Rage replaces my anxiousness at the tone of one of the bigots. It has become clear to me that despite all the things my partner did for the Brotherhood, the moment she turns into a walking corpse like me, they’ll be more than happy to dispose of her. I wanted to send the door flying open and strangle the bastards.

But I only kept listening.

“It’s too early to tell. Ghoulification can take years, but at the dose she was exposed to, if it happens, it should be instantaneous. There is no tissue necrosis, and her initial burns are almost healed. We can’t rule it out yet, but there are no symptoms.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“We need to acquire tissue samples. Run tests.”

Footsteps. They’re getting louder. I stop leaning on the door to plant myself firmly on the ground I stand on. The doors swing open, and the scribes almost jump out of their skins when they see me.

“Step aside, ghoul,” one of them spits. The small tremor his hands made while holding the clipboard tells me he’s scared shitless.

“No.”

I take one step towards these bastards and they’re already shouting for backup from the tin cans. Two arrived, but I stood my ground, shotgun in my hands.

“Let the scribes in, zombie,” one of the armored soldiers hissed, pointing her laser rifle at me. “We won’t ask again.”

“What is going on here?” Dr. Li. I lower my shotgun. She’s just in time. I wouldn’t have hesitated to open fire if she didn’t come.

“We’re just here for nightly rounds on the patient-” one of them starts, but Dr. Li waves her hand, dismissing them.

“I am responsible for the well-being of Miss Zhou. The Brotherhood only lent you scribes to assist me, and I don’t need assistance right now. Now please, stop disturbing my patient,” she snaps, the authority in her voice making the haughty scribes back off. I couldn’t help the small, upward tug at the corner of my mouth. Serves you bastards right.

“Call me on the intercom if they pester you again. I need to take Persephone’s blood pressure.”

“They said something about taking samples from her,” I spoke up, and the doctor’s head whips towards my direction.

“Damn them,” she mutters. “Thank you for telling me. Do not, under any circumstances, let them.”

One of my eyebrows cock at the doctor’s orders. “Is there anything I should know?”

Dr. Li stops, sighs, and turns to face me. “With James gone, I know she has no one else but you. I’d prefer if Persephone is lucid and away from this place if I was to breach this topic. Please, you have to understand. It’s unsafe here.”

I nodded at her, and she exhales slowly, unwrapping a pack of bandages to tend to what little burns Percy has left on her.

As I watch the doctor tend to Percy, her words play over and over in my head.

“She has no one else but you.”

#lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #charon #fallout charon #charon fallout #madison li #oc: percy zhou #fanfic: absolution #series: through river acheron #fallout 3 #fallout 3 fanfic #fallout #fallout fanfic #writers on tumblr

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mermaidxatxheart · 5 years

Text

It’s Always You {1}

Ok. Chapter One is finally here. I hope you enjoy it. Yes, I posted a sneak peek a couple weeks ago. This has since been updated, revised and is extended. Thank you so so so so so much to @everythingisoverrated for putting up with my insanity on this one. I made the mood board myself specifically for this story. If you want to be added or removed, send me an ask.

Pairing: Bucky X OFC

Word Count: 1964

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, angst, trauma, car accident. Sarcasm like you’ve never seen. Oh boy.

Summary: Ava has been in a car accident. When she wakes up, she’s surprised to find Captain America waiting for her. Will she be able to help him find the answers they’re both looking for?

Series Master List

The last thing I remember is the set of headlights coming directly at the left side of my car. The screeching of metal twisting, the hollow popping as the door panels crack and the shattering of glass are the last noises I hear.

Silence.

Blissful.

Pain-free.

Silence.

The next sound I become slowly aware of is a quiet beeping. A steady, even rhythm.

It almost lulls me back to sleep. But then I’m aware that something isn’t right. I try to roll over but my whole body is immobilized, held down, and I begin to panic. That quiet beeping becomes frantic, picks up speed. I can’t breathe. Something is blocking my airway, something hard forced down my throat.

“She’s awake!” A voice yells and there’s more noise. People talking over people, hands touching me, and my panic ratchets up another notch.

The hard plastic something is pulled out of my throat, leaving it burning and raw, but at least I can breathe. I gasp for air and my throat feels like it’s on fire.

“If you can hear me, you need to calm down. You’re safe, you’re in a hospital.” A voice says gently, a hand pressing on my shoulder.

I struggle to open my eyes, but for the first time I realize I can’t, they’re being held shut.

I try to lift my arms but they feel like dead weight and won’t move.

“Easy, now. Just relax.” The voice says again and I feel fingers against my eyes, but there’s a gap in the sensation. It takes me a long minute to realize that it’s because I can’t feel all of the fingertip.

Something like tape is pulled off my eye and I wince as pain flares. But now I can open my eyes. One only opens a little, it’s mostly swollen shut.

“Your eye kept popping open, it was unnerving some of the staff.” The voice says again, gentle and feminine.

I try to turn my head to look at her, but my neck won’t twist. “What happened to me?” I croak. My voice is scratchy and rough, and speaking even that much hurts like a bitch.

“Don’t try to move. You’re very lucky to be alive. Can you tell me what you remember?” She asks, stepping into my view. She’s very pretty, a dark-skinned beauty with obvious Western Asian features and a British accent.

“I…” I try to think back before waking up, but it’s just a big black void. Faces appear, my parents, my sisters, people I used to know, my boyfriend. “I was talking to my boyfriend... on the phone, I think.” I start, my good eye drifting down over my body.

It looks like the entire thing is in a cast. My legs are elevated, the left one in a complicated looking brace and the right one in red plaster. My arms are suspended in front of me, needles stuck along the fingers and thick bandages wrapped from my palms up to the middle of my forearms. My right arm is in a cast up to the middle of my bicep and I can feel the massive bandage over my right shoulder.

“And what were you doing at the time?” The doctor asks. Her face is kind and I want to answer, but thinking back that far hurts my head.

“I don’t remember.” I close my eyes, trying to calm down.

“That’s alright. Maybe with a little rest, it will come back to you. Can you tell me your name?”

“Ava. Ava Fonesca.”

“That’s really good. I’m Doctor Haskin. If you need anything or have any questions for me, you can always have a nurse page me.”

“Can’t you tell me what’s the matter with me?” I ask.

She glances towards the door for a moment. “Someone is here to see you. We can discuss your injuries later after you’ve had more time to heal.” She says, stepping outside.

I nearly choke at seeing the man who enters the room. He’s tall, he’s blond and those baby blue eyes seem to look right through me. They roamed over my injuries at first, only a natural instinct.

Captain America.

“Hi,” He says once his eyes meet mine.

“Hi,” I reply, feeling ridiculous. I should have a better comeback.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks.

“Don’t tell me you have amnesia, too. The whole world will fall apart if Captain Steve Rogers can’t remember who he is.” I reply, my jaw aches so I’m careful to keep it mostly shut.

He grins. “Finally, a sense of humor I can get along with.”

“You get along with everybody.” A female voice says as a woman comes into the room. She has red hair, bright green eyes, and a petite figure.

Wanda Maximoff.

“Don’t let him lie to you like that.” She says with a friendly smile at me.

I don’t respond, mostly because I’m trying to keep my panic under control.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks.

“Like an elephant is sitting on my chest,” I admit.

He gives a small chuckle. “I’ve been there. It will go away.” He stalls for a minute and I can tell the small talk is over.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Direct, to the point. I like her.” Wanda says, turning a little to Steve.

“We need to talk about what happened to you.”

“I don’t know anything,” I answer honestly.

“Okay. So, let’s talk about what you do know.” He pulls a chair close to the side of my bed.

“Literally nothing. Don’t tell me you’re going deaf already.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure that’s not true. You must know some stuff. You’re one of the best biochemists in the world, from what I hear.” He smiles and I have to try hard to resist rolling my eyes.

“Well, sure, I know stuff. But you’re not referring to what I know like that. You want to know what got me here and honestly, I have no idea.”

Wanda snorts in a very unladylike way behind Steve. My eyes slide to her. Does she not believe me?

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “So, do you remember going to work?”

I close my eyes, trying to focus. “I remember a conversation.” I want to rub my face. It’s frustrating to not have the mobility I should.

“With who? With your boyfriend?” Steve asks.

“No, with... with a friend. I think I sent him something.” I frown.

“Was this friend Michael Chambers?” Steve asks gently.

I try to nod, but can’t. “Yes. We went to Harvard together.” It dawns on me that I never said Michael’s name. “How did you know it was him?” I ask, my eye one good eye trained on Steve.

“He was found dead in his apartment two weeks ago. The same night you had your accident.”

Everything in me stops cold. The beeping next me flatlines for a minute before it picks up double time.

“Huh, I didn’t think that actually happens.” Wanda comments. Steve shushes her.

“Dead? How?” I ask, my face going numb.

“Self-inflicted gunshot wound.” He says it gently, like it will hurt less if he gives me those big blue puppy dog eyes.

This takes me a long time to comprehend. I can’t even picture what he’s telling me. A world where Michael isn’t alive doesn’t make sense. “He killed himself?” I say finally.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s... that’s not right.” I say, a cloud fogging up my mind.

“Suicide is never easy to process,” Steve starts.

“No, that’s... he was...” The taste of metal fills my mouth and pain flares on my tongue. “N-no-”

“Ava? What’s wrong?” Wanda asks, reaching a hand towards me.

My whole body goes rigid, locking everything into place, and then it’s like my nerves spark and explode. Everything on my bed and my body start shaking at once as my body tries to start convulsing.

Thankfully, I don’t feel anything after that as the darkness comes for me again.

Steve

“What do you mean you don’t know when she’s going to wake up?” I snap at Doctor Haskin. I’m aware that it’s not her fault, but I need to yell at someone.

“Brain injuries are complicated. Honestly, we were surprised she even woke up the first time. With that many concussed areas, it was a miracle she was able to open her eyes, to speak, to remember anything at all. With the extent of her injuries-it’s a damn miracle she lived. Her body is healing the best way it knows how.”

“It’s been two months since you put her into that coma.” I cross my arms over my chest, fists clenched underneath.

“Yes, and half of that since we took her off the medicine that induced it. I’m telling you, Captain Rogers. She may never wake up. You need to prepare yourself for that possibility.”

“She has information we need.”

“Then you should have thought about that before your interrogation sent her into a bout of seizures,” Haskin says with a glare before turning on her heel and storming away.

“Curvă,” Wanda mutters, looking after her.

I ignore her comment and turn to the girl in the bed. She had been on the verge of telling me something important, I’m sure of it. And whether the doc is right and I did cause this, or I didn’t and it would have happened anyway, I still feel awful. That’s probably why I’m still hanging around some random hospital in Maryland.

She’s pretty, I can see it better now that the swelling on her face has disappeared. Her high cheekbones give her face almost a heart shape. Her lips are a little pouty, a petite nose rests just above them. The scars that crisscross her face don’t take away from the natural beauty, and I hope that when she wakes up, because she just has to, she’ll see it that way too.

“Do you think I should...” Wanda trails off, giving her slender fingers a wiggle.

I look at her and shake my head. “No, whatever is going on with her, it should be her telling us. I think she might be pissed if she finds out we were digging around in her brain. Hopefully, she should wake up naturally from it. If she’s going to at all.”

“Captain.” A Wakandan accent reaches my ears and I turn to see one of the King’s Guard, the Dora Milaje.

“Yeah?”

“The woman’s partner is here again. Shall I send him away?” She asks.

“No, let him come up. He should be able to say his goodbyes.” I sigh and rub a hand over my face. This was always the hardest part.

The man, Jonathan, comes down the hallway, flowers in his hand.

“No change yet?” He asks. He always asks.

“No. I just spoke with the doc. Doesn’t look too good.” I tell him, trying to soften the blow.

“Yeah, they always say that, don’t they?” He steps into the room and sets the flowers in another vase. “She just doesn’t know Ava like I do. She’ll wake up, you’ll see.” He bends down and kisses her forehead. “Won’t you, baby? You’ll come back to me.”

Wanda makes a face and turns away. I also turn away, feeling even more guilty.

“Come on. Let’s go get some food. We can come back tomorrow.” I say to Wanda, pushing away from the window and heading for the door.

“Yes, please. I cannot watch a grown man call a grown woman ‘baby’. It’s pathetic.”

“What does Vision call you?” I ask with a smirk as I hold the door open for us.

“Wanda.”

I tip my head back and laugh loudly. “Of course, I honestly don’t know what else I was expecting.”

Chapter 2

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@katiew1973

#it's always you #bucky #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x ofc #romance #mystery #chapter fic #bucky x oc #mermaidxatxheart-writes

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 65

WARNING: SMU. NSFW. ASS stuff. You’ve been warned.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

She wakes to warm, soft breath on the back of her neck and a bulky, muscular arm wrapped securely around her. Some time in the very early morning hours he must have stirred; long enough to move onto his side and tightly tuck himself behind her. She’s missed this; the weight of his much heavier and stronger body pressed against her and those big, powerful arms with their scars and tattoos gracing smooth, tanned skin. The way she can feel his heartbeat against her back and each exhale of breath that tickles her shoulders and neck and flutters her hair. And his smell. It’s crisp and clean and reminds her of home; of the scent of the ocean and the fresh air that surrounds them. There’s nothing extraordinary or unique about it, but it’s HIM. It’s familiar and it’s comforting; clinging to his hair and his skin and his clothes. And it’s able to soothe her even on the roughest of days . Even when he’s away on a job and she’s in the midst of her most stressful and loneliest of moments it calms her; able to pull on one his shirts or sweater and bury her face in the fabric. Event the smallest of him able to queel the ache in her chest and those tears of panic and worry.

It’s there now. That smell. Lingering on his skin like a warm, comforting blanket. It’s been almost seven years and that scent has never changed and she never wants it to. It’s part of him. It IS him. And to her there’s no greater smell in the entire world. And he often laughs or rolls his eyes about it; amused when she continually buys that same shampoo and body wash and refuses to change the laundry soap. She doesn’t want it to be different. His smell is the one true constant, the one thing that’s always held firm and true even during his routine absences while in the game or even during their six month separation. His scent has always been around, even when he hasn’t. The thought of it one day evaporating is always too much to bear. Because if it’s gone...permanently gone...that means he is too. And there’s no thought that’s more terrifying or heartbreaking than that.

She wriggles closer to him; firmly pressing her back into his front and turning her face into the arm that is stretched out along her pillow. When they’d first met, there’d be no ink gracing the inside of his inner right bicep; just a handful of scars -some long jagged, some short and smooth- and a smattering of freckles. Now there’s two tattoos; the number of steps he’d taken on the Sultana Kamal Bridge and each of the kids’ initials and dates of birth; Addie being added only two days after she was born. She rests her cheek against his arm; relaxed and at rest, yet the muscle still hard and bulging under the skin. She hates the sight of the bruises; the damage caused by his assailant trying to pin him down by using his knees. They’re huge and fresh; deep purple and black and looking so painful. And she squeezes her eyes shut in an effort to hold back the tears that threaten; that powerful realization of just how close she’d come to losing such an enormous component of her life. She tries not to think about it. About how terrifying it all must have been for him. Things going so wrong, so quick. From being prepared to carry out what should have been a simple job -four people, four bullets- to fighting for his life.

He’s been there before; on that bridge in Dhaka and during those hours of surgery and the week following when he was still in grave danger and all the doctors were telling her that he would be better off if he DID die. That there was no proof he’d ever regain consciousness or even breath on his own once he was brought out of the medically induced coma and weaned off the ventilator. That if things were successful and his body was strong enough to support itself, he’d likely have long term, life altering complication; side effects from lack of oxygen to the brain when he’d coded twice on the operating table. Outside of those five days in that dirty hotel room and the hours they’d spent on the streets running for their lives, she hadn’t really known him. Yet the thought of him dying had been terrifying. It had been heartbreaking; the thought of NOT getting the chance to spend time with him and get to know him and dig through the lawyers of bravado mixed with hurt and grief and guilt. She’d wanted to know the real Tyler Rake. Not the hardened mercenary with years of baggage weighing him down and the distrust and the regret that darkened his eyes. Who he was before life had jaded him; before he’d built all those walls up around him.

But now...after seven years and having a life together and bringing five babies into the world...it’s overwhelming. Unable to stand the thought of him not being around. Not hearing his voice again or seeing his smile. Not tasting his kiss or feeling those callused hands on her body, or those strong, thick arms wrapping around her. The way his face softens when his children call him daddy and all those expressions that do far more speaking than any actual words do.

He moves against her. Lips pressing against the nape of her neck and his hand sliding down to her stomach; resting firmly. And she can’t help but smile at that simple yet loving gesture. He’s already fiercely protective when there isn’t a baby on the way; when there is, he kicks it up a notch. Several notches, in fact. But it’s more than that. More than wanting and needing to keep her and the baby safe. It’s how soft and sweet he becomes; how even his voice and his eyes change. He’s always been that way; since they’d found out about Millie all those years ago and he’d put those big, strong hands on her ever growing baby bump and get the most satisfied, proud look on his face. In awe at the thought of there being a little human in there. That he’d help create a life when he’d been so close to his ending.

She turns her face into the arm across her pillow; pressing a kiss to the inside of his bicep, followed by the crook of his elbow. Then lays her palm against his and laces their fingers together.

“You okay?” Tyler’s voice is groggy from sleep, rumbling deep in his chest.

“Mm-hm. I wonder what time it is.”

“Must be pretty early; kids aren’t up yet. Why are you even awake?”

“I woke up feeling nauseous. But it’s gone away already. Why are you up?”

“Why do you think?” A chuckle reverberates against his back as he places a kiss to her shoulder.

“You know…” Esme giggles. “...the morning you don’t wake up that way is the morning I really worry about you. You’re going to be eighty and STILL waking up like that.”

“The day I stop waking up like this is the day you’re allowed to kill me. Do you want me to put that in writing?”

“Don’t be a whiner. Besides, when you’re sixty five, I’m going to start crushing viagra and hiding it in your food.”

“I WILL put a gun in my mouth if I ever need that shit.”

She laughs. “And you wonder where Millie gets her dramatic from?” She lays her hand over top the room he has resting on her stomach, then gives a long, content sigh when she feels him nuzzle the back of her neck with the tip of his nose. “You’re so warm. I missed this. Being like this with you. Just how warm and cozy and safe you make me feel. And your arms; I definitely missed being in your arms,”

“I definitely missed you being in them, that’s for sure. I missed a lot of things.”

“Yeah, you made that VERY obvious last night. The inside of my thighs have the bite marks and hickies to prove it.”

He grins against the back of her neck. “Sorry.”

“Bullshit. You’re not sorry at all.”

“And it’s not just THAT that I missed. Although that was pretty fucking amazing. It’s everything. It’s you. It’s everything about you.”

“You know, regardless of what you say and how much you hate hearing it, you have these moments where you’re just so soft and so sweet. And I’m lucky because you’re only like that with me. I’m the only that gets to this side of you. Everyone gets the OTHER you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that you. I just prefer THIS you sometimes.”

“Only for you, baby. Only you.”

“Did you sleep okay? Once you managed to get back?”

“Those meds you gave me knocked me the fuck out.”

“Hydromorph. I asked Anil’s doctor to give you something powerful like Oxy but not Oxy itself. It’s the strongest possible without having you admitted and put on some kind of drop. Just be careful, okay? They can be really addictive and the last thing you need is another drug you can’t kick.”

“Esme, I know you worry about me, and I love you so much for that, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to be THAT guy again. You don’t have to worry about that, alright? That’s the last thing you have to worry about.”

“Listen, after seven years, you think you’d realize that despite telling me not to worry, I’m still going to worry.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about THAT.” He uses the tip of his nose to move her hair away from her neck and shoulder, then presses a series or feathery kisses to both.

“You know…” she says, as she squeezes his hand that rests on her stomach. “...there’s not going to be anything to feel for a while.”

“Doesn’t matter. There’s still a baby in there, yeah? How far along do you think?”

“Probably no farther than five or six weeks.”

“Just a little bean.”

She looks over her shoulder at him. . “Baby, you’re adorable”

He grins and places a kiss on her temple. “Shut up.”

“You are. You ARE adorable. It’s okay to be adorable, honey. You’re not less of a bad ass because of it. I know how tough you are. I know what you’re capable of. And I like that you can still be cute too. It’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you. One of the many things. Even in Dhaka. After we’d...you know…”

“Fuck?”

“To put it that way, yeah. Even then we’d talk and you’d tease me and say the cutest shit. That was when you'd let your guard down; when we’d lie there and talk. And you’d let me get a peek at what you were really like. What your HEART was like. Even then you were comfortable enough to be that way with me,”

“You’re the only I ever have been that way with.”

“Not even with your ex wife?”

“Not even with her.”

“Not even with your hoes in other places?”

“I didn’t have to talk much with them.”

“You’re making me feel all special and shit. That I’m the only one that’s ever made you made you feel that comfy.”

“You SHOULD feel special. Because it’s trust; even in Dhaka you managed. I don’t know it was like that, Whether it was just the way you are or you just fucked me so hard I lost all coherent thought and couldn’t function properly.”

“I must still be fucking you pretty hard because you’ve never regained coherent thought or proper function,” Esme teases.

Tyler grins, then presses a kiss to her ear. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“I know. I’m horribly mean to you. I’m a terrible wife. I have no idea why you stick around.”

“Well, you give really good head. And you let me do things to your ass, so…”

“You’re such a pig,” she laughs, then turns her face into his and pecks his lips. “I don’t know how I put up with you. But I do. For some reason.”

“I can think of a couple.”

“A couple of non sexual things?”

He frowns. “Okay, that’s harder. I’m sure there’s a few things I do that keep you around. I mean, I get shit off the high shelves for you. And I’m the one that fishes the wayward socks out of the bottom of the washer.”

“You clean the bathrooms and take the garbage out,” she says. “And you get rid of the spiders and the snakes. All the important shit, basically. And you look damn good with your shirt off. Trust me, that helps.”

“See? I’m useful.”

“Very.” She speaks between kisses to his lupus. “You’re very useful. And you’re very adept at making babies. A little too adept at it, actually.”

“Got the snip and I STILL put one in you.”

She looks over her shoulder, staring at him pointedly.

“What?”

“I know what you’re going to say next. And I’m warning you right now, Tyler James. Don’t say it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. And I can see those wheels turning in your head and I know it’s right on the tip of your tongue.”

“Baby, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” she grumbles, but pecks his lips and then turns around once more; closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against his bicep as it rests beside her head.

“It’s all the proof I need that I have super sperm.”

“Goddamnit!” She huffs and he chuckles against her shoulder. “I hate you so much sometimes. I mean, not really. I just hate when you say that. It drives me fucking insane.”

“Why do you think I say? I say it because I know it bothers you.”

“You’re evil,” she declares, then promptly bursts into a fit of exhaustion induced giggles. Which in turn makes him laugh even harder. “I love you,” she says. “I really do. So much. Everything about you.”

“I love you, too. Even when you’re a raging bitch and you say you hate me.”

“I was joking. I could never hate you. Ever.”

“Not even during those six months?”

“Not even then. I didn’t hate you. Tyler. I hate what was happening to you. To US. I didn’t like you very much and I was angry with you. But I didn’t hate you. I never could. I love you way too much. Did you ever hate me?”

“No. Not even for a single second. Was I pissed? Yeah. Was I hurt? Absolutely. But I was also drunk a lot and taking a lot of meds so I wasn’t exactly thinking right, was I? Had I not been that fucked up, I wouldn’t have been angry and I wouldn’t have blamed you for kicking my ass out. I would have realized I deserve it. That I was a fucking dick.”

“I’m not just talking about that. About kicking you out. I’m talking about what almost happened AFTER I did.”

“Baby…” he presses his lips against her cheek. “...that’s a long time ago.”

“Three and a half years is NOT a long time.”

“It is. Because that was a different life. A different time. And we got past it. All of it. So it WAS a long time ago.”

“I wanted to hurt you.” her voice quivers with emotion. “How horrible is that? That I actually wanted to hurt someone that I love more than anything or anyone else in the entire fucking world? How horrible am I?”

“Stop,” he gently orders, and tightens his hold on both her hands. “Just stop. It was a bad fucking time. I was messed up and I did shitty things and I said shitty things. I hurt you first. I’m definitely not innocent and it was definitely my fault things went so bad.”

“I was just so hurt and I wanted you to hurt too,” she continues. “You broke my heart, Tyler. You put them before us. Before your kids. And then the drinking and the meds and it was tearing us apart and ruining our family and you didn’t seem to give a shit. And that hurt. So I wanted you to hurt too.”

“Esme...stop…” He lifts his head from the pillows and kisses the corner of his mouth. “...I’m pretty sure this is your hormones doing this.”

“I’m sorry. That I wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry, Tyler.”

“I would have deserved it.”

“No. You wouldn’t have. Not that. Definitely not THAT.”

“Well, It didn’t happen. So…”

“But it would have. If I didn’t smarten the fuck up right BEFORE it did.”

“But it didn’t. And you know what? Even if it did? We would have gotten past that too. So don’t do this, okay? None of that matters anymore. You’re working yourself up for nothing. I know you always go a little crazy when you’re pregnant, but..”

“I love you. So much. And I hate myself for almost doing that to you.”

“Well you didn't. And if you had, you had your reasons. Pretty damn good ones. But it’s all behind us and none of that shit matters anymore. And I love you. More than I ever thought I could ever someone. So please…” he presses a kiss to her temple. “...calm down, yeah? The baby needs you calm. Remember what the doctor said every other time ? About being calm and avoiding stress?”

“I’m married to a mercenary. How am I supposed to avoid stress?”

“The doctor doesn’t exactly know what I do for a living,” Tyler reminds her.

“He thinks you’re ex-military. Which isn’t exactly a life. You ARE. But I can’t tell him you’re a mercenary. You know how fast child protective services will be on our doorstep? And they won’t care what you’re like when you’re at home or happy the kids are. They’ll take them just based on your job alone.”

“I think you’re getting worked up over shit that you don’t need to worry about. So do me a favor and calm the fuck down. The shit your brain comes up with, I swear. I don’t know where it comes up with it or how, but fuck…”

“It’s definitely hormones.”

“You think? Shit.”

“Only time I was THIS hormonal this early was with the twins.”

“Jesus Christ,” he scowls. “Don’t say that. Please don’t.”

“What’s the chances, do you think? On another set? Two sets of twins in one family?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to think about it. I’m still wrapping my head around the idea of one. Don’t put the ‘t word’ out into the universe.”

She laughs at that. “You’ve been talking to Andy too much. That’s his thing. About how if you put something out into the universe, it actually happens.”

“He’s a good shit. Good guy to talk to.”

“I like that you have a friend. A NORMAL friend.”

“As opposed to…”

“Homicidal mercenaries. Andy’s about as far from that as it gets. I just like the idea of having a friend period. Someone that you can hang out with and talk to.”

“I hang out with you,” Tyler points out. “I talk to you.”

“I’m your wife.”

“You’re also my best friend.”

“Someone OTHER than me. You need that. A buddy. Someone can bitch about me with.”

“I bitch about you to your face. I don’t need a friend to bitch about you, trust me.”

She snorts. “You’re such a sweet talker. So romantic,”

“I saw the talking for dirtier times.”

Esme laughs. “Yes. You do. That’s when you do your BEST talking.”

“Yep,” he agrees. “And speaking of dirtier times…” the hand that was on her stomach slides up the front of his t-shirt and down the front of her sleep shorts.

She sighs dramatically. “You’re hopeless.”

“No. I’m horny.”

“So am I,” she admits.

“Yeah? Want me to do something about it?”

“I do, actually.” She rolls over onto her side to face him. “I DO want you to do something about it.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know…” she reaches up and pushes his hair off his forehead. “...I want you to be all bossy and aggressive and just pin me down and fuck me senseless.”

He grins broadly. “That’s the spirit.”

“I don’t know your body will let you though. You’re pretty hurting.”

“How about you let my body decide for itself and prove you wrong.”

“It has before. Many times. So what do you say?” She kisses his lips; drawing his bottom one between her teeth just as she tightly grips his cock through his boxer briefs. “Think you’re up to it?”

“I’m almost FULLY up to it.”

“Maybe YOU need some help.” Her fingertips graze against the skin just above the waistband of his shorts, then slide down the front of them, A satisfied, almost proud smirk playing on her lips when the simple brush of her palm causing his eyes to darken and a groan to rumble on his throat; hips jerking against her. “Very impressive, Tyler,” she says, and then grasps his hardening cock and swipes the pad of her thumb over the tip. “...I think you should put that to good use.”

“Oh I will. But I wanna do something first.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

He grins, then roughly shoves her onto her back.

“I love when you get all aggressive and shit,” Esme declares, lifting her hips off the bed when he yanks her shorts down, enabling him to easily slide them over her ass. “It’s my favorite you. My favorite ‘sex you’ anyway.”

“Yeah, I found that out early. That first time in Dhaka. Didn’t take long to discover that.”

“You liked it. You liked that I let you be in charge and manhandle me.”

“I still do. So do me a favor. Don’t talk. Just lie there and let me eat you out.”

She grins. “You’re bossy.”

“I just know what I want.”

He shoves her legs open; hand tightly gripping the backs of her thighs. Wasting no time as his mouth latches onto her pussy; pulling her clit between his lips and roughly suckling before pushing his tongue deep inside. Hands kneading and squeezing her thighs and then her ass as his tongue moves inside of her. Aggressively fucking her with with it until she’s squirming beneath him and lewd, pleasured noises spill from her mouth and her own hands slide up the front of her shirt. It’s a beautiful sight; eyes fixated on her as her hands firmly cup and massage her breasts and her fingers toy with her nipples; twisting and pulling and plucking at them. Her own eyes closed and her cheeks flushed and her entire body drawn impossibly tight. Crying out when his tongue slips from inside of her and concentrates on her clit; long, slow laps and then intricate circles made with the tip. His pace methodical and patient and nothing short of torture.

“More…” she pleads, as one hand reaches down to grasp at his hair and her hips lift from the bed; pressing her dripping pussy against his mouth. “...I need more.”

The movements of his mouth become. He’d long ago learned exactly what she likes, wants, and needs. Just how to move his tongue and how firmly to press it against the most sensitive spots; just how hard he can suck and how rough his teeth can bite down. It’s a turn on; her taste, her smell, the shuddering of her body and the sounds she’s making and the way she brings her hips up and fucks herself against his face. And his hands abandon her thighs; one moving between her legs as two fingers delve into her as far as they can do; turning his palm upwards so the tips of those digits can find and manipulate her g-spot. Never halting the movements of his lips and tongue; devouring her as if he’s a man condemned and he’s been given his very last meal. The fingers of his other hand push their way past her ass cheeks; the tips brushing against that tight, puckered hole.

“Don’t stop…” she begs. “...don’t stop...please...Tyler...don’t stop…”

Both his fingers and mouth become rougher. Greedy. And when he feels her lock up in places he never thought someone could lock up, he presses against the spot deep inside of her just as two fingers push their way into their ass; all the way to the third knuckle. That’s when her orgasm hits; entire body tensing and one hand still pulling at her nipples while a forearm covers her mouth in order to muffle that scream that erupts from it. Yet he doesn’t stop; continuing the licking and the sucking and the fingering -of both holes- until she comes again; even more powerful than the first.

He gives her little time to recuperate; hands on her hips and fingers digging into the flesh as he flips her over onto her stomach. A palm coming to rest on the small of her back when she attempts to push herself up onto her knees.

“Down,” he orders. “On your stomach.”

He uses his thighs to push hers open; knees holding them exactly where he wants them. Reaching around to grasp her lightly be the throat; a wrapping around his cock as he briefly rubs the engorged, weeping tip against her pussy before pushing into her ass instead.

“Fuck!” She cries out. “Tyler...fuck…”

“Is that ‘keep going’ or a ‘stop’?” He inquires. “Tell me what you want. You want me to stop?”

She shakes her head. “No...it’s okay...I think. It just hurts.”

“I can’t stop. I’m not going to force anything on you. You know that.”

“No. It’s okay. I’m fine. Just be careful. Please.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. If you want me to stop, just say it, okay?”

She nods.

“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not okay with this…”

“I’m okay,” she assures her. “I’m just...you’re...well you’re just really big.”

He grins. “Thanks.”

She manages a laugh. “And it’s uncomfortable but I don’t want you to stop at the same time. I’m not making any sense right now, I know. I just...I don’t know...don’t break me in half or anything like that.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “I’m not THAT good.”

“Yeah, you are, actually. Fuck…” her eyes squeeze shut when he pulls out completely. “...why’d you do that? I said I was fine.”

“I know. Just try and relax some more. It’s only going to hurt more than it should if you don’t relax.” He reaches between her legs to gather up some of that warm, slick fluid and then uses it to lubricate his cock. “Just breathe, okay? Just breathe and just relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll be gentle, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods, then buries her face in the sheets below when he presses into her once again; slower than before, giving her ample chance to adjust to him. A hand still wrapped around her throat; sweat beading across his brow and dripping down his temples. A low, feral growl escaping him when he buries himself completely.

“You alright?” He leans down to press kisses along her spine. “You good?”

“I’m okay,” she confirms. “It just feels...I don’t know...weird. I guess. In a good way.”

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you. And I love you. You trust me?”

“I wouldn’t be letting you do this if I didn’t.”

“I’m not gonna last long. You’re so right and you feel so fucking good.”

“It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you. I just...shit…” she whimpers when he pulls back slightly, then slowly sinks back in. “...fuck...Tyler...that feels so good….so fucking good.”

“You are so beautiful,” With one hand still on her throat, the other gathers up her hair and moves it away from her neck; lips travelling slowly along her shoulder. “You’re so beautiful and so fucking amazing and I love you so much.”

“Fuck me,” she pleads. “I need you to fuck me. Like this. Please. Just fuck me.”

He gives her what she wants. Dedicating himself to slow and deep thrusts that have her crying out into the mattress and her hands tightly fisting the sheets. Until she’s begging him for more; wanting it harder and faster. Her pleas not stopping until he’s quickened and deepened his pace and his balls are slapping against her ass and she’s reaching between her legs to rub frantically at her clit.

Suddenly -without any warning- he’s thinking about it. That moment three and a half years ago when another man could have experienced this. When another man could have had his hands and his mouth on her. Could have been buried deep inside of her and fucking her into the mattress. He’s unable to stifle the rage that takes hold; that has his hand tightening around her throat as his movements become harder and faster. Punishing. Spurred on by the noises of pleasure she’s making and the way her hips move against his and match every thrust. Until she’s cumming for the third time that morning; screaming his name and shoving her ass back at him. And he pulls out of her when he reaches his own release; powerful enough to shake his entire body, painting the small of her ass and the small of her back with hot streams of cum.

Neither of them speak. The hand around her throat relaxing and his eyes closing; chin to his chest and his heart pounding.

He hates himself already.

****

They both doze; wrapped in a mess of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs. And when he wakes once more, he’s on his side with her head tucked under his chin and her lips pressed against his throat, warm breath tickling his skin. And he runs a gentle palm over her head, combing his hand through her hair and letting the fine, silky, dark tresses slip between his fingers.

She yawns; her legs stretching out and her toes curling as her bare feet peek out from the bottom of the blanket. Pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple and then the underside of his chin before pulling back to look up at him; those eyes dark and loving and a soft, content smile curving her lips.

“Hey,” she greets, and he kisses the end of her nose.

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

He nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re lying on your bad shoulder.”

“It’s fine. For now.”

“You’re so stubborn.” she sighs, then places her hands on the side of his face and kisses him; long and soft and sweet, body pressing against his.

She feels so fucking good; breasts flattened against his chest, every curve of her body so smooth and supple, skin impossibly soft. The tip of her tongue grazing against the end of his just before she pulls away; his eyes never leaving her face; searching every of it as his fingers move through her hair.

“You okay?” he asks.

Esme nods. “A little sore,” she admits.

“Want me to get YOU some pain meds?”

She smirks. “I will punch you in the throat and not feel the least bit sorry for it.”

“You’re the one who said I was big.”

“Like you don’t know you are? Like you aren’t proud of it? How many times do you see your dick every day? You know you’re blessed. Don’t even try and deny it. It’s okay to be a bit cocky.”

“That’s a very interesting choice of words considering the subject. Cocky.”

“You are such a fucking ass sometimes!”

“Wow, you’re on a roll today. Fucking ass? Considering you just let me…”

“I swear to God, I will kill you in your sleep,” she declares, and shoves him over onto his back. “And I’m fine,” she says, as she settles down on her stomach beside him, chin resting on his shoulder. “You were very gentle. And sweet. At first. I don’t know what happened at the end there. You went a little...I don’t know...off the reservation.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

“I would have told you if it was THAT bad. I would have made you stop. It just surprised me. That you got like that. It wasn’t a horrible thing. It was just...unexpected.”

“I’m sorry,” he pushes his fingers into her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay. It just took me by surprise, that’s all. You just went from one extreme to the other. Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You didn’t. It was just my brain. Going somewhere it shouldn’t have. You know how it does that sometimes.”

She nods, and runs her knuckles along his jaw.

“Want me to trim it?”

“I like it like this. When it gets really full and thick and it looks so dark. It’s very sexy. The hair though…”

“It’s exactly the way you like it. Top’s all grown in. Just gotta shave the back and the sides. I’ll be nice and let you do that for me.”

“It’s like Christmas! I get the full beard AND the old haircut? Not to mention three orgasms in one morning? You spoil me.”

“I try to. I try to be a good husband.”

“And you do a very good job. You’re a damn good husband. I think I’ll keep you.” She slides further up the bed; draping her arm along his collarbone and resting her forehead against the side of his head.

“Thank you, by the way.” He places a kiss on her forehead and then wraps an around her, hand settling on the small of her back. “That's a really nice early anniversary present. I was not expecting you to go along with that.”

“I guess I was in a mood.”

“I guess so.”

“And it wasn’t an early gift. It was a ‘just because’ gift. You still have our anniversary to look forward to.”

“Twice? In one year?”

She nods.

“You are way too good to me.”

“Someone has to be,” she reasons, and nuzzles her nose against his ear. “Do you think we should tell anyone? About the baby?”

“Depends. Do you want to tell people?”

“I think we should wait. Until the second trimester. Because the last time something went wrong, we told people right after we found out I was pregnant. And that didn’t turn out so well, so…”

“Whatever you want, baby. We wanna wait, we wait. You wanna tell people, we tell people. I’m good with whatever.”

“You realize I’m not letting you leave this house now right? That you HAVE to stay? That I need you to stay?”

“I wasn’t going to leave anyway. I already made up my mind last night. When we talked about it. It made more sense; what you said. It is better...for all of us...if I stay here. I have more control here; I can keep an eye on you and the kids. And now? I especially need to keep an eye on you now.”

“I really love that you go all ‘protective daddy to be mode’, but you’re going to have to rein it in a bit if we’re not telling people. But thank you; for agreeing to stay here. I don’t want you out there. On the street. I didn’t want you out there to begin with. I especially don’t want it now that Mahajan has stepped things up. Every gun in Mumbai is pointed at you, Tyler. And being out there would be a disaster. So thank you, for staying here. Because in a way, I get to keep MY eye on YOU. You’re not the only one worries about the person you love, you know.”

He smiles and kisses her. “I know.”

“What do you want this time?” She asks. “A boy or a girl?”

“I just want a healthy baby. And a healthy momma.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because that’s all that really matters to me. Although, I have to admit, I DID want a boy the second time.”

“And you ended up with two.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “I did. And they’re pretty fucking awesome.”

“Well their dad’s pretty fucking awesome, so…” she pecks his lips. “...I think I want another girl.”

“Well the hell would you wish that on me?”

“What are you talking about? You’re an amazing girl dad.”

“Doesn’t mean I want another. Girls are way worse than boys. The boys have been easy compared to Millie.”

“I won’t deny that. But, there is already way too much testosterone in our house. I mean, you alone have enough for the entire New South Wales area. Do we really have to add another one to the mix?”

“Maybe it will be two. One of each.”

“Now it’s my turn to tell you to shut up.”

He gives a small chuckle, then presses a kiss to her brow before she settles her head against his shoulder. “I need to ask you something. And I don’t want you flipping your shit on me. It’s just something I want to know. That I NEED to know.”

Her fingers fidget with the chain around his neck. “Okay…”

“I want to know who it is.”

“Who who was?”

“The guy. When we split up. I wanna know who it was.”

She raises her head to look at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Why are we talking about this? When I brought it up, you were the one who said it didn’t matter. That was years ago and we put it all behind us. Those were your exact words . So why are you even bringing it up again?”

“I want to know who it was.”

“Why? Why do you want to know?”

“You don’t think I should know who my wife almost fucked?”

“Almost. That’s the key word. Almost. It never happened. So why the hell does it matter who it was? Nothing happened. Or are you suggesting that it did and I’m lying about it. Is that what you’re doing? You think something DID happen. You think I cheated on you.”

“No. I don’t think that. I know you didn’t.”

“I told you when we got back together. About that night. I was honest with you. I told you exactly what happened and what went down. And you were okay with it. You said you believed me.”

“I do believe you.”

“Then what the fuck? You’re bringing this up now? After you told me NOT to talk about it. Have you been thinking about it all this time? Since I brought it up? Were you thinking about when we were…” her eyes narrow. “...oh my god. You were. You WERE thinking about it then. That’s why you got the way you did. You let it into your head and it pissed you off and you wanted to punish me, didn’t you. That’s why you got as rough as you did. It was to punish me.”

“That wasn’t…”

“Bullshit. It was. You don’t think that after seven years, that I don't know how you work? I know you better than you know yourself half the time. I know what you get like; when you get pissed off and you need to take it on someone. And that someone is usually me. You were punishing me. Because you didn’t like thinking about me with someone else.”

“You blame me?”

“Yeah, I do. Because you never let shit go. It’s totally okay that I have to think about your past and all the women you fucked. Including Nik, who, I might add, you asked to come here and keep an eye on me and your kids despite all the damage she caused. Despite the fact she has spent six and a half years trying to wreck our marriage and break our family apart and fuck you every chance she could. Yet she’s still here, isn’t it. You put her right in my fucking face. You didn’t think that would bother me? You think I’d just get over everything she did? It was her fucking fault I even lost that baby. And yet here she is. And here you are acting like I’m supposed to just get over and kiss her ass.”

“Okay, calm down. Just…”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down. I told you about that guy. As soon as I let you back in the house and we agreed to work on things. I told you about him and you were fine with it. You said you believed me.”

“I do. I do believe you. I don’t think anything happened. Well, nothing more than what DID happen.”

“Then what does it matter? Who the fuck cares who it was?”

“I fucking care!” He snaps. “I fucking care who it was!”

“Why? Give me one good reason why it matters to you? So you can hold it over my head for the rest of my life?”

“I would never...ever...do that.”

“You’re doing it right now! That’s exactly what you’re doing! I didn’t do anything wrong. We were split up. You fucked things up, remember? You put the job and the booze and the drugs before your family and I wasn’t putting up with that shit and I kicked your ass out. And what did you do? Instead of fighting to get your family back? You just drank more and took more meds and fucking wallowed in your self pity and your own self hate while I was raising your fucking kids!”

“Settle down, okay?” He takes her face in his hand. “Please. Just settle down. I need you to settle down.”

“You could have come home. You could have decided we were worth more to you. But you didn’t. You got worse and worse and started taking the worst possible jobs you could. The more dangerous, the better, right Tyler? That was what you were thinking. Instead of getting over your shit and getting your family back, you became the guy you were before we met.”

“That’s not true. That’s not what was I doing. That’s not what…”

“That’s exactly what you were doing!” She shoves his hands away. “Where were you? You could have fought for us. You could have fought for me. And you didn’t.”

“What did you want me to do?”

“I wanted you to love me enough to fight for me! I wanted you love me enough to say ‘fuck the job, fuck the booze, fuck the meds’ and come home and make things right. And you didn’t. You just got worse. What did you want me to do? Come begging on my hands and knees? Is that what you wanted?”

“No, baby. That’s not what I wanted.”

“You put me in the worst possible fucking situation. I was raising three kids on my own. I was the one they cried to when you were too drunk to show up to visit them. You put that all on me. And you have the nerve to ask me who some guy was that I could have fucked and didn’t? Fuck you, Tyler. I don’t owe a name. Or a face. I owe you shit.”

“Please…” both hands tightly grip the back of her head and he rests his forehead against her. “...just calm down, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. Cause this. That’s not what I was trying to do. Just calm down. For the baby.”

“Nothing happened. Between me and that guy.”

“I know.”

“Do you know? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you believe me?”

He pulls back to look at her. “I believe you, Esme. I’ve always believed you.”

“If I tell you what happened, you have to promise me you’ll let it go. That you’ll put it behind us. Promise me, Tyler. That if I tell you…”

“DID you fuck him?”

“No. But there’s more to it than you think. That I didn’t tell you before because I knew you’d snap and I knew you’d hunt him down and beat the shit out of him and quite possibly kill him and I didn’t want you doing that.”

“Esme...what the fuck...?”

“It wasn’t anyone you know. It was someone from the daycare Millie and the twins were in.”

“A worker? There was like one guy that worked and I’m pretty sure he was gay because you used to come onto me all the time. Unless it was one of the girls and…”

“It was a dad. From the daycare. A single dad.”

“Which one?”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t know him. He was a cop. That’s all I’m going to tell you about him. You don’t need to know his name or what he looked like or anything like that. I just need you to listen. I need to tell you the whole truth. Can you do that? Just listen?”

He nods.

“He asked me out and I said yes. Because I was pissed off and I was lonely and I wanted…I don’t know...I guess I wanted someone to want me. To look at me and tell me I was beautiful and desirable and all that shit. That’s what I wanted. Attention. What woman doesn't? And I wanted it from you and I wasn’t going to get it because of how fucked up things were. So he asked me out and I went. Because I needed that. I wanted someone to want me.”

“I wanted you. I wanted my wife.”

“And when you didn’t fight for me, that just pissed me off more and it made me want all that attention even more. So I went out on a date. And that’s all it was supposed to be. But I was drinking and he was drinking and everything coming out of his mouth sounded so good and I was falling for it and believing him and…”

“Jesus fuck, Esme.”

“...and I was going to go through with it. I was. Or I thought I was.”

“Where? In our bed?”

“What? No. I could never do that, Tyler. Ever. No. It wasn’t at the house. It was at his place.”

“You went to his place?”

“Like I said, I was drinking and I was enjoying the attention and believing all the shit he was saying and…” she pauses, taking in a gulp of breath. “...and I was going to do it and I changed my mind. I told him that I couldn’t do it because I was in love with my husband and he was the only man I wanted and I was hoping things would work out. And he didn’t like hearing that. I mean, he REALLY didn’t like hearing that. And he got pissed and started freaking out and trying to do things to me…”

“Esme...please tell me he didn’t…”

“He didn’t. I punched him in the face. And kicked him in the nuts. Then I left. The next time I saw you...when you got back from Panama... I had that bruise on my face…”

“The one you told me you got when Millie accidentally kicked you.”

“That’s the worst he did. But I didn’t want you to know the truth because I thought you’d hate me. I already thought you hated me. And I was still in love with you and I was still hopeful that you’d get your shit together and come home. That’s why I lied to you; about the bruise. And about why I took the kids out of the daycare. I said it was because of staff cuts and money issues and that’s not what it was. It was so I didn’t have to see that guy ever again.”

“Baby…” he lays a hand on the back of her head, drawing her face down into his shoulder. “...it’s okay…”

“I’m sorry. That I lied to you. I wanted to tell you everything. But I didn’t want you to hate me. I was worried if I told you, you’d never come home and I wanted you to come so bad. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I would never have hated you.”

Her hands cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. “I wanted you to fight for me and you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I was a mess. I was a fucking mess and I was weak and I didn’t know what to do.”

“When you did come home and we started working on things I didn’t tell you the whole story because I knew how mad you’d get it and I knew you’d find out who it was and that you’d track him down and you’d beat the shit out him.”

“I would have done more than beat the shit out of him.”

“And that’s not what I wanted. I just wanted to forget about it. And I knew you wouldn’t let it go. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to hate me. I didn’t want you to leave.”

“Why would I leave? I was home. That’s where I wanted to be. With you. With my kids.”

“I thought you wouldn't believe me. I thought for sure you’d think I DID sleep with that guy and then you’d hate me and leave me and never come back. I’m sorry, Tyler. That I ever even went anywhere with that guy. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“It’s alright, baby. It’s alright. I never would have hated you and I never would have left. I would have believed you. Just like I believe you now. It’s okay…” he cradles her face in his hands, lips pressed against her forehead. “...you’re okay.”

“Are we okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I thought you’d be angry. At me.”

“I have no reason to be angry. And I’m sorry. That I was such a fuck up back then. I wanted to come home. I did. But I was a mess and you didn’t deserve that and neither did the kids. And yeah; maybe I did take jobs hoping they’d kill me. I already thought I’d lost everything. I didn’t think it mattered if someone put a bullet in me.”

“It would have mattered to me. And your kids. I just wanted to get your shit together and come home. And it never seemed to matter to you how much I begged and pleaded with you. It never got through. And I wish none of this ever happened. I’m sorry. That things got THAT bad.”

“I’m the one that’s sorry. It was my fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me.”

“Can you put it behind us now? Now that you know the whole truth? Can we let it go? Can YOU let it go?

He nods.

“I love you. So fucking much. You have no idea. You really don’t.”

“I love you, baby..,” he uses his thumbs to clear away the tears that glisten under her eyes and on her cheeks. “...I always have. I always will.”

She kneels in front of him and wraps both arms around his neck, squeezing as tight as she possibly can.

“It’s alright." He runs his hands up and down her back and kisses the side of her neck. “Everything’s alright now.”

“No. It’s not. My ass is still sore.”

He can’t help but laugh at that.

“And you wonder why I only give in once a year.”

“I’m sorry that my dick is THAT big.”

“Ninety nine percent of the time, I think it’s a blessing. This is the one percent of the time it’s not. I’m going to take a bath. Are you okay with the kids? Your body can hang in there? You’re not in too much pain?”

“I’m okay. I’ve been in worse pain. You’ve seen me a lot worse off.”

“Yeah, I have. And I don’t want to see it again. Promise me you’ll stay here. With us. Because we need you here. I NEED you here.”

“I promise,” he says, and presses a kiss to her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Chris Hemsworth character #best part of me

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lopithecusfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Blinded in Chains: Chapter Two

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2934 Alternate: AO3 Author's Note: I just want to thank you all for reading this! I hope you enjoy this second chapter as well! Tag List: @justsmilestuffhappens @tkandbuck @poppy3019 @mysepticheartfan1 @idealuk @irrationalyperfect @claire-nyc

Buck doesn’t know how long he and May sit there but he does know it’s for several minutes. The others are probably wondering where they are. When they are just about to get up, Buck spots a frantic looking woman in her early thirties, carrying a four-year-old girl. He quickly gets up and approaches her.

“Beth!” he says in greeting.

“Buck!” She comes to a halt in front of him and looks at the little girl. “The babysitter couldn’t keep her and I couldn’t find anyone else to watch her.” She frowns, tears evident in her eyes. “I would have been here sooner but I couldn’t get out of work, I hate working there, they don’t care, and-”

“Beth,” Buck cuts her off, reaching for the little girl. She gladly hands her over. “It’s okay. Let’s just get the two of you inside, okay? I can watch Chloe.”

Beth shakes her head. “No, I can’t ask you to do that, I-”

“It’s your husband, Beth,” he says, trying to reassure her. “It’s fine, really.”

She hesitates before finally nodding. The three of them turn and walk back in, Buck quickly introducing her to May as Hammond’s wife and daughter. When they get back to the waiting room, Bobby immediately jumps up and so does Hen and Chimney. Athena stays where she is sat and May goes to join her.

“Where’s Isaac? Can I see him?” Beth asks before anyone else can say anything.

Chimney looks at Buck cautiously. “Why don’t we bring little Chloe here over to the toys.”

Buck nods in agreement and allows Bobby, Hen, and Beth to talk. He keeps an eye on them as he sets Chloe down by some toys, the little girl immediately going over to the bead maze rollercoaster toy. He watches as Beth listens closely, and as tears start rolling down her pink cheeks, and when she covers her mouth with her hand and starts sobbing.

Buck turns to Chimney in alarm. “What happened?”

Chimney sighs heavily, sitting back in the chair. “Hammond crashed about twenty minutes ago. He’s on life support now.”

Buck’s heart thumps into his throat, making it hard to swallow. “Eddie?”

Chimney shakes his head. “No word yet.”

Buck bites his bottom lip and wills himself to not start crying again. He doesn’t want to scare Chloe plus his eyes hurt from all the crying he had done earlier. Chloe walks up to him, looking sad and confused. “Why is mommy upset?”

Buck exchanges a look with Chimney before picking the little girl up and settling her into his lap. She snuggles up into his chest, curling into herself. “She just got some bad news.”

“What was it?” she asks.

Buck takes a breath, closes his eyes, and then reopens them when he feels like he isn’t going to choke on whatever is lodged in his throat. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your mommy is going to have to tell you that.”

As if knowing what was happening, Beth slowly walks over to them, wiping at her eyes. “Chloe, honey, come on. We’re going to go see Daddy.”

Chloe hops off Buck’s lap and lets her mom pick her up. “Is he okay?”

Beth chokes on a whimper. “No, baby, he’s not.”

She turns to leave but Buck stops her, standing and calling out to her. She turns back towards him, eyes wet with unshed tears. “I’m really sorry.”

She nods and licks her lips. A tear escapes and she immediately wipes it away. “For all it’s worth, I really hope Eddie makes it.” She leaves then, a nurse showing her the way to her husband’s room.

Buck watches her go sadly. “Does she have to choose?”

“Whether or not to take him off life support?” Chimney confirms. He nods. “Yeah.”

“How do you do that? Just choose whether or not someone dies?”

“You won’t have to do that for Eddie, Buck,” Chimney reassures, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Buck shrugs it off. “No, because that job is going to go to his parents.” Then, “Has anyone even called his parents?”

“I’m sure Bobby or Eddie’s grandmother did. Buck,” Chimney starts. “No one is going to have to make that decision. Eddie’s strong. He’s a fighter.” He then gives a couple of raps to Buck’s back, walking past him. “Come on, let’s go sit back down.”

Buck follows him slowly, his feet feeling like lead. Now, more than ever, he wants to know what is happening with Eddie. He sits down next to Chimney heavily, Eddie’s Abuela eyeing him from where she is still sitting. He avoids eye contact with her, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst earlier.

Ten minutes later, a doctor finally comes out, asking for Eddie’s family. Each and every one of them stands up and walks over to the doctor, who looks from one to the other with wide, overwhelmed, eyes. “Are you all Mr. Diaz’s family?”

“Yes,” Bobby answers immediately and Isabel doesn’t dispute it.

The doctor looks doubtful but continues anyway. “Mr. Diaz is currently being transferred to the ICU.”

“So he’s okay?” Buck asks.

“For now,” the doctor says. “He has some significant burning on his hands and face as well as his torso.” Buck flashes back to how destroyed his turnout gear had been when they found him. He swallows thickly as the doctor continues. “His hands have third-degree burns on them, the right hand being worse than the left, and part of his face also has third-degree burns. The burns on his torso are second-degree burns. We’ll be monitoring them to make sure they don’t worsen. He has some broken ribs, a broken left arm, and a severe concussion. There was also bruising to the lungs, the kidneys, and heart along with other internal injuries. We’ll be monitoring those closely as well. We put him on a ventilator for now. Luckily his digestive system was unharmed so we were able to put him on a feeding tube.”

“Feeding tube?” Bobby interjects.

“We’re keeping him in a medically induced coma for now to give his body some time to heal.” The doctor takes a deep breath as if gearing himself up to say the next thing to them. “We haven’t been able to determine how much damage has been done to his eyes. On the outside, they look fine but on the inside, there could be some pretty bad bruising from heat damage, shrapnel, etc. Also, we don’t know how much damage has been done to the optic nerve inside the brain from the shockwave of the blast. Those things will have to be determined when we wake him up.”

“So he could be blind?” Hen asks the question they’re all thinking.

“It’s a possibility he could be completely blind or partially blind.” At the shocked faces of everyone, the doctor is quick to add, “Or not at all.” He then continues with, “But with the burning around his eyes, I’d be very surprised if there wasn’t some kind of damage to them.”

Again, Hen asks the question everyone is thinking. “What’s his outcome look like?”

The doctor hesitates. “I don’t usually like giving my predictions to loved ones but-”

“It’s our job too,” Bobby says.

The doctor nods in agreement. “At the moment, I would say Mr. Diaz has about a fifty percent chance of survival.” Buck’s entire world flips at those words. He feels nauseous and has to swallow several times to keep the contents of his stomach down. “Mr. Diaz’s injuries are severe. The burns alone could kill him.”

“C-Can we see him?” Buck struggles to ask.

“I’ll send a nurse out when we’ve got Mr. Diaz settled in the ICU. I suggest only two visitors at a time.” The doctor gives them an encouraging smile before then walking away.

Buck collapses back into a chair, rubbing at his face with his hands. “Blind. Eddie could be blind.”

“Hey,” Hen sits down next to him, placing a hand on his back. “Let’s just focus on Eddie surviving first before we start thinking about worse case scenarios. It might not even be that bad.”

“You heard the doctor, Hen,” Buck counters, using his hand to gesture in the vague direction the doctor went in. “He’d be surprised if Eddie wasn’t blind.”

“Partially blind,” Chimney says.

“Partially or not, he can’t be-” Buck snaps and has to take a deep breath to calm himself down. “He can’t be a firefighter if he can’t see.”

“Maybe he’ll just need glasses,” Hen tries to reassure. “I wear glasses.”

“Hen’s right,” Bobby says. “Let’s not dwell on worse case scenarios.”

Isabel walks up to the chair next to Buck and sits down in it, grabbing Buck’s hand and squeezing. “And if he is, we will deal with it and help him through it.”

Buck drags another hand down his face, feeling exhausted. “Right, right.” He looks around the group of people that are here to support Eddie. “Think positive.”

*~~~*

Another half-hour and finally a nurse comes out to allow Eddie some visitors. No one questions it when both Isabel and Buck stand up to be the first two. They follow the nurse down a long hallway and through a double door that reads “Trauma Center”. She takes them along a bunch of rooms with glass sliding doors, curtains blocking their views into the rooms, and a desk watchfully in the middle of the room. They walk until they reach room ten at the end and then the nurse gives them both the rundown of what they’ll see once in there; Eddie with a ventilator in his mouth, feeding tube through his nose, and bandages loosely covering his hands, torso, and part of his face along with over his eyes. She tells them to expect a nurse to come in every half hour to clean the burns and change the bandages, that the nurses working on him specialize in burn victims. She reassures them that Eddie is getting the best care possible.

Somehow, it doesn’t make Buck feel any better.

When he does see Eddie, all bandaged and hooked up to machines, part of his face covered and not even being able to see his eyes, Buck’s stomach flips and he almost throws up. If there was anything in his stomach, maybe he would have.

Isabel walks up to Eddie and strokes her hand through his hair. She grasps onto his hand, sitting down in the chair. “Oh, my poor grandson.” She sounds like she is going to cry but then she takes a breath and it’s gone. “Look at what has happened to you.”

Buck takes the chair on the opposite side, grabbing hold of Eddie’s other hand. It feels weird, holding Eddie’s hand and not being able to feel it because of the bandages. He’s used to gloves being the barrier (when the firetruck fell on Buck’s leg and when Eddie had dragged himself back to them after being buried alive forty feet down in a well.) This… this is too rough and delicate. Buck is afraid to injure him more. Isabel has the worse hand though. Buck might be able to hold just a little tighter, to secure his brain that everything is going to be okay, that Eddie won’t die.

He doesn’t.

He keeps his grip loose.

Eddie might die.

Eddie might-

“Buck,” Isabel gets his attention, Buck’s eyes snapping from Eddie’s covered hand to her brown eyes. “You going to be okay?”

He must look awful for her to ask that. He nods, trying to smile but it comes out small and strained. “Yeah.” He feels sick and overwhelmed. Standing quickly, he drops Eddie’s hand. “I’m going to check up on Beth. I’ll send in one of the others.”

“Buck-” He doesn’t wait for her to stop him with whatever she was about to say. Instead, he retreats out of the room quickly, feeling his stomach reeling.

He bursts back out into the waiting room, making everyone jump out of their seats. “Buck? What is it? Did something happen?” Bobby is on him in a second.

He shakes his head. “No, no, I…” Buck licks his lips, swallows, and tries to will his heart to stop beating so fast. “One of you should go in. I want to check up on Beth.”

“She might not even be here anymore,” Hen says.

“No, I’m…” Another swallow. The lump in his throat is back. “No, she would have checked in to see how Eddie is doing.” They stare at him with too much sympathy. As if they feel sorry for him, as if he’s already lost his best friend (as if he’s already lost the man he’s been in love with for months now but they don’t know that and Buck is choking up again.) “Bobby, you should go in and see him.” Buck pushes past them then, practically running out of the waiting room and into a one-person men’s bathroom.

He locks the door behind him and leans up against the door, trying to take deep breaths. He’s having a panic attack, Buck knows this. It’s not his first rodeo in dealing with one but it’s not pleasant all the same. Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he gasps for air, shaking uncontrollably and sweating profusely. He tries to count to thirty, breath deep, count all the squares in the floor tiles, and eventually, eventually , he finally calms down.

With one last shuttering deep breath, Buck splashes some cold water onto his face and runs his wet hands through his hair, making it stick up in all sorts of directions. Buck looks at his reflection in the mirror. He does look awful, as he had expected. His eyes are red, cheeks all splotchy, and the tip of his nose is also red.

Is Eddie ever going to see him again? Is he ever going to see Christopher again? Not being able to actually see his son is going to destroy Eddie, Buck knows. But Isabel is right. If Eddie does survive this, then Buck is going to be there for him, every step of the way.

Wiping his face dry, Buck leaves the bathroom and heads back to the waiting room, ignoring the eyes on him from his friends. They’re smart enough to know to leave him alone at the moment and he is thankful for that. Buck asks the receptionist at the desk if Isaac Hammond is still there and she affirms his suspicions. Letting him through to the rooms again, he enters back into the hall. This time, in the trauma center, he stops at room four.

Buck knocks on the glass door before entering, pushing the curtain back and out of his way. There inside the room, is Beth leaning against the curtain and glass wall the door slides into while Chloe lies on the bed, hugging her dad close. Beth looks at him when he approaches, shutting the door close behind himself.

“Hey,” he says in greeting, going to lean on the glass as well.

She shakes her head. Her eyes are red as if she’d been crying for a long time. “I couldn’t do it,” she says. “I couldn’t tell them to turn it off.” She gestures towards Isaac and Chloe. “That’s her daddy. How do I take… how do I take her daddy away from her, Buck?” She shakes her head again, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m ready to lose my husband. I can’t… we can’t.” Buck doesn’t know what to say. It’s an impossible situation with an impossible decision. She looks at him, sad eyes glistening. “How’s Eddie? Is he going to make it? I just… if he does maybe then… maybe Isaac still has a chance.”

He wishes he had better news for her. “He’s stable right now but they’ve put him in a medically induced coma. He’s got some pretty bad burns, some broken bones, internal injuries, concussion.” He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact with her. Instead, he focuses on watching Chloe holding her dad. “It’s not good, Beth. It’s not…” he has to bite his bottom lip and wipe the back of his hand across his eyes.

Beth is looking at the floor, looking lost and defeated. “I’m sorry.” Chloe has started crying. Buck suspects it’s not the first time. “How did this happen?” Beth’s voice cuts through Buck’s musings, making him jump slightly.

He turns to her and she’s looking at him with wide eyes that are justifiably angry. “They had canisters of highly explosive material in the factory illegally. We didn’t know about it because dispatch didn’t know about it. If we had known, we would have approached the situation differently.”

Her eyes are full of barely contained rage. “Do you think the company will get sued?”

Buck shrugs. “They’ll probably get a fine for having explosive materials without a permit. Maybe the owner will get jail time, it depends. As for getting sued, that’s up to the families of the employees and firefighters who lost their lives, as well as you…” Buck swallows thickly, the next part hard to say. “And Eddie’s family.”

Beth turns back to watch her daughter who has now stopped crying again. “I hope they do.” Her hands are clenched next to her side and her teeth are grit together. “They ruined our lives.”

Buck has nothing to add to that. He’s angry and sad and frustrated and he hopes the owner of the company suffers for what he has just caused. Because Beth is right. They ruined everyone’s lives.

Including his.

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: It's slow going to Buddie content but I swear it's coming!!

Thank you for reading! ❤❤

#Buddie #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 on fox #911 #Buck #Blinded in Chains #My Fanfiction

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bestillmyslashyheart · 5 years

Text

(not) just a dream

Happy Birthday @jumbled-nonsense!!! I hope you are having the most wonderful day. Enjoy some malex/inception goodness!

They were a mess, all of them. It had been four days. Four days since Caulfield, four days since Max, since Rosa, and none of them were functioning well at all.

Alex and Michael were reeling from their last confrontation, Maria was half in denial about the alien secret she’d finally been let in on, Liz, Isobel, and Michael were in complete denial about Max’s death, Rosa was trying to come to grips with having missed ten years of her life, and the rest of them were just trying to process the fact that Rosa was alive again.

And in the midst of all of that, there was Jesse Manes.

It was a good thing Kyle had wrangled him his own room at the hospital or this would have been very suspicious. The whole group of them were gathered around his bed, his father still deep in his medically induced coma, as they tried to figure out just what the hell to do about him. Maria, Kyle, and even Alex were against anything drastic. The idea of murdering his own father just a step too far for Alex, not unless it was absolutely necessary. Isobel and Michael were on board for any plan that would permanently remove him as a threat to their survival, which Alex understood, while Liz and Rosa were just bouncing around ideas.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just make him leave,” Kyle said for the fourth time.

Isobel glared at him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I can’t make someone do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“Is there anything we can blackmail him with?” Rosa asked as she settled into a chair, her legs kicked over one of the arms. “Make him leave town and never return?”

“Tried that already,” Alex told her. “Didn’t work for very long.”

“I still say we just k-”

“No,” Maria cut Michael off with a glare. “We are not killing anyone.”

“He deserves it,” Michael countered with a shrug.

“He does,” Kyle agreed. “But we’re not going to do it.”

“Can you just keep him in a coma?” Rosa asked.

Kyle shook his head. “Not for much longer without causing permanent damage.” Everyone ignored Michael’s muttered “pity.”

“Besides,” Alex continued, “the second one of my brother’s finds out he’s here, they’re gonna want answers as to why he’s in a coma and we don’t have any.”

“Isobel,” Liz piped up. “Is there any way to manipulate him? I know you can’t make him leave if he doesn’t want to but can you like, I don’t know, find something he wants more and make him do that instead?”

Isobel pursed her lips. “Hypothetically? It’s possible, I guess. I don’t really know. But that wouldn’t stop him from coming back or hunting us from afar.”

“We need some way to make him forget about you,” Maria waved a hand at Michael and Isobel. “Make him forget about aliens and make him want to be anywhere else in the world but Roswell.”

Someone replied to her but Alex didn’t hear it. There was a pounding in his ears as Maria’s words echoed in his head. Make him forget. Make him want to be anywhere else in the world. The answer was obvious, if you had all of the pieces as Alex did. Because there was a way. A way to change what it was that Jesse Manes wanted, what he knew.

Unbidden to him, Alex’s eyes rose to meet Michael’s. The other man met his gaze evenly, the same thoughts clearly running through his head. They could do it. If they worked together, hell if Alex just gave Michael access to his father Michael could probably pull it off himself. But-

“No.” The room fell silent as Alex cut somebody off. He didn’t pay attention, his eyes never leaving Michael’s.

“Alex-” Michael took a half step forward.

“No.” A year ago, hell two months ago, Alex would’ve been on board. But that was then. That was before he knew- He shook his head. “No,” he said again. He turned sharply and fled the room before anyone could say anything.

---

Sometimes, Alex thought, the military could be incredibly short sighted. They recruited him for their Special Ops program specifically because he thought for himself and didn’t just take orders so they really couldn’t object when Alex disobeyed direct orders. He’d been a good little soldier for two years before branching out and he thought he deserved some credit for that. The civilian work opportunities were far more lucrative and imaginative than the military’s and even if he hadn’t wanted the money he’d have done it just for the variety.

That didn’t mean he appreciated being blindsided with a job. If it hadn’t been Arthur himself who called him in, Alex would’ve told them all to fuck off. But as it was Arthur, and no one told Arthur no, Alex drove out to some podunk town in western Texas to step into the middle of a job. The former point man had been involved in some unfortunate accident and they needed someone in to fill the gaps right away. Alex didn’t know much more than that, further details promised upon arrival.

As soon as he stepped into the dingy warehouse, Alex knew he should’ve pushed Arthur for more information up front. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been so blindsided by the sight of Michael Guerin crouched over a table.

“Hey, you must be the new point,” a woman greeted. “Alex, right?”

Alex nodded but didn’t look at her. Michael had looked up at him when the woman started talking and now they were just staring at each other across the warehouse. After a moment, Alex tore his gaze away and introduced himself properly to the woman, Ariadne, their architect, and William, the chemist. “And this,” Ariadne waved a hand at Michael, “is Michael, our extractor.” Michael frowned and Ariadne rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t like the term extractor, says it doesn’t fit with inception because we’re not taking anything out but it’s as good a term as any.” She raised her voice towards the end as she blatantly called him out. Michael honest to god stuck his tongue out at her before dropping the pencil he’d been playing with.

“I need coffee.” He grabbed his jacket and rounded the table. “Come on new guy, you can buy.” His hand twitched like he was going to grab Alex’s arm but he curled it into a fist as he pushed past. Alex paused only a second before following.

“What are you doing here?” Michael whirled on him when they’d walked a block. He pulled Alex into a side street and stared at him, his eyes raking over Alex’s face and body as if trying to assure himself that it was really Alex. Alex would have made a comment about it if he wasn’t doing the exact same thing.

“I’m the new point man,” Alex reminded him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m the extractor.”

“How the hell do you know anything about dreamshare?”

“Met Eames in a bar,” Michael shrugged. “He introduced me. You?”

Alex stared at him dumbly. “You’ve met Eames? In a bar?”

“Yeah, that’s probably how most people meet Eames. How do you know about dreamshare?”

“The military,” Alex answered honestly.

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you doing pulling a job like this? This isn’t military sanctioned.”

Alex shrugged one shoulder. “Military pay is crap. And the jobs get monotonous after a while. Always the same damn thing.” He paused. “Never get to do inception either.”

Michael smiled a wicked grin. “Pity. Inception’s where the fun’s at.”

All at once, Alex put together the pieces. He’d heard rumors of an extractor named Michael, an extractor who almost only performed inceptions. He’d only been in the game for a few years but he was so good at inception that he’d essentially cornered the market on it. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he heard of a team pulling off inception without Michael.

And to think it was Michael Guerin all along.

Alex kissed him without thought. Michael stilled under him for half a breath before kissing him back, his hands gripping the sides of Alex’s face and holding him close.

“I’ve missed you,” he exhaled when Alex pulled away.

“Me too,” Alex barely got the words out before they crashed together again.

Three weeks later, Alex knew two things to be true: one, Michael was under his skin in a way that Alex knew would never come out, and two, Michael was even better at inception than the rumors had promised. The second they entered a dream, Michael became almost like a god, able to twist the subject’s mind in new and inventive ways with the person never the wiser.

---

“Alex,” Michael grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty room before Alex could pull away. “Hear me out.”

“We are not performing inception on my father,” Alex spat out.

Michael clenched his teeth. “Why not? It’s the best solution and you know it.”

“N-”

“I can make him forget all of this! Forget about Project Shepherd, about aliens, about wanting to hunt us down, about wanting to hunt you down! I can make him leave Roswell and never return, no matter what.” He paused. “You know I can.”

Alex worked his jaw and stared at him, the last puzzle piece clicking into place. “You use your powers.” Michael blinked. “That’s how you’re so good. No one, not even Dom Cobb, could pull all of that off but I have no doubt you can. And it’s because you’re using Isobel’s powers,” Alex realized. “You said you didn’t have any other powers but your telekinesis,” he accused.

“I don’t,” Michael protested.

“Bullsh-”

“Not in the real world,” Michael continued. “The rules are different in a dream. In a dream, I can do anything I want. Including, yes, using Isobel’s powers of influence.” He shrugged. “It works. Way better than when Izzy tries it in the waking world.”

Alex knew that to be true. How many times had Michael pulled off the impossible when it came to inception? How had Alex missed it all of those years? That Michael was something other, that he was doing things in dreams no one else could because no one else literally could?

“We can do it, Alex,” Michael urged when Alex didn’t say anything. “I have a PASIV, I just need Somnacin.”

“I have some,” Alex replied absently, his mind still whirring.

“Then let’s do this.” Michael stepped in close. “We can get rid of your father forever. He can never hurt either one of us again.”

Alex knew it was the smart thing to do, knew that Michael could do as he promised, and yet-

---

“Wanna go for a ride?” Michael nodded his head at his truck with a wry grin. Alex barely registered the invitation, his mind trying to argue against what he already knew.

“This isn’t going to work out, Guerin.”

Michael nodded slowly before taking a step towards him. “Why not?”

“I talked to my dad earlier.” Alex wasn’t sure why he started with that.

Michael scoffed. “Who cares what he thinks?”

“He mentioned how nice it was to see me acting myself again. Commended me even on working past my childish behavior after the accident.” Alex watched Michael closely as he spoke and so he didn’t miss it when Michael’s shoulders tensed imperceptibly and he leaned backwards like he wanted to put space between them but wouldn’t let himself be that obvious about it. “It got me to thinking.” He swallowed thickly. “After the accident, I was a wreck. I was depressed and so fucking angry. I couldn’t do my rehab, I wouldn’t even let them fit me for a prosthetic.” He chuckled humorlessly. “And then one day, the same day that I swore I saw you in the hospital, everything changed. It was like someone flipped a switch. One day I couldn’t function and the next I was feeling hopeful and optimistic and I started working my ass off at PT.”

Michael took a step back.

“Tell me you weren’t there,” Alex pleaded. “Tell me I didn’t see you at the hospital. Tell me you didn’t incept me into being okay with losing my leg.”

Michael didn’t answer.

“Tell me!” He yelled. A few people nearby turned their heads but Alex ignored them.

“Alex-”

“Jesus Christ,” Alex took a step back and then another when Michael reached out towards him. “You played with my mind?”

“You weren’t getting any better!” Michael took a step and froze when Alex took a corresponding step backwards. “I just wanted to help you, Alex. You wouldn’t let me be there for the rehab or the PT and I just- I wanted to help you.”

Alex nodded slowly. “So you invaded my dreams and twisted my mind.” He laughed harshly. “What else have you helped me with? What else have you made me feel?”

Michael’s face twisted in hurt and outrage. “Nothing. I swear to you, Alex, that was a one time only thing.”

“Yeah,” Alex scoffed. “And you expect me to believe that, don’t you?” He shook his head. “How am I supposed to trust you, trust myself even, ever again?”

Michael didn’t reply and Alex walked away.

---

Alex held out for a day before Kyle urged him to decide. He didn’t know what Alex and Michael had planned but he insisted that he couldn’t keep his father under any longer. If they had a plan, they needed to do it now. And as much as Alex had trust issues with Michael and inception, he knew it was their best bet.

They met at the hospital, Michael with the PASIV and Alex with the Somnacin. “Do you even have a plan?” Alex asked. “Or are you just going to use your powers on him?”

Michael shrugged without looking at him as he got the device in order. “Little bit of both. I’ve been working on a plan to get him out of Roswell and out of your life for about five years so I’ll just tweak it a bit and leave the rest to my alien powers of persuasion.”

Alex paused in place as he prepared to insert the needle into his dad’s arm. “You’ve been planning this for five years?”

Michael still didn’t look at him. “Ever since I learned what inception was. Figured if there was ever a way to get him gone without raising any red flags, this would be it.”

“I-” Alex closed his mouth and got back to work. He didn’t even know what he could say to that. They finished their prep and entered the dream without another word.

“Alright,” Michael greeted when they opened their eyes to see Alex’s old house around them. “Shouldn’t take more than half an hour, keep an eye out for projections.” He disappeared down the hall to his dad’s office without waiting for Alex’s reply.

Alex waited a beat before fleeing out the back door. This was Michael’s dream and the details weren’t perfect but it was close enough to get Alex’s heart racing. Out on the back deck, Alex took a few deep breaths, his falling closed as he listened for anyone approaching. The world was silent.

He opened his eyes to find the shed right in front of him. He hadn’t moved but there it was. Alex glanced over his shoulder at the house and paused only a second before taking the obvious invitation and pushing the door open.

He stepped into a frustratingly familiar hospital room.

“Just do it, Michael,” he heard his own voice ask. Alex looked over at the bed to see Michael sitting next to him. “I need to be okay with all of this and I’m not so I need you to do it.”

“Alex, I’m not going to incept you! You’ve heard the stories, you know what happened to Mallorie Cobb. I won’t do that.”

“It’s not the same thing. I’m not asking you to give me a reason to live or anything like that, I just need to be ok with losing my damn leg.” Alex watched as Michael shook his head and stood up. He watched as he grabbed Michael’s arm and pulled him back down. “I need this Michael. I need you.”

“Is this why you called me here? Not because you wanted me to be here for you but to fuck with your mind?”

Alex watched the cold mask fall over his own face. “I do need you to be here for me. And this is how.”

“Alex, I can’t. Please don’t ask me to do this.”

The door behind him burst open just as the him on the bed replied. “I don’t remember this,” Alex told Michael, his eyes never leaving the memory versions of them.

Michael sighed heavily. “You didn’t want to. You figured it would be easier to buy the inception if you didn’t remember asking for it.”

Alex turned to face him slowly. Part of him argued that he had no reason to believe Michael, that this could all be a false memory but Alex knew it wasn’t. He didn’t remember it but he knew himself, he knew this is exactly something he would’ve done. “Michael, I-”

He opened his eyes to a different hospital room.

“It’s done,” Michael told him as he pulled the needle out of his own arm and leaned over Jesse to remove his. “You can tell Kyle to remove the sedation or whatever. He should be leaving Roswell as soon as he wakes up.”

“Michael,” Alex tried again as he stood up. “I’m sorry.”

Michael paused. “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not. I blamed you for doing something I asked of you.”

“It’s not like you remembered it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still owe you an apology.”

“Fine. Apology accepted or whatever.” He finished putting away the PASIV.

Michael tried to brush past him to the door but Alex stepped neatly into his path. “Thank you. For helping me.” Alex paused. “And for today.”

Michael nodded. “You really don’t have to thank me for today, it was purely selfish I assure you.” It wasn’t and they both knew it but Alex let it go. “And as for- I just wish you’d let me actually help you.”

“All clear in here?” Kyle opened the door behind them just as Alex opened his mouth to reply. He paused and took in the mood, his eyes flitting between the two of them where they stood awfully close to one another. “Everything okay?”

“All good,” Michael promised with a fake smile. “Go ahead and wake the bastard up, he won’t be a problem anymore.” He put his hand on Alex’s hip to squeeze past him without touching Kyle and was out the door before either of them could say anything. He didn’t turn around when Alex called his name.

#happy birthday maura!!#malex fic #rnm #my fic #this got longer than i intended lol

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