#sorry it’s a real sore point for me i cried in front of my whole family after that game LMAO

[heresthestorymorningglory]

The Only Way Out Is Through

Summary: Safe houses can sometimes feel a little cramped.

A/N: Listen y'all this NSFW 18+ should be par for the course at this point. So like….just don’t okay? This one in particular isn't 18+ but the Nurse series as a whole certainly is.

As always, the inspo is thanks to the Goosecord and my beautiful partner in crime @ken-dom who continues to inspire the Gosling drabbles daily.

Bless you my new found chosen sister for putting up with my antics! (Yes I copy pasted, yes it’s still valid don’t come for me)

This is a continuation of what I’ve affectionately titled the Nurse Series, read previous parts  here.

Like I said last time, this won’t be the last you see of Six

Enjoy my loves! <3

It had been a solid week and Six hadn’t left your side once. You had called the hospital, from a burner, and told them you were fine but would be out of commission for awhile and then Six promptly threw the phone in the lake. 

That had been six days ago; you sighed in a futile attempt at getting Six to understand your side. 

“I am not going to run from Lloyd Hansen for the rest of my natural life, Court, I’m just not” He stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room where you sat on the couch. It’s been a week, Lloyd has the attention span of a nat” 

“No” 

You sighed more irritated than ever, convinced that ‘No’ was the only word he knew in the English language. 

“Court please, I know you want to keep me safe, I do, but I have to work I have friends, and a house and…plants” 

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, but you held your ground 

“Plants?” he repeated “You’re worried about your plants?” 

“I…no” you sighed, rubbing your hands over your face, still gently, your nose was healing but still sore. You growled in frustration dropping your hands in your lap “You missed everything else I said, why can’t I make you HEAR me?!” 

He stood up to his full height dropping his arms to his sides “Do you know where Lloyd went?” he asked, not waiting for a response before he continued “Do you have his head on a pike somewhere and I missed it??” 

You sighed as he continued still, the volume of his voice increasing with each rhetorical question he asked. 

“No!” He nodded “You don’t and as long as that’s true, as long as he is breathing air you are in danger!” 

You had gotten to your feet “And whose fault is that?!” you snapped back immediately regretting the words. You let out a breath, you had never seen him look so small “Court”

He didn’t move, just stood there in front of you, looking unbelievably hurt; not that you could blame him. 

“I thought he had killed you,” his voice had dropped back down to a near whisper “I thought you were dead” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered “I-I didn’t..” You closed your eyes as your nose throbbed painfully, you had a headache from yelling. 

“I told you what this was,” he said, ignoring your apology “I told you, this was dangerous, I told you”

“And I told you, I don’t care” 

“And look what happened to you!” His voice boomed around the room; he turned on his heel, his fist burying into the drywall next to the kitchen door, making you jump, the whole room shaking with the impact. 

“Court” you breathed taking half a step before he shook his head with his back still to you. 

“Don’t call me that” 

Your shoulders dropped as he stalked through the kitchen and out the back door, slamming it shut behind him as he went. You sank back on to the couch heels of your hands pressing into your eye sockets trying to relieve your headache before you just covered your face and cried. 

It did nothing for your headache or your throbbing nose but you didn’t know what else to do. 

He was mad, he was hurt, and he had every right to be; he had risked his life to save yours…again. This time though, you weren’t just some pretty nurse caught in the line of fire. Lloyd had made this real personal. 

You wiped your eyes with a sigh and pulled yourself up off the couch making your way through the kitchen grabbing a peace offering off the kitchen table as you went.

You pushed the back door open gently, the squeaky hinge giving you away. Six was sitting on the small step staring at his shoes as you sat next to him, the soft light from the kitchen window illuminating his face. 

You pressed your lips together before you turned to look at him, your head tilted slightly before offering him the half finished bag of skittles. 

He glanced at the bag before returning his stare to his shoes. 

“If we’re gonna go for round two, you’re going to need sustenance” you said softly. 

He seemed to consider this before holding out the hand he’d had resting on his arm

You dumped a few in his hand which he ate without saying anything and you sighed. 

“You’re not gonna stay mad at me forever are you?” You asked leaning against his shoulder, fingers playing lazily with the hem on the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

Still. Nothing. 

“Babe, come on,” you sighed, “You’ve got no one else in this house, so you might as well talk to me” 

Crickets. 

You huffed trying to keep your emotions in check “Fine, you won’t talk, you can listen. You don’t think I understand how dangerous this is? How scary?” you asked, looking at his profile “Well, I do; but I need you to understand, I know that feeling. I feel it every time you leave, the gut wrenching terror that this might be the last time I see you…ever. You fly down those front steps like Superman to go save the world and I just have to sit here, and wait, and hope that you come back to me in one piece, and that someone like Lloyd didn’t catch you off guard and you’re bleeding out somewhere alone.” 

He had turned to look at you then. 

“I didn’t plan for this to happen anymore than you did” you continued as his blue eyes searched your face. 

“No one plans to get kidnapped” he muttered 

“I’m not talking about Lloyd” you shook your head “I’m talking about you, about us; but it did and whether you like it or not, I’m not going anywhere, but I told you, I’m not going to spend the rest of my life being afraid of Lloyd Hansen, or I might as well have died in that warehouse” 

“Don’t” he shook his head 

“I didn’t mean what I said, and I’m sorry I did” you apologized “But you have to understand, that I was as scared as you were, I still am; the fact that Lloyd is still walking around free somewhere terrifies me, but I don’t blame you for that” 

He turned to look at you fully but didn’t speak 

“I don’t,” you repeated “But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in a safehouse, Court, I’m going to go home”

“Will you move?” he asked, taking the bag of skittles still in your hand

You shook your head “No, that’s my home; I know you’re used to the nomad life, but I’m not” 

“It’s not safe” he sighed 

“And it hasn’t been, since that first night when i was a first year nursing student and you crawled through my patio door and passed out in my kitchen” 

He scoffed “I didn’t crawl” 

“You did,” you nodded “Broken ankle and all, and that was twenty years ago; we just got lucky, and that luck has finally run out, but I’m not letting it scare me, and you never have either, why is this any different?” 

You sat watching him, waiting for an answer 

“Because it’s you” he whispered brushing your hair back off your face as he cupped your cheek “And…fucklng Lloyd”

“And if Loyd has even half a brain cell, he’s in Siberia by now” 

“Will you get rid of the stupid goose on the porch?” 

You laughed shaking your head “No; Lloyd did not use my spare key to break into my house.”

He sighed 

“Gary stays” 

“Gary,” he repeated “You named it?” 

“I’m not leaving, I’m not getting rid of anything” you said, changing the subject 

“You’re impossible” he huffed rubbing a hand over his face 

“I’m not”

He stared at you blankly “Fucking stubborn” 

You just shrugged 

“WIll you at least let me teach you how to defend yourself then?” 

“Yes” you nodded 

“And keep a gun with you when I’m not around?” 

“You’re going to let me be by myself?” you asked with a raised eyebrow

“No,” he shook his head 

You laughed a little, but wholeheartedly believed him “Babe, come on, I have to work and no hospitals is your number one rule, remember?”

“I can make an exception as long as that bastard is breathing air”

“Now that’s not safe and you know it”

“I hate the thought of leaving you by yourself” he sighed

“I won’t be alone, the hospital is full of people, and security” 

He snorted at the idea of hospital security “You know what I mean” 

“Then you better be a good teacher” 

You used his thigh for support, pushing yourself up to your feet “Now, can we go to bed, my nose is giving me a headache” 

He nodded pulling himself up, following you into the house, a protective hand on your hip. 

“He better not show his face ever again,” he said softly steering you toward the small bedroom “He’ll learn what real torture feels like” 

“You’re sexy when you’re protective” you smiled leaning back into his shoulder looking up at him. 

He kissed your forehead as you stood with your arms raised as high as you could manage as he lifted your shirt over your head and you kicked your jeans off into the corner of the room before climbing between the sheets. 

“I’m going to make the rounds” he bent to give you a kiss before turning towards the door.

“Isn’t the whole point of a safehouse to be, y’know, safe?” 

He just winked before leaving the room “I won’t be long” 

“Tomorrow” you called after him “I want to sleep in our bed” 

You were met with silence, not surprisingly, but you could picture the look on his face, followed by a headshake; you were almost certain. 

[wizkiddx]

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

[songmingisthighs]

[9.55] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ good thing you're smart, if not Wooyoung wouldn't have a whole attitude change

⇁ tw : violence, torture, kindapping, mafia life

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

You don't remember how long it has been since they captured you. Being stuck in a basement would do that apparently.

Whoever was behind your capture had been torturing you beyond your own imagination. They had starved you, hit you, kicked you, attempted to drown you, tied you in an uncomfortable position every night, and sent in someone to make sure you don't get an ounce of sleep.

All that just to get information on Wooyoung.

Currently, you're being tied to a chair, being once again interrogated for informations you had no clue about, "things would be much easier if you'd just give us what we want," the buff man in front of you said, he held a knife to your cheek but at this point you couldn't even flinch, "where is Jung Wooyoung's headquarters?"

Your cold outfit was clinging onto you like second skin, it's uncomfortable and it's dirty, the cold had definitely impacted your health.

Recently all you've been able to feel is just the headache and the burn from inside your body. Not even the abuse given to you was able to inflict you pain.

Everything's just numb.

You look up at the man, almost with a challenging look as you press your face daringly to the blade, "I. Don't. Know." you spat each word like venom.

The man laughed, pretty amused at how daring you are being, "you're his wife, there is no way you wouldn't have known," you rolled your eyes at him, bitter that he used the word 'wife' because you know fully well that Wooyoung would never treat you as such, "then I must've not been his wife now, am I?" You retorted back at him, slightly shocking him because this is the first time within the (apparently) 7 days you've been captured that you had said something else other than 'I don't know' or 'fuck you'.

Everyone was startled at the revelation, they probably hadn't concidered that you might not be Wooyoung's wife. No one really know about Wooyoung's personal life, it seems.

Seeing their hesitance, you take this as your chance of escaping.

The buff man grab your hair harshly, his eyes narrowing at you in suspicion, "don't lie to me, whore, if you're not his wife, then why'd you have a wedding ring on?" "Stole it from my mistress before I ran away, needed the money," you lied easily, surprising yourself.

"And why are you wearing it?" He asked again, "to make it less inconspicuous, people need to believe that this belongs to me or else they'll alert the cops that I'm a thief,"

He seemed to be having an inner turmoil on whether or not he should believe you.

With how you've been acting and the lack of evidence that you are Wooyoung's wife, you could really have been the wrong target.

"That means Handong lied to us," he said as he push your head away, talking to one of the men next to him, "bring him in and get this bitch out," he said simply before turning back to leave.

But before he walked out of the room, he looked back once more at you with a bitter smirk, "make sure to... deal... with her first, insurance for your silence,"

When the doors closed, 5 men approach your figure, still tied on the chair.

One of them crouch down in front of you, he brush your hair out of your face with a sad smile, "I'm sorry that we have to do this, pretty girl," confused at what he said, you just stared at him. But then he suddenly slap you so hard that you fell down along with the chair you're tied to.

And thus began one of the longest night of your life.

Meanwhile Wooyoung was getting antsy. His men couldn't find you anywhere and there isn't a second when he didn't regret turning his abundance of cctv off

He spent his days either in meetings or trying to track your whereabouts. San had to step in and actually force him to eat, going as far as cuffing him to his chair and spoon-fed him, even throwing a cheesy "would (Y/N) be happy to see you in this state?" At him to which he replied, "considering how I treat her, I wouldn't be surprised if she is,"

So far, neither yours nor his parents were aware of your disappearance. His dad only asked about you once to ensure he still has leverage, which of course Wooyoung lied, he's already stressed over your disappearance the last thing he need is for his dad to bit his head off.

Each night he spent sleeping in his bedroom, moping to the fact that he genuinely misses and worried about you. He regret taking you for granted, taking your presence for granted. Now, he could only imagine your sleeping form next to him using the memories of when he actually slept in bed with you. He used to be able to feel your warmth next to him, now it's just cold and he dislike it.

Tonight was no different. Before he got into bed, he went to the walk-in closet and look at all the dresses he had brought you to events that you went to (re : events he was forced brought you because his parents would be there). He remembered every how you looked in every single one of them.

It's pathetic of him, to be pining over the woman he claimed to have no care about.

Just as he turned the walk-in closet's lights off, there were commotions from downstairs, then a huge bang like his front doors had been barged open.

Diving into his instincts, Wooyoung grabbed the nearest gun he had hid all around the room and ran out, thinking that it was a raid by his rivals.

But when he looked down from the second floor to the living room, his heart wrenched and he froze.

San had you in his arms, you looked sickly pale with bruises all over your exposed arms and legs, clothes had chunks of them torn, and you weren't moving. One would assume that you're dead.

Wooyoung dropped his gun and ran to his friend who had just put you on the couch.

The sight of you looking so broken panicked him. He wanted to hold you and be glad that you're home, but he doesn't wanna hurt you. He wanted to tell you how sorry he is and that he'll make up to you but he's not sure whether or not you're still alive.

He snapped his head towards his staff, "call the doctor! Call Kang Yeosang in!" He barked to which his staffs immediately obeyed, scrambling to do as he ordered.

"God, baby, who did this to you?" He muttered to himself, reaching forward to brush your hair out of your face.

You stirred a bit when you heard his voice ans managed to open your eyes despite the splitting headache and the soreness all over your body.

When your eyes met his, you smiled, "hey, what are you doing in my dreams?" You croaked out, throat obviously sore and beyond parched from having been denied fluids for so long. It was your turn to brush his bangs from his eyes, something you've always wanted to do but know never could considering his dislike that turned out to be hatred towards you.

You suddenly frown at him, making his gaze on you softer, "I'm sorry," you muttered, not able to speak louder. At that, he tilted his head, "for what?" "Not being able to stay gone, I had to had the will to live, I should've let them kill me," you said before you slip into unconsciousness, rendering Wooyoung speechless at your words.

Before he was able to retaliate, San had swoop you back into his arms to take you to an empty room so Yeosang could come in and treat you.

"No," Wooyoung called, stopping San in his tracks, "bring her to my- our room, she should feel comfortable," to which San just nodded and obey, knowing how important it is to have you next to him as much as him next to you.

Yeosang came in not long after and spent 3 hours cleaning and stitching your wounds, checking for possible internal injuries, all the while making sure he's handling you with the utmost care as Wooyoung had been glaring daggers at him. Whether it serve to be a warning to not harm you or a sign of jealousy as Yeosang had a perfectly valid reason to cut your shirt and shorts off for handling.

"I can't make a clear diagnosis without checking for internal injuries, we have to take her to the hospital," Yeosang said. But Wooyoung just snap at him, "then freaking bring the machines here! She's not leaving this mansion and she's not leaving my side!"

Both men just stared at each other for a few minutes, Yeosang holding onto his ground on wanting simplicity, and Wooyoung being afraid of losing you from his sight again.

Knowing how stubborn his friend can be, Yeosang was first to crack, sighing and nodding at Wooyoung, "I'll see what I can do," he said simply before going out to talk to San about possibly transporting some of his machines.

The rest of the night, Wooyoung took care of you. He had put you in one of his large, white button up because it's the easiest to put on you. He stayed by your side in a chair, afraid that he might hurt you (than he already necessary does with his words) if he were to slip in bed with you.

As he watch you, his hands moved to held yours in his. His thumbs were rubbing the back of your hand when it suddenly caught on something.

Looking down, he noticed that it's your wedding ring, matching his own which he's wearing.

It brought a smile to his face seeing you're still holding onto it so dearly. You could've left it for him to find and throw away the day you left, but you had decided to take it with you.

Could it be that despite everything he's done to you, you don't want to completely erase him from your mind?

And that's what made Wooyoung broke down and cried.

He didn't deserve you, not one bit. But despite that, he knows that he's the only one capable enough of taking care of you, to provide for whatever it is that you need.

So at that moment, with you back in hia arms, he decided to step up and assume his responsibilities and treat you as how you deserve to be treated.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙧𝙮 || niki lauda x reader x james hunt

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : flirting with james shouldn’t have been a problem, because you and niki weren’t even that serious anyways, right?  well, it turns out you are serious, but it also turns out not to be quite the problem you expected.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 2.8k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 : smut (threesome, dubcon (slight), oral f and m receiving, dp/anal, spitroasting, slight degradation/dumbification, overstimulation, spanking), touch of angst, possessiveness, niki being mean (guys, it’s niki), pwp

based on a request by @creme-bruhlee which was based on a thing I told him I was working on which I wasn’t actually working on yet but then I casually wrote in one sitting when I was supposed to be doing my sleepover gah

                       You certainly didn’t like James Hunt.  After all, you were all but contractually obligated to hate him in solidarity with your boyfriend and his biggest rival, Niki.

But you did appreciate James— for his undeniable talent as a driver, and for what he brought out in your boyfriend.  Not just on the track, but at times like this as well.

It started rather innocently, at least as innocent as any press event could be.  Niki wore you proudly on his arm, for most of the interviews: you knew that a lot of this for him was simply a publicity ploy to improve his image, but it honestly didn’t bother you that much since it was partially for publicity on your part as well (you had your own career to advance, after all).

What bothered him, though, was when James started to suddenly chat you up, undeniably flirty but just to the level that it could almost be construed as polite.

He waited until Niki was pulled away for an interview and stood just behind the camera, asking you a million questions and finding dumb excuses to touch you: first it was something in your hair, then admiring your bracelet (Niki gave it to me, you told him; Twice now he’s shown that he has fine taste, James winked in reply) until he finally stepped closer and rested his hand on your lower back.

“Let me show you what a real driver can do, sweetheart,” he offered lowly, leaning in so close that his lips brushed against your temple, and you caught Niki leaving the interview suddenly in the corner of your eye.

“And let me show you what happens when you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” Niki interrupted, shoving James back off of you before hitting him square in the jaw.  You gasped, as did the many reporters and drivers watching, but soon Niki’s attention was turned back to you, fire in his glare.

“Hey, I was just trying to be personable—” James defended as he held his face in his hand, but Niki ignored him, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you behind him out of the press tent.

“Looks like the infamous Hunt/Lauda rivalry has come to a bit of a head, possibly over Lauda’s girlfriend—” you heard one of the reporters explain to a camera, but soon the buzz faded to silence as Niki took you further away.

“Where are we going, Niki?” you asked nervously, trailing behind him as best you could.

“Somewhere private where you can learn your lesson,” Niki answered, making you swallow dryly.  He wasn’t the sort of person you wanted to be in trouble with.

He found an empty garage and all but tossed you inside, pinning you to the wall at each shoulder.  

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, letting Hunt put his hands on you like that?” he hissed.

“I didn’t let him, he just did it!” you defended.

“Then you tell him to stop!” Niki explained, exasperated.  “Instead of standing right there, right in front of my face and doing nothing!  You can’t imagine how it feels to see another man put his hands on you— and that man...”

You hadn’t realized he cared about that sort of thing; you hadn’t realized he cared about you that much.  “I’m sorry, Niki, it won’t happen again.”

“You’re right about that,” he hissed, “it won’t happen again because you’re going to bend over that toolbox and learn not to test me."

You opened your mouth to protest and yet you were already doing it, feeling your cheeks burn as he pulled your dress up and rubbed his calloused hands over your ass and thighs.

A yelp jumped from your mouth when he hit you, but your thighs clenched together, too. "Now would be a good time to start apologizing," he suggested coldly.

"Niki, baby, I'm so so sorr— ah!" you whined again when he hit you even harder, the sound of his skin on yours echoing around the garage.

"Do you want to flirt with him? Would you rather be his flavor of the week?" Niki interrogated.

"No! Just want you, I swear," you promised, biting your lip to hold back a moan when he hit you twice in a row.

"You'll have me," he promised. "You need to remember who you belong to."

If you weren't so desperate you would've probably protested to that language, but your panties were soaked from almost nothing at all and you were in no position to debate with him.

The sound of his uniform unzipping was like music to your ears, and you purred a little when he pulled your panties down your thighs slowly. "Are you enjoying this?" he realized. "It's supposed to be a punishment and still you're soaking wet. Is that for him or me?"

"You, Niki, fuck me, please," you whined, the sound shifting into a gasp as he pushed inside you roughly, a little too deep and a little too fast for how little you'd been prepared. It was usually some level of struggle to take him but this was a very new circumstance: now he was fucking you with a point to make, with a message to send. And you got that message loud and clear as he mercilessly pounded into you, nearly knocking over the toolkit you were bent onto. "Fffuck," you stammered, holding onto the aluminum for dear life while he grunted behind you.

"You can moan louder than that, no need to suppress yourself," he encouraged.

"They could hear us, they're not too far away—"

He spanked you again and you cried out, realizing he likely wanted them to hear you; he wanted those reporters to make sure everyone knew that you were his. "Tell them who's fucking you so good, hm? Tell them who you belong to."

"Niki," you sobbed, "yours, baby, I'm yours..."

Just then, the door to the garage swung open and you gasped at the sight of James Hunt. You tried to kick Niki away and cover yourself but he didn't budge— he didn't even stop fucking you, much to your humiliation.

"I'm a little busy here, James," Niki explained with a smug grin.

"I can tell— listen, if you're gonna make us all hear this, could you at least do it right?" James frowned. "Your girl has many talents but acting is not one of them."

"Are you saying this is a performance?" Niki realized.

"You'd be able to tell the difference if you'd ever heard a woman actually finish but with you, that's impossible," James laughed. "Smart move going from behind, though, spare her from having to look at—" James motioned to his face broadly— "this whole situation you have going on."

"If you think you can do better, Hunt, I'd love to see you try."

You started about a thousand questions but didn't finish any of them, and James grinned as he shut the door behind himself. "I told you I'd show you what a real driver can do, didn't I?" he addressed you, crossing the room to where Niki had you pinned down.

Before you could say anything (not that you knew what to say), James grabbed your hair and kissed you, not quite rough yet but completely dominating as his tongue slid over yours and tickled the roof of your mouth.

"You wouldn't be doing that if you knew where her mouth had been, James," Niki chuckled.

"That sort of shit doesn't bother me, Lauda," James explained once he'd broken his lips away from yours. "It's called confidence in my masculinity, look it up sometime. I know exactly what's been in her cunt, too, and I'm still gonna show her how a real man eats pussy."

You got a little nervous at the sound of that, but wetter as well.

Niki circled to face you, clutching your jaw and examining your expression carefully as James hungrily licked and sucked at your cunt.

"If you're going to eat her cunt then let me fill it with my come first, give you a little taste of victory, eh?" Niki joked, but James pushed him away and you whined slightly when your boyfriend's cock slipped out of you... but it was only a moment before James knelt behind you, swiping his tongue over your swollen bud and drenched opening as you purred.

"I hope your jaw isn't too sore, Hunt," Niki sneered.

"It's not," James assured with saccharine faux-sweetness before diving back in to taste you further.

James stopped to lean his head out to the side. "Think she likes the sound of that, Niki— she clenched down on my tongue real tight."

"If you come for him, you won't like what I'll do to you," Niki warned you harshly. "You won't sit right for a week, at least."

"Oh, I see," Niki smirked. "You want me to tear up that little ass... should've known, you have that look about you: the kind of girl who acts innocent in public but turns into a whore when the lights go out."

Yet again James caught you reacting to what Niki said, though this time he didn't need to announce it since your own moan gave you away.

"Go ahead and fuck her then, Hunt, and get her ass ready for me," Niki instructed. You were surprised when James obeyed, standing up and unzipping his uniform as well to start rubbing his cock over your dripping pussy.

"You want it, sweetheart?" James taunted. "Ask very nicely."

"Fuck me, James, please," you sighed, and he was much more gentle than Niki had been as he filled you, letting you savor every inch of his length.

"Sounds so lovely when you say my name like that, do it again," James demanded, slowly beginning to rock into you.

"James," you breathed, gasping when Niki pushed his cock against your lips; you could taste yourself on him and it turned you on even more.

"I think we can find a better use for your mouth than boosting James' ego, yes?" Niki groaned as he started to fuck your mouth, holding your head steady. "Certainly he doesn't need any more of that."

You moaned loudly around Niki's cock when James circled his finger around your tighter rim. The first knuckle pushed in and you felt your knees wobble. Then back out again, then to the second knuckle-- each twist of his finger he went a little deeper, he even went so far as to spit on your hole which made you choke from more than just Niki's cock down your throat.

"Your girl's gotta sweet little cunt, Niki," James groaned as he fucked you faster. "You should let your pit crew use her, too, give 'em a morale boost."

"Maybe I will if she doesn't behave for us today," Niki considered, weaving his fingers into your hair to start fucking your face more roughly.

Your legs threatened to give out with the way James was fucking you; your eyes rolled back in your head with a suppressed moan as Niki kept using your mouth.

Around the same time Niki pulled his cock out to rub it over your face, James pulled out to slap his swollen head on your clit.

Another finger pushed into your ass and you made a sound that you hardly recognized as your own. "If I had known you liked it up the ass so much, you would've never taken it anywhere else," Niki promised with a growl.

Once James decided both your holes were ready, they seemed to have no trouble at all manhandling you into the position they needed— surely it was the first time you'd ever seen them work together— and soon you found yourself balanced on James' lap while Niki found his place behind you.

"Do you think you can take us both, sweetheart?" James taunted as you felt both of them teasing your holes.

"Well, I've never been fucked by two massive dicks before," you admitted, "and you have big cocks, so..."

"I'll miss that wit of yours when you become a mindless, drooling fuckdoll in the next two minutes," Niki stated plainly.

It only took ten seconds.

Your hands weakly held onto James' shoulders as you bounced on top of him, moaning lowly as you were filled beyond what you thought possible. Niki had to hold your waist to help guide you, occasionally thrusting forward to fill your ass with every inch of him.

"Ah, fuck," you moaned, reaching beside you to grab Niki's forearm in an attempt to stabilize yourself.

James tore your dress down the front and latched onto your tits, sucking hard and even letting his teeth graze one nipple while Niki used his free hand to pinch the other.

Even when your eyes fell shut and your brain was totally empty, you could tell them apart just by touch. It was Niki sucking a mark on the side of your neck, but James grabbing a rough handful of your ass. It was Niki that reached around to rub your clit, but James that nibbled and sucked on your earlobe while whispering things so dirty that your face burned hot.

"We can both feel it when you come, do it again," Niki demanded just before your third hit you.

"Give us a good squeeze, sweetheart, wanna feel that cunt milk me," James agreed.

"I-I'm coming," you gasped as your head fell back, both of them laughing and cooing proudly.

"There she goes."

"Good fucking girl."

"Gets tighter every time."

You only regained your ability to tell who said what when you felt Niki's lips against your ear, his voice soothing your aching, quivering body. "You want to be full of come, don't you?" he presumed, and you nodded sleepily. "We'll fill you as deep as we can, and you need to keep it in you for the rest of the day."

"Yes, Niki," you agreed softly.

They picked up their pace and you felt like a ragdoll as they thrust into your limp body, chasing their highs as recklessly as always until you lost your voice from moaning so loud.

James finished first, though you imagined this was one race he would’ve preferred not to win.  He bit down on your shoulder as he filled you, hard enough to leave a mark which you knew would anger Niki when he realized it.

"Tell me who you belong to," Niki pleaded one last time, coming inside you the moment you answered "you, Niki."

And then it was just the three of you, standing there in a sweaty jumble of limbs, catching your breath and trying to process what had just occurred.

“Do you think we can get out of here without too many reporters seeing?” Niki asked James.

“I’m going to worry about getting out of the girl first, then the building,” James decided, and the two of them helped lift you onto your numb legs, your body slow to recover from the onslaught of sensations that had been forced on you this long.  If anything was more jarring than being filled by both of them, it was both of them pulling out at once.  Come leaked out of you from more places than you cared to admit, and since James had torn your dress, Niki gave you his uniform to wear which left him in only the undershirt and boxers he wore beneath.

“I can’t believe I’m getting your spunk on my uniform right now, Hunt,” Niki grimaced, making James laugh as he zipped himself back up.  Funny enough, he looked the most normal after all this of the three of you; maybe because he always had that ‘just had some freaky sex’ look about him.  You and Niki were a bit newer to the game, so you didn’t wear it as well, but honestly you thought he looked pretty cute with his curls all messed up from when you’d run your fingers through them.

“Well,” James announced with a puffed chest and proud smile, “next time you two are having a lover’s spat, give me a call and I’ll lend a hand or cock as needed.  But I think I’ll take my leave now.”

What do you say after something like that?  Apparently the answer is nothing, considering you just nodded slightly and Niki gave him an awkward wave as he disappeared out the door with the nonchalance as his arrival.

Plunged into silence, you glanced over at Niki who was already staring at you.  “So?” he asked.  “Was he better?”

“No,” you answered right away.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Relief washed over you when he pulled you into an embrace and kissed your forehead; you couldn’t think of the last time he was so affectionate.  “Let’s get back to the track and find you a new dress, hm?” he suggested.  “One that James Hunt absolutely won’t get his hands on.”

[pudimsuki]

Takamki Keigo + beach+ NSFW plz maybe the reader has brought a new swim suit and it’s red like his wings ( yes the reader definitely did it to get his attention lol) and hawks sees them in it and goes a bit crazy

Crimson. Like his wings | Hawks x reader

Hi <3 I loved this request, sorry for taking so long!

Warnings: NSFW (18+ content), fem reader, swearing.

It was rare for the two of you to have some free time together. Like, REALLY rare. So when your winged hero boyfriend finally got a day off, you decided that you’re gonna enjoy the hell out of it.

You guys rented a beach house for the weekend ー In a deserted area for obvious reasons. I mean, you definitely didn't want a range of your pro-hero boyfriend fans asking for autographs and photos in the middle of his rest day, and besides, Hawks loved having privacy with you.

You took one last turn in front of the mirror, admiring your own image. You had bought that bikini especially for him, crimson red like his beautiful wings.

Choosing to remain barefoot, you walked through the glass doors and down the few steps that led directly to the shore. The warm sand tickled your feet and you lifted your arm above your face until you got used to the sunlight in your eyes.

Keigo was lying on his back on a towel, leaning his weight on his elbows as he watched the waves come and go, dark glasses on. Small droplets of water glistened on his bare torso, indicating that he had already ventured into that sea of salt water. His feathers stretched magnificently over the sand so that the sun touched every plumage.

You sighed at the view.

"I know I'm hot, babe. No need to stare."

You rolled your eyes, muttering an "asshole" under your breath. Keigo chuckled deliciously, turning his head to finally face you, only to be caught off guard by the image of you. The red color of your bathing suit managed to match exactly the color of his wings, which definitely didn't go unnoticed by him; your bare skin glowing extremely invitingly, the shape of the fabric leaving little to the imagination.

Keigo let out a long whistle, taking off his glasses. "Oh my, what do we have here?"

"I know I'm hot, babe. No need to stare." You mimic, throwing your hair over your shoulder.

That went straight between his legs.

“Little tease.” He purrs, licking his lips. "Come here, pretty thing"

You walk slowly towards him, making sure to arch your back as you spread your towel on the sand.

"If I knew my cute little bird could be hotter than it already was, I would have arranged this weekend much sooner."

“Um, maybe I should buy more bikinis.”

“Are you always such a tease?”

“Just for you, Kei.” You winked at him before lying face down on the towel and closing your eyes, feeling the sun kissing your back.

Keigo felt his cock twitch in his bathing shorts. Shit, he was already horny.

He rolled onto his stomach until he reached you. You felt him approaching, a smile already painting your lips, but you remained still.

“Hum…” Keigo hummed, tracing the curve of your back with the palm of his hand from the base of your neck to the swell of your ass, which he squeezed between his fingers. “Just for me, yeah?”

“Uh-huh”

With your eyes still closed, you felt your boyfriend's soft lips ghosting over your skin, from bottom to top, until they reached the junction of your shoulder and neck, where they began a trail of soft kisses up to your earlobe.

He swung one of his legs over you until his body was above yours, his huge wings forming a shadow on the ground. "I would invite you for a swim, but I don't think we're going to get past the sand today."

Just to prove his point, he pressed his body against yours, making you gasp as you felt the bulge pressed against the shell of your ass.

“Kei…” you moaned, lifting up a little to rub against him. Keigo growled at the friction, bucking his hips back on you, both of you still dressed.

“'m gonna fuck this tight hole of yours, baby." He promised, hot breath against your neck.

"Do it, Kei.” You breathe, already feeling your panties getting wet. “I missed you so much.”

His wings rustled above you. He pulled back a little, making you whimper at the loss of contact, but he just turned you around so you could face him. You sighed at the predatory look he gave you and opened your legs for him.

“I’m all yours”, you purred.

That was enough to draw a growl from his throat, and before you could blink, the bottom of your bikini was ripped to shreds, leaving your intimacy completely bare and at his mercy. “Keigo! It was new!” You complained. “I couldn't use it for ten minutes!”

“I’ll buy you as many as you want. And besides”, he bent closer to your mouth. “It’s your fault for being so damn hot.”

Then he kissed you. Slowly, sensually. You held the back of his head, bringing him closer as your tongues engaged in a delicious rhythm.

“So wet for me, baby bird” He praised when you pulled away, pressing two fingers between your folds. You whined, lifting your hips for more. "But still so impatient.” The chuckle that follows was from pure amusement. “I should teach you how to be more patient, love. What do you say?” He teased, swirling his fingers excruciatingly slowly over your clit.

"No" you cried, moving your hips. "I want you now, Kei. Please, want you now.”

"Want my cock, baby? Want me to fuck you real good?”

“Yes, yes, please.” You babble, his fingers still working on your bundle of nerves.

“As you wish, ma'am.”

In less than two seconds, he'd lowered his bathing shorts, his erect member popping out immediately.

That sight was almost divine, the sun streaming through his wings as he positioned himself between your legs. You ran your fingers over his defined abdomen, feeling the remnants of the salt water on his skin. Keigo smiled, pushing into you slowly. You sighed in bliss at the stretching sensation, wrapping your legs around his waist until he was fully inside, your faces mere inches from each other, his hair tickling you.

"Love you," you whispered into his mouth.

Keigo wrapped his arms around your body and began to move at a pleasant, almost lazy pace. It was intimate and extremely sensual. You closed your eyes, none of you bothering to hold back your moans as only the roar of the waves covered your sounds.

"Love you, my dove," he replies, kissing your neck as he increases the speed of his thrusts. He lifts the top of your already-lost bikini, exposing your soft globes to his gaze. “So pretty...” Then you cried his name, feeling his hot tongue circling your nipple before sucking hard.

He continued his ministrations, and you felt the towel slipping out of place, causing your limbs to touch the floor, the sand biting into your skin and sticking to your hair, but that was the last of your worries at the moment. Keigo moaned with his eyes closed as he felt you squeezing him, your walls already closing in around him.

“Fuck, Keigo” you moan. “I’m close.”

“Cum, baby, cum for me.”

So you did. White fluid bursted around him as you cried out loud, arching your back as you came. He gripped your thighs to keep you from letting go of his waist and continued his thrusts, reaching for his own high. Your legs trembled with the arousal, limbs going limp as he thrust harder, your breasts bouncing with the movement.

Keigo pulled out of you before he came, painting your breasts and your once red bra white. He fell beside you and you just stared at the sky for a few moments, bodies sweaty from the sun and sex.

“You owe me a new bikini”, you pointed after a minute making him laugh, a little breathless.

“Do I?” You looked at him accusingly, to which he just answered with a cheeky grin. "Actually, I think you're not gonna need clothes for this weekend."

You scoffed. “You wish. Maybe I should - Keigo!”

He suddenly turned you around, getting behind you and pulling your hips so that your ass was in the air, arms and face in the sand. Fast as always, Hawks.

"Oh baby," he cooed and you felt the tip of his cock already starting to get hard again against your entrance, "you didn't think we were done, did you? We have two whole days to go."

Needless to say you were sore at the end of the weekend.

I love this winged man

Thank you for reading and for the support!

Angie ❤

[any comments will be answered with my main account: @angie-1306]

[buckybarnesdiaries]

; i'm coming home

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you own it, send me a message with your @.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

bucky and you met six years ago in romania, but he disappeared. now, he's back.

word count: 1.8k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

requests are open.

Six years had passed since the last time he was with you, before disappearing overnight. He didn't give you any explanation, he didn't even leave a note. He needed to protect you, but he also knew how stubborn you were and that you wouldn't let him take that decision for both. So Bucky simply left, breaking your heart in one thousand pieces. You wanted to understand his reasons, but you couldn't. He promised you eternal love, a life together, moving out of New York —maybe to a remote place where anyone could recognize him and have peaceful days, without having to be worried about someone coming after him. About someone trying to hurt you.

Since the very first moment you met in Romania, Bucky fell in love with you. Sometimes you still remembered how he started talking to you in Romanian, guessing you were from there until you laughed and replied in English. The next few weeks were like a daydream. Walks, romantic dates, nights of stargazing. Then, you came back to New York and kept in touch by letters, as in the forties or fifties. Until one day. Your friends invited you to a museum and what you discovered there was unbelievable. James, your James, was Captain America's best friend. And he was supposed to be dead.

You wrote to him. You told him you knew it. You told him you didn't care, that you could figure out how to escape from that situation. Together. But he never sent you a letter back. You weren't able to forget him after all that time, still sleeping every night with his red shirt, stupidly fantasizing about the idea of Bucky coming back to you. And your hopes increased when you watched him on TV. The Avengers found him and, even if you tried to contact them somehow to defend your James, you never got it. Nobody believed you, not even when you showed them the letters, not the only picture you conservated of both of you in Bucharest. You prayed to God to help him. You begged God to the world seeing him as you did.

But when Bucky was released on parole, he never tried to look for you. He did know you lived in New York and, with his resources, he'd have known in less than five minutes. One year had passed, and you ended up losing the most minimal hope wrapping your heart. All those things he told you once, were just lies. Lies to inventing a parallel life until you left Romania. Only replying to your letters to have something to lean on for his own good. That's what he demonstrated to you.

bucky's pov

Like every night since he earned part of his freedom, Bucky stared at the windows of your apartment, from the opposite sidewalk hidden behind a tree. Like a ghost. Like he was trained to see but not be seeing. Every night, he wanted to cross the road, call to your door, kiss you, hug you, feel your touch and your love —hold you, and never let you go again. But he knew it was risky, he knew he had to wait for the right time. And it came. Tonight it came. His year of therapy had ended and he was free. Bucky was free to come back home.

He had been watching you since it started, making sure you were safe and sound. He also was aware that you never rebuilt your life with another man, that you tried to find him. That you slept every night with his shirt. Bucky was also aware of all the times you cried for him, that you always walked the same way from your job to your apartment expecting to meet him in some street close to it. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

Taking a deep, deep breath, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his coat, the soldier put a step on the road. The first step to happiness. And then, no one could stop him. He continued to the front door of the building, not needing more than a push to open it. Third floor, fifth door at the right of the corridor. Bucky licked his bottom lip nervously, swallowing as he took a master key from one of his pockets and a small metallic stick to force the lock of your house. He needed to be fast and stealthy, ringing the bell wasn't an option for very obvious reasons. Breaking into the apartment, he closed the door quietly behind his back.

The lights were all turned off a couple of hours ago when you went to sleep, after sitting on the window of your living room waiting for someone who wasn't going to show up, as every night for the last six years. The whole place smelled sweet like you used to. Bucky never forgot your scent, using it as the encouragement he needed to continue fighting for his freedom, for a life together. Now, his heart was racing so quickly that the whole city could hear his beats.

Slowly, he toured the entrance, the living room, the hallway straight to your dorm. The door was half-closed. Not a single noise coming from the inside. Bucky walked towards it, pushing it in slow motion, trying to not wake you up. And if he knew before that could be that easy to watch you sleep —for creepy that it sounded— he would have watched you every night since he landed in New York.

Bucky wasn't sure about what to do. If he should wake you up, if he should let you sleep and come the next day after you finished your work. When he wanted to realize, he was running the nail of his index finger on your soft cheek. Your skin was still warm, which meant you fell asleep crying again. And that broke his heart, his soul. Being conscious of all the pain and the suffering he made you being through all that time was killing him from inside. And he wished he could have handled your relationship in another way. But there wasn't another way without you being collateral damage of his past.

Bucky was about to leave when he suddenly felt a hit to his collarbone, stumbling to the bed. He didn't have time to react when your right leg was beneath his cold arm and pinning down his neck, as your left leg was laced around it. Your hand gripping his wrist, immobilizing him, pointing at him with a loaded gun between your free fingers. Your breathing became erratic, your pulse was beating faster than ever, but you were ready to shoot if the occasion required it.

In the middle of the gloom you glimpsed at those deep oceanic blue eyes you had been craving to look at for years. The same eyes on the picture on your nightstand. It has to be another dream. Another nightmare where Bucky came to tell you that everything was going to be okay. But his touch felt so real that it hurt like a million flames burning down your body to ashes. You were paralyzed. Your brain collapsed. In a very slow motion, James —your James— raised his right hand from the mattress to above his chest, bringing it to the gun aimed at his head. You couldn't stop him. You tried with all your strength. But the commands sent by your neurons never reached the finger supported against the trigger.

His flesh digits made their way to your trembling hand, as the tears started to sprout out from your eyes. Bucky took the weapon, not needing to ask you to release it, to put it away from the two of you.

“It's okay, draga mea, it's me…” He whispered with such an angelical and melodic voice, over your dolorous sobs. “May I, uh… get my arm back?”

Bit by bit, you obeyed as if it was some kind of polite order, loosening the grip around his arm and over his neck. Stepping back till your body collided with the headboard, you curled up your knees to your furious chest rising and falling, hiding your face between the gap of both. Your cry became louder, agonic, painful, ripping your throat.

“No— Not again… Not again, please… I c— can't”. You implored sorely.

Bucky didn't need to be a genius to understand you firmly believed it was just part of another of your dreams. Another of your nightmares. He sat upon your bed, coming closer to you and landing his cold metallic hand on the back of your head, urging you to raise it. You did. You did raise your burning face because of the tears falling, running down your cheeks. Your blurry gaze focused on his pale blue eyes, begging you silently to forgive him.

“I'm here… I'm back”. Bucky murmured, gently touring your skin until reaching a side of your neck, caressing your throat by using his thumb. “This is not a dream, draga mea. This is real”.

His intentions weren't to scare you, speaking to you with such a honeyed tone of voice as he shortened the distance between his body and your legs yet curled. You pouted unconsciously, watching him leaning above your legs to press his lips on the bridge of your nose. Slowly, fondly. Wanting to transmit to you that the flame of his love for you never went out. Resting his forehead against yours, your right hand flew straight to the back of his neck. You had never needed more than you needed him at that precise instant, trying to believe that that wasn't a trick of your subconscious.

“'M so, so sorry… I had to protect you… I had to protect you”. Bucky explained while closing his eyes, lacing his free fingers with yours. “But, uh… I know you still drink black coffee with mocha and a stick of cinnamon every Thursday. I know you… rent a book from the library and sit on the stairs in your free evenings… I know you sleep with this same shirt every night”.

Discovering he had been watching you all this time provoked your lips to shiver, as your cry became lower and your breathing was calmer. He guarded your days, in the shadows, till the right moment. And it came. Tonight was the right moment.

“I'm free. I'm not an enemy anymore… I'm not a target”. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle to hold back his own tears. “I'm so sorry”.

“Will you…? Will you stay now? With me?” At first, you doubted asking, being afraid of his response for a second.

“No one will ever set us apart again. No one”. He promised you, his heart speaking, telling the absolute truth. “Everything I told you in Bucharest; everything was true. And I… I want it”.

Bucky leaned forward enough inches to make disappear the less distance between both of you, pressing his lips in yours, tenderly caressing your jawline with his thumb as his tears met yours in the corner of your lips. Neither of you could believe that you were reunited after all these years, after all the pain, the loneliness. And like James, your James, said so: no one would ever set you apart again.

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[amyscascadingtabs]

give you my wild, give you a child

"stupid numbers, think they’re so great. i'd love to see numbers give you a baby."

inspired by that one line in 8x08 renewal, because he really did give her a baby.

read on ao3

It's been three days and Amy can't stop crying.

 Sometimes she thinks it's stopped, that she'll finally have a stable moment to talk to her husband or eat a meal in peace or facetime some of the twenty or so relatives on her list, but it feels like it’s never more than minutes before her emotions swim to surface again and something new brings out the vibrating sobs that have seemed to characterize this day. As it turns out, even newly pregnant Amy has got nothing on three days postpartum Amy.

 That she cries about the big, life-changing things doesn’t surprise her. When she wakes up after a night of minimal sleep and sees Mac in the bedside crib next to her, she cries because she’s so grateful; that everything went well, that their baby is finally here and that he's perfect beyond words. Then she cries because she thinks about what could have happened if it hadn't gone well, because she gave birth in a makeshift birthing suite in a police precinct, and so many things could have gone wrong it’s a miracle nothing did. When she gets out of the shower, she cries seeing herself in the bathroom mirror, because she's proud of her body in a way she's never experienced before. Then she cries because she also barely recognizes the person staring back at her, still looking six months pregnant except with hospital underwear and nursing pads in her bra. When she has breakfast after feeding Mac and tries to read the newspaper, she cries because so many terrible things are happening in the world all the time, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to protect this child from a world that sometimes seems to be getting more and more cruel by the day. Then she cries out of guilt for feeling that way, because she’s supposed to be enjoying this baby bubble, and what kind of mother even is she for daring to think about anything but her baby right now?

  As the day goes on, however, her reasons for crying begin to feel increasingly ridiculous. She cries because she’s so relieved to be drinking regular coffee again, then because it doesn’t taste the same as decaf and she’s gotten so used to it that the caffeine tastes weird now. She cries because the coffee goes cold anyway when Mac begins to whimper and suck on his fingers in the way he seems to do whenever he’s hungry and she has to drop everything to feed him another time. She cries when Jake turns on the television and a commercial for diapers comes on, because she can’t believe they get to buy them now. Then she cries when Mac has finished eating because the red flannel she borrowed slash stole from Jake won’t button properly, and she realizes one of the buttons has gone in the wrong hole and she has to redo the whole thing. When Jake offers to help her with it, that makes her cry too, because the way he’s not laughing at her right now but patiently trying to solve her problems is making her feel so loved she doesn't know how to thank him.

  The thing that makes her cry most of all, though, is watching Jake and Mac together. She always knew that sight would drive her crazy, and it’s part of the reason she wanted to have kids with him so much in the first place, but not even in her most indulgent fantasies about their future could she have pictured this. As grateful as she is over the fact that she gets to be a mom, getting to see Jake be a dad is a close second. He loves their son so much, and Mac so clearly loves him too, and Amy has to remind herself of the nine months she's spent carrying this child by herself in order not to feel jealous when Mac stops fussing the moment Jake picks him up. He looks so tiny when Jake holds him, the back of his head fitting perfectly in Jake's palm, and the care with which he’s handling him keeps making her emotional. He's always talking to him, sometimes whispers she can't hear and sometimes praise for her which she can, and that makes her cry too. He even chats to him when he changes his diapers, which Amy hides behind the door frame just so she can hear, failing to stifle a giggle when he asks in a fake interrogation voice what Mac has to say to his defense for making such a mess. He wakes up with her in the middle of the night when she has to breastfeed to get her endless glasses of water and granola bars when it makes her feel starving, and then he lets Mac burp him in the face and spit up on the back of his shirt before he falls back asleep curled up on his chest. He leans his chin on the top of Mac’s head to smell that perfect baby scent, running his finger over those cute neck rolls, and the smile on his face when he looks back at Amy makes her completely lose it, because this is what she dreamed of all along.

  This is what she imagined when they visited her brother Christian’s new baby shortly before they got married and Jake spent the better part of an hour making funny faces to the child in his arms. This is what she panicked over when he said he wasn't sure if he wanted kids, because she had always thought. This is what she thought of those nights after another timed round of unenthusiastic sex, trying to keep the hope alight until that single line would once more tell them not this time. She had felt it in his teary smile when she showed him that first positive test, in how hard he'd squeezed her hand at their first ultrasound when their baby’s heartbeat had filled the room, in the absolute joy on his face the first time he’d managed to put his hand on her stomach just in time to feel their son kick, and now it's right in front of her and almost too much for her heart to take.

 She's so tired, and she's sore and overwhelmed and worried about a billion different things, but she's never felt so grateful.

 That's what makes her cry floods at three a.m. when Mac seems to have finished eating and she comes back from the bathroom to find Jake still sitting up with him in bed, holding him with a hypnotised look on his face. He doesn’t even seem tired, even though he must be, is just looking at his son like he’s holding the entire world in his arms and doesn’t ever want to let go. She always knew seeing him with a baby would be incredible, those surprisingly toned biceps curling around a fragile little human and those heart eyes focused on one thing only, but maybe she hadn’t expected not being able to watch it without breaking into tears.

 “Jeez, Ames,” he says when he looks up, the expression on his face changing to one of concern. “Are you okay? Honestly?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles and dries her eyes again as she sits down on the bed. The skin on her cheeks is stinging at this point. “I just can’t believe this is my life.”

“Why not?” Mac’s pacifier glides out of his mouth, and Jake puts it back with two fingers before he can notice anything. “We’re right here, babe. We’re very much real.”

“Sometimes I thought it was never going to happen.” She hiccups. “All the times we’ve been apart. The months we fought to have him. How freaking long and exhausting being pregnant was. And now I have him, and you, and I’m just so grateful I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“That’s why you’re crying?”

“I think I don’t even know why I’m crying anymore. I’m so sleep-deprived.”

“Yeah.” Jake smirks. “But I get it. I’m really, really grateful too.”

 Mac makes a short gurgling sound that Amy takes to mean he agrees. She reaches out so his hand can wrap around her ring finger, feeling him squeezing it tight in the cutest grip. The grey striped pajamas has little mittens on it to keep him from scratching herself, but Mac gets upset whenever they pull them down, so Amy figures they'll just have to keep filing his nails instead. Their son is already both opinionated and stubborn, and she loves it about him, because she loves everything about who he is. He's perfect, and he's hers, and she still can't quite believe it even though he's right there in Jake's arms. It's all her dreams coming true, and it's making all the hard things feel so worth it.

 “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for giving me a baby,” she whispers. She’s too tired, barely even knows what she's saying anymore, but looking at the two of them, all she can think about is how incredibly lucky and thankful she feels.

Jake blinks in disbelief, grinning at her. “Wait, I gotta make sure I heard this right. Did you just thank me for giving you a baby?”

“Uh-huh?”

“And you're serious about this?”

“Well… yeah.”

“So you mean after nine months,” he says, still wide-eyed, “of you telling me, minimum a couple times a week but pretty much daily toward the end, that I could never understand what you're going through, and then you shouting some lovely descriptions at me whilst you were literally pushing him out, and also earlier this evening when you cried because I can't breastfeed him for you – you’re thanking me?”

“Some of it was a team effort,” she insists. “You helped.”

“Oh yeah, my nards sure are loving the credit.”

“Don't be gross.”

“Sorry.” He smiles, a little bashfully, stroking his fingers back and forth over Mac’s forehead instead of looking at her. “But Ames, c’mon. It was a pretty limited effort compared to what you did.”

“Maybe they’re not the same thing.” She leans her head on his shoulder. Mac is still holding on to her finger, but his grip is getting looser now. “But you were part of it too, babe.”

“Really?” He’s blushing. “What did I do that was so special?”

“Let's see. You didn’t laugh at me when I kept crying at everything the first weeks. Rosa made fun of me on a daily basis, but you just hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay. You let me sleep in when I had days off, even though I pretended I wanted you to wake me up. You fixed food for me without telling me what it was, and put it in front of me before I could feel sick thinking about it.” She shakes her head at the memory of those, few but complicated, weeks, and how hard they’d had to work around it. “You kept telling me I looked great even when my body kept changing and it all felt weird, and helped me pick out maternity wear when I didn’t want to do it on my own. I don’t know that I would have taken barely any bump pictures if you hadn't made me. You listened to all my research about the best strollers and pacifiers and cribs, and you did those courses and read all those books with me, and you came to almost every scan and held my hand so tight every time. You came home with onesies and hats because you thought they were too cute not to buy, and you gave me massages whenever I wanted them, and you even slept on the couch a couple nights at the end when I got angry at you for snoring. You barely even complained about it.”

“I complained a little,” Jake mumbles. “When you couldn’t hear me.”

“Fine. And lastly, you rode a horse through the city to get to me while I was in labor, and you didn’t even act like seeing him be born was gross.”

“I mean, it was a little bit gross.” Jake lifts Mac so he can kiss his forehead when he whimpers. “No offense, bud. I mean you looked perfect, I didn’t think you looked like a slimy alien even for a second, didn’t cross my mind, et cetera.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Point is, babe, you were there. You're here now. I know I did the actual work, but you were the one who made sure I could. I don’t know how I would have made it through without you. So… thank you.”

 He doesn't give her any witty comebacks for that, only a shy smile.

“I love you,” Amy all but whispers through the tears that fight their way through her determination to keep them in. “Both of you. So much.”

“Love you, Ames.”

She kisses him, putting her hands on each side of his thighs so she can reach over Mac. Kissing is a lot more complicated than usual when both his hands are busy and none of them wants to risk crushing their son, but it's still nice, feeling his soft lips on hers and squeezing his lower lip between both of hers for just a moment before pulling apart.

“It's hard to kiss you while you're holding a baby,” she says, and Jake grimaces. “That might be the only bad thing about it.”

“My bad. I’m just going to put him down so we can make out all night.”

“Don't you dare. He currently doesn't have a boob in his mouth and he's still not crying, you're not doing anything to risk that now.” Amy pulls the comforter up to her chin. “Wake me up when he needs to eat again and not a second earlier.”

Jake chuckles at her as she turns out the light and snuggles up close to him, but he makes no move to put Mac down or even protest, and she didn't think it was possible to love him even more. Her heart has definitely grown with becoming a mom, much like everyone told her about, but most seem to have forgotten to prepare her for how much it would also grow when it came to her partner.

 “I still think I’m the one who should say thank you,” Jake whispers just as she closes her eyes, and Amy can't help but smile. “If we're talking about who gave who a baby.”

“Jake, just accept the praise.”

“Oh, yeah.” She doesn't need to see his face to know that he's grinning. “I’ve locked it in a little box in my brain and I’m gonna keep it as gloat material forever, bringing it up when you least expect it.”

“That's great, babe.”

“Mm-hmm. We both know the truth, though.” Jake's left hand strokes over the top of her head, and Amy has to look up to see that Mac is still resting safely on his right arm and doesn't seem to have noticed a thing. Another tear fight its way down her cheek at the thought of how safe he must feel with him. This time, she doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.

 ~

[thebookreader12345]

Kiss and Tell

Pairing: Crockett Marcel x reader

Summary: Y/N and Crockett both work at Med and have been dating for a few months, and one day, Y/N finds out that Crockett kissed April while they were together

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of blood

Word Count: 1,311 Words

“So, what? You just thought I’d never find out?” I ask Crockett as we were standing at the nurses station.

“No! I meant to tell you. I was just trying to figure out the right time,” Crockett spoke.

“Yeah, well, you’re too late. I had to find out from Ethan that you kissed April,” I whisper harshly.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just sort of did,” Crockett pointed out.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to kiss April, but I did, and I hid it from you,’“ I mock. “That’s a real bullshit explanation.” By now, I could feel the eyes of everyone in the ED on us, but I didn’t care. Crockett and I needed to sort things out.

“Hey,” April greeted and walked over to us. “You guys should probably take this somewhere else.”

“Stay out of our business, April,” I sneer. “You’re the one who started this whole problem in the first place.”

“Y/N, don’t get April involved,” Crockett defended.

“A kiss is mutual, Crockett. You kissed her and she kissed you. Just forget it. I’m done,” I say.

“Y/N wait!” Crockett called out. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around, storming back over to him.

“If you want to be with April so bad, then fine. You’re off the hook,” I state and slip the promise ring Crockett had given me off of my finger, slamming it down onto the counter. “We’re through.” Later that night, after shift, because Crockett was going to be at our shared apartment, I packed a bag and headed to the one place I knew I would be welcomed; Natalie’s. I knocked on the door, and when Natalie opened it, she saw me standing with a bag at my side. “Hey, Nat. Can I come in?” Natalie nodded and ushered me inside, closing the door behind me.

“I heard about what happened with Crockett today,” Natalie brought up.

“Which is why I’m here,” I tell her. “I can’t go back to that apartment and see him. Can I stay here for a few days?”

“Of course you can. Stay as long as you need. Owen loves you, and you’re my best friend,” Natalie admitted.

“Thanks, Nat. You’re the best,” I exclaim.

Time-skip to next shift...

“Crockett’s been staring at you for the past 5 minutes,” Natalie alerted me as we were standing together at the nurse’s station.

I shrugged. “I don’t really care at the moment.”

“Y/N, you’re up!” Maggie shouted just as a gurney rolled into the ED.

“What do we got, Courtney?” I ask the paramedic.

“Emma Milne, 19. She’s been complaining of stomach pains,” Courtney informed me.

I nodded. “All right. Transfer on three. One. Two. Three. Courtney and I along with the other paramedic transferred Emma to the trauma bed, and as they left the room, I started doing my job. “So, Emma, are you attending college right now?”

“Yeah,” Emma muttered weakly. “University of Chicago. I’m studying English. I want to be a writer.”

“No way. I went there for college too. Kudos to you though. I could never stand English as a kid,” I tell her. Emma laughed softly, but soon after winced in pain. She then leaned over the side of the bed and vomited blood all over the floor. “Hey! I need some help in here!” I call out into the ED and rush to grab a kidney dish. Once I had grabbed one, I handed it to Emma and held her hair back as she continued to throw up a bit of blood. And then, the person I didn’t want to socialize with most entered the room.

“Everything okay?” Crockett questioned and slipped on some gloves, his voice thick with his southern accent.

“I think she’s got an ulcer. I was thinking-”

Crockett cut me off. “Triple therapy? Yeah. Got it.” As Crockett left the room, Emma groaned and turned to me.

“Did I just embarrass myself in front of that hot doctor?” Emma asked.

I chuckled and pat her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Dr. Marcel has seen far worse. Trust me when I say that.”

“So what’s an ulcer?” Emma quizzed.

“They’re little sores that can grow on the stomach. Most of the time they’re caused by stress, which makes sense seeing as you’re in college. We’re just going to give you some medicine, keep watch on you for a little bit, and send you home with a prescription. It’s nothing too serious,” I explain.

“Okay. Thank you...” She stopped and looked at my coat. “Dr. L/N.”

“No problem, Emma. Dr. Marcel will be back in a minute or two to get you started on those meds, and I will swing by later to check on you,” I say and leave the room. A few minutes later, after Crockett had given Emma her meds, he walked over to me.

“Can we talk?” Crockett requested.

“About Emma?” I implore.

“No,” Crockett replied.

“Then no,” I exclaim and set my tablet down.

“Y/N, please,” Crockett begged.

“Crockett, I don’t want a repeat of last shift, so I don’t think talking is the best idea,” I declare.

“And I completely understand that, but I really want to talk to you. I need to explain myself,” Crockett spoke. 

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, letting out a small breath. “Fine,” I breathe out. “After shift, meet me out in front of the hospital. We can talk then, but as for now, I’ve got to get back to work.” That same night, once my shift was over, and I finished up everything I needed to, I walked to the front of the hospital where Crockett was already waiting. “All right. What’s up?”

“I didn’t kiss April,” Crockett claimed. “We were working on a case together, things went better than expected, and after we hugged, April kissed me. I didn’t kiss back. I actually pushed her away. I didn’t want her to say anything because it meant nothing to me, but she went and told Ethan, and then it became a whole thing. I would never do anything to hurt you, Y/N.”

“Did you know that the night of the shift where I broke up with you, I cried myself to sleep? You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough,” I confess as tears welled in my eyes. “That I was never going to be good enough for anyone. You made me feel like shit, Crockett.”

Crockett frowned and pulled me to his chest, rubbing his hand up and down my back. “I never meant for things to get this out of hand. As soon as I heard that April told Ethan, I wanted to tell you. But you were busy doing stuff with Natalie and your family, so I pushed it off. That’s not an excuse though. I should’ve told you sooner. You mean the world to me, Y/N. And I’m sorry that I made you feel bad.” I then pulled myself away from Crockett, and he produced the promise ring he had given me from his pocket. “I would really like for us to get back together.” I took the ring from his hand, rolling it around in the palm of my hand.

“Promise me that you’ll be honest with me from here on out, and that something like this will never happen again,” I insist.

“I promise,” Crockett replied quickly. I smiled and slipped the ring back onto my finger, and as soon as I did, Crockett swooped down and pressed his lips to mine. My hands found there way to Crockett’s neck, and my fingers ran through the hair at the nape of his neck. After a few seconds, we pulled away breathless. “Come home with me,” Crockett breathed out.

“I would love to,” I murmur. “Lets go.”

_________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett​

[gyll-yee-haw]

Take care of you.

Prompt: it's your husband's first long travel since your wedding. You both just can't wait to see each other again.

Warnings: teasing, unprotected sex, breeding kink all over it, daddy kink, a bit of size kink maybe, 2 smuts in one, degradating and praising, multiple orgasms, overestimation.… I know, but its still fluffy, I swear

Fluffy warnings: Jake wearing THAT^ outfit. You washing his long hair. Like... him loving his wifey sm.... I'm unstable

Like 3k words.

---

You were living a never ending honeymoon. Even after you and Jake came back home from your official one, nothing changed. Still had that same sweet energy.

And that only made it even harder when he had to say goodbye. Yeah, it was only for a month, and he definitely had been away for longer periods of time, but right now… it was painful because you both had to admit to yourselves that your honeymoon was over and real life started.

You missed each other so badly. You cried on the phone more than once. But you knew he loved his job. And you loved to support him.

Felt like it took ages, but the day of his return finally came. You barely slept the night before it. You missed his sleepy voice in the morning. His jokes and his weird behavior, cause he just felt so comfortable around you. And you obviously missed the fact that everything always turned into sex these days. Wherever you looked at in that house, Jake had already fucked you there. Your heart craved his presence and your body craved his touch. You didn't even know which one was more urgent... all you knew was that it all together was making you desperate.

---

Jake felt the same way. He wanted to hug you and he wanted to shove his cock inside you so bad, all at once. He texted you from the taxi, saying he was 20 minutes away.

'I can't wait, tell the driver to hurry up, please.' You texted him back.

As a reply, all you got was a pic of the bulge in his pants. You shivered. You couldn't believe that would be inside you in a few minutes. You decided to tease him back:

'If you're already that hard, imagine how you'll feel when you see how fucking wet I am right now. So much, daddy… it's running down my thighs, I swear… need you here quickly, I promised you I wouldn't touch myself, but...'

He groaned frustratedly and decided to stay off his phone for now. You were already making him throb painfully, and he knew pretty well how wild the teasing could get between the two of you.

---

He planned on fucking you hard even before he opened the front door and found you in nothing but his shirt.

I said nothing.

You knew he was coming and there was no time to waste, so…

You ran towards the door for a hug that quickly became a messy kiss. His hands were everywhere, like he was trying to find out if you were real. The truth was that he just didn't know where to touch you first.

Jake pinned you against the wall and you grinded his thigh while he was unzipping his pants, whining loudly cause you were desperate like that.

He grabbed your waist and lifted you a little, so you automatically wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. You pulled him as close as possible and all you felt was him. His warm embrace, his soft lips on your neck...

He held you against the wall with one hand while he grabbed his cock with the other

He shoved it at once inside you, groaning wild and loudly.

Your face couldn't hide the pain as he started thrusting mercilessly the second his was in.

"What is that, babygirl?" He cooed, and his sweet voice didn't match the eagerness of his hips. "Did you forget how it feels to have daddy inside you? Forget how big I am? Well, I'm back now, so I gotta stretch this tight little pussy open for me again."

You couldn't say anything, all you could do was take every single thing he gave you.

The way his body was pressed against yours made it impossible for him to avoid brushing your clit with his lower abdomen.

"Jake, I'm gonna cum." You told him desperately. You didn't want to do it so fast, but it was impossible to hold it at that point.

"Yes, pretty girl, as loud as you can, I missed hearing you crying out my name…"

Your fingers wrapped around his hair, that was a messy bun at this point, and you came, screaming his name, hoping it would make him cum too.

But not so soon.

Your orgasm only made him want you more. Only made him harder, if that was even possible.

And he didn't give you a second to recover, he kept fucking you like nothing happened, maybe even harder than before.

Your clit was hurting from overestimation, your hips bucked trying to escape the constant pressure, your legs were shaking so much around his body. It felt so good that you had to beg him to stop, you couldn't take all of it.

"Cum inside me, daddy, please, give me your… fuck." You felt the tears in the corner of your eyes as your second orgasm approached.

"My what? You weren't going to say cum, were you, princess?" He smirked. "You were gonna say babies, you want me to knock you the fuck up, huh?"

You weren't even sure what you wanted anymore, but you nodded, moaning loudly as he pounded you through your orgasm.

"I barely came home and you're already begging for my children again, you little slut." He mocked you, but you could tell he was getting close. His movements became messier.

And like he wasn't already absolutely abusing your clit and saying things that could make you cum untouched, he just started hitting that special place inside you that made you dumb for him.

He used all the strength he had left to thrust DEEP and HARD inside you one last time.

Maybe you came for the third time, but you weren't even sure anymore. All you knew was that it was lot.

It was so relieving when his hips stopped and you felt his warm seed filling you up. Fuck, there was SO MUCH of it, it had been so long… you didn't remember ever feeling that full before.

But when he was done, he cursed himself for not doing that in bed, cause he was exhausted on a level that he could barely stand. His legs were weak and he was still buried inside you, his arms on each side of your head on the wall, supporting his weight.

Fuck it, he knew there was no time to get in bed. His cock was too hard, his balls were too full and you looked too hot with his shirt barely hiding the fact that your pussy was free for him to use.

And you were absolutely wrecked. Your pussy was so sore that you were afraid to touch it, even to remove his cock from you.

Maybe it was the post orgasmic bliss, mixed with the feeling or being so close after being separated for so long… but the energy of that moment was unmatched. Unexplainable. You both were feeling that way, and somehow you knew it.

But after Jake caught his breath, he removed himself from you, helping you stand on your feet again, but he still kept one hand on the wall to support his own weight, just in case.

"Babe…" You laughed. "Look at how exhausted you are, it's almost heartbreaking."

He sent you a tired smile.

"Come on, I'll run you a bath, what do you think?" You suggested, kissing his cheek.

"Sounds wonderful." He agreed. "As long as you join me."

"Jacob, you can barely stand, how are you still horny?" You rolled your eyes.

"Didn't mean that." He chuckled. "Just wanna stay close to you. Missed you, baby."

"Missed you too." He brought you for a tight hug and you melted in his arms.

---

When the two of you managed to get upstairs, Jake sat in bed as you prepared the bath.

You walked into the room and found him going through his phone.

"Sorry." He said, without looking at you. "I'll be there in a minute, I'll just…"

When you approached him and realized he was working, you sighed and grabbed his phone.

He looked at you with a confused expression.

"Enough work." You sent him a sad look. "Work kept you away from me for WEEKS. Now it's all about us. Let me take good care of my husband, just for today?"

He couldn't resist you. Anything you asked, the answer was always yes. Specially in this occasion, when there was absolutely nothing he would rather do than spend time with you.

You grabbed his hand and guided him to the bathroom.

He removed his clothes and sat on the warm bubble bath

You only had his old shirt on, so you were able to do the same and join him in a second.

The kind of non sexual intimacy of your naked bodies touching was so relaxing. Jake walked into the house almost an hour ago, but nothing made him feel at home quite like that exact moment.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Just to enjoy the warmth from the water. To wrap his arms around you and feel like the happiest man alive.

But, suddenly, his peace was interrupted by the sound of the water moving and the loss of contact with your body.

You turned around and now sat down facing him.

Watching him with a sweet smile on your face.

You bit your lip and placed your hand on the back of his head, gently undoing the bun his hair was in.

"What are you doing?" He chuckled. "I thought this whole thing about you being eager to have a baby was only kinky stuff, honey. I know how to take a bath."

"Shut up." You laughed, taking a hand full of water to the back of his head, wetting his hair. "I'm just taking care of my husband."

He didn't say or do anything to stop you. So you grabbed the shampoo bottle and applied a little on your hand, proceeding to massage his scalp very gently with the tip of your fingers.

He closed his eyes and relaxed again as you finished washing his hair. You took your time and enjoyed the moment. Jake's hair was soft and he looked absolutely breathtaking like that. Relaxed. Humming softly. His wet golden chain caught your eyes as you watched his chest going up and down slowly. So beautiful. Beautiful couldn't even describe it…

"I love you." You whispered to him.

He smiled and opened his eyes. "I love you too. So much that sometimes I just can't believe you're my wife. Just too good to be truth."

You smiled like a fool and wished that moment could last forever. But the water was getting cold. So you stood up and wrapped a towel around your body.

"Where are you going?" He protested.

"Come on, let's put some clean clothes on, I miss movie night and cuddles on the sofa." You suggested.

---

Jake was sitting on the sofa in his grey sweatpants and sweatshirt. You always told him that was his softest outfit and it was just perfect for cuddling. Heaven couldn't compare to that feeling... your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around you.

The tv was only background noise, cause he was actually looking at you. When you felt his gaze, you looked back at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" You asked. "Jesus, looks like you haven't seen me in like... a month?"

"I could spend my whole life looking at you and I still wouldn't have enough." He said, caressing your cheek with two fingers.

You stood like that for a while, looking at each other's eyes while he stroked your cheeks softly. Then his fingers started to move down to your chin. Then to your lips. You parted them a bit and Jake slid his fingers inside your mouth slowly.

You nibbled them gently with your front teeth until he moved them deeper inside your mouth, placing them on your tongue. He started moving them in lazy circles. All without losing eye contact. It was so intense that you left out a moan without even noticing it.

"What's on your mind, babygirl?" He smiled.

You grabbed his wrist and removed his fingers from your mouth, sucking them on the process.

"What you said earlier in the bathroom." You admitted. "And by the front door too. Thinking about you getting me pregnant, wouldn't that be nice?"

"Fuck, y/n..." He smirked. "Is this still only kinky stuff?"

"Yeah, for now it is." You said, straddling his lap. "Just wanna make you hard. Be the only one who gets to call you daddy just for now."

Those sweatpants weren't only good for cuddling. It was also amazing to feel his hard cock through them.

"Yes, pretty girl, I love it when you call me daddy." He kissed you passionately, while his hands traveled your body, ending up on your clothed core. His fingers barely brushed your clit through your panties and you left out a little "ouch".

"You still didn't even recover from how good I fucked you last time and you already want more, my greedy little slut." He chuckled.

"Yeah, I fucking missed you." You shrugged. "And we're not gonna fuck again, we're gonna make love now."

"Who said that?" He raised his eyebrows. "What if I want to fuck you?"

His fingers insisted on touching your clit until you started getting used to it.

"Be gentle with me, daddy, please." You begged. "Need your love, not just your cock."

If he wasn't convinced already, the way you asked made him change his mind.

"Okay, baby." He pulled his pants down and grabbed his cock, beautiful hard again. "Why don't you ride me nice and slow, then?"

You nodded, raising your hips a little, so he could help you remove your panties. He tossed them on the floor and his fingers went back to your core, spreading your folds and running his fingers through them until you were wet enough. He slid two fingers inside you and you started rocking your hips softly. He removed his fingers from you too suddenly, and your pussy automatically clenched around nothing.

You sent him a pleading look, but he was too busy licking his fingers. You waited. But your suffering didn't last very long, he quickly grabbed his cock and gave it a few strokes before aligning it with your pussy. He held it dangerously close and teased your entrance a bit. When the head was in, he left you do the job.

You lowered yourself on his cock slowly. Inch by inch like you didnt want to miss a single detail, a single vein. Your tight hole embraced all of his thick length. The last time he stretched you up wasn't that long ago, but you still needed to adjust to his size. You held on to his hair, that was still wet, and started moving your hips.

"Just ike that, my angel." He whispered, placing his hands on your hips and guiding them up and down slowly. "Nice and slow, good girl."

You managed to keep that slow sensual pace with him praising you and telling you that you were the love of his life every 10 seconds. But only until he was getting close. His words turned into incoherent moans and his fingers digged into your hips, which you understood as a sign to go a little faster.

Your 4th release that night was approaching. You felt like you would fall apart when you reached it, but you still needed it. After all… what's the problem of falling apart when you're in your lover's arms?

You two came almost at the same time. You were connected just like that. He held your body close and you fell on his chest, completely weak. But, one more time, Heaven couldn't compare. Sitting on his lap, his cock still inside you, after barely coming down from your high. Your head resting on his chest, on his soft sweatshirt, his cologne mixed with the smell of sex in the air.

He didn't want to leave that place. Didn't matter if it would be for a month again, of even for a second. He was fully aware at that moment that you were the most important thing in his life.

He gently removed you from his lap, placing you on the sofa, and fixed his clothes before standing up. You were absolutely exhausted and didn't move a muscle, just sat on the sofa on the exact same position he left you. He chuckled and leaned close to you, placing one arm on your back and the other under your legs. Your arms automatically wrapped around his shoulders and he picked you up.

"What are you doing?" You yawned and rested your head on his shoulder.

"It's my turn now." He smiled and kissed your forehead. "I'm taking care of my wife."

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, promoting, encouraging, justifying nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, yandere behavior, bullying, harassment, blackmail, sexual scenes, abusive relationship, manipulation, verbal abuse, abortion, attempted murder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟼𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟹 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟾 𝙵𝚝.

𝙰𝚐𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□90%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚛

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙰𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜/𝚘.

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 .

𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had known him for the longest time, probably since you were both learning the alphabet.

Even back then he was a troublesome boy.

Loved to dip your hair in paint, pour glue inside your backpack.

Or always pushed you off the swings cause he wanted to play in it.

This didn't really faze you back then.

Most of the boys that age played such tricks on almost all the girls.

They all had a specific target and you were Wooyoung's.

You remember telling this one day to your mom, who simply chuckled.

"Honey, boys tend to tease the girls they have a crush on."

You remember looking at her with confusion.

How could they treat someone they like with such utter disrespect and rudeness?

"Because they don't know how to express their feelings."

Like an idiot you believed that, and being the naive little girl you were, you kinda started developing a crush on him.

You remember the first time you talked back to him, it's engraved in your head because it was the first time of many to come where his words, and actions, hurt you.

"Just admit you like me Wooyoung! You only tease me cause you're in love with me."

You remember the rage and disgust in his eyes as he shoved you to the ground, making you scrape your knee on the pavement.

"Get this through that dumb brain of yours Y/N....

No one will ever love a dirty little rat like you."

You came home crying that day. Hurt physically and emotionally at his words.

And the years to come weren't better, as you grew up, Wooyoung's bullying towards you escalated.

You hoped that after you graduated high school and started going to university, you'd be free from him, never see him again.

You could finally be happy for once in your life. Focus on your goals and career.

Everything was going great for you!.......

Until you walked into class and found out not only had Wooyoung been accepted to the same university...

He was majoring in the same field as you!

"Hey dirty little rat. Missed me?"

His cocky smile sent shivers down your spine, you were already fearing what he had in store for you.

If you thought high school was hell, it was nowhere near as awful as the torment Wooyoung was now putting on you.

Tripping you down the stairs to the point you had severe injuries.

Writing nasty and derogatory names on your desk that now wouldn't come off and you'd be forced to look at every time you went to class.

One time he went as far as stealing your assignments, ultimately leading to failing an entire semester.

You were so heartbroken and just done with his shit. You felt no more motivation to even continue studying.

Until a cute boy named Yeonjun transferred and took an interest in you.

He was super nice, friendly and not to mention good looking and hella tall.

It was more than obvious too that he wanted establish a relationship with you, anyone and everyone could see that.

Especially Wooyoung and he did not look the way someone else was making you happy.

So he devised a plan, not caring how messed up it was.

He made sure someone convinced you to go to a party he'd be at.

You found it odd that he was suddenly acting super nice to you, not even calling you those mild nicknames he called you in front of others.

And it shocked you even more when he suddenly apologized to you for everything he'd done to you, even offering to talk to your professor about your assignment.

His eyes seemed so sincere, you actually believed him.

Perhaps he finally decided to change, realized his behavior was unnecessary and immature and of course, like an idiot you accepted his apology.

You got wasted for the first time in your life that night and could not remember anything at all.

Until Wooyoung was 'kind' enough to brief you in on what happened.

He pulled out his phone and made you watch a video he had filmed of you two that night.

Your stomach hurled over as you realized it was a fucking sex tape, you and Wooyoung had actually fucked that night.

"What! No no! This couldn't have happened! There's no way!" You refused to believe it.

Wooyoung just smirked at you.

"Oh but it did happen kitten. You were so eager too as the video displays, you kept asking me to go harder, begging me for another round and wanting my cum all over you..."

"I wonder what would the whole school say if I posted it online....especially Yeonjun."

Now you realized what his game was. He was never sorry. It was just another form of him to torture you, and this tipped the scale.

You were so shaken up, you got down on your knees and begged him not to show anyone the video.

"Please Wooyoung! I'll do anything! Anything!"

"Anything?......really? How about becoming mine then?"

And now you were forever tied to your worst nightmare.

Wooyoung especially enjoyed seeing Yeonjun's disappointed and heartbroken look when he announced that you two were now dating.

Now he couldn't even look at you anymore, feeling somewhat betrayed by your actions.

You wanted to tell him you were sorry and explain to him what was going on, but Wooyoung had eyes on you 24/7.

He even made you move in with him and now even your free time had to be spent with him.

You hated living with him.

He not only made sure to verbally abuse you, but actually seemed to have fun causing tiny accidents to happen around you.

His favorite was when he'd peer over your shoulder as you tried to study.

He scoffed. "Why even bother if all you'll ever be good at is spreading your legs?"

Those were his favorite insults: "whore" "slut" "bitch".

One time you were just so fed up with him, that you ended up snapping back.

"Shut the fuck up Wooyoung! You're such an insufferable piece of shit, no wonder your mom left you and your dad back in middle school."

As soon as the words came out, you wanted to swallow them back in.

Wooyoung was livid at your words.

He not only yanked you up by your hair, but he actually threw you to the floor and started kicking you harshly.

He didn't kick you for too long though, he did not want to risk anyone questioning when he told them you fell down the stairs.

And especially not take you to the hospital.

You had no choice but to stay home as you tried to recuperate.

You remember one of those days, you came home from a quick trip to the convenience store and found some girl blowing Wooyoung on the couch.

You weren't fazed. He often brought girls home and fucked them right in front of you.

You just sighed and decided to ignore the shit eating grin he'd give you whenever you caught him.

You decided long ago it wasn't worth it.

You two weren't even dating cause you wanted to.

He just loved controlling you, having power over you, holding something over your head.

He had this obsessive need to make you miserable.

And you hated that you had no choice but to allow it.

Even when there were things you didn't want to do, you had to or he'd once again blackmail you.

The one time you adamantly refused to was when you found out you were pregnant.

Wooyoung was just as shocked as you.

"And you're telling me I'm the father?"

"Uh......I can't have sex with anyone who isn't you, obviously you're the father."

Wooyoung couldn't let you go through with the pregnancy.

"Get rid of it." He told you.

You wrapped a protective hand around your bump.

"No! This is my baby and I won't allow you to harm it!"

You weren't going to budge though.

"Show the tape to everyone! I don't give a fuck anymore! But I'm not killing an innocent child who has done nothing wrong. "

Realizing he was losing control of you, Wooyoung knocked you out unconscious, deciding to take matters into your own hands.

You woke up a day later, feeling sore and aching in your inner thighs and lower abdomen.

You immediately panicked and sensed something was wrong.

You didn't need Wooyoung to tell you, you knew he had taken you to a clinic and had the baby removed.

You were so shaken up, cried your eyes out and no longer had any will to fight against Wooyoung.

You felt like it all all your fault, the death of your baby was your fault.

You weren't strong enough to save it and it was killing you inside.

You no longer trusted anyone, and you didn't have the heart to talk about it to anyone. Not like they'd believe you or care about you.

But someone did notice, Yeonjun never stopped caring about you and although he was hurt you went with someone else, he still had feelings for you.

And he was very observant and noticed that ever since you started dating Wooyoung, you were skipping a lot of classes....

And you were having a lot of accidents...too many in fact.

And now he just saw you completely lost and like a walking dead.

"Hey Y/N, are you ok?" He asked you one day.

You were going to respond, but the devil made an appearance by your side.

"She's fine and was just coming home with me. Weren't you baby?"

To everyone, it looked like a sweet and caring smile from your doting boyfriend, but you knew it was all fake.

Nonetheless you just kept your head low and went home with him.

Yeonjun noticed the way you trembled when he put his arm around you, noticed the frightened look in your eyes and he knew something was wrong in your relationship.

When you got home, Wooyoung was pissed off at you and immediately struck your face.

"I thought I told you not to talk to him! Can't you obey a simple order you fucking bitch?!"

When he pulled out a knife from the kitchen, you were now scared for your life.

You tried to fight back, but Wooyoung was stronger than you and you were still in pain after the abortion.

He knocked you to the floor and managed to land 2 stab wounds into your right side.

You could never forget the wrath and hate in his eyes as he told you:

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

By some miracle, someone taller and stronger than Wooyoung got him off you, that someone being none other than Yeonjun.

He felt glad about following his hunch and followed you both back home, otherwise he'd end up reading about you in the newspaper.

He had no trouble in subduing Wooyoung and calling the police.

The only thing on his mind was getting you to the hospital as soon as possible.

"It's ok Y/N. You're going to be fine." He assured you

Your physical injuries were easy to recover from, but the emotional trauma and abuse Wooyoung put you through was not.

Yet Yeonjun was there every step of the way, going with you to therapy and just listening to you and your terrifying story.

For the first time in your life, you felt truly loved and happy....

And safe.

A year after the ordeal, you were doing much better and were nearly fully recuperated.

Yeonjun and you rented a place together and were completely in love with each other.

Everything seemed to be going perfect....

And then one day your phone rang.

Picking up, you asked "Hello?"

"Don't think it's over yet you dirty little rat."

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Good, the Bad, and the Very Ugly

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Tommy Vega, Nancy Gillian

Summary: When Carlos is struck down with a nasty bout of the stomach flu he needs rescuing from the best paramedic trio in town.

A/N: I have a Bachelor's degree in Emergency!, a Master's Degree in Royal Pains, and an MD in Grey's Anatomy so I can assure you that everything in this fic represents a very real, accurate depiction of how the stomach flu would hit a perfectly healthy young police officer. I took no liberties. This is science.

Massive thanks as always to @bluenet13​ for beta-ing!

For the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt “Stomach Flu”

Read on AO3

Carlos was really trying to listen to this woman complain about her neighbors and their noise level, he truly was. He took every call seriously, even completely ridiculous ones like this, but today he was struggling. His stomach gurgled unpleasantly and he had to suppress a burp as the woman told him for the third time about how loud her neighbors were being.

“Ma’am, they are allowed to mow their lawn during daylight hours,” he said.

“Seven am?! Seven am is considered daylight hours?!” the woman cried. “I am trying to do my morning meditations and all I hear is lawnmowers and power tools!”

“Well then I would try headphones,” Carlos said, voice a little snappier than usual. 

Mitchell looked at him with raised eyebrows, clearly amused by the lack of his typical diplomacy. 

The woman glared at him. “I want your badge numbers.”

Carlos and Mitchell both gave them over willingly but it was another ten minutes of listening to her rant before they were finally able to escape and head back to the station. “You all right Reyes?” Mitchell asked as they got back into the cruiser. “You look a little green.”

“I’m fine,” Carlos said, even as his stomach lurched unpleasantly while he pulled the cruiser into traffic.

“You were a little snippy back there. Trouble in paradise?”

“T.K. and I are fine,” Carlos said. “That woman was in the wrong, there was no point in standing there and continuing the conversation.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Who are you and what have you done with Carlos ‘Calm and Patient’ Reyes?”

“Maybe he’s on vacation today,” Carlos told her.

“Mhmm…” she continued to look at him suspiciously, but didn’t say anymore.

His stomach had not improved by the time they got back to the precinct. In fact it seemed to be getting worse. Everything was bubbling and gurgling and cramping and making him extremely uncomfortable, but he set his jaw and sat at his desk to file the paperwork from their morning on patrol.

“Reyes, Mitchell,” their captain walked over and stood by their desks. “I’ve been on the phone for half an hour with a Mrs. Donnelly. Care to explain?”

Mitchell shook her head and rolled her eyes. “She called in a noise complaint. Lawnmowers.”

Carlos would have added to the conversation but he was growing oddly hot and his mouth had filled with coppery tasting saliva. 

“She said you were,” the captain held up a piece of paper and read directly from it, “disrespectful, unhelpful, and bigoted.”

Mitchell snorted. “Okay. Was she describing us or herself? Because I’m pretty sure she ticks all those boxes.”

The captain turned and looked at Carlos. “Reyes? Anything to say?”

Carlos opened his mouth and then closed it again, swallowing hard. “Carlos are you okay?” Mitchell asked with a concerned frown.

Carlos’s stomach squeezed and he knew there was no hope for it. “Excuse me,” he said, then turned and threw up directly into the garbage can beside his desk.

“Whoa!” their captain said. “Reyes what the hell?”

Carlos spat into the garbage can, the acrid taste of stomach acid burning his throat, mouth, and even up into his nose. “Sorry sir,” he choked out.

Mitchell uncapped a bottle of water and handed it to him. He took a careful sip, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing tentatively. Somehow he felt worse than before throwing up; slightly cold and shaky, and like he might throw up again. 

“Reyes if you’re sick get out of here and go home,” his captain said. “We don’t need you bringing the whole bull pen down.”

“I’m fine sir,” he said and then blanched, doubling over the garbage can again. 

“No you’re not. Get out of here. And don’t come back until you can keep your lunch down,” his captain ordered.

“Carlos are you okay?” Mitchell asked, genuine concern on her face. “You look terrible.”

“I’ll be fine,” Carlos rasped. “It’s probably just something I ate.”

“Looks more like it ate you,” Mitchell said with a grimace as he got to his feet. “Do you want me to call you an Uber?”

“No,” Carlos shook his head, gripping the desk tightly. “I can make it.”

“Well text me when you get home so I know you’re okay,” she said. 

Thank god he only lived fifteen minutes from the station because the drive was so nauseatingly horrible he wasn’t sure he could have made it much longer. His stomach clenched and tightened at regular intervals and he was breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth like it was his job because he really didn’t want to pull over and be sick on the side of the road.

He pulled into the driveway and got his key out with shaky hands, stumbling in the front door and practically falling into the powder room where he once again violently emptied his stomach into the toilet. God, how could there be anything left after the first two rounds? He’d barely had anything to eat besides coffee and half a bagel.

He groaned as he pushed himself up and flushed the toilet, using the sink for leverage to get all the way onto his feet. He felt like shit. He hadn’t felt this bad in…well he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this bad.

He knew he needed to hydrate before he went upstairs and collapsed into his bed so he slowly and agonizingly made his way to the fridge, searching for a Gatorade, his stomach still sending stabbing pains through his gut at regular intervals.

There were footsteps on the stairs and T.K. appeared, uniform half buttoned. “Carlos? Babe what are you doing here?”

Carlos looked at his watch. It was nearly noon but he’d forgotten that T.K. had a late shift today. “Captain sent me home,” Carlos said, struggling to reach an orange Gatorade tucked in the back.

“He sent you home?” T.K. walked toward him, confusion on his face. “Why? What’s going on?”

Carlos straightened up, wincing as his stomach cramped violently. “He thinks I’m sick.”

“He thinks you’re sick?” T.K. repeated, taking a step closer. “Why does he think you’re sick?”

Carlos grimaced. “Probably because I narrowly missed throwing up on his shoes.”

“You threw up?” T.K. snapped into paramedic mode, automatically pressing the back of his hand to Carlos’ forehead to check for a fever. “Oh baby.”

“It’s fine. Probably something I ate.”

“Do you want me to stay home today and take care of you?”

“God no,” Carlos said quickly. The last thing he wanted was for T.K. to see him puking his guts out repeatedly. “No I’m just going to get in bed and ride it out. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

His stomach felt like knives but surely a nap and some electrolytes would take care of that. “Are you sure?” T.K. asked, running a hand down his arm. “I hate to leave you like this.”

“I can take care of myself T.K., even when I’m sick,” Carlos said. “I promise,” he added when T.K. didn’t look convinced.  “I’m just going to go upstairs and sleep it off.”

“Well make sure you hydrate,” T.K. told him. “I’ll call you in a couple hours to check in.” He pecked Carlos on the cheek. “If you need something text me okay? I’ll keep my phone on me.” He said as he walked toward the door, grabbing his overnight bag and shoes. 

“I will. Have a good shift,” Carlos said.

He waited until T.K. had locked the front door to drag himself up the stairs. He fell into the bed and curled himself into the fetal position, begging his stomach to stop its agonizing assault.

The hours passed in alternating blurs of fast and slow. He was hot and then freezing, his body aching, stomach churning relentlessly. Even the Gatorade refused to stay down, sending him staggering to the bathroom to heave up the liquid and then, eventually, nothing.

He tried to read but he was too restless and even the television couldn’t keep his focus as wave after wave of agonizing stomach pain assaulted him. 

He attempted sleep but it was fraught with discomfort; half awake, half dreaming, too hot and then too cold, body tangling uncomfortably in the sheets, never fully sinking into the blissful darkness of true unconsciousness.

He was dragged out of his misery after several hours by the ringing of his phone. “Hello?” he croaked when he finally managed to answer.

“Hey babe, how are you feeling?” T.K.’s voice was slightly distorted, it sounded like he was in the rig. 

Carlos cleared his throat. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” T.K. asked. “You sound weird.”

“I was sleeping,” Carlos told him, wincing as pain stabbed at his stomach again.

“Oh good,” T.K. said. “Did you eat something?”

Carlos grew nauseated at even the mention of food. “Not yet.”

“Well try okay? Some crackers or some soup or something?”

“Yeah I will,” Carlos told him. He would not. He didn’t think he could make it down the stairs let alone manage to scrounge up any food. 

Carlos heard the siren turn on. “I have to go. Call or text if you need anything all right? I love you!”

“Love you too,” Carlos mumbled, his eyes already sliding closed.

The next time he woke it was the middle of the night and he felt worse. So much worse. How was that even possible?

His stomach clenched so tightly that he couldn’t breathe. He moaned as he struggled to his feet again, the world spinning around him as he walked unsteadily toward the bathroom, using the furniture to stabilize himself.

He leaned over the toilet bowl stomach cramping and stabbing at him, but nothing came up. Instead he just retched helplessly for god knew how long until the episode passed and he collapsed onto the tile, shaky and sore and freezing. 

He swallowed hard, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes, praying that whatever this was, it would be over soon.

Several Hours Later…

T.K. hung up his phone and sighed, checking his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. It was nearing seven am and he hadn’t heard from his boyfriend in a long time. He was starting to get worried, even as he tried to convince himself he was overreacting. It was early. Carlos was probably still asleep.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked.

T.K. looked down at the screen again, as if possibly a call or text had come through in the three seconds since he’d last checked. “Carlos was sick when I left yesterday morning and now he’s not answering. I figured maybe he was asleep but it’s been…a really long time.”

“Do you want to swing by?” Tommy asked. “It’s on our way back to the firehouse if we take the long way around.”

T.K. vacillated with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah dude, we’ll just swing by and make sure he’s okay. Can’t have you worrying about him for the rest of shift,” Nancy said.

T.K. hit the blinker and turned them right. “I’m probably overreacting.”

“Then Carlos will smile and thank you for it like the good, understanding person that he is,” Tommy said with a smile.

The house was quiet when they pulled up. T.K. felt his concern double as he took his key out and strode quickly to the front door. “We’ll wait here,” Tommy said when they reached the stoop. “Call if you need us.”

T.K. left the front door open behind him and strode upstairs. “Carlos?”

There was no answer and T.K. knew, deep in his bones that something was wrong. The bedroom door was open, but the the bed was empty, sheets and blankets mussed in a way that said Carlos had at one point been there, even if he wasn’t anymore.

The smell of vomit and sweat hung in the air. A barely touched bottle of Gatorade and Carlos’ phone sat on the nightstand. “Carlos!” T.K. called again more urgently.

“T.K.?” 

The reply was croaky, weak and T.K. turned in the direction of the master bath. What he found hit him like a punch in the gut. Carlos, in nothing but his boxers, sweating and shivering as he sat on the floor, his back pressed against the bathroom wall. 

T.K. dropped to his knees, hands running over Carlos’ forehead and down his face, fear spiking as the heat of Carlos’ skin seared his own. “Hey baby,” he said softly. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“T.K. I don’t—I can’t—” Carlos looked panicky beneath his exhaustion and T.K.’s stomach clenched in fear.

“Cap!” he yelled out the door, voice cracking. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re going to help you all right? How long have you been here like this?”

Carlos just shook his head, all his effort apparently going into breathing and remaining conscious.

“T.K.!” Tommy and Nancy appeared in the bathroom doorway, both of them looking concerned. 

“He’s burning up,” T.K. said, panic seeping into his voice.

“Nancy, call it in,” Tommy ordered. “And go get our kits from the rig.”

“Dispatch this is RA Unit 126 responding to a call at 540 Lynwood Avenue,” Nancy said into her radio as she flew out the door.

“Let’s get him on the bed,” Tommy said, getting under one of Carlos’ arms as T.K. scrambled to get under his other side.

Carlos moaned as they walked him out of the bathroom. “I know, I know baby, you’re okay,” T.K. said, voice thick as Carlos shivered violently against him. 

Nancy returned quickly, pulling equipment out of their kits as T.K. and Tommy gently laid Carlos on the bed.

“T.K. check his pulse,” Tommy ordered. “Nancy get a BP.”

Thank god someone else was taking over and telling him what to do because he felt completely shattered right now by the image of his strong, beautiful boyfriend reduced to such a fragile state. “Pulse is rapid,” T.K. said, his own heart rate matching it as Carlos’ eyelids fluttered. 

“BP is low,” Nancy said.

“And temp is up,” Tommy said, lifting the thermometer to look at the reading. “One hundred and two point seven. Carlos, can you hear me?”

There was no response and T.K. thought he was going to lose his mind with panic.

“No rebound tenderness,” Nancy said, palpating Carlos’ abdomen. He let out a moan as she pressed directly on his stomach but she continued her exam with professional precision. “Belly is soft. I don’t think it’s appendicitis.”

“I think we’re looking at a severe case of dehydration,” Tommy said. “Let’s get some fluids going.”

“I got it,” Nancy said, pulling out bags of saline and potassium. 

“Should we take him in?” T.K. asked.

“Let’s just see how the fluids go first,” Tommy said. “I’m sure Carlos would prefer to avoid the hospital, let’s give him a chance to come back on his own.”

The next few minutes were agonizingly long as Nancy and Tommy started the IV’s and they all waited to see if Carlos would come around. He wasn’t completely unconscious but he wasn’t totally with it either, breath coming out labored and harsh, limbs moving restlessly, eyelids fluttering up and down as his head turned from side to side.

T.K. stroked his fingers through Carlos’ damp, sweaty curls, biting his lip as anxiety and guilt ate away at him. “I thought he was all right by himself,” he said. “If I’d known…”

“T.K. this isn’t anybody’s fault,” Tommy said, reaching to take Carlos’ pulse again. “Sometimes it just happens. Carlos is young and healthy, nobody had any reason to suspect he would go down so hard.”

“Yeah dude, you can’t blame yourself for the violence of the stomach flu,” Nancy said, adjusting the IV’s.

Carlos stirred a little more and blinked a few times, eyes trying to focus. T.K. instantly went on alert. “Carlos, babe? Can you hear me?”

“T.K.?” Carlos shifted, and T.K. put a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him from dislodging the IV’s. 

“Hey Carlos,” Tommy said, giving him a smile. “How are you feeling?”

Carlos groaned and swallowed hard. “Bad,” he croaked. 

“Well we’ve got some fluids going, that should help. Give it a few more minutes and we’ll see how you feel,” Tommy said. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“I uh, I don’t know,” Carlos said. “My stomach just…I couldn’t stop throwing up. And after a while I couldn’t even get off the floor, everything just hurt and I was so cold. I think maybe I passed out a couple times, I’m not sure.”

T.K.’s heart squeezed at the thought of Carlos alone and suffering on the cold bathroom tile. “Do you remember the last time you ate or drank anything?” he asked.

“Nothing stays down,” Carlos croaked, his voice weak and raspy after so many hours of throwing up. “Makes my stomach hurt.” 

“Baby you should have called me,” T.K. admonished him, tears dangerously close to the surface. 

“T.K.,” Tommy said quietly. “Give him a minute to catch his breath. Save the lecture for later.”

Carlos seemed to grow even more aware of the situation and closed his eyes. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Nancy asked.

“This,” Carlos said, gesturing aimlessly with his hand. “This is…”

“Hey, nothing to be sorry for,” Tommy said reassuringly. “Happens to the best of us. The twins both had a stomach bug last year at the same time and it was a total nightmare.” She gave him a smile and then turned back to her team. “Nancy, why don’t you and I head downstairs and get Carlos some Gatorade? We’ll call the station too and tell them we’ll be a little longer.”

“He uh, he likes the orange ones,” T.K. said.

Tommy put a hand on T.K.’s shoulder and squeezed. “Orange it is.”

They both slipped out of the room leaving Carlos and T.K. alone. “Babe what happened?” T.K. asked, still stroking Carlos’ curls. “When I called before you said you were okay.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Carlos said. “It wasn’t so bad and then…it was.”

“I’m so sorry, I should never have left you like this,” T.K. said.

“T.K. I took care of myself just fine before you came along.”

“Yes and using the current situation as evidence it’s a miracle you survived.” T.K. was unable to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“T.K.” Carlos tried to sit up, but T.K. shook his head and pressed him back down into the bed. 

“No, no. Do not try and take care of me. I’m here to take care of you. Just rest okay?”

“Are you going to make me go to the hospital?” Carlos asked.

“We’ll see,” T.K. told him. “You really, really scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” T.K. bent over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “This isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault.”

Tommy and Nancy returned, Gatorade in hand. “Any better Carlos?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Carlos said.

It had been about forty minutes since they’d arrived and Carlos was less pale and more alert, but he still didn’t look well. “Are you just saying that so T.K. stops freaking out?” Nancy asked knowingly. “Because T.K. is always going to freak out so you may as well just be honest.”

“Bedside manner Nancy,” Tommy said lightly as she uncapped the Gatorade. “Carlos do you think you can sit up?”

He nodded and T.K. and Nancy helped slide him up against the pillows until he was propped up enough to sip at the Gatorade. He eyed the bottle nervously as Tommy uncapped it. “Just a couple sips,” Tommy said. “If you can’t keep it down we’ll take you to the ER and have them run some more tests. My guess is this is just a particularly violent strain of stomach flu, but I don’t want to leave unless we’re sure you’re on the mend.”

Carlos’ hand shook as he raised the bottle to his lips and he grimaced as he took one small sip and then another, managing a couple tablespoons before the bottle tipped dangerously in his unsteady hand.

T.K. reached out and caught it, removing it gently from Carlos’ fingers and setting it on the nightstand.

“Temp is down to one oh two point one,” Nancy said.

“And your blood pressure is looking better too,” Tommy said. “How’s your stomach?”

“It still hurts,” Carlos said, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

“But you’re keeping the Gatorade down, so that’s good,” T.K. said, trying to comfort himself as much as his boyfriend.

“I don’t think a hospital trip is necessary unless it would make you feel better to go,” Tommy said.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Carlos said firmly.

“He can’t stay here alone,” T.K. argued.

“Which is why you’re staying with him,” Tommy said smoothly. “Shift’s almost over, you’re already here, there’s no point in dragging you back to the station.”

“Yeah don’t worry about it,” Nancy said. “We all know Cap and I do the heavy lifting on this team anyway. We don’t need your manly self getting in the way. Girl power and all that.”

“Nancy,” Tommy sighed in exasperation.

“I’m just kidding!” Nancy said. “Don’t worry about it Strand, we got you covered.”

“T.K.,” Tommy nodded toward the corner of the room and T.K. left the bed to follow her as Nancy chatted at Carlos and packed up their equipment. “I’m going to leave another bag of saline with you, just in case. If his fever spikes again or his abdominal pain increases…”

“I’ll take him in,” T.K. said immediately.

“And you’ll call me,” Tommy said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “And call me tomorrow regardless. Let me know how he’s doing.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for everything.”

“You’re family T.K., you and Carlos. We do what we need to for family.”

T.K. walked Tommy and Nancy to the door and then spent a few minutes downstairs heating up some plain chicken broth before returning to the bedroom. “Still okay?” he asked as he set the bowl down on the nightstand. 

Carlos nodded. “Beyond embarrassed, but okay.”

“Stop it,” T.K. said as he settled on the edge of the bed next to him. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m pretty sure having to be carried to your own bed in your underwear by your boyfriend and his teammates is embarrassment worthy,” Carlos said.

His voice still sounded rough and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Just looking at him made T.K.’s heart hurt. He wanted nothing more than to take away every second of his pain from the last twenty four hours. 

“They’re just glad you’re all right,” T.K. told him, knowing that was one hundred percent the case. His teammates were truly the best and had proved that once again tonight with the way they’d dropped everything to come to Carlos’ aid. “Besides, we’ve seen plenty of bodies in the field. That they got an eyeful of you…they’ve seen a lot worse. Trust me.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t really make me feel better.”

“Sorry,” T.K. said, rubbing his knee through the sheets. “I think you should try and eat something.”

Carlos grimaced. “My stomach still hurts.”

“But you haven’t thrown up in,” T.K. checked his watch, “thirty seven minutes. I think it’s worth a shot.”

He still looked hesitant. “Hey,” T.K. said. ���I’m here now. I’m going to take care of you. What happened earlier won’t happen again, I promise. Just try? Please?”

He picked up the bowl and spoon, offering them to his boyfriend. Carlos reluctantly took hold, hands still not quite steady, so T.K. helped him hold it. He managed about a third of the bowl before handing the bowl back to T.K. “Happy?” he asked tiredly.

“I won’t be happy until you’re better,” T.K. told him. 

Carlos nodded in agreement. “Me neither.”

“How does a bath sound, hm?” T.K. asked. “I’ll put in some essential oils, you can just relax and let some of today go.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Carlos said.

“I want to,” T.K. said. “Let me take care of you, okay? It makes me feel better too.”

“Okay,” Carlos relented. “Yes, a bath sounds good.”

T.K. leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Carlos spent about half an hour in the bathtub. T.K. used that time to change out of his uniform and do a little bit of cleaning and sanitizing in the bedroom and bathroom. He returned the soup bowl to the kitchen and started the dishwasher, gathering up a few things Carlos might need and then heading back upstairs.

Carlos was standing by his dresser, slowly pulling on a pair of sweatpants, clearly in discomfort. “Whoa,” T.K. set everything down quickly and then moved to stabilize him. “You should have called me.”

“I don’t like feeling helpless,” Carlos said, frustration lacing his tone.

“I know,” T.K. said, gently moving him back toward the bed. “But you’re going to get some sleep now and when you wake up I think you’re going to feel a lot better.”

“What if I feel like this forever?” Carlos asked miserably.

“You won’t,” T.K. smoothed a hand over his forehead. “Your captain called while I was downstairs. Apparently this bug has swept through your whole department. At least twenty people have called out sick and five have been hospitalized. You all got hit with a pretty violent stomach bug. But it seems like a forty-eight hour thing; most of them are on the mend.”

“Oh god,” Carlos said. “I should call him back.”

“I told him you were out of commission,” T.K. told him. “He said to feel better.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “No he didn’t.”

“Okay,” T.K. said. “Technically he said, ‘Nobody who’s barfed their guts out in the last day is allowed in the office without a doctor’s note.’ But I think the sentiment was the same.”

“That sounds about right.”

He grimaced as he settled under the covers. “Come here,” T.K. said, sliding in next to him and pulling his head into his lap, fingers running gently through his hair. “Close your eyes.”

Carlos did so, body relaxing into T.K.’s touch. “I love you,” T.K. said quietly. “So much.”

“How can you say that after you just cleaned up my vomit?” Carlos asked, eyes still closed.

“Because that’s what love is,” T.K. told him. “Love is being here with you. Through it all. Every day. For every moment. The good, the bad—“

“And the very ugly,” Carlos murmured.

“You’re far too pretty to be ugly,” T.K. assured him. “Even when you’re barfing.”

“Oh god stop,” Carlos moaned. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

“Go to sleep,” T.K. told him again. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. And I will happily clean up your blood, your sweat, your tears, and your puke every day for the rest of my life if I need to.”

Carlos cracked an eyelid. “I know you’re trying to be sweet, but that’s pretty disgusting.”

T.K. shrugged. “Like I said before, I’ve seen a LOT on calls. You can’t scare me off Carlos Reyes.”

Carlos closed his eyes and snuggled closer into T.K. “Good to know.”

[bisexualsforprompto]

The Burden of the Bond Pt. 2

So sorry it took so long guys! Hope it’s worth the wait :)

Also I just need to say a few things!!!!!!

1. OMFG GUYS!!!! Tomorrow (October 5th) marks a WHOLE YEAR OF MY WRITING! I’m absolutely thrilled, sharing my writing with all of you has absolutely made me a better person and writer. I’m more confident thanks to all of you ❤️

2. School has been kicking my ass recently and reading all of your comments on the first part of this when I went to see who asked to be tagged made my day and honestly, has made me be able to smile and forgot about all my stress for a little while

TLDR: I love you all so very much ❤️ now enjoy!!!!!

Part one

After walking through Gotham for only a few weeks Marinette had already adjusted her routine and mannerisms. Every time she took a step in the dark, gloomy city was a step closer to danger.

In a way, it was almost training for her. A reminder to stay on her guard. That no matter what could happen to her in this godforsaken city, there was still a threat looming out there that was far worse.

Sucking in a breath, Marinette began to take a casual stroll down the street, on the lookout for any signs of trouble.

The longer she stayed in Gotham the more she realized that she stuck out like a sore thumb. Not because of her dirty clothes, that was normal here, in fact if she ever had worn something else (like clothes she used to sketch out back when she wanted to go into design) she might’ve stuck out even more. No, it was because of how she acted.

Timid and meek, caring at times, always letting others push through her. She was nothing like the shrewd Gothamites who thrived off of the cruelty they were forced to show. How odd that a place could do that to a person. Harden them past the point of no return. Marinette could feel the darkness emitting from Gotham the moment she arrived, it almost shook her. Though, she had experienced far more darkness…

After so long of running in constant fear and never treated better than a mere extra in a movie, one would think Marinette would’ve made a tougher exterior for herself, and yet, she stayed soft in some ways. To blend in though, she realized that would have to change.

Gathering some Gotham standard courage and abrasion, Marinette squirmed her way through a large crowd walking down a bustling street. When she was gifted with glares and some obscenities she knew she was getting all the better at hiding in the crowd.

She breathed in the polluted air and let out a sigh as she walked past a somewhat abandoned looking bakery. It seemed to be filled with cobwebs inside, and it had a rather dilapidated exterior, but it still managed to make Marinette’s heart ache.

She thought of the days in the bakery with her parents...they were warm and loving. Her dad smelled like bread and flour while her mother always seemed to smell of flowers and pastries. She could almost breathe in their soothing scents now.

Blinking back tears, she took a shaky breath. Leaving them was necessary for both their safety and her own. She couldn’t put it past Damian to go after her family.

It didn’t make leaving hurt any less though…

Taking a deep breath inwards, Marinette focused back on those days. Spilling flour all over herself, laughing with her old friends, making quasi dresses for her dolls. She set on a relieved smile, the memories were one thing that he could never take away from her. Not that all of them were pleasant, but even the bad times still made her wish she was back in Paris.

Sometimes Marinette wondered where she would be if she had a different soulmate, or even had none. Maybe she could’ve been a designer, the thought made her chest flutter, she still had a small passion for fashion.

Reflecting on her past hobby, Marinette let out a contented sigh. She closed her eyes for a split second before realizing she was still in front of the bakery, simply standing in front of the window.

She shook herself out of it and chastised herself for not staying vigilant. She continued walking down the street, taking in the different sights and sounds. Hyperfocusing on the people leisurely walking down the sidewalk, scanning for familiar faces, remembering that recognizing one could spell her doom.

Clenching her hands into fists, Marinette ventured on. She found herself near one of Gotham’s many dark alleys.

The occasional noise from an alley was expected, but Marinette was certainly not expecting a blood curdling scream.

The busy street kept moving however, nobody sparing even a look to where the sound had come from.

Marinette stopped in her tracks, earning her dirty looks from those behind her.

“Help me! Someone help me, please!” A feminine voice cried out.

Marinette began to peer down the alley, but wasn’t able to get a good look at what was going down.

“S-shouldn't someone help them?” She asked shyly, almost to herself.

The question gave a myriad of responses, but each eye roll, scoff, “Batman will come soon,” and chuckle gave the same answer; don’t bother.

Another scream came from the alley.

Logically, Marinette knew if there was a real problem, she wouldn’t be much help, but yet something in her wanted to move.

Whimpers and yelps followed, Marinette still dumbfounded and stuck in place.

She grit her teeth as she wondered what to do.

Should she try to help? Should she run in the other direction?

The choice seemed murky to her, but before she knew it…

Her feet moved on their own.

Tags <3:

@theg0ddesspersephone @pawsitivelymiraculous @redscarlet95 @animegirlweeb @i-am-ironic @thatonecroc @enternalempires @miracleofdisaster @lunerlover2024 @purplegeekypanda @dwomegafx @our-preciousss @dnsakina @frieddonutsweets @kris-pines04 @2confused-2doanything @myazael @danielslilangel @neromerp13 @indecisive-mess-named-me @lilkymilky @para-dox-normal @dast218 @bee-wrecker @prudencerka @junarvion @trippingovermyfeet t @jeminiikrystal @fusser90 @vixen-uchiha @flyingfish3 @deepestobservationwombat @lilyreadbooks12 @readingalldaysleepingallnight @sassakitty @velvetterabby @rethyo @princertain @alysrose-starchild @moongoddesskiana @kass-is-weird @faunrasthewinterelf @maskedpainter

[lucas-koh]

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XVI

Choices: Open Heart; Part 1-15 in bio.

Rating: M, implied sex, swearing

Song: My Own - Whitaker

Word Count: 3380

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @choicesficwriterscreations @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @bubblelaureno @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa @kingkassam || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Sixteen: Scarred

Suki didn’t need to hear any more. There was no explaining away this one. She’d asked the question and his answer was simple. So I am just a body to you? Yes.

Her gaze fell to the floor and her feet felt cemented there even though all she wanted to do was run away. She kept trying and trying but they wouldn’t budge. Noise was all one big long beep fizzling around her ears and her vision was a big blurry mess, despite the tears clinging on for dear life at the bottom of her lashes.

But she didn’t need to move. Bryce already had. She saw as the blurred shapes of his legs removed themselves from her peripheral and she could picture each step in her mind, each one another stab to her chest.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, swaying in the growing dark, the tears still gripping on obstinately to her lash line.

And it seemed she made it home on autopilot, because the next thing she knew she was unlocking her front door and gliding through to her bedroom. If anyone was around in the communal areas, she wouldn’t have been able to tell because nothing was registering.

She also seemed to manage to undress and slide into pyjamas in smooth movements, eyes barely blinking and mouth set slightly parted. She hadn’t bothered to turn the light on, just a small window of grey sky illuminating the room ever so slightly.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth, trying not to think too much about the time Bryce had done this for her. She didn’t even look in the mirror as she did so.

It wasn’t until Suki cradled herself into bed and laid to one side, the space Bryce often occupied empty in front of her, that she finally began to cry.

She felt out to the space, the smooth cotton kind of stinging beneath her still-cold hands, like that would somehow let him know she was thinking of him. That she was sorry. Sorry that she went and fucked up and caught feelings. Sorry that she acted on impulse. The empty space never usually felt like a problem, probably because she knew it would be occupied at some point or another. And now it wouldn’t be. She slowly turned her hand over, looking at her scars in the dim light. And she just cried more. Because it was a reminder of Bryce seared into her skin forever. The puckered skin a neat example of Bryce’s careful and thoughtful stitches. The red disappearing scabs a beacon of how she’d messed it all up.

His stitches hadn’t scarred just her hand, but her heart, too.

She wasn’t even meant to feel anything for him, but mistakes were made. She wasn’t even sure she ever felt like it was a good idea, even from the start, just that she wanted him. She had been helpless to stop the unforgiving want.

But as she grew to want him in the other way, he’d stayed the same.

This was nothing like the time Bryce had been funny about the surgery, or when she’d been worried about what she’d heard him say to Ben. This was different. This was real and definite and final. No chance of miscommunication. She’d worried��knew to some extent—that how she felt was one sided, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

She was embarrassed. Because even if she’d been right about him not feeling the same, she’d still believed he at least cared for her as a friend. Just like the rest of the group. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

There was definitely a sense of frustration that he’d been pissed at her for lying, but in admitting that she was only a fuck to him and not a friend, he’d revealed he’d been lying since she asked him about it.

Her throat hurt as she tried to cry silently. She couldn’t believe how badly everything had got fucked up. She found herself wishing that the space next to her was occupied. She didn’t even want the sex. She wanted the intimacy. Just Bryce next to her. His stupid fucking grin and his eyes like chasms she’d trip and fall down with just a word—just the thought of hearing her name on his lips triggered a chorus of ‘Why, Suki?’ and she was in even more desperate tears. No ‘Sukes’, no ‘Santa Fe’, and her full name normally sounded like heaven—but.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there wallowing. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep until she woke up with the sore, crusty eyes and a wet pillow. Pathetic. He wasn’t even anything to me. I hate that I made myself feel this way.

—-

The next few days were a big blend of work, coming home to stare at a wall, and eventually needing to eat.

This shouldn’t have fucked her up as much as it was, but it had. She’d lost a friend above anything else. Or, who she thought was a friend.

And she wished that maybe this had happened sooner, before she got too sucked in. But then she realised. She’d always been screwed. The entire time.

She hadn’t even considered previously that they’d had an emotional bond before they even had a good chance at being only fuck buddies. When they’d kissed in the supply closet all those months ago, it was sealed. Her tears had been drying on her cheeks as he’d kissed her desperately, tasting them and consuming her misery. For her, anyway. She should’ve read the signs, let herself stay away from the inevitable heartbreak.

And yes, Suki got sick. So she was sick and heartbroken all at once. She had to take a couple of days off, and all she did was hole up in her room and pop out occasionally to cook up a meal from the freezer. Thank god she was always prepared.

One day she was unfortunate enough to enter the kitchen while Jackie was already there, eating a sandwich at the table.

“Hey,” she smiled, she knew Suki was sick so Suki assumed that was what the sympathetic look on her face was about.

“Hi,” Suki replied meekly, before pulling out some cold pizza from the fridge and digging in to a slice.

“Aren’t those sweatpants a bit big for you?” Jackie asked. Suki forgot she’d been living in Bryce’s hoodie and sweatpants she’d stolen at Christmas. She was currently in an old t shirt of her own and said sweatpants which definitely were a tad big.

“No,” Suki groaned through her mouthful of pizza.

“Okay, what is up? Any time you’re at the apartment you’ve been moping and barely taking care of yourself, you haven’t even noticed me when I’ve said hi to you at the hospital. I know you’re sick but... I don’t know. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Jackie. I guess I just hate February.”

“No… there’s something wrong. Is this a bad time of year for you?”

She looked at Jackie properly for the first time in the conversation, concern laced in her typically brusque face. It was a bit of an impasse. Telling Jackie would probably screw things up further, especially given how close she was with Bryce. If she was being honest, Suki had no idea if Bryce had confronted Jackie about the whole thing. If she was being honest, she didn’t want to know. If Bryce hadn’t chastised Jackie, then Suki knew the whole thing had been about her, and he really had meant that the fact they were sleeping together changed things. Of course if he had, that would mean that Suki wasn’t special at all. She couldn’t win.

Was indifference worse than resentment?

“Something like that,” she gave a small sad smile. Jackie nodded understandingly, and Suki knew she wouldn’t press.

“Here,” Jackie patted the chair beside her, clearing off the last of her sandwich in the other hand. Suki didn’t really want to sit down and chat—she’d been hoping to hole up in her room all day again—but at this point that would be rude. So she reluctantly slid into the chair. “So, I need to ask you a question.”

Suddenly Suki’s head whirred with all the possible things Jackie could be curious about, but all they landed on was Bryce. Had she somehow found out they’d been sleeping together? Or, did she know those sweatpants were his? What if Bryce had confronted her about the whole thing and that was this? All questions lead to him. And that made her seriously nervous. She didn’t want to talk about him, she didn’t want to think about him. Even though that seemed all she could do these days.

“Okay…”

“So after the whole I-stopped-you-from-hitting-a-surgical-intern thing, did you maybe… go back and do it?”

Suki balked, she wasn’t expecting this. “No? What do you mean?”

“I saw the two of them sporting matching black eyes, I wondered if—”

“No.” Suki was surprised by the revelation, because it certainly hadn’t been her.

“Oh. Alright. I suppose he’s probably just a dick generally, then. I’m glad, I’m still shocked they didn’t report us.”

Although Jackie might’ve been right—he might’ve just been an ass in some other situation—Suki couldn’t help but feel there was some connection. Maybe Landry was pissed they’d given him away? No, he didn’t seem the type. She didn’t really feel like asking the guy, but the situation was curious to her. Hopefully there’d be enough gossip once she was back at work to figure it out.

“Fred’s nose is fine, by the way. I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this,” Jackie said as she looked at the table; affection was something she was still getting her head around.

Suki nodded, she was glad she hadn’t broken anyone. Because she had been feeling a little guilty, even if he had deserved it. That feeling paled in comparison to how it had affected things with Bryce, though.

—-

The following days, months, indeterminate amount of time were hell for Bryce too.

He’d taken it too far. He could’ve let her down more gently. But she was too forgiving, too loyal, and she would’ve still been there for him—he couldn’t have that. Fucking hell, she would’ve probably bought him soup about the fact he’d rejected her if he’d been soft about it. And shit, he adored her for it.

He felt so incredibly guilty because he could see he’d hurt her. Those words cut like a knife for so many reasons. First, he looked like he only cared about getting in her pants and it hurt him that that meant every meaningful moment they shared became just another way to fuck her. Second, it had been a direct contradiction to what he’d told her before when she’d asked him the same question—and he’d insisted they were friends. Third, he was sure he’d done it at the worst possible time. Just when he was starting to feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in this. Like the way she looked at him meant what he wanted it to mean. And yes, that was why it had to happen, but it also meant he’d probably hurt her even more.

Shit, he wished he didn’t hurt her at all. Ever. He wished she could always be okay, he wished she could brush it off. But he knew she couldn’t. Even if he meant nothing to her—something he didn’t know the answer to—the way Suki was as a person would mean she’d be upset no matter what. She was thoughtful, loving, and empathetic. He’d seen that time and time again. Even if she didn’t like him the way he liked her, the fact of losing a friend was enough for her. And he was beating himself up nonstop for letting things get to the point where he would hurt her. Had hurt her.

Part of Bryce had wanted those idiots to report him for hitting Ben, some sort of sadistic payback for what he’d done to Suki. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t, but at least he still had work to pour himself into. That was his only solace. The thing he loved the most. Or, historically had.

Although he truly fell for Suki at Halloween, he was also of the belief that there’d been some odd emotional bond from the very start. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it before. All the flirting, the desire to be near her, the way she made him feel. It was clinging to the familiar, the concentrated girl from college who he’d shared a moment with, whom he’d felt compelled to comfort that day. They were fucked before they even tried.

—-

If Suki had any hope of things fixing themselves after some time, that was gone when the months dragged on by with no word. It was easier than she expected to avoid friend outings:

I’m so tired.

I’m working really early tomorrow.

I’m actually working.

I’m trying to drink less.

And that seemed enough for the moment. She had picked up enough extra shifts that most of the time she really was working her ass off. Aurora knew what had happened, being Suki’s one confidant, and helped along with the excuses and avoiding. Aurora was… less than happy with Bryce but never said anything at Suki’s request. She did, however, disapprove of the way Suki was handling things.

“You can’t let this mean you avoid all your friends,” she’d said one day after trying to drag Suki out of her bedroom to Donahue’s. Suki had been grateful that Aurora hadn’t said ‘I told you so’. Even if she had been right.

“I live with you guys. It’s only him who’s extra, anyway.”

“Don’t you think it might be nice to clear the air, though? Yeah, he was a dick, but you shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable around him for the rest of the time we’re all at Edenbrook.”

“I’m just not ready yet.”

Was Suki putting off the inevitable? Almost definitely.

—-

Around Easter, Suki had a couple of days off and was still feeling totally awful. It didn’t help this gave her a chance to think about it. She’d just been so engrossed in work and then so exhausted she’d fall straight asleep. There wasn’t as much time to focus on it properly, even if it did come into her mind at every opportunity. Every time she had to schedule a surgery she dreaded it would be Bryce walking through those doors—but by a stroke of luck it never was. Fate striking again. She did have Ben once, which was as awkward as it could’ve been.

That day around Easter the group had made a big meal and spent some nice quality time together. So in the next instalment of a long line of mistakes, Suki drank too much wine and found herself on Bryce’s doorstep. Which kind of made her cry all over again remembering the last time she was drunk and how Bryce cared for her. How he’d held her and kept her hair back and brushed her teeth and put her in his pyjamas. How he’d cuddled her as she fell asleep. And how apparently that was just a courtesy, not because he really gave a shit.

She thought about what he’d said: if only you knew what a screw up I was, and how ominous that felt now. I’m not sure what you meant, but I feel like the screw up now. No—I am the screw up.

She stared at his door from a distance, before nearing it. Then backing away. Then pacing back and forth. It probably should’ve been a warning that even in her drunk state she couldn’t make up her mind, but clearly it wasn’t.

She neared it, and knocked. Footsteps began to sound out and then when she felt the knob begin to twist she blockaded it on her side.

“Don’t open the door,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear, lolling her forehead onto it. “I can’t do this properly if I have to look at you.” Because even just imagining his face was painful right now. He probably looked so pretty. Unaltered. Just the thought was making her sobs hitch in her throat; but she didn’t want him to hear her crying.

There was a pause from the other side. “Suki…” the tone of his voice was indecipherable.

“I just need to say it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Unawares to Suki, Bryce was directly on the other side of the door, his ear pressed up against it and his eyes shut. It was her voice—he hadn’t heard it in what felt like way too long. He just wanted to rip open the door and see her face. Hug her. Kiss her. Say sorry. But she was right, that wouldn’t be a good idea. So he clambered his hands against the wood beside his head, reaching for the unreachable.

Bryce wasn’t sure how to respond, either.

“I fucked up. Bad. I-” she swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I fell for you,” she tried to control her voice but the tears were relentless, her hand shaking on the wooden door. This wasn’t the ideal situation to be confessing her feelings but it honestly just sort of came out. And there was no taking it back now.

It wasn’t something she was particularly used to… wearing her heart on her sleeve like this. Usually she’d sort of just… fallen into a relationship and that was that. But here she was admitting to Bryce—who’d told her in no uncertain terms he didn’t feel the same—that she’d fallen for him.

Drunk, no less.

“You…” Bryce started, but Suki cut him off.

“And I don’t… wanna see you again. I can’t ever see you again. It hurts too damn much. I know I don’t mean that to you, but I just...”

“But Suki you—”

“Please don’t. I’m going to move on. I’m giving up Bryce for lent,” Suki, drunk, didn’t care that Easter was the end of lent. “I just had to say it first.”

Before she broke too much she rushed away from the apartment and didn’t look back.

Didn’t hear Bryce’s whisper from the other side of the door: “I fell for you too. Long ago.”

—-

All the way home she questioned whether she’d made the right decision. Whether she should’ve just left it.

If admitting her feelings was perhaps entirely idiotic. Sober Suki would probably think so. But there was a slight sense of pressure lifted. She didn’t have to pretend anymore. He knew.

She’d feel embarrassed tomorrow, but that was a problem for sober Suki.

When she got home to see everyone still sitting around the table laughing with their wine glasses she wasn’t entirely sure she was in the mood for it (the whole heartbreak thing probably had something to do with that), but couldn’t object when she was beckoned over.

“Did you get more wine?”

Oh yeah. Her excuse. Oops.

“They were out…”

Jackie shot her an uncertain glance, but everyone was too drunk and jolly to care.

Eventually Suki was able to retreat to bed and follow her usual pattern. But she found herself staring at her phone. Specifically Bryce’s contact.

She’d meant it. She was giving him up. That meant taking certain measures.

She deliberated for what felt like hours, but eventually sent the text.

Suki Moore: Bryce & Suki’s Fuck Buddy Agreement: TERMINATED

Almost immediately her heart was in her throat and again knew sober Suki would regret this. It hurt. Knowing she’d put the final nail in the coffin.

Bryce’s dots popped up. Then down again. Then up, down. Then they never returned. The word read looking more and more like dread. He was probably glad to be free of her.

She found herself wondering how things had changed so drastically. Bryce had gone from being a stranger at a frat party to a colleague with undeniable chemistry to a fuck to… so much more. And now he was worse than a stranger. Her relationship with him was well and truly terminated.

What’s a break-up when the two were never really together?

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 5: COMING TO CAMP

I woke up feeling sore all over, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. A short-cropped blonde haired guy hovered over me, looking down at me. When he saw my eyes open, he asked, "How are you feeling?" I managed to croak, "What?" "Are you feeling better?" "I guess," I mumbled, "I don't... where's Percy?" Somebody knocked on the door, and the guy slowly set the pudding down. "I'll see you when you're better." He smiled. The next time I woke up, the guy was gone.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt. On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry. My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it. "You're awake," a voice said. A blonde girl was leaning against the porch railing, looking tired and done. She was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMPHALF-BLOOD. "I should call the others," she said. "Where's Percy?" "He's talking with Mr. D." "Is he well?" "You've been through worse," She said with her eyebrows knitted(?). "And the first thing you ask is your friend?" "Percy, should—" "I'll tell the others." She looked at me one last time and left. I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight. Without Percy's presence I was reminded of everything I lost. Everyone I care about. "Hey," A voice behind me called. "Annabeth passed by and told me you're awake. Feeling better?" "Oh, hey." I smiled weakly. "Feelin real peachy." "Luke, Luke Castellan." "Y/N L/N..." We stayed quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry for what happened. I don't exactly know what went on but..." Looking at him, I gave him a sad smile, "Thanks... I guess. Even I'm not sure what went on honestly... I don't know what's going on." "Well, I'm not exactly much of an explainer so, we just gotta wait for Chiron." "I... remember everything. From the moment the sea pulled me, to loosing my parents and dog, to bringing us here... I just... don't understand..." I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming. "Don't strain yourself," Luke said. "Here." He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips. I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice. It wasn't that at all. It was (Favorite Food or F/F). Liquid F/F. And not just any F/F—my mom and dad's special F/F. Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom and dad had just pet my head, fed me F/F the way they used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay. Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted. "Was it good?" Luke asked. I nodded. "Are you feeling better now? "Yeah," I said. "Thanks." "That's good," he said. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff." "What do you mean?" He took the empty glass from me, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. "Y/N!" I turned to the voice and saw Grover. "Hey, Luke." "I'll take it they want her?" Grover nodded. "I'll see you later." Luke smiled and ruffled my hair, then left me with Grover. Grover watched Luke leave then turned to me, "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting." The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse. My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. I asked him where Percy was and he said he was already there. As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath. We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings. "Y/N!!" I was engulfed and tackled which almost made me fall. Percy looked at me with sad eyes, holding unto the Minotaur horn. He looked tired and sick. "Are you okay Percy?" He nodded and rested his head on my shoulder. Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl that I woke up to was leaning on the porch rail next to them. The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels— what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt. "Hate to break your touching reunion but we were talking." The man said. "That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron..." He pointed at the guy whose back was to me. First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard. "Mr. Brunner!" I cried. The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. "Ah, good, Y/N," he said. "You're awake. Percy couldn't focus since he was worried of you. He woke up an hour before you. Care for a game of pinochle?" He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you." "Uh, thanks." I turned to Percy who looked at me confusedly as well. "Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl. She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady and Luke nursed you back to health, Y/N. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and Y/N's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now." Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron." She was probably my age, maybe same height, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight. She glanced at the minotaur horn in Percy's hands, then back at him. I felt a bit iffy and got closer to Percy. She turned to me and said, "You should thank Luke." Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her. "So," Percy said, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?". "Not Mr. Brunner," the ex—Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron." "Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director. "And Mr. D ... does that stand for something?" Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young woman, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason." "Oh. Right. Sorry." "I must say, Percy, Y/N," Chiron-Brunner broke in, "I'm glad to see you both alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time. And I am quite surprise to recruit two." "House call?" "Recruit two?" "My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to ... ah, take a leave of absence. And when the mist hadn't worked on Y/N, Grover and I thought she saw through the mist." "Mist?" "It's... something." "You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asked. Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test. As for Y/N..." He looked at me skeptically then to Mr. D. "You're... still scentless." "Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?" "Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt. "You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously. "I'm afraid not," I said. "I'm afraid not, sir," he said. "Sir," I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less. "Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules." "I'm sure the girl can learn," Chiron said. "The other kid was bad, I doubt this one can do better." "Please," Percy said pulling me closer to him, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun—Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?" Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question." The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile. Chiron smiled at us sympathetically. "Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?' "She said... She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her." "And you?" He turned to me. "Nothing like this ever happened... Everything was normal." "Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young lady, are you bidding or not?" "What?" I asked. He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did. "I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient." "Orientation film?" Percy asked. "No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"—he pointed to the horn in the shoe box—"that you and Y/N have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods—the forces you call the Greek gods—are very much alive." I stared at the others around the table. I waited for somebody to yell, Not! But all I got was Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points. "Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?" "Eh? Oh, all right." Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully. "Wait," I told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God." "Well, now," Chiron said. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical." "Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—" "Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter." "Smaller?" "Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class." "Zeus," Percy said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them." And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day. "Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you." "But they're stories," Percy said. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science." "Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I felt Percy flinched when he was called—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me." I wasn't liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if... he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut. "Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?" "You mean, whether people believed in you or not," Percy said. "Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you and Y/N a myth, just created to explain how children can get over losing their parents?" My heart pounded. He was trying to make us angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. Gripping on Percy I said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods." "Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you." Grover said, "P-please, sir. She's just lost her family. She's in shock." "A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with kids who don't even believe.'" He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine. My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up. "Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions." Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise. "Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!" More thunder. Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game. Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits." "A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space. "Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time—well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away—the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair." Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid. "And ..." Percy stammered, "your father is ..." "Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course." I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master. "You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine." Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?" "Y-yes, Mr. D." "Then, well, duh! Y/N L/N. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?" "You're a god." "Yes, child." "A god. You." He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a strait-jacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life. "Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly. "No. No, sir." The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win." "Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me." I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too. "I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment." Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir." Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N. And mind your manners." He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably. "Will Grover be okay?" Percy asked Chiron. Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus." "Mount Olympus," Percy said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?" "Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do." "You mean the Greek gods are here? Like... in America?" "Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West." "The what?" "Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you passed my course—the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps—Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on—but the same forces, the same gods." "And then they died." "Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in RockefellerCenter, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either—America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here." It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron's we, as if I were part of some club. "Who are you, Chiron? Who... who am I? I-Is Y/N?" Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down. "Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. I believe Y/N had met one of them, Luke Castellan. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate." And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.. I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk. "What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N. Let's meet the other campers." I took Percy's hand, anxious of what is coming.

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[letsnotdoanything]

‘’mr. coolest guy’’

hey, hey!

I’m back with a scenario requested by @deardayjm​. I hope you don’t mind that I did it as headcanons, and that you will enjoy reading it!

The request:

hi! can i request for a scenario with jae where he likes his best friend (reader) and the reader likes him too but he didn’t know then suddenly somebody told him that brian likes the reader too so he becomes so overprotective and jealous he ends up confessing to the reader? hehe

Pairing: Jae x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, highschool!au, friends to lovers!au

Words: 1,486

Warnings: a few light curse words

• "That's cheating!" you cried, falling back on the couch and throwing your controller to the side

• you couldn't believe the numbers that were now displayed on the screen in front of you - how the hell had Jae managed to beat you with so many points?

• the boy leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. "I won, and you lost. That means I'm better than you, accept it."

• refusing to look at him, you murmured a few curse words under your breath, which he - telling by the lasting victorious smile on his face - didn't hear

• "one more round?" Jae asked. "loser buys take-out."

• this time, you turned to him and furrowed your eyebrows in thought. the possibility that you would finally win was really low, and if so, only by some coincidence.

• "deal."

•

• you stretched out your limbs that went sore from being in the sitting position for too long. "I think I'm gonna head home."

• "mmmh," Jae hummed while yawning. "text me when you're there."

• "sure, mom."

• you stood up lazily and started gathering your belongings. after one last check, disappeared behind the front door

• you couldn't stop the shiver of excitement that ran down your spine. Jae was like a charger for you, his presence filling you with positive energy (not that you couldn't get tired or sleepy, we all have our limits)

• on the other side, Jae's chest felt heavy at the sound of you closing the door. he missed you. your smile, your voice, your scent, even though you left just a minute ago. it felt almost impossible to wait until the next morning when he would see you again in school

• it wasn't normal for friends to feel that way, he knew it. he realized a while ago, that what he felt wasn't what friends should feel towards each other

• and although he wasn't the shy type, there was something that made him sweat whenever he thought about confronting you about it

• feelings are messed up, man

•

• Jae got lost in his thoughts

• he was sitting with his usual group of friends on his usual seat, surrounded by the usual turmoil 

• but one thing wasn't going as usual - you weren't there yet, and you would barely ever come late for the lunch break

• "so," Minji's voice ripping through the racket brought him back on earth. "have you heard the rumor?

• "what rumor?" Wonpil, who was sitting next to her, asked.

• "really?" Minji said. "the whole school is talking about that."

• Jae looked around the table to see if any of his friends looked nearly as excited as her; to no surprise, as Minji had a habit of exaggerating, it seemed that it wasn't only him who had never heard about the gossip that supposedly everyone knew

• "enlighten us." Wonpil inquired

• she adjusted herself on the seat as if she was getting ready for a big outburst. "well, Kang Younghyun has a crush on y/n!"

• and as she had foreseen, most people at their table went wide-eyed or pressed a hand to their mouths with a gasp

• Jae, too, was taken aback, even though he had no idea who Kang Younghyun was. his jaw dropped alongside his heart, and he remained quiet due to the growing lump in his throat

• "what? that Kang Younghyun?" Hyeri asked, leaning on the table

• "who's that Kang Younghyun?" Dowoon blurted out, looking rather shocked by the reaction than by the rumor itself. Jae thanked him in his head

• "oh, come on!" Minji begged. "have you been in this school since yesterday? he's like the coolest guy in our school!"

• "and he's in a band!" Hyeri added.

• "yeah, and he's a year older..." the first girl finished, resting her chin on her fist and looking at the ceiling with dreamy eyes

• Dowoon also looked up, probably searching for the insect or a stain he thought she was looking at

• at that point Jae was pretty sure that Minji and Hyerin shared a single brain cell

• if he knew that being older was so attractive, he would have got born earlier

• from that moment, he stopped listening to the excited rambling and just stared mindlessly at his hands, deep in thoughts about the news they just heard

• unsurprisingly, they were all about you again

• that was until his friends suddenly went silent and a silhouette appeared next to him

• "sorry, guys, mr. Kim asked me to take some papers to the teachers' room." you apologized, slightly out of breath from running to the cafeteria in order to make it before the break ended. "what were you talking about?"

• "nothing!" Minji was first to answer, not keen to clue you in to the rumor. "you know, just school shit."

•

• "Youngㅡ youㅡ what?"

• you were at Jae's place again, your backpacks thrown to the corner of the bedroom as you sat on his bed. you just told him about the unexpected thing that happened that day - Younghyun had invited you to his band's performance later that week

• "well, I don't really know why, you know we never really talked or anything..." you played with the hem of one of your socks, not noticing the way his eyes nearly jumped out of the orbits

• "and what did you say?" the boy asked. he felt a bit relieved, knowing that you hadn't heard the gossip yet. it seemed like his friends didn't want to unveil it to you, but it might have as well slipped off Minji's or Hyerin's tongue

• "I told him I'd come," you shrugged. "I don't have anything to do on thursday anyway."

• Jae's mouth opened before he could even think about it. "you can't go there!"

• "what? why?"

• "you..." you can't go there for him, he thought. "we have a test on friday!"

• "since when do you care so much about tests, huh?" you tried to joke, although his abrupt answer caught you off guard. "I can study on wednesday."

• "no!" Jae repeated. it was getting harder to keep his tone calm. "don't go there."

• you felt your blood starting to boil. "jeez, Jae, what is your problem?"

• "I don't have a problem."

• "yeah, clearly, you don't," you said sarcastically. "then why do you want me not to go see Younghyun so much?"

• "because I liked you first, okay?!" Jae snapped, throwing his arms in the air. "I liked you before he even knew your name! but then mr. coolest guy in our schoolㅡ" he made a quotation mark in the air with his fingersㅡ "came and hit on you because who would say no to him?"

• stony silence fell in the room as the two of you stared into each other's eyes. you were trying to digest the information you had just been given, while Jae waited patiently for your response. when one didn't come, he continued:

• "so you don't know," his lips moved into a bitter smile. "everyone is on about how that Kang Younghyun has a crush on you."

• at that moment, you couldn't care less - you weren't even sure if you heard the last sentence correctly. in your mind, there was only one phrase bouncing around and trying to sink in. "you... you like me?"

• "what?" Jae was a bit confounded, probably just realizing that he actually did say those words. he scratched the back of his neck. "oh... well, yeah, I guess I have for quite some time nowㅡ"

• "for quite some time? oh my god, Jae, you're such a goober, you know that?"

• you walked closer to the boy, the proceeding scowl now replaced by a wide grin. standing on your fingertips to be able to reach high enough, you placed a short and sweet peck on Jae's cheek. "I like you too, dumbass."

• "so you don't like Younghyun?" he seemed dumbfounded, as if he couldn't figure out whether that whole situation was real or not. "even though he's in a band? and he's older than us?"

• "I don't even know him, why would all that matter?" you laughed.

• "Minji saidㅡ"

• your eyebrows raised in amusement. "you believed her?"

• Jae's ears went red, even more than before. You were right - Minji, of all people, wasn't the best love-advisor, and he felt foolish for trusting so doubtlessly in what she had said

• and although Jae made a mental note to give more thought to her words next time, he quickly set that conclusion aside

• what mattered was that he could finally call you his, and he was all yours

[whattimeisitintokyo]

Ch 43 The Department of Family Reunions and Ch 44: Frangipani

It has come to my attention that I never uploaded the previous chapter onto Tumblr. Oopsy doopsy!

So here’s both the old and the new chapter in one package, all yours for free. Enjoy!

-

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“C’mon, I’ve been waiting for over forty minutes now!”

“You said we were next in line!”

“It’s already eleven o’clock! We don’t have all night you know!”

Old Chicharron tried to ignore all of the complaints and shouts of the other restless spirits hanging around him as he marched towards his office with several heavy, ancient books under his arms. But then more came, some louder and angrier than others, and Chich’s very low tolerance for foolishness gave way. Twirling around he let out a sharp piercing whistle that made everyone in the whole department cringe and fall silent.

“All right, listen up!” Chich barked out once he had their attention. “Unless any of you still has some flesh clinging to your bones, you’ve been moved back on the list of my priorities right now! Héctor Rivera is priority number one, comprende?!”

“Ah, the Riveras have always been your favorites, cabrón!” one stupidly brave skeleton shouted back.

“Pah! Shows what you know! I don’t like anybody!” he snarled before turning his attention to the Rivera family, Leti in particular, with a warm smile. “Leticia, how nice to see you chiquita. Come on in, I have all I need to settle this mess. How’s your mamá?”

Having not let go of Leti’s hand since he had been reunited with her, Héctor was pulled from his seat as the rest of the family walked into the small man’s office. Marigold Station was huge, with several other departments and hundreds of skeletons walking and running about. But the Department of Family Reunions was where the most harried of skeletons seemed to be, trying to get to different ofrendas and fighting with weary customer service assistants. They too stared in awe at a living man walking amongst them and able to see and interact with them. But whatever wonder they had turned to ire when they realized that the living man and his family had just cut in line in front of them.

Héctor also noted that there were even more skull and bone motifs in the architecture, the wallpaper, even the floor tiles.

He was picking up a not-so-subtle theme here…

“Héctor Rivera, step up here by the desk.” Chich said grumpily as heaved the heavy books on top of the desk with a loud grunt and then took a seat. “Sorry there’s only one chair in here and it’s mine, so you’ll have to stand.”

“Oh, uh, that’s alright.”

“Can I get you anything? Coffee, water?”

“No gracias.”

“You’re cursed.”

“What?!” Héctor gasped, hearing his in-laws do the same behind and feeling Leti hugging him in fear. The blunt and tactless way he received his news was like another slap to his sore face. “How? How am I cursed?!”

“Well that’s easy.” Chich said as he pulled out a thick folder and started flipping through the pages. “Dia de Muertos is a night to give to the dead. You stole from the dead.”

“I didn’t steal anything!” Héctor said righteously.

“Oh really? Because the evidence is staring me right in the face.” He pointed down at the guitar still in Héctor’s grip. When Héctor looked down himself he seemed to wilt a little at that in embarrassment.

“Oh… well, I… Oh!” Héctor held up the guitar. “No no, you don’t understand! I wasn’t stealing the guitar. I was preventing my son from stealing the guitar! Very different, you see? Heh heh… heh.”

Looking around at everyone in order to get some sort of understanding, he was just met with unimpressed stares. Gaspar snorted out a laugh. “Wow, Miguel’s a thief? What kind of parenting do you do?”

“I am a good parent! That’s not the point!” Héctor whined pitifully. “Look, I didn’t mean to steal it, alright? I had no idea this would happen. So can you please undo this?”

Chich gave a fake, simpering smile and laugh. “Oho, is that so? Alright, let me fix that for you with my magical powers, amigo. Abracadabra, oh look you’re still cursed. Lo siento.”

“This makes no sense!” Héctor cried out. “How does picking up a guitar get me cursed to the afterlife? Many people have picked it up and taken it away for refurbishing over the years. Is it just because it was on Dia de Muertos?”

“No, not exactly.” Chich explained. “Sí, it being Dia de Muertos does play a big part in this but simply stealing from a grave or an ofrenda won’t get you cursed by itself. Otherwise the whole department would be swarmed with little living babies who’ve swiped a candy or a galleta for themselves. No, the real reason you are cursed is because that guitar is cursed.”

Everyone turned to look at the guitar with newfound apprehension, with both Gaspar and Mirasol stepping back slightly in case the curse would spread to them. Leti nodded slowly with dawning comprehension, letting out a soft ‘ohhh’ in understanding. Héctor was honestly… not surprised. He knew that music was a curse to him and his family, bringing more misery than good and hurting him so much. The fact that it was Ernesto’s guitar, whose memory brought a good portion of that pain, seemed very fitting.

“All right then,” he said. “So… what do I do to fix it?”

Pulling out one of the thick books on his desk, Chich absently shrugged. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know?!” Héctor stared at him wide-eyed and sputtered, then immediately leaned over the desk in agitation. “What do you mean you don’t know?! Isn’t this your job to know or whatever job skeletons have?!”

“I don’t know yet, just give me a minute!” Chich barked out and shoved Héctor’s face back with one hand. He flipped through the pages quickly, scanning them over. “Living people don’t come and go through the Land of the Dead very often, you know. Luckily for you you’re not the first one, I just gotta find his file.”

“You mean this has happened before, Senor Chicharron?” Leti asked.

With a grunt and a nod, Chich didn’t look up from his book. “Si, some guy got sick and was stuck in Limbo. And then… someone in the department messed up his Limbo retrieval and he ended up getting lost in the Alebrije Forest. We got him out and back to the Land of the Living, but he ended up making artwork out of the damn things now the whole world knows about alebrijes and I… someone got reprimanded for the whole thing and had their pay docked.”

“Oh sí, Alebrije Forest.” Gaspar laughed nervously. “The only place here besides the Land of the Dead where alebrijes reside in their thick forest, with lush greenery and fertile soil that no skeleton is allowed to go to. Yep, no one goes there. Not a single soul.”

Chich shook his head in disgust. “Dios mio, everybody knows about your black-market vegetables in the forest, Rivera, and nobody cares! Case in point, I’d like some mangos next time you get some. Aha, here it is. The Linares case.” Finding his spot on the page he quickly skimmed it over and gave out another grunt. “Well this should be easy. The only way to break a curse is to get a blessing from someone.”

“A blessing?” Héctor asked, finally getting the answers he needed he smiled and nodded with excitement. “A blessing. Okay, who do I get a blessing from? A priest, a nun? I’ll take one from anyone at this point.”

“It’s de la Cruz’s guitar, so you need de la Cruz’s blessing.”

“I’ll take one from anyone else at this point.”

Everyone groaned in exasperation as soon as he said it, even Dante made a snorting huff at him. Leti looked up at him with disappointment. “Oh Papa. Why do you hate Tio Nesto so much?”

“I-uh… I don’t hate him exactly.” Héctor said. “It’s just, umm… I have a lot of mixed emotions about him, and we didn’t exactly part on good terms- Look, Senor Chicharron, is it? You seem like a nice guy, down to Earth, the kind of guy you could borrow stuff from. Is there anything else I could do to go back?”

“It’s de la Cruz or nothing, Rivera.” Chich said gruffly.

Standing up straight, Héctor smoothed out his jacket and started to give off an air of high importance. Something that did not suit him at all and he hated to do, but the situation called for it. “Uh Senor, I don’t know if you know me, but despite my appearance I am an extremely wealthy man. So here’s what I’ll do for you.”

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his leather encased checkbook and a pen. Scratching out the details onto the check, he pointedly ignored the way Gaspar slapped his own forehead loudly and how Leti looked up at him with disappointment in her large eyes.

“I’ll start you out with ten thousand pesos, sí? And if that’s not enough then you can add as many zeroes to the end as you want. The sky’s the limit amigo, now what do you say?”

Ripping the check out, he leaned onto the desk and held it out in front of Chich’s glowering mug and put on his best winning, charming smile that ended up looking more sleazy than anything else. It was clear to everyone in the room at that moment that while Héctor was the true musician of the two, Ernesto was the true businessman.

“Anyone ever tell you that you get stupid when you’re desperate, Rivera?” Chich asked, causing Héctor to wilt. “Look, you need de la Cruz’s blessing and that’s that. But you got to get it by sunrise and it’s already past eleven.”

“Sunrise? What will happen at sunrise?”

“Well, if you get your hand off of your attempted bribery of a public official you’ll see for yourself.”

Putting the check down Héctor saw what it had been hiding and what he hadn’t registered before. The rest of his hand was normal, but his index finger was… white. Dumbly he tried to wipe it off on his pants, but the whiteness remained. It was white and… sectioned. Also his fingernail was gone. And his… skin was gone. He clenched the finger and it responded normally, but the sickening creaking sound it made caused the blood to drain from his face.

It was bone. His finger was turning into bone.

He was turning into bones. Into a skeleton.

Bones. Skeleton. Death. Dying. Bones.

…..

“Wake up Papa!”

All of a sudden that horrible smell had assaulted his senses again and Héctor coughed and hacked at the burning sensation coating his nasal cavity. Mirasol was kneeling before him and pulling away the smelling salts from his face with Leti hovering over him worriedly. Mirasol sighed with relief. “It’s a good thing Barto gave us this. Turns out we needed it after all.”

Groaning, Héctor reached a hand to cover his forehead only to jerk it away when once again he saw the whiteness of bone on his finger. He just laid back down, wincing a little as it felt like he was laying on something sharp and lumpy like a pile of broken boards. “What happened?”

“You fainted Papa!” Leti said. “You’re eyes just rolled back into your head and you fell backwards like a tree!”

“It was the shock of it all.” Mirasol said, pocketing the smelling salts. “Honestly, I’m surprised you lasted this long without fainting.”

Héctor huffed out a short laugh. “I had good cause- Ow!” Shifting in discomfort, whatever he was laying was now poking at him in the back painfully. “Why didn’t anyone catch me? And what am I laying on?”

“Me.”

The pained, grunted out voice in his ear caused Héctor to scramble up and off his irritated father-in-law in surprise. With a grimace he took him Gaspar’s scattered form and reached out his hands to help, only drawing back when he realized he didn’t know where to start. Apparently Gaspar had tried to catch him when he had fallen, but his height and weight had been to much for the shorter skeleton and pieces of him were now strewn about the office floor. His skull lay there on his own, glowering unamused as his wife and granddaughter tried to stifle their giggling and Héctor lay hovering but not helping. “You are heavier than you look, yerno.”

Héctor chuckled nervously and gripped his forearm. “Yeah, I’m uh… dense.”

“Dense in the head too.” Gaspar grumbled as once again the bones began to wobble on the floor and magically grouped themselves together. Once he was in one piece he helped himself and Héctor off the floor, silencing his girls with a glare that spoke that this little incident was not to leave the room. Ever.

“Now that you’re done with your little nap, I have something for you.” Chich said.

Everyone turned to see Chich had gone to the other side of the room and had retrieved a large black guitar case from the corner. Pulling out the plain brown guitar and shaking out of few bits of knick knacks and trash he handed the empty case to Héctor. “I don’t trust you to keep that thing safe, especially if you keep keelin’ over like that. This way you can protect it since it’s probably your ticket out of here.”

With a nod and mumbled thanks Héctor placed the golden guitar into the case and made a move to close it but paused. “Why do you say that? I thought you said I needed a blessing from Ernesto?”

“Sí, I did.” Chich nodded. “But that guitar is probably just as important,. Because in the nine years that Ernesto de la Cruz has been dead, and the thousands of offerings he’s brought back from the Land of the Living since then… Not once has he ever brought back that guitar with him.”

Crinkling his brow in confusion, Héctor glanced at the guitar, then to his daughter for confirmation. With Leti’s solemn nod Héctor shook his head. “I don’t understand. He always performed with this guitar, even in his movies. He loved it. Why wouldn’t he have it with him in death?”

Chich shrugged emphatically and glared. “What are you askin’ me for, you need to ask him! He’s the one who can answer that. Now take that guitar to him, get your blessing, and get out of here. I’m too busy to deal with you anymore.”

Pouting Héctor closed up the case and slung it on his back. “Okay, okay. Sheesh!”

“Ay, puta de madre, one more thing: the blessing.” Chich said before they left. “de la Cruz needs to get a cempazuchitl petal and present it to you, call your name and say, ‘I give you my blessing to go home’ and then you take the petal. Poof, your gone.”

“…That’s it? I’m gone, just like that?”

“Just like that.” Chich said. “Now you can get out of my sight.”

Leti watched as he father and grandparents head out the door, pausing to talk about something that she couldn’t hear, and turned towards Chich with a smile. “You know this will be my third time helping Papa on Dia de Muertos. I don’t know what he’d do without me.”

“You should think about getting a little punch-out card.” Chich said with a smile. “Save your Papa five times and you get a free helado, sí?”

Leti laughed out loud at that, a sweet high-pitched giggle, and old Chicharon found himself smiling even more. The little girl always made him feel better, especially on a night like tonight. “You go on ahead with your Papa. If you need anything else don’t hesitate to come back. I’ll be here all night.”

With a laugh, Leti shook her head. “Well, not all night.” At Chich’s questioning brow raise, Leti rolled her eyes. “You have to go visit your family later. You always take a later shift, right? So the newer deceased can go first.”

“… Of course.” Chich nodded and rasped out a hoarse chuckle. “Of course, you know me too well niña. Well after that you can come see me, claro? Tell me all about how you saved your Papa yet again.”

“Okay! Buenos noches, Señor Chicharron!” Leti said as she left. “Enjoy your visit!”

Watching Leti close the door, Chich didn’t immediately start to get ready for the next skeleton to come in. He just leaned back tiredly in his chair with a gravelly sigh. Bringing his fingers up to his face he glowered hard and he could see the slight gray tinge to the bones. A grayness that had been getting steadily worse over the years. He could even make out the beginnings of a small crack along the index knuckle.

Then he looked down as his lunch kit, knowing that that for the first time in decades it held no offerings, no pan dulce, not even a plain piece of fruit. It was a new feeling for him: Not receiving any offerings, not having his picture put up, that angry buzzer that he had heard from a distance before now reverberating loudly and sharply in his memory. Yes, a new feeling that he didn’t like one bit.

Finally he looked around his office. How many days had he cursed that he had ended up servicing the ungrateful souls of the afterlife with little to no thanks or perks? Now he was looking around and taking note of every nook and cranny of the small room, inhaling the scents of old paper and black ink. And it made him even angrier that, eventually, he would be asked to leave this wretched job and never see this stupid room again. And that he’d miss it.

“I’ll be here all night.” He mumbled again to no one.

But for how long?

-

-

Walking outside the Marigold Station and back into the Land of the Dead, Héctor was once again blown away by the majestic sights of gravity-defying skyscrapers and strange animals, that he now knew were the aforementioned alebrijes, flying and buzzing about. There were even more crowds of skeletons dancing in the streets and selling their wares in vendor booths, laughing and yelling and singing. It was so different and yet so familiar it made Héctor’s head spin, and he couldn’t help but smile at everything around him in spite of his dire circumstances.

But nearby skeletons were staring at him and pointing again, and Héctor tried in vain to cover his face with the short collar of his jacket.

“We really need to do something about this.” Gaspar said as he glared at the crowds. “You’ve got to get to de la Cruz pronto and being stopped by these gawkers isn’t helping any.”

“Maybe we could go home and get your hat and scarf to wrap around him?” Mirasol suggested. “Or we could buy some paint and make his face like a calavera, so he’d blend in?”

Gaspar snorted. “There’s no way paint would be able to hide that protruding nose.”

“Okay…” Héctor faintly growled.

“We won’t have to worry about that!” Leti piped up, and Héctor once again found himself melting and smiling at Leti. It felt just so good to hear her voice again that it was almost painful, and he hung onto her every word. “If anyone tries to stop or stall us, Frangipani will get them off of our backs. Speaking of which, she will also be our transportation for the night. Just stay here Papá, I’ll go get her!”

Walking off into the town square with Dante panting happily behind her, Leti cupped her hands and called out to this Frangipani whoever, letting out a few shrill whistles despite not having any lips. Héctor’s chest clenched painfully as he remembered the day when he had tried to teach his children how to do just that, just the tightening of teeth over lips with no puckering. Leti had been the only one to do it, at the ripe age of four years old. He had been so proud.

“A word Héctor,” Mirasol said softly, breaking him out of his memories. “Before you two go.”

Héctor had to force himself to look away from his daughter, wincing and smiling sheepishly once his attention was turned to his in-laws. “Sorry.”

“No no, it’s all right.” Mirasol smiled. “We… know what it’s like to lose a child to death. Especially when they are so very young.”

Héctor’s eyes widened and his gasped softly. “You mean… Before Imelda, you lost-?”

“No.” she reassured him. “No.”

“My wife and I may have been the ones who died, yerno.” Gaspar said, for the first time sounding somber since talking to his son-in-law. “But we still lost all three of our children that day. Only it was worse since we couldn’t see them or protect them when they so dearly needed it most.”

“We wished so badly to be able to raise our children, and in the end we got that opportunity with our granddaughter. But… I never wanted it to be because you and Imelda and the family suffered such a painful loss. And for that I am truly sorry Héctor.”

Feeling that he may start crying again Héctor pressed his lips closed and looked towards his daughter again. Leti now looked impatient as she tapped her foot, an adorable pout crossing her bony lips. Apparently whomever this Frangipani was wasn’t coming when they were being called. It made him smile to see Leti so full of life again despite being dead, especially after seeing her as a hollow husk of her former self the last few days of her being alive.

“Well,” Héctor managed to finally say with a little hoarseness. “she seems to be well adjusted and cared for. Thank you for taking such good care of her. Imelda was right, you two are great parents.”

“So are you Héctor. You are a wonderful father.” Mirasol said, her expression sad again. “You just need to remember how to be one.”

His smile falling from his face and his eyes narrowing, Héctor suddenly didn’t like the turn in conversation. “What do you mean?”

“You know what we mean Héctor.” Gaspar said, and despite being physically twice the skeletal man’s age Héctor suddenly felt like a punk kid in front of his father-in-law by the tone in his voice. “We were there the whole night watching you blow it with your family. Making your grown children cry, making Imelda cry, and Miguel! The poor boy will be scarred forever from tonight and that is all on you! Frankly, I should have slapped you again for what you’ve done!”

Héctor’s face grew hot and the guilt that he had successfully pressed down from before came right back up, and he as he tried to defend his actions he sounded more miserable than truly defiant. “No, they… They kept secrets from me… betrayed me… I-.”

“They kept secrets from you because they love you.” Mirasol softly said, then sighed. “We may have only seen you one day out of the year during these last few decades, but we both know that this isn’t who you are, Héctor. You are sweet, full of creativity, loyal and very goofy. The same things I see in my husband, Imelda sees in you.”

Gaspar harrumphed at that. “Don’t compare me to him…”

“This downward spiral with the whole family started with Leti’s death, sí?” Mirasol asked. At Héctor’s small nod she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Then go. Be with her for tonight at least. It’s high time you finally heal. And with Ernesto too. Remember: we were there that night as well, mijo.”

That night.

Héctor couldn’t help but shiver when he thought about that night. The secrets that Ernesto had been hiding from him, the fight, being knocked out and locked up by his supposed best friend. All of the lies and betrayals that all ended in a bloody smear in a crater. The fact that they were there that night, that they bore witness to that terrible accident, made all the what ifs that he had suppressed for years come back again. If only he had been more attentive to Ernesto’s well being instead of his own, if only he had successfully kept him from going on that stage. If only he had managed to reach him before he hit that final note and the bell cracked loose.

He would still be alive.

Seeing the distress her son-in-law was feeling, Mirasol drew him into a hug and rubbed his back when he stiffened up. It should have felt weird: being hugged by a skeleton. But she was somehow warm and comforting, and Héctor found himself returning the hug and feeling a little better. A hand clapped on his shoulder made him look up, and Gaspar smiled at him little. His own little way of offering comfort too. Héctor was grateful.

“Oh there you are, you silly thing you!” Leti cheerfully said, causing the three adults to break apart before it got awkward. She came up to Héctor with her hands cupped together and smiled brightly at him. “Finally! Sorry for the delay Papá, but our ride is here now. Say hello to Frangipani, my alebrije!”

Opening up her clasped hands and presenting them to him, Héctor was shocked to see an elephant in his daughter’s hands. A pink elephant, to be precise, with butterfly wings for ears that fluttered lazily and green polka dots dotting her body. The elephant was also no bigger than a mouse. Héctor’s first thought was that this was the most adorable little animal he had ever seen in his life, and he couldn’t resist reaching a finger out to pet the little thing. He smiled when the elephant made a tiny peep! and wrapped it’s trunk around his finger. It was amazing and fitting that his daughter would have such a cute ally-buh-buh or whatever it was called.

But then he recalled what Leti had just said to him about it. And it made no sense. “Our… ride?”

“Yep!”

“… Mija, I know I’m a thin guy but if I ride that thing it’ll be an elephant tortilla soon enough.”

Leti tittered a laugh and lifted a finger to lightly rub the small creature’s knobby head, causing it to toot with contentment. “No no! Frangipani’s special, all alebrijes are. They can take many forms, do all sorts of cool things that boggle the mind, and not everyone gets them. Only those who need help when they need it, a spirit guide to guide them on their journey through the afterlife. Frangipani has helped me on many an occasion, you know… Wanna see her special gift?”

At Héctor’s nod, Leti whispered into the butterfly ear and suddenly they both began to flap rapidly. The tiny pink elephant left Leti’s hands and began to float hazily in the air, a high-pitched buzzing noise emitting from the ears. Héctor laughed as it buzzed a circle around his head, shaking his head in amazement. So cute. “Aww, she can fly… Still too small to ride though.”

“That’s only one of her abilities. Here’s the other!” Leti let Frangipani rest back onto her hand, and then began to wind up. “Frangipani: Grande Grande!”

And with a mighty swing Leti flung the alebrije high enough into the air until she was only a tiny pink dot in the sky. And then, within the blink of an eye, a giant five ton elephant came crashing down onto the pavement with a ground-shaking thud. Skeletons shouted in alarm and ducked for cover when the monstrous behemoth was suddenly taking up space in the plaza, and Héctor found himself stumbling back into his in-laws once again making a sound befitting a small girl.

Gaspar shoved him away and helped him balance back to standing position, and Héctor gawked at what had happened to the adorable little animal that seconds ago could have fit in his palm. It was still pink, at least, and the ears were still that of a butterfly’s. But the colors were harsher and glowed all over, the green polka dots had transformed into tiger stripes, the tusks were solid gold and as sharp as daggers at the ends, and the trunk looked like it could squeeze the life out of him faster than a python.

Not so cute anymore.

“Ta-daaah!” Leti grandly proclaimed as she went up beside her alebrije without fear, some skeletons applauding the spectacle while others put themselves back together. “Papá, this is the real Frangipani!. She can be as small or as big as she wants! A size-changer!”

Héctor placed a hand on his chest to calm the wild beating and sucked in a breath. “I… see…”

“And guess what?” Leti smiled. “Frangipani is the same elephant that Tio Nesto brought to Matty and I’s birthday party all those years ago! Remember?!”

As the words registered in his brain Héctor’s shock and amazement instantly turned to agitation and annoyance. “…You mean the same elephant that destroyed your gourmet birthday cake that I spent a small fortune on? And then sprayed me with icing and snot? That… elephant?...”

Frangipani, for all of her grandeur, seemed to deflate slightly at that. A lame wheeze of a trumpet let loose from her, and her trunk timidly poked at the ground in shame. Leti winced and brought a hand up to soothe her chastised spirit guide. “Uy… and I thought it was elephants that never forgot…”

Héctor sighed and walked up towards Frangipani, reasoning it would be silly to be wary about a seemingly wild animal when his eight-year-old daughter was hugging it. The long trunk unraveled and started poking around Héctor’s chest, the dainty upper lip of it managing to catch a sensitive spot and causing him to laugh. Gently pushing the trunk aside, Héctor cleared his throat and straightened his face. “Ahem… So this is our ride?”

“Sí.” Leti said from above, and Héctor was surprised to see that she was already on top and positioned behind Frangipani’s massive head. “Normally I’d have her grab you by your shirt and haul you up here, but you still have all your skin and organs so that would be very painful for you. So I’ll kneel her, you step up onto her leg, grab her ear and hoist yourself up. It’ll be easy!”

It wasn’t easy.

At fifty years old Héctor was not as limber as he used to be, and in the end he had to be pushed up by Gaspar and pulled by Leti to finally secure himself behind her. It was even more embarrassing when the normally clumsy Dante was able to hop up behind him with grace and dignity, panting and smiling with pride. Frangipani was also very hard with thick skin, and it took a few moments to position himself so that he was straddling her back with the least amount of discomfort.

“Oof… Oh!... Ay… Ugh, you’d think an animal this fat would be softer. No no no, wait! I’m sorry, I’m sor-!” But it was too late, for Frangipani’s trunk came up and blew a blast of hot air directly into Héctor’s face with a giant trumpet. It took a few seconds for his ears to stop ringing and his face to stop stinging before he realized that everyone in the plaza was laughing at him. Smoothing his hair back into place he pouted until Leti spoke again.

“Okay then, let’s take to the air!”

Wait what? The air?! The butterfly ears weren’t just for show?!

“Wait wait wait wait!” Héctor cried out before Frangipani could even move her ears an inch to begin flight. “I’m fine with riding an elephant, but flying is absolutely out of the question!”

“Aw, what?” Leti complained and Dante huffed in annoyance behind him.

“I agree with Héctor.” Gaspar said. “That alebrije is not the most graceful of fliers. I know from experience. You’ll be able to walk to Ernesto’s mansion in no time.”

“We’re not going to the mansion first.” Leti said, Héctor not seeing the conspiratorial smile on her face. “We’re going to go to Shantytown. Tio Nesto always brings his portion of offerings there first before the party and concert. We’ll meet him there!”

“Mija...” Mirasol sighed. “Are you sure you just don’t want to wait at the mansion first?”

“No, I don’t.” Leti said seriously. The tone in her voice troubled Héctor a little bit, it was not like his daughter to disagree with an elder flat out. Before he could question it, however, Leti piped out again happily. “Trust me!”

Mirasol’s face gave off a series of wavering emotions, clearly hesitating over whether this was a god idea or not. Finally she sighed and nodded, giving Leti a small proud smile. “All right then.” Looking now at Héctor, she continued. “Héctor, this may be the last time we see you for hopefully a long while. Good luck, mijo.”

Gaspar gave a short wave, smiling a bit. “Adios, yerno.”

Héctor nodded and smiled. “Adios. And thank you for everything again!”

With a gentle nudge by the ear from Leti, Frangipani started to walk slowly in the opposite direction down the street. Héctor jolted a little at the sudden motion and made a grab for his daughter to keep her upright, but Leti just shook her head and laughed. Several skeletons made way for the large alebrije walking through the crowd, and Dante gave one last bark at Gaspar and Mirasol as a way of goodbye.

When they all turned around the corner and disappeared, Gaspar sighed. “Do you really think going to Shantytown is a good idea?”

“It might be.”

“You know why she’s really taking him there, don’t you?”

“Sí.” Mirasol nodded. “But it might help. Héctor needs to heal from his past wounds. And if there’s anyone here who can help him feel better, it’s Leti.”

-------------------------------------------

“Why the heck would you want Miguel to go to business school, Papá? Are you loco?”

Héctor couldn’t help but be little offended at that. Seems like everyone, even those in the afterlife, thought that maybe some of his parenting ideas weren’t so great after all. Even Imelda had balked at the idea of business school at first before he had managed to talk her into it the night before. Though from the reactions he got from everyone else, the way they had ganged up on him about Miguel pursuing music, maybe… No.

“I don’t understand why it’s such a bad idea!” Héctor said as all three of then swayed back in forth as Frangipani weaved through the streets of the dead. “He’ll have a secure future, be able to provide for himself and his family. And besides Matty is a businessman and he loves it!”

Leti chuckled sarcastically and turned around to face Héctor. “Papá, I love my brothers with all of my heart, but Matty is a boring stick in the mud who collects coins and stamps that are, in his words, neato. And Miguel’s… not the brightest bulb in the city if, you catch my drift.”

“Oh, come on. Miguel is very smart.”

Leti rolled her eyes. “Just tonight I saw he and Victoria get into a heated debate on whether vitamins existed or not. And before you ask, he was against them being real.”

“Oh… I’m beginning to think I don’t know my own children.” Héctor said sadly.

Leti leaned back against him and hummed. “You used to… but think about it. Music was so engrained into our family for years. It was the backbone to our successes, helped us out through tough times. Even though I could only see him once a year I could tell Miguel was going to grow up just like you, a musician through and through. Then, all of a sudden, it was taken from him at such a young age. I guess that was when the secret-keeping started. You forbid something he loved and made him happy. Made others happy too.”

“I was trying to protect him from what happened to Ernesto!”

“Papá…”

“I was! You were there that night, right? He died on stage singing that dreadful song-”

Remember me…

Though I have to say goodbye

Remember me!

Don’t let it make you-

Héctor gasped as they passed by one of the apartment complexes on the street, one skeleton on a balcony languidly humming along to a radio blasting that song at full volume. Even worse other skeletons had heard it too and started to sing along with it as well. Once again Héctor’s insides clenched up until it was hard to breathe, his face grew hot, and his heart started pumping a mile a minute.

Shoving the heels of his palms hard into his ears and squeezing his eyes, he was able to feel that Frangipani had started to pick up speed. Leti must have urged her further to get away from the song as quickly as possible. Once they were at a safe distance Héctor felt Dante’s wet tongue lick his hands, letting him know it was safe to let his hands down again. He did but kept his eyes shut as he tried to will his body to calm down. Again Leti leaned into his chest and Héctor wrapped his arms around his daughter searching for comfort.

He was so ashamed.

“You really hate that song, don’t you Papá?”

His voiced trembling more than he wished it too, Héctor rasped out. “I… can’t stand it…”

“That’s very sad.” Leti said. “You used to love that song, especially since you wrote it out of love for Coco.”

“I can’t feel the love anymore.” Héctor whispered. “Only pain… and death.”

“… It’s because of me too, right?”

Héctor didn’t say anything. Couldn’t confirm it, or rather didn’t want to. Because it was true. Two lives taken from him because of that song. Héctor just hugged her tighter, Dante whining behind him and placing his chin on Héctor’s shoulder. They stayed that way for a few moments, just Héctor holding her, before Leti spoke again.

“Well, I rather like that song.”

The bluntness coming from his daughter was so surprising that Héctor couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh, but he just kept holding her with his eyes closed.

“I remember my last day alive. I was terrified, in pain, could barely breathe. But you were all there for me, and I was so glad Tio Nesto made it to say goodbye. I couldn’t speak properly, but I wanted you to sing to me Papá. I wanted you to sing that song. And you did. You all did. It was beautiful, and it was the last thing I remembered being alive. It helped me pass peacefully.”

“I know you feel like the song took us away from you, but I like to think that it released us from our pain. You were right, I was there that night. I saw Tio Nesto was sick at heart, but he still sang that song one more time. But we’re not gone Papá, not as long as you remember us the way we were. Because now we’re not sick and dying anymore. Now we are free to FLY!”

At that word Frangipani’s wing ears spread wide open at rapid speed, and before Héctor had a chance to open his eyes the alebrije was air-born with one mighty flap and a whoosh of air.

Héctor once again made a sound that he was not proud of and held on tighter to Leti, trying in the back of his mind to convince himself that he was protecting her and not clinging on for dear life. There were many things he wanted to shout out, such as ‘stop!’, ‘I said no flying!’ and ‘wasn’t there a movie about this?!’ but all that came up was panicked screaming. Before long they were up above the lower rung of buildings and heading straight up into the air.

Gaspar was right: Frangipani wasn’t the most graceful of fliers. She had to dodge other buildings. Towers and cranes during her ascent, even ducking beneath an air trolly at one point. It was a little sickening as she looped around at all angles, and even Dante was trying to keep hold by biting hard on the back of Héctor’s jacket and clinging to the guitar on his back. And Leti just laughed and whooped the whole time.

“Don’t worry Papá!” she screeched. “We’ll be in the open air right… NOW!”

And they were. Now that there was nothing in their way the turbulence was gone and there was now smooth sailing. Héctor slowly released his death grip from his daughter, and Dante from his, when his stomach finally settled back into it’s natural position. Carefully he risked a lean to his right to look down below, and he gasped both at how high they were and how even more beautiful the city was from above. The lights from the streets illuminated the ground even more, and several more colors popped out now that they were free from the fog surrounding the flower bridges.

Amazing.

“Sorry Papá!”  Leti said as she spread her arms wide enough to simulate flying herself. “But Frangipani is faster in the air than on the ground, and you don’t have all night. Besides, it’s a much better view up here than down there, right?”

And as the wind blew in his air and he could feel the smile growing on his face in pure wonderment, he couldn’t help but agree.