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dumfanting · 1 year

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Something in the Orange, part 2

AO3 Link

Rating: Safe

Warnings: alcohol consumption, illness

Notes: second person pov, present tense, readers gender unspecified

3092 words

Making a new post for this part; I went to edit the original and tumblr broke it. (Also I don’t think anybody ever saw it?)

GN Reader/ Cody

“You’re familiar,” he says, weak with exhaustion. “Do I know you?” he asks.

“When this is over, find me. I’ll wait for you.”

You can’t remember how long ago you said that. It simultaneously feels like days and years have passed between then and now.

You had been younger then, still hopeful, but that hope was brutally extinguished by a single order not long after you and Cody separated.

In the aftermath of the Separatist victory, you fled to Tattooine, where the empty landscape and sparse population are about as different from Coruscant as it gets. The Empire doesn’t seem to notice this planet or care about it, which suits you just fine.

Even so, rumors still manage to reach the tiny village you now call home. You’ve heard dozens, but two stick with you; that the Jedi were traitors, slaughtered by their own men, and that those men, the clones, are being ‘decommissioned’ in droves as time goes on. With each low whisper you overhear, your gut twists into knots.

What happened to Cody?

You told him to find you, but as the time drags on, that seems less and less likely to happen. Is he still ‘useful’ to the Empire, or has he been thrown away like a worn out tool that served its purpose? Which would be worse? You left him no clue as to where you had gone, so could he still find you? If he does, would he be the same man you fell in love with?

These questions and more keep you awake at night.

It’s hard to gauge the passage of time in the desert. You lost track of how long you’ve been here a while ago, but it’s been long enough for you to make at least one friend. The bartender of the town's only cantina, a Pantoran man around your age named Kellis, had managed to chip through the metaphorical wall you hid yourself behind over the course of several weeks worth of drinks and late nights.

As you walk the short distance from your small, one-room apartment to the bar, the day's high winds whip your linen pants around your legs. The constant sand and dust make the thin white fabric look dirty and ragged. You step into the doorway, unwrap your head from the dark red scarf you wear to keep the worst of it out of your face, and brush yourself off, ignoring the soft pattering sound the falling sand grains make while hitting the floor. Kellis brightly calls your name from behind the bar, and you make your way over to him.

You sit yourself down on your preferred bar stool, and he starts mixing up your usual. He asks how you’re doing, which you shrug off with a comment of “I still haven’t given up yet,” which usually makes him chuckle, and today is no different.

He hands you your drink and when you glance up at him while taking it, you notice that he looks tired. You point this out and ask if anything is going on.

“You remember the sandstorm that blew over a few rotations ago?” he asks, barely holding back a yawn.

“I’m still finding dust in my dishes, yeah. What about it?” you say, sipping at your drink, which is perfectly mixed as always.

“Well, I found somebody on my building's doorstep when it finally passed. I brought him inside, and he’s got sand fever, which is no surprise,” he says.

“You didn’t catch it, did you?” you ask, taken aback.

“No, I’ve been careful, been keeping my face covered up,” he says, waving your concern off.

“Okay. But, he mustn’t be from here then, no local in their right mind would go out during a sandstorm like that. Did you get his name?” you say, your curiosity piqued.

“He looked vaguely familiar, and when I said so he kind of laughed bitterly and mumbled something under his breath. But no, he said he isn’t from here. He was slipping in and out of a delirium, kept mumbling about the desert and finding something. The fever has been steadily getting worse and he kept me up last night, it looked like he was having flashbacks to something terrible,” Kellis says, softly shaking his head. “I don’t fault the guy for it at all, but still, it kinda wore me out. On top of that, he didn’t tell me his name, and he refused to sleep in my bed. He says that old bench I’ve got is closer to what he’s used to,” he continues, trailing off into thought.

Something stirs in the back of your mind, though you can’t place what it is.

“That’s kind of you to keep an eye on him,” you say, finishing your drink and fishing some credits out of your small bag.

“You know I couldn’t just leave him there. Besides, if the scar along the side of his face is any indication, the man’s been through enough already,” he says.

You suddenly freeze, and despite the suppressive heat of the building, an impossible chill runs through you.

“W-what was that?” you say, fighting to keep your hands from trembling.

“I could tell he’s been through some shit by the scar along his face,” Kellis says, watching you with a puzzled expression.

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and your thoughts are swirling like a twister in your mind. That sounds like Cody. You’re tempted to run to Kellis’ place and find out if it is him right this second, but logic takes over. There are billions if not trillions of people in this galaxy, you tell yourself, so the odds that it is him are almost impossible.

Kellis says your name, concerned. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You’d never told him about your past with the clone commander, but it wasn’t something that you’re ashamed of, so you aren’t sure why you kept it quiet. You shake yourself.

“I’m fine, sorry. I think I’ll have another one today,” you say, gesturing to your empty glass. He doesn’t seem to believe you, but drops the subject as he prepares your second drink, changing the subject to an upcoming meteor shower.

Later that day, you’re sitting on the rooftop terrace of your apartment building, staring up at the bright orange sky while the two suns are setting. The color is almost exactly the same as the paint was on Cody’s armor. You’ve avoided thinking about him since you left the bar; the sheer amount of ways he could have changed kept threatening to overwhelm you. As you sit, the orange in the sky quickly deepens to scarlet, then purple. It eventually becomes the inky blue-black you’ve gotten used to, and you pause for a moment to admire the view of the stars. You never could see the stars like this back on Coruscant.

Cody always said that someday he’d take you somewhere like this to see the stars.

With nothing to distract you, you finally allow yourself to wonder if the stranger from the sandstorm really could be him. You mull over everything Kellis had told you earlier today, intensely examining it all in your mind. You hoped for years that Cody would be able to find you, but that had flickered out and died after the Empire took over. You were convinced that he was dead or worse, ‘reconditioned’, and found yourself wondering if he would find you less and less as time went on. You never completely gave up though, and much to your surprise, a long-dormant spark of hope ignites in your heart again.

“‘I won’t give up on you’,” you whisper to yourself. You meant it back then, and you mean it now. Your mind is made up; you’re going to stop by Kellis’ place first thing tomorrow morning and find out who this stranger is for yourself. For the second time today, you’re tempted to rush over there right now, but your mind has been racing ever since you left the bar and you convince yourself that you need to sleep first.

You’re abruptly awakened the next day by loud, persistent knocking at your door. It’s early in the morning, the two suns having barely risen over the horizon, and as you stumble out of bed and pull on a robe, you wonder who could need to see you this badly.

You open the door with a yawn and find Kellis. He looks frantic, which fully wakes you immediately, and he starts talking as soon as the door opens completely, though his words are so fast and jumbled you can’t understand any of it. You grip him by the shoulders.

“I need you to breathe and calm down so you can tell me what happened,” you say, firmly but not unkindly.

“Y-yeah, okay, sorry,” he says, making an effort to relax. He lets out a long exhale, then repeats himself, speaking clearly this time.

“I just got a call that my sister was in a speeder collision back home, and I need to get there as soon as possible,” he says, shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

“Then go! What are you here for?” you ask, alarmed and confused.

“Can you keep an eye on the guy I told you about yesterday while I’m gone? I’ve sent for a doctor but it’ll take a few days to get here from where she is, and I really don’t want to ditch him,” he says quickly.

“Done,” you respond without hesitation. “Should I bring him here or go over to your place?” you ask.

“I don’t think he’s in any shape to be moved,” Kellis says, shaking his head.

You tell him to give you just a minute to get dressed, do so, then meet him in the hallway outside.

Once you’re there, he runs from your place to his own a block or two away with you close on his heels. He quickly shows you the passcode to his apartment, leads you inside, then grabs a hastily packed bag and takes off without slowing down. You forgive the rude goodbye, as he obviously has more important things on his mind. Thankfully you’ve been here a few times before, so you have a good idea of where everything you may need is.

Your heart is pounding from the sudden burst of activity and you take a minute to catch your breath. As you lean heavily onto the wall, panting, you suddenly hear loud coughing coming from further inside, followed by a soft pained groan. Remembering how contagious sand fever can be, you wrap the scarf around your face just a little tighter before going to investigate.

You step further into the living space and freeze. Partially hidden from the front door by the low light, on the heavy wooden bench Kellis uses in place of a sofa, lies a man with dark hair and tanned skin under a mountain of blankets. He looks thin, and his hair is long and unkempt, but you’d recognize that face, that scar, anywhere.

“Cody!” you say in disbelief, your voice muffled by the scarf.

He doesn’t seem to have heard you, so you take a few steps closer to him. He’s still coughing, but once it passes, he looks up at you, confused.

“Where’s Kellis?” he asks, and his voice is gravelly and hoarse. You barely recognize it.

“He had a family emergency, I’m a friend of his,” you say, somehow managing to hold your composure, although your heart threatens to break out of your chest. “He’s called a doctor for you, I’m going to stay with you until she gets here.”

Cody coughs again, but doesn’t protest. Unsure of what to do, you pick up an empty glass on the caf table nearby, walk over to the kitchen and get him something to drink. You return and hand it to him, which he accepts and sips at gratefully. He seems to be looking you over with more intensity, and his brow creases when he meets your eyes.

“You’re familiar,” he says, weak with exhaustion. “Do I know you?” he asks.

You don’t know why, but you hesitate to answer him. Seconds later, he slips back into sleep.

Once you’re sure Cody won’t wake again for at least a few minutes, you rush back to your place and pack enough clothes and toiletries for a few days, stuffing it into a worn out old bag that you swing onto your shoulder. When you return, he’s still asleep, but it doesn’t appear restful.

He’s sweating terribly despite shivering, jerking his head from side to side while mumbling and every few seconds one of his arms or legs will twitch.

You drop your bag and duck into the refresher, fetching a cool, damp rag, then come back out and sit directly across from him on the caf table. You lean forward and gently cup his face with one hand. You ignore the pang in your chest at the comfortable familiarity of the action. With your free hand, you use the rag to gently pat away the sweat on his forehead. You take this opportunity to get a better look at his face, and you immediately notice that he looks much older than he did when you last saw him. How much of that was due to his accelerated aging or due to stress isn’t clear, but either way, Kellis was right. Even without his scar, you can tell just by glancing at Cody’s face that time has not been easy on him since you left.

You get to your feet, fighting back a lump in your throat. You chuck the rag in the direction of the kitchen sink without noticing or caring where it landed, all the while not taking your eyes off of Cody, then you sit back down onto the caf table and continue watching him. He isn’t sweating as much, and he’s stopped moving his head around, so hopefully he’s actually resting now, you think.

“What’ve you been through?” you say, unaware that you’ve spoken aloud.

As if he’d heard you, he starts mumbling in his sleep, but it’s difficult for you to hear him. You lean forward and lower your head closer to his to better understand him.

“-deserted… choices… orders,” he says, and something clicks in your head. You sit back up, surprised.

Kellis told you yesterday that Cody would mumble about the desert, which had confused you at the time, but after hearing him yourself just now, you realize he’s saying ‘desert’ as in to desert something, not as in reference to the landscape.

Had Cody deserted? When?

It couldn’t have been before the Empire took over, you reason. As dedicated and loyal as he is, he never would have left General Kenobi or his brothers, whether the General was a traitor or not. No, he had to have left afterward. Was it because of what’s been called ‘Order 66’, or had he been in the Empire’s hands after that?

Whenever he left didn’t really matter, but the reason for it does. Something had to have happened to him or around him to push Cody far enough to abandon his duty. Whatever that was, you know it had to be serious, which worries you. The anxious knots you feel when overhearing those whispered rumors return in full force as you wonder how he’s changed while under Imperial control.

Cody stirs, coughing again as he wakes and grabbing your attention. You cautiously hold your palm to his forehead, noting that his fever seems to have gone down, at least a little. When you move your hand away, he startles you by suddenly grabbing it and pulling you down to his level.

“Please, I have to go, I need to find-,” he says, before falling into another coughing fit. He groans, still exhausted, and his hand slackens, allowing you to free yourself from his grip.

“Whatever it is will have to wait,” you say, keeping your voice soft. You brush a few stray pieces of his hair out of his face and continue. “You’re in no shape to go anywhere yet,” you say.

“No,” he says, managing to sit up. “They’re waiting for me, I’ve taken too long already!” he says, sounding almost desperate. Your heart aches for him as it beats even harder in your chest.

“Cody, listen to me,” you whisper, and his head whips up in your direction so quickly his whole body wavers, dizzy from the sudden motion.

“You shouldn’t know my name,” he says, and he sounds suspicious. “I haven’t told anyone since I’ve gotten here.”

Before you can respond, his eyes meet yours again, and you can see recognition spread across his face. He whispers your name in complete disbelief, reaching for the scarf you have wrapped around your face from the nose down.

You get to your feet to stop him from touching you, then take a few steps backwards, creating a fair distance between the two of you, even though all you really want to do is take him into your arms.

You take a deep breath, then slip the scarf down past your chin, just long enough for Cody to get a clear look at you. His jaw drops and he tries to stand, but stumbles backwards, too weak to manage it. You pull the scarf back into place and return to his side, holding him by the shoulders as you firmly push him back into a lying position.

“You’ve got sand fever, you need to rest,” you say.

He curses under his breath, still not taking his eyes off of you. “It’s really you,” he says. His voice is barely audible, so you know he’s about to slip back into sleep again.

“It is,” you say softly. You return to your seat on the caf table, releasing his shoulders but entwining the fingers of your hand with one of his. Despite his condition, he grips you like a lifeline, strong enough to faintly ache.

“But why here? I’ve been everywhere,” he says.

“There will be time for that later, once you’re better. You need to rest,” you say, firmly repeating yourself.

Reluctantly, he nods, and releases your hand. You get to your feet once more, and turn to head towards the kitchen, but stop when he speaks.

“Don’t leave me again, please,” he says, begging, and your heart breaks. You turn around and kneel beside him, and briefly touch your forehead to his.

“Don’t worry, Cody. I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly.

Taglist: @kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69 @the-cantina

#my fics #Cody #series

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allie-campbell-bradshaw · 6 months

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Chapter 14: Surprises

A/N: Okay, we’re getting back to this story being good…I promise, the fluff is coming! It’s honestly hard to believe that we are now 14 chapters into this phenomenal story. I know it has been a slow start, but I promise we are going to start moving forward from here on out. I mention this in every chapter, but in case you missed it- I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted without credibility. If you do want to post this story to your page, please be sure that you tag my account or at least mention its original source in your post.

Also: This story is sequential…please go back and read my other chapters, in order, for the best results!

Again, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter 14: Surprises

BRADLEY’S POV

“Holy shit!” Javy exclaimed with wide eyes, completely taken aback by the story I had just shared with him. The story of Friday night, sparing the excruciatingly romantic details.

Natasha’s eyes left mine to meet Javy’s, looking equally as impressed as him, but not as obvious, “Wait until Frasier hears about this!” she exclaimed, calling out the inevitable–Emmett was going to be filled in. And when he was, all hell would break loose with endless amounts of teasing and bullshit.

“So you lost her number, and then spent the past 24 hours in the hospital waiting for her?” Javy was retelling the story out loud so he could comprehend it better. He was still struggling to process all the developments that had occurred over the weekend.

“Yeah,” I answered. Short and casual.

“Geez” Natasha stated, eyes going wide and letting out a loud gust of air as she adjusted into the seat next to me.

Javy was sitting in front of us today, taking the turn to sit alone. That was our agreement for the seating arrangement since the tables only fit 2 students. We opted to take the front two tables on the right side of the lecture hall. Javy sat at the very front table and Natasha and I were directly behind him. Every time we had lecture, we would rotate. Tomorrow would be my turn to sit in the front. Thank God it wasn’t my turn today! I was dog shit tired!!!

Javy and I adjusted in our seats, as well as the rest of the class. The Naval Academy was very punctual. This class, Flight Training I, started right at 10:45, and if you were a split second late, you would be locked out of the hall. Someone in my Calculus I class was not even 10 seconds late and found himself struggling with the locked doorknob. Another student in class got up to let him in, and was stopped by the Captain that was instructing the course. The student that was late AND the student that tried to help both did 50 pushups on the field of the track after class. The rest of us had to watch at attention, heavily concentrating on our stance, we didn’t dare breathe out of place. No one has ever been late to anything on campus since then.

It was now 10:44 and our flight instructor was nowhere to be found. Everyone in class was looking at each other, waiting for someone to speak up.

I was about to pull out my phone and check my school email for possible cancellations when a white man, nearly bald, stormed into the room. He had a few strands of white hair resting on the bottom portion of his head. He was wearing the same service khakis as we were. However, his were decked out in ribbons and insignias, whereas we only had 1, the generic service ribbon that we got on the day we took our oath.

“Good morning midshipmen,” He said sternly, obviously not someone that cared about having a ‘polite’ reputation on campus. There was a pause in his voice as he reviewed the roster which was attached to a clipboard on his desk, “and women” he finished, noting the two women that were in our course. I looked over at Natasha, who scooted in her chair, bothered by the lack of respect taken towards her gender.

He dropped the clipboard down onto the desk, leaving a loud echo behind him as he leaned over the steel and into our eyes, “I honestly don’t give a shit about learning your names. Statistically speaking, 2 of you will fail out of the aviation program before you get to the finish line, 3 of you will die in action within the first two years, and another one of you will be a POW in the middle east before you’re 30, which means that only 1 of you will have what it takes to make it to Top Gun before retirement, and even then, nothing is guaranteed”.

A chill ran down my spine as this man spoke his last sentence. He never once made eye contact with me, instead looking in the opposite direction of the room, but it seemed as though he directed that statement unto me. I looked down at my notebook and blue pen, picking it up and twirling it through my fingers. Natasha noticed the change in my demeanor, and learned forward, a look of concern on her face. I didn’t want to explain this to her. Not now. Maybe not ever. So I just shook my head and kept my gaze down. Her gaze went back to the instructor as he finished his statement, “Let the bloodbath begin.”

Javy looked over his shoulder at the two of us, feeling completely uneasy. I could see the fear in my classmates' eyes as the realization that some of us in this room would be dead soon became a hard statistical fact. I continued to spin the pen around as he went on with his introduction, “I am Rear Admiral Thomas Campbell. You will call me Rear Admiral Campbell, not ‘hey you’, ‘teacher’, ‘mister’, or ‘Sir’, do I make myself clear?”

My eyes went completely wide with shock and fear as he announced his full name. Before then, I had completely tuned him out. The pen that was in my hand fell straight onto the paper, leaving a trail of ink as it went flat onto the surface. I could feel Natasha’s eyes on me and in my periphery, I could see that Javy was tense, his head half tilted to us, but still keeping his eyes forward.

“The only exception to my name is to call me by my call sign, “Panther” when we are in the air. During your first year, you will spend a total of 80 hours in our simulation room and 20 hours in the air, flying our cessnas. You have all been grouped based on ability and performance on your pre-assessment taken last week. Three of you will be with me, two of you will be with Justin Fulterski, call-sign “String Bean”, and the last two will be with my daughter, Allie Campbell, call-sign “Baby”. Both of whom are adjunct instructors with their pilots license. They are not active duty soldiers, so you do not salute them”.

The doors opened and Justin, followed by Allie, came into the room, wearing the green flying suits that we will eventually wear in the air. Now Javy was completely turned, looking right at me. Natasha was covered in shock, but trying hard to hold onto her poker face, a face that won a poker tournament this weekend. However, she did steal some glances my way every few seconds. A few other classmates had their eyes glued to me while the remainder were still focused on Admiral Campbell’s speech.

I kept my eyes down, grabbing my aviators and pulling them over my eyes, avoiding all eye contact from the front of the room where Allie was now standing. I used the opportunity I had to steal a glance at her, knowing I was shielded by the dark tint of the glasses so she wouldn’t know I was looking.

Her eyes were right on me, her lips pursed and cheeks slightly pink with a sort of “gotcha” look on her face. She looked away a few seconds later and brought her gaze to her father. Her hair was tightly pulled up into a bun on the back of her head, the standard for women in the military.

Her father…Her father was my flight instructor, and not only that, he was an admiral for my branch of the armed forces! I brought my attention back to him, my head swimming too much to even be able to half-focus, but I tried. “And now for our flight assignments,” Admiral Campbell went on, grabbing a stack of folders. “I will be taking those with the least amount of flight experience, which is Ashton, Stellar, and Heights,” he said as he made eye contact with the two men and the woman who were called, slightly embarrassed at his candid reasoning. “Machado and Trace will go with Bean. Which leaves Ryans and Bradshaw with Baby”.

We both made eye contact with each other as her dad handed her over two files, obviously papers of me and my partner. I took off my aviators and looked at her, hard. I couldn’t decide what to think. On one hand, I was excited that I had her as an instructor, but on the other hand, I felt cheated. We spent almost 2 hours together on Friday and not once did she mention having a pilots license or being an instructor on campus for that matter. She must have seen the torn expression on my face, because when I looked up at her again, she looked quite insecure in her position. She was now avoiding eye contact with me completely.

Rear Admiral Campbell continued his speech, telling us that we would spend our first month in the simulation room before we get into the air. This new flight training program was designed to get Naval Aviators in the air before attending flight school, working with the harder military aircrafts. For the next three years, we would just be focused on the cessna’s and getting as many flight hours in as we could before our next step.

After the Naval Academy, we would all go to Rhode Island for Officer Training School. This was a requirement for anyone entering naval service. So Natasha, Javy, and Emmett would all be going along with me. Once we complete that course, Emmett would be separated from us, and the two others and I would go to Florida for the Air Indoctrination Course. Then there would be flight school, our final step to officially become an aviator for the U.S. Navy. We would either stay in Florida or go to Texas for that. The whole process was going to be long and tedious, but knowing that Allie was going to be one of my instructors for a small part of it, made it a little more fulfilling than it already was. Something a little more special.

I didn’t realize how lost in thought I was until Natasha nudged my shoulder. I quickly blinked and came out of it, seeing that all of my classmates were getting up and heading for the doors of the lecture hall. Natasha looked at me concerned and confused, but I just brushed it off, making my way to the doors. Allie and Justin were still standing in the front of the room, watching us as we left. I looked over my shoulder at her one last time, letting the frustration of this surprise show on my face, shaking my head at her as I went up the steps of the isles. She looked down, with an upset expression now on her face. Justin turned his head to her, but I didn’t catch anything else at that point. I was already out of the room by then.

I followed the crowd of my classmates as they walked down the halls, Natasha standing to my left and Javy to my right.

“What the fuuuuuuck,” Javy whispered.

“Shut up,” I snapped back, keeping my voice down so no one else caught on.

“I just can’t-” Javy went on, finding himself as speechless as Natasha and I already were, “Did you know about this?” He asked, looking over at Trace.

All she did in response was raise her eyebrows and shake her head, not knowing what to say at this moment.

Eventually the crowd we were following went outside and onto the tarmac, watching as upperclassmen were walking around the area, every one of them paired up and getting settled into their T-68 Texan II.

All of us watched in amazement at what was happening. They all had flight suits on, helmets, and a full team of managers helping on the ground.

“Calm down boys!” Admiral Campbell said to us. Natasha let out a loud breath. I looked over at her and saw in her eyes that her blood was boiling, obviously Admiral Campbell was not used to women being in this program. “You won’t be flying these babies until the beginning of your fourth year. Third if you’re lucky,” he went on, looking at me as he said this. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked over at Natasha who just raised her eyebrows a little bit and gave a slight nod, a soft smirk on her face. I never was one to stick out from the pack, so I didn’t really know how to handle this…and I didn’t really want to learn.

“Now ladies and gentlemen,” he started. It was nice to see him finally getting into the inclusion: “Enjoy the show.” He kept his stance tall as he turned around, his hand behind his back, holding his fingers together.

We watched as Justin and Allie emerged from a hanger, both of which were carrying their own helmets. His were various shades of green, with the words “string bean” written in yellow paint. Hers was white with ‘Baby’ painted in light blue cursive along the top.

Both of them quickly got into a Texan, strapping themselves in and communicating with the ground crew. They were signing things to each other, although I had no idea what they were saying. Eventually they stopped signing and the aircraft was turned, the backs now facing us. Admiral Campbell looked over at a grounds crew man that was standing by a radio. Campbell nodded at him and the Black crewman turned on a handheld radio that was sitting on a table.

“Texan 2 ready for taxi.” Justin said over the radio.

“Texan 3 ready for taxi.” Allie’s voice came through the radio.

“Texan 3, begin taxi first, face North,” another voice said. I looked up at the air traffic control tower that was right above us. The windows were completely tinted black with white stone covering the leg of the tower. Natasha and I stole a glance at each other, with a WTF expression on our face as the shock of this morning settled into a reality.

After a few minutes, Allie came on and said she was ready for departure. I looked over at the walkie and heard the same air traffic controller say, “Texan 3, you are clear for departure”.

“Copy, clear for departure.” Allie said. Within seconds, her aircraft roared to life and we watched as her plane sped down the runway and took off towards the Northern sky. Everyone turned their bodies as her jet moved past us, the sound excruciatingly loud and wind intently smacking onto our bodies. “Holy shit!” a classmate yelled. No one else said anything, instead we watched in amazement as the jet circled around us in the sky.

Eventually, Justin was also up there, and we watched as the aircrafts moved, obviously showing off a well-rehearsed flight show. They spun, and spiraled, and circled each other, ending their show with a “fly by” right over the control tower. Everyone's eyes, including my own, were beaming.

I watched as Allie’s aircraft landed on the runway, coming to a halt and taxing over so Justin could land. Then they drove their aircraft back over to us and sat there as the grounds crew helped them with the proper procedure of getting out of their aircrafts. I glanced down at my watch and noticed that this whole thing lasted over an hour, although it only felt like 15 minutes.

Justin and Allie walked over to us, taking off their helmets and balancing them down on their hips, standing behind Admiral Campbell.

Campbell turned around, facing us now, we weren’t able to see his eyes anymore since they were shielded by his aviators: “I hope you all took something out of that,” he began, “They may not be naval aviators, but they are your flight instructors, and I trust that all of you learn something from them. I can tell you right now, they are without a doubt more skilled than any of you are, even the more experienced ones”. At this, Allie and I looked at each other. She gave a cocky smirk and brought her eyes back to her dad, but I kept my gaze on her. The breeze that was created by the other Texan’s that the fourth years were now flying kept hitting her, causing her hair to slowly come out of its tight bun, strands blowing around in the wind. Her blonde hair was even more prominent now against the green of the flight suit than they were against the deep red of her sweater last Friday. Shit! Her sweater. It was still sitting in the front seat of my new bronco. A car that he gave me as a gift for being admitted into the Naval Academy, which is a hilarious reasoning given the circumstances. I knew that this “gift” was really an unofficial way of him asking me to visit. But honestly, why would I? I had nothing to say to him, and God knows I would NEVER spend another Thanksgiving, Easter, or Christmas with him ever again! Never.

“And now, to the locker rooms,” Admiral Campbell said, “You have a present waiting for you”. He turned his body and began walking towards the doors that we came out of over an hour ago. Shit! I completely missed what he said, being lost in my own thoughts of him.

I watched as classmates passed me and made their ways to the doors, finding myself frozen. Frozen in a physical and mental sense. Allie passed me as well, which now left me in the back of the pack, watching everyone walk through the door. I used this as my opportunity to talk with her, since more and more witnesses were now indoors, especially her father.

I started walking and increased my pace to a light jog so I could catch up to her, which I did in a matter of seconds: “You could have told me,” I said calmly, but making it clear that my patience was rattled.

She looked over her shoulder at me and decreased her pace, “You never asked,” she said to me, dropping her head and looking at the ground as we made our way closer and closer to the door.

“Don’t pin this on me! I told you that I was in the aviation program here, and you never even thought ‘well hey! Maybe I should tell him that I’m his Goddamn flight instructor’”.

She froze at this, letting out a big “huff” as her body turned towards mine: “Look,” she said to me, putting on that same calm tone in her voice that she gave me the day I hurt my hand with that ‘rehearsed speech’ of hers, “If I would have known that I was your flight instructor, yes, I probably would have said something. But I didn’t know anything until this morning, and besides, it’s not like I could have given you a warning this morning in King Hall because you weren’t there. Instead, you were sitting around in the hospital, waiting for me”.

“How did you-” I started to ask, then froze as I assumed the answer to my own question, “You nurses really hear everything don’t you?”

She gave me a ‘no shit’ look and then turned her body, aiming towards the door, but I was able to grab onto her arm before she could move an inch. “Why didn’t you at least tell me about your dad?” I asked, still keeping a calmed tone in my voice. I have learned that the best way to get anywhere with her is if you kept your composure as best you could.

Whenever I got mad or frustrated, she would too. She always matched my energy, and I could tell that this hypothesis was correct because she immediately lost a bunch of tension in her body, relaxing a little as she looked down at my hand that was wrapped around her bicep. Her mouth was slightly open, and her breath increased a little. She looked at me with a gentle look in her eyes as she continued to breathe. She closed her mouth, and I noticed her eyes became a little hard, “Well,” she began, in her all too familiar sassy tone: “I would have had time to get to that, but I was underwater”. She shook off my arm and made her way to the door. Damn. Right when I thought I had her figured out.

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lindsaywesker · 1 year

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Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Throwback Thursday!

On this page, ‘Throwback Thursday’ is about memories. So, what do you remember? If I was to say the word ALCOHOL, what immediately comes to mind?

For me, the first thing that comes to mind is the last time I got really, really drunk. I’m talking about sitting on the toilet floor with my head in the bowl! I must have been about 14? Me and my mate Lewis had decided to drink Special Brew! Why? I do not know. Oh, yes, it got us drunk but, suddenly, my head was spinning and my guts did not feel good! As you sit on a toilet floor, sporadically spewing-up, you suddenly become very philosophical. Right there and then, I vowed, never again! I know my limitations. I’ll quite happily drink a cold pint of something light like Asahi, Efes or Peroni but I steer well clear of the really strong beers. If I do spirits, yes, I’ll do a double but always with a lot of ice and a mixer. I do not need Dutch courage! I’ve got all the bloody courage I need! Strangely, at The Ibiza Soul Festival, I drank brandy and chocolate milk all day every day for seven days but I never got drunk!

On this Throwback Thursday, what kind of memories does the word ALCOHOL conjure up for you?

Yesterday, in class, we were talking about innovation and all the technological advances that have actually changed the way we live in the last 20-30 years: the internet, broadband, DAWs (digital audio workstations), social media, streaming etc. And then I asked, “What has been lost along the way?” The list on my slides contained record companies, record shops, vinyl pressing plants, recording studios, newspapers, magazines etc. But one of my students said, “Hardship.” He’s only a young man, so his word really surprised me but I replied, “Yes, you are absolutely right!”

When I was growing up, I had to save my pocket money to buy singles or albums at Les Aldrich in Muswell Hill or Harum Records in Crouch End, save up my pocket money to see my favourite bands at The Rainbow in Finsbury Park, there were two radio stations worth listening to (Radio One + Radio Luxembourg), there was just two TV channels (BBC + ITV), I slept in a sleeping bag outside Earl’s Court in order to queue for Led Zeppelin tickets.

I had no real dreams of being pop star but, if I wanted to record my music, I had to save hard to book time in a recording studio. What my young student was basically saying is that young people don’t really appreciate or value music but it’s so easily accessible. Nobody ever suffers any hardship; it’s all there at the click of a button. He was basically saying that music is so easily accessible, it has lost its value. If I wanted a track on an album, and it wasn’t being released as a single, I would buy the album. Ten quid for one song! These days, kids pay £10 a month for their Spotify subscription and have access to 158 million tracks.

Apologies if you didn’t see yesterday’s status. It got posted, as usual. It contained a few controversial subjects and a few controversial words, so I think it got bumped down the rotation. The stuff I write can be found in any newspaper or any news website. It’s not really controversial, it’s just life!

Have a throbbing and thrusting Thursday (with hopefully a few thrills through your thoroughfare?) I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #weekend #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #radio

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your-dietician · 2 years

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Inside Dr. Pepperberg’s Lab: Play Is the Thing—If It Is the Right Type!

New Post has been published on https://medianwire.com/inside-dr-pepperbergs-lab-play-is-the-thing-if-it-is-the-right-type/

Inside Dr. Pepperberg’s Lab: Play Is the Thing—If It Is the Right Type!

We all know that providing our parrots with different types of toys improves their lives. Even my parrots, who spend a considerable amount of every day involved in research, also get plenty of time to play. But each individual bird has individual preferences, and it is important to recognize what actually is “fun” for a given bird. Just cluttering their cages with lots of stuff isn’t necessarily the best option, although that might be necessary initially until it is clear what types of toys are preferred.

Griffin, unlike most parrots, likes only one type of toy in his cage, and only a few other items elsewhere. We roll up several sheets of construction paper, feather the ends, tie the middle with a piece of rawhide, and fasten it to his cage. He’s 27 years old, and we’ve tried numerous other items…he pays attention to nothing else. However, when he’s on a flat surface, he loves to play with spoons. He rotates and flips them and seems to get quite a charge out of testing gravity—tossing the spoons off the edge of a surface and waiting for his human companions to pick them up and return them. He adores ‘spoon tickles’—when a human uses the spoon to gently scratch his head. He also likes to play with very small clear plastic cups and small jar lids, rolling them around and chewing on them; tossing them to the floor also seems to be fun.

Athena seemed to like many different objects at first, but we’ve learned that such is not the case. She does enjoy certain foraging toys and will prefer to use them to obtain the same food she can get for “free” from her food dishes. She loves to chew flannel. She does not, however, like to chew hard plastic. As for wood…well, we recently found that it has to be softwood! We noticed that she was ignoring all the lovely hardwood toys in her cage and destroying her expensive perches quite quickly—but only those made of softer wood. And we noticed that she didn’t seem to like colored wood (maybe because she associates colors with ‘work’—having to vocally identify the colors before she gets the wood for play!).

One of my research associates brought in a toy made of round pieces of balsa wood. Athena took about a minute to accept it and about 30 mins to destroy it totally! We contacted the company that had been supplying our soft wooden perches (Parrot Wizard—thank you!!) and asked if they had some toys made out of the same product. We ordered a batch, which Athena also promptly destroyed (though these, being a bit more complex, took her a day or two each). She was extremely happy and we also noticed another benefit…she had been doing a certain amount of hormonal feather plucking/chewing of her chest feathers, and that stopped as soon as she received these soft wooden toys! We are going to keep ordering them, but also will order some toy pieces from another company to see if we can construct some interesting items to rotate with the expensive toys make the latter last a bit longer….

All this is not to say that you shouldn’t give your birds a specific type of toy and that you should only give them another particular type of toy—it is to say that we need to pay attention to the individual likes and dislikes of a given parrot. Just like humans, what one bird finds fun, another bird might dislike, and vice versa. For example, I have a dear friend who spends hours each day playing video games, but I find even the thought of doing that completely aversive! And while I love to read books, another friend much prefers audio books. I could go on and on, but I’m sure we are all familiar with similar situations—so why not accept that such is the case for our avian companions?

Playing with Food

We are actually studying this behavior scientifically, though not with standard parrot toys—we are in the process of examining a behavior called ‘contrafreeloading’—defined as working for food that can simultaneously be obtained for free, a study inspired by Athena’s behavior with her foraging toys. Our thesis is that birds will contrafreeload IF they view the task involved as play-like rather than work-like (Smith et al., 2021); that is, something fun to do in addition to/along with getting the food item. We’ve found that a task in which one parrot will engage in order to obtain food is very often one that another parrot will ignore in order to choose the free food. Even for something as mundane as shelling almonds…Athena and another parrot in our study preferred to shell the nut rather than simply eat one from which the shell had already been removed; Griffin and two other parrots preferred that the humans do the shelling for them! (We’ve also been looking at species differences, but more about that next month.) To each his own….

References:

Smith, G.E., Greene, D., Hartsfield, L.A., & Pepperberg, I.M. (2021). Initial evidence for contrafreeloading in Grey parrots via the opportunity for playful foraging. Journal of Comparative Psychology, 135(4), 516-533. doi: 10.1037/com0000295

Read full article here

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jeweledfrogcreations · 2 years

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Remember what you came for

Remember what you came here for

Let me define “here”. Not here as in this blog post but here in this creative part of life. That spot. I came for freedom of expression. To work on the ability to express myself. To hone that and make it clear. I wanted to do that for my healing. For my life. To have a purposeful life. One that I felt included in and loved in. To be acknowledged in. Valued in. In my life, I have had very good fortune and I have had very bad fortune. Fortune is transient. Just like health or popularity. It moves freely. So I always try and keep that initial feeling of why I wanted to do what I am doing. If that feeling is still that strong push and desire, that craving. That tickly feeling in your heart. Then I know that I’m still in the right place.

But what happens when things are hard

I spend hours on the internet applying for jobs and sending submissions to companies. Some I really don’t have the qualifications but I have enough of them to know I could give it a fair shot. Some I am overqualified for. After all, I have been on the planet 61 rotations. I have learned a lot and I have worked a lot. It can be exhausting to have no calls, and sometimes the rejection emails are few and far. It feels like dropping the penny in the well. Time after Time.

Now Put all of this action and now add keeping your own algorithm going and creating and practicing so that new styles and new looks can be put into it Keep up with today’s standards so that I would be found lacking. I was lacking so pretty substantial components in my portfolio that I am having to remedy now. it. It can feel like you are spinning plates in the air and thinking of all the ways that they can come crashing down on you.

I don’t say these things to say oh look at me I’m so stressed. I just say them because that is what it is. The truth. It just is what it is. Do I get overwhelmed? Yes.

How can this even be doable you may wonder

I have always made sure that I could take a nap or some moment of the day alone. To have my tea or coffee. I have also gotten very creative during times of change or just rediscovery, and that has been very therapeutic and cathartic. The creative process and the required focus and artistic expression can be a wonderful path to follow when trying to figure out a new adventure or leave an old one. To dream, to create, express your voice. People do it with paper or makeup or yard work or gardening. It’s that meditative state that frees up the mind from anxiety and fear and and allows that supportive voice to start to talke and present new options and self-discovery.

Journaling…

Is a wonderful way to get you to think outside the box. I use Journaling and tarot cards to inspire me on what to write or to give me a different perspective on a problem or if I’m thinking about a new direction in my art. I have included some of my collection of tarot cards here on my website if you would like to purchase them. This helps me in creating income for my studio by the use of these amazon links. So here is the one I used for this post.Seasons of the Witch. Back to what I was saying, this is used as prompt or a muse in this example. The journey entry is usually small and focused on what is going through my pink little head at the time. Could be what to do a TikTok on, you never know. Last night I spent a whole night on an octopus and a steampunk diving helmet. LOL, But it made me feel good. I pulled myself out of some huge anxiety issues. This morning I was like wow that was really good.

But, and here is the BUT. WE hold the key to our futures. WE hold that. No one else holds that key. WE are the only ones who can use that key. We have to put it in the lock and turn it and open the door. And walk into that world. The one that we are the captains of our own ship. That WE choose what way to sail.

When things get tough or hard even when they are easy, Remember what you came for. And I will be posting my work on this in tomorrows blog posting. Why don’t you give it a go and I’ll post what you have come up with or post on your own blog and link me. I would love to see it. So Until tomorrow lets make some art. Lots of love bye for now

#journaling #tarot #artwork #creative art #therapy #self improvement

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drabbles-mc · 2 years

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Pressing Matters

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

Combining 2 Anonymous requests: if you’re interested I’d love to see him jealous but this time when ur in an established relationship and if you could pls do one of a situation in which his bodyguard flirts with you and how Carrillo goes about it

Warnings: Horacio being just the tiniest bit ridiculous

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I can’t lie, writing relationship jealousy has never been my strong suit or something that I do often in my writing. Getting through this was tough for me solely because it was hard to picture a way it would all come together. I hope that it all came together alright!

Narcos Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @bruxasolta @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @alm0501 @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @supersanelyromantic (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!)

You remembered when Horacio came home and told you that there was going to be an extra security detail put on your shared home, and by extension, on you. It wasn’t a smooth conversation, and there was a long stretch of time after that filled with a lot of not-smooth conversations. It had been a tough pill to swallow, knowing that things really were that dangerous, and that your life was going to be changed for the foreseeable future over it.

At first, you had to admit that Horacio wasn’t the only one who caught the brunt of your frustration. Not that he really deserved the attitude, but if he didn’t deserve it, the men assigned to be your security definitely didn’t. They gave you as much space as they possibly could while still doing their jobs. You weren’t sure if that was by instruction of Horacio, or if they were just smart enough and had enough self-preservation skills to keep their distance. Either way, it was a quiet and tense transition.

The longer it all went on, though, you realized that it wasn’t all that bad. That they weren’t all that bad either. It was a short list of men on the rotation, Horacio made sure of it. There were so few people that he trusted in general, and even fewer that he trusted with keeping you safe. You got to know them all decently well. You didn’t share your deepest, darkest secrets, but when you got past your initial frustration with everything, you found that they were perfectly pleasant to talk to.

You’d grown comfortable around them all, and you supposed that there was no avoiding that. But the one you got along with the best was a young man named Diego. He was a couple years older than you, and a handful of years younger than Carrillo. You chalked up your friendship-like dynamic to the fact that he was the closest to you in age, and had the warmest disposition out of all of the men in the rotation. You didn’t think too much of it, though. After all, he was just someone hired to make sure that no one tried to kidnap you or take you out.

There was one man stationed in a car outside, and Diego was posted up in the house with you. It was quiet, and lucky for you pretty much all the days were. It was getting to the point where you thought the protective detail was unnecessary, no longer out of bitterness but out of the feeling that it was a waste of resources.

“Do you ever get bored?” you asked him as you set about getting things ready for dinner.

“Sorry?” he looked away from the window and over to you.

“Do you ever get bored? Being here, I mean,” you pulled a pot and lid out of the cabinet, “instead of being out there with the rest of the team.”

He shook his head as he walked closer to the kitchen, “Not bored. This is just as important.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that spilled past your lips, “I’m, I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “but you cannot compare being assigned to my house, to being out there searching for Escobar.”

He sat down on the other side of the counter that you were prepping at, “They’re not the same, but it still matters just as much,” the smirk on his face was telling, to say the least, “Plus, no offense to the Colonel, but you’re much nicer to look at, and easier to talk to.”

It was all harmless, so you let it slide. You smiled, shaking your head as you looked down at your cutting board, going through the motions, “Nice to know that Horacio hasn’t trained all the charm out of you.”

“No one can,” the smirk blossomed into a complete boyish grin as he watched you from across the counter.

“I don’t doubt that,” you chuckled.

The two of you fell into an easy conversation. The pauses between topics weren’t awkward, both of you being quite accustomed to silence by this point. He was always quick with a joke or a witty comment, and you had to admit it was refreshing to see someone who was part of the Search Bloc still have a little bit of light and humor in them. Behind closed doors, Horacio was still soft with you, and he knew how to make you laugh without fail, but that wasn’t behavior that you would ever see from him in front of his men. And you understood that. The other men in his charge had that same type of reserved personality. Apparently Diego missed the memo, or ignored it completely. It was a nice change of pace, though.

You were laughing at an offhand comment he’d made when the door opened, Carrillo striding into the house. You looked over your shoulder from the stove, the smile on your face widening when you saw him, home safe for another night.

He looked back and forth between you and the young man who was getting up from his seat at the counter, “Everything alright here today?”

You nodded, “Another quiet day. I was actually just telling Diego not too long ago that you should probably be using your men for more pressing matters."

Horacio opened his mouth to respond, but Diego didn’t give him the chance, “And I told her that this is just as pressing of a matter as anything else.”

If he hadn’t capped the statement with that same grin that he’d given you before, Carrillo might not have thought twice about it. But he saw the smile, and he also saw the way you chuckled and shook your head in response. You missed the slight clench in his jaw at the quick interaction between the two of you.

“Get home safe, Diego, please,” you gave him a nod of dismissal, but there was still a polite smile on your face as you did it.

“Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to come back again tomorrow,” he chuckled.

“You’re dismissed, Ramírez,” Horacio cut the conversation off before the banter could continue any further.

Diego’s expression sobered a bit as he gave a nod to his commanding officer, “Right. Have a good night, Colonel.”

You waited for him to leave, for the door to click shut behind him before walking over to Horacio and pulling him in close. You smiled at him as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, a greeting you tried to hold off on until the extra eyes and ears were gone from the house. He kissed you back, but you could feel a type of tension in his body.

“Everything alright?” you asked, resting your palm against his chest.

“Ramírez,” his brows furrowed slightly.

“Mhm?” you tilted your head, “What about him?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment, and you could see that he was trying to think of how he wanted to say what he was thinking. You afforded him a few moments before offering up a statement of your own.

“Do you need him somewhere else?”

“No,” his stare was fixed to the wall, and you wished you could just reach and pull the thoughts out of his head so you knew what he was thinking.

“I’m good, Horacio, but I’m not mind-reader good,” you laughed softly, reaching up to run your thumb over his temple, “What’s going on up here?”

“Nothing,” he gave a slight shake of his head.

You laughed, “That’s not true. Hey,” you cupped his chin, “whatever it is, you’ll figure it out,” you gave him another light kiss on the lips before getting back to finishing up dinner.

The next morning was quiet, each of you going about your usual routines to get ready for the day. You’d completely moved past and forgotten the brief exchange that happened between you and Horacio the night before. He hadn’t, though. Dwelling on it wasn’t the right word, but he certainly didn’t forget about it.

There was a knock at the door, and you knew that there weren’t a whole lot of options for who would be showing up to your house so early in the morning. But you still checked, just to be safe. Peeking past the curtain of your window, you saw the familiar car parked on the side of the street and the same young man from the day before waiting patiently on your front step.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open and offered up a smile with your greeting, “Good morning, Diego,” you shut the door behind him, “Long time, no see.”

He chuckled, “Any good stories for me? Anything new?”

Shaking your head, you laughed, “Not much. Coffee?” it was a blanket offer you put out to all the men who showed up, knowing that their days started long before they landed in your house.

“Sure, thank you,” he moseyed his way closer to the counter.

Before he could sit down or get comfortable, Carrillo came striding in, giving you a slight shake of his head before turning his attention to the young officer in front of him, “Ramírez, a word,” he gestured towards the door.

He looked confused but he didn’t fight him on it or hesitate. You watched curiously as both men stepped outside, Horacio pulling the door shut behind them. It wasn’t your business, but the tenseness that had been surrounding Horacio since last night, and the puzzled expression on Diego’s face definitely piqued your interest. You slowly made your way over to the window, trying to catch a glimpse or at least hear what was going on between the two of them.

“Everything alright, Colonel?”

Horacio crossed his arms over his chest, “You’re not stationed here today.”

“What?” he couldn’t even attempt to hide the confusion on his face.

“You’re back at Carlos Holguin,” he gave a dismissive nod towards the car.

Diego’s brows furrowed, “I still have one more shift on my rotation,” he gestured to the house, “What about Y/N—”

Horacio cut him off, “She’s not your concern,” his tone was short, biting, “I’ll handle this.”

And then it hit you, what it was really all about. You saw the look on Carrillo’s face at the sound of someone else saying your name. You pinned your lips together to stifle a laugh, unable to really believe what was happening, why it was happening. For all the composure that Horacio mustered on a regular basis, one of his men finally managed to touch just the right nerve with him, and you doubted that the kid even knew.

“Alright, but what about—”

“This isn’t a discussion. You can either go back to Holguin to get your new assignment, or you can go home.”

Despite the fact that they couldn’t see or hear you, you still found yourself covering your mouth with your hand, eyebrows nearly reaching the top of your forehead. You never really knew what Horacio was like at work, but you’d never heard him speaking quite like that. You wondered if that was how he was with his men even when you weren’t part of the equation.

“Right,” the youthful pep drained out of him immediately as he crumpled under the weight of Carrillo’s gaze, “I’ll just,” he glanced at the house for a moment before nodding, “I’ll head back. Thank you, sir.”

Carrillo didn’t say anything more as he leaned back against the door of the house, waiting for the officer in front of him to turn around and head back towards his car. It wasn’t until the car was pulling away from the curb that he let his shoulders relax a bit. You quickly made your way back to the kitchen before he came back inside.

Looking up when the door opened, you tilted your head slightly, asking as though you didn’t know the answer already, “Everything alright?”

He nodded, making his way towards the kitchen, “Yes.”

“No Diego?”

“No.”

“Oh,” you tried to suppress your smile, “Are you covering for him today, then?”

“Is that alright?” he arched one eyebrow.

You laughed, nodding, “Of course. I just didn’t think that you could stay.”

“Won’t always be the case, but I thought you didn’t like having my men here anyway?”

“That’s fair, I’d much rather have you,” you watched him from the corner of your eye, deciding to stir the pot a bit, “Diego’s a nice kid, though. I don’t particularly mind him.”

“I noticed,” the response came before he could think better of it.

You looked over at him, a smug grin on your face, “Oh did you?”

“Also noticed that he didn’t particularly mind you either,” he shook his head slightly.

“Horacio,” you stepped in closer to him, “Did you dismiss your officer because you were jealous?”

There was a split second where embarrassment flashed across his face. His stern, professional façade quickly taking back over, “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”

You didn’t stop smiling, “Okay. If you say so,” you paused, reaching for your mug of coffee, “What happens next time he’s on the rotation?”

He took the coffee mug from you, the tiniest bit of a smirk attempting to tug at the corner of his mouth, “Won’t happen.”

#narcos #narcos netflix #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos netflix fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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hoodharlow · 3 years

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Don’t Move, Honey

AN: Y'all were supposed to get a fluffy Disneyland fic with light smut but Calum decided to be a whore and y'all are getting this. Also fuck Tumblr for eating this when I queued this.

Requested: Yes by my #CECOC anon and @nowherebound who engraved the idea of riding Calum's face with the mullet

Warnings: smut, use of sextoys, talks about recording a sextape (spoiler lol), and blink and you'll miss it voyeurism

Word Count: 3.9k words

Calum tripped over his Docs when he kicked them off. He bolted upstairs to his room. Earlier, when he was getting ready to drive back from a guy's trip, they had a very intense facetime call. Claudia sent him a few explicit pictures of her in only his white jersey with his last name in the back. He called her and one thing led to another. Now he stood alone and hard in an empty room.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and facetimed her. He laid back on his bed. Duke came in and nuzzled him for some overdue cuddles.

“Bueno?” She answered. She placed her phone on the shopping cart and smiled down at him.

“Where are you?” He asked, sitting up.

“Target. Remember when I said you were getting a treat?” she asked him. He nodded. “Well, I’m buying stuff to make you a chocoflan.”

Claudia stopped pushing and got on her tippy toes to reach for the cocoa powder, allowing Calum to admire how her ass looked in her leggings. She looked around and smirked to herself seeing that she had the aisle all to herself. She gave him her back and pulled down her top, exposing her breasts. She covered them with the two different brands of cocoa powder.

“Which brand did you like again?” She asked him.

Calum sat up. He looked behind her making sure no was in the aisle.

“Fuck.” he murmured. He switched the camera so that it was facing his mirror and slowly began stroking himself over his sweats. He pushed his hips up and with one hand he tugged down his sweats, exposing his cock. He rubbed the tip and rubbed himself. “Are you coming home soon? I need my pretty girl’s mouth on my cock.”

Claudia squeezed her thighs together. It has been almost two weeks since she last saw Calum. She needed him desperately. Her toys helped somewhat relieve her ache, but it wasn't the same as him fucking her. Even the dildo that was made from a mold in the shape of his cock, that he got her as a gag gift for Christmas, didn't do the job.

"No, I have to go to school and drop off some paperwork. I'll be home in an hour. Can you wait?" She asked.

"I waited almost two weeks, an hour is nothing." He said.

"Okay." she said pulling her top up as a woman walked passed her. "I'll see you in a bit then. I love you."

"I love you." Calum said before hanging up.

He sighed. He just lied to Claudia and told her that he could wait an hour. He really couldn't. He needed her badly.

He pulled his sweats and rolled into bed. He pulled Duke in for a cuddle, but the old puppy shrugged him off. He scoffed as Duke hopped off the bed and wandered out of the room.

Calum pushed himself off the bed and went to the bathroom. He quickly got himself off and went back to bed. Other than being extremely horny for his lovely girlfriend, he was tired. He spent the past two weeks hanging out and partying with his friends. He needed some rest.

He got in bed and laid on his back. After fifteen minutes of tossing and turning, Calum called his trainer and asked if he could squeeze him in for a session. Jesse responded instantly and told him that he'd be there in fifteen.

Calum unbuttoned his flannel and reached for the white jersey Claudia had left on the floor next to her dildo and vibrator. He pulled off his sweats and grabbed some black USC shorts from his duffle bag. When he caught himself in the mirror, he finally got why his girlfriend always complimented his ass. He decided to pull a Claudia and send her a booty pic. He pulled his shorts just below where his ass curved and snapped a few pictures. He saw the pictures and sighed, he tried his best not to think about Claudia on her knees in front of him gripping his ass as she sucked him off.

He sent her the pictures and added 'wish you were on your knees with your hands on me'. Claudia responded with crying emojis. To get him back she sent him a few explicit pictures of herself with her toys. She was saving them for another desert trip but now seemed like the perfect time to torture him.

Calum cursed after seeing her pictures. The one time he wanted to have the upper hand, she still managed to make him suffer. He locked his phone and went downstairs after hearing Duke bark. He picked him up and opened the door. He let Jesse into the backyard while he set up Duke's fenced area so he could be outside with them.

***

"Alright one more set on each side and we're done." Jesse said.

Calum nodded. He reached for the band and pulled it toward him while he rotated his body. His arms ached. When was out on his trip he barely worked out. In the house they rented out there was a home gym so he occasionally ran the treadmill and did a bit of weight training. It didn't compare to what Jesse was having him do.

"And zero. Alright we're done for today." Jesse said.

"Thank fuck." Calum mumbled.

He did his cool down stretches and then walked him out, agreeing to meet in two days. When he walked in the kitchen he was met with a chocoflan beautifully displayed on top of the center counter.

Claudia was home.

Calum grabbed his HydroFlask and jogged upstairs to their room. He found Claudia in one of his shirts and some sweatpants typing away on her laptop. He remembered that she was lesson planning for her internship at the magnet middle school in Boyle Heights. He was proud of her, despite everything that went down last summer, she was able to pick herself up and start fresh. She was doing something she loved and that made Calum happy.

He tiptoed over to her and kissed her head. Claudia pulled him down and kissed him.

"I felt your treat in the kitchen." she mumbled against his lips.

"I saw. I'm gonna shower." He said before kissing her once more.

Claudia slapped his ass as he walked passed, startling him. She giggled as he covered himself in case she wanted to smack his ass again.

He quickly showered and walked out naked to get his boxers. He felt Claudia's eyes on him. He turned and looked at her just as she went back to work. He put on a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers. He scrolled through his phone, checking the group chat with the guys. Luke was asking if he should finally announce his engagement with Sierra. Calum jokingly responded to wait until the following day since he was going to post later in the day.

He went to his side of the bed and connected his phone to the charger when he noticed Claudia was fully covered by her clothes. One thing he knew about her is that she always showed skin. If she wore pants or sweats, she'd wear a crop top or just wear a sports bra. And if she wore one of his shirts or hoodies, she only wore panties under, but if they had people over she wore shorts under. Then the only time when she would be fully clothed was in the winter. Seeing her in his shirt and in sweatpants at the start of June left him wondering.

What was she up to?

But decided to put the question on pause. He finally felt sleepy.

"Can I nap here while you work?" He asked her.

"This is your bed. You can nap here." she giggled. She reached for the files on his side and placed them on the floor.

Calum awkwardly crawled into bed. He laid on his back, not wanting to move in case it distracted Claudia. He closed his eyes and let sleep take over. Not even ten minutes later, he felt something wrap around his waist. He opened his eyes and saw Claudia's leg. In his sleep he ended up laying on his side so he laid on his back, allowing her to wedge her leg between his and hug his side. They both fell into a deep slumber, wrapped up in each other's arms.

Calum woke up an hour later. Claudia was still sleeping peacefully at his side. He ran his fingers over her soft curls, but it got him thinking about wrapping her hair around his hand as he fucked her face. He pictured her clearly. A proud smirk on her face as she opened her mouth wider for him. He cursed and let go of her hair.

Claudia lifted her head and pouted. "Why did you stop playing with my hair?"

"Because I'm this close to coming in my pants." He groaned sitting up to fix his pants.

"That's okay. I can just clean up the mess." She said, nonchalantly. "You know I don't mind… cleaning you up."

Calum came up with a snarky remark only for Claudia's stomach to speak up before him.

"Sorry, I haven't eaten since breakfast, unless you count the matcha lemonde I got at the Starbucks in Target." she giggled.

"We can't have that." He said. He grabbed his phone. "Let me order you some carne asada fries."

"So food then sexy time?"

"Yes, food then sexy time."

***

After food there was no sexy time.

They were on the couch settling down to finally get it on when Ashton blew Calum's phone up, asking him to record a video of him playing the piano. They tried to ignore him, but he ended up calling Calum on the landline. He went to the guest room and put on a grey smiley face hoodie and some sweats. He propped his phone next to where he placed his songs and began playing. He began recording himself.

Half an hour passed and Claudia got restless. One of her many weaknesses was Calum playing the piano. She couldn't explain why, but seeing him play always left her wanting to get on her knees for him. She tried sitting next to him on the bench, but he shot her a warning look. She noticed Calum was in the zone so he wouldn't see what she's up to.

She ran up upstairs to get her vibrator. Before she left their room, she took off her shirt and sweatpants. She returned to the living and Calum was still playing. She sat on the couch and started taking a few selfies in the lingerie set she wore. It was a red mesh set. The bra cleverly covered her nipples while the panties did nothing to cover how much she needed Calum. It also didn't help that they were crotchless. Though they did help in giving her easy access to get herself off.

She laid on the couch, propping one leg on top of the back part while her other leg was planted on the floor. She didn't even bother teasing her clit with her fingers, she was that ready for Calum. She slid her fingers in and turned on her vibrator to the lowest setting, not wanting to have the sounds reach his phone. She sighed feeling the vibrations on her clit. With that she let her fingers get to work.

She immediately moaned out for him as she got closer to climax. Claudia felt it. She sped up her fingers and circled the vibrator on her clit roughly. She was so close. Calum's name was at the tip of her tongue when she felt nothing.

Calum towered over her, vibrator in his hand. Before Claudia could even react, he tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to their room. Seeing in her red, always left him with a hard on, especially if it was lingerie. But seeing her in a red mesh set and getting herself off? He was doomed. He desperately needed to be inside her.

He gently threw her on the bed and took off his clothes, staying in his boxers. He got on top of her and leaned down to kiss her.

They moaned into each other's mouths finally kissing how they craved. Calum held himself up in a push up position and took Claudia in, playing a movie in his head about all the positions they would be doing.

"What are you doing?" She asked. She pushed down his beanie and smoothed down his curls.

"Just wanna remember you like this for my next trip." he said quickly. He ran his fingers over the material on her breasts. Her nipples hardened as he ran his thumb over them. "I think this is my favorite set. I can still hear your whimpers from when you wore it on Valentine's Day. Nice to see you got the chocolate stain off your tits."

Claudia giggled. She sat up against the pillow and intertwined her fingers with his, making him look up at her. "What if you have the material at hand?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, what if you had a video of us, of me in this set, doing stuff…"

Calum furrowed his eyebrows together, confused. "I don't understand."

"What if we made a sextape? You can have the video with you when you're on tour or just out of town and we can't FaceTime for whatever reason. That way you can get off."

"A sextape of us?"

"I mean yeah. Unless you can get Tyler Posey to join us or just to fuck me." she joked.

Calum laughed sarcastically at her comment. He rolled off her legs and sat across from her. "Are you sure? About us making the video. I don't want you to feel pressured."

"If I'm being honest, I wanted to make one with you when you were on tour with the Chainsmokers. I never brought it up then because we were only dating for a few months. Now we've been together for two years."

Calum sat quiet, weighing his options. He always felt bad calling her in the middle of the night when he was out of town and needy for her moans. Now with the band finally getting to go back on tour, there would be time differences that wouldn't be ideal for them. But he didn't want to risk exposing her and ruining her reputation. Being a teacher is her dream and a sex tape of her out on the internet could hinder that.

"I want to, but we can't. I don't want to risk someone hacking out iCloud accounts and releasing it to the world. It could cost you a job in the future." He said.

"I was thinking we could record it on my GoPro and just transfer the video to a USB drive. We'd store it in your safe and only take it out when you leave. I trust you, Cal." Claudia said. "If it does get leaked, we can start a couples OnlyFans, so I don't stay unemployed and you can make extra cash."

"I doubt anyone would pay for us."

"You really think your fans wouldn't pay to see how you fuck? To hear the lovely sounds you make when you come. Please, we'd be so rich."

Calum laughed. "I suppose. Jokes aside, are you really sure?'

"1000%."

"Where's your GoPro?"

Claudia clapped her hands excitedly. She hugged him and got up. She pushed the sliding door of their walk-in closet open and went inside. Where her shoes were she had a box of miscellaneous items. She rummaged through it, pulling out the small camera. She went back out and closed the door. She connected it to her computer to see how long they'd have to wait for it to charge, surprisingly it was at 85%. She placed it back on the tripod.

"All set. We just need to figure out what we're gonna do." She said,

"How about you ride my face? I always wanted to see how we look." Calum offered.

She nodded. "Then I can go down on you. Or I go down on you then you go down on me, since that way you can hard so you'll be ready to fuck me."

"Doggystyle or our usual missionary." He asked.

"Doggystyle would look hot, especially when you fuck me facing the mirror." Claudia suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Doggystyle it is."

"I have one request though…"

"What is it?"

"Can you change back into the flannel and sweats you wore when you FaceTimed me at Target?"

***

Calum leaned back on his elbows, as Claudia sucked him off. He reached forward and pulled her hair into a makeshift ponytail, so the camera could get her and her ungodly mouth. He gently pushed her back as he thrusted his hips into her mouth.

"Fuck, pretty girl." he moaned loudly.

He stood up and kept fucking Claudia's mouth. He maneuvered them so that the camera got his backside as she pushed up his flannel to his waist and dug her nails into his ass. He felt close so he loosened her grip on her and let her finish him off.

Claudia jerked him off on her tongue then she slipped him back in her mouth. She swirled her tongue and bobbed her head. Calum moaned and whimpered, begging her to make him come. She only had his tip in her mouth and stroked him. His climax came out of nowhere. He whined and cursed as she continued taking him until he was empty.

Calum slowly pulled out of her. Claudia opened her mouth, proudly showing him that she swallowed every last bit of him.

"That's my pretty girl." Calum said. He bent down and kissed her. He let his hand wander down to her chest to her core. He slid his ring and middle finger in her and pulled them out. "Fuck you're ready to sit on my face aren't you pretty girl."

"Yes. I want your tongue to make me come. I missed it so much." Claudia said sweetly to him.

Calum pressed a chaste kiss on her temple. Claudia tugged him down to the floor where they had a comforter spread out to prevent them from getting tired against the hardwood floor. Their kiss deepened and without breaking their kiss, she laid him down. They kissed with so much urgency.

Finally, Claudia settled above his face, pressing her hands against the mirror doors in front of them. Calum looked up at her from between her legs with the most caring eyes. He leaned upward, needing her hips closer to his face, pressing her dripping core against his tongue.

She gasped when he dipped his tongue into her.

Claudia moaned loudly, resting her head on her arm as one of her hands dropped to his hair. She tightly gripped his curls as she swayed her hips against his tongue. He brought one of his hands to her core and slipped his ring and middle finger in her. His other hand made her way to her breasts to play with her nipples.

Claudia threw her head back and moaned his name. He groaned lowly.

“Fuck, don’t stop, right there. Fuck me so good.” Claudia panted. She wiggled her hips on his face, riding his tongue as she came. He sucked her clit through her high, making her a moaning mess.

“Holy shit, Cal,” she sighed breathlessly.

Claudia pulled away and sat on his tummy. She laid down on top of him, and felt him wrap his arms around her.

"You did so good, pretty girl." Calum whispered. He smoothed back her hair and kissed her cheek. "We can stop. With what we have, I'm good."

"I just need five minutes." Claudia mumbled. She reached over for the GoPro and turned it off while they rested.

After the five minutes passed, Calum turned on the GoPro. He gently pushed Claudia on her back. They slowly kissed.

Without pulling away from their kiss, Calum placed her leg on his shoulder. One of his hands made its way back to her hips and lazily ran his finger tips around her core, sending her goosebumps all over. With the other, he balanced himself so he wouldn't squish her.

She sighed against his lips; she could never get tired of how his lips felt against hers. She pulled away and gasped as he pulled his middle and ring fingers out of her.

Claudia rolled her eyes as he exaggeratedly licked his fingers clean. She pushed his hand down and leaned down to kiss him. She moaned as his fingers fucked into her at a deliciously slow pace. Her hips followed Calum’s fingers. In a matter of minutes she was close.

“Cal—”

“I know, pretty girl.” He pressed his thumb against her clit and increased his pace.

“Sh—Calum.” She moaned out. She gripped his hand as she came.

"Hands and knees, pretty girl." Calum said. He leaned down and kissed her before he sat on his knees.

Claudia stood on her knees and fixed her panties. She laid on her stomach with her ass in the air.

He took his time stroking himself as he lined up with Claudia’s entrance. With one hand on her hip, he used the other to guide his cock. He rubbed his length up and down her slit. Claudia knew this was him getting back at her as he continued to run his tip up and down her folds.

She looked over her shoulder to him and pouted as he continued to tease her. “Cal.” she whined.

“I need to get hard.”

Before she could make a remark, he roughly pushed himself inside her. “Shit!”

“That’s what I thought, pretty girl.”

Calum used both hands to grip her hips. He leaned down, pulling Claudia’s back to his chest as he kissed her shoulder. He slowly started thrusting his hips, letting her get used to him. She kept her eyes shut as he fucked her.

“Fuck.” Calum moaned out.

His lips kissed all over her neck as he continued to fuck Claudia. She rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts.

“Fucking missed you, Claudia.” He whispered in her ear. Calum shifted his hips as he thrusted into her. The new angle hitting her in the spot that made her a moaning mess.

“Please, fuck—.” Claudia moaned out, not being able to finish what she was saying.

She pushed back rougher to meet his thrusts. He gripped her hips with one hand while the other went down to her clit. Calum worked his fingers roughly as he pushed his hips into Claudia.

He buried his face in her neck, kissing her sweet spot. Her quiet praises filled the room, egging him on. She quietly whimpered his name, lazily meeting his thrusts before her orgasm took over. Calum followed soon after. With a few thrusts, he pushed himself deep inside Claudia, spilling every last drop in her.

Calum pulled out of her and plopped next to her. Claudia reached over for the GoPro and turned it off. She curled up to his side, closing her eyes. She felt a soft fabric over her back as Calum undid her bra. She frowned that she only felt the fabric on her back. She opened her eyes and giggled.

"You wore the flannel the whole time?" She asked him.

"You said you wanted me to wear it." He argued.

"Yeah when I sucked your dick, not the entirety of our sex tape."

"I didn't hear you complain. In fact you were telling how good I was."

"I doubt it."

"I can prove it to you. We literally have it on tape, Claudia."

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honestlyfrance · 3 years

Text

SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more!

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

masterlist | ko-fi | patreon

#onlysambucky #sambucky #fysbfriday #fysambuckyweek #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #france: fic rec #fic rec #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Tower

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | two

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rated: Mature

Warnings: descriptive violence, blood/injury mentioning, danger, mature language

Notes: Hi y'all, welcome. This fic is going to be set during Season 2 of The Mandalorian, and will be what I like to call ‘canon adjacent’. ALSo, this chapter is very much so Reader focused, setting up the scene and the general pacing of the story, but naturally, Din will be more and more featured as things progress. I’m a sucker for backstory and a slow burn, so ye be warned. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) I’d love to hear from you lovely little beans. Be safe out there, friends.

Lothal was a planet all too familiar with occupation.

You remember seeing a quote somewhere that read ‘Look no further than Lothal if you want to see what happens when the Empire takes control of an entire world’; and although the Imperial chokehold had loosened when the Empire fell, the planet, even all these years later, still found itself gasping for breath.

Off world migration from the Core Worlds had been popularized since the expansion of the Imperial government bureaucracy, which brought booming business opportunities for the fortunate few, but as the rich became richer, the poor grew poorer. The Lothalites were forced out of their homes, off their own lands—refugees on their own planet; forced to resettle and relocate with nothing but the clothes on their back and the possessions they could cram into their pockets. The only heirlooms passed on from generation to generation were that of poverty, tall tales of former splendor, and the greatest of ancestral traumas: disillusionment.

The truly desperate turned to crime, and what couldn’t be solved by back-dealings and blaster fire was managed with fear mongering and the bitter flair of xenophobia. There was always a species to blame, and it was always the one who seemed to be doing better off, no matter how slight the margin.

Greed. Fear. Despair. These are the currencies in which the galaxy trades.

And so it was then, and continued to be, cycle after cycle. History, always finding clever ways to repeat itself.

On bad days, pollution still loomed heavy over the atmosphere—remnants of the fires from the Imperial occupation still clinging on to Lothal’s weary bones. She had been stripped during that time; gutted and strung up by her feet to dangle from the Empire’s meat hook, exsanguinated slowly, drop by drop, until she had nothing left to give. Her resources and minerals and ore and water and seed, robbed. Pillaged.

She’s free from it now, but the scars remain— the planet remembers. Her people do not forget. Like muscle memory, they all ungulate to this synthesized rhythm they can’t seem to shake, day in and day out, wandering. Forever unsettled.

The planet had always had a diverse population and had become something of a safe haven for other abandoned people fleeing their home worlds, determined to find somewhere - anywhere - for them to survive. Lothal provided that for them. It wasn’t rich or bountiful by any stretch, but it was simple and safe—safe in the way hidden things in plain sight are. One could blend into the crowd of many, unique faces, of all races and backgrounds; you could be anonymous, if you wanted. You could be free.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here in Jortho. You had been with the Refugee Relief Movement for the better part of what felt like forever, and they had transferred you to this planet not six weeks ago. You were out on rotation; the RRM sends someone new twice a cycle for the span of a month or two to varying locations to supply rations, aid with the influx of refugees, organize resettlement lodgings, and generally be of assistance when and where you could. However, your tenure on this temperate planet was coming to a close, and soon you’d be flying back to the headquarters on Coruscant before being bounced to another post somewhere out among the stars.

You love your job. You know it’s unpopular to say, but you do. It’s fulfilling and impactful and indescribably special. The individuals you meet, the stories you hear, they’re invaluable— priceless and precious, like handmade trinkets crafted by the fingers of a child; you press them all to your heart, holding them there. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you— the weight of it; the plights of all of these people, all of these lives, burdening your conscience. It isn’t always painless— you aren’t immune to it. Even so, on most nights you manage to sleep easy, tucked away aboard the transport freighter you flew in on with the batch of settlers newly assimilated into town knowing Maker, at least you were doing something— anything— everything you could.

And really, to call Jortho a town would be an insult to all towns everywhere—but ‘town’ has a certain charm to it that ‘refugee camp’ simply did not, and it gave the people hope. Pride, even. That they belonged somewhere.

You suppose that’s all anyone wants. To belong.

A feather soft gust of wind tickles the golden blades of prairie grass as the sun, bleary and tired, starts dipping from the sky. The crickbeets begin their song early, trilling, sensing Lothal’s moons still coyly tucked away, hiding somewhere along the horizon. A smile adorns your face, private and serene, as you bring a bowl of broth up to your lips, humming when the warm liquid meets your tongue. You sigh, contented, taking in the sights before you; how the dusk blurs the aromatic air, making it opaque, the shuttles docked across the way from you casting long purple shadows onto the flat plains, the snowcapped mountains in the distance bordering the cant of the planet’s surface, nestling Jortho in a shallow valley.

You feel calm, at peace, and take another sip.

An easy moment passes, and it’s the last one you get before silence stalks up from behind you.

You don’t notice it at first, like any patient predator, it goes undetected: the white noise, the nothingness— until finally, you do and then suddenly it’s everywhere. On top of you. Smothering you. Goosebumps stipple your skin and you bristle. The insects have stopped chirping. The breeze has stilled. The air hangs dead.

And then—

Chaos.

You’re hit with a blast of crushing heat, the sheer power of it picking you up off your feet and onto your side, sending your body careening into a nearby structure. Your shoulder takes most of the blow, but your neck still snaps backwards unnaturally, the back of your head colliding with the stone wall behind you with a dull thwack. You let out a groaned cry at the impact, the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crumple to the ground.

For an instant, your vision goes white, stars popping and fusing out in front of your pupils, and it’s like you can feel everything and nothing all at once, hollow but overwhelmed, and all you want to do is close your eyes and drift asleep— Maker that would feel like a luxury, just right here on the damn dirt. And you almost do, you almost let yourself slip under and sink— until you hear a piercing scream from somewhere close.

Immediately your eyes shoot open, desperately blinking away the blurriness that threatens to over take them, and you try pushing yourself up by the heels of your scraped hands, failing once - twice - before finding your footing. You’re shaky at first, uncoordinated and dizzy and redownloading bipedalism, before that sweet drug of adrenaline starts to course through your veins and finally, finally, you take in your surroundings.

The ships that once stood across the field are gone, obliterated, and in their place only metal ribcages remain—empty carcasses like dead birds splayed on their backsides, imploded from the inside out, their bits strewn all around you.

Your breathing comes hard and heavy, fighting down panic, and cloudy eyes search through the thick black smoke billowing up in stacks, trying to pin point the source of the scream you’d heard just moments ago. You cough a strained wheeze, sputtering against the charred air, and wade your way through the debris— it’s only then that you realize the magnitude of the explosion. It’s not just the landing bay, it’s half the kriffing village. The buildings that neighbored the airfield had been decimated, burning roofs and crumbling fixtures, homes collapsing onto themselves, scorch marks and shrapnel branding the outsides of the shanties left standing.

It looks like a battlefield. You’ve seen holovids of this—what war can look like, how it can ruin a people… But you’ve never had to stand in the middle of it, head on.

Your heart drums against your chest as you break into a hobbled run, desperately scanning the area for any signs of life, up and down, left and right, straining against the waning daylight. It’s then that you hear your name, urgent and frantic, and you whip your head in it’s direction, knees nearly buckling in relief. You immediately recognize your friend Hareem, brandishing her arms at you, waving you over to her.

“Thank the Maker, you’re alright!” the Balosar cries out, trembling hands finding purchase on your shoulders, bracing you. You don’t know if its for your benefit or her own, but either way you’re grateful for the grounding pressure; for the first time since the initial blast, you feel solid, like you won’t just float away, atomized and weightless. Worried, you look her over. A sliver of fresh scarlet blooms from her scalp, a small line trickling down past her temple, but she otherwise looks relatively unharmed. You grasp onto her wrist, squeezing firmly.

“What the hell happened?” You ask, voice low and pitched, wide fearful eyes drilling into her.

“T-There was a man-” And she shakes her head, mouth clamping shut, deep wrinkles framing her face.

“Hareem,” you reassure, giving her another squeeze. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.

She tries again with a steadying inhale, “I-I saw him. A-a man. He had a device with him, and he set charges, and Maker I don’t know— I don’t know— it went off a-and he ran towards the center of town!” The Balosar is in hysterics, tears spilling down her dirty cheeks, and it takes your brain a moment to catch up, to wrap your mind around the words she’s stuttering out.

A man.

Device.

Charges.

A bomb. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack—and he’s still kriffing here. You cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing against the pale skin, smearing away the blood that’s nearly dripped to her chin. Your friend’s gaze is flighty, everywhere and nowhere, and you try giving her a smile, but you’re not quite sure you manage it.

“Hareem? Hareem. Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re alright…” You peel your eyes off her to glance around hurriedly. “We need to find cover.”

///

You’re holed up in one of the few remaining homes on this side of the encampment, crowded into the small space with three other survivors. All four of you, packed in and silent and petrified. Unsure of any further threat, you stay completely still. Helpless. Laying here, idle, for whatever awaits you behind that feeble, wooden door. You feel like prey for the wicked, just passing the time.

Minutes inch along like this—or maybe its hours; time moves eerily different when you’re attempting to become invisible—and eventually, you almost begin to relax.

Almost.

But a new sound breaks the din, hard to recognize at first, indistinct from all the commotion outside their hut, but you hear it. You all do. The youngest of you, a teenaged Devaronian, grips onto the hem of your shirt, knuckles creasing with anticipation. You tense, spine going rigid. Footsteps. They’re slow, guarded, but they’re getting closer. You bring an arm up, for all the good it’ll do, creating a human shield in front of the boy at your side. Closer. Someone behind you muffles a whimper. Closer. A Bardottan you hadn’t even met until today let’s out the faint whisper of a prayer, lips barely ghosting over the phrases. Closer-

and then, nothing.

They’re here. You can sense him, see his shadow sweep across the gaps in the entryway. You all hold your breath, as if the air is being syphoned out of the space… And the door is flung open, nearly breaking off it’s hinges as it slams into the inside of the house, shuttering the rickety walls with a jarring bang.

You don’t know who looks more astonished: you four, or the Mandalorian before you, dripping head to toe in silver plated armor, pointing a blaster directly at your head.

“Where is he?” He asks, hard edged and modulated, and it’s more of a demand than a question—but he lowers his weapon all the same, holstering it at his side. You gape at him, guppying wordlessly. “Volcur X’elo. The bomber. Where?” He hasn’t moved an inch out of the doorframe but he’s still managing to loom over you, completely filling up the archway, shoulders set and impossibly intimidating.

You gulp, finally finding your voice. “In town, i-in the center of town…” Kriff, you had not idea if that intel was good or not, but it’s all you think to say. Seeming satisfied with your answer he turns on his booted heel, cape whipping behind him, leaving just as soon as he arrived. The dust barely has time to settle as the door teeter’s on its hinge, its rusty squeaks filling the void in the Mandalorian’s wake.

“Fuck,” you hiss, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, doubling forward, propping your palms up on your knees.

///

After deliberating it with your group, you all come to the agreement of braving it outside. Better to be out under the open sky than die under a concaving apartment, clambering over each other to get to the exit. After all this, at least your dignity was still partially in tact— normally, you reckon you’d chuckle dryly at that. But you don’t.

Can’t.

You lead the pack through the mazelike streets. The sights that once seemed so familiar after weeks of living here become like strangers to you, and you sleepwalk through Jortho, snaking down paths marred by rubble and fallen wreckage— you haven’t seen any bodies, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe you’re just too scared to notice them. Maybe they’re there, hovering just outside of your peripherals, haunting the corners of your vision…

You keep your head fixed forward, jaw clenched.

Your feet move on their own like this, only vaguely aware that the red-skinned boy still hadn’t let go of your tunic. You forge on. Have to. You have to. Your only purpose on this kriffing planet was to help these people, to bring them aid, and if that means simply planting one foot in front of the other, then so be it. You take side alleys, double backing here and there, ducking under canopies, looping around yourself, only stopping when you catch a glimpse of beskar, the orange setting sun glinting off the surface of his helmet.

And he’s not alone.

You freeze suddenly, as do the rest, and the Devaronian bumps into you, stumbling under his lanky legs. Some paces in front of you, the bounty hunter has the other man, this Volcur X’elo, by a punishing grip on his shoulders, shoving him forcefully out in front of him; his wrists are bound and he’s fitful without the stabilization of his arms, his feet staccatoed and flailing wildly beneath him as the Mandalorian marches him forward.

The wind shifts, and on it you can hear the bomber rant madly, only catching snippets of the vile nonsense that spews from him.“- like swine, they are a plague to the system! And they must be purged from this planet, and the next, and the next— every last filthy one!” You spare a glance to Hareem, to find her watching the scene in hypnotized horror, but your eyes snap back at the sound of something maniacal, drawing your attention. It’s laughter. The zealot begins to laugh a twisted, mocking cry that makes you want to vomit. “You might have me in binders Mandalorian, but you’re too late. You’re too late. This isn’t over!” He’s practically giggling, gleeful and demented. Disturbed. “You’ve only found one.”

Your blood runs cold.

Only one? Oneoneoneone, one what-

The realization hits you with a punch to your gut. He’s only detonated one of his bombs. Somewhere, nearby, there must be another.

Without another word, the Mandalorian whips the smaller man around, pulling him sharply by his collar to collide with his breastplate, completely dwarfing him with his beskar frame. “Where is it, X’elo?” Nothing. Only laughter. High pitched, terrible roars. He tries again, patience ebbing. “The bomb. Now.” X’elo’s head tilts back and he howls another crowing shriek, keeping private his own sick joke, as if clutching a secret to his chest with slimy hands.

The bounty hunter had heard enough. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more out of him, and with a quick strike, he rears his blaster and pistol whips the terrorist with it. The body drops. Volcur X’elo crumples, unconscious, blood streaming from where he was struck. You hear the Bardottan behind you stifle a cry with her fist.

And with that, Lothal’s sun disappears completely, stealing away the last of it’s light as it furls into itself, shrinking out of sight. The dark ushers a new wave of dread, creeping over Jortho like a miasma, poisoning the very air.

The Mandalorian wheels around, searching for his heading in the labyrinth of the town. Others have gathered now, poking their heads around corners, stealing glimpses through windows. He turns, his head on a swivel. “Where is your power generator?” he demands, addressing the small crowd, but you’re all too stunned to speak. “Anybody. Generator. Now.” There’s something new in his voice, something muddled, and it takes you a moment to interpret it. It’s desperation, you realize, tinny and deep through his vocoder, and with a surge of adrenaline you move forward, furthering yourself from your group. You swallow. “I-Its this way.” Upon hearing your voice, he spins around, his visor latching on to you, and with a nod you both set out.

“Watch him,” the Mandalorian growls past his shoulder, stepping over the bounty’s limp body.

///

You’re still not really sure how he knew where it’d be, you wonder to yourself, gravel crunching under foot as you both trudge on, an eery quiet settling over them. You’d say it was a lucky hunch, but judging by the way the Mandalorian carries himself, you doubt luck had much to do with it.

You had led him to the power generator hub on the other side of the sad excuse for a city, traveling in tense silence, and when you came upon that tall, bulky machine he sprang into action, circling it until he found what he was looking for. The bomb. You stood back, rooted there, and after some grunting and rewiring— or maybe he just hacked at it with a vibroblade, you had no idea; his wide frame engulfed his work and you couldn’t tell what he was up to, all you knew was that his methods proved successful— the man managed to disarm the second device. You had thought you noticed his shoulders release, slumping with relief, after the red flashing lights on the rudimentary interface flickered and then went dark.

And so here you are. The two of you, bathed in the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons, their bellies hanging full in the blue-black night, illuminating the trail of blood staining the dirt beneath your boots as the Mandalorian roughly drags the body by his ankle behind him— through the exploded rubble, through the fragmented lives of the people around you, already displaced and estranged. They’ll all have to move, you think, pack up their lives, or what little is left of them, and relocate. Again. The thought sinks in you like a stone, sobering you.

Even with the weight of a fully grown man to lug, the bounty hunter is still a few long strides in front of you and your eyes are trained on the unconscious form, taking in the way his mouth lolls open like an animal, his hair matted with thick blood, eyes rolled back into his head. You’re talking out loud before you even realize it.

“How sick do you have to be,” you mumble, transfixed. Your voice, it’s not angry; no, shock has effectively robbed you of that— it’s not anger, but bewilderment. Quivering, broken bewilderment.

“H-How hoodwinked and warped you’d have to be, how disturbed... For you to think like that. To do all... all this...”

“Hey,” his gruff voice shakes you from your trance, and you blink up at him, tearing your eyes off the body. “Focus,” he urges, and you can only nod dumbly back at him, suddenly feeling a ripple of nausea slither through you.

The ramp to his ship is lowering as they come upon it and you plant yourself at the base, feet seeming to stop on their own accord, and frankly you’re not really sure why you’ve even followed him this far in the first place— always a step behind him as he hauled his bounty all the way through the vestiges of Jortho, across the arid prairie to where he first touched down. Maybe it’s because you feel untethered, unmoored, and all of his steeled surety is like a lighthouse, a beacon, guiding you away from the rocks.

He heaves X’elo up the ramp and you’re left standing there, staring unseeingly into the durasteel, becoming more and more aware of the ringing in your ears. The longer time passes, the more it’s as if you’re underwater, the background blurring into the foreground, sound gargled and far away. A high pitched buzz pinches your ear drums, and it takes you a moment to realize the Mandalorian is calling out to you, trying to get your attention.

“— Dala.”

Does he sound annoyed? Kriff, you think he might... If you had your wits about you, you might be able to recognize it. But as it stands, you don’t. You’re not here, not all of you. You’re splintered. Suspended.

“Hmm? Sorry, what..?” Your mouth is as dry as Jakku— parched desert tongue darting across your cracked lip, tasting soot and ash and something metallic. Brow furrowed, you touch a shaky finger to the flesh and when you pull it back, crimson red dots your skin.

Oh, you think, numb. Huh.

Your eyes skitter back up to the Mandalorian, towering over you, nearly at the apex of the incline, and his stance is broad and his fists are clenched. You’re almost positive he’s glaring down at you through his visor, and you don’t even know the man, can’t even see his damn face, but you can tell he’s peeved— Maker, just how long had you been ignoring him?

A scratched noise comes through his helmet’s vocoder and his next words are clipped, punctuated. “I said, do you have a way off this skug hole?”

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calif0rnia-lovers · 3 years

Text

Lover of Mine #5.5 | Angel Reyes.

Series Masterlist | join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

title: For Better, or For Worse.

rating: 💙 💔

As long as you're feeling the same, I'll follow you into the flames

sum: angel fears once it's out, his secret will be the final push you need to leave. instead of confessing, he sticks out the couple's retreat to give himself a few more days with you. he makes himself a promise: he'll tell you once you two return to santo padre. but a ghost from his past pushes angel's agenda forward a few days.

words: the standard for this series....long af (that's why I break it into sections so you know where to come back to when you take a break...but seriously, please take breaks on these long ass chapters)

Ez Reyes is a smart man. There is no denying it. However, Ez never thought he would struggle to tie a tie.

He is currently outside of his father’s truck. Kneeling before his nephew, Ez concentrates as he works through the instructions he Youtube’d earlier. A usually chatty Jeyson has been silent. He slept the entire hour's drive to school. When his Uncle woke him, Jeyson shot Ez a glare that reminded him of you.

Jeyson was fine the entire weekend that you were gone, but the moment he woke up this Monday to find you had not returned his entire mood changed. He has fought Ez tooth and nail the entire morning.

Ez glances up from the tie to Jeyson. “Hey, you sure you wanna go to school today?”

“I have to go to school” Jeyson mumbles.

“Yeah, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to take a break.” Ez offers Jeyson a smile. “If you’re not having a good day, it’s okay to stay home.”

“I don’t want to stay home with you.”

“That’s okay,” Ez chuckles. “What about Izzy?”

“I don’t want to stay home with her either.” Jeyson releases a huff before glancing down at his now fixed tie. He bends down to pick up his backpack. Slipping it onto his shoulder, Jeyson steps around his Uncle. “I want my mom to come home.”

Tommy’s gaze remains on the sleeve of his blue Stockton uniform. His fingers tug at the loose string resting against his wrist. He ignores the smirk on his older brother’s face. The passing of time has muddled the bruises on Tommy’s skin. The mixture of black and yellow stood out on the parts of him he's allowed to remain visible. No matter how he sits, the pain in his ribs is inescapable. Sleep has fallen to the way-side, the inability to get comfortable meaning he only gets it once he’s passed out from exhaustion.

“You didn’t tell me she was hot. Now I know why you were sticking up for her the other day--”

“I didn’t notice. I’m more worried about her getting me out of here.”

“Uh-huh.” Leo’s eyes roll as he watches his brother’s eyes pass over the crowded visiting center. “I’m just saying—”

“What’d you find?” Tommy’s fingers massage his temple, the irritation in his voice amplified by his brother’s antics. Lack of sleep and around-the-clock oversight and antics from Rogers has cut his fuse short. “If you didn’t find anything, you could've saved yourself a trip up here—and I could be asleep.”

“She’s not married—unless she has a habit of leaving her rings at home.”

“What? On the table?”

Leo shakes his head. “No. A jewelry box in the bedroom.”

“What about the kid?” “He has to be about eight, or nine? Name’s Jeyson. You were right, he’s definitely Angel’s. Wish I could show you the picture. He couldn’t deny that kid if he tried.”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods impatiently, motioning for him to continue. “What else?”

“Kid goes to some boujee ass prep school up north. Gilman something? Embroidered blazers, ties, the whole nine. His mom’s paying a pretty penny too, apparently, it's the best in the state. He’s into the typical shit kids are into. Star Wars, Spider-Man. Plays the piano, apparently, he’s actually really fucking good. Awards and all. His mom’s got him pretty busy. A lot of after-school activities. Looks like she and Angel rotate transportation...She must not be around right now tho.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Apart from the fact you’re still not transported to a new unit?” Leo scoffs. “The kid was with someone else when I was scouting. A girl and a kid with a prospect patch.”

“Mayans?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe his little brother...last I heard he was hemmed up here. Haven’t seen him around tho.”

“Maybe he got out?”

Tommy dismisses Leo’s suggestion. “Most cop killers don’t walk free. What else?”

“He’s not doing a good job of keeping his nephew safe. I talked to the kid.”

Tommy’s eyes open. “You did what?”

“He walked right off with me.” Leo quietly explains. He mistakes his brother’s silence as a cue to move forward with his story. “His uncle was so into his date he didn’t even notice the kid walk off with me--”

The sight of Tommy’s hand running down his face tapers the rest of Leo’s statement.

His voice comes out low, through his clenched teeth. “I didn’t tell you to touch the kid.”

“I didn’t touch the kid,” Leo’s eyes rolled. “I got him a funnel cake—” “I don’t give a fuck—” the slamming of Tommy’s fist against the table brings the room to a brief silence. The eyes that he has attracted linger on Tommy as his glare nearly burns a hole through his brother. Rogers shrugs off the wall nearby. He takes a step of warning in Tommy’s direction. “—what you did, Leo—it was stupid.”

“How else was I supposed to get him to talk to me?”

Tommy’s response comes out slowly. Each passing word increases his irritation.

“You didn’t need him to talk to you because I didn’t ask you to talk to him. Buying him a funnel cake, or whatever the fuck your grand plan was allowed the kid to see your face. He can open up his mouth and ID you—”

“ID me,” Leo snorts, dismissing Tommy’s claim. “Relax, Tommy. He’s not a state witness, he’s a kid—“

“Yeah, and according to you and his 'boujee ass prep school,' he’s a smart ass fucking kid, Leo.” Tommy lets out a long sigh. “The last thing I need is the kid opening his mouth to his mom about some random guy approaching him.”

“Don’t worry, I played it cool. Told him I was a friend of his dad. Maybe, if you had told me exactly why I went there I wouldn’t—”

It was something Tommy had explained to his brother during their last visit. The less you know, the better.

“I already told you,” Tommy rubs at his temple, the sudden throbbing causing his jaw to clench. “I needed to double-check something.”

“And that’s what I did.” Leo sighs. “What I want to know is, why the fuck you called me all the way down here to check pictures in some house.”

Tommy studies his brother for a moment. He shifts forward, his elbows settling against the table.

“You wanna know why I didn’t tell you? You don’t think, Leo. I ask you to do one thing—one fucking thing—and you almost fuck it up. If I wanted you to think I wouldn’t have told you exactly what to do.” Leo’s jaw tightens as his brother continues. “You trying to think leads to you doing dumb shit like kidnapping her fucking son—”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” Leo mumbles.

Tommy’s fingers massage his clenched fist. “You’re lucky I can’t reach across this fucking table right now.”

Leo’s gaze drops from his brothers. The look that lies in Tommy’s eyes is one he’s seen before—at least not directed at him. It’s the look that accompanied the acts that earned Tommy his nickname. Leo’s gaze nervously shifts towards Rogers who is still watching Tommy from his post.

“What do you want with her? Thinking she’s gonna give you a shot? Criminal is her type, and she’s definitely yours.”

“It’s not her I need. It’s Angel.” Tommy starts, his jaw tightening as his gaze remains on Leo. “And if you want Angel, you need her.”

“If she’s as good as you say, what do you need Angel for? You’ve been talking about her like she might actually get you off.”

Leo steals a brave glance at his brother. He watches as Tommy looks up from his tattooed knuckles.

“No matter how hard you pray, people like me and you don't come out on the right side of the law. No matter how fucking good she is, she can't get me out of this. This shit is stacked too high against me." Tommy’s gaze shifts to the clock overhead. “Did you find the necklace?”

Leo nods as Tommy stands.

“Good, go ahead and do what I asked.” Tommy pauses, his voice lowering as his gaze meets his brothers. “Nothing else, Leonardo. The time I'm looking at right now, I’ll fucking kill you right here if you pull some shit like that again.”

At some point Monday night, Angel abandoned his spot on the sofa to crawl into bed with you. His intention may have been to take one side of the bed, but to no surprise, he has failed.

You came to this revelation at two o’clock in the morning when you tried to roll over but found it to be impossible. You have been stuck on your back ever since. You attempted to fall back asleep but have not been able to.

Cheek pressed against your chest, arm wrapped around your waist, Angel hasn’t moved. He doesn’t move when your alarm goes off at 7:30 or when the knock comes on the door at 8:00.

The sleep Angel lost, the past two days over Tommy seems to have piled onto him. He only wakes when your fingers brush through his hair, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cheek.

“You have to get up and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Angel mumbles. The sunlight peeking through the curtains prompts him to burrow his face against your neck. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you smile softly. “But, I’m hungry, and I can’t get our food with you laying on top of me.”

Your words are met with a huff before Angel rolls over. Resting on his back, he watches the fan spin as you get out of bed.

His first instinct is to check his phone. He pushes himself up, his body protesting with the sudden movement, once he realizes his cellphone is not where he left it.

“Where’s my phone?”

His palms pressed against his eyes as he pushes away the enticing thought of laying back down for a few more hours of sleep.

“It kept going off,” you look up from the plate in your hand. “Ezekiel kept texting you.”

“What did he want?”

Angel watches you shrug. “I don’t know. I put it in the drawer. I tried to wake you up, but you were literally dead.”

Angel releases a sigh of relief before reaching over to open the bedside drawer. Facedown, his phone has several notifications. He ignores the rest, focusing on those from his younger brother.

2:30 a.m. 📲 : You still up?

2:35 a.m. 📲 : Talked to Bishop. Found out what the shipment was

3:00 a.m. 📲 : Pretty sure I found something else

3:02 a.m. 📲 : Don’t know if this is the guy. If it is we might have a problem

3:03 a.m. 📲: Found this in the paper

3:04 a.m. 📲 : Check it out and call me back.

The last incoming message was a photo, the front page of the Daily Imperial Gazette. Angel scans the article as you climb back into bed. A few phrases stick as he reads, “Man charged in Santo Padre murder…” “Thomas Flores, 30, has been charged…” “...obtained representation from Lorente & Rothman…” “...Friday, Flores was denied bond…”

“I have to tell you something.”

Angel instinctively hits the power button on his phone. Glancing up, he realizes you haven’t even bothered to look up at him. Your focus is on the half-eaten croissant in your hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you explain as you take another bite of your croissant. “The case Samuel gave me—the one Aiden is helping me with—it’s for this guy. His name’s Tommy Flores. He has some pretty...intense charges, so you’re probably going to hear people talking about it soon. We had court Friday, and the judge...he’s pretty tough. He denied any form of a bond, he didn’t even bother trying to set a ridiculously high one.”

You glance up to find Angel’s eyes on you. His unreadable expression causes your brow to furrow. You mistake the look in his eyes as uncertainty.

“I honestly don’t think it’s anything you have to worry about.” Offering him a smile, you lightly roll your eyes. “But I’m going to have to start working late when we get back, so I need to know that what happened Friday won’t happen again.”

You wait for Angel’s response, but it doesn’t come.

“If I take over morning drop-offs, can I count on you to pick Jeyson up after school?” You continue. “Or, do I have to ask Isabela to do it...Angel?”

Angel blinks as your fingers snap.

“Are you listening to me?” The irritation he finds as his focus shifts to you causes him to nod.

Angel nods a second time as he takes in the look of skepticism on your face.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“So, you’re good with picking Jeyson up from school?” You clarify. “Every day of the week?”

Angel unlocks his phone, nodding for the third time. “Yeah. I’ll pick him up.”

“And if you can’t,” you reach forward. You catch Angel's chin forcing him to look at you. “You call and let me know the moment you find out?”

Nodding, Angel drops his eyes the second your gaze meets his. “I gotta call Ez.”

Despite his admission, your hand doesn’t drop preventing him from getting up. For a moment, Angel thinks you’ll let it go. For once, you will ignore the feeling you get each time you notice a change in him. It is something no one else in his life can seem to do. It is something you’ve been able to do your entire life. It is something Angel wishes you couldn’t do.

“What’s wrong?”

Angel shakes his head as you release him. He keeps his eyes trained on the plate in your lap avoiding your gaze as your touch brushes through his hair. It's a habit. Angel knows the moment he meets your gaze he’ll tell you whatever is on his mind. It’s impossible not to do when he knows you can read him best that way. He picks up what’s left of your croissant and takes a bite.

You sit your plate aside before closing the distance between the two of you. Angel’s eyes lift to meet yours as you settle on his lap. The warmth of your palms finds his cheeks as you take his face in your hands.

“I’ve known you nearly my entire life, Angel. I know you don’t believe it, but I can tell when you’re lying to me. Just like I can tell when you’re upset and anxious. And when you’re going to annoy me.” The soft smile on your lips brings a weak one to his. “There’s no point in trying to act like I don’t. What’s wrong?”

“You were right about Friday night. I wasn’t with Samuel. I wasn’t even in Santo Padre.” Angel lets out a deep breath. His voice low as your fingers toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Ez and I were in Mexico. I left when you were in court. I knew we weren’t going to make it back in time, but I didn’t want to have to tell you because I knew you’d be pissed.”

“What happened to your hand?”

He watches you lift it. Your finger traces the bandage.

“Cut it on a shovel.”

Your gaze lifts to find his focus on the path your finger traces.

“...okay.”

Angel shook his head. “It’s not okay—I fucked up. Forreal this time—“

"What? On Friday?” You let out a deep breath. “Angel, I know I freaked out. Missing the recital—yeah, it was fucked up—but it is not the worse thing you’ve done.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that.” Your eyes watch him release a tired laugh, his gaze down. "You defend me, even when you shouldn’t.”

It is true. Defending Angel has been second nature your entire life. Often you do it in response to others. But also in response to him. When you were teenagers, you learned a valuable lesson about him. Angel is his worst critic. He’ll talk himself down harsher than anyone, even those who hate him.

“It’s because I love you.” Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him into a hug. “Just because we fight and say stupid things to each other doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, Angel. If I haven’t been able to stop doing that our entire time together, I don’t know why you think a fight in a therapy session is going to be the final straw. Me not talking to you is just the easiest way for me not to say something I’ll regret later.”

Angel’s grip tightens around you as your lips press against his skin.

“At this point, there isn’t anything you can do or say that’s going to make me stop loving you.” The reassurance in your voice lifts his gaze to yours. “Okay?”

Your lips press against his in a soft kiss. You leave a second against his forehead before getting up.

“I have to take a shower,” you announce as Angel’s arm wraps around your waist guiding your body back towards his. Your fingers drift into his hair as his head rests against you. “There’s more food you should eat before we go out.”

The two of you stay that way for nearly a minute. Angel releases you as the sound of your ringing phone fills the air.

Silence from Angel Reyes is a bad sign. Such a rarity, it wrings your stomach into knots. It has been hours since you woke to find him sleeping against you. Angel has said just as little as he did in the morning. When you stepped out of the shower, you found him fully dressed and brushing his teeth.

You glance over your shoulder to find he’s standing where you last left him. Arms crossed over his chest Angel rests against the wall as far from the line as possible. With his sunglasses on, you can’t tell where he’s looking. The corner of his lips turns up into a small smile as you come to a stop before him.

“Who knew smoothies took forever to make,” he sighs as your arms wrap around his waist.

Resting your cheek against Angel's chest, you tighten your grip. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heart as his lips press against your hair.

“I want you to come somewhere with me tonight.”

“No,” Angel chuckles. You tip your head back, pouting as his gaze drops to yours.

He shakes his head as your weight shifts to your toes.

“Please,” you ask, your lips pressing a kiss against his.

“Last time I did that, you ripped me to shreds,” he laughs. “I haven’t even had time to recover from that.”

“It’ll be fun,” you promise. The second kiss you leave morphs Angel's smile into a grin. You leave a third, this one against his cheek. “I promise.”

Angel releases a long breath as you take a step back, a grin on your face.

“It better be,” he shakes his head as you quickly press a final kiss against his lips before turning to retrieve your order.

As you reach the corner, your cell phone vibrates in your back pocket. You don’t bother checking who it is. Aiden has called you three times. You had sent him a text message in response to his first three calls. Telling him to ask Isabela for help on whatever he needed.

The moment the call goes to voicemail, the vibration picks back up.

You force yourself to take a breath as Angel leads you outside.

“Hi, Aiden--”

“I know this week is supposed to be for you and Angel,” Aiden's voice comes out in a rushed whisper. “But, I need your help.”

“Where are you?” You ask as you take a sip of your smoothie. “And, why are you whispering?”

“I’m at the courthouse,” Aiden sighs. “I’ve been here all morning, and they’re giving me the run-around.”

“About what?”

“The Warden called the office this morning. You weren’t there, so I answered your desk phone. He didn’t give me many details, just that Flores was detained last night. They couldn't get him to say anything—to no surprise—but one of the guards said he was involved in an altercation with another inmate. Apparently, Tommy messed him up pretty bad—like...transported to the local hospital bad.”

Angel glances over at you as you slip out of his grip. You take a seat at the table he stops alongside.

In the short time, you’ve worked with Aiden, you’ve learned one thing. The moment he thinks there is something to panic about, Aiden will panic. So, if you sound stressed it kicks off his panicking.

Resting your face in your hand, you speak quietly. “So, he wasn't transferred on Friday as I'd requested? If he was he couldn't have gotten in a fight.”

“I know. Apparently this isn't the first one he's been in. The Warden said he looks like he’s been roughed up in the past few days. I’ve been here since first thing this morning—”

“Let me guess.” You rest back against your seat. “They told you there’s nothing they can do, with the prison being at full capacity they don’t have a cell for him?”

A brief silence falls over the receiver. Aiden’s brow furrows.

“Yeah—how'd you know?”

“That’s because it’s bullshit,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Judge Miller was hoping you’d leave and not press the issue.”

“Shit,” Aiden mumbles. “Shit, should I call Samuel—”

“God no. Aiden, I’ll tell you what to do, and say, just relax.”

“I lied to you.”

Angel glances down at you as your lips press against his knuckles. “About what?”

“About wanting to wait to get married.”

Your admission leaves Angel quiet. He opens his mouth to speak, but it closes as you place a second kiss against his skin.

You tilt your head back to find his eyes focused on the water.

“I was talking to Izzy the other day—not about getting married—but about you and...I mean...we’re trying to have another kid.” You backtrack as his gaze drifts to you. “That’s not the only reason, but I don’t want to spend another seven years playing house with you, Angel. I have tried so hard to find reasons why we should just leave each other in the past, but it’s impossible. I can’t help thinking that we’ve wasted so much time trying to fight it we should just get married.”

If he is excited by your words, Angel doesn’t show it. If he’s anxious by your words Angel doesn’t show it. The only response he gives is the furrowing of his brow as his pace slows before coming to a complete stop.

“I thought you’d be...a little happier,” you admit. The butterflies in your stomach seem to double in size as Angel's gaze focuses on your interlaced fingers.

“Right now?” Angel gently squeezes your hand, the smile slowly spreading across his lips causing you to shake your head. “A fancy place like this I’m pretty sure we could find someone to do it tonight.”

“Preferably with your son there,” you giggle as his lips press against your forehead.

“Just so you know,” Angel mumbles as he leaves a kiss against your lips. “You can’t take it back.”

“It’d be pointless,” you admit, your eyes focused on the incoming tide. “Regardless of what I say, you’re impossible to escape.”

“Like you said, it must be fate,” he teases as you step back towards the security of the shore.

“I didn’t say fate. I said I was tired of trying to outrun you.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “Okay.”

Pushing against his chest, you cause him to stumble backward making it impossible for him to avoid the incoming tide.

“Fuck—”

Angel’s scream is drowned out by the sound of your laughter. He tries to escape the chilled water but realizes it’s pointless as a second wave rolls through.

“Is it cold?” You ask the grin on your face prompting him to take a step in your direction. “Because it looked like it was cold.” The look on his face causes your laughter to return.

“You’re about to find out how cold it is.” The promise in his voice causes you to take a step back.

You catch sight of Angel’s smile before you take off running.

Between the giggles that leave you breathless and the sand between your feet, you don’t get very far before Angel’s arms wrap around you.

“I’m sorry, okay. Let me go, please?” Angel’s grip loosens as you turn to face him. “I really am sorry.”

A gasp escapes your lips as your feet leave the ground. Blood rushes to your head as Angel tosses you over your shoulder. It only takes a second for you to realize he’s turned and is carrying you back towards the water.

“Angel Ignacio Reyes put me down now!”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby girl,” Angel chuckles as he carries you into the water.

It doesn’t matter that you’re both fully clothed Angel carries you out until the water is waist-deep. He comes to a stop. Shifting you in his arms, he grins as your arms instantly wrap around his neck.

“You think this is far enough?” He asks as you take in your surroundings.

“I hate you,” you giggle as you meet his playful gaze.

“I could go further out,” he takes a step forward.

“Just do it.”

Judging by the mischievous grin on his lips, you expect him to drop you in. For whatever reason, Angel spares you a dunking. Instead, he carefully lowers you to your feet.

The chill of the water causes your grip to tighten around him. He waits until you’re standing to let go of you.

You can’t suppress the smile that finds your lips as he kisses you.

“You’re lucky you buttered me up beforehand,” he chuckles as you step around him.

He follows you back to shore watching as you glance down the beach, back towards the lights of the hotel. Your pace slows as you start in the direction of the hotel.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Despite the nod of reassurance, you force yourself to take another breath. You shake your head slightly, a tiny smile finding your lips. It takes a third breath for the feeling to pass. “I just—got lightheaded for a second.”

“Uh-huh. Funny how you get ‘lightheaded’ the second I take my shirt off. I don’t know why you still try and play this game at this point.”

Your eyes open in time to allow you the moment you need to react. Catching the shirt tossed your way, you watch Angel unzip his jeans.

"Angel put your shirt back on–I’m serious.” The warning in your voice stretches the smile on Angel’s lips. Your eyes leave him, long enough to drift back to the glow of the hotel’s lanterns still visible. The laughter and music cause you to step in his direction. “You are not getting naked on the beach! Are you trying to get us kicked out of here—”

“I wasn’t planning on going in naked,” Angel laughs. It is an admission of truth, but the sight of your panicked gaze causes a mischievous grin to take over his features. “But, I’m down to if you are—“

“No—"

“You know what?” Angel nods as he tugs his foot out of his jeans. “Your plan is better.”

“Angel—“

There’s no point throwing in a protest. Angel has fully stripped down to his briefs.

You step forward as he moves to push them down.

“I am serious, Angel. Do not do it.”

He rolls his neck before letting out a loud, and exaggerated, “fine.”

“But the only way that’s coming back on,” he nods towards the shirt in your hands before taking a step back. “You gotta join me.”

“I’m not doing this.”

Angel shoots you a look of skepticism as he takes another step towards the water.

“You’re already wet,” he chuckles. “Might as well get in.”

You remain where you are as Angel turns and makes his way into the water.

He waits until he’s waist-deep to start swimming out. He disappears out of sight as you drop his shirt to the ground. Stepping out of your flip-flops, you roll your eyes as you watch him resurface under the moonlight.

“Hurry up!” Even with the distance between the two of you, you can see Angel’s grin in your mind perfectly.

Despite your initial protest, you stay in the water for nearly an hour. Angel stands alongside you. His right-hand rests against your spine, his left interlaced with yours as your float. He watches you, his eyes admiring the moonlight against your skin as you focus on the stars above.

“I can’t remember the last time I looked at these,” you admit.

He smiles as your eyes drift shut. “Mom used to freak every time she caught us sneaking onto the roof to look at them.”

“That’s because you fell off one time. Nearly gave her a heart attack.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

You bite back a smile as Angel’s lips lightly brush against yours. They drift to the bridge of your nose as you release a soft giggle.

“Speaking of mom’s, yours came by last week.” Angel watches as the smile on your face slowly fades. “You were at work. I was taking Jeyson to school. She said she’s been calling you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you admit. “She’s blocked.”

“I was thinking...since we’re heading back a day early, we should stop by your mom’s on the way back–”

“No.”

Angel releases a deep breath. He wasn’t naive to think you would jump at the idea. But, since seeing her, Angel couldn’t get the thought out of his mind.

“I know ya’ll don’t get along, but my mom’s not here to see Jeyson grow up. I think he should be able to know the grandparents he has left.”

“I get that, but I’m not doing it.”

Your eyes remain closed as you concentrate on the waves gently pushing against your skin.

Angel doesn’t say anything else on the subject. He knows your response will stay the same. It has for the past nine years. He also doesn’t say anything else because he knows he’s the reason you won’t budge.

The hatred your mother has for Angel may be misplaced, but she is too stubborn to admit it. She has always blamed Angel for many of your actions, starting when you were kids. Anytime you didn’t go through with what she had planned for you, Angel was to blame. You missed curfew in high school Angel was to blame. You skipped school on your birthday Angel was to blame. You didn’t attend the college she spent her entire life preparing you for Angel was to blame. You got pregnant out of wedlock Angel was to blame.

It had all came to a head at your baby shower. Angel wasn’t there, but it was the first time he’d ever seen his mother truly angry. Sure, Marisol had gotten mad at Angel countless times. But seeing how mad Marisol was as she recounted the fight she had witnessed between you and your mother, Angel was shocked.

He never asked what words were exchanged, and he didn’t have to. All he knew was that from that moment forward, everyone avoided the subject of your mother.

“I get what you’re saying, Angel,” you sigh. “But, if my mom truly wanted to get to know Jeyson she would apologize. I can’t bring our son around someone that has said the things she’s said about you. If she can say them about you, she can say them about him because Jeyson is your son.”

“Shit, I really look as bad as I feel?”

The smile on Tommy’s face grows as you look up. The heat covering your skin seems to rise as you start to speak.

“No—” You wince. “I’m sorry for staring—it’s rude.”

“It’s all good,” Tommy chuckles as he watches your eyes leave his.

He watches as you bite your lip. Whatever is on your mind, you don’t share it. Instead, your eyes linger on the bruise beneath his right eye. You’ve seen enough damage on Angel to know how bad it must have looked a few days prior.

“Hey, relax.” Tommy shifts forward in his seat, the sound of his shackles dragging across the table causing your attention to refocus. He meets your gaze. “The Doc cleared me—gave me my two Advil and sent me back to my cell. I think it’s safe to say I’m not gonna die.”

Despite the smile on his face, your head still shakes.

“Yeah, but I still feel bad that it happened. I was supposed to double-check the clearance of your paperwork.”

“Trust me, it’s not your fault,” Tommy chuckles. He watches your eyes drop to his freshly bruised knuckles. “It’s mine. The funny thing about this place is, you always run into people from your past. My mom used to said I never knew when to stop talking. I might have said the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

You watch as Tommy’s eyes briefly drift over your shoulder to where Rogers sits in the corner. His smile returns as his gaze drifts back to you.

“So, I take it you had fun.” He notes your raised brow before backtracking. “The Warden said he called your office and your boyfriend answered, said you were out of town.”

Your eyes roll. “Hey, go easy on my boyfriend. He’s the one who went to the courthouse. From what I hear, he slammed Judge Miller hard because your paperwork has been approved.”

You take in Tommy’s skepticism. You slide the signed form across the table, allowing him a better view.

“Signed by the Warden as well,” you point out. “Thanks to Aiden as soon as we’re done here, you’re being moved out of the unit.”

“No shit?” Tommy chuckles. He nods in approval as he scans the form. “I’ll be sure to thank Aiden when I see him. Guess you were right. He’s got some balls after all...Look, I know I’m not the easiest client….so um….Thanks for pushing for this. Making sure everything was straight. Most people would’ve just left me where I was.”

“Yeah, well I can’t have you die before I get fully paid.”

The laugh Tommy releases brings a smile to your lips. He settles back against his chair as you pick up your pen.

"I need you to understand that this new assignment may not be your favorite," you explain. "You're being moved to a new unit, but I can't get you moved again. That means, you can't do anything else, Tommy. Do you understand me?"

Tommy nods. He looks up as your hand finds his.

"This," your lift his hand forcing him to take in his swollen knuckles. "The shit you pulled. You're lucky they didn't throw you in AdSeg. That's 23 hours in your cell. No phone calls, no visits. Nothing. The only reason they didn't throw you in there is because they messed up, and didn't want Aiden to draw a motion against the judge. I don't care what you have to do, but you better learn to walk away from a fight. Now."

"I know." Tommy sighs as you let him go.

“Then do it. My job is already hard enough as it is. I can't have you trying to kill someone while you're already here for murder. Plus, the judge is pissed because of the paperwork Aiden had to file. That's not good for either of us. So, that means I need your help.”

His brow raises, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. “I thought I was supposed to be the one asking for help.”

“True, but help is a two-way street.”

Tommy hesitates for a moment. His eyes drop to his knuckles as he lets off a light shrug.

“What do you need?”

“For you to tell me why you were meeting with Alexander Maddox the night you were arrested.”

Tommy’s smile fades quicker than it came. His jaw tightens as he shakes his head.

You sit forward resting your elbows on the table.

“Tommy, if it’s about the MC.” Tommy’s eyes lift for a brief second. Long enough for you to catch a glimpse of the shock in his eyes. You lower your voice. “I know you’re with the Horsemen—”

Tommy shakes his head. “Look—I get you got a job to do, but—there’s just shit with the MC I can’t talk about—”

“I know how this stuff works—”

“Got a lot of personal experience with an MC?” Tommy asks.

His question causes you to release a deep breath.

“If you don’t want to tell me anything, fine. But when it comes down to it, Tommy. People will cut you off to save themselves.” The irritation in your voice lifts his gaze. “That shipment you were carrying, was not a dime bag. Your brothers will let you go down for this. Hard. They will let you rot in here for the rest of your fucking life if it means avoiding a R.I.C.O. case.”

Tommy’s brow furrows. “What’s a R.I.C.O.?”

His question throws you off. The pure confusion on his face causes you to backtrack.

“You seriously don’t know what that is?”

“I mean—I’ve heard of it...how do you know what it is?”

“It’s what you pay me for,” you remind him.

“Then I guess I’m paying you to explain it to me.”

The moment you step outside of the elevator, you come face to face with a wide-eyed Isabela.

“Is your phone dead?” She asks the irritation in her voice causing your brow to arch.

“Off—I had a client meeting with Tommy. I thought I told you—”

Isabela ignores your response, her eyes focused in the direction of your office. “Yeah, whatever. I’ve been calling you for the last freaking hour—”

“Sorry—ow.” You wince as Isabela catches your arm. She pulls you to a stop. “What?”

She releases her grip, but she sidesteps. Blocking your path, Isabela places both hands on your shoulders. She ignores the look of confusion on your face, her gaze studying yours.

“How are you?”

Her question causes you to hesitate. “...Fine...why?”

Isabela takes another moment to study your eyes as if she doesn’t fully believe you before nodding.

“Just so you know,” she sighs as she takes a step back. “I did not let her in. Aiden did. He didn’t know any better—bless his heart—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your mother.” Isabela winces at the look on your face. “She’s in your office. Promise me you won’t make a scene.”

“It’s never me you have to worry about,” you mumble.

When you enter your office, you find your mother is not where Aiden asked her to sit and wait for you.

She is standing behind your desk studying a photo that she holds in her hands.

“Put it back.”

She jumps at the sound of your voice, her body turning so that she faces you.

“Put it back, please.”

Her eyes return to the photo of Angel seated on his bike. A grinning Jeyson is seated in front of him, clinging to the handlebars.

“He looks so much like his father.”

You cross the room. Taking the photo, you place it back in its original resting place before dropping your purse onto your desk.

“What do you want?” You ask as you watch step around your desk.

“Is that a way to greet your mother?”

“According to the last time we spoke, I don’t have one.” You recollect as you take a seat. “It’s been...nearly nine years, so my memory might be a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you told me.” Your brow furrows as she moves to take the seat across from you. “There’s no need for you to sit. This conversation won’t last long. I have a meeting in a few minutes. What do you want?”

Your mother’s jaw tightens as she remains standing. Her eyes roll as she speaks. “I take it he didn’t pass along my message.”

“He did pass along your message, actually,” you admit. “Believe it or not, Angel said I should call you and listen to what you had to say. I just chose to do what I’ve done for the past nine years—ignore it. If you’re not going to answer my question, mom, then you can leave.”

“Your father and I want to see our grandson—”

“No.”

She expects more, but your attention has already moved on to the papers you’ve dropped onto your desk.

“See, I told you the conversation wouldn’t last long.”

“Y/N,” your mother objects. “It’s been nearly nine years.”

Your fingers interlaced as you force yourself to take a deep breath. You surprise even yourself as your voice comes out quiet and calm.

“I told you before. I do not want you near my son, and I meant it. I don’t care what excuse you’ve come here to give today. I’m not changing my mind. Your only hope is to speak with his father, and hope he’s more forgiving than I am.”

Aiden stops in the doorway, his eyes widening as he reads the room. He takes a step back but pauses as you give him a warm smile.

“Hi, Aiden! Please tell me you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

“No,” Aiden clears his throat. His eyes briefly pass to your mother whose gaze remains on you. “I haven’t.”

“Good. Can you order two of whatever you’re having? I’ll pay. We have to go ahead and look over this case.”

Aiden nods as you add, “great. Can you also escort my mother downstairs? She’s ready to leave.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your retreat.”

Aiden’s apology breaks your concentration.

Seated on the floor of your office, Aiden has his back pressed against your desk. His usually polished appearance is disheveled. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His tie and jacket are discarded on the back of your chair.

His apology is one he has been working himself up to share for the last three hours. Each time he thought of sharing it, he’s backed out. At this point, he’s run out of pointless conversation and has reached the bottom of your takeout container that he took over.

“What are you talking about?”

Aiden’s eyes remain on the chopsticks in his hand.

“Isabela told me not to call you about Tommy,” he clears his throat. He steals a glance in your direction. “She said it should wait until you got back—but as usual—I panicked and called you. Now you’re back early--”

“Aiden, you didn’t ruin my retreat,” you sigh. Your palms rub against your tired eyes. “It was rocky was to begin with.”

The admission silences the office. Aiden nods before opening his mouth.

“So,” you smile as you lightly bump his shoulder with yours. “Please, don’t worry about it. Angel was probably happy you called so he could leave.”

Your gaze returns to the slow-paced printer. Upon learning you were coming home early, Aiden had sent you a text message.

📲: I have some stuff to show you about Tommy.

And by “some stuff” Aiden meant a board. He had stolen one of Samuel’s whiteboards from the conference room. The entire surface is covered in your notes and information from Tommy’s files.

“I can’t believe you did all this while I was gone,” you stare at the board. “Your girlfriend might think you’re spending too much time on me.”

Aiden’s smile is sheepish. “If I had one, I wouldn’t have had time to do this.”

“Well, remind me to find you one because this is amazing.” The tease causes Aiden’s smile to grow. “I’m serious, Aiden. I can’t believe you thought you couldn’t be any help.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” he shrugs, his gaze focused on the paper in his hand. “They’re all your notes, I just organized them.”

His eyes widen, a grin finding his lips as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Call it whatever you want,” you smile. “But I still get to say thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he rubs the back of his neck before glancing over at you. “We’re a team….speaking of...I found this.”

The picture he lifts is not new. It is one you’ve seen before. Your brow furrows as you take in the pregnant woman on display.

“I already know who that is,” you admit. “It’s the girlfriend of—”

“Alexander Maddox.” Aiden nods. “Right. I kept going back to your notes. You had one question. Why was Tommy meeting with Maddox in the first place?”

Your head shakes the confusion on your face prompting the rolling of Aiden’s eyes.

“How is this the answer?”

“You were asking the wrong question.” A mischievous grin slides onto his face as Aiden realizes you’re still not following his train of thought. “I can’t believe I figured something out before you—”

“Oh my goodness, Aiden—”

“When he was arrested, Tommy was carrying a shipment--”

“Yeah, something he shouldn’t have been doing by himself.”

Aiden’s brow arches. “You got a history of drug trafficking I don’t know about?”

“You’d be surprised what you pick up on this job.”

Aiden shakes his head as you motion for him to continue.

“While I was working, I kept thinking back to our conversation at the courthouse,” Aiden continues. “You said Tommy’s smart—"

“He uses people to get what he wants.”

“Exactly,” Aiden grins. He lifts the picture in his hand. “Why would Maddox meet up with someone from a rival club, in the middle of the night, with his pregnant girlfriend in tow if he was threatened by them?”

Aiden doesn’t bother answering the question. Instead, he waits for you to make the connection. The smile on his face remains as your eyes widen.

“Because he was there to make a deal.”

“Exactly!” Despite the smile on your face, Aiden’s face dampens. “...but that’s as far as I got. I don’t really know what made Tommy kill him—”

“Of course you do, Aiden.” Despite your reassurance and the confidence in your voice, Aiden’s expression hasn’t changed. “Your brain just needs a second to catch up. Maddox didn’t keep up his end of the deal. He probably tried to screw Tommy over. Not realizing that Tommy would kill him, girlfriend in tow.”

"Well, now we know why Tommy's been tight-lipped about that night. Probably doesn't want it to get out that he was skimming from the club's business."

The hug you give him brings the same response as before.

“I should help you out more often.” Aiden chuckles as you give him a squeeze.

“Careful,” you tease. “Angel’s not too fond of sharing.”

“Speaking of Angel…” Aiden’s gaze meets yours. “I know you asked me not to say anything to him about Samuel—”

“It’s okay.”

Aiden nods, but he continues. His rambling brings a soft smile to your lips.

“Yeah, but I just...I didn’t want you to think I was okay with what Samuel did.” His words come out quietly as he shakes his head. “The way he talked to you...it wasn’t right. You work harder than anyone here—including him—and for Samuel to do that was fucked up. I didn’t say anything in the meeting, and I should have. So, I just...I told Angel when he asked about it.”

“He would have found out eventually,” you laugh softly. “Besides, now Angel likes you.”

“For real?” The smile on Aiden’s face stretches into a grin as you nod.

A silence falls over the office as Aiden’s head rests against the desk. His brow furrows as your eyes fall to your hands. There is a final question on his mind. One he’s tried to find a way to raise since he started flipping through your notes on Saturday morning.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question lifts your gaze.

Aiden reaches into the pocket of his shirt. Your eyes widen as you take in the white card he produces. It is a card you spent the entire morning trying to find. The scheduled appointment one you have yet to share with Angel.

“It was in the notebook you turned over for me and Samuel to review,” Aiden explains as he passes the card over. “Don’t worry. I saw it before he did...I figured he was the last person you wanted to know.”

Your eyes focus on the date. A week and a half away. The initial scheduling may have been premature, but you couldn’t shake the feeling Angel was right.

“Uh...no—I mean, it’s too early to tell.” You turn the card over before looking up. “I should know by this date, so can you not tell anyone about this? I haven’t even told Izzy...or Angel for that matter. I don’t want to say anything until I’m a hundred percent sure.”

Aiden nods, a soft smile on his lips. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” You allow your head to rest back against the desk. “I don’t want to get Angel’s hopes up too early.”

It was the only thought you’ve had from the moment you woke up alongside Angel that moment. But as you glance back at the card in your hand, you know the truth has nothing to do with Angel. It’s not his hopes that you’re afraid of letting down.

You place the card aside, pulling your knees to your chest. Your gaze drifts to the board before you. The two of you sit in silence, eyes focused on your work. Silently willing your brains to come up with one more revelation before packing it up for the night.

"Alright," Aiden huffs. "I think we've gotten as far as we can get tonight."

HIs brow furrows, a chuckle filling the air as he fingers brush against your arm.

"Didn't take you for a tattoo person."

You glance over at him, following his gaze to the ink on your arm.

"Yeah, well, you've never been dragged to a tattoo parlor with Angel," you laugh. "Now, I try to avoid them at all cost."

"It's pretty cool," he grins, his eyes lingering on the design. "He has one too? Matching?"

"Yep," your eyes roll lightly. "Please don't tease me about teenage decisions."

"I won't," he chuckles. Aiden sits forward, lightly patting your leg before moving to collect the trash.

“Aiden?”

“Huh?” He glances up from the takeout containers in his hands.

“How long was he in Chino?”

“Tommy...uh, hold on.” Balancing the containers in his left, Aiden quickly rifles through the stacks of papers spread across the floor before him. “Says here...he was in Chino for....30 months.”

“Any way we can figure out where he was housed?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden admits as his eyes scan the wrap sheet. “His charges were nothing compared to now. Petty crime, so he wasn’t housed at maximum. Why?”

Once his question is met with silence, Aiden glances over his shoulder at you.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in his eyes slowly morphs to fear as he takes in your expression. “Did I miss something?”

“No, I did.”

“What do you mean?”

Before he can pose the question, you’re already pushing yourself to your feet.

“Go home, okay? It’s getting late—don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

Although you’ve managed to mask your expression, the trembling of your hands causes Aiden’s brow to furrow.

“You sure?” He objects. He quickly stands, stopping you from grabbing your keys from your desk. “I can send an email about his placement in Chino—”

“No.” Your response comes out more panicked than you want. You quickly backtrack. The reassuring smile you give Aiden not holding the weight it’s meant to. “I’ll do it in the morning. I have to go see Angel.”

“Okay.” Aiden nods. He passes over the sheet watching as you excuse yourself.

Jeyson Reyes sits at the table in the center of the clubhouse, his math homework abandoned. His attention is devoted to the bowl of skittles in front of him. He has spent that past minute carefully picking out his least favorite skittles—the yellow.

“Word on the street is you got a birthday coming up,” Angel accepts another yellow skittle before popping it in his mouth. Jeyson’s eyes widen as he briefly pauses the task at hand. Angel’s brow furrows as his eyes study his son’s face. “How old are you turning again? Five—”

“Nine!”

“Nine? Nah--that can’t be right.” Angel shakes his head as he takes in Jeyson’s broad grin. “I don’t believe you—”

“Uh-huh,” Jeyson nods, dropping another skittle into his father’s palm. “I turn nine in seventeen days.”

“Shit—”

“That’s another dollar in the swear jar,” Jeyson reminds him as he passes Angel another skittle.

“I know,” Angel chuckles. He rests back against his seat, his eyes lingering on your son as he quietly admits. “I can’t believe you’re that old.”

Jeyson’s nose scrunches. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, you are,” Angel laughs, his hand brushing against Jeyson’s hair. “You’re almost an adult.”

“I’m still a kid,” Jeyson giggles as his eyes lift to meet his father’s. “You’re old—”

“Hey—I am not old,” Angel retorts, the feigned look of offense causing your son’s giggles to increase.

Jeyson reaches over pointing towards the beard Angel’s hand passes over. “You have gray hair—lots of it.”

His father’s gaze narrows as Jeyson’s grin stretches as far as his cheeks will allow. As if to soften the blow, Jeyson drops two more skittles into Angel’s palm before eating one of his own.

Angel’s smile remains as he watches Jeyson redirect his attention back to the bowl of skittles on the table.

“Have you thought about what you want for your birthday?"

Jeyson shrugs. “Not really.”

“Not really?” Angel’s brow raises. “You’re counting down to your birthday, but you don’t know what you want?”

Jeyson lets off a second shrug, his concentration on the skittles causing Angel’s brow to furrow.

“You know we’re gonna end up getting whatever it is you want,” Angel smiles as he ruffles Jeyson’s hair. “You’ve been doing everything you’re supposed to in school.”

Despite Angel’s words, Jeyson’s gaze remains down. He chews on the inside of his cheek. The action causes his father to slide the bowl of skittles aside.

“What’s up? You don't think you can get what you want?”

Nearly a minute passes before Jeyson answers Angel’s question. His voice comes out quietly.

“I want you to stay at home.”

Angel’s brow furrows. The response is not what he’s anticipating. “I am staying at home.”

“My home, not yours.” Jeyson clarifies. “Where mom and I live.”

“That is where I’m staying.”

“You didn’t Friday. Is it because you don’t like living with us?” He asks quietly

Angel’s eyes drift shut, the tightening of his throat causing him to shake his head.

“Your mom and I—” Angel’s voice trails off as Jeyson looks up from the table to meet his gaze.

It is a conversation neither of them has breached before. One Jeyson has found himself thinking about more and more. One Angel knew he would eventually have with his son, but he hadn’t anticipated it to be now. He had also hoped you would be around to help him.

“You having two homes has nothing to do with me not wanting to live with you—or your mom. You don’t remember it, you were too little, but your mom and I...we used to fight a lot.” Angel continues. “I wasn’t nice to her, and I made her cry a lot. So I had to leave. I didn’t want to leave you or her, but I also didn’t want to hurt you or your mom. It took me a while to learn how not to do that. Friday...I couldn’t come home because I didn’t want to fight with your mom.”

“You still made her cry.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Leaning over, Angel brushes his hand against Jeyson’s hair. His touch forces Jeyson’s eyes to meet his. “You know how you and your friends get mad at each other? Sometimes we get mad at the people we love because we don’t see things the same way. But your mom being mad at me has nothing to do with you. Okay? Just because your mom and I might fight, it doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

The soft smile Angel offers him prompts Jeyson to give him one in return.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m staying with you and your mom or at my house. I love you. That’s not ever gonna change. Never has, never will. Got it?”

Jeyson nods, his smile growing as Angel places a kiss against his skin.

As Jeyson's attention returns to the bowl of skittles, Angel reaches into his kutte. He pulls out the white envelope that he found in the mailbox upon your return home.

He studies the unfamiliar handwriting. Printed in block letters are his name and your address. His gaze passes over the generic American Flag stamp and date pressed into the right corner. The lack of a return address causes him to flip the envelope over.

Angel waits until he comes to a stop outside of the clubhouse to give the envelope a second glance. Tearing the side, he reaches inside pulling out a single index card. The handwriting matches that printed on the envelope.

An anniversary gift for the Old Lady.

Angel tips the envelope. His stomach tightens as the chill of a silver chain hits his palm. The buzzing of his phone in his kutte pocket goes ignored. He doesn’t need to unravel the chain to know who the necklace belongs to. He has looked at the necklace nearly every day since he was eighteen.

The continued vibration of his phone forces an irritated “fuck” from Angel’s lip before he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“What?”

“This is a prepaid call from Thomas Flores, an inmate at the state correctional facility. All phone calls are subject to recording and monitoring. To decline the call, please press nine. To accept the call and all charges that will be incurred, please press one.”

Angel doesn’t remember committing the act of acceptance. A moment later, Tommy’s voice echoes through his receiver. For a man locked inside the walls of Stockton, his voice is calm and lighthearted.

“Damn, it’s been a minute since I’ve heard your voice, Reyes. Can you believe I missed it?”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Angel growls, his grip tightening around his phone. “How’d you get this number?”

“Come on, Reyes--give me some credit. I got it the same way I got your address,” Tommy chuckles. “I had to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary. It just passed, right? What is it six—no—seven years? Hopefully, the two of you are doing better these days—”

“Why are you calling?”

“That’s the funny thing,” Tommy sighs, the smile on his face stretches into a grin. “See, I was in my cell a few weeks back, thinking to myself—got a lot of time for that nowadays—and naturally, that led to me thinking of you. And how I missed my old cellmate. Then I remembered...you owe me a favor.”

“A favor? I don’t owe you shit--”

“That’s not how this shit works. I think the person who’s owed a debt gets to decide when it’s paid in full.” Tommy pauses, the silence from Angel’s end allowing him to continue. “Funny thing, I wouldn’t have even thought to call on you for this, but you made a simple mistake all those years ago, Angel. You talked too much...If you don’t want someone to use your Achilles, you don’t share it.” Angel’s brow furrows as Tommy’s words slowly begin to sink in. “Now, you know I’m not a religious man, but I bet you can imagine how good I felt when I realized that God, himself, dropped Y/N into my lap. What are the odds that she and I got brought together? Huh? It’d be a shame to let this God-given opportunity go to waste, don’t you think?”

“What the fuck do you want, Tommy?”

“A lot of things,” Tommy admits. “A turn with your pretty wife for starters. The way you put it, she’d do just about anything for you--”

“She’s not doing anything for you--”

“That’s okay,” Tommy chuckles. “You’ve always had my back when it came down to the wire.”

Angel’s head shakes. “No—Fuck this—I’m hanging up. I told you that night. One and done—”

“I take it you got my gift,” Tommy ignores Angel’s declaration. “And...judging by the unnecessary hostility I’m sensing in your voice, you took a trip down South recently.”

“I want what you took—”

“And you can get it back—scout’s honor.” The sincerity in Tommy’s voice would fool a stranger, but not Angel. “After you help me out one last time. For old times sake.”

“I’m not helping you do shit.”

“Damn,” Tommy sighs. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“And you’re gonna leave her alone. Come up with an excuse, I don’t care. You’re finding a new attorney—”

“No can do, Reyes. See, I don’t benefit by losing her.” Tommy explains. “Unless you wanna consider my proposal. Last time I’m offering. I think you’ll find my way is the easiest—for everybody involved.”

A silence falls over the line. The trembling of his hands tightening Angel’s grip on his cellphone.

“Alright, well, my time is almost up,” Tommy yawns. His eyes pass to the clock overhead. “Plus, I know it was a lot to dump on you, so I'll give you the night to mull it over. Tell your lady I said thanks for visiting me today.”

Angel’s continued silence brings a grin to Tommy’s face. His chuckle fills this receiver.

“You haven’t told her yet….Tell me, what do you think she’s gonna say when your secret gets out? Do you think she’s gonna stick around this time? If that shit gets out, you’ll be facing more than some 18-month stint in Chino, Reyes. You’ll be facing some real-time. Ask your baby brother how that shit sits with you. All it’ll take is some rumors about the location of a missing state’s witness to start swirling...evidence anonymously getting dropped into the hands of the right people...then you and I just might be sharing a cell again.”

“Trust me, you don’t want that shit to happen.”

“Maybe...maybe not...only time will tell.” Tommy sighs. The calmness of his voice is the opposite of the feeling causing Angel to force out an unsteady breath. “Do me a favor, check with your old lady on how to get on my visitation list. I think you owe me a visit, make the shit quick, Reyes. Maybe she can get them to expedite the paperwork. You got a job to do, and your clock is ticking, homie.”

There is no need for additional words to be exchanged. Tommy hangs up, leaving Angel standing at the end of the driveway. No matter how hard Angel tried to resist—or tried to appear that he was—Tommy knew the hook was set the moment the call began.

When you pull into the clubhouse lot, you find Angel standing at the base of the clubhouse steps.

His eyes meet yours as you park, but he makes no move to meet you. The question is out before you can step around the front of your car.

“Do you know Tommy Flores?”

Angel’s eyes may be on you, but his mind is somewhere else.

“What?”

“Thomas Flores. He was serving time in Chino. Longer than you—thirty months—but you were there the exact same time. Did you hear about him while you were there?” Your question is met with silence. Angel blinks. His brow furrows as he watches you cross the lot. “I know it’s a random question, but Angel it’s really important. Okay?”

It’s common for people to cross paths. Chino is not a prison. It’s smaller than Stockton. Inmates flood in and out like clockwork. That's what your mind can produce in the time it takes you to come to a stop before him.

But it’s the look in Angel’s eyes that tightens your stomach.

It’s a look you’ve only seen once in your life.

Nearly two years ago. A night you hadn't revisited in quite some time.

When Angel had shown up unannounced at your house. This was nothing new.

Only this time, the pounding on your front door had woken you, Jeyson, and nearly half the neighborhood.

Your initial assumption was that he was drunk—it wouldn’t have been the first time Angel had shown up after a few beers and a shitty hookup only to find his way back to you. Begging you to let him stay the night, swearing to plead his drunken case, only to pass out against you the moment you were seated on the sofa.

Only this time—the moment you’d gotten the door open you were crushed by his weight. Angel's grip had been tight. The pressure caused you to wince as his face burrowed against your skin.

For once, you couldn't detect alcohol--just sweat and dirt. His grip had tightened as you tried to move back and take a better look at him.

You didn't get much out of him that night. The most you could get him to do was shower. Which was for the best because, by the time you'd helped him dry off, Angel's adrenaline crashed. He’d passed out in your bed a minute later.

In the morning, he didn’t produce much of an explanation.

"Sorry if I scared you last night," he'd mumbled as he headed to the door. "I know you asked me not to show up—unannounced like that but—I just wanted to see you."

“Yeah,” Angel nods. “I knew him.”

You wait for elaboration, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Angel takes a step back. He finds a seat on the steps, his left hand reaching up to rub his eyes.

“Yeah, I knew him? What the hell does that mean? You knew of him, or you kn—”

“No, I knew—I know him.” Angel releases a sigh, his fist crumpling the envelope he holds. “He was my cellmate.”

“No, he wasn't.” The response is automatic. The laugh you release echoes across the parking lot. The meaning behind Angel’s silence doesn’t fully register. Your brain is still reeling, trying to find a rational explanation to deny his statement and what it means. You shake your head. “No, he wasn’t. That is not fucking possible—“

“Cellblock D. That’s where they house all gang-affiliated inmates. They don’t give a shit if you’re an MC or not. It’s all the same.” Angel quietly explains, his eyes watching the realization begin to sink into your features. “They put you together with guys from other places, knowing you might not have a brother to watch your back if you need protection. Tommy’s cellmate had recently been discharged. So, after intake, I took the open space—“

“Angel, stop. I can’t have you telling me this,” you cut him off. The sight of your widened eyes not deferring Angel’s train of thought. “Do you know what this means for my case? Why couldn’t you just lie to me—”

“Because what I need to tell you is worse.”

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#lost one of tommy's scenes and retyped it off memory #so hopefully it's good lol #but let me know what you think?#angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes x reader #lover of mine

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ct7567329 · 3 years

Text

Welcome Back: Fives x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+ Please! I'll mark where it starts, so you can still enjoy the first half!)

Words: 2.5k

Corellia was dark as always. You hated this. As you strolled down the crowded street, you held your breath in disgust. The filth of the planet made you gag, but, you felt as if Corellia was the safest place to be. Crowded and disgusting, the opposite of what you liked. During the Clone Wars, post wars plans were frequently discussed among your men. You often found yourself thinking about the plans the men had. Rex wanted to be a farmer, Hardcase an actor for an action packed holovid, Jesse a dad, and Fives, well, Fives didn't care what he did, as long as those plans included you.

Before you could spiral too deep into those thoughts, you shook your head, attempting to clear your mind. Order 66 had ruined all of those plans for everyone, and two years later, you still couldn't fully process that.

As you continued down the street, you constantly glanced around for imperial stormtroopers. It felt as if as more time passed from the Jedi purge, your touch with the force faded. You could no longer simply "sense" people's presence without thinking too hard about it.

Roughly one hundred yards away from you was a small group of stormtroopers. Out of instinct, you threw your hood over your head and tried to blend in as much as possible. As you got closer to the troopers, you ran your fingers along a soot covered bench and smeared it down your cheek, trying to disguise your facial features. On the rare chance any of those stormtroopers were clones, you could easily be recognized. The empire knew you were alive, and you didn't even want to think of the bounty over your head.

You wondered if any of troopers were clones. With there being only a few meters away from the soldiers, you glanced at them as any Corellian would. You felt one of the troopers eyes meet yours though his helmet momentarily. He watched you as you picked up your pace though the crowd, the slow turning motion of this head indicating this. After a minute or so of your quicken pace, you felt as if you were a good enough distance away from the solider that made eye contact with you. You paused and slid into an alley located only a few blocks from the run down apartment complex you call home. You sat on an empty crate and sighed, pulling your hood down. The last time you felt that stare was two tears ago.

Just like the last locked gaze you shared with Fives.

That last glance.

He was shooting at you. Through his helmet, you could sense his tears. Fives didn't want to hurt you, and you knew that. But, he had no other choice. You remember clenching your jaw, holding back tears. There was no escaping with him. You leapt from the building you were in and ran. You ran as far as you could. Far from Fives. Far from your life. Far from everything. Everything you knew was gone.

All you could ever wish for is that forever lasting nightmare to stop replaying in your head every time you saw a stormtrooper. But, that was a hopeless wish.

You ran your soot covered fingers through your hair and sighed. Just as you were about to stand up, the stormtrooper you locked eyes with was standing at the alley entrance, his blaster held lazily as his side. Figuring it was just a routine check, you began to reach for the identification card in your pocket. It was forged of course, but it always seemed to check out with the troopers. The trooper still hasn't spoken when you extended your arm, showing him your identification. His helmet tilted downwards as he read the name.

He chuckled, "Arilani Forrest? Creative!"

"No one has ever called me creative before," you mumbled, "but I best be on my way. I have a shift at the mining yard soon."

"Oh really?" his voice perked up, "would have never imagined you doing that." He began to walk towards you, forcing you to walk deeper into the alley.

You shrugged, "It was the best work I could get. Anything to better the empire." You HATED saying those words, "I'm honored to work for such a great-"

The trooper took off his hemet, making you stop mid-sentence. No wonder that glance felt familiar. It really was Fives.

Anger and passion fought within you as you stared blankly at him. Then fear hit. Quickly, you took a few steps back.

"Get away from me," you spit out.

Fives' smile turned to a frown, "Cyare, let me explain."

"You tried to kill me! You probably still are! And you just expect me to listen to you? To let my guard down and listen to the man who captured my heart and tear it to shreds?!"

"Don't act like that day was any harder for you as it was for me," he begged, stepping towards you, putting his blaster on the ground. "Remember Tup? I took that stupid chip out after that. That's why I cut my hair. I had to keep that a secret. For my safety, for your safety, for our safety!"

"Why should I trust you?" you murmured, trying to hold back tears.

Fives gave you a sympathetic smile, "Because you always used to tell me that I was the best shot in the 501st. You told me that there wasn't a single target I couldn't miss. If you really meant that, then why did I miss every shot I made at you. I wasn't even close. I was never shooting at you. If I didn't follow the order, I would have been killed right then and there. I knew you were capable of surviving. That's why I followed everyone else, knowing you would escape, hoping one day I could find you!" his smile grew, "it took two, long, excruciating years but you're here!"

You were quivering. As he stared at you, awaiting your response, you closed your eyes and exhaled, channeling the force. You came within arms length of him and placed your hands on the side of his head. Your heart skipped a beat at the touch. As you let the force speak to you, you soon came to realize he wasn't lying. There was no chip in his head. You let your arms fall to his neck as you pulled him close to you, your slow tears making his under armor around his neck wet.

His strong arms wrapped around your waist and pressed your body against his. The crappy armor felt uncomfortable on your cheek but you didn't mind. Fives twirled your hair around one of his fingers, the other hand stroking your back. The only reason why he "stayed loyal to the empire" was for this moment, no matter how long he had to wait for it.

Fives released your hair from his fingers and placed his hand on your chin, angling your face towards his. He took his glove off, exposing a clean hand, which he used to rub the soot off you cheek.

"Still as beautiful as ever," he murmured, studying your face as if he would never see it again.

"Fives, I-"

You were interrupted by his com link. He quickly threw his helmet and answered, explaining that he was simply doing identification checks, and he would report back soon. As soon as he ended the conversation, he took his helmet off and chucked in a nearby dumpster.

"I don't want to be a stormtrooper anymore," he sighed, his hands placed on your upper arms. "Please, get me out of here. They don't need me anymore."

You let out a small laugh, "While it will be a loss to the empire, let's get you, or, us, out of this nightmare."

The dark clouds over the Corellian sky finally began to give way, polluted rain hitting every surface. Rain on Corellia was vile, but in that moment, eyes locked with Fives, it didn't matter. He took off the rest of his armor and put it in the same dumpster as his helmet.

Digging through the trash, you found a battered cloak and threw it over him. "This will help you not stand out. I think the imperial logo on your shirt will give a little too much away. But let's get going. The rain is clearing out the streets."

He nodded in agreement and followed you to your apartment building. As you entered the elevator with him, you noticed he had a look of disgust.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fives shook his head, "would have never expected someone like you to live somewhere so disgusting."

"Exactly. That's why I'm here. You don't get options when the empire is out to kill you," you explained as you unlocked the front door.

The apartment was smaller than Fives expected. He thought the 501st barracks were nicer than your apartment, which was clearly saying something. He glanced to his right and watched you take off your robes, revealing an outfit similar to the one you wore during the Clone Wars. As much as he loved it, he hated it. He hated knowing that every other man in the GAR would stare at the way it hugged your body, making you look far better than any model on the holonet. But, he loved knowing that you were all his.

"Yes?" you laughed, catching Fives staring at you in awe.

Fives swallowed hard, nodding, "Just looking at the most beautiful thing in the galaxy." He slowly walked towards you and pressed his lips against the side of your ear, "we have two years of catching up to do."

Smirking, you hopped up to sit on your kitchen counter, "723 standard rotations to be exact," you winked, playfully grabbing his hands.

His forehead met yours as he whispered, "I think I forgot how it feels to kiss you and cyar'ika, I've thought about it every day."

SMUT INCOMING

"Then what are you waiting for," you lustfully groaned into his ear.

That was all he needed to hear. Before you had the chance to take another breath, his lips were on yours, filling your body with a euphoria you haven't felt since the order. It felt as if no time passed at all, he still had every square inch of your mouth memorized. Fives put his hands on your ass, pushing your hips into his, you both instantly feeling the heat coming from the other.

"We need to get you off this counter," he groaned, nibbling on your lower lip. You moaned something inaudible in response as he picked you up and shoved your body onto the nearby couch. Straddling over you, he took a moment to stare at the sight. He longed for the day he could see you under him again.

As Fives grinded his hips against yours, you couldn't help but notice the growth in his blacks on the brink of busting open the cheap fabric. Your hands made their way to his waistband, which you didn't hesitate to pull down, exposing a fully erect Fives. The sight alone was enough to push you over the edge.

"Like what you see?" he smirked, taking the rest of his bottoms off and tossing them across the room. But before you could respond, he pressed a finger against your lips, "Now this isn't fair is it?" he wined, tugging at the hem of your shirt. In one swift motion, your shirt and bra was next to his discarded pants. Still straddled over you, fully exposed, he gawked at the sight in front of him. As he was in la la land, you pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the same toned body that made your knees weak when you first met him. You reached up to touch his left peck, running your fingers down his chest.

"Oh my handsome ARC," you whispered, tracing the outline of his abs. Two years later, pulling rank still sent him over the edge.

"That's it," he groaned, pressing his chest against yours and grinding hander into your hips. You were gasping his name with every push, which only made him push harder. Fives slipped his fingers into your pants and softly ran his index finger up your soaked clit. He pulled his finger out, your moan being music to his ears, and licked his finger dry. Fives knew damn well he was driving you up the wall, and had no plans on stopping.

You quivered at Fives' touch, and pulled the rest of your clothes off. Fives collapsed his body onto yours, the sensation of full skin to skin contact making his body tremor. As you both laid there motionless, taking in the moment, his throbbing cock kept poking at your entrance.

"Fives," you groaned, knowing you didn't even need to finish your sentence.

Slowly, he pushed the tip of his cock into you, listening to you moan under the pressure. As Fives pushed in further, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He steadily thrusted in and out, giving you enough time to adjust to his size. Every next thrust came faster and harder. Your jaw was clenched as you groaned, trying to hold back the orgasm.

"I know you're close cyare," he said between thrusts, "where do you want it?"

Breathing heavily, you put your hands on Fives' lower back, preventing him to pull out for another thrust, "The damn war is over and we can finally live our dreams," you gasped for air, "it's a risk we can now take." You let go of his back and he continued to pump into you. As soon as you felt as if he was on the verge of splitting you right up the middle, you let out a loud moan as your walls clenched around his cock, which was simultaneously, filling you up. Fives laid down on top of you, still inside you, as you both rode out your orgasms.

"Fives," you panted, running your fingers through his hair. He smiled and shut his eyes, placing his head on your chest, listening to your rapid heartbeat.

"Oh maker, I love you," he wined, nuzzling his head into your neck. He slid his softening cock out of you and got up, grabbing a blanket from across the room. You stared at his naked body, shining with the sweat you two just created. It was like staring at an ancient god. He laid the blanket over you and sat down, pulling you onto his chest.

"Welcome back my love," you smiled, tracing your finger on his chest.

"Hope I wasn't gone too long," he winked, watching you fall asleep in his arms.

It took two years, but finally, the post war dreams you shared were finally coming true.

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

shut in [3]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, ptsd, fighting over beds

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: every part i introduce more anonymous characters smh. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Don’t make me shoot you, Wilson.”

“It doesn’t have to end this way, agent.”

“How’s it looking out there?”

“There’s been some talk. Apparently Serpentine isn’t very happy that their intel is dead. They’ve got people looking out for you everywhere.”

A frown adorned your face. Sam was leaning forward on his arms, head turned down as he listened to Ransone.

“How dangerous is it?”

“I would say that everyone’s a little wound up. Best not to go anywhere even a little populated.”

“Noted.” It would blow over in a while. The media coverage of Pierce’s assassination would die down with the changing news cycle soon.

“I can have someone pick you up wherever you are. Just tell me where.”

“Don’t bother. We won’t be here for too long,” you responded, Sam nodding in agreement. Once it quietened down you could leave, go back to Ransone without blowing your cover.

“Whatever makes you happy. Just let me know when you’re out.”

The click of the call ending took with it the only noise in the room.

Sam picked up the phone to remove the battery, discarding it to maintain your security. Burner phones were useful, but you didn’t want to take any chances.

“Wait,” you cut in, holding your hand out for it, “I need to make another call.”

The both of you were seated at the dining table. A piece of paper lay in front of you, playing the dangerous role of being the mediator.

You were trying to ration out your supplies and create a schedule as a way of finding middle ground. Things were more or less calm for the last two days, but the fight over the bedroom was wading into territory that could only be solved by a good old middle school fistfight.

Currently you were figuring out a meal plan so that you could establish some kind of routine. With bread as the only uniting factor, the other three components were going on a rotation. You had reached all the way till Saturday before running out of possible combinations.

“I’m just saying-”

“Don’t.”

“We’ve exhausted all edible options, it’s the only combination left-”

“I will not hesitate to fatally wound you.” You were only half kidding. The ridiculousness of the ideas he was proposing was entertaining, and you knew he wasn’t being serious. It was hard to catch a moment where he was.

“Fine. But in case we get to the point where peanut butter and jelly is the only thing that’s left, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

“I would rather die than shovel spoonfuls of plain jelly and peanut butter into my mouth.”

“Your survival game is weak,” he chided, tsk-tsking at you.

You only rolled your eyes at him, moving on to the next subject.

Bed.

“Easy, we just alternate days. You got the last two days, so I get the next two and then we just switch everyday.” Sam eased back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head leisurely.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” you asked, writing down the plan he had just presented. The bed wasn’t queen sized with memory foam or any kind of privilege like that, but it definitely beat the couch with its odd lumps and depressions.

“A week tops. Anything more is just excessive.”

“Hello,” you said, voice low, even though you were well out of earshot of Sam. He was eying you from the living room window. If he was as good as he claimed he was, he’d know how to read lips and you couldn’t afford to have him do that.

“Code?”

You turned your back to the window, facing the large trees that loomed before you. “1993. It’s me.”

“Y/N?” He sounded suspicious, a little shocked, and you understood why he would be.

“Living and breathing.” You toed at a rock that lay ahead of you.

“Word on the street is that you’re dead,” he pointed out dryly.

“Not me; Pierce. I escaped. It was a trap.” When the rock you were playing around with escaped after a particularly hard kick, you started pacing up and down instead, “Ransone put a hit out on him because he thought he was leaking information.”

“How on earth did he come to that conclusion?”

“Don’t know. He was dead before we got there.”

“Who is ‘we’? You got someone there with you?” You didn’t realise it had slipped out during your conversation.

“Another one of our guys. Apparently I was a backup in case he didn’t show up, but he did, so now we’re stuck together.” You averted your gaze to Sam who was still observing you from the window brazenly, intently.

“Where are you?”

“We’re safe.”

“Alright.” He sounded like he understood, albeit not entirely convinced. “Stay low.”

“Will do.”

With that you hung up the call, dropped the phone to the ground and crushed it under your boot heel. When you were convinced that it was sufficiently useless, you turned on your heel, making your way back.

You walked back into the house, beelining to the kitchen to make up for your missed lunch, only to be greeted with Sam sitting on the couch looking at you inquisitively.

“Who was that?”

“Nobody,” you answered straightforwardly, opening the cabinet to get two slices of bread.

“If it has somethin’ to do with this situation we’re in then I need to know who you’re talking to.”

“Just drop it. It has nothing to do with you.” You found the jar of peanut butter he had already opened, using a butter knife to spread it along the bread.

“Somehow I’m finding that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you must. I’m going to take a nap,” you answered evasively, chewing absentmindedly on the sandwich you had just made. You didn’t bother to look at him as you headed towards the bedroom.

“Hey now, hold on a minute. Who said you had bedroom privileges? You’ve been using it for two days.” You stopped in your tracks, face scrunching in annoyance. “If you’re keeping vital information about my life from me, then I think I deserve to not have a fuckin’ backache when I wake up in the morning.”

You quickly weighed the pros and cons in your head, imagining how the next few minutes would pan out if you just said ‘no’ and left. But in every imaginary argument you proposed, the bottom line ended with him prodding at you until he either got the information that he wanted or the bed.

Frankly, the bed was something you were willing to sacrifice to get him to stop meddling in your business. It seemed like the only reasonable way to get him off your ass.

“Fine.” You spun around to face him. “We’re making an arrangement.”

“Whoever has the bed has to forfeit TV privileges for that day.”

“Sounds reasonable. None of those three movies can be played more than twice in a row.”

That was more to preserve your sanity than anything. You had already seen each of them once, bordering on thrice for Die Hard. Sam’s fault, not yours.

“We should have a codeword. In case there's danger or something. Or maybe if you just want to be left alone,” Sam suggested, finger pointing to the blank space left at the end of the paper. “But it’ll be like solitary confinement since it’s so fuckin’ quiet here.”

Almost on instinct your mind flashed to images of dark cells. Quiet sobs. Blood stains on the wall, originating from clawing at it. Sunlight through one small window at the top. Utter loneliness except for yourself.

You could remember the soreness in your legs from curling up into a ball for hours, rocking back and forth. The smell of drain water collecting in the basement where the cell was.

Isolation.

“You got any suggestions?”

“Huh?” You forced yourself back to the present. Your knuckles had a dull ache in them from holding the pencil too hard.

“Do you have any ideas for a codeword?” Sam repeated, looking at you intently.

“No, nothing off the top of my head.” You shook your head, trying to regain focus. You loosened your grip on the pencil, letting it fall to the table.

“We’ll just leave it at ‘Brooklyn’ for the time being.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed to whatever he was saying. It was just a precaution in case something major happened. It was rather unlikely that you were going to use it anyway.

Codewords weren’t uncommon in your business, but it was mostly used for missions or other professional standings. Regardless of being less adventurous than what you tended to work on, this was work at the end of the day.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think we’re done.” His chair scraped loudly against the ground as he got up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out for a while. Need to shake off the possible osteoporosis.”

You didn’t bother asking where he was going, ears following his footsteps as he walked down the hall to the bedroom, probably to get his jacket that he hung up in the drawer.

You left the paper on top of the mini fridge, alongside the car keys and a few dollars you had nabbed in the hurry from Pierce’s house.

Staring around you at the silent room, you realised that there really wasn’t much to do. It wasn’t like you to have so much time on your hands. You could always go for a run or test out some of the weapons hidden here.

You had the rest of the house to explore, plans to draw up, a post mortem to assess what went wrong on the mission, even though the last option wasn’t possible without Sam’s cooperation.

Fuck it, you decided. Couch it is.

Kicking your feet up, you grabbed the TV remote to flip to the news station. The town rarely had anything to report on but it would be worthwhile to know what exactly was available around. Possibly assimilate in the crowd in case you wanted to be hidden.

It took you a few minutes of mindless surfing through static channels till you found it. It seemed like a scene right out of a Hallmark movie; the reporter was holding a microphone to a child who looked like he understood nothing of what was going on.

You were barely paying attention as it flipped from segment to segment, other things taking precedence in your mind even though you willed yourself to relax. There really wasn’t much to make a note of other than a few good samaritans and how utterly boring the lack of content was. A few occasional glimpses of stores and other resources available in the background were the only interesting part.

You were starting to drift off by the time it reached the breaking news of the evening. Sam had already come back when the sky slipped into twilight. He barely acknowledged your form lazing on the couch, only offering you a greeting and a goodbye as he made himself his dinner to take to the room.

Your eyes were just about closing when the breaking news of that evening came in. It was all politics. People you knew from old missions waving and smiling their way to lead their country as if the dubious acts they committed behind the scenes to get there was erased.

Until you suddenly jolted awake, eyes wide open.

“Wilson. Wilson!” You hit the cushion furiously to get his attention when he didn’t respond the first time around.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What?” he yelled in response, mild irritation in his voice. You knew it sounded like you were shouting bloody murder even though no one was around other than you two, but you didn’t care.

“Look at this!” You couldn’t stop gawking at the screen. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“What? What do you wa-” He stalked into the room, ready to tell you to stop yelling but stopped mid sentence when he finally saw what you were so concerned about.

“Reports claim that the victim was attacked early in the afternoon at his villa. Officers say they found multiple signs of a forced entry, following which he was shot dead. So far no arrests have been made but the police have since released photos of two suspects of whom, they claim, have reason to believe orchestrated the attack.”

On the right side of the screen flashed yours and Sam’s picture side by side. Old mugshots from a petty offence you committed years ago for which Ransone bailed you out.

“The pair are said to be on the run after escaping before law enforcement arrived. If you have any tips on the whereabouts of-”

You turned to look at Sam. His stare didn’t budge from the TV as they once again reminded the public what you both looked like.

Years of anonymity, working in the shadows and creeping around to avoid being recognised only to have the entire country know what you looked like.

“Well, shit,” he finally exhaled. “Somehow I think our stay here just got extended.”

Part 4

#sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #mcu fic #sam fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson series #falcon #falcon x reader #the falcon x reader #hitman!sam wilson #hitman!au #shut in fic #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #sam wilson #the falcon

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elmidol · 3 years

Text

Propane Nightmares [NSFW]

Pairing: Tyki x Reader x Earl

Warnings: Noncon; dubcon; loss of virginity; aphrodisiacs; canon-typical religious elements; fingering; double-penetration; oral; potentially other elements?; some verbal humiliation; probably some blasphemy

Notes: Originally Written April 25, 2011. Titled after “Propane Nightmares” by Pendulum. word count is a little over 8k.

reposting for @maskedjoker because I saw that tag on my Earl and Tyki thirst post~

Propane Nightmares

Originally, you had been appointed the task of gathering more information on the Noah after rumor had circulated regarding formal meetings between them and the folks of high society. Such was your job as a finder. No one had bothered the divulge, however, that the Noah had been tipped off on the Order’s intentions; there had been no cancellations on your orders, and, subsequently, no means for your knowing that your drink would be laced with drugs. It had been a sleeping drug, which had caused you to wander off from the other guests prior to passing out. When you had awoken, you had found yourself chained to a chair, your feet snug against the legs of the chair, and hands bound behind your back. Tyki Mikk sat in front of you, straddling a second chair, whose back was facing you. You watched his lips twist upwards upon his noticing you had awoken.

Your eyes wandered around the room, taking in all of your surroundings. It was a study of some sort, from what you could tell; a few bookshelves, a desk on the far wall, and an assortment of chairs. Upon returning your gaze to the Noah, you released a small gasp and your eyes widened—a second man stood behind Tyki. This gentleman you had previously believed to be one of the Earl’s many brokers. His current presence, however, allowed you to realize that he had a more intimate connection with the Family Noah. I wonder what his powers are, you thought to yourself; the Order already possessed information regarding Tyki Mikk’s abilities. Due to this fact, you jumped half an inch in your seat when Tyki leaned forward.

“Don’t be scared, girl~” Tyki said calmly, his smile a mockery of innocence. You shuddered at how well he pulled off the nice-guy façade. “We just want to ask you some questions.”

You swallowed hard, stiffened, and then took a deep breath. “I…I’ll die before I tell you…anything.” Despite the stutter and hesitance, your tone held true to the courage you were feeling—you were willing to die before handing over any sort of information to these men; no, they were monsters.

Tyki reached past the back of the chair and placed his hand on your knee. His fingers gently rolled the muscles surrounding your kneecap, the actions reminiscent of a massage. “The Order has made sure you won’t talk even when pressured by torture, right?” You narrowed your eyes slightly, your teeth gritting together behind your frown. Tyki’s voice dropped in volume, growing husky. “That’s why I’m here~”

“So what, you’ll remove my organs one by one?” you ground out, jerking your knee away. Your joint hardly slipped out of the Noah’s hands before the chain prevented you from venturing further.

Tyki smirked, swung his leg over the side of the chair, and stood in a fluid, graceful movement that left you blinking. You shrank into your seat a little. He, on the other hand, closed to distance between the two of you and there knelt. His eyes locked with yours; you held his gaze with eyelids half-closed. Your heart beat faster in your chest as you fully expected him to reach within you—his hand slid closer, fingers travelling up your leg—and you were waiting for him to go for a kidney. Without removing your clothes, his flesh met yours—in a much different manner than what you had expected.

You released a loud gasp prior to biting down on your bottom lip and averting your gaze; his fingers danced along your inner-thigh, travelling upward until just their tips met with your lower lips. You shifted your hips away from his touch. Tyki, an amused grin spreading at your retreat, only thrust his hand forward, and slipped his middle finger into your depths. Your eyes widened, and your legs began to shake.

“St-stop.” Tyki only stuck his tongue out at you. You stared at the organ, a deep flush settling on your face as he waggled it suggestively. He started thrusting the single digit in and out. He cupped your entire pussy in his hand, rubbing your outer lips while continuously withdrawing and plunging his finger inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut and attempted to cross your legs. The chains prevented you from accomplishing this task; all you had managed to do was trap Tyki’s arm between your thighs. Your breathing grew labored, and you flinched when a second finger was added.

The Noah gripped your legs with his free hand and spread them once again. He pushed his torso closer to you, making sure you would be unable to shift too much for his liking.

The Millennium Earl, meanwhile, had shifted position in the room; he stood so where he was able to better see what Tyki was doing to you. At the same time, he made certain he was able to view your face. His lips twitched upward upon seeing you begin to rotate your hips in time with the Noah’s sinful fingers.

Just as your body was beginning to grow warm, just as you could feel the tingling waves of pleasure coursing through yourself, Tyki’s fingers retreated. Your eyes snapped open. You continued to pant, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of Tyki’s tongue lapping against the digits that had previously been inside of you.

“How many days have you been here?” the Noah asked, cocking his head to the side. Through with speaking, he sucked his fingers into his mouth and released a husky moan that sent fire shooting through your loins.

You only shook your head in response.

Tyki sighed, seemingly disappointed, before straightening himself up. He stood in front of you at that point, his hands working at the front of his pants. You swallowed twice as saliva gathered in your mouth, your breathing growing heavier by the minute. This sensation was foreign to you; having been recruited by the Order at a young age, you had been discouraged from participating in any act remotely sexual. In fact, education on sexual manners had been so censored that your eyes grew wide as saucers the moment Tyki tugged his pants halfway down his hips. The sight of his penis enthralled, disgusted, and repelled you at once.

You could not tear your eyes away even as he reached forward with on hand, gripped the back of your chair, and with the second hand took hold of his cock.

“That was an easy one too,” Tyki said with a laugh, his breathing growing rigid as he began to pump himself. He watched you, and was overly amused by the fact that your eyes were glued to his growing erection. “Ah, that’s right. You were probably raised by the Order, huh? You’ve never seen a dick?” He shifted his fingers to allow you a better view.

You bit down harder on your bottom lip and forced yourself to look away; fascinated though you might have been, you were still convinced of the Order’s teachings that premarital sexual activities were wrong—sinful.

The second male moved into your line of sight. You stared at him, still unsure of his abilities as a Noah. His presence also made you highly uncomfortable knowing that he was watching every dirty deed Tyki had performed—and would likely perform—with you. Tyki’s hand stopped mid-stroke and he muttered out ‘Duke’ when the man stepped between you and the Noah of Pleasure. Your eyes widened considerably at the revelation—the Millennium Earl had a human form, and said form was currently standing before you. He removed the hat from his head, set it off to the side, and stood erect once again. Your eyes were locked with his as he repeated Tyki’s previous question: how many days had you been there?

“You…you can go suck a dick!” you said with a hiss.

The Earl and Tyki both laughed a single, baritone chuckle and locked gazes with one another. Tyki’s hand ran up his length while the Earl motioned towards the Noah of Pleasure’s erection. “That one?” They both watched your face; the expression of pure and utter shock, of morbid curiosity and disgust as it crossed your features. Your eyes flickered between the Earl’s motioning hand and Tyki’s shaft.

“Th-that’s….”

Before you could finish your sentence, the Earl interrupted you, supplying an ending, “A sin?”

“A handful of sins!”

He cocked his head to the side, suddenly interested. “Oh? Not just the homosexual aspect, I see. Has the church taught you that oral sex is a sin? Then…if I were to…” With each word he moved closer to you, knelt between your legs, and had you literally trembling as his hands reached into the hem of your pants. He tugged them down, your panties in tow, and blew lightly on your exposed pussy. The warm air had you gasping and closing your eyes tightly. “…do this…” He pushed his face into you, his tongue wiggling out of his mouth and lapping at you. Your mind swam with a multitude of emotions as the sensation of immense pleasure filled you. His tongue retreated long enough for him to finish, “…are we sinning together?”

Your bottom lip slipped out from between your teeth, a chunk of shaky breaths erupting from your mouth. The Earl, meanwhile, began nibbling your inner lips, his tongue flicking along and tracing the entrance of your vagina prior to slinking in. You looked away from the Earl, trying to force the sight of him eating you out from your mind—the feeling alone was enough to boggle your brain. This, however, only resulted in you catching a glimpse and thus becoming entranced by Tyki’s hands pleasuring himself. One hand rolled his balls around, the other running up and down his shaft, fingers caressing the head.

You spread your legs wider just slightly without realizing what you were doing, and the Earl grinned at the obvious invitation. He left you disappointed; though amused and pleased with the fact that your body was responding so nicely to his ministrations, he drew back. Tyki, likewise, stopped masturbating, and your gaze fell away from him to the Earl’s face. You stared at the head of the Noah clan, your face flushed with arousal, embarrassment and anger, and your breathing coming out in deep pants.

“How many days have you been here?” You shook your head. Your mind, though blurred with pleasure, served just as well to remind you that you were not to divulge anything to the enemy. To this, the Earl only shook his head. He leaned forward, gave your pussy a single lick, and withdrew his tongue once again. You gasped, your hips bucking to meet the organ. “Was it one?” You bit your bottom lip yet again.

Tyki’s eyes were focused on your face, searching for any hints. “No.” The Earl nodded, leaned forward, and thrust his tongue into you deeply. You threw your head back, moaning, the sound muffled by your closed mouth. A whimper then escaped you—the Earl had pulled away. “Not quite,” Tyki commented. Again did the tongue assault you, that time trailing from your lower belly into your folds. You shook your head, and the Earl repeated the action in reverse.

“Oh God, yes!” You hated yourself for saying it, despised the fact that the Noah were laughing at you.

“Four days,” they said in unison. The Earl looked up at your face from his position between your legs. “Is that right? Four days?” You could not meet his gaze. “Or was it more? I could keep going.” You felt yourself growing wetter with his words. His mouth returned to your pussy, and he began suckling. You could no longer hold back the moans; a single finger had joined the Earl’s tongue—Tyki’s finger. The Noah of Pleasure knelt beside the other male, both intent on driving you over the edge it seemed.

Simultaneously, they pulled out. “It was four, right?” Tyki asked you. Before your mind, so filled and blinded by pleasure, could function correctly, you found yourself nodding. Then you stiffened, realizing what you had done. You bowed your head in shame, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “Don’t cry~” Tyki and the Earl spread your legs apart as far as they could go while bound. You winced slightly at the pain this caused you, and stared at the two men through watery eyes. “We’ll make you feel better~”

Your jaw dropped, and you could not even fathom what to think when the two Noahs’ tongues met—they failed to kiss one another fully, instead opting to not only rub their organs along one another’s, but also inside of your wet pussy. You gasped, swallowed, and fought for breath at the sensation of the two tongues battling for dominance against one another while still buried in your folds. Tyki’s was the first to retreat, and he blew lightly against your entrance, which was still being fucked by the Earl’s tongue. The Earl then moved away, having felt your walls tighten around his organ in a sure sign you were close to orgasm.

“Doesn’t this feel nice? The three of us sinning together.” Tyki chuckled off to the side, running a hand through his hair to push back his bangs. The Earl made light, small circles on your ankle as he spoke.

Swallowing the saliva gathered in your mouth to keep yourself from drooling, you forced yourself to take a single, shaky breath. You were doing all that you could to calm yourself, to bring your body under your mind’s command. Regaining most of your normal composure, you were able to once more glare at the Millennium Earl and Tyki Mikk with pure defiance in your eyes. Seeing the challenge this posed for gaining future information from you, the Earl grinned widely. You barely managed to fight off the shudder that threatened to run down your entire frame. This was a battle of wills, and you refused to allow yourself to be defeated, especially by the likes of the two present Noah.

The Earl stood before you and then walked behind your back. You felt his fingers dancing along your wrists, tapping against the chains that bound you. You turned your head to see what he was doing, however your attention returned immediately to Tyki when he raised himself as well. His dick stood painfully erect before you, and you eyed the organ warily while listening to the Earl’s next question.

“Did you recognize anyone to be Noah here?”

Inhaling deeply, you allowed your eyelids to drift close and outright refused to answer the question. To this, the Earl only gripped the chain one your wrists, tugging lightly so where the metal bit into your flesh. Used to this sort of pain from your training, you made no noise of complaint. Your heartbeat was beginning to return to its normal rate as well, your body completely unperturbed by the metal slicing through several layers of skin. The Earl shifted to where his mouth was directly beside your ear. Again did your heartbeat increase its rhythm; the feeling of his breath on your ear reminded you of the sensation below, of how skilled his tongue had been. You clenched your hands into fists and fought for control over yourself, almost winning when he asked:

“They water-board you as part of your training, correct?” You stiffened slightly. It was true that you were no stranger to being water boarded, however that in no way indicated that you enjoyed it. You twisted your torso a fraction of an inch to look up at his face. The Earl peered down at you, his expression one of pure indifference. “Does drowning scare you?” You blinked once. “What about choking—did they shove anything into your mouth, hmm?” Your eyebrows furrowed, and the Earl smiled in self-congratulations.

He moved to where he stood in front of you and motioned to Tyki. The Noah of Pleasure took up the position the Earl had previously held, his hands then seizing the restraints. You tensed your legs upon feeling your hands pulled back, and you knew full well the moment he used his power to push your hands and the chains past the back of the chair.

“Do you know what we’re doing?” You were too absorbed in what Tyki was doing to make note of who asked the question. The Noah of Pleasure released your hands, once more returning to the Earl’s side. The two men shared a look prior to the Millennium Earl grabbing you by the shoulder and literally tossing you onto the ground. He caught the chair before it was able to follow suit and collapse onto you. You winced as your shoulder then face smacked into the floor. A small whimper escaped from you, however you fought back any other noises.

You groaned as the Earl rolled you onto your back then sat on the chair, staring down at you. He placed his feet on your legs, which were twisted slightly due to the position you were currently in. You shifted, attempting to alleviate some of the strain, and were stopped by both the restraints around your ankles, and the Earl pressed down on you. He asked again if you knew what was going on, and that time you shook your head.

The Earl nodded, his eyes drifted towards Tyki, who recognized the signal immediately. The Noah of Pleasure straddled your chest, the tip of his erection touching your lips. Catching onto what they were planning, you swung your head to face the far wall. Your eyes were widened in horror, your heart beating loudly and quickly in your chest. You were certain Tyki was able to feel your pulse.

“Don’t even think about biting,” Tyki said. He then looked skyward, rubbing his chin. “Not that you really could.” The Earl and Tyki laughed at your expense. At the same time, Tyki gripped you by the hair and forced you to face him. He shifted his hips forward, the head of his penis flush against your lips. You could smell his musk, could feel the precum dripping onto you. All you had to do was keep your mouth shut, you told yourself. That’s all you had to do. Tyki grinned down at you, his teeth and eyes reminding you of a monster—you trembled at the sight of the trademark Noah-grin. You remembered at that exact moment that it did not matter if you opened your mouth or not—his ability made you completely vulnerable even should you successfully keep your mouth shut.

But that was not what he wanted, and you realized this upon feeling the Earl’s foot stomp down hard on your ankle. You whimpered and gasped, feeling the bone break, and instantly regretted it as Tyki thrust his hips forward, his penis entering your mouth. He did not stop there; the Noah made certain that his dick hit the back of your throat, and you gagged around the organ. Tyki slowly withdrew then rolled his hips again. You felt tears forming in your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, as the sensation and thoughts of dying from asphyxiation clouded your mind. Above you, Tyki moaned. His fingers tangled themselves in your hair, and he forced your head to bob up and down his length while he fucked your mouth.

After thrusting into your throat several times, he withdrew from your mouth. Still seated on the seat behind Tyki and above you, the Earl repeated his previous question: Did you recognize anyone to be Noah here?

You, however, were busy coughing and gagging. Fighting to catch your breath, you sobbed. All the while, Tyki continued to run his hand through your hair, rocking his hips, ever ready to resume. It seemed to them that you took too long; you screamed around Tyki’s erection as it entered your mouth and once more hit against the back of your throat. The vibrations of your scream caused Tyki to groan loudly in pleasure. You attempted to jerk your head away from him, but were unable to due to the fact that Tyki still held captive your hair. He did, however, relent slightly; the Noah no longer pressed himself to where he hit your throat, but instead ran the head of his penis against your tongue. You tasted the precum, at the same time your nostrils were filled with the scent of his musk. For a second time, Tyki withdrew from your mouth without cumming. He stared down at you while, for a third time, the Earl asked the question.

“J…just…” More tears spilled down your cheeks; you did not want to betray the Order, but it did not count if the information was harmless, did it? No, you told yourself. It wasn’t betrayal if it didn’t hurt the Order. “…I only…I only recognized the ones…that the Order…” You swallowed hard, your throat sore. “Only the ones that the Order already knows of…”

The Earl nodded, but you barely saw the action past Tyki’s body. The patriarch of the Noah family shifted in his seat, his own pants becoming unbearably tight. In his next question, you heard his voice deepen, grow husky: “What Noah do the Order know about?”

Your legs were growing numb, and you attempted to move them to get the blood flowing once more. The Earl allowed this, and even aided you just a little by pushing against your shins. Your gaze flickered to Tyki, then darted to the Earl, and finally settled on the Noah of Pleasure’s face. He was staring down at you lovingly—it was all about lust, you well knew.

“I…I don’t know,” you said quickly, hoping this would satisfy the two. Tyki only sighed, gripped your head, and ignored your protests as he entered your mouth against. This time, his moan was loud. It echoed in your head as his hips rolled forward, the head of his dick sliding against the roof of your mouth. It tickled somewhat, and you shuddered in response. He moved, alternating between running the upperside of his shaft against the roof of your mouth, and the underside along your tongue. Your throat constricted the moment he ventured to move in that deeply. You hardly heard his hiss of ‘Oh, fuck yes’, your vision growing blurred from the lack of oxygen. You attempted several times to breathe through your nose, however were assaulted and overwhelmed by his scent.

His thrusting grew more frantic. You felt his hand hit against your chin, and your brow furrowed before you realized that he was cupping his sac while he continued to rape your mouth. You shut your eyes tightly, knowing what was coming—knowing that he was about to cum. You hoped and prayed that he would go ahead and thrust once more into the back of your throat so that you would not have to taste him. Those prayers remained unanswered; Tyki made certain his seed spilled on your tongue and filled your mouth. Upon pulling out, he slammed a hand over your lips, preventing you from spitting out the semen.

You swallowed several times, fought off the urge to gag, and sobbed pathetically when Tyki removed his hand. A handful of tears slipped down your cheeks; you were completely and utterly disgusted with yourself, were sure that you were going to Hell for what you had been forced to do—that’s what the Order had told you would happen. Tyki moved off your chest, and both Noah watched you cry. The younger Noah ran a thumb up and down your cheek in a semi-comforting manner. You could only shake your head in response.

“But…but I really…I really don’t know that,” you said, sobbing loudly and voice breaking several times during that short sentence. “I just…only ….the list…”

The Earl hummed in response; it was a bit late for him to be agreeing with you, to be accepting that answer, you thought. Tyki had already had his way with you.

Standing, the Noah patriarch took out a piece of paper from his pocket. You recognized it immediately as the list you had mentioned. If he already knew about the list….then why would they do that…? You sobbed yet again. He then knelt between your legs, reaching backwards and snapping the chains off with a brief summoning of dark power. You yanked your limbs away from him, curling in on yourself in an attempt to hide your lower half from his wandering eyes. Tyki watched with vague interest as the Earl seized your hips and pulled you into his lap. You cried into his chest, his hands crossed behind your back and unlocking the shackles on your wrists.

Your arms, sore and tender from the position they had been trapped in for so long, flopped lamely to your sides for a minute. Blood pulsed through your limbs in an aching speed that had you tensing and hissing in discomfort. At the same time, you were not oblivious to the Earl’s own growing discomfort, to the erection pressing against you from under his clothing. His hands were lecherous, venturing to touch and rub first your arms, then your hips, and finally your chest. He squeezed your breasts, causing you to gasp and attempt to retreat. Pulling away, you landed on your back against, only to have the Earl roll on top of you. One hand remained on your chest, pinching a nipple through your shirt and bra, and the other rested beside your face in order to prop himself up.

You grit your teeth together, shutting your eyes and gasping as he rolled the nipple between finger and thumb. His hips pressed into yours, his erection pressing tightly against your wet pussy. You whimpered beneath him, and felt tears running down your cheeks yet again. He began licking up the salty-water that fell from your eyes, his lips pressing gently against your eyelids after following the trail.

“Were you able to gather any new information on the Noah?” he asked, the hand abandoning your breast to trail between your two bodies—down, down, running over your abdomen, next your pelvic bone, and finally a knuckle slipping between your folds as he gripped the zipper of his pants. You heard him tug the metal down, and felt his hand move against you as he undid the button as well.

You opened your eyes and stared at him, horrorstruck as he pulled himself out of his pants. His hips shifted lightly, however he made no mood to penetrate you. “I….I…” He ran his tongue over his lips, and you stared, hypnotized by the pink organ. He slipped his hand back up your body, first cupping your thigh and slowly massaging up. You were growing wetter the higher he went, panting as his thumb hooked for just a moment into your pussy, massaging your clit prior to venturing higher. Subconsciously, you spread your legs further for the Earl and he rewarded you by pressing forward. Your body tensed upon feeling the head of the Earl’s erection brush against your lower lips. “Please…d-don’t.”

“Just answer the question,” he told you, although he obliged in the slightest by shifting to where his penis was not so snug against you.

“Y-y-yes.” You looked away from his face, staring instead at one of the bookcases in the room. This was getting to the point of betrayal, you told yourself. Anything further and you would be damned if you answered their questions. At the same time, you told yourself that you were damned if the Earl or Tyki had their way with you; premarital sex was immoral! You sniffled, chest heaving with yet another sob. “Just pl-please don’t.” You pulled your hips away from his, your hands moving to cover yourself. The Earl watched this with fascination, and Tyki also observed your actions with growing interest.

“You’ve already told the Order the information?” the Millennium Earl asked, placing both hands on either side of your head and moving to where he was on all fours over you. You sobbed in response to his interrogation. That was enough of an answer for him. “What information did you give to them?”

“I…I can’t…I can’t…” You felt as though you were suffocating; the feeling of weight on your chest, of air not able to get into your lungs was worse than when Tyki had fucked your mouth. Your throat was still sore from the abuse, and every ragged breath you took only made things worse. You gulped in a mouthful of air, fear clenching your heart as the Earl started to undo the buttons on his shirt. You shook your head, hands flying up to grab his, to stop his actions. He paused for only a moment as your fingers curled around his hand, and stared down at you. His erection throbbed painfully at the sight of you sputtering out nonsensical words, of you begging him to please wait. Then he resumed undressing himself, that time with more fervor, his eyes half-lidded with lust.

You pulled yourself out from underneath his body successfully just as he was shrugging his shirt off of his shoulders. However, you had completely forgotten about Tyki’s presence, and were startled when the second Noah’s arms wrapped around your waist to stop your escape. While the Earl finished pulling off his pants, and while you tried to tear yourself from Tyki’s grasp, the Noah of pleasure peeled your shirt from your body with his ability. You covered your chest, which was then covered only by your bra, and thus left yourself open to Tyki’s hands removing your pants and panties completely from your body.

Crossing your legs, you turned your body halfway away from the two men, trying to hide yourself. The Earl sighed in contentment at the sight, and Tyki made quick work of removing his own clothes. He used only one hand, the second squeezing between your thighs, two fingers rubbing against and then into your vagina. You gasped, yours hips initially jerked away from the contact before Tyki began curling and uncurling the digits. At that point, you could not stop your body from responding to the touch. It did not help either when the Noah of pleasure tugged you closer, your back against his torso, or when the Earl moved to where he had better access to you. His hands gripped you, forced your legs apart, and he thrust two more fingers into your depth. You released a small scream at the pain that flooded through your mind, unused to such stretching and pressure in the lower regions of your body.

“Stop! That hurts!”

“Oh~?” Tyki peered down at your pussy from over your shoulder, watching as his and the Earl’s fingers thrust in and out of you. A few drops of red and pink came out as he jerked his fingers away for a moment. “You really are a virgin.” The fingers returned, and you jumped at the intrusion, bouncing against Tyki, accidentally causing the fingers to thrust into you harder. The Noah of Pleasure kissed the top of your head, his lips and kisses trailing down the side of your face, until he arrived at your neck. He nibbled at your flesh, tongue flicking out and teasing.

You were starting to moan as the fingers wiggled and danced within you, as Tyki’s tongue lapped at your neck, as the Earl’s free hand squeezed and tormented your breasts. You threw your head back, sobbing and moaning at the same time. It was getting hard to breathe, it was getting—so fucking hot. You felt sweat running down your body as you moved your hips in time with the fingers. Tyki’s hand joined the Earl’s and started to play with your other breast. The Earl, likewise, moved forward and started to lick the other side of your neck. You felt several times their tongues meet as they licked every inch of your neck. Tyki’s erection pressed into your back and you gasped, your tongue lolling in your mouth.

The Earl withdrew his fingers first, running them along your body and trailing upwards until he was able to lick both your neck and your juices at the same time. He then shifted and ran his tongue down your body, over the line he had previously smeared on you. Your tears seemed to have dried up, and you could only manage a shaky breath and a weak sob as the Earl’s mouth engulfed you. He sucked at your wet pussy, his tongue running along Tyki’s fingers and your inner walls.

Tyki withdrew his fingers, caressing the Earl’s face for a moment before moving both hands to your hips. You watched the action, confused. “Duke, we’re still going to ask her, right?” Tyki asked, pressing closer to you. The Millennium Earl kissed back up your body until his face was above your head and he looked Tyki directly in the eyes. You looked up to watch the pair, your mind and body still coming down from the high that the two Noah had given to you. You leaned your head against Tyki’s shoulder, and continued to pant. The pair of men gazed down at you, watching you watch them.

“That’s correct.” Your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip as he moved to where his forehead rested against yours. “What information were you able to give the Order?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as you released your lip in order to say, “I’m not…not allowed…I won’t…”

The Earl seized your hips, his hands directly above Tyki’s. Both Noah forced your hips forward, and you scrambled against the feeling of the Earl’s erection against your entrance. He slammed his hips up, burying himself in you immediately. A scream ripped from your throat at the sudden intrusion. You jerked your body, attempting to remove yourself. The Earl, meanwhile, groaned loudly and whispered a multitude of words regarding how tight you felt.

“Oh, God!” you whimpered. “You…I’m…”

“Were you saving it for your husband~?” Tyki cooed, nuzzling you while dropping his hands from your hips to your ass. You stiffened as he began to knead your flesh, and you stared at the Earl, who had yet to move since he first entered you. “We’re very good at destroying innocence~” The two Noah laughed, and you shuddered.

“Are you going to answer the question?” the Earl asked, lifting his hips further into yours. You wiggled against him, unable to remove yourself from him as his hands held you in place. Tyki continued to massage your butt, his fingers running over your cheeks and seeking a different entrance. You tensed upon realizing what he was doing, your head whipping around to look at him. He smirked at you in response. “You have five seconds….four…” With wide eyes, you looked at the Earl. Tyki’s fingers wiggled into you, causing you to buck your hips. This resulted in your gasping and the Earl moaning lowly in his throat. “…three…”

“Wait, wait…”

“…two…” Tyki positioned himself, the tip of his erection pressing tightly against your anus. You opened your mouth then closed it. “…one…” Eyes impossibly wide and mouth hanging open as you prepared to beg once more for him to wait, you felt the wind get knocked out of you as Tyki thrust forward. A handful of screams tore from you, and once more you found yourself sobbing as your mind was filled with a searing pain.

“I hell need going stop trouble,” you said. The two men looked at your face, both blinking as you sputtered nonsense. The Earl was the first to laugh, and Tyki followed this by a chuckle. Both shifted their hips, attempting to establish a rhythm. You grit your teeth and hissed in pain.

Tyki looked at the Earl past your shoulder and suggested, “Maybe you should lay down?” The Millennium Earl obliged, shifting to where he was on his back and you were on top of him. Tyki moved forward at the same time, making sure he did not slip from your tightness. The new position did help to alleviate some of the pain you were experiencing.

You placed your hands on the Earl’s chest when you felt as though you were about to collapse from the slight discomfort that remained. The Earl and Tyki rotated their hips another time, and you shifted as a hint of pleasure washed over your body. Not again, I can’t be enjoying this—not again, you screamed at yourself in your mind. All the same, you could not prevent the ‘mmm’ from escaping you. You ran your tongue over your lips, the room suddenly feeling hot beyond all reason. You felt the heat start to center around your belly before it shifted lower.

The first time you rocked your hips in time with Tyki and the Earl’s thrusting, your mind hardly registered it. The second time, you cursed yourself. On the third occasion, however, you were growing so hot that you hardly cared. The phrase ‘I’m going to hell’ repeated itself in your mind over and over, and still you continued to ride the two Noah. You ran your hands up and down the Earl’s bare chest, trailing your fingers by the tips only down the Earl’s abs. They shuddered under your touch, and the Earl gave an appreciative moan, jerking his hips into you. You rolled your hips against his in return, making sure to wiggle against Tyki, who started suckling at your neck in response.

Suddenly the two paused, and it was you alone who was riding the pair. They both fought the urge to resume, seeing how eager you were growing. Tyki and the Earl steadied your hips with firm grips. You stared down at the Earl questioningly, mind in a boggle from the pleasure you were receiving. Your teeth started to saw through your bottom lip—it was so hot in the room! There was so much pressure in the lower half of your body, pressure that demanded you move against the dicks that were buried within you.

“What information did you tell the Order?” the Earl asked. You groaned in response, your hands shoving against the limbs that were holding you in place. Below you, the Earl rotated his hips a second before Tyki also swiveled himself. You moaned as a result, eyelids fluttering closed. “Did it involve our abilities?” This time, Tyki thrust forward, forcing the Earl deeper into you.

“Oh…mmm…” You were breathing unevenly, your hands running along your own body. One hand cupped a single breast. You pinched and rolled a single nipple, kneading the breast as your other hand wormed its way to way you were able to thrust a single finger into yourself. You moved it up and down the Earl’s shaft before focusing on pleasuring yourself.

Tyki pulled out of you right before the Earl flipped you onto your back, his hips withdrawing until his dick left you with a slick sound. Then he slammed himself forward, reentering you. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, bucking your hips into his. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he started to fuck you from his kneeling position. You removed your finger from yourself and grasped at the Earl’s balls, rolling them and touching them. All too soon, the Earl reached behind himself, unhooked your legs, and pulled out; you cursed as he regained control of the situation.

“That’s a pretty strong aphrodisiac you put in her drink,” you heard Tyki say as your focus swam. “How much did you give her anyway?”

You were unable to hear the Earl’s response. You had once more buried your finger into yourself, adding a second as you started to scissor yourself. The two Noah watched you for a minute as you brought yourself to the pique of pleasure—and then the Earl seized your hands , securing them behind your back. He forced you backwards into his lap. You wiggled against him, trying to position yourself over his erection before noticing that Tyki had moved in front of you.

“I shouldn’t have given her that much,” the Earl muttered as you spread your legs for Tyki. The two Noah smirked; you threw your head back as Tyki entered you. Your hips were immediately moving against his, your legs wrapped around the man in order to force him closer, deeper. You were panting heavily by then. Tyki chuckled, moving in and out of you with skill. “Hmm.”

The Earl pushed you into Tyki’s arms, releasing your hands. You grasped the Noah of Pleasure’s shoulders, still riding him even as the Earl thrust into your anus. You groaned out an ‘oh yes’ and shifted to where you could enjoy them both in full.

Tyki’s hands were on your thighs, and the Earl’s on your chest. You had your legs wrapped around Tyki’s torso and arms draped behind you around the Earl’s neck. You pulled him closer, pressing your lips against his in such haste that your teeth collided. The Earl growled in response, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. Simultaneously, Tyki started to nibble once again at your neck. Your lips left the Earl’s and you seized Tyki’s, your tongue running along his. Not allowing you much of a chance to get away, the Earl leaned further into you, his mouth joining. The three of your tongues fought for dominance, slipping on occasion into someone’s mouth, although you were never quite sure whose.

For a second time, both men pulled away and out of you. You whimpered; they had grabbed your limbs and stretched you out to keep you from pleasuring yourself.

“Did it have anything to do with…” The Earl paused, breathing heavily. “Did the information regard the Noah’s abilities?”

“Oh fuck…” You could feel that you were so close to cumming. Your body was screaming for the two men to enter you, while your mind battled with the effects of the aphrodisiac and the knowledge that you should not reveal anything to the two men. You swallowed hard, eyes wandering over Tyki and the Earl’s naked bodies. The sight of their erections alone was about enough to make you cum. “It was…how…the looks…”

The Millennium Earl whipped you onto his lap, where you immediately wrapped your legs securely in place; while he thrust inside, you pushed yourself onto him. The Earl reached past you, gripping Tyki’s hips and forcing the Noah of Pleasure against you. Tyki obliged without complaint, moving to where he was able to reenter you. He gripped your hair and harshly yanked your head back, literally shoving his tongue towards the back of your throat. You whimpered then moaned in response, moving your hips in time with theirs.

Your hands were running up and down the Earl’s chest, until you found his abs again. Releasing your hair, Tyki reached in front of you, his hands gripping harshly at your chest. You shuddered in slight pain and noticed that his rhythm was increasing, that he was getting close. You continued to kiss him, your hands seizing the Earl’s wrists and bringing them to your chest as well. The Earl groaned lowly, leaving one hand on your right breast while the other grabbed you by the back of your neck. He jerked you forward and claimed your mouth. You felt yourself tighten around him as he thrust his tongue in and out of your mouth, mimicking what was going on below. You came for a second time, and this caused the Earl to cum only a few seconds following. Tyki continued to thrust into you even after the Earl pulled out.

He then paused, realizing what had happened, and forced you onto all fours while pulling out. He positioned himself at the entrance of your vagina and then thrust forward. He had one hand on your back, keeping you in place while he fucked you as though you were an animal. Not that you minded in the least at that point—you were rocking your hips back into his.

You reached forward with a single hand, gripping the Earl’s shaft as it softened, and leaned until you were able to lap up the semen and juices that had stuck to him.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” you heard Tyki say. He pulled all the way out and then thrust forward, forcing your face further into the Earl’s lap. A moment later, Tyki came with a loud groan. He continued to thrust into you until his shaft had fully softened.

At that point, you were so hot once more that you rolled onto your back and, not caring who was watching, started to fuck yourself with your fingers. Tyki licked his lips, an action that the Earl mimicked. Both of them spread your legs and buried their tongues within your depths. “Oh, fuck yes,” you hissed jerked your hips into their faces. Tyki licked a trail from your pussy up to your neck then back down again, while the Earl forced your finger away and started to roll your clit between his teeth. When you felt Tyki slip his tongue into you again, you moaned. You felt your walls tighten around their tongues, almost sobbed in pure ecstasy as they continued lapping at you even as you came. You were left gasping for air when they moved away from you. Tyki wiped his chin with an arm, all the while licking his lips.

“Still can’t believe the Order was dumb enough to send a girl~” You blinked at him, your mind not fully registering what the Noah was saying.

The Earl took a deep breath, stared down at you, and made a noise of agreement; in the back of his mind, he wondered if the Order had expected this, but then dismissed the thought immediately upon reflecting on all the information he was able to gain from you. He then pushed himself into a standing position and crossed the room, where he retrieved a cup of water. The Millennium Earl sat beside you, helped you into his lap, and pressed the rim of the cup against your mouth. You greedily started to drink the water, whimpering as he would pull the glass away then replace it. He seemed to be purposely spilling some of the water on your chest.

Again he took the cup away from you. That time he did not give it back, instead taking a sip himself. You reached for it, but were unable to retrieve it as Tyki took the water and sucked down what little remained.

“Do we kill her?” the Noah of Pleasure asked, rubbing a hand down your back. He stroked you as though you were a house pet. You stiffened at his question, looking between him and the Earl. “She might tell the Order what you look like.”

The Earl brushed back some of your hair. “I’m not worried about that.” He captured your bottom lip between his teeth, caressing the area of flesh with his tongue. He released you, looking at Tyki. The Earl then shifted his gaze to you. “I wonder—what is the Order going to do to once they find out everything?” You shuddered at the thought; even if they did not put you to death for your acts of heresy, you were certain you would not be welcome amongst your comrades. “I suppose we’ll just have to return her.” You did not like the way he grinned as he said that. Your mind screamed as he once more moved atop you, as your body, under the influences of the aphrodisiac, responded to his sinful, lecherous hands.

*****

You crossed your arms over your chest as you stared at your superiors. The way quite a few of them were eyeballing you left a wave of chills running through you; quite a few of them were leering at you in the same manner both the Earl and Tyki had. This fact alone made you wish that you had been able to leave out the information regarding your debauchery, however the Order had made it clear that they would tolerate no editing or omitting to your tale. There was a mutual agreement amongst your superiors that your body would need to be cleansed; at that, you shuddered. All the while, they admitted that they were thoroughly pleased with the information you had provided—especially that regarding the Millennium Earl’s human appearance. Really, he shouldn’t have allowed you to live.

#tyki mikk x reader #millennium earl x reader #d.gray-man fanfic #dgm fanfic #tyki smut #millennium earl smut #propane nightmares

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shinydelirium · 3 years

Text

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 21 (Kiro) Part 3 [Taking a Risk] & [Little Star] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For previous translations of chapter 21: Part 1/ Part 2

[Taking A Risk]

Warm light reflects off the vintage crystal chandelier, casting fine shadows on the wall.

I returned to my room the next day. The service of storing Evol seemed to require a special number to be called.

I looked at the introduction in the hotel guide and dialed the number written on it.

Waiter: Hello, what can I do for you?

MC: Ahem, hello, I want to enjoy the service of storing Evol. How do I do it?

Waiter: What is your Evol type?

MC: ….My Evol deals with memory.

Waiter: Okay, the information has been registered for you.

Waiter: Please wait in the room for a moment. We will send a dedicated service staff to serve you.

I put down the phone and looked at Helios standing to the side with a worried look.

Helios: Now, we wait.

However, a few hours passed and there was still no sign of movement.

I leaned on the soft pillow a little nervously, looked towards the cabinet opposite me, and spoke quietly.

MC: …Helios, are you asleep?

After a while, a questioning sound came from the cabinet.

Helios: I’m asleep.

Hearing what he said, I couldn’t help but smile.

MC: Then Mr. Sleep Talker, shouldn’t you open the cabinet door a little bit to let some air out?

MC: Besides, this room has been checked and there’s no monitor, so you don’t have to hide so soon.

The air fell silent again and soon the cabinet door creaked to reveal a gap.

The light outside the door instantly spilled in, making those azure blue eyes clearer.

I lowered my head and looked at the closet. The space inside was really small. He could only sit down on the wooden board with his legs bent and his knees pressed to his chest.

Such a well-behaved sitting position matched with that expression.

I snickered in my heart and rested my head on my hand.

MC: After we leave this place, shall we go on a walk together and bask in the sun?

Helios: ….

The cabinet door became quiet again and occasionally I could hear shallow breathing.

I was about to change the subject when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Almost instantly, the faint beam of light from the cabinet door disappeared once more.

??: Dear guest, the service you requested has been processed.

??: If you’re ready, please press the button inside the handle.

MC: Okay.

I walked past the closet and knocked lightly with my fingertips. I went to the door and bent down.

With his reminder, I noticed that there was an extremely tiny button on the deep side of the handle.

MC: …This is too secretive.

The moment the button was pressed, the side wall suddenly pushed back and slowly pulled away to the left.

A waiter stood behind the hidden door and politely bowed.

Waiter: Pardon me.

MC: …Don’t you think this is a bit scary?

Waiter: In order to ensure the privacy of each guest, I am sorry that it has brought you a bad experience. We will make better improvements next time.

MC: …..

Waiter: Please follow me.

I walked into the secret door with no expression on my face. Then, I turned a corner into a deep corridor and I secretly felt that it was no wonder that Helios couldn’t find it.

This is too well hidden.

We walked into the elevator and the waiter pressed the only button on the panel.

The elevator shook slightly. The waiter frowned and looked up.

I vaguely guessed the reason for the elevator shaking so I spoke up. ***Is Helios gonna take a ride on top of the elevator??? So badass!!!***

MC: What’s the matter?

Waiter: Ah, I’m apologize for making you feel anxious.

Waiter: This elevator doesn’t normally shake.

MC: Probably your imagination? This elevator feels very stable to me. ***MC is getting better at her acting skills 😆***

The waiter nodded and faced the elevator door again.

The ride took longer than expected and it took about a minute before the elevator slowly came to a stop.

After we walked another long corridor, we finally stopped in front of a wooden door. The waiter knocked gently on the door before pushing it away, turned around and made an inviting gesture with his hand to me.

I walked in and found that it was just an extremely normal room. There was nothing around that indicated a device to store Evol.

At the table in the middle of the room was a man who looked seventy or eighty years old, and behind him stood a very burly man.

The elderly man was very old. His thick eyelids were pulled down low, almost covering both eyes.

He raised his eyes laboriously, reached out his fingers and tapped on the table, motioning me to sit down.

I sat in front of the old man. My other hand quietly touched the anesthesia gun at my waist.

Old man: Extend your hand.

MC: Before I do that, can you tell me the process of how Evol is stored first?

MC: Even though I requested the service, I also have the right to ask how it works.

The old man didn’t speak as if he was about to fall asleep.

Man: Guest, your hand is part of the process.

The man behind him replied in a low voice and walked to my side with a sense of unspeakable oppression.

MC: …

Man: Guest, is there a problem?

??: The problem is you.

An intense silver light appeared behind the man like a ghost and the chilling light made those blue eyes look even colder.

Almost instantaneously, his question was interrupted by the sound of broken bones in the air.

The swift figure resembled a crescent silver moon, leaving traces like a shadow.

The man was unresponsive as if he didn’t care about his slightly twisted arm. A silver pillar made iron steel condensed in the palm of his hand and he swung it at Helios.

Helios pulled out two handles from behind his waist. The knife blades clashed against the silver pillar, making a harsh rubbing sound.

At the same time, I immediately grabbed the stiff and somewhat lethargic old man and hid off to the side.

This old man is definitely a certain key and we can’t let him get injured here.

I can’t help much at this time but at least I won’t hinder Helios.

A look of surprise flashed in the man’s eyes. After thinking for a bit, he waved his hand and countless small, silver needles appeared in the air, shooting them straight at Helios.

Only the silver light is no longer there.

In the moment of confusion, Helios had already appeared behind him. The cold knife reflecting the man’s terrified eyes.

Helios: Fool.

There was not even a scream but a faint voice came.

Helios held the dagger and walked towards the old man with a blank face, covering most of the light in the room, looking at him condescendingly.

Helios: I don’t have time for nonsense.

Helios: Who are you?

[Little Star]

The old man shivered at the figure shining in the cold light, breathless with fear.

Old man: Don’t kill me. I, I was threatened….

He opened his mouth blankly, ready to say something.

All of a sudden, the air around him instantly became distorted, gradually swallowing his body and began to dissipate like a bubble.

In the middle of disappearing, the old man tried hard to hold onto Helios’ hand.

But it only passed through his body.

Old man: Please, you….must help me….

In the silent room, there was only a trembling echo, as if the old man was never there.

I stared blankly at what was happening, a bit in disbelief.

MC: Helios, he’s…

Helios: Leave here first.

As he said that, he stretched out his hand to pull me.

Suddenly, the floor under our feet began to shake, and an inexplicable sense of dizziness filled my entire brain which caused me to lean back.

Helios: MC!

A black line ran across us suddenly like a crack. I stretched out my hand and in my peripheral vision, I saw Helios preparing to jump—

In the next second, the entire space seemed to rotate violently and the huge inertia forced me to slam into the wall on my right.

The scenery in front of me is like a pop-up book that has been quickly flipped through, continuously changing and becoming blurry.

I curled up in pain. The heavy pain constantly eroding my willpower.

MC: Helios…

I feel like I lost consciousness.

Under the night sky, in the center of the fountain with exquisite patterns, water gushed out of the nozzle from the statue.

A man was sitting on a recliner by the fountain, looking at a Rubik’s Cube suspended diagonally in the air.

He raised his head, staring alertly at the old man sitting on the ground.

??: You’re really going to cause trouble for me.

While he said this, the man’s eyes flashed with excitement and madness, his fingers shaking.

The Rubik’s Cube began to flicker with strange lights and flipped over.

??: But I also see that he’s been quite the eyesore for a long time. I can finally crush him now, right?

Helios: ….

Helios: ….MC.

Helios: Kilo, display location.

Amongst the chaos, I vaguely heard an extremely anxious and nervous voice reach my ears.

Helios: Damn it.

Helios: MC!! Can you hear me?!

I opened my eyes slowly and my body felt like it was falling apart. I wanted to lift my right arm to prop myself up, but immediately felt the sharp pain.

The scene in front me seemed to be split with half of it that was the room I was previously in and the other half a dense bamboo forest.

MC: ….I can hear you.

As soon as I made a sound, the rapid breathing in my ear seemed to stop for a moment.

Helios: Are you hurt anywhere?

I smiled bitterly, pulled myself and sat in a corner, trying hard to stand up.

MC: It seems that I hit arm when I crashed into the wall.

Although it was very painful that I wanted to cry, I managed to make my voice not sound so weak.

Helios: …Does it hurt?

His voice was very soft, with some far-off and familiar tenderness in it, making my nose tingle instantly.

For a while, I was a little confused, either from the intense pain or the softness that I hadn’t heard for a long time.

***If you choose the top answer: “It hurts”***

MC: ….It hurts.

MC: *sniffles*….It really hurts.

I couldn’t hold back the emotions surging in my heart and the grievances I had suppressed also came pouring out.

Helios: …Don’t cry.

I rarely heard his voice sound so flustered. It sounds just like the bewildered boy in my memory.

***If you choose the bottom answer: “It doesn’t hurt”***

MC: I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt at all.

I was full of vigor and laughed, holding my arm. Gritting my teeth, tears came from my eyes unconsciously.

MC: What about you? Are you okay...?

Helios: MC.

On the other side of the line, Helios interrupted me smoothly.

Helios: The sound of your tears falling on the ground is loud.

I blinked, pressed my mouth, and vigorously wiped the tears with the back of my hand.

MC: How can that be...

A soft laugh came to my ears, like a feather, warming my heart.

Helios: I will be by your side soon so don’t cry.

MC: Then sing to me and I’ll stop.

Helios: ….

As soon as I spoke, I heard the sound of heavy objects rolling along the ground.

The sound of the wind kept passing by and Helios seemed to be running quickly, with a slight gasp from time to time.

My heart lurched suddenly and I felt a bad premonition rise up.

MC: What happened to you…..? Are you in some dangerous space again?

After a moment of silence, Helios replied with an answer that was completely irrelevant to my question.

Helios: What do want to hear me sing?

I was stunned. The whistling sound in my ear continued.

MC: It doesn’t matter. You must ensure your safety first!

Helios: How about “Little Star” (aka “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)?

MC: ….

The sound of the heavy objects rolling was getting closer and closer in my ears as if they wanted to run him over.

In the huge roar, a leisurely singing voice rang in my ears.

Helios: Twinkle twinkle, little star….

Helios: How I wonder what you are.

Those loud noises seemed to be shielded by a transparent film and only his faint singing voice remained in the whole world.

Gentle and firm.

His singing was mixed with rapid breaths and at this moment, it was like a soft embrace that enveloped me in it.

When the last melody descended softly, the chilling sound of a dagger being thrown ended the roar altogether and the world fell silent.

Helios: Don’t cry anymore.

His uncertain questions made me rub my eyes dumbfoundedly.

MC: Amazing, it doesn’t hurt anymore.

A soft laugh came from my ear and I seemed to be able to imagine his helpless smile.

MC: Helios, where do I go?

Helios: You’re injured so stay where you are.

MC: My hand is fine! Although I still don’t understand the operating structure of this space….

MC: But if we both head in the same direction, it will definitely be quicker!

Helios: ….

MC: Let’s go together.

I straightened up, looked at the door I front of me and said firmly to him.

The silent sound of running and the “whoosh” of a knife blade rushed into my ears. I quietly waited for his response.

Helios: Alright.

Helios: Let’s do it.

He let out a long sigh of relief, without saying a word, as if looking for our next route.

Helios: Open the door behind you.

Helios: Walk slowly.

MC: Roger!

I held out my arm and opened the door without hesitation in accordance with his instructions and strode inside.

I looked around and found myself standing on the stairs of an abandoned building. His voice immediately came to my ears.

Helios: Go up and push open the door on the top floor.

I turned and moved precisely according to his directions.

Obviously we are far apart from each other, but he knows where I am at this moment. It felt like he was right beside me.

I opened the door and was greeted by the bright sun shining in my eyes.

Taking a look, I found myself standing on the roof of a bell tower.

Helios: Grab hold of something. The Rubik’s Cube is about to turn.

I reacted instinctively and immediately grabbed a heavy rope after hearing his words.

Right afterwards, the familiar feeling of inversion came and I closed my eyes and held onto the rope tightly, waiting for the rotation to stop.

Soon the world returned back to normal. I opened my eyes and found that the scene in front of me hadn’t changed much.

***THIS IS SO INSANE AND I LOVE IT!!!***

Helios: Is your arm okay?

MC: No worries!

He was quiet for a while as if deciding on something.

Helios: MC, jump down.

I couldn’t help being startled, moving my feet and looking down.

The bell tower extends into the clouds. Thick clouds hang in the air and the howling wind beats against me, constantly reminding me of how high the bell tower is.

Breathing deeply, I climbed to the edge of the clock tower.

Helios: You can also wait for me to come see you.

He seemed to guess what I was thinking and his tone was softer than before.

MC: It’s no good if only one person is doing all the running.

After speaking, I took a deep breath and jumped.

The light, shadow and wind rushed past my ears, but I didn’t have the slightest timidness in my heart.

Because I know that this can get me a little bit closer to him. ***YES!!! THAT’S MY GIRL!!! GO TO YOUR MAN!!!😭😭😭 KIRO AND MC RUNNING TOWARDS EACH OTHER HENCE THE REASON WHY THE KARMA IS CALLED “RUN TO YOU” 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕

As I continued to fall, the space on the ground became distorted again until finally forming a door.

On the other end of the gate is a net woven with countless colorful soft bands which safely stopped my fall.

I steadied my heartbeat and looked up to find that this was a trampoline.

Sponges of different shapes were staggered and stacked and there was a door on the diving platform directly above.

MC: Helios, there’s a door on the platform not far away. Should I go there?

Helios: MC, go…

His voice became sporadic until a harsh electric static rang out and then nothing.

MC: Helios….?

I called his name but I didn’t hear any response.

MC: Did the communication get interrupted?

I looked at the door in the distance, thinking about what Helios didn’t finish saying.

Does he want me to go there? Or does he want me to choose another door?

I pursed my mouth, looked around, and found that there were several identical doors in the distance.

I hesitated and finally my eyes came back to the door on the diving platform.

Inexplicable intuition told me that he wanted me to go through this door.

MC: Take a gamble.

I stood up, climbed onto the platform, and grabbed the upper door handle—

Then, I was met by an endless stream of cars whizzing past me.

[End of Part 3]

This chapter is crazy!!! So much excitement, action, and sweet moments between Kiro and MC!!! My heart!!!🥺💕

#spoilers #mlqc #mlqc spoilers #translations #mlqc translations #mlqc season 2 translations #mlqc season 2 #kiro #kiro spoilers #kiro season 2 #helios #helios spoilers #helios season 2 #love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mr love dream date #mldd

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