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tendouluvr · 3 years

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not telling them you’re pregnant - f!reader

- fluff, sliiiight angst maybe

- characters: suna, sakusa, semi

- warnings: pregnancy (i don’t go into detail of giving birth or anything), cravings, morning sickness aka throwing up, two mention of the act of sex in semi’s, some cursing

- wc: 1.4k, 888, 946

a/n: it’s f!reader cuz pregnancy but there’s no specific pronouns/gendered terms used

also idk how suna got so long, he was the last one i wrote for bc i couldnt think of anything lmao

[2. iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama]

SUNA

#! suna has been practicing late into the night the past few weeks

#! there’s a big game coming up and the entire team is feeling the pressure and adrenaline from the crunch time

#! you haven’t been feeling too good lately, a lot heavier and more tired than usual

#! thinking it was just stress from work and the missing presence of your boyfriend, you pushed through it and thought it would go away in the next few days

#! unfortunately, luck wasn’t on your side and you started to get sudden needs to throw up

#! it didn’t take you long to realize why your physical and mental drive have been down lately

#! you’re pregnant

#! or you believe you are

#! you bought a few tests, some of different brands so you can have a variety, and headed home to confirm your suspicion

#! a few minutes later, staring back at you was multiple positive symbols and the bolded ‘PREGNANT’s

#! taking a few deep breaths, you decided to tell suna tonight once he comes home

#! you thought it was better to let him know as soon as possible

#! it wouldn’t hurt anyone plus the faster you rip the bandaid off, the easier it’ll be to deal with it

#! so you waited

#! and waited

#! until 11pm that night, when suna finally came through the front door

#! “tarō! how was practice? can we talk?” you hurriedly greeted him

#! he was taken aback, not expecting you to be right beside him and in his ear as soon as he came in

#! of course you weren’t, you made sure to put some space in between you and him

#! but suna was stressed and tired, so everything is intensified to him at the moment

#! “can you back up?” he mumbled, pushing his way from in front of you to walk to the kitchen

#! “oh, sorry. can we talk?” you sheepishly smiled, hoping he would say yes

#! you’re not blind, you can tell that suna was tired but you really didn’t wanna put this off

#! you were just gonna tell him, he gets surprised, you both talk it out, and then go to bed and continue figuring things out tomorrow morning

#! but before any of that can happen, suna bluntly told you, “no. i’m tired. i’m sure whatever it is isn’t a big deal. can it be tomorrow? i wanna sleep.”

#! you didn’t get to answer before he was already walking away to the bedroom

#! understanding where he was coming from, you mentally agreed to talk to him tomorrow. one day wouldn’t change anything and you’ve seen plenty of people not tell their partners until a few weeks in

#! he was right, it wasn’t a big deal (yet)

#! so you waited until tomorrow

#! and waited

#! and once again, he came home late

#! “hey! can we quickly talk, babe?”

#! “i’m tired. tomorrow, okay?”

#! “oh, okay. night, rin!”

#! “g’night.”

#! night came and there was still no talk

#! this continued on for about 2 weeks, you finally choosing to not care anymore and just let him find out whenever he finds out

#! technically, you could’ve just blurted out a simple, “i’m pregnant.” any point during your nightly five seconds conversations

#! but seeing that he really was tired, springing it onto him would either put him in a full body shock for three days or he just doesn’t fully process your words until three days after

#! a month has passed, your stomach was still barely showing like most women at their one month mark

#! you decided to book an appointment for a checkup, it’ll be while suna’s at practice

#! and that doctor appointment was the exact reason suna found out

#! he was at practice when komori entered the gym

#! he had a doctor’s appointment for his annual checkup, and that’s where he saw you

#! you didn’t see komori, busy reading the directory to find your way to the right office

#! but he saw you on the way out. seeing that you looked a bit busy, he chose not to greet you and just quickly walk to his car lmao why is this funny to me

#! entering the gym, he greeted everyone and apologized for his tardiness even though it was excused

#! walking up to suna, he tapped him on the shoulder and quietly told him, “i saw yn at the hospital earlier. it’s been awhile since we all got together huh, they looked a bit different.”

#! ok so komori, being the smart person he is, deducted that you were pregnant when he saw your finger pointing at the ob/gyn office

#! and he genuinely thought suna knew so his comment was suppose to be a small joke that was meant to tease suna and his sex life

#! suna, however, was confused

#! look different? did you get surgery?

#! “what do you mean?”

#! komori rolled his eyes and gave a sweet smile at suna, “congrats you two! when were you gonna tell the rest of us?”

#! suna: 👨‍🦲 huh

#! “are you guys not pregnant?” he blinked at suna’s frozen reaction

#! suna became unresponsive so komori just walked away mumbling to himself about being sure he read the sign right

#! a loud whistle blew and it shook suna out of his daze, everyone got ready to play a practice game of 3 vs 3 while suna ran over to the coach

#! “hey coach, um i think there’s an emergency at home. can i go? ok thanks.”

#! his coach just stares after him as he sprints off, you think? is there an emergency or not?

#! suna quickly drove home, he may or may not have speed a little, and entered the apartment

#! “yn? baby?” he called out only to be greeted back with silence

#! probably still at the hospital....what were you doing there? he thought to himself while rummaging around the house to find anything that could give him somewhat of an idea

#! he was digging around in the bedroom when you came home, his head so frenzied he didn’t hear the front door open

#! but you heard the ruckus from the bedroom and immediately went into fight or flight

#! panicking, you took out your phone to call suna while quietly opening the front door to make your way back out before the intruder catches you

#! the phone rang and rang until it was picked up. “suna?” you whisper-yelled into the speaker. you had a habit of calling him by his last name when you were freaking out. he noticed and was equally alarmed

#! “what’s wrong?” he whispered back just as panicked

#! “there’s someone in our apartment. can you come home?”

#! “huh? oh, are you home?” he cackles into the phone speaker making you move the phone away from your ear, “it’s me, sweets, c’mere.”

#! you warily walked on your tiptoes over to your bedroom, peeking your head in and what a surprise, it is suna

#! “jackass! why are you home?!”

#! “why didn’t you tell me?” he cut straight to the point

#! “huh?”

#! “you’re pregnant. when were you gonna tell me?” his voice sounding stern, but the quiet smile dancing on his face tells a different story

#! “i tried.”

#! “huh? what do you mean?”

#! “all those times i asked if we could talk. i was trying to tell you.”

#! his heart dropped, eyebrows furrowing, while he stared you down

#! suna became unresponsive once again, standing there trying to think back to the first time you asked him

#! two weeks ago

#! “i’m sorry,” he quietly whispers

#! “hm? i..it’s fine....i was a bit sad, but i’m over it. at least you know now,” you casually shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal

#! “no. i shouldn’t have pushed you aside like that. even if you weren’t pregnant, even if you had just wanted to tell me about some stupid video you saw that day, i shouldn’t have told you off. i’m sorry, i love you a lot and you deserve so much better.”

#! “tarō, shut up. i accept your apology and i forgive you, now make it up to me by giving me a back massage while i show you the ultrasound pictures!”

#! he kisses you before lifting you up bridal style making his way to the bed

SAKUSA

#! contrary to popular beliefs, sakusa is not an obsessive germaphobe who finds everything disgusting but you

#! he wouldn’t be playing volleyball if he was that afraid of germs,,,,,

#! yes, he cringes if random little kids grab onto him after games because 1) he’s drenched in sweat and that feeling is not fun

#! 2) he doesn’t even know themmm

#! and 3) he wanna go home

#! but sakusa loves you and if you happened to get pregnant, he would love your kid(s) just the same

#! however, he never told you this. he never really had a reason to voice this out loud

#! so when you actually did get pregnant, you were confused

#! the only interactions between sakusa and kids you’ve seen multiple times were the moments between him and his fans

#! you guys have been to family parties and his nieces, nephews, and cousins looooves him

#! maybe it’s the fact that he’s a tall looming giant and they just want to climb

#! but besides those moments, you don’t recall him ever telling you upfront that he wants children of his own

#! and the constant stress and pressure he always seem to be working around also doesn’t help reassure you in any way

#! being an athlete for a living means always watching your body, health, and looks for the cameras (but omi could care less about the last thing)

#! he also has to make sure whether or not he’s working well with his teammates, practice and improve on anything he’s having problems with, and deal with atsumu’s dramatic ass

#! you’re an overthinker and because of that, all of these reasons were just reasons for you to postpone the pregnancy news to your long term boyfriend

#! it wasn’t too hard anyway, considering practice runs late sometimes and he’s busy majority of the time doing other stuff

#! when you guys do have alone time together, you both are so focused on one another that you actually forget that you’re pregnant and you never told him

#! you’re about to hit the three months mark now — time goes by fast — and sakusa has noticed you and your body changing

#! at first he just thought you were going through a phase of cravings and a bit of bloating, so he didn’t mention it and just let you be

#! he never got to witness you getting morning sickness because he goes on early runs or he was just out doing morning errands so he wouldn’t have to deal with it later that day

#! so when he caught you in the kitchen cutting up a lemon, the last thing he was expecting you to do was bring the lemon directly up to your mouth

#! “uh, what are you doing?” his deep voice caught you off guard, effectively stopping the hand that was holding the lemon

#! you just stare at him, not wide-eyed, not surprised, just stare

#! “eating a lemon.”

#! “i can see that.... why exactly?”

#! “dunno, the baby i guess.” you casually shrugged it off before popping the lemon slice into your mouth

#! “ah-,” he opened his mouth to stop you from eating the lemon, your words not fully processing in his mind, but cut off midway and froze when he finally realized

#! hearing him pause like that made you suddenly remembered that you never told him you were pregnant

#! you slowly turned back to look at him, mouth still slowly chewing the lemon slices

#! a moment of silence later, he unfreezes and just starts stiffly walking towards you

#! he grabbed you by the shoulders, made you look him in the eyes, before whispering, “you’re pregnant?!”

#! “y-yes..”

#! his eyes were wide, black pupils expanding as he stared you down, his lips slowly curving into a small smile

#! “you’re pregnant....,” he whispers, mainly to himself, hugging your head into his chest

#! “mhm, get off me i’m trying to eat,” you gently pushed him off but he wouldn’t budge

#! “omiiii please, if you get off i’ll give you a slice,” you tried bribing him. he couldn’t tell if you were being serious or just teasing

#! “no.”

#! “um ok, two slices?”

#! “no.”

#! “omi!”

#! he giggles before opening his arms to let you go

#! “why didn’t you tell me?”

#! you didn’t reply right away, making him start to overthink

#! did you not want the baby? or did you not want a kid with him? did you not want to be with him anymore? or was it not his?!

#! he childishly shakes his head side to side at the last question. he knew you wouldn’t do that

#! but you were still silent, making him nervously glance at you from the side

#! “sorry, piece of lemon stuck in my teeth. i just forgot to tell you,” the words easily flowing out of your mouth nonchalantly

#! sakusa’s fingers were literally about to start twitching from anxiousness beside you

#! a sigh of relief was heard from him and you turned to look at him

#! “you okay?”

#! he doesn’t answer, just gives you a smile and goes back to hugging you from behind

SEMI

#! you were currently sitting on the couch in your shared apartment waiting for semi to come home

#! he’s been on tour for a few months now, you both kept in touch by facetiming, texting, calling, and any other methods of virtual communication

#! you would tune into the live recording of all of his performances when you had time so you could watch him

#! a few weeks into tour, you suddenly felt different than usual but shook it off as nothing and probably just you missing your boyfriend

#! you believed that until one morning you were woken up by the sudden urge to throw up, dashing to the restroom as fast as your drowsy body can go

#! it was then that you realized you might be pregnant

#! the night before semi left, you both had sex to enjoy your last few hours together before he had to leave for a few months

#! with the new realization, you quickly dressed yourself to make a short trip to the store to pick up some tests

#! after half an hour of looking at yourself in the mirror, trying to wrap your head around this, you finally opened the first box

#! a few minutes later, all 5 tests were lined up on the bathroom counter showing positive

#! you stared at the tests, trying to make sure you weren’t reading it wrong

#! once you began to understand the responsibility of being pregnant a few hours later, you made a mental note to go out and buy some food for yourself the next day

#! you decided to sleep off the rest of that day

#! through all of the facetime calls with semi, you never once told him you were pregnant

#! you knew that if you told him he would freak out and either demand to go back home, or stay but all of his attention would be on you being pregnant alone at home for the rest of the tour

#! so here you are now, sitting with a 4 1/2 months baby bump waiting for your beloved to come home

#! it was around 6pm when the front door opened, sounds of shuffling bags and heavy steps could be heard from the musician

#! he cursed under his breath when he almost tripped over a duffle bag with some of his loungewear, calling out for you as he walks further into the apartment, “baby? i’m home!”

#! he was about to speak up again when he saw you asleep on the couch

#! bouncing his way over, he got onto his knees at the edge of the couch to observe your face. god i miss you, he thought to himself

#! he gently shakes you awake, you jolted in surprise not knowing you fell asleep in the first place

#! “hmm- what?,” soft murmurs falling from your lips as you adjusted your eyes at your surrounding

#! “eita!” he grinned at you, both of you pulling each other into a hug

#! “fuck, i miss you so much.” he whispered into your ears before placing his face into your neck

#! “i miss you more.” you tightened your grip around him making him move up on the couch to get more comfortable

#! you both moved around until he had you cradled in between him, your back against his chest

#! his hands going under your his shirt to caress you there when his movements stopped right on top of your stomach

#! it was silent as his warm hands rubbed your stomach in circles, the gears turning in his head

#! “are you- you feel- why’s your tum so round and hard?” he quizzically asked, still rubbing your stomach

#! “pregnant.” your voice a low whisper, he almost didn’t catch it

#! “what?”

#! “pregnant.” you repeated, a bit louder this time

#! “huh?”

#! “pregnant!” you sighed, moving his hand so you can get off of him

#! he grabs your wrist to stop you from walking away and turns you to look at him

#! “you’re pregnant?!”

#! “i just said that. yes.”

#! you knew you sounded blunt and a bit mean, it wasn’t his fault he doesn’t know at all, but your hormones have been making you crankier and it’s out of your control

#! “sorry. yes, i’m pregnant.”

#! his eyes continuously darts up and down from your eyes to your bump

#! “how long?”

#! “since you left.”

#! “was it the night before?” he was referring to your act of intimacy the night before he left

#! “yea.”

#! “wow. why didn’t you tell me?”

#! “because.”

#! “‘cuz what?”

#! “because i know you. you would either stop touring and come home, or stay but lose focus. i was just trying to not distract you because i know how important your career is to you. and because i thought that you’ll be having a six months break after this tour before your next comeback, i would tell you when you came home. i’m sorry if you’re ma-,”

#! “i’m not mad. oh don’t cry, babe, look at me.”he carefully cups your face, “it’s okay, it’s okay. i get why you kept it from me. and now that i have no schedule for the next six months, i can be there for you until the end of your pregnancy and the beginning of our baby’s life alright?”

#! you weakly nodded against his palms, and he brings you back down to lay your head on his chest as you both softly talk about the past months without each other

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princehrry-writings · 3 years

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Legal Guardian

ugh this took way too long lol, but here it is!!! i forget exactly that sparked this but i thought it was a cute idea.

warnings: injuries (nothing major), hospitals, cursing, harry being a protective dad 🥺, talks about adoption and legal guardians, crying

wordcount: 2481

harry styles x reader, stepdad!harry x reader, stepdadharry x oc!stella

masterlist

Stella gets hurt and Harry is the only one there- but he has no legal jurisdiction…

It all happened really fast. Harry can’t even recall how it started, but he knew very well how it ended. A sobbing Stella strapped into her car seat as he raced to the emergency room, frantically calling Y/n who was in a different state on a work trip.

The 5 year old didn’t understand what was going on, she just knew she was hurting… really bad. And that she wanted her mommy and daddy.

The traffic seemed to be working against him, getting in his way at the most inconvenient times, all the while he was trying to console his weeping daughter, crying out “Daddy it hurts so bad!” effectively shattering his heart into a million little pieces.

Stella had been playing happily in the backyard at home, showing off her wonderful dance moves to Harry who watched with an adoring smile on his face, taking little videos to send to his fiance, when suddenly she was laying on the ground, clutching her ankle, and crying for him to come get her. He rushed into action, not having seen her take the fateful step into what must have been a hole in the ground or something.

Screeching into the hospital car park, he stops somewhere he obviously wasn’t supposed to but he couldn't care less. His mind was racing. What if she broke her ankle? Or tore a ligament? What if she has to get surgery? All of this is what he worries about as he flings the back door of his car open, trying his best to appear calm for his daughter (but it’s not really working), and scoops her carefully into his hold, bringing her inside and shouting for someone to please help him.

A few nurses rush to his side, asking him different questions and asking for someone to “Page Dr. Robbins, tell her we need a peds consult.”

Stella is whisked away from him and before he can start to follow after her, a hand is placed on his chest, stopping him in his place.

“Sir, we can’t have you in the room with her. You’re not on her file as a legal guardian!” A doctor tells him. In that moment, he sees nothing but red, steam pouring out of his ears.

“The hell I can’t, I’m her father! I’m not going to let her sit in there all alone while strangers poke and prod at her!” He all but yells at the man. Harry is not violent. He really isn't. But he’s not afraid to lay somebody on their ass when it comes to his girls. With kindness or course. And maybe a black eye.

From the room she was taken into he can hear her crying for him.

“Wan’ my daddy! Daddy!” Harry didn’t think his heart could break any further than it already had but he was proven wrong by the ache in his chest that only grew stronger the longer he was kept away from his lovebug.

“Doctor, respectfully- if you don’t move the hell out of my way, I will move you myself. That is my daughter, and my fiance is in a different state right now on a business trip so I am the only parent she has right now. If you try to keep me from my child I will take legal action against the hospital and sue for everything you’re worth. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Harry is seething, trying to move past the man in the white lab coat and light blue scrubs. Again, he is stopped.

“I will call security, sir!”

“DADDY!” Stella is now screeching, her little voice hoarse from all the yelling and crying.

“Don’t you fucking hear that? She needs me, and you’re telling me I can’t go be with her! What the hell kind of doctor are you?” Harry is in the man's face, pointing at him vehemently. He doesn’t care that people are starting to watch the scene. Doesn’t care that some people have recognized him and are recording the ordeal. Let the people see him fighting for his family. He doesn’t give a rat's ass if his “image” takes a hit. His daughter is on the line and he won’t back down.

“She’ll be fine-”

“No she won’t! Go ahead and call security. My daughter needs me and you’re not going to stop me from being in that room with her.” With that he pushes past the doctor (who must be an intern or something with how he’s handling this situation) and rushes into the room where his baby is screaming for him. He’s at her side in a matter of seconds, wiping the tears from her face, peppering kisses onto her head, petting her wild hair back from her face, just consoling her in any way that he can.

How fucking dare they try to keep him from her, especially when she’s in a state like this.

“It’s ok baby girl, daddy’s here now. I’ve got you. You’re ok, you’re ok!” He mumbles into her hair, doing his best to stay out of the way of the people examining her but still close enough so she knows he’s right there with her.

Little tears still streamed down her face but she was much calmer now, her breathing more even and body less tense.

“Mr. Styles we’re bringing in the portable x-ray to take a look at her ankle, so you’re going to need to wear this.” He nods and takes the vest given to him, putting it over his shoulders like he sees the others do. A similar article is placed over Stella, who is clinging to Harry’s hand, fearing that she’s going to have to be without him again. But he promises he isn’t going anywhere.

As they’re taking the x-ray his phone starts ringing in his pocket and he checks to see that it’s Y/n calling him back.

“H, what’s wrong, is she ok?” Her panicked voice rushes out as soon as the call connects.

“We’re in the ER right now and she’s getting an x-ray to see what’s going on with her ankle-”

“You’re in the room with her right? She’s not alone?”

The little shards of his heart keep breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as her voice breaks.

“Yeah, I’m right next to her. Don’t worry m’love, she’s not alone!” He glared at the doctor that tried to keep him out as he said that, letting him know he hadn’t forgotten.

“I’m gonna facetime you so I can see her.” She said and he nodded, waiting for it to come through. When it did he quickly accepted it, seeing the love of his life’s face on the screen, with her puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears so she didn’t freak out her baby.

“Stell, mumma’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you.”

“Hi baby girl!” Y/n said as soon as Harry held the phone so Stella could see her mom. The little girl's tear stained cheeks looked exactly like her moms, and her heart broke for her baby.

“Hi mumma,” Stella pouted into the camera, clutching onto her daddy as tight as her little hand could. Harry was a little uncomfortable but he would take this over not being in here at all.

“How do you feel, baby? You ok?” She asked.

“My foot hurts and they wouldn’t let daddy in here and I was scared, but he’s here now so I’m ok.” The little girl rambled off. Y/n almost missed how she said they wouldn’t let Harry in the room but when it finally registered, she was fuming. Absolutely, royally pissed.

“What do you mean they wouldn’t daddy in there?” Stella shrugged and looked up at Harry for an answer. He brought the phone back so he could see her after looking around at the doctors in the room, all doing their job and pretending they weren’t listening to this conversation, but a few of them winced when Y/n asked her question.

“Some bloke tried to keep me out of the room while Stella was being examined but she was on the verge of a whole breakdown. It was like Disneyland in Paris all over again.” He said, referencing the time Harry took his girls to Disneyland while they were in Paris and Stella got separated from her mom and dad. She had never not been able to see at least 1 of her parents before. Needless to say… she didn’t handle it very well. Screaming, crying, and hyperventilating (which freaked her out even more- causing her to scream louder and cry harder) ensued very shortly, disturbing every person around her. But it made it easy for them to find her and she spent a very very long time clutching her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck, not letting him set her down for anything. That was an interesting trip to the bathroom …

“Why would they try to keep you out of the room? You’re her father!” Y/n was on the verge of popping a blood vessel. Of course the one time her baby really needs her, she’s hours away.

“Uh, Mr. Styles, I’m so sorry to interrupt! But the x-ray is complete. There’s no break, it looks like a sprain at worst. Also, about why my intern was saying you weren’t allowed in the room, not that I was listening to your conversation, with ped’s cases we typically only allow legal parents or guardians in the room and your name isn’t anywhere on her file or on her records so he was just trying to follow safety protocols. He didn’t go about the situation as well as he should have because we always want to make sure our patient has what they need and that was obviously you- but that is the reason why you initially weren’t let into the room. You’re not a legal parent or guardian. Based on your situation- you’re legally considered a step-parent and that title doesn’t come along with any legal jurisdiction.” Dr. Robins explained, in quite a few words Harry thinks, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just sits and realizes that while for the better part of a year and a half, he’s been calling himself Stella’s dad but the whole he’s not been anything… not legally anyway.

Y/n realizes this too and makes a mental note to call their lawyers to do something about that.

“That makes sense… Thank you, Dr. Robbins! I have her mum on the phone, but you knew that, so if there’s anything else I legally can’t do, she’ll have to take care of it like thi-”

“Mr. Styles, we won’t tell if you don’t! Anything else that needs to be signed, we’ll just go ahead and have you do it. Save the hassle for everyone.” Dr. Robbins interrupts him and he smiles, silently thanking her.

“Daddy, what's a legal guardian?” Stella asks after a quiet moment.

“A legal guardian is someone who takes care of you because the law says they can. So because I didn’t help mumma make you and I came into your life a little later, I’m not a legal guardian of you. Not yet anyway.” He mumbles the last part but Y/n catches it.

“Does everyone have a legal guardian?” She hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes with the hand that wasn’t clutching Harry’s.

“At one point yeah, but once you get older you don’t need one anymore because you can take care of yourself.”

The girl pauses, thinking about her daddy’s words before muttering “Don’t wanna take care of myself. Wanna stay with you and mumma forever.”

All the little shards of his heart slowly start to piece back together.

“I want you to stay with me and mumma forever too lovebug.” He cooes. Y/n’s eyes light up, her gaze filled with adoration for her little family.

. * .

“The documents are all drawn up Mrs. Styles, everything is ready for your husband to sign.”

“Thank you so much Ben!”

. * .

“Baby, c’mere. Wanna talk to you about something.”

“Yeah mommy?”

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to quell the tears she could already feel threatening to fall. Her newly wed husband sat beside her on the couch, running his hand along her back and squeezing her shoulder and letting her know he was there if she needed him.

“Do you remember when you and Daddy had that conversation about legal guardians?” The woman asked, pulling her baby into her lap, brushing her hand over the girl's hair affectionately.

“Uhhh, kinda.” She murmured, curling into her mom.

“Do you remember what a legal guardian is?” Y/n rephrased, hoping to jog the girl's memory. Stella nodded and when prompted by her mother explained that “It’s someone who takes care of you until you're old enough to take care of yourself.”

“That’s right baby, very good!”

“And do you remember when we were at the hospital and that doctor was being mean, not letting Daddy into the room with you?” Harry chimes in, scooting closer to his girls. She nodded with a roll of her eyes and a huff of breath, causing a little giggle to erupt from her parents. She really is her mothers daughter.

“Didn’t like him.” She mumbles.

“Do you remember why they didn’t let him into the room?” Y/n asks, knowing she should probably get to the point before her little one checks out and gets bored.

“Cause daddy’s not my legal guardian.” Stella huffs again, rubbing her eyes and nuzzling further into her mom.

“Do you want him to be?”

Stella’s quiet for a moment, tapping her little finger on her chin like she’s thinking hard. “Yeah.”

“Yeah? You want that baby?” Harry asks, pulling her into his lap. The girl wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder, nodding.

“Yeah, Daddy. Want you to be able to come to the doctors with me.” She mumbles sleepily.

The tears Y/n had been fighting off finally broke through, despite her efforts. It’s official. Harry is going to adopt Stella and they would be a family in every sense of the word. No one would be able to take Harry's little girl away from him. All he had to do was sign the paper. Harry felt tears spring to his eyes as well, smoothing his hand along his baby’s back.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that…” He says, squeezing her a little tighter. Y/n snaps a quick picture before she snuggles into them.

“Love you Mommy, love you Daddy.” She murmurs before falling asleep in Harry's arms. Something that isn’t new, but feels different now for some reason. Things felt a little more official and he hadn’t even signed the papers yet.

#daddy? series #stepdad!harry #stepdad!harry x reader #dad!harry #harry styles x reader #stepdad!harry styles #harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x singlemom!reader #harry x singlemom!reader #singlemom!reader #one direction

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ao719 · 3 years

Text

A Night to Remember

Happy 100 weeks @wackydrabbles! 🥳 I am participating in this weeks challenge with the prompt This is huge - we need to celebrate!

A/N: Thank you to @dcbbw and @burnsoslow for prereading!

Word Count: 1992

Warnings: Very mild language, but other than that, none.

The Soho penthouse elevator door slid open; Catherine and Gideon stepped out, followed by a sullen Reyna shuffling behind them. “Well, I’m glad Vince is alright,” Gideon said as they stepped into the kitchen. “I’ll give him hell for putting you in danger once he’s recovered; I can’t exactly kick his ass while he’s down.”

“It’s ‘kick him while he’s down,’ dad,” Reyna mumbled.

Gideon casually shook his head. “Not this time.”

Reyna slumped onto the stool at the counter and pressed her forehead against her palm as she heaved a sigh; Catherine rested her hand on Reyna’s shoulder. “You’ve been looking forward to it for so long, Reyna. There’s no reason you can’t still go and enjoy yourself.”

Reyna shook her head. “There would be nothing enjoyable about going alone.”

“Do you want to come to Miami with us?” Gideon asked.

“No. I’ll just … stay home and wallow. Alone.” Reyna stood and walked towards her room; Gideon and Catherine shared sad smiles.

****

Liam glanced at his watch as he finished dressing; he wondered if Reyna was home. She told him it was senior week; he didn’t understand what the hell that meant, but he knew she didn’t have school because of it, and she’d been out almost every day this week with her friends.

Ever since his birthday ball last month and his realization of how strong his feelings for her truly were, Reyna had been on his mind more than usual. He knew it was one-sided, however, so he tried -- and failed -- to brush it off.

Liam sat at his desk, figuring he would try to call Reyna before starting his day. He opened his laptop and hit the video call icon; he felt his stomach flip when it started to ring. Reyna’s face appeared on the screen a moment later, and Liam smiled; his smile fell when he noticed her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face. “Rey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Reyna sniffled as she wiped her cheeks. Liam cocked his head to the side and gave her a knowing look. “It’s so dumb,” she shook her head.

“Tell me anyway.”

“I … I can’t go to my prom,” her breath hitched.

“Why?”

“Because my date is an idiot, and he can’t go … so now I can’t go,” she sniffled.

“What happened?”

Reyna took a breath in an attempt to collect herself. “I was supposed to go with this guy, Vince. A bunch of us were out yesterday when his dad called to let him know he received his acceptance letter into Brown University; it’s a prestigious school and the one he really wanted to get into. So he was all excited and said, “this is huge - we need to celebrate!” So we decided to spend today at Coney, and we rented jet skis. I was riding with him, and he was trying to show off and started messing around. He wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing or where he was going, and the corner of the jet ski hit the concrete slab of the pier, threw me off, and he managed to crush his ankle between the concrete and the jet ski. It broke in three spots, and he has to have surgery …”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt, Rey!” Reyna forced a halfhearted smile as she wiped her cheeks; leave it to Liam to be more concerned about her safety than anything else. “So, just because he can’t go, why does that mean you can’t go?”

“I mean … I could. But all of my friends have dates … I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s big night by third-wheeling it.”

“What exactly is prom again? I don’t understand these things you guys do in the States.”

“Imagine a ball … that’s pretty much what it is, just with less pomp and circumstance … to commemorate the end of senior year.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “It’s fine. I don’t need to go,” she said quietly.

Liam chuckled, and she looked back at the screen as he offered her a sad smile. “Then why are you so upset?”

“Because prom is like a rite of passage, Li! It’s something my friends and I have talked about all year. It’s supposed to be this amazing night to remember …”

Liam looked away from the screen for a moment; in the background, Reyna heard someone tell him that he needed to go. He looked back at her and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Rey, I have to go meet with my father. But I’ll call you later, ok?”

“Ok,” Reyna nodded.

*******

On the day of Reyna’s prom, she spent most of the morning lying in bed until her parents called from Miami to check on her. Gideon informed her that he had enlisted her aunt to keep her company for the day. Reyna insisted she was fine, but Elsie showed up at the penthouse just before lunch and dragged her out anyway.

Reyna hadn’t heard back from Liam since he called her a couple of days ago. She knew he was busy taking a few meetings for Leo, who was away on a diplomatic trip with Constantine, but she wished she could talk to him; he would tell her to stop sulking and crack a joke about why she should be glad she was missing her prom.

After a day of retail and mani-pedi therapy with Elsie, Reyna suggested they grab dinner, but her aunt insisted she get back to the penthouse. Reyna was confused since Elsie had practically forced her to come out, but she shrugged it off.

“Thanks for taking me out today,” Reyna said.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now, get inside,” Elsie shooed her with a grin. Reyna gave her a curious look before entering the building.

As the elevator made its ascent to the penthouse, Reyna couldn’t help but think of her friends at that moment; they were all at the Conrad by now, their night just beginning. She sighed as she slumped against the metal wall of the elevator. When the doors opened, she stepped out, carrying her shopping bags in both hands. She froze when she saw a figure round the corner, and her eyes went wide.

“Liam?” Reyna dropped her bags and rushed towards him; she squealed as their bodies collided when she jumped into his arms.

“Hey, you,” Liam chuckled.

Reyna drew back from their embrace to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

Liam couldn’t contain his smile as he set her back on the ground. “I have a surprise for you.” He took her hand, guiding her down the hall to her bedroom. When they stepped inside, Reyna turned to look at him. “I need you to get dressed.”

“Where are we going?”

“Not far,” Liam smiled. “And you need to wear that.” He nodded his head to her closet.

Reyna turned to see the unworn garment she had stuffed away the other day now hanging on the door; she looked at him with her brows furrowed in confusion. “My prom dress?” Liam nodded with a smile. “Why?”

“Stop asking so many questions and just get dressed.” With that, Liam left her to change.

****

A short time later, Reyna emerged from her room. Hearing her come down the hallway, Liam turned to look at her; his eyes widened as a smile split his lips. She gave a little spin, and his eyes traveled over her; she wore a powder blue backless A-line gown. He had seen her dressed up countless times before, but in that particular moment, she took his breath away. “You look … wow, Rey …”

Reyna smiled as she looked him over; he had changed into a pair of black dress pants and a white dress shirt complete with a tie. “You changed, too.”

“Of course,” he grinned. He could see the confusion in her expression and offered his arm. “Come with me.”

Liam guided Reyna up to the private rooftop terrace of the penthouse. When they stepped out, Reyna was met with soft music, and her eyes widened. Liam had it decorated with flowers, candles, twinkling lights, and white and gold balloons. “Liam,” Reyna choked out, “what is all this?”

“I was going to offer to take you to your prom, but when I talked to your parents, your mother informed me that you had already given your ticket away. So … I decided to create a prom for you …” Liam offered her a smile and turned, grabbing something off the ledge. “My research on proms told me I should give you one of these.”

“You did research?” her voice cracked, and Liam nodded and took her hand, slipping a white rose corsage onto her wrist. Reyna’s vision was blurred as she looked up at him. “Liam, I …” She trailed off, finding it hard to speak over the lump in her throat.

Liam smiled as he brushed a tear from her cheek. “I know it’s probably not the prom you had envisioned, but-”

Reyna cut him off with a shake of her head. “It’s not … it’s better,” she tearfully smiled.

Liam took her hand and gestured to a nearby table that was set for two. “My research also told me there’s typically a dinner involved before the actual prom.” Reyna glanced around the decorated terrace, still in shock, as Liam guided her to the table; he helped her into her seat before taking his own. He lifted a large cloth off the center of the table to reveal a pizza box from her favorite pizzeria, and Reyna let out a laugh as she wiped the tears from under her eyes. “It said fancy dinner, but this seemed more -”

“Us,” they said in unison and smiled. “Jinx.”

“It’s perfect, Liam. All of this --” Reyna motioned around “-- I-I can’t believe you came all of this way … and did all of this for me …”

“I just wanted you to have your night to remember.” Liam smiled, seeing Reyna’s eyes glistening in the soft terrace lighting. “I do have something your prom wouldn’t have had, however.” Liam reached down next to him and lifted a large bottle of Cordonian apple wine with a grin. “They wouldn’t serve you this.”

“Definitely not,” she giggled as Liam poured them each a full glass.

****

After consuming the entire pizza and two glasses of wine each, Liam loosened his tie and stood from his seat as a slow song started to play. He offered Reyna a lopsided grin and his hand. “Dance with me?”

Reyna took Liam’s hand, and he led her to the center of the terrace; he gave an exaggerated bow, and she laughed before looping her arms around his neck as his arms wrapped around her waist. She rested her head against his chest as they started to dance.

Reyna still couldn’t believe that Liam had made the long flight from Cordonia just to make this night happen for her. She swore any time she was with him, those secret feelings she held since she was 16 grew, but this made that unrequited love she had for him even stronger. This was one of those moments that, if she could, she would capture and hide it away just to relive it.

Reyna glanced up at Liam, unable to stop her smile as he returned his own. She perched on her tiptoes and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before: a kiss under the guise of alcohol to mask their true feelings. Liam pulled Reyna closer, so there was no space left between them as they became lost in that one perfect moment. When she drew back, she stared up at him, reminding herself that they were just friends.

“Thank you, Li,” Reyna whispered.

“For what?”

“For giving me a night that I won’t forget.”

Liam smiled as he stared down at her. “I’d do anything to make all of your nights like this, Rey …”

******************************

This is part of my Always You universe. If you’d like to be added or removed from tags, please let me know!

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#wacky drabbles celebrates 100 weeks #wacky drabbles #trr #choices trr #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #trr liam #trr fanfic #trr fan fic #trr fanfiction #choices trr fanfic #trr au #trr au fanfic #choices trr au #liam rys #king liam rys

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

The Incident, The Aftermath

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: Amputation, an explosion, hints at PTSD (it’s a wee bit sad but I promise it gets happier)

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: So I finally got the guts to post something... If you like it, thank Camz :) If you don’t, sorry mi dude, I’m working on it (but constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!).

You’d slipped into the tank top and shorts easily enough, and here you were standing in front of your dresser. One look at the unruly mop atop your head caused you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You carefully ran the brush through your hair, allowing the knots to loosen up one by one.

You’d been leaving your hair down every day since The Incident, but that was two weeks ago. Assuming everything healed properly, Tony and Bruce were going to fit you for a prosthetic in a week, but until then you had to work with what you had… which was one less arm than you were used to having your entire life.

The universe wasn’t being very thoughtful of your adjustment—it was supposed to get up to ninety-five degrees today—so maybe today would be the day to try putting it up. You had seen some people do it on YouTube, and it didn’t seem that difficult. Plus, if you had enough dexterity to wield a knife with one hand and still leave your opponent in pieces, you should be able to put up your hair with one hand easy peasy.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, unsure of what to really do with it. You didn’t see a braid working. You could pin some of it to the side so that it wouldn’t fall in your face, but with the heat, you wanted it completely up. A messy bun could work, though; it was simple, got the hair off of your neck, and it was meant to be a bit untidy. Perfect. With the style in mind, you pushed an elastic around your wrist and set off to work.

Twisting your hair was easy enough. Looping it around to actually form a bun was slightly more difficult, but you managed. When it came time to actually loop the elastic around the bun, though, things got more complicated.

You copied the video, pressing your head against the wall to hold your hair in place while you secured the elastic. However, looping the elastic around the bun without significantly shifting your hair was proving to be extremely difficult. Nevertheless, you managed to do it. The mirror then filled with your reflection as you examined your handiwork.

Handiwork was one word for it. Simply put, it looked like a toddler had done your hair. You weren’t sure how exactly you had messed up since you couldn’t really see behind your head, but you could see the result, and it wasn’t pretty. You let out a puff of air, pulling the elastic out and reaching for your brush. One glance at the clock told you you had enough time for two or three more attempts before you had to call it a day.

Five tries later, you were no better off than you were before. Sure, the bun was supposed to be messy, but there was a certain art to a messy bun. This just looked like a giant cat spit a hairball on top of your head. On top of that, you were now running late to meet Wanda for grocery shopping.

“Miss Y/N,” FRIDAY started.

“Tell her I’ll be down in five,” you sighed, your eyes brimming with tears. You supposed one more day of leaving your hair down wouldn’t kill you even if it was going to be hot, but you just wanted to be able to take care of yourself. You hated seeing the looks of sympathy your teammates gave you every time you had to ask for help for the simplest things, whether it be grabbing a plate at the bottom of the stack or setting up equipment for training.

Sure, things were getting a little easier, like dressing yourself without help. You could deal with the phantom pain. It was excruciating, but pain was one part of the job that you were used to. You had also managed to hide your frustration from the team pretty well since The Incident, but you weren’t sure if that made it any better; half of them seemed like they were walking on eggshells when they were around you.

When it came to the nightmares, though, that was much harder to hide, especially considering you shared a bed with one of the lightest sleepers in the world. You hated waking her up every night, your body soaked in sweat and chest heaving as you forced yourself to remember that it was all over, forced your mind to believe that you were safe even when your body didn’t.

Before you could really understand what was happening, your emotions from the last few weeks bubbled over. Anger, frustration, anguish, and countless others flew to the surface, demanding to be released. Your fingers dug into your hair, yanking on the elastic—along with several strands of hair—until they flew out, hitting the floor somewhere you didn’t care to find. The hairbrush was next, being snatched from the top of the dresser and chucked at the door as hard as you could manage.

“What the- Y/N? Are you okay, babe?”

The thwack of the brush hitting the door caused you to flinch even though you were the one who caused it. Not processing your girlfriend’s muffled words at first, your eyes widened as you stepped back, and for a split second you were transported back to The Incident.

---

You grabbed the last civilian who had fallen behind the others, practically tossing them out of the building before it could explode.

“Y/N! Get out of-” Before Steve could finish his sentence, the building burst into flame, and the blast sent you flying in the air.

When you came to, the only thing you could focus on was the excruciating pain radiating from your elbow. You couldn’t make out exactly what had happened to it, but, wow, to say it hurt was an understatement.

It was several minutes later before the ringing cleared from your ears and you finally realized someone was talking to you.

“Y/N! Y/N, love, please, where are you?” The familiar voice drove you to use the little energy you had left, lifting your head off of the pavement to scan your surroundings. The dust and debris from the explosion made it difficult to see, but you could just make out her shape a few feet away from you.

“Turn… around, you doofus… I’m… behind you,” you wheezed out before letting your head hit the ground.

“Y/N! Oh my god, I thought we-” The second the former assassin saw you, her mouth dropped.

“What is it, Natty?” you asked weakly.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just give me a second, okay? I’m going to get the rest of the team so we can get you out of here.”

“Liar,” you wheezed, half-teasing, half-panicked, but your girlfriend had already turned around. Squinting your eyes, you could just make out the small movements of her lips that told you she was talking, but the chaos and your pain and exhaustion—and probably blood loss, but you didn’t know that at the time—was making it impossible to hear what she was saying.

“Okay, they’re coming,” she reassured you, kneeling down next to you.

“What happened?” you tried again.

“You’re a hero, babe,” the redhead murmured, smoothing back your hair and brushing dirt from your face.

“Yeah?” Your voice was growing weaker, and you were becoming loopier than someone who had just come out of wisdom teeth surgery. Natasha knew it was only moments until you passed out.

“Yeah, you did it, sweet girl. You saved them all.”

“I did? I seriously hope Helen is a superhero too because someone’s going to need to save my arm. God, it hurts.” Natasha only let out a huff at your poor attempt at a joke, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Just hold on a little longer for me, okay? Can you do that?” Something wet hit your cheek, making you realize that your girlfriend was crying.

“Of course,” you scoffed. “Don’t…” You left her hanging.

---

After what felt like years, you finally regained your breath and returned to the present. “I’m fine,” you yelled out, your voice wavering. You knew Natasha wouldn’t believe you. Not only was she your girlfriend, but she was literally one of the best spies in the world. Sure enough, she tried to open the door, her efforts in vain since you’d locked it when you were changing.

“Hon, can you please open the door?”

“I’m fine, Nat,” you breathed out, your tone slightly more stable.

“Just let me in,” she pleaded. “Please?” Her soft voice made you sigh in resignation as you wiped your eyes. You tugged your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the bird’s nest on your head at least a little before showing yourself to her.

“Hi,” you practically whispered, not making eye contact with her once you had opened the door.

“Hey,” she responded softly, taking your hand in one of hers and using her other hand to lift up your chin. Rather than saying anything else immediately, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead as her second hand slid down to completely wrap your one hand in both of hers. The two of you stood in the doorway for a while, eyes closed and hand in hand. You weren’t a super soldier, but you were sure you could hear both of your heartbeats, yours slowing down to beat in tandem with hers.

“You okay?” she finally asked. You nodded slightly, your breathing now back to normal and the tears no longer streaming down your face.

Natasha always had a way of calming you down. You didn’t get frustrated or angry often, but when you did… the rest of the Avengers always joked that you were seconds away from becoming the next Hulk.

The former assassin slowly reached up to untangle your locks, noticing how you flinched when she first reached your hairline.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started with the faintest hint of uncertainty, “It’s been a while since I did your hair, and I saw this new hairstyle online that I thought would look really good on you…”

“Thank you,” you sighed quietly as you leaned into her touch.

“My pleasure,” your girlfriend smirked, pushing you inside your shared bedroom and closing the door behind her. She guided you to sit on the floor as she sat on the edge of the bed behind you. Brush in hand, Nat started sectioning off your hair. A small smile graced her face when you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully enjoy the contact.

Now halfway down your head, she spoke up again. “You know I’ll always be here for you, right?

“Nat…” you warned, although you had nothing to say afterwards, and the redhead took advantage of that.

“I can only imagine how upset you feel about losing your arm-”

“Nat,” you interrupted, your voice slightly harder this time. Natasha sighed as she continued to braid your hair.

“I’m just trying to say that I’m here for you. I was here for you before, and I’m here for you now. The number of limbs that you have doesn’t affect that. It also doesn’t affect your worth. You’re not useless, Y/N. You never were, and you certainly aren’t now.” Despite your best efforts, tears began to trail down your face. Natasha pursed her lips at the sight but continued, knowing that if she stopped now she wouldn’t have another chance to say what she needed to. “You are-” Nat’s fingers froze when you mumbled out something unintelligible, the hand over your mouth preventing you from enunciating. “What was that?” You sighed before speaking again.

“It’s not the arm. It’s not just the arm,” you corrected.

“Then what is it?” She resumed braiding your hair, her voice matching the tenderness in her hands.

“It’s- it’s the- god, this is embarrassing.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, love. I’ll never judge you for anything you’re feeling,” the redhead promised, pausing once again to brush her lips above your brow bone.

“It’s the fear, Nat. I can’t go one second without thinking about the explosion. About… losing it. I’m scared 24/7, Nat, and even if I could forget about it for even a moment, I have a constant reminder.” Natasha didn’t have to see your face to know that your eyes had flickered to the remainder of your arm that hung by your side. “And, god,” you laughed bitterly, “god, does it make me feel weak. What kind of Avenger constantly lives in fear and panic? How am I ever supposed to help anyone like this?”

“Y/N.” She stopped braiding your hair for the third time, pulling on it slightly so that you were forced to meet her eyes above you. “You are the strongest person I know. I know you’re scared, but guess what? You went through something super traumatic. It’s okay to be scared. Honestly, I might be more concerned if you came out of that and you weren’t scared at all. All of us get scared, and that’s perfectly valid because being scared does not make you weak. Being scared means you value your life, and that’s a good thing.” She paused her speech to relax her grip on your hair, but your head remained tilted, captivated by the passion and emotion that filled your girlfriend’s face and voice.

“And the Avenger that lives in fear and panic is the same one that was ready to give up her life to save people. You helped people in the past not because you had two arms or because you weren’t scared of stuff. You helped them for the sole reason that you made a commitment to helping others, to making the world a better place, and that is the sole reason why you will still be able to help others.” Natasha’s whole body was trembling. The hands that held your hair were white at the fingertips as she clenched them.

“I admire you more than anyone else in the world. You’re a hero, Y/N. Not ‘were,’ but ‘are.’ You’re the hero of every single person whose life you saved, and you’re my hero.”

“I didn’t-” Despite your interruption, the spy didn’t stop talking.

“You saved my life, Y/N, the second you walked into it. You give me a reason to live, to wake up every morning. And you’re my hero even more so now than before because you get up every day with a smile on your face, no matter what’s thrown at you.”

“Not much of a smile now,” you sniffed. Despite the tears that blurred your vision, you couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from curling up slightly. Nat laughed at the juxtaposition, finishing up the intricate braids woven in your hair before turning you around to face her.

“But look how quickly that changed,” she teased, pecking your lips after she wiped the tears from your face.

“Thank you,” you repeated for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.

“It was my pleasure. Plus, I was right, this hairstyle does look really good on you.” You bit your lip in embarrassment as you turned your gaze to the floor. “I’ll always do your hair for you, milaya.”

“I was actually thinking of shaving it off,” you smirked. As you examined your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but agree with Natasha. You looked good, missing arm and all. A little teary-eyed and runny-nosed, but amazing nonetheless.

“Don’t you dare,” your girlfriend scoffed. “I know I said I wasn’t leaving, but I might at that,” she winked.

“Hey!” You tackled her to the ground. Reaching for her abdomen, her eyes widened as your grin grew larger.

“Y/N, don’t you dare-” You talked over her, not paying attention to her threat.

“I can still tickle you with one arm.” The spy didn’t get the chance to respond before you pounced, smiling at the sound of her laughter.

“Stop, Y/N, please!” she managed to get out.

“Are you going to leave me then? Huh?”

“No, no! I won’t! I’ll never leave you! Please, just stop!” You let up on the tickling, gently brushing away the hair that was thrown over her face seconds ago. “Great,” Nat groaned, “now I need to redo my hair.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly. Seeing the pout on her face, you bent down and met her lips with yours.

“I meant it, though.”

“That you need to fix your hair?” Natasha laughed at the way your head had adorably cocked to one side.

“No, silly, that you’re my hero. That you’re the strongest, most admirable person I know. That I’ll always be there for you, and that I’ll always do your hair for you, even when you don’t need me to do it for you any longer.”

“I love you.” You kissed her again. “And I will always love you.” Noticing a slight shift in her face, you paused, studying her expression. “Don’t you dare start singing that song.”

“Miss Y/N, Miss Maximoff is wondering if you are alright.”

“Shoot, I need to go grocery shopping with Wanda!” You scrambled to get off of the floor, smoothing out your clothes before looking for your shoes. “Uh, FRIDAY, tell her I’m so sorry and I’m coming down right now.”

“One more for the road?” Nat pouted just before you reached the door.

“Of course. Thank you again, for everything.” Your lips melted together for a second before you pulled away.

---

“Wanda, I’m here, I’m so, so sorry!” You half-ran, half-slid down the hallway to meet your best friend at the door.

“Hey,” Wanda turned to greet you. “What took you-” She paused upon making eye contact with you. “I like your hair,” she grinned.

“Thanks,” you smiled back, “Nat did it for me.”

#I wrote something #oh gOD I actually wrote something #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #alwaysmarveling

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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Nine

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Sam, Steve

Warnings: gun-related violence (this is the primary theme so please be cautious), language, reference to smut

Summary: With reader back to work in the Tower, new threats arise and new approaches are taken to her safety. Kind of a filler but also kind of important.

Author’s Note: The next part is gonna be a 0 to 100 chapter so please hold while I hammer that out. I usually try to add multiple scenes/days/events but this is just one situation the reader is caught in. It’ll be getting to the primary climax soon though so I’m thinking maybe 3-4 parts left? Unless there’s more drama I want to add later 😈 And as always, feel free to send me a coffee!

Series Masterlist

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed

The next few weeks were thankfully uneventful. You had ordered a bed for Steve to put in the living room, including a curtain so he could have a little privacy, especially when Sam woke up extra early to start making breakfast. Bucky kept the inflatable mattress on your floor, but spent every night with you in his arms instead. “It’s safer this way,” he’d say. It was his excuse just in case your dad ever showed up unannounced.

The one time your dad did show up unannounced, Steve and Sam were at your front door with their weapons drawn and Bucky was shirtless in your bedroom doorway with his own gun aimed at your father. Fortunately, none of them were trigger-happy and lowered their weapons when they realized who it was.

Your dad learned three things that day:

1. He needed to call ahead if he planned on stopping by.

2. You were in very good hands in the safety of your apartment.

3. He wasn’t a fan of seeing a shirtless Winter Soldier leaving your bedroom — or seeing a shirtless Falcon and Captain America in your living room, for that matter.

Regardless, you were never worried about your safety when you were home, or even when the boys let you go out and about with them flanking you on every side. Needless to say, you didn’t go out much.

But you were able to go back to work at the Tower, mainly because the boys hadn’t been able to properly train or attend any missions while you were holed up at home — and it looked like things were clearing up around you. Your dad said one of them would have to stay with you even if the other two went on missions and had fortunately let you choose who that one lonely man would be. Not that you’d ever let Bucky actually be lonely.

The media buzz over you had died pretty quickly, but there were still a few relentless reporters that would crowd around you when you left Stark Tower. You always parked under the building where none of them could get in, but that didn’t stop you from going out to get lunch instead of staying inside and having it delivered. The weather was getting warmer and you wanted to get out while you could.

One gloomy Thursday, your dad decided to join you, Bucky, Sam, and Steve when you went out for your lunch. There was a falafel place just down the street that you liked, so the five of you decided to make it a group date, of sorts. Bucky was nervous at first, but you assured him it would all be fine.

“If you get a little cozy, just blame it on staying close so no one else can,” you said, holding his jaw in your hands. “You’re just keeping me safe.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead as you stood in the middle of your lab. You weren’t required to have protection while inside the Tower, but Bucky insisted on visiting when his training hours were over.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he said softly. He pulled your hands from his cheeks and kissed your knuckles before tugging you out of the lab to meet the rest of your lunch crew at the elevators.

Now that everyone knew who you were, you were able to be more playful and casual around your dad. Things that would usually have earned you some questioning stares from your work friends instead led to laughs and high-fives. You could make jokes and digs without getting in the same kind of trouble as Sam or Bucky. Steve still had the most immunity.

That was one of those days. You and Steve poking fun at Tony and making playful jokes he was quick to quip back at. The five of you were alone in the elevator the whole trip down, probably because Tony had Friday set to not allow anyone else in when he was in the lift.

Everyone was all smiles and laughs until the elevator doors opened. You took about three steps before you were practically tackled to the ground, a loud bang followed by the sharp ding of metal on metal stunning you more than the pressure of a body pressing against yours. Before you could even comprehend what was happening, the plaster of the wall above you shattered and crumbled around you at the sound of another loud bang echoing in the Tower lobby. None of the debris actually hit you, probably because of the large, heavy body of your boyfriend curled over yours.

Since you were on your hands and knees, you turned just enough to see Bucky’s blue eyes blown wide as he looked down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked frantically.

“I--I think so?” you replied, not entirely sure what you were supposed to be okay from. You hadn’t really processed what was happening, just that Bucky was completely covering you with his body. “Are you okay?”

He just nodded. “The bullet hit my arm, no damage.”

“The bullet?!” you half-screamed. “Is anyone hurt?” You pushed against his metal arm to see the rest of the lobby; everyone was crouched to the ground, and the sound of more bangs and dings of Tony’s suit getting hit told you why. Tony was just a couple feet from you, letting his Iron Man suit build around him, but started waving his hands at you, shouting “get her out of here!”

Bucky’s arms swooped under you and he swept you past the elevators and stairwell to a back room that only unlocked after Bucky scanned his hand in a hidden compartment. The door opened to a separate, smaller stairwell that you assume only led to the Avengers’ floors… 30 floors up.

“This way,” Bucky said, drawing your reluctant gaze from the towering steps to a hidden elevator behind the staircase. Thank god.

He quickly ushered you in and pressed the button for the private rooms. You’d never been above the common rooms, save for the one time you sat in Bucky’s room after surgery. Your eyes flicked to Bucky’s that were already trained on you looking for any injuries.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. His hands rested on your shoulders, his eyebrows furrowed as he scanned your face and body again and again.

You just nodded, still trying to process having literally been shot at. But the secret elevator was much faster than the main elevator because you arrived at Bucky’s floor seconds later. He grabbed your hand and led you to his room, keeping you close and constantly looking around even though only verified Avengers could access this floor.

“Your dad set up a whole plan in case something like this ever happened,” he explained. “We’re supposed to stay on this floor until one of them comes to get us. Chances are you’ll end up working from home again since you’re somehow safer there with us than here with everyone.”

He sounded annoyed, but you couldn’t blame him. You assumed you’d be safer in and around the Tower than in your apartment. Your apartment didn’t have all the gadgets and gizmos the Tower had. Sure, you had installed your own security system and now had constant video recording, but the Tower had Iron Man.

“Are you okay?” you asked again. Bucky looked up at you with his eyebrows drawn together, but nodded at your question. “Are… are dad, Steve, and Sam okay?”

It was harder for Bucky to answer that when he didn’t know. He silently pulled up the Tower video feed on his TV and found the main entrance. Tony already had the shooter face down on the ground with blasters aimed at him and an iron boot on his back; Steve and Sam were checking on bystanders. Knowing the rest of your little team was safe eased some of the tension in your body, but that just made it easier for you to realize you had nearly been shot.

“Thank you for saving me,” you said quietly. Bucky stepped closer to you, letting you wrap your arms around him as you forced back tears brought forward by the onslaught of fear that ran through you.

“I’ll always protect you, princess,” he said just as softly. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and just held you. It was just as important for him to hold you as it was for you to be held by him. While his embrace helped ground you and reminded you that you were okay, it reassured him that you were safe with him.

Bucky had grown so used to being the cause of people’s fear, not their source of comfort. You changed that.

You just stood there in each other’s arms for a while, needing the security to calm both of your nerves.

“Can we just… lie down?” you asked.

Bucky had never seen you this fragile before. He always saw you as his spunky little spitfire, so seeing you gradually crack and splinter as the seconds ticked by made his own heart break. Without a word, he led you over to his bed. He laid down first, letting you curl your legs over his abdomen and rest your head against his shoulder.

“I know you’re physically okay, but do you wanna talk about it?” Bucky asked softly.

You were quiet for a second, nervously playing with the hem of his t-shirt. It took a few minutes, but the gravity of what just happened ran over you like a freight engine and your mind wasn’t having a good time trying to get back on track.

“How many shots were fired?” you finally asked.

That’s not what he wanted you to ask.

“I counted five before we got out.”

The pause before your answer just made Bucky’s nerves even more frazzled. He wasn’t used to consoling anyone. That was Sam’s specialty, not his.

“Someone tried to shoot me five times,” you said solemnly. “Someone tried to… to kill me five times.”

“Hey, no,” Bucky hushed. “We’re not doing that. When I said I’ll always keep you safe, I meant it. I can’t lose my Build-A-Bear. Those things are expensive,” he teased.

You huffed a soft laugh before snuggling your head against his chest. With his right arm wrapped around you to trace his fingertips across your skin and his left hand hooked over your calves, it wasn’t long before you fell asleep. The stress of what appeared to be an attempted assassination didn’t sit lightly on your shoulders.

Bucky managed to stay awake, slowly and carefully grabbing his remote to find something to watch until he received word to let you go.

Nearly three hours later — after Steve, Sam, and Tony had spoken with the police and tried to get some info out of the shooter — all three came barreling into Bucky’s room, quickly silenced by the sight of you sleeping on Bucky. You had adjusted your position in your sleep, slipping your body between Bucky’s legs and resting your head on his abdomen. This left him to play with your hair since you were too low for him to continue to hold. He knew you’d have one hell of a time getting to sleep later that night and probably hold your messed up sleep schedule against him until you got back on track, but he wasn’t going to wake you up.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, more curiously than accusingly.

“Uh, she seemed pretty, um, unsettled by the whole thing and just wanted me to, to hold her,” he explained quietly and slowly, attempting to avoid revealing anything.

Tony just nodded in understanding.

“When she wakes up, I want you to find me.”

The way he said it didn’t sound upset or threatening, but Bucky felt ice shoot up his spine at your dad wanting to sit down with him — and only him. Nonetheless, he nodded as everyone left the room.

When you woke up not long after, he made sure you were okay before leaving to “talk things over with the guys,” he said.

Tony was waiting for Bucky in one of the conference rooms. He didn’t have anything with him other than his phone, so Bucky figured he wasn’t in any trouble… but that just confused him more.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna fire you for… cuddling with my daughter,” Tony said with a cringe. “Take a seat, please.”

Bucky hesitantly sat across from Tony, clearly still worried about what was going on. Tony’s silence was unnerving.

“[Y/N] is going back to her place full time. I’m sure you already figured that out. You three musketeers are clearly better at keeping her safe than I am. And before I continue, I need to say that Sam’s a good guy — most of the time — and Steve’s… something, usually something good, even though he loves getting on my nerves. But today, you were the first line of defense. Don’t think I missed the sound of that first shot hitting you. If you had been on the other side of her, you’d be in medbay right now having a bullet fished out of your arm.”

Tony paused again. He spun his phone in his hands, clearly working up to something and unknowingly setting Bucky on high alert. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Steve and Sam are going to stay with her at her place, of course, but I don’t want you to leave her side,” Tony finally continued. “If she goes into the kitchen for breakfast, you’re in the kitchen getting breakfast. If she goes to the bathroom, you’re right outside the door. That mattress stays right next to her bed. When she wants to order food, you send one of the other guys and stay with her. Bucky.” Tony paused once again. He leaned forward now just to make sure the severity of what he was about to say was fully understood. He didn’t want to say it, but he knew it was the right decision. “I’m trusting you with my daughter’s life. I don’t take this shit lightly and as much as I want to dislike you… you’re the person I trust the most right now.”

Bucky couldn’t describe the emotions running through his brain. Confidence? Joy? Maybe even fear? Sure, it was nice that his boss was giving him such a huge responsibility, but it was something entirely different to hear his girlfriend’s dad say that he trusted him. Wasn’t that part of why you weren’t telling Tony? Would this change things? Could you finally be open with your relationship?

“Thank you, Tony. That really means a lot. Uh, I-I won’t let you down,” Bucky managed to squeak out.

Tony just nodded before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leaving the room. Bucky sat alone in silence for a second to fully process everything. Was it ironic? Tony Stark was trusting the man who killed his parents to now protect his daughter. But wasn’t it already fucked up that Howard and Maria’s granddaughter was knowingly and willingly dating their killer?

Bucky had gone through a lot to come to terms with his past, but moments like this cast doubt on him again. But he couldn’t dwell on it. He had to find you, Sam, and Steve to get you home.

When he got back to his room, he found all three of you sitting on his bed and talking. You were still lying against the headboard with Steve sitting criss-cross applesauce and Sam lying on his stomach. You looked like a group of high schoolers at a sleepover.

“Hey,” he said softly. You smiled and made grabby-hands at him until he sat beside you.

“Slight change of plans.”

Everyone looked at him in confusion, Sam and Steve clearly not up to date on the team’s roles.

“I just sat down with Tony and, uh, I guess I’m basically your bodyguard now.”

“You already have been for a month now,” you said with a confused laugh.

“Well, yeah, but your dad said I’m not supposed to leave your side. Like, if you move to another room, I move with you.” Your eyes widened at this. It felt excessive, to say the least. You were basically already attached at the hip, but sometimes you just need a minute to be alone. “He said I’m the one he trusts most to protect you.”

“Come on, man, you could’ve just told me to go fuck myself,” Sam joked, earning a punch to the shoulder from Steve.

“Aw, you finally got parental approval,” you cooed, cupping his jaw in your hands.

“I don’t think the approval extends to me hitting it from the back until you pass out,” Bucky chuckled. Sam whistled lowly while Steve just shook his head in disappointment (approval?).

“Speaking of hitting it from the back, we should probably get back to my place before it’s too dark,” you said.

A light knock on your door drew everyone’s attention but before you could see who it was, you toppled over at the force of Bucky shoving your body behind his. You managed to catch yourself on his shoulders to lift yourself up, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck with your head perched on his shoulder. It was admittedly very couple-y, but your dad seemed unfazed in your doorway.

“Hey pops,” you chirped.

“I see I made a good decision,” he said, noting how quickly Bucky hid you from what could’ve been a potential threat. “By the way, Barnes is in charge of this operation now. Sorry Cap.” Steve just held his hands up in surrender. You figured he didn’t mind handing the reins over for once.

“We were just about to head out,” Bucky said. You’d have to make sure this newfound power didn’t go to his head. Which just meant you’d have to get him on his knees…

“I just wanted to give you this.” He held out what looked like the remote scanner cashiers had in checkout lanes. “I know [Y/N] has been getting a lot of fan mail so this will scan up to 20 items at a time for hazardous devices, poisonous toxins, and anything else that’s potentially harmful.”

You hadn’t gone through your mail in at least a week, but you’d already gotten the green light to have the next day — a Friday, thankfully — off after what happened, so you and the boys could hammer through everything and clear off your dining room table.

“Thanks, dad.”

You hopped off the bed and wrapped your dad in a much-needed hug. You both needed one after the stress of the day gradually wore off, but you could tell he needed one even more. You had Bucky to run to; Tony was worried about you. He held you tight and gently scratched right below your neck, just like he would do to get you to fall asleep as a baby. Some things never change.

“I love you,” you said quietly.

“I love you too, pumpkin,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. After another moment, you pulled apart and he went right back into business mode. “Okay, Rhodey and I are gonna follow you guys home in the suits just in case anything happens. Barnes, you’re in the backseat with [Y/N].”

With your dad standing behind you, he couldn’t see you mouth “backseat” to Bucky with a wink. The super soldier’s cheeks turned light pink, but so did Steve’s, which made it hard for you to keep from laughing as your dad continued discussing what changes would be made for your safety.

•

When you finally — safely — got home, you just wanted to take a bath and go to bed. You hadn’t even had supper, but you almost didn’t want to eat anything. If it hadn’t been for Bucky bringing you stuffed peppers courtesy of Sam, you probably wouldn’t have eaten. But he ate his dinner beside you on your bed, then joined you for a long, hot, bubbly bath.

Both of you knew it needed to be a slow night without saying a word. Bucky’s hands lazily ran over your skin before chasing the rinse of water with his lips. He wasn’t rushed or aggressive; he took his time and savored being with you. Even when you were lying in bed and desperately grabbing at his arms, back, shoulders, everything, his strokes were sensual and deliberate. His body acted as a fortress over yours, keeping you guarded from the rest of the world, even if it was just in your bedroom.

And as you fell asleep in his arms that night, he promised himself he would get to the bottom of your attack whether the law wanted him to or not.

#bucky x stark!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes series #Bucky fanfic

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Text

Gilded Cage - Part 4

Once again, A won in a landslide. I hope the choices this time around will be a little more interesting. As a result of A winning, Journalist will help Villain.

Both of the options from last time around led to separate twists. It may be a little confusing at first, but I promise, it’ll make sense!

Again, the suggestions I received this time around were amazing!

I hope you enjoy!

CW// Imprisonment, collars, shock collars, villain whumpee, talk of torture, talk of blood, explicit discussion of injuries, medical discussion, deciding whether a person will receive medical treatment, mention of pneumonia, amnesia, panic, talk of law enforcement and criminal charges

The news segment began with its cheery jingle, starting with a light whistle, and crescendoing into an orchestral sound.

The video dawned on Journalist’s set. Behind the camera stood their crew. But the show’s usual host was nowhere to be seen. Instead, having been replaced by two other reporters, sitting behind their table. In their chairs.

“Hello, everyone.” One of the reporters spoke with a nod of the head. Their practiced, fine-tuned smile was present on their face, but there was a level of appropriately moderated sadness to their tone. “We hate to inform you that the previous host of this show, Journalist, has unfortunately left their post.”

The other reporter spoke with a similar tone, looking up at their cohost. “Shall we get right to it, then?”

“I suppose there’s no point in beating around the bush.”

“No. There’s not.” The reporter shook their head. “Your regular news for this segment will be moved to tonight’s News at 10. After much discussion, we figured it was only right to address the situation regarding this segment’s former host.”

“Yes. I am certain that many of you have seen this video on various social medias.”

In the corner of the screen, a panel faded into existence, showing a silenced video. Only a few frames long, looping every time it finished.

The video was of remarkably low quality, and taken in remarkably low light. The faces of only one of those in it could be made out-- that of a bloody, bruised, yet alive Villain. They who stood over the injured was little more than a shadow in silhouette, face never once turning towards the camera. After a few repeats, the video skipped around, showing different frames. Always in shadow. Never showing more than a hundred pixels or so.

The action within could only truly be seen if the viewer was to squint. Or, if they knew what to look for.

“This video was released by the Organization of Heroes, late last night.” One of the reporters spoke up, after the display was finished and faded away. “It was taken by one of the employees of their headquarters, shortly after this very news segment was filmed yesterday, in that very headquarters.”

“The Organization stated that it released this video to promote transparency regarding a current investigation. Though the exact details have yet to be revealed, this video is harrowing on its own.”

“We do not know why Journalist would do this.” The reporter’s gaze met with that of the camera lens. “We all have our own opinions about Villain, but no opinion can justify beating someone senseless. We all knew Journalist. We never thought there were capable of such a horrible thing. It is believed that, after filming an interview with Villain, Journalist led them to an unused room, and beat them severely. This video shows the incident.”

“The Heroes and local law enforcement have stated that they are currently pursuing a manhunt for Journalist on charges of assault and battery.”

“To dispel rumors that have been spreading: As of only a few minutes ago, the Organization of Heroes has reported to us that Villain is alive and well. Rumors of their death are greatly exaggerated. Journalist is not being pursued as a murderer.”

“Villain is currently under the care of in-house medical professionals of the Organization. They are in critical condition, but are expected to recover.”

“If you believe to have spotted Journalist, please call the number on screen. This is a tragedy, but together, we can at the very least bring this criminal to justice. Thank you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Can they hear us?”

“No, no. They’re asleep.”

Villain’s eyes twitched, the voices above them hazy, coming from behind a layer of fog. Still, they thought they knew them... Maybe. The effort of recognizing who was speaking when made their head hurt, but their heart was beating far too fast to allow them to fade back into sedated bliss.

“Good.” Teammate muttered, their hand shifting the hospital bed ever so slightly as they placed it upon the bedrail.

“Yeah, good.” Hero’s grunt dripped with sarcasm.

“They need their rest.” Villain didn’t quite recognize the third voice, though they could only assume it was a doctor. “They’ve regained consciousness a few times, but they‘re somewhat sedated, right now. We can’t risk them choking.”

Choking. Villain knew that word. They remembered it being shouted, over and over again, next to them. Their mouth tasted so much like copper...

“I wish they’d choke.” Hero growled. Villain didn’t need to open their eyes to feel Teammate’s glare.

“Well, we’re not going to let that happen.” Doctor shook their head. “What we need to do is talk about... well, you’re in control here. We’re under your command. We have them stabilized, but if you want them to do anything more than lay in a hospital bed, we need to talk about what comes next.”

There was a moment of hesitant humming, before Teammate asked, tentatively:

“How bad is it?”

Villain had heard that question before, in a tone of panic and screaming. Who had said it?

Again, hesitance.

“Bad. Really bad.” Doctor sighed, straightening their tone to something more official. “We’ve seen some possible early signs of pneumonia, but, well...” Another deep breath. “Their torso sustained several dents. There’s risk of internal bleeding. That’s not to mention three snapped ribs, five additional broken or fractured ribs, and fractured clavicle. And the leg.”

For a moment, the nerves in the doctor’s voice turned to fury.

Villain knew that fury. The fury of someone who was watching the person they tried to protect die. Why didn’t they remember?

“A spiral fracture. I’ve never- I have no damn clue how you managed to do that. It’s generally only seen in falls, or industrial accidents, but... yes. There is a spiral fracture in their left tibia. We believe it’s shattered into five separate pieces, though we won’t be able to tell for sure until we can perform exploratory surgery. Villain will need to be a lot stronger before that, though.”

“Okay.” Teammate gritted their teeth. “And that’s all... bad.”

“Very bad.”

“Well, they’re not dead.” Hero hissed.

“They may as well be.” Doctor snapped back.

“Hey, who here is paying you-”

“Shut up, you two.” Teammate growled. “Are they going to die?”

“As it stands now... no. We have them stabilized. Any external bleeding has been stopped. But if our suspicions of pneumonia and internal bleeding are correct, then they could very well die, if we don’t act quickly. That’s what we wanted to ask you about.”

“Whether or not to save them?”

“Essentially.”

“Do it.” Hero’s tone was firm, though still frustrated. “At least for a bit. The edited video will go out on national news tonight. If this assault investigation turns into a murder one, it’ll be more scrutiny than I care to deal with. The less anyone looks into it, the better.”

“Having them back on camera so soon may not be a great idea, sir.” Doctor’s voice had practically turned to a whimper.

“Well, how soon can we expect them to be healthy enough for it?”

“A month-”

“A month?!”

“One month for the initial recovery. And at least four for subsequent physical therapy. They should not engage in any strenuous physical activity for at least that long.”

“We don’t have a month. Much less five.”

“Well, I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker.”

“I need them on the air tomorrow. Either tell me a way to make that happen, or I’ll find a better doctor.”

Doctor’s footsteps could be heard against the tile as they stumbled backwards.

“I guess there’s...”

“What is it?”

“The miracle drug. That’s what they call it. It’s certainly not a miracle, but... I’m sure you’ve heard of Hollywood medicine. An injured actor getting up the day after a car crash, looking good as new.”

“You can do that?"

“Well-”

“Then do it!”

“It’s not that simple. There’s no such thing as a miracle drug. Painkillers and steroids won’t fix their injuries, but with the right mix of them, they can be as good as new tomorrow. Well, along with some seriously good makeup work. Those injuries are... not pretty.”

“Then do that. The news is coming back at 9. Now, was that so hard?”

“Wait.” Teammate interjected. “It can’t be that simple. What’s the catch?”

“The catch?” Doctor began. “The catch is kind of the whole matter of the thing. This treatment, it won’t actually do anything. We’d be blocking pain signals to their brain, and giving them enough strength to press on despite their wounds. But that’s all. The injuries will still be there. And the longer they’re untreated, the worse it’s going to get. Especially if Villain is up and moving.”

“But they’ll be able to appear tomorrow night?”

“Yes. They’ll be good as new.”

“Then...” Teammate hesitated. “You treat them like normal, and we just give them some kind of miracle drug whenever we need them on stage?”

“Again, it’s not that simple. This treatment, it’s going to destroy any possibility of a normal recovery. It’s either or, not and. Either we treat them like normal, or we have them ready to perform tomorrow. It’s your choice, but I’m sure you know what I recommend.”

“They’re performing.” Hero spoke with such a force that it was known in the room that no one could hope to oppose the decision. “Get them up and moving. How long will this work? This miracle drug?”

“There’s no way of knowing, really. They run the risk of collapsing at pretty much any time. We’re tricking their mind into thinking it’s unharmed, but we can’t do that with the body. The wounds are still going to be very, very real.”

“Just give me an estimate.”

“I don’t know, two weeks? Less if the pneumonia gets bad.”

“And then?”

“And then they collapse. Kaput. Gone. The human body has its limits, superpowers or not.”

“I can work with two weeks. I want them back in their cell by tonight, understood?”

“Understood, sir. They’ll be as good as new. And, lay off the collar, please.”

“That depends on if they choose to behave, or not.”

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Villain wasn’t sure when the rough linen of the hospital bed turned to a duvet made of plush, laid atop an impossibly soft mattress that sunk several inches under their weight. They must have been moved at some point, they certainly didn’t remember walking. They couldn’t so much as feel their legs, so walking would have been an impossibility.

One hand curling around the plush on which they lay, they fought against their leaden eyelids until they finally relented and opened. The ceiling above them was one they knew far too well, having spent far too many sleepless nights staring up at it.

They blinked a few times, waking up their mind, which was rapidly beginning to panic.

Had they been dreaming? The day before, had all of it simply been a horrid nightmare?

Sitting up took only minor effort, and as their lungs filled with air, they felt no pain. In fact, their whole body was absent of any pain at all. Even their leg felt to not have lost an ounce of its strength.

It couldn’t have been a dream, could it have been? The pain had felt so real, but...

They raised a hand, drawing it to their ribs. Pressing down prompted no pain, only a vague soreness. But even with their limited medical knowledge, Villain knew full well that ribs weren’t supposed to fold inwards like that.

Nope. Definitely not a dream.

At least, that part wasn’t. Maybe? Trying to think about it was so difficult, causing a horrible, gnawing pain at the back of their mind. Closing their eyes to aid their focus, they did their best to recount.

They had eaten lunch, they believed. There had been others at the table. Visitors. Government representatives? The mayor, maybe? That sounded somewhat right. But then, no, that couldn’t have been right. They remembered the burning of stage lights so strongly, it must have been a news crew.

And then...

Then pain.

They didn’t remember the circumstances in any detail, but they remembered exactly how it felt for a boot to collide with their flesh, crushing all in its wake. They remembered how it felt to have every nerve alight in artificial agony.

After that, there was shouting. Someone was touching them, helping them sit up. It mustn’t have worked, though, for a moment after, they were on the ground, and there was more shouting. More yelling. Screams.

Then nothing. Next thing they could remember, they were swimming through sedatives and painkillers in a hospital bed.

And now they were here.

They looked to the clock, noting it to be late in the night. After the time at which the Heroes would have eaten dinner. There were never any appearances at night, so they would be left alone until it was time for lunch.

It probably would have been best for them to go back to sleep, to rest and recover, but now that they were awake, they couldn’t help but feel that such a thing would be impossible. Warmth ran through their veins like alcohol, making them feel more alive than they could remember having felt in quite some time.

Villain couldn’t sleep, but perhaps they could do the next best thing. They felt around their nightstand, finding eventually the television remote, and clicking on the TV mounted on the wall before them. It was what they spent most of their time doing, anyways. Staring at the screen and rotting.

The screen blinked on, displaying something that caused Villain to do a double take. They looked at the info for the channel, double checking its number.

It was the news. The Heroes had always kept every news channel, or really anything that talked about current events, firmly out of their reach. Yet, here one was, playing right in front of them.

They couldn’t help but feel a dull ache in their neck.

Still, who would catch them? No one would be coming in at this hour. Perhaps they could, at least, peek into the outside world. Hell, they would have been grateful to know the weather.

But what was playing was not the weather.

A banner on the bottom of the screen read, in big white letters, “News At 9.” Two presenters sat behind a table, a brief moment of silence hanging between them as a video played in the top right corner.

Villain saw their own face. Their own bloody, beaten face.

“It is believed that, after filming an interview with Villain, Journalist led them to an unused room, and beat them severely. This video shows the incident.”

Journalist.

Villain did not know that name, but it made their stomach twist in on itself.

Their nausea turned to panic in an instant as they heard a quiet knock, echoing against the door to their room. Already shaking, they lunged for the remote, tapping in a random number and willing the channel to change faster. By the time the doorknob twisted and the door opened, they were sweating bullets.

They looked to the doorway, doing their very best to pretend that they had only been innocently watching an approved channel.

They had expected Hero, or perhaps one of the others on their team, and they supposed that they weren’t entirely wrong.

Hero had long since stopped having a singular sidekick, stating that such a thing was horribly inefficient. Instead, they had multiple at any given time, training each for several months before sending them off to other duties.

Sidekick was one of the newer trainees. Villain couldn’t quite remember what exactly their powers were, though they remembered that this trainee in particular was one of Hero’s favorites. They were younger-- not a kid, but firmly college-aged, though their stature was far too muscular to suggest such a thing.

They had painted on their face the same smile that Hero always presented to the media. It made Villain shudder.

After flashing that bright smile a moment, Sidekick turned, closing the door with notable care and approaching their bedside. Villain turned off the television, shifting to face their visitor. Sitting up straight, drawing their shoulders back, showing all the respect that a trainee of Hero deserved.

“Can I sit?” Sidekick pointed to a spot on the bed.”

“Yes! Of course.”

They nodded, sitting down. There was a remarkable care in the way they moved and shifted, as if they were terrified of making even the slightest noise.

“Turn the TV back on.”

“Um- okay. I promise, I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to, it just turned on, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, please don’t-”

“Shh, shh. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not going to hurt you. We need to be quiet.”

Villain nodded, turning on the TV. The noise practically drowned out Sidekick’s voice, and they couldn’t help but feel that that was rather the point.

“Villain. You know me, right?”

“I wouldn’t say that I know you very well.”

“That’s okay. I’m Sidekick, and we want to help.”

“What do you mean ‘we?’“

“Me and your friend. Journalist. They couldn’t be here, it’s too dangerous, but... I know you don’t know me very well. And to be quite honest, I don’t know you very well, either.”

Sidekick raised their hand, causing Villain to flinch back. But they were not struck. Instead, the hand was presented as if offering a handshake.

“Villain, I need you to trust me.”

They felt their mouth grow dry as they looked at the offered hand.

“I know we don’t know each other well, but what I do know is that you’re suffering, and you need help. In three days, you’re going to be at a live press conference, down on the East side. There’s going to be a signal. When the sun disappears, that’s your signal. You’ll know what I mean, okay?”

“I don’t know if I-”

“Please. When you see the signal, you need to cause as much chaos as you can, okay? I mean, don’t hurt anyone, or at least try not to, but do what you need to do to get them running. That’s all you need to do. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“W-Why?”

Sidekick moved their offered hand closer.

“Villain, do you trust me?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

What should our Whumpee do? It’s up to you to decide!

There are two options, each one leading to a separate story branch. Alongside each option is a question specifying what exactly will happen. Answering this question is completely optional, but it is great if you have any particular ideas! Otherwise, feel free to just put a letter.

To vote, feel free to use any means you would like to contact me. Replying or reblogging this post works just fine, as does PMing me directly or sending me an ask. I am unsure when I will be writing the next part, so as long as the next part hasn’t been posted yet, voting is still open!

I will choose the story path based on which option has more votes, and will choose whichever answer I find the most interesting to base the next part upon. The choices and questions for this part are as follows:

A) Trust - Should Villain go along with the plan? B) Refuse - Should Villain report the infraction?

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact me. This is my first time doing anything like this, so I apologize if it’s odd or confusing ^^

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #villain whumpee #gilded cage #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump #hero villain whump #hero villain prompt

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masterwords · 3 years

Text

Surge of Twilight

Notes: This is so just...I don't know. I'll probably re-write this sometime when I'm capable of doing it justice but it's been sitting on my desktop for SO LONG and not getting any better that I just have to let it go. Set post-Route 66, during/after "In the Blood" where Hotch has come back to work after nearly dying and having major abdominal surgery...I've been really wanting to do something like this forever and just...I loved the idea and kind of hate what came of it but here it is.

Warnings: Post-surgery, Derek gets a little frisky, there is food and alcohol but mostly it's just tame.

Words: 4030

The last time he was in Penelope's apartment, she'd been shot. The scene was chaos, she was upset, the team were angry and afraid that the best of them had been hurt. This time, as he primed himself to drive to her home, he knew he would find smiling faces and laughter inside. It didn't help, knowing that. In fact it made it worse.

He felt less like he belonged there this time. It was one thing to be there for work, solving a case, leading his team in pursuit of someone who had hurt someone he cared for. It was something else entirely to arrive at her door just for fun.

“It'll do you good to see your friends,” Jessica told him as she forced him to get dressed. He argued the point that he had, of course, seen them at work for an entire week already but it wasn't the same and his argument felt hollow even to his own ears. “They need to see that you're really, actually okay. What they saw was probably pretty traumatic.” She always knew what to say. So, against his will, he pulled on his polo shirt and practiced looking “healthy as a puma” though he felt much more like an aching, elderly sloth.

Three weeks ago he was dead. It helped to think of it that way when he was pushing himself too hard, upset with his slow crawl toward normal. No one was watching, no one was pushing, yet there was always a nagging voice in the back of his skull telling him he wasn't enough, hadn't done enough, there was always more. More hours to fill in the day. Three weeks ago he collapsed in front of his colleagues and he died right there on the table. The light he saw was Haley, and he walked toward her, he wanted desperately to stay with her in that place but he opened his eyes anyway. All he had left to show for it now was a six inch incision below his navel, still a raised angry red and flecked with odd purple dots and dashes where the staples had been. Like Morse Code, Jack had pointed out. That was what he got for letting him hang out with Dave while he was healing, he figured. It was better than the endless video games the two played, shouting what he was certain were obscenities in Italian at one another while he tried to sleep off the post-surgical fog that just wouldn't lift. He was struggling this time like he hadn't before, couldn't seem to shake the exhaustion. Walking from his bed to the couch took it out of him. It was his age, the doctors assured him – he was going to be fine, it would just take a little extra time. What a slap in the face.

“You're going to have fun,” Jessica said, handing him a glass of water to chase the handful of evening pills he had to swallow. There were so many he didn't even know what he was taking some days, she just forced them on him when she was around or called to remind him when she wasn't. There were charts, pamphlets, little orange bottles with white caps and she took care of all of it because she knew he wouldn't. Sometimes he wondered if she was more of a caregiver for him than a babysitter for Jack anymore. He tried not to think too much about that one, it was too depressing. In any case, she didn't have to be there now, either, Jack was at a sleepover, but she couldn't seem to leave him alone for long these days. If he had control issues, she had them twice as bad. “Tomorrow is your birthday, act like it.”

“I am,” he countered seriously and she let out a sardonic chuckle. He hated his birthday, always had. It was more of a sick joke than a day to celebrate, though he felt less strong about that as the years passed. He'd been angry at it once upon a time, now it was just a day that he would rather forget entirely. Ultimately, at this point in his life, he'd had more good birthdays than bad but there was something still about them that just ruined him. He would prefer to fade into the background. No texts from well meaning friends and family, no gifts, nothing but just blissful everyday life. Waking, eating, sleeping. Nothing special, just simple routines.

The night before he was set to return to work, he'd laid in bed answering emails, working out case details for the morning while Jack was busy poking at the tender skin around his incision and trying to decipher what the doctors were trying to tell them. He was certain there was some secret code there, he begged to have his dad's phone to take a photo and send to Dave to see if he could help. It was not Aaron's favorite game, but it kept Jack occupied and quiet for longer than it should have and he was getting good at ignoring the intrusion. The scar itself was numb now, the skin surrounding it the same but beneath the wound was still a constant dull ache. Sitting and standing each came with their own peculiar sets of problems and limitations, it was finding the right balance that consumed most of his days before returning to work. He hadn't quite worked out how he was going to manage a ride on the jet, let alone an entire work day or sleeping in a hotel bed that didn't come with all of the easy amenities of his own bed and home. He couldn't pack all of his pillows and blankets and assorted bits of comfort that had helped him find rest through the pain and he was dreading what that meant.

“Aaron,” she said, grabbing her purse, ready to follow him out the door. “Try to have some fun. You haven't talked to Derek in weeks and you two were supposed to go out to dinner...make it happen.” He stared at his reflection in the mirror, frowning. Birthdays meant another year older, another line on his face, another patch of gray hair, another ache or pain that hadn't been there before.

“We haven't really talked since before I,” he began, but she shushed him. She wasn't going to have any of his nonsense, not now.

“Doesn't matter. Talk to him tonight.”

Tangled in the in-between, it was Derek that took the lead first on the jet. “Let's start with the basics,” he said, and he caught himself, let Aaron step in from that point. It was an intricate dance, this back and forth, and he was constantly amazed at the grace with which the team handled it. They never flinched when one took over for the other. There was never any question that it was Aaron's team, but Derek assumed the role so effortlessly that it was a wonder he hadn't gotten a team of his own except to those who knew him well enough to understand that was never really what he wanted. It wasn't for lack of the Bureau's trying.

He was keeping the air conditioning on in his hotel room, uncharacteristic under normal circumstances but sweating made him feel lightheaded and he was trying to be better about listening to his body. Jessica had sent him no less than four texts reminding him to drink water and take breaks, not to drink coffee in the evening and for goodness sake, go to bed at a reasonable hour. He wasn't entirely sure what that last bit meant, he rarely slept at all when they were out of town so what a reasonable hour really meant was lost on him. Still, he did what he could when he could. If anyone else attempted what she was doing he would tell them where the nearest cliff was, but he just told her he was listening, sent her a photo of his untouched coffee pot and his desk free of case files. He was doing his best, he really was. She was trying to break him of the habits that lead to them both missing his symptoms and knowing how worried she was, how devastated she was, he was taking it seriously. She'd used the term orphan to describe Jack on more than one occasion over the last few weeks and it cut him deep. She didn't pull any punches this time. Her anger was nearly as strong as her fear, and guilt was a powerful motivator.

Waking up took more time than usual, he was sluggish and drowsy. The day before had taken more out of him than he'd realized with travel and interviews, light duty was still more continuous activity and time awake than he'd seen in weeks. It didn't help that he couldn't find a comfortable position to sleep in, the hotel pillows were too flat, too squishy and the bed was too soft. His stomach muscles were weak, much too weak to pull him up to sitting without help. He'd conceived a system of pillows propping him up just so that he could maneuver without putting too much strain on his stomach but the hotel came with half as many pillows as he needed to recreate it. Now he was paying for it with heavy limbs and an ache deep in his belly that was worse when he shifted.

So he stayed still.

He listened to his alarm buzzing and he breathed through the slow throbbing until it eased up enough that he could move without the pulling, tearing pain. He managed to sit up and settle there, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, the pressure in his stomach almost unbearable. He wanted to lay back down but he knew if he did it would be all over so he waited and he breathed through it. By the time he managed to get dressed it had been a full hour since he first opened his eyes, when usually the entire morning routine was done in twenty minutes, twenty five if he had to shave. He'd figured out that if he walked just slightly stooped it didn't hurt so much, he could manage it. Jessica would have a fit, tell him he was supposed to stand up straight but there was just no way around it if he was going to do his job. Some concessions would have to be made and he could figure out how to fix it later. He spent his days shifting between leaning on counter tops and crouching, sitting and folding his arms over his chest. He was an expert at deflecting, saying something interesting the moment someone started to notice.

Penelope looked like she was suddenly face to face with a unicorn when she opened her door to find him standing before her. She looked him up and down with a radiant smile and he could tell she was genuinely glad to see him. Confused, surprised, but happy. Out of the apartment wafted a thick, heady bouquet of cinnamon and spices. He chewed his lip and offered her a sheepish grin, realizing he probably should have called or texted first.

“Jack got a sleepover invite so I thought I'd come by, I hope it's okay,” he offered in a voice almost too quiet to hear over the sound of chatter coming from inside the apartment. Everything was a swirl of twinkling lights and purples and reds, her home was so incredibly her and he was right, it was vastly different from the last time he'd been there. Everyone sounded so happy, so relaxed he almost hated to enter on the chance that his presence might burst their happy bubble. He was under no illusion that anyone wanted to spend time outside of work with their boss. Convincing himself to enter took a moment of self-reflection and the understanding that if anyone seemed put out by his being there, he would politely make his exit so they could get back to enjoying themselves.

“Oh, sir!” she exclaimed, barely able to contain herself over the entire team being together under her roof. Whether he was her superior or not made no difference, she just wanted to treat her people to a party because she loved them so dearly. All of them. A moment later, very quietly, she wished him a happy early birthday, knowing it wasn't common knowledge but unable to let it go entirely unnoticed. She couldn't stand the idea of him being alone, or not having anyone at all celebrating him though he kept that information locked up tight. They could have all known, and maybe they did, but no one ever said a word. His gift from Dave had already arrived on his doorstep a week early, that was how tight he kept a lid on things – Dave would rather have his gift mailed to him in secret than risk drawing attention. He smiled and nodded at her, thanked her quietly for her kindness, her discretion.

He kept mostly to himself after they all shared photos and stories of their loved ones, and he was doing his best to avoid the whispers and the sideways glances he knew were over the fact that he still carried a photo of Haley around in his wallet. He'd not intended to come, the photo wasn't for the occasion, it lived there between the folds, always had. The face had changed over the years, grown just as he had, but she'd always held the same spot there. He was barely sipping his wine because he wasn't supposed to be drinking and that was when he felt Derek's eyes on him, following his every move from a distance. Be was smiling, laughing, being so very Derek but his eyes were trained on Aaron every chance he got. He was already tired, had been standing in one place chatting with Dave a little too long for his body's taste. Excusing himself from conversation, he maneuvered his way around a corner to lean against a wall, contemplating whether or not he should take a seat at the table or on the couch. Or just go home. That would have been easy.

“You good?” Of course Derek found him. He'd been watching him like a hawk, saw his opportunity to swoop in.

“I'm alright,” Aaron whispered, but Derek could see it written all over his face, the way his eyebrows knit together, the way he stood stooped instead of straight. Before Derek could chastise him, he offered up a little more information. Just a nugget, meaningless in the grand scheme but he'd learned that people would stop inquiring when he offered without a fight. He'd carefully selected the information he was willing to share long before the conversations happened. Easier that way, and he could control the way everything went. He'd always been clever that way, it wasn't lying. It was just carefully deconstructed truth.

“My stomach has just been a little off since the surgery. It's nothing, really.”

“Nothing?” He didn't believe it, Aaron looked sick. He was pale and moved slowly. He'd looked okay when he showed up to work, but over the course of the week he'd begun to look worn down, ragged, tired. He and Dave had spoken countless times, but Aaron wasn't letting him in so he had to get secondhand information until the man was standing right before his eyes and he could reach out and touch him, see it for himself. He could understand it, Aaron not wanting to let himself be seen that way, hiding himself away. Maybe he was just tired, came back too soon and his body wasn't ready for it. Penelope told him that Aaron had coded, it wouldn't be the first time but it was scary, knocked the wind out of him. He and Dave had decided to keep that detail from the rest of the team. Not an easy task when Penelope was in on the secret, the way she fawned over him, worried about every single move he made.

They were interrupted by Penelope with an offer of food. Aaron wasn't hungry, he didn't feel like eating but his doctors told him he'd been losing weight. It was so easy to slip back into his old bad habits. He sat down beside Dave and he wet his lips with his wine, to anyone not looking too closely it would be a convincing display. But Derek was watching from across the table. Aaron could sit beside Dave and be safe, Dave would give him those looks and he'd know what was going on but he'd also cover for him, get people off of his back. It was a dangerous game they played, like the laws of brotherhood, only Dave got to pester Aaron, everyone else needed to back off. It reminded him of he and Sean, the way he would torment his brother to the ends of the earth and punch anyone else in the nose for doing or saying even an iota of what he did.

“Tamale?” Dave asked, but he put one on Aaron's plate before he answered and Aaron sighed. Dave knew the rules of engagement and took full advantage. “That's one of her meatless ones. She makes these because she knows at least you'll indulge her and eat them. Frankly, I don't see the point.”

“It's fresh jalapenos, corn and black beans, sir.” Penelope had been watching the exchange, maybe watching him all night. He had the feeling they all were, he couldn't escape the looks, the concern.

“Thank you, Penelope.”

He ate it and he enjoyed it. It didn't hurt his stomach, but it didn't help things either and he was starting to think he was just going to have to learn to live with yet another nagging pain. It would eventually fade into the patchwork of his existence like the rest. This was his birthday gift. A persistent stomach ache. In the grand scheme of things, it could have been worse. The meal was loud and food disappeared at an alarming rate all around him, the table emptied and bellies filled up. As everyone began to get full, leaning back in their chairs, the room got quieter. Satisfied hums filled the air.

After the meal, Derek cornered him again, only this time he was two glasses of wine in and he was all smiles and hands. He was closer this time, and he didn't seem to mind if people saw just how close he was. Aaron tried to squirm away, to pull them into somewhere more private and Derek was willing to follow but not to break the proximity. He clung desperately to being in Aaron's space.

“We still on for your birthday dinner tomorrow night?”

“Of course,” Aaron replied in a hushed tone, hugging his wine glass to his lips as if he were going to take another sip, as if he'd actually consumed any of it. He felt the plastic eyeballs knock against the glass, bobbing in the liquid, and listened to the soft plinking sound they made. Derek leaned in, closer, his warm breath on Aaron's neck.

“I was worried about you...” he whispered, and Aaron could see that nearly everyone had stopped what they were doing, eyes searching out the two missing members of the party. Penelope took out her phone and snapped a photo, and Dave followed suit. He wondered who they would find their way to, Emily for starters would be getting one but he felt flushed and light headed as Derek's lips worked their way from his earlobe to his collar bone. Aaron closed his eyes, his free hand finding its way to the small of Derek's back, palm splayed against the soft plane of warm skin and he clutched his drink until his knuckles were white in the other. “You died...”

Aaron felt the earth move beneath his feet and he nodded. Derek's thumbs slid over the peaks of his hip bones, looping through his belt buckles. “Not for very long,” he countered, a sly smile turning up the corner of his lips. He forgot about the stares, knew they would eventually move on, find someone or something else more interesting and if they didn't, well, there were worse things than shocking or confusing his colleagues. Rules be damned, he hadalmost died he reminded himself. In any case, he doubted whether it was really that shocking anyway, the two of them had been playing this elaborate game of cat and mouse for years now. (Who was he kidding? He'd be telling them all to keep a lid on it by morning, begging them all for discretion as if any of them would say a word. The last thing he needed was for Cruz to catch wind.)

“Not funny, man. It's starting to become a habit,” Derek said, leaning heavily against Aaron, chest to chest. He let his thumb slip gently over the scar, the raised flesh strange and new. Aaron didn't flinch. “A bad one.” Aaron smiled, and for the first time in a week his stomach didn't hurt.

After that point, no one seemed to pay them any attention, they'd all turned back to their own conversations. Penelope had games and drinks, much more interesting things than two middle aged men exploring years of pent up feelings that were suddenly raw and exposed thanks to a medical emergency. As people began to shuffle out, Penelope realized she hadn't seen Derek or Aaron in a while but she says her goodbyes first, didn't want to draw attention to it. She just hoped they hadn't found their way to her bed. With a sigh of relief, she found them sleeping soundly on the couch. Derek's empty wine glass hung limp in his hand, his arm around Aaron's shoulder, holding him close. She smiled, figuring she'd just let them be, it was late and they were clearly exhausted, they could stay as long as they liked and maybe, if she got lucky, she'd get to make Aaron a birthday breakfast. Getting the opportunity to actively celebrate his birthday was so exciting she could hardly contain her glee while she locked up and shut off the lights, ready to turn in herself.

3am was a time Aaron was familiar with, especially over the last few weeks. Something in that hour pulled at the threads of his conscious, woke him in a cold sweat. He was uncomfortable, his back arched a little too deep and he couldn't quite sit up, his muscles couldn't take the strain. Grappling with the back of the couch and feeling like a beetle on its back, he grunted and tried to shift. Hips twisting, drawing in sharp breath he struggled against his own body's frustrating inability to move. Derek pressed his hand behind Aaron's shoulders, helped him draw himself up to sitting without ever opening his eyes. He waited for the pained grunts and whimpers to stop before cracking one eye open, looking at the man sitting beside him.

“I should go,” Aaron whispered, yawning. He wanted to stretch, but thought better of it, arching his back would be a mistake. Derek smiled and sat himself up beside the other man, rubbing at his eyes. Penelope had left the twinkle lights on for them and he could hear her soft snoring from behind her beaded curtain. He loved that woman to bits.

“Penelope will kill you if you leave now, I bet she's locked us in,” he said gravely. “C'mon, stay with me.” Derek stood up and slipped to the closet and back with a pile of blankets and pillows, pulling Aaron down beside him on the couch. They didn't exactly fit, but that was part of the appeal. There, squished together on the couch, proximity was everything. He let Aaron shift and squirm until he found a comfortable position and spread the blankets over them, tucking them in around the corners, under their socked feet. “Happy Birthday,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Aaron's temple.

He couldn't be sure in the dark, but he liked to imagine that Aaron smiled in response.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jessica brooks #penelope garcia #david rossi #hurt hotch #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #mortch #hotchgan

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vintagedolan · 3 years

Text

mixtape | track twelve

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Indy wondered why people in her life seemed to fixate on sunshine, as if it somehow fixed things. When she and Charlie were small and the sun was out, her parents were ushering them outside to get some fresh air, telling them it was good for them. Her first day of high school, when she was nauseous in the passenger seat at the thought of a new place with a new class schedule, her dad had said ‘at least it’s warm today’. The day of Nicole’s funeral, between the sympathetic smiles and awkward glances, Indy had lost count of the amount of people who commented on the beautiful sunshine outside that her mother wasn’t there to see. It grated on Indiana’s nerves, and she found herself enjoying the rainy days more in the years after her mother’s death, when the clouds were heavy and wet, booming with thunder she could feel shaking her floor. She sat at her windows and watched it fall, watched the world have to shift to accommodate a change in the sky, change in a way that it never did for her when she needed it to.

The week before Bekah died, it rained every day.

Monday marked seven days without treatment, and the effects were starting to show. Bekah had lost more weight, which Indy wasn’t even sure was possible. She kept her blankets on her at all times, the Christmas and Halloween ones layers on top of each other.

She still shivered.

The rain fell outside the window, and Indy sat on the sill, thankful for the cold glass against her arm. It kept her in the moment, kept her mind in the room instead of in Los Angeles, wondering what was going through Grayson’s head that made him continue to ignore her calls. She didn’t have the energy to be pissed at him for leaving her abandoned - instead she was just worried, worried about the guilt she knew would overtake him when she finally was able to get ahold of him.

Indiana’s schedule was PRN - meaning they only called her into the hospital when she was needed. She couldn’t tell if they actually did need her and were too nice to say, or if they were fully staffed, but they didn’t call her. Patrick had put his foot down with her hours at Jet’s too, and said he’d keep her on payroll as long as he could so she kept her benefits, but that he wasn’t putting her on the schedule either.

So she put her skills to use for Bekah, and Bekah alone. Anything she needed, Indy knew where to get it on the floor. She funneled every ounce of energy into the girl in front of her, trying to take any of the burden off the Newcombs that she could. If Bekah needed ice chips, she was at the nurses station. In the supply closet to get fresh linens, the laundry to get clean hospital gowns. She helped her get changed, get showered as best she could - it was less mortifying for Bekah to have Indiana help her than her parents, who were nervous enough they would hurt her as it was.

When Bekah was awake, she was trying. Putting on her brightest smile, doing her best to perk up for her parents and Indiana. But when her parents would leave, which wasn’t often - only to go get fresh clothes, or grab dinner in the cafe - Bekah would deflate. She’d sigh and lean back against her pillows and try to catch her breath. They went home that night to eat a real dinner with promises to bring some back for Bekah, and as soon as they kissed her goodbye, she relaxed back and closed her eyes. Indiana watched her for a moment, and reached out to hold her hand.

“It’s okay Beks. They know you’re tired, you’re allowed to show it.”

“Says you,” she muttered. “Haven’t seen you sleep since I went off meds.”

Indy swallowed. “I sleep when you sleep.”

“Liar.”

“How do you feel?” She changed the subject.

“Like I’m dying.”

Indy choked, and Bekah laughed dryly. “C’mon, that was a good one. And don’t say it isn’t, cause you know I’m right.”

It took all of Indy’s strength not to try to coat it all in some toxic positivity, tell her it wasn’t that bad, that she would feel better, that she would get better - the things she’d been telling her all the years she’d known her.

They weren’t true, and she had to be okay with that.

“I really do think it’ll be this week,” Bekah said, picking at balls of lint on her blanket.

“Why do you think that?” Indy kept her tone as neutral as she could.

“I feel it. Feels… different. I want to go in my sleep, if I can. Think it’ll be easier for everyone that way. Is there a way to make that happen?”

Indy put on her hospital smile. “That’s usually how it goes babe, when you let someone go naturally. Your body gets tired, and you sleep, and then you go.”

She pondered on that for a moment, sat with it, and then she nodded, firm and confident.

“Okay. Good. That’ll be good.”

Indy hoped that one day she could have half the bravery of the girl sitting in front of her, with her thin arms and her purple head scarf, her small smile and stern gaze.

“Can we have milkshakes? And watch some of Grayson’s videos before my parents get back?”

Indy swallowed. “Of course. I’ll go get them, you rest.”

She was glad she could pull strings - the kitchen was usually closed to requests after dinner, but Daniel downstairs was always nice when she called. Sure enough, by the time she’d swiped through all the doors and made it to the kitchen, he had two vanilla milkshakes with extra whipped cream, and sprinkles on Bekah’s.

“Thanks D!”

“You’re welcome other D,” Daniel smiled. The hole in Indy’s chest rubbed raw, and she turned quickly before he could think he did something wrong. She breathed, timed her inhales with her steps as she traversed the halls.

It didn’t help, because when she walked into Bekah’s room she heard him.

Only this time, we’re getting sinus surgery

“Ooo, sprinkles!” Beks smiled and reached out a hand, waiting for Indy to pass her the milkshake.

She did, and she settled next to her on the bed with her own, leaning just far enough back so that Bekah couldn’t see her face.

The videos were always harder. He was still all over her social media, pictures and screenshots and people tagging the two of them on tea pages. He was still in her phone too - the outgoing calls, the photos in her camera roll. But the videos were the worst, because it was him. His mannerisms, his eyebrows that curved when he talked, his tongue that peeked through his smile when he laughed just hard enough.

She watched anyways, let the ache fester and make her feel something. She stared at his sunburnt nose, and listened to him talk about his once deviated septum that they didn’t actually fix - he still snored loud enough to wake her up some nights. She missed it.

Bekah laughed at every funny comment the boys made under their anesthesia in the video, and it was music to Indy’s ears, heartwarming enough for her to be able to stomach watching. By 15 minutes in, Bekah had abandoned her milkshake, the whipped cream dissolving down into the ice cream as her head lulled onto Indy’s shoulder and she fell asleep.

With a shaky hand, Indy checked her pulse.

Slow, but steady.

She turned off the TV.

In California, the fight didn’t start until Tuesday night. The house had been full of tension for almost a week, and the usual LA sunshine didn’t help to lighten the mood.

Grayson had become a recluse. He’d fallen back on the earlier method of locking his phone in a box in an attempt to save his sanity, which was even more fragile from the doom scrolling he’d found himself doing as people speculated every single detail of his life online. The black metal cube sat on a table in the living room, and he only saw it on the few occasions that he ventured out to the kitchen for food.

Even in his limited excursions, he felt the awkward energy radiating from his twin and Eden. They’d had their spats in the past, just like any couple, but there was something different about this one that had Grayson glad he was out of the room when Eden finally cleared her throat and looked at her boyfriend.

“Are we gonna talk about this?”

Ethan picked at a scab on his forearm - he’d been longboarding again as an excuse to get out of the house.

“Talk about what?”

“Talk about why we aren’t talking,” she huffed. “You’re mad at me.”

“Correct,” Ethan said.

“Tell me why then.”

He looked at her incredulously. “You have to ask?”

Eden swallowed down her anger, knowing it wouldn’t help anything. She waited. They sat in stalemate for a moment and she watched it boil up in Ethan before he sighed and turned in his chair towards her.

“Being hateful to me when you’re upset is one thing, because I signed up for that. But to my brother? When he’s doing pretty much as bad as I’ve ever seen him? Not okay. At all.”

“Ethan-”

“And I’m all for the tough love approach or whatever, but that was fucked up. He was just starting to do a little bit better and now look at him.”

“Better? You thought that was better?”

“He was eating at least, and still trying to work a little bit. Now, he’s barely able to do the podcast, much less anything else.”

“You all were already going to cut the main channel, that’s not because of this,” she argued.

“I’m talking everything else Eden. The businesses. Figuring out what the fuck we’re gonna do. He said the other day we could split time between here and Jersey, which really means here and New York if we only do the podcast.”

“And he didn’t think of that as an option before he broke up with Indiana? Makes sense.”

Ethan ignored her and kept going.

“At least he’s thinking about the future, which is better than before. I need him. But I need him, and you yelling at him set him back to square one.”

“If you thought he was even close to out of square one you’re blind.”

“Don’t act like you know my fucking twin better than I do,” Ethan snapped, and if it wasn’t for the protective nature in his tone, Eden would have lost it.

“Ethan.” She waited until he looked up at her, and she saw some of the anger leave his eyes when they met her. “He wasn’t getting better, because he was holding on. Fuck, he still is!”

“Telling him to let go isn’t going to make him let go! Have you met him? He’s the most stubborn fucking person on the face of this fucking earth! He already wants to go back, he’s not gonna let go!”

She could think of one person that could rival him for the title, but she kept it to herself.

“He’ll do it if he thinks he’s doing it for her,” Eden explained. “Don’t you see that? That’s why he did all of this. In his head, somehow, he thinks he’s doing what’s best for Indy. But he fucked her over, royally.”

“He knows that,” Ethan said.

“Okay, great! But he has to let go of her, because she won’t. Indy is an optimist if I’ve ever fucking met one, and she will always hope that he’s gonna come back, so he can’t do anything to feed into it. That’s torture, for both of them. And they both deserve better than that.”

Ethan couldn’t find a grip hold for an argument - one of the many reasons he hated arguing with Eden. So he sat in silence for a moment and accepted his defeat.

“You didn’t have to call him a moron,” he added.

“Anyone who let’s Indiana Cross slip through their fingers is a moron,” she muttered, shoulders relaxing as she realized the fight was over. “But yeah, that was probably a little harsh. I’ll apologize for that one.” She sighed, glad that everything was out on the table for the time being, smiling when Ethan patted his thigh once for her to sit on. She climbed up and nuzzled into his neck - she’d missed being so close to him the last few days. She soaked in the moment, running her fingers over the neck of his henley.

“Is it weird that I miss her? I mean, I know I haven’t known her very long, but she really felt like part of the family.”

“I miss her too,” Ethan sighed, pressing a kiss to Eden’s temple.

She pondered her apology to Grayson as she relaxed into his arms, but it was futile.

Grayson had been listening, standing in the hallway outside his door.

There were no tears; just an overwhelming numbness that had settled over him in the last few days. Eden’s words were the final nail in the coffin - he couldn’t reach out to Indy, though it got more and more tempting each day. He’d promised not to hurt her more than he already had, and he was going to stick to his word. Someone important had taught him that.

He retreated to his room and sat on the edge of the bed before he spoke.

“Hey dad.”

He always waited, just for a moment. Just in case. The silence was always loud, but it was deafening as he curled in on himself, staring down at the grains of wood in the floor.

“Dad I think I really fucked up this time,” he whispered. He willed the tears, but they didn’t come, though his eyes still burned. “I wish you were here. I wish you could have met her.”

As he sat, he remembered what his dad had said in those last few days, in the few hours that he was awake, when he fought off the pain and the fatigue to be there for his kids and his wife. I’ll always be there, you can always talk to me. Just say whatever you would if I was right there beside you, cause I will be.

So he did. He spoke as if he could feel the weight of his dad on the bed beside him, feel his arm around his shoulder.

Grayson sat on the edge of his bed and told Sean everything about the girl that he still loved. Her intelligence, her laugh, her smile, the way he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to love someone else. He lost track of how long he talked, run on sentences and gestures that only made it more obvious that his dad wasn’t there to tell him to slow down and take a breath before he talked himself into a pump from his inhaler. When he ran out of words, he did the only thing he knew to do when all else went wrong; turned his shower on as hot as he could stand it, sat down on the bench so the water ran over him, and thought of Indy.

The storm rolled into the city on Wednesday - unprecedented and angry, snarling the clouds in swirls of dark, heavy gray and dumping down over the skyscrapers of New York.

Indiana was watching the monitors. Her eyes jumped with each pulse of Bekah’s heart, which was beating faster than her usual. Her blood pressure was low, her breathing more irregular. Indy could see the textbook page in her head - actively dying. She’d learned the vital signs to look for, and how to fix them, what medicines to push.

But she wasn’t supposed to be making Bekah better, and that was the hardest part.

Thunder shook the room, and Bekah shivered. Mrs. Newcomb wrung her hands, and her husband ran a hand along her shoulders.

“She hasn’t woken up all day,” she murmured.

“She’s resting baby, it’s okay.”

Bekah’s monitors began to beep a bit faster. Her heart rate slowly rose - 82, then 85, then 90. Indy watched, her nerves prickling, eyes darting to the clipboard at the end of her bed, with DNR in bright red block letters - do not resuscitate. Bekah whimpered, her head turning into her pillow as her breathing got quicker, her heart working in overtime to try to keep her body afloat.

Mrs. Newcomb rushed to her daughter’s side, running a hand over her cheek as she began to cry.

“Bekah, sweetheart breathe, just breathe baby, don’t go yet, don’t go,” she pleaded, and Indy bit back her cries. Two nurses showed up in the doorway, waiting. There was nothing they could do but watch, and answer questions if they were asked.

Bekah’s father turned to the corner.

“Indiana, Indiana what’s happening to my baby?” He cried. It was enough to break Indy out of her trance, and she moved over to the bedside, resting a hand on Bekah’s leg.

“Her body is trying to decide what to do. It’s tired, and with her blood pressure going down, her heart is work harder to move her blood around. That’s why it’s faster,” she explained. “She’s not in pain right now, her medicine should still be working. It probably just feels a bit scary.”

Mr. Newcomb took her hand, and squeezed. Indy looked back to the monitors, unable to bear looking down at Bekah. She watched the blips on the monitor start to regulate again, sinus rhythm reappearing, allowing both of them to breathe easier. Bekah groaned a bit and settled into her covers, and a broken sob made its way out of Mrs. Newcomb’s throat.

“I need a minute,” she said, and then she was headed for the door with a hand over her mouth. It was the second time she was sick that day. Mr. Newcomb took her to the cafeteria to get a Sprite, and Indy took her usual spot, perched on the edge of Bekah’s bed. She took her hand, tensing a bit with how cold it was. She rubbed it, bringing it up to her lips to blow warmth into her palm as best she could.

Bekah stirred, and her eyes opened for the first time in many hours.

“Hey,” Indy said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

“What was all that noise?” Bekah’s voice was croaky, but she shook her head when Indy offered her a drink of water.

“Your monitors. They’re loud aren’t they?”

“Yeah. Annoying as hell,” she mumbled, then opened her eyes a bit wider, scanning the room for her mother.

“Language,” Indy teased.

“Why were they going off?”

It took all of Indy’s strength not to lie.

“Your heart rate picked up because your blood pressure went down. That’s something that happens…”

“Oh. It means it’s getting close isn’t it.”

Indy nodded and squeezed her hand. Bekah took a moment to process, and then she turned her head back to her friend.

“Is Grayson here yet?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Well, he better come soon if he wants to see me. Tell him to hurry, since I’m dying and shit.”

“Language,” Indy whispered it so her voice didn’t crack. Bekah played with the edge of her blanket.

“Am I supposed to be scared?”

“There’s no right or wrong way to be right now Beks. You just do what you need and feel how you feel, and we’ll be here the whole time, okay? We’re right here.”

“You need to not be here,” Bekah said, and Indy’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh.”

“You need sleep, and a shower. I won’t die while you’re gone if I can help it. Promise.” She wrapped her pinky around Indy’s as best she could.

Before she could refuse, the Newcombs appeared back through the door, delighted to see their daughter awake. She sat up a bit straighter in bed and put on her best smile, Indy’s heart tightening at the sight.

“Go,” Bekah whispered through her smile. She squeezed her hand one more time, and then let go, walking up to Mrs. Newcomb.

“I’m gonna go get freshened up and grab some clean clothes, but will you text me if anything changes? I live right down the street, so I can be back here really quick,” she explained, trying to ignore the growing look of pity in her eyes.

“Of course dear. But you go home for the night, we’ll be alright. I’ll call you if anything changes, you need your rest. You’ve been here so long, have a night of normalcy at home and come back fresh tomorrow, okay?”

Indy nodded - it was all she could do. She blew Bekah a kiss and walked out the door, pausing when she noticed something had changed.

A small blue heart had been placed by her room number - a signal that made Indy’s heart sink. Bekah was officially dying, and it was there for every nurse and visitor on the unit to see, to signify they needed to respect privacy and be quiet when they were close by.

It made no sense, for that to be her breaking point. She’d known. She’d seen it, in her vitals and her demeanor and the fact that just their conversation was enough to have her ready to sleep for another 8 hours.

But that little blue heart was her undoing, and she clutched her chest for the entire walk out of the hospital, down the stairs and out into the pouring rain. The thought of her empty apartment, with no Grayson and no Charlie and no Devin was too much - instead, she found herself running down the sidewalk past the lobby to the parking garage, shoes sloshing with water by the time she made it under the concrete.

The valet didn’t ask questions when she passed over her key, shivering as she waited for him to bring her car out. As soon as she climbed in she hit the gas, ready to drive somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t her home. The road was blurry despite the rapid back and forth of her windshield wipers, but she trudged on, just coherent enough to keep her tires between the white lines as she fled the city. The river was swollen when she drove over the bridge into Jersey, and she let herself zone out, let her mind take her wherever it wanted to go.

She knew where she would end up.

The crunch of gravel was familiar under her tires when she turned off the winding road. It was a comforting sound, though it was muffled by the rain, and it wasn’t until she was close enough to the white house to see that the kitchen light was on that she realized what she was doing.

She put the car in park, ready to shift it to reverse until a small figure appeared on the front porch, waving her inside.

Her earlier words rang in her ears. My door is always open.

She hoped it was true as she flung her car door open and bolted for the protection of the porch.

Lisa was waiting for her, standing in her pajamas with worry written all over her face.

“Indiana? Sweetheart, are you okay?”

All Indy could do was sob. She hated it, and the voice in her head berated her over and over, reminded her she had no place there anymore, that she was putting Lisa in a terrible position. But the feeling of a mother’s arms around her wasn’t something she could fight against, and she crumpled into her and let herself be held.

“Shhh. Shhh, you’re okay,” she hummed, running a hand over Indy’s blonde hair that was soaking wet. “Let’s get you inside and get warmed up.”

Indy let herself be led in, shoulders relaxing a bit at the familiarity of where she was until she spotted Grayson’s work boots in the corner and recoiled back. Lisa sat her down in a chair in the kitchen and squatted down until they were eye level.

“Are you hurt?”

Indy shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Is everything okay?” Her tone gave away that she already knew the answer, but Indy shook her head again anyways. Lisa patted her leg and sighed quietly, reaching up to brush some of her hair back.

“Does Grayson know you’re here?”

The squeak that escaped Indy’s lips was the only warning before she let out a sob so loud that Gizmo yelled in shock.

“I’m s-s-s-orry,” she choked, crumpling with her face in her hands.

“No, no no shhh, it’s okay sweetheart. It’s alright, you’re okay.” Lisa pulled her to her as best she could, rocking just barely as she held her.

“No, I shouldn’t have come, I don’t want to make things difficult for you with - him.” Indy couldn’t get herself to say his name and Lisa just shook her head.

“Babe I told you that I would be here for you no matter what, and I meant it, okay? I won’t tell him you’re here unless I need to. You can stay as long as you need, you hear me?” She used her thumbs to wipe at Indy’s tears, frowning at the dark circles she found.

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”

Indy’s silence was enough.

“Well, it’s late, and I think sleep is the first thing you need. We can talk tomorrow, but right now, you go up and climb into bed okay? They’re all made up, you can sleep wherever you’d like. Do you need anything, or do you remember where everything is.”

“I remember,” Indy whispered, taking in a shaky breath. “Thank you Li.”

“Of course. You’re a part of this family, always. Now, get some rest. You know where I am if you need me.”

She kissed her forehead and disappeared up the stairs. Indy wasn’t sure how long it took to get herself together and muster the energy to climb those same stairs, take a left into the room she’d been in so many times before.

It still smelled a bit like him, and she couldn’t help but to take a few deep breaths, closing her eyes and pretending he was right there, sprawled out in bed with the blanket held up for her like the first time she’d slept over. It was the same blanket when she opened her eyes again, and the thought of climbing into it without him waiting for her made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t look at the bed any longer, so she turned to the closet, sighing when she saw all the warm clothes that were far too much fabric for LA, even in the winter. It was almost unconscious, the way she found herself in front of his shirts, running her fingers over the various fabric until she landed on a familiar flannel. Checkered, with blue, white and black squares. Thick and warm, he’d worn it once when they went out to check on the progress of the tiny homes, and she’d woven her arms underneath it when she reached around him to hold on as he drove them through the trees.

Before she could stop herself, she snatched it off the hanger and pushed her arms through the sleeves, eyes prickling at the realization that she felt close to him for the first time in weeks, yet he was still so far away. She retreated back to the bedroom, grabbing one of the pillows and carrying it downstairs, all the way to the couch in the living room. The blankets were still in the basket in the corner, and she grabbed her favorite one before she curled up under it on the cold leather, pulling the flannel fabric up around her chin and closing her eyes.

In the kitchen, Gizmo turned on her perch and cocked her head.

“Dee,” she said, but Indiana was already asleep.

It was the best sleep she had in weeks - the peace of knowing that she wasn’t truly alone enough for her body to force her to catch up. Lisa was surprised to see her still curled up on the couch at 9:30 the next morning when she got ready for work as the rain continued outside. She watched her sleep for a few moments, heart tight at the way her eyebrows were still furrowed and her face buried in the collar of a shirt she was sure was her son’s.

She didn’t know the details, but she knew Grayson well enough to put together the pieces. But she also knew he wouldn’t let Indiana suffer this much if he truly knew how she was doing. It had to be bad if Indiana even considered coming out to the house, and it gave Lisa a level of mom anxiety she hadn’t had since the boys had picked up longboarding again. She wondered how he’d let it go on so long in the first place, and after a moment of debating, she scribbled down a note for Indy, went out to her car as quietly as she could, and called her son.

His phone sent her straight to voicemail. She tried again. Voicemail. With the third dial tone she couldn’t help the pit that grew in her stomach, an automatic mom reflex when your child is unreachable.

Instead, she called Ethan. It rang four times and then she heard a muffled groan and rustling before his voice came through the line.

“Ma, it’s 6:30 in the morning,” he grumbled, voice raspy and dry. “You okay?”

“Why isn’t your brother answering his phone? Are you two okay?”

Ethan sighed, annoyed. “He’s fine Mom, he’s just doing a detox from his phone. People were being shitty. He’s asleep down the hall, not dead in a ditch somewhere,” Ethan chuckled. Lisa wasn’t amused.

“Well, wake him up and un-detox him. He needs to call Indiana. Now.”

Ethan sat up in bed.

“Indy? Why, what’s wrong?”

“That’s for him to figure out. All I know is, she’s not doing well and he needs to call her. Now.”

“What happened?”

“Just make sure he calls her, alright? I’ve gotta get to work, I love you.”

“Alright, love you too.”

As soon as he hung up, he was on his feet, rushing down the hallway and throwing Grayson’s door open. He ran to the edge of his bed, shaking his shoulder until he groaned and opened his eyes.

“The fuck do you want,” he grumbled.

“You need to call Indiana, I just got off the phone with Ma. Something’s wrong.”

Grayson felt sick.

“What happened? Is she safe, is she okay?”

“I don’t know, you just need to call her.”

“You don’t know? You don’t know? The fuck do you mean you don’t know Ethan?” Grayson was yelling, but he was on his feet as he spoke, headed down the hallway in search of the lock box. He rummaged through the kitchen drawer until he found the key, hands so shaky it took three tries to unlock the metal contraption.

His phone was dead when he pulled it out, and it took all his willpower to keep from chucking it at the glass doors.

“Yours, give me yours.”

Ethan was a step ahead of him, already having Indiana’s contact pulled up. Grayson snatched it and hit the call button, heart pounding in his ears as he waited for her to answer.

Indy woke up to the buzzing of her phone against her arm where she’d tucked it the night before. Her eyes flew open - it must be Mrs. Newcomb, calling to tell her that Bekah had gotten worse. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes until she could read the name on her screen.

Ethan.

Her heart sank. She’d thought to call him more times than she wanted to admit, but she figured calling your ex's twin when said ex didn’t want to talk to you was crossing some moral line. Though as she sat on his mother’s couch, she figured it was time to get over the morals and do what she needed to do.

She swiped to answer.

“Dee? Are you okay? Are you safe?”

She couldn’t breathe. Her mouth opened and closed again as she tried to find something to say to the only person she’d wanted to talk to in almost three weeks. She hadn’t had time to prep herself, to give her heart a warning.

“Baby talk to me, tell me you’re okay,” he pleaded, and the pain in his voice was enough to snap her out of it.

“Grayson?” was all she could say.

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“No, no I’m okay, I’m fine.”

Grayson took a breath for the first time since she picked up the phone. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure what to say, the panic dissipating and leaving his brain blank. Luckily, she spoke.

“I’ve been trying to call you,” she said.

“I know. Indiana I’m sor-”

“It’s Beks.”

His heart skipped a beat, and the silence rang in his ears as he clutched onto the back of the couch. Ethan, who had been eavesdropping from the kitchen, moved closer. Grayson waited for her to speak, to say it so he didn’t have to ask.

“Is she-”

“No.” Indy’s voice broke. “But…”

“Oh god. Fuck. Fuck Indy.” His knees wobbled beneath him.

“She isn’t in any pain, we’ve been keeping her comfortable. But it’s probably gonna be in the next few days,” she whispered between sniffles, her voice squeaky and small as she fought to get the words out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have to tell you over the phone but... “ she trailed off. “She asked when you were coming to see her, and I didn’t know what to say.”

The tears were burning as they slid down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes closed, fighting the imagery of Bekah in her hospital bed, calling out for him.

“Indy-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say so I just said you’d be there soon. If you can’t come she probably won’t remember, but I just wanted you to know, in case you wanted to be here. To see her, before…”

“I’m coming. I’ll be right there okay? I’m going to the airport now, I’ll be right there.”

Indy was silent for a moment, her eyes flickering to the rain outside.

“Fly safe. It’s storming here.”

“I will. I’ll see you soon okay? Just hold on, I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

That sat in silence for a moment until Indiana finally hung up.

“I’m going with you,” Ethan said. He didn’t need context - all he knew is his brother needed him. Grayson nodded once, passed him his phone and headed straight for his room. He packed blindly, throwing things into his suitcase without bothering to fold them, just desperate to get on the road to the airport and get back to New York. Ethan was two steps behind him when he finally made it to the door, his phone pressed to his ear as he tried to explain the situation as best he could to a very worried Eden. Grayson loaded the bags as Ethan climbed into the driver’s seat, leaving the charger open for Grayson’s still dead phone. Ethan practically peeled out of the driveway towards LAX, the cab filled with silence apart from the hum of the engine and the quiet sniffles from Gray when his phone turned back on and he saw all the missed texts and calls from Indiana who had been trying so desperately to reach him. The guilt made him queasy, and Ethan’s driving didn’t help as he hopped lanes and sped on, praying no cops were on the road.

Grayson’s knee bounced impatiently as they waited in the line for parking, paying an astronomical amount seeing that they didn’t know when they would be back. Then they were running, dragging their bags behind them on the asphalt and beelining for the front desk. The attendants eyes went wide when they requested the next flight to New York at the exact same time. It wasn’t taking off for three more hours, much to their dismay, but they accepted it and headed towards security with their heads low and phones in hand.

The next flight doesn’t leave until around 10 but we’ll be on it. I’m sorry.

He watched the bubbles appear and disappear three times over, and then her response came.

nothing to be sorry for. I’m back at the hospital with her, she’s resting. I’ll keep you updated. the storm is still really bad here, please be careful

He wished he could reach out and hold her hand, ease her anxiety about his flight. He couldn’t imagine the emotion of that on top of everything else, so he said all he could think to.

I’ll be safe, and I’ll be there soon.

He typed I love you and deleted it before he sent it.

And then, it was a waiting game. The boys kept their hoods up and their heads down in hopes they wouldn’t be recognized. It seemed the universe was in their favor for the time being, no one bothering them while they waited, but it took a turn when their flight was delayed for weather not once, but twice, pushing their departure time to 2pm instead. He apologized again, agonizing over the thought of Indy sitting in the hospital by herself, but her response was the same.

she’s still resting, it’s okay. just be safe.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Ethan tried to reassure him, but he knew it was futile.

“I should have been there. I should have never left her in the first place Ethan, I’m an idiot.”

“You couldn’t have known this was going to happen. You told me she was getting better.”

He thought his brother was still talking about Bekah, and the queasiness returned.

“She was.”

They sat in silence as the hours crawled by. Ethan bought them lunch from a vegan salad shop down the terminal, even got his brother one of the protein coffee drinks he liked. Grayson picked at the lettuce and left it abandoned for his twin to finish. His only solace was his headphones that he kept pressed far into his ears with a constant stream of Cudi to keep him sane. After what felt like an eternity, they called for boarding. He texted her again to let her know he was on his way, and in a cruel play of the universe or whatever it was, Teleport 2 Me Jamie began to play.

His eyes were blurry as he followed Ethan to their seats, climbing in by the window and readjusting his hood so it folded around his face as much as it could, hiding. Ethan leaned forward and acted like he was reading the SkyMagazine he found in the back of his seat, shielding his brother from view as best he could.

They’d been on a flight like this before. January of 2019 - it had been raining that day too, but they had both been crying that day. So he stayed strong for his brother as best he could, got him a gingerale when the flight attendant passed by, and left Grayson alone.

Indy wished someone would talk to her. She wished Bekah would wake up again - it had been hours of silence apart from the beeps of her monitor and the footsteps of the nurses outside the door. It was never truly silent in a hospital after all. But she was glad that she slept despite the loneliness. She hoped it would mean that she had energy for when Grayson made it to the hospital.

Grayson.

Her brain didn’t have the space to process that he would be there in the next six hours. His text that said he had boarded barely even registered in her mind, but her body was aware. Her anxiety picked up ten fold, her leg bouncing until it cramped, her lungs tight and fingernails bit down to the nail beds. The rain was relentless, as if the city were drowning already and it decided to add more for the fun of it, to watch the humans run around like ants in their multicolored raincoats. The universe was sick that way.

Mr. Newcomb returned from the nurses station where he’d insisted on dropping off some cookies he’d bought at the store. He was quiet as he came into the room, eyes on his daughter until he finally peeled them away to look at Indy.

“Do you think she’ll be asleep a little while longer? We were hoping to take some of her clothes home and wash them, so she has her choice from all her favorites for the next few days.”

“I think so. My… friend is coming later. Her other buddy, from the program. We’ll keep her company if you guys need to eat and get some sleep for a few hours. I can text you if anything changes.”

“I’ll see if I can convince Martina to get some shut eye I will,” he laughed, giving Indy a grateful smile and taking one more glance at his girl before he gathered her laundry and left. It only hit Indiana when he stepped out that she had never known Martina’s name until then. Bekah’s father was named Tarin, she knew that much. But she’d never even gotten to a first name basis with Martina. In all the years they’d known each other, and all the hours in hospital rooms and tears shared, she’d never been anything but Bekah’s mom to Indy. It wasn’t uncommon for Indiana to keep mom’s at an arm’s length from her. A protective mechanism she’d never consciously implemented, but it prevailed nonetheless.

She wondered if Bekah would have wanted to be a mom someday. When she was 13 she’d insisted that men were trash and that she’d never get married even if she made it through all her cancer, but as she’d gotten a bit older she loved to talk about all her celebrity crushes. Indy looked in her side drawer and smiled when she found the little picture of Harry Styles she’d given her during her last round of treatment - she’d taken it with her to every room since.

Indy paced the room, her anxiety to high to allow her to sit. She thought of Grayson on a plane somewhere, the metal tube rocking in the sky, cutting through the clouds. When she would get to the window she’d look up, hoping to see the lights from the wing of a plane somewhere, hoping it was his and that it was coming down safely.

She paced for two more hours before her phone buzzed.

Landed. I should be there in about 40. She still asleep?

Indy took in her first deep breath in hours.

yeah, she’s still out. I’ll meet you in the ocean hallway so you don’t have to buzz in, just text me when you’re close.

Will do.

Ma is picking us up so as soon as we get out we’ll head straight there

Ethan is with me but he’s just gonna go home with her for now

sounds good

She didn’t have much to say, her stomach fluttering against her will. Her emotions were too unbalanced for her to even know what was happening. Excitement, and fear and grief and anxiety and anger and confusion, all at once somehow. She wrapped her arms around herself to try to hold it together and went back to pacing.

Grayson was soaked by the time he made it into Lisa’s car, scurrying into the backseat and barking out directions harsher than he meant to.

“I already have it in the GPS. Calm down,” Lisa said, giving Ethan a side eye in the passenger seat.

“Sorry,” Grayson muttered, ringing his hands.

“S’alright babe,” Lisa sighed, reaching an arm back to pat his leg where she could reach. They drove in silence, listening to the rain smack against the roof and the windshield until Ethan spoke up.

“Did Indy call you? Is that how you knew something was wrong?” He asked Lisa. He hadn’t said anything, but he was worried too.

Lisa debated it for a moment, and then she sighed.

“She was upset, and she needed to get in touch with Grayson,” was all she said. “The rest of it, she can tell you.”

Gray didn’t have the energy to be annoyed. Every ounce he had was involved in the visuals flipping through his mind like a viewfinder; Indy in the ocean hallway, Bekah and her halloween blanket, the tiny homes, Indy’s tears in the airport. He hadn’t imagined that the next time he saw her would be like this. He wanted it to be different. Better. He wanted everything to be better.

When they finally made it to the hospital, Lisa pulled to the curb and turned to her youngest son with a serious look.

“You take care of her, but you take care of you too, okay? I love you.”

Grayson’s nose burned and he nodded once before he ducked out into the rain.

Indy stopped walking, and breathing, when her phone buzzed again.

Here. Omw up

She liked the message, fixed Bekah’s blankets and headed out into the hallway and through the doors. The smiles of the marine life were haunting as she waited for any sign that he was close.

Her head whipped up when she heard the familiar clammer of the far doors being pushed open.

He was wearing his yellow Cudi hoodie, but it was the wrong color. The fabric was darker than she remembered, darker than the picture she had of him in it, the one she’d taken in Jet’s once. It didn’t process that it was because it was wet until he was halfway down the hall. His hair was a bit longer than it had been, without Lisa there to trim it up. And his beard was full and scruffy and dark, hiding away his jaw line. She could still tell that his teeth were clenched though, his nerves palpable as he got closer and closer to her.

His shoe squeaked when he stopped in front of her. Neither of them breathed for a moment. They just stared at each other. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets to keep himself from hugging her, from crossing a boundary that he wished he’d never set.

“Hi,” he said.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Hey. How was your flight?”

“Long, but not too bumpy.”

Another painful beat of silence.

“How is she?”

“She’s still asleep, but we can wake her up. Meds are coming soon, just stuff to keep her comfortable. Her vitals are still okay, she’s just a bit groggy. But she’s excited to see you.” Indy offered him a small smile, and it had his knees ready to give out beneath him.

“And you? Are you okay?” He asked.

Indy’s smile faded, and she looked at the jellyfish.

“That doesn’t matter right now. C’mon, let’s go see her.”

Indy used her badge to swipe into the door, but Grayson’s throat was too tight to ask her about it. Instead he just followed her down the familiar hallway, trying to avoid the looks of pity from the nurses who recognized him.

Indy caught his wrist before he walked into the room.

“I didn’t… she doesn’t know about… us. I didn’t want to upset her, and it never really came up. I’m sorry,” she whispered. She sounded ashamed, but all Grayson could focus on was the feeling of her hand on his skin again, even if it was just a few fingers.

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“Okay.”

Indy walked into the room, the most hesitant that Grayson had ever seen her.

Beks looked cold. Even cuddled under her blankets she looked like she was freezing, and Grayson had trouble breathing. Indy went to the side of her bed, ran her thumb across her cheek and over to her shoulder where she squeezed gently.

“Beks, hey. Bekah,” she used her most gentle voice until the youngster stirred. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Grayson pulled it together in the last moment before Bekah opened her eyes.

“Earrings,” she sighed, a small smile on her lips. It was the most expression Indy had seen all day. “You made it.”

“Of course I did sweet girl,” he chuckled to hide his pain, moving beside Indy and crouching down so Bekah could see him easier. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“S’okay. We all know you’re slow,” she teased. “Hey, no tears. No crying in Bekah’s room.”

He hadn’t even realized he was until she said it, and he used his hoodie to wipe his eyes.

“Sorry Beks. Just missed you is all.”

“Yeah, well we missed you too. Did you convince my parents to go home?”

“Yeah,” Indy answered. “They’re getting some rest and bringing you some clean clothes.”

“Mmm, good. I think that black hoodie is a good one to die in,” she said, body shaking just barely with a laugh that turned into a cough.

“Pardon the death jokes, you’ll get used to them,” Bekah smiled at Grayson and the shock on his face once her throat cleared enough.

He thought of Sean, how he had pretended everything was fine until the very end, and he smiled.

“Don’t you think a black death hoodie is a little on the nose?” He said, and Bekah laughed. It sounded the most like her real one since she’d been off her treatment, and it warmed Indy’s soul.

“Fair point. Maybe I should go with blue. You think someone will let me into heaven if I’m in blue or will I just blend in with the sky?”

“I don’t think anyone has to let you in,” Indy said with a laugh, crouching down next to Grayson. Their knees bumped together. “Pretty sure you just end up there.”

“I hope so. There’s no one there to find me anyways.” The playful edge was gone from her voice, and Grayson frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m the first one. I mean, I guess my grandma is up there but I never knew her. Everybody always talks about how their family will be there, when they go.” She paused, taking a few deep breaths to get her energy back. She hadn’t talked so much in days, and her heart rate was rising from the exertion of it. The pair waited patiently, giving her the time she needed to finish her thought.

“I don’t have anyone to die for, anybody waiting on me. I gotta find my way in there alone.”

The innocence of it was enough to rip Indy’s heart in half, and she couldn’t find the comforting words that she wanted to give. But Grayson cleared his throat.

“You won’t be alone. I know of at least two people who will be right there waiting for you.”

She perked up a bit, eyes opening wider from where they’d started to close. “Really?”

“Yeah. My dad. He looks kinda like me, but shorter, with a better beard. His name is Sean.”

Bekah smiled. “Whose the other one?”

“A tall blonde lady named Nicole. Indy’s mom. Looks just like her, you won’t be able to miss her. They’ll help you, and keep you safe.” The sincerity in his voice was enough for Indy to realize he desperately wanted it to be true. She turned her head to hide her tears, clinging onto the bed rail to keep herself steady.

“That sounds nice,” Bekah breathed, her eyes slowly closing. “You all want me to tell them anything, when I get there?”

It was Grayson’s turn to lose his voice.

“No babe. We can tell them when we get up there.” Indy answered after a moment too long.

“That better not be for a long time. I gotta have some entertainment. Watch you all grow up and get married and have kids. You better name one after me too,” she sighed, her voice getting quieter as her heart sped up.

“You bet,” Grayson said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead as her breathing slowed and evened out again. It was slower than it should be, and Grayson realized his own breathing was fast… too fast. He brought a hand to his chest, then his other to cover his mouth and keep himself quiet.

“Shh, shhh hey, you’re okay, here, c’mon, you’re okay.” Indy’s voice was in his ear, her arms under his to try and guide him up to his feet, then out to the hallway. She held his arm and pulled him over into a supply closet that she swiped into, letting the door shut behind them.

“Breathe Grayson. It’s okay, just breathe.”

He fell to pieces in her arms, his back curled painfully so he could bury his face in the crook of her neck and sob. They were ugly sounds, wet and snotty and raw and she didn’t care. She just held him together as best she could with her small hands, let him relax into her and get it out of his system. His shoulders stilled eventually, but his arms stayed locked around her like a vice.

Neither of them moved until the motion sensor light clicked off, covering them in darkness.

They didn’t speak. They untangled themselves and let the light turn back on before they headed back into the hallway as if nothing had happened, back into Bekahs room. Her heart rate was perpetually high now, fighting to keep the blood pumping.

Another sign that the end was coming soon.

Indiana and Grayson sat down on the couch beside each other, just close enough for their shoulders to graze occasionally when they shifted. Indy watched the monitors and Grayson watched her, reading her expressions as best he could over what felt like an eternity. He looked at all the things he’d missed - the freckle by her ear, and the baby hairs that sat by her temple and never seemed to grow.

It could have been minutes, or hours. No one was sure. But eventually Indy’s posture slumped slightly, and with a final sigh she leaned over to the left, her head resting on Grayson’s shoulder.

He stopped breathing, only allowing himself shallow inhales that left his torso perfectly still so she could rest. He didn’t know how to feel, and against his will his eyes prickled at the realization that despite the fucked up situation they were in, she was there, leaned against him. Beside him. Something he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get ever again. The way she shifted and mumbled in her sleep let him know she wasn’t comfortable, but he let himself be selfish for a few minutes and soothed her back down so she stayed, relished in the weight of her on him and resisting the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

He moved as carefully as he ever had to press a tiny kiss to her hair.

She sighed and settled down further in her seat, moving her head onto the back of the couch and freeing him.

The angle of her neck looked painful, and he scanned the room, noticing that they’d brought in two recliners, presumably for her parents. He stood up carefully and dragged the chairs away from the wall, lining them up like he had in his dad’s room. He hunted down a few extra pillows from the nurses, blankets too, and brought them in, making little makeshift beds for the two of them.

He felt guilt waking Indy up, but he didn’t want to pick her up without permission. Instead, he shook her shoulder gently until she stirred, panicking for a moment until she realized everything was okay. Her heart fluttered at the realization that Grayson was still there.

“Sleep over here, it’ll save your neck.” He nodded towards the chair and she stood up slowly, groggily moving over into one of them. She sighed as she settled in, exhaustion taking over. Grayson liked to think that she felt peaceful enough, safe enough to sleep because he was there, but he didn’t let himself believe it. So he simply moved her blanket up over her torso before he climbed into his own chair that faced the other way so they could see each other.

He watched her sleep for a moment, and then her hand moved just far enough down the arm rest. She wiggled her fingers until he got the message, slipping his hand into hers before he too fell asleep.

When they awoke the next morning, their hands were still intertwined, and Bekah’s parents were coming in the doorway. Indy woke up first, sitting up straight and squeezing Grayson’s hand.

“Grayson. Gray, hey, wake up.”

He grumbled until he was able to open his eyes, wiping his mouth with his hoodie sleeve as he came to and realized where he was. He was quick to stand, to introduce himself to Bekah’s parents with firm handshakes. His hair was a mess, and Indy bit her fingernails to keep from reaching out to smooth it out.

The day went by, measured by the heart rate monitor beeps that got quicker and quicker, and the rattling of Bekah’s breath as the fluid settled in her lungs. Martina and Indy changed her into her blue hoodie, and fixed her favorite scarf - one with tiny blue lightning bolts - over her head.

Indy and Gray didn’t have the energy or stamina to try to figure out where they stood, so they chose together, for the time being. She kept her arm wrapped around his, the way she used to when he walked her down the street. He traced over her fingers where she held onto him, chewing her lip while she watched her vitals grow worse and worse, all the red flags she would be trying to fix if that was the goal. Around 3pm, the nurse came into the room. The way Indy tensed was enough for Grayson to know something was happening.

“We’re gonna give her a bit more sedation to keep her comfortable. With the current levels of her vitals, it might slow her down enough to let her pass peacefully. There are no guarantees, but it is possible.”

Martina began to cry into her husband’s shoulder.

“So we should say our goodbyes then?” Tarin asked through a tight throat. The nurse nodded.

“We’ll administer it and then give you guys some privacy.”

“She won’t be in any pain, right?”

“No sir. It’ll just be like falling asleep.”

Indy watched as she set up her IV and stepped out of the room.

Grayson and Indy followed her out quietly, giving Bekah and her parents the moment that they needed. Indy’s breath was shaky, and she held tighter to Grayson as they waited in the hallway. He looked up towards the light in an attempt to stop the tears, and a few moments later, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was Martina, her eyes red and cheeks blotchy.

“You all are family. She would want you here with her.”

Grayson’s feet wouldn’t move until Indy guided him back into the room.

Bekah’s parents stayed on either side of her bed and held her hands while Indy and Grayson stood at the foot of her bed and watched her take her last breath.

Indy didn’t cry. She stood watch, only moving when the nurses came in to confirm time of death. She went and turned the monitors off, cutting the monotonous tone out abruptly as they removed Bekah’s IV. Grayson’s quiet sniffled and muffled sobs were almost enough to tip her over the edge, but she held it together. She hugged Martina, then Tarin, and then retreated into Grayson’s side yet again.

There wasn’t a signal, or anyone that told them it was time to go. But they found themselves outside in the hallway eventually, and they walked arm and arm. They signed out at the desk for the last time and walked out the doors of the pediatric oncology ward, through the ocean hallway and down the stairs.

The rain had stopped.

They walked the streets in silence, holding onto each other tightly as people passed them on the sidewalk, completely unaware of what had just happened to them. The world continued to turn, the city continued to bustle, and they continued to walk, one foot in front of the other until they made it to the elevator of her building.

Indy watched the numbers go by as it climbed. She didn’t say a word when they got to her floor, or through her door or over to her couch. Grayson sat down beside her and took his shoes off. She stared over his shoulder out the windows, an overwhelming numbness settling over her entirety.

“Indy, why don’t you take your shoes off,” Grayson whispered.

She didn’t look at him.

“Indy?”

He waited. The blues in her eyes were dark, and his heart sank. He knelt down and untied her shoes, sliding them off her feet gently. He took her socks off too - she hated sleeping in socks.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe, it’s okay,” he said, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. She swallowed hard, and that was enough for Grayson to justify picking her up and carrying her into her room. He sat her down and pulled her covers back before he got her into bed.

Once she was settled he stood up, waiting for just a moment before he spoke.

“I’ll be on the couch if you need me okay? I’ll be right here.”

Indy blinked hard, and then she shook her head.

Grayson went to his knees beside her in an instant, ready to do whatever she needed.

“Stay.”

That was all he needed. He circled around the bed and climbed in behind her, coiling his arm around her torso and crushing her back against him, pressing her into him everywhere he could. He willed himself to shield her, from the pain and the reality of what had just happened. He pressed a kiss to her hair and closed his eyes and he held his girl until morning.

#some of yall bout to be real mad at me #oop #PLS LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK :D #mixtape #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfiction

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jalapeno-princess · 3 years

Text

Coffee For Your Head

(He’s so pretty)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst with some fluff and a happy ending

Word Count: 7.1K

Summary: After an exhausting and frustrating day at work, all you want to do is go home and fall apart in your boyfriend’s arms. However, a comment that is meant to be a joke turns in to a full blown argument between you and Mark; causing you to storm out of your shared apartment.

A/N: Hey guys, so this week has been pretty shitty. I had to pay $700 to get my car fixed only to have someone steal my muffler (Hawaii is not the paradise everyone paints it out to be) but I’m not letting it get in the way of my life. Anyways, this imagine was inspired by that deathbed coffee for your head song but literally just the first verse (the song is actually so sad). I also have a couple of surprises for you all! The last and final chapter of crazy little thing called love is in the works, and I’ve decided to make a part 2 to “nobody compares to you” by popular request, so stay tuned. I’m also a few followers away from 700 that’s crazy!! Anyways, happy reading!

Never in the four years of your relationship has Mark ever felt like he didn’t want to look at you. Hell, there was never a time he wasn’t looking at you. From the moment Mark first laid his eyes on you, he was captivated by your beauty in ways he has never experienced before.

Some days, he had to force himself to stop admiring your breathtaking looks so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. After what took weeks of building up the courage to ask you out on a date, it didn’t take him long to realize that you were just as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside. He honestly felt as if he was the luckiest man on earth to be the one who was extremely blessed to love you.

Unfortunately, the two of you had your first actual fight just a few hours prior and he honestly wishes he could go back in time and keep his mouth shut so that the two of you wouldn’t have been in this disheartening situation. Although there were a few times the two of you would disagree and have a couple quarrels here and there, this was the first time you actually stormed out of your shared apartment out of anger and frustration.

He was well aware that he went too far tonight; Mark knew you like the back of his hand. Just by your posture and the way you slammed your bag down on the counter, he had a feeling something bad must have happened at work. You were a registered nurse at your local hospital and as much as you wish you could say being a nurse was everything you could ever hope and pray it would be; it was quite the opposite.

Sure, you had the honor of witnessing many miracles such as pregnancies, watching patients win their battles against cancer—just being able to help anyone in need were a few perks that came with being a nurse. However, being a nurse also came with great responsibility. There were lives on the line and just the simplest mistake; giving a patient the wrong medication, scheduling the wrong surgery or assigning the wrong diet could really affect the lives of those you were in charge of.

Being a nurse was very exhausting; you were constantly on your feet for eight to ten hours a day and there were many people, either the patients or family members of the patients who always felt the need to take out their stress and worry on you. Tonight had been one of the most tiring and stressful days at work and there was nothing more you wanted to do than to change in to your pajamas and fall asleep in your boyfriend’s warm embrace. It was obvious Mark had other plans.

Normally, whenever you came home so distraught and obviously shaken up, Mark would do whatever he could to comfort you and make you feel better. He didn’t understand what got over him tonight though—what started as a joke about you leaving the dirty dishes from earlier that morning in the sink as his way to cheer you up turned in to hours of yelling at each other and getting at each other’s throats.

You told him he was a selfish, egotistical asshole who didn’t care about anyone but himself and he called you an aggressive bitch who takes things too seriously. As soon as he saw tears falling from your cheeks while you yanked at your purse and your keys that were still on the kitchen counter before storming outside, Mark was well aware that he fucked up. You weren’t a sensitive person; you did cry occasionally when work could be too much for you to handle, when you felt home sick being 3,000 miles away from your family or if there was a sad scene in a movie the two of you watched together then yeah—you would shed some tears, but it was only natural.

When you guys did argue—if ever—you did tear up out of irritation; but you never allowed Mark to see how much your little disputes would hurt you because you didn’t want to feel vulnerable. He may have been your boyfriend, but you didn’t want him—or anyone for that matter, taking advantage of how timorous and fragile you were as a person. It took him a while to process that you actually left. He was too focused on the fight; there were so many things he believed he wanted to say to you in the heat of the moment, but he knew it was best that he didn’t.

Now that he was all alone in the apartment, he felt like complete and utter shit. He knew the entire fight could have been prevented if he had just kept his mouth shut. What came over him that he felt the need to make such a stupid comment? You weren’t all that familiar when it came to California seeing as how you would only go out for work, with friends or with Mark.

California was different at night; it’s was more dangerous and scarier, even for your boyfriend who has been living there his entire life. Seeing as how your family lived in New York and you hardly made any friends in the couple years of living in the relatively sunny state other than a couple coworkers, he had no idea where you could have run off to. For all he knew, you were at a bar getting drunk off of your ass and someone could have been taking advantage of you—or worse, you could have been driving and got in to a car accident because of how frustrated you were.

From what he experienced with being in the passenger seat while you drove, he had to admit you weren’t exactly the best driver. You had two of the worst qualities a driver could have—impatience and anger. Normally, you were calm and collective. Even if life as a nurse could get very hectic and frantic at times, not once in your three years of working at the hospital did you show that you were on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Mark never understood how you did it—but you were very good at managing your time and completing your tasks while under pressure. Your driving however was a completely different story. As much as he could only hope and pray you were somewhere safe, it wasn’t enough to stop the many negative thoughts and scenarios that his conscience came up with. Out of force of habit, he turned on the news to make sure nothing bad happened to you—God, why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut? If he just gave up his pride and took in to consideration the stress you were under, you’d be cuddling in his arms right now while the two of you watch reruns of Cake Boss—but instead, you were out driving in the freezing cold, alone and angry. He had no idea what he should do; even if he were to give in and admit his faults first, what good would it do? You were just as stubborn as he was.

Knowing your headstrong tendencies, there was a big chance you would leave his messages unread and let his calls go to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you though, if it were the other way around and you were the one trying to get in touch with him, Mark would’ve ignored your attempts entirely. His guilty conscience got the best of him only after ten minutes; he knew there was no way he’d be able to go to sleep without finding out your whereabouts.

Mark: Hey. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: I’m sure you’re still mad at me and my apologies probably mean jack shit to you right now but just know that I am really fucking sorry. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: You don’t have to return my calls, but do you think you could at least let me know that you’re safe? 11:58 p.m.

Mark: I didn’t mean anything I said—you know me better than I know myself baby. I would never do or say anything to purposely hurt you. Fuck, the last thing I ever want to do is upset you y/n. I’m sorry I’ve made you so sad. 12:03 p.m.

Mark: I love you so much y/n. Please come home soon. 12:03 p.m.

He tossed his phone somewhere on the floor before releasing a frustrating groan—where could you have gone? A lot of places were closed at this time of hour and he decided that since you were driving, there was no way you could be drinking. Any club or bar was immediately crossed off of his list. There was also no way you’d go back to the hospital; it was painfully obvious that something occurred during your shift that made your mood sour—so you probably didn’t want to get near the establishment until you had to return back to work in the morning.

Shit, that’s right.

You had another shift in less than eight hours, God, Mark really felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Knowing that there was a huge chance he wouldn’t be hearing from you any time soon, he decided to set up camp in the living room just in case you came back home and wanted to go straight to bed. He was also secretly hoping that you read his messages and forgave him; or at least felt a little less infuriated with him.

No matter how much he tried to take his mind off of you, there was nothing that could distract him. None of the many video games he owned nor the new unsolved mysteries series Netflix had to offer could ease his unsettling nerves. Something inside of Mark was telling him to go out and look for you, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Honestly, he wouldn’t even know where to start. California was huge—he’d probably drive in circles for hours.

The idea of getting in contact with his friends also popped in to his mind; you’ve grown close to his group of friends over the course of your relationship to the point where you could consider them all family. However, you were the kind of person who hated being a burden to others. You also didn’t want to involve anyone in your personal business unless you really had to.

All he could do was lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling; growing more and more irritated with himself as the minutes went by. Your disheartened facial expression was imprinted in the back of his mind—this was the first time you looked at him in a way other than lovingly and with so much adoration in your eyes. He hated it; hated himself even more.

He just really wanted you home safe.

Your boyfriend had no idea how long he was waiting for you; minutes felt like hours as he continued to lie on the couch, doing nothing. As soon as he heard the click of the door sound off, he abruptly sat up; not caring if he seemed too eager. He sincerely meant everything he said over text message—your health and your safety meant more to him than his stupid ego.

His heart began to race watching you walk in; there was nothing more he wanted to do than to run over to you and pull you in to his embrace while he repeatedly apologized for everything that he said and all the hurt he made you suffer through. For his inconsiderate actions, for not running after you, for allowing his pride and wanting to be the winner of the argument get in the way. But you looked so exhausted—so tired. Your body language spoke for you; it was evident that you were probably still hurt from his words and from what he learned with past experiences, you probably just wanted to go to sleep. He was curious if you got around to reading his messages or if you listened to his many voicemails.

His heart was begging him to get up and make his way over to you, but his mind didn’t want to make matters worse. Although he wanted to fix things immediately, he was going to wait for you to take control of the situation. You slowly took off your sandals and made your way in to the kitchen. The battle going on between his mind and his heart was currently consuming his thoughts; as much as he knew it would’ve been better to continue giving you his space, his heart had other plans.

You looked as though you saw a ghost when you heard him make his presence known and only then did Mark realize it was 2:15 in the morning. His chest hurt when he saw you tense up; he began regretting his decision. You obviously weren’t ready for reconciliation.

“What are you still doing up?”

You still had your back faced toward him, but he was going to take whatever he could get. Instead of continuing to ignore him, which is honestly what he felt he deserved, you actually responded to him. It had to be a good thing—right?

“I know you’re well aware that there was no way I’d be able to go to sleep knowing you were out all by yourself this late in a city you’re not all that familiar with. Especially because I was the reason. I—I was so worried.”

The tension in the room was thick; he was practically walking on eggshells while thinking about what to say next. You were the definition of a sensitive person and it was a trait of yours that Mark was still getting used to. It was the truth though—Mark cared about you more than he did anyone else on this hell forsaken earth. If something were to happen to you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. You were his person. That man would die for you if he had to. He found himself reaching out to you as a force of habit, but he retracted his hand as soon as he realized what he was doing.

“Can we—can we talk?”

You took in a deep breath and finally allowed yourself to turn around and face him. There was no way around this—you knew as you drove around that he would want to talk sooner or later. When you saw that he was still awake, you weren’t surprised. Being with him for all these years, you’ve grown to learn that Mark never allowed you to go to bed angry. He was the type to want to solve your problems before you were to fall asleep.

The idea of you crying yourself to sleep because of something he said made his heart hurt. Only once in your entire relationship did you go to bed without listening to Mark’s apologies and it was because you didn’t want to deal with the drama any longer. He felt extremely bad that entire day though and when you arrived home that night, there was a bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite cake from your favorite bakery and a stuffed animal all sitting on the counter.

Mark was going to make sure you knew just how sorry he was, even if it meant having to sleep on the couch tonight. You were much more calm than you were when you first stormed out. Right after the fight, you went straight to your car and sat in it for a while; allowing yourself to breathe and come to your sense before driving away. Then, you decided to go drive around the city until you pulled up to a 24-hour coffee shop.

The exhaustion from your extremely stressful day was finally taking over you; and since you planned to stay out for at least another hour or two, you were going to need something that would keep you from falling asleep—and what better than a caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso? To your delight, you were the only customer there; you didn’t want anyone witnessing your breakdown as you cried quietly to yourself while remembering Mark’s harsh words that he directed towards you.

Mark was the only good thing going for you in your life at the moment; all you wanted to do was collapse in his arms and have him comfort you—you wanted him to run his fingers through your hair while you were perched up on his lap, hiding your face in the juncture of his neck. Every single time you had a rough day, whether it was because of work, or something else going on in your life; but your boyfriend was really good at taking your mind off of any problems, worries or negative thoughts that you had.

Coming home, only to hear him complain about how you didn’t wash your cereal bowl made your blood boil. You were scolded by your manager for almost giving a patient the wrong medication and it was the mistake of your colleague in training—yet you didn’t have the heart to confess that it wasn’t your fault. You understood how intimidating it was for first and second year residents; you’ve been there before, so you were fine taking the blame for something that you didn’t do. However, hearing your manager insult you and claim that you were inadequate and had no idea what you were doing made you feel as if it were true.

The last thing anyone in the medical field wanted to hear was that they weren’t good at their job. You didn’t go through so many years of crying over how hard clinicals were on top of pulling all-nighters every single week there was a test or exam just for someone to make you feel like you had no clue on how to complete the tasks given to you. This was the first time you were scolded for something that you didn’t think was all that bad; the medication the patient was meant to take helped with soothing a sore throat. The one that the medical resident gave them had to do with decreasing heartburn—it wasn’t like it was a life or death situation.

Mark never did anything to upset you purposely; sure, he had a tendency to leave the toilet seat up every now and then and sometimes he would get crumbs all over the couch, but that was as bad as it would get. When he called you a bitch, it genuinely felt like a slap to the face. It physically hurt and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched in anger as he continued to say such hurtful things to you. At one point while you were drinking your coffee, it became bitter—which was odd considering how sweet it actually was and you found yourself no longer wanting to finish it.

Your argument with Mark was just taking up the entirety of your thought process that you were growing agitated with anything and everything. After reading his text messages and listening to a few of his voicemails, you didn’t know how to react. Mark Tuan was never the type to admit to his wrongdoings; he had so much pride and such a big ego—but not once did he ever use it towards you. You’ve watched the way he became ruthless while playing video games and said some things to his friends that you considered to be a joke; something he said to throw them off while being focused on winning.

Even at work, if he did something wrong, he’d never admit to his faults. That’s just who he was; so for him to say that he was wrong—that he didn’t mean a thing that he said and he shouldn’t have upset you at all gently pulled on your heartstrings and you found yourself throwing away the remainder of your beverage and making your way back to the apartment.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen once you were to walk in the door; he might have apologized, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was going to talk to you or apologize again in person. Your mind would not let you get any rest; it was currently in a battle with your heart—your stupid, stupid heart that belonged to the man that made you feel like you were wrong for having a bad day.

That—you had no right to lash out on him. You wished he would have heard you out first before attacking you for something so small and unnecessary; he could’ve washed the damn dishes himself if he was so bothered. But your heart wouldn’t stop telling you to forgive him. His job could get extremely frustrating sometimes. It might not have been as time consuming or energy draining as yours, but there were times where he would need you to hold him every now and then because his executives expected so much out of him.

He probably had just as much of a hard day as you did—maybe he came home pissed off from something that happened at work and noticing that there was dishes in the sink that he knew were there from this morning got on his nerves. You felt like he could have handled it better though and you couldn’t help but think like he was growing tired of having to be your backbone; having to comfort you almost every single day on top of his own problems. Your mind wouldn’t stop coming up with all these thoughts and lies you knew weren’t true and you were well aware that it was best to start heading back to your place knowing that you had to be up again in less than five hours.

Seeing him practically leap at the sight of you walking through the door sent so many emotions to your chest. You hated any time spent away from him—there were occasions where your schedules would collide and the only time you would see him was right before bed or if you were coming home from a graveyard shift while he was getting ready to leave for his job.

The dried tears on his cheek confused you; he was the one who caused all of the drama and he had no problem making you feel like you were overreacting and being too sensitive. You were upset with yourself for wanting to walk over towards him and wrap your arms around him—but it was only natural for you to want to do so.

For the entire duration of your shift, he was all you could think about; the thought of Mark was what kept you sane throughout the entire day. No matter how upset he made you, he was still the love of your life—your best friend, your favorite person, your soulmate. One fight wasn’t going to tarnish or falter your feelings for him in any way.

Arguments were considered healthy in a relationship; sure, you could have done without the harsh words being thrown back and forth to one another, but you realized in the coffee shop that you would rather bicker and disagree with Mark every now and then for the rest of your life, then to have a relationship filled with constant joy and laughter with someone else.

It was obvious that he was probably just as tired as you were, but the thought of him staying up worrying about where you were and waiting for you to arrive back home filled your stomach with butterflies. You made your way towards the dining table and took a seat; you waited for him to make the first move because you didn’t know where to start.

“Did you—uh—happen to get my texts?”

You decided to keep your gaze on the cup of coffee he placed in front of you; you didn’t even notice him heating some up for you. Your boyfriend was very observant of the way that you practically lived on coffee; on the days you had morning shifts, he would set an alarm to wake up before you and prepared all the things you needed so that you had less to worry about—coffee being your number one necessity. If you were to look up at him, you were well aware that you would probably cry just at the thought of how considerate he was even under a negative circumstance.

“Yes. I didn’t have a chance to read them though.”

That was a lie. You read every single one of his messages; each message pulling on your heartstrings the more you continued scrolling through them. Although you no longer held any anger towards Mark, you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. A part of you also wanted to hear him apologize in person rather through messages—but you felt in your gut that he would sooner or later. Honestly, you wanted to wait until you were to come home from work tomorrow afternoon so that you were well rested enough to have the right mindset if another argument broke out.

“Oh. Well, I—For starters, I want to apologize for the way I acted towards you. I don’t know what made me say the things I did—I meant it as a joke but you obviously didn’t think it was funny and I don’t know why I expected you to. I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve it at all. I know I said some really cruel things in the heat of the moment, but I hope you know I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not a bitch nor are you over-emotional and you don’t get on my nerves. At all. I just—hearing you say those things about me sparked something inside that I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me. It took every bone in my body not to run after you. I’ll admit, sure—it was because I wanted to give you your space, but I was also very prideful and still so irritated with the entire ordeal. I regret every single thing I said and did tonight as soon as I realized just how scary it is being out late at night by yourself. I’ve never hated myself more than I did in these last two hours worrying about where you could have gone and what you were doing. I couldn’t stop thinking about your broken expression as you grabbed your things and stormed out the door.”

His voice quickly grew shaky; you knew he was on the verge of crying again just by the tone of his voice. For some reason, you found yourself giving in to him and finally looked up. It felt like a slap to the face; seeing him with the most heart wrenching frown—not once in your relationship did you ever question Mark’s love for you and right now, hearing that he beat himself up for the last few hours while he was going crazy thinking of the many possibilities that something bad happened to you made you come to the realization that the beautiful man in front of you loved you more than you could ever fathom in to words.

“I know you’re tired from work—I don’t know why I didn’t just keep my mouth shut. If I could, I’d go back and prevent this entire night from happening. I was so fucking scared y/n. You don’t know California all that well; you could have taken a wrong turn and ended up on your way to Las Vegas—your car could have broken down in the middle of nowhere and someone could have came and—I don’t even want to think about it. I’m sorry for hurting you—I know you’re well aware that I would rather sit and suffer through listening to Yugyeom and BamBam screaming while playing MarioKart than to hurt you in any possible way. You don’t have to forgive me. Hell, scream at me; yell at me, hit me, do whatever you want to me. Just know that I’m extremely sorry, and I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get you to trust me again.”

He hesitantly stood up and didn’t even spare a glance at you before making his way back into the living room. You were upset that he didn’t give you any time to respond, but at the same time—you were extremely grateful. Right after he left you all alone at the table, you allowed the tears to flow freely from your eyelids as his apology continuously replayed in your mind. Whatever exhaustion you felt from earlier that disappeared right after you abruptly left the apartment was quickly returning—though, you didn’t know if you were physically tired or just mentally drained at this point.

You gave yourself a couple of minutes alone just to plan out what you were going to do. Going to sleep sounded like the most rational decision to make; especially because you were meant to wake up in less than four hours to work another long, grueling and tiresome ten-hour shift. But you didn’t want to go to bed on bad terms with Mark. If he was willing to give up his pride and raise the white flag first just to make sure you were well aware that he was extremely regretful and apologetic of his actions, then it was only righteous of you to forgive him. You got up from your seat and put away the cup of coffee before taking in a deep breath and making your way in to the living room.

The lights were off; but the lights from the hallway were still dimly lit enough for you to notice that Mark was lying down on the couch with a pillow and a blanket wrapped around him. This was the first time since you moved in together that you found him outside on the couch. A small smirk raised on your face—your boyfriend was always so courteous and considerate.

He began tossing and turning in order to find a sleeping position he would be comfortable in. Your couch was pretty spacious and the two of you have slept on it countless times while watching movies together, but you were sure he was probably bummed by your response or lack thereof. You walked over to the end of the couch and gently tapped his thigh with your knee to get his attention.

“What are you doing?”

Although there was barely enough light to even see his figure, you were able to see him shrug nonchalantly at your question—as if you already knew the answer.

“You’re still mad at me. I don’t want to make matters even worse. I’m giving you your space—“ You surprised both yourself and your boyfriend by flopping on top of him, earning yourself a soft whimper. Nonetheless, his hands made their way down towards your lower back without hesitance. His heart was racing against your chest; you had a feeling he wasn’t expecting for you to forgive him tonight let alone throw yourself in top of him. The two of you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound that could be heard was your breaths and his fingers tapping lightly on your skin. He placed a couple of gentle kisses on your jaw and gripped at your chin; lifting it up to make eye contact with you.

“I lied. I did read the messages and I cried like a baby—you ass. Okay, I’m gonna start off by admitting that there were some things I also said that were out of line and that I did not mean. You are not a bad boyfriend at all Mark—you are the best boyfriend—hell, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. A lot of what I said was because I was so pissed off at you. I had such a terrible day at work. I was scolded by my manager twice for things I didn’t do, I had to work two extra hours to help out because three people called in sick, I was thrown up on and my break was cut short because we were so low staffed today and everyone in California all seemed to have kidney malfunctions on the same damn day. All I wanted to do was fall apart in your arms and have you comfort me like you always do—but then I come home and you make a comment about how lazy I am and I just—I cracked. Normally you’re always so good at picking up on the fact that I’ve had shit days; so, for you to make me feel even worse when all I wanted to do was find solace in you—it made me so fucking sad. And then I went out and drove for a while but I came to the realization that it wasn’t a good idea for me to roam around in a city I’m not familiar with while I was fuming so I went to a coffee shop and just thought about everything.”

Feeling his grip on your hips tighten only made it evident that your words had an effect on him. Sure, you were telling your side of the story and you had every right to—Mark deserved to hear what an asshole he was towards you—the last person in his life that he ever wanted to hurt. But he could just picture you sitting in your car; sobbing and blaming yourself like you’ve done multiple times in the past even if it wasn’t your fault. You were the kind of person who had a tendency to think you were the reason why things went wrong.

Usually, it was in situations at work; but he couldn’t help but feel as if you were beating yourself up about the argument that could have honestly been prevented if he observed your posture and body language and just kept his mouth shut. You wiped away a tear that fell from his cheek before placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I wanted to continue giving you your space, but I had so many negative thoughts running through my mind. I was so, so worried about you. Baby I am so fucking sorry—“ you playfully pinched his cheek before covering his mouth with your hand.

“No more apologies okay? Our argument is in the past. I just want you to know what happened and why I decided to return back so soon. If I’m being honest with you, I was planning on staying out until I had to head in to work again but sleeping in my car is not the most easiest thing to do. You hurt me Mark—I know it wasn’t purposely but for a few minutes, I actually contemplated on staying at a hotel or something. I didn’t want to see you for the rest of the night and I hated that I felt like that—even if it was for a split second. I always want you Mark. Every second—every minute—every hour spent away from you is spent thinking about you. What you’re doing, if you ate your meals on time, how you’re doing, if you miss me the way I can’t stop missing you, when I’ll get to see you next—then I got your message and they just solidified the love you have for me. Not that I ever questioned it once in our three years of dating. I’m sorry about the dishes—I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself these last few days but please Mark—I’m not acting this way on purpose. I’m so tired. You’re the only reason why I don’t end up in a mental institution at the rate I’m going. I’ll try to be better okay? I love you too by the way—so much.”

The longer you spoke, the more tears fell from his eyes knowing how you must’ve felt so unhappy while overthinking the argument and just your entire day in general and he just felt so angry with himself. It was one thing for him to think about how much the argument must have bothered you, but it was another thing to hear you confess what had happened at work before coming home to a nagging and complaining boyfriend.

He felt sick to his stomach and it was even more upsetting because he didn’t have the right words to explain just how sorry he was nor did he know what to do to make it known that he was regretful of the entire situation. Your boyfriend didn’t give you any time to prepare; he cupped your face in his hands and roughly connected your lips together. His lips were chapped and dry and tasted like salt from the tears. However, his movements were dominant and quick; his desire and need to kiss you was all that was on his mind at the moment.

He wanted you to feel how much he loved you and how remorseful he was through the kiss. His tongue pushed down all but gently against your bottom lip before bringing it in between his teeth. The kiss continued to deepen the longer your tongues battled for dominance; any anger you held for your boyfriend was completely gone at this point. As much as you loved the way his lips melded perfectly against yours, you were finally feeling the wave of exhaustion re-enter your body and to Mark’s disappointment, you pulled away and placed your forehead against his.

“Babeeeee—“

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You got up from off of him and reached your hand out in order to help him up. Mark was the definition of a clingy boyfriend—everyone who knew the two of you both witnessed and heard just how possessive he was over you and how he constantly had to be touching on you. But nobody ever complained—it was so adorable. He wrapped his arms around your stomach and placed his head on your shoulder while letting you guid the two of you towards your shared bedroom. You attempted to escape his hold in order to move around freely, but he had other plans and continued to cling to you like a sloth.

“Babe, I have to get ready for bed—“

“You can get ready while I hold you.”

“I can’t take off my scrubs with your arms around me.”

“I guess that means I have to take them off for you—it would be my pleasure baby.” You rolled your eyes and gently shoved him while grabbing one of his shirts and making your way towards the bathroom.

“Baby?” You hummed in curiosity and gingerly smiled at him.

“It’s already 3 in the morning. Maybe you should call in sick. I don’t like the thought of you going to work with barely any amount of sleep and I know we’ve moved on from our argument—but it’s only human for you to think about it again. I don’t want you getting yelled at again if your manager senses that you’re tired. Plus, you’ve been working so much this last month. I know you love your job, but it’s okay to take a well deserved rest once in a while—“

He had a point. Besides Mark, work was your ultimate priority. Sometimes, you put the hospital before your own health and private life. There were occasions where Mark would invite you out with him and his friends, but a lot of the time, you would either be at work or sometimes be called in as you started getting ready. Working so much led to over exhaustion every now and then but no matter how sick you felt—whether it was a cold, the flu or nausea, you would still find yourself tending to patients. It was something Mark wasn’t all too fond of; especially because your boyfriend seemed to be the only one genuinely concerned about your well-being.

As soon as you finished your nighttime routine, you wasted no time making your way towards where Mark was sitting on the bed and crawled on top of him. He gave you a tired yet toothy grin and pulled you close to his chest. His hands returned to your lower waist and he even playfully pinched your butt; earning himself a slap to the shoulder. You brought one of your hands in to his hair while cupping his cheek lovingly with the other.

“I know you don’t want me apologizing anymore, but I just want to say sorry one last time. I can’t promise we won’t argue again—we’re both stubborn as hell—but I promise to be more patient; more understanding. And I don’t want you leaving—you really did worry me baby. I love you so much y/n. I’m sorry if what I said earlier made you question my love for you—but I love you. I’ve loved you for the last three years and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.” You placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth before smashing your cheek against his chest.

“I love you too. A lot more than I get around to telling you. Fine. If I stay home tomorrow, you owe me.” He gently pulled away from you and began wiggling his brows.

“Oh, and what do you have in mind? You know babe, we don’t need to wait till tomorrow, I can give you what you deserve right now. I’ll take such good care of you—“

“I don’t mean sex you horny ass, I meant you make me breakfast in bed or prepare a bath for me. If I’m calling in sick, I want a relaxing day off.” He gave you an adorable pout while playfully hiding his face in between your breasts and whining softly.

“Making love can be relaxing. Come on Y/n, it’s been almost a week since I had your pretty lips around my cock. I’m sex deprived. As much as I prefer you topping me and riding my cock like the professional cowgirl you are, I’ll take the lead. I’ll eat your pussy out until you cry—fuck you till you scream. Might as well you call out for the entire week. I think you and I both know angry makeup sex is the best sex. Don’t lie y/n, you miss having me inside of you just as much as I miss feeling your tight walls wrapped around me—“

“I think I made a mistake telling you to come in here. Go back to the couch.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years

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talk to me about king christopher, intentionally or not, helping his two dads figure out they’re in love with each other 🤗 xoxo

cailee, you beautiful wonderful tropical fish, did you know you had a direct line to my soul with asks like this?

There was a very, very good reason that whenever anyone asked Edmundo Diaz about his son, the first word that he used to describe Chris was ‘smart’.

Chris was a caring boy, a kind boy, a kid who had known loss and grief in his life, more than any child should. He had survived earthquakes, tsunamis, surgeries, death, and that had shaped him into a kid that was incredibly sweet, empathetic, but most of all, smart.

Eddie knew it, of course; he was incredibly proud of his son, of the work he did in school, of the friends he made, of the person that he was growing into. Chris was bright, and he was bubbly, and he was whip quick in a way that Eddie sincerely wished he could be an adult, let alone as a kid—but that wit usually came as a double edged sword.

Because as proud as Eddie was of his son, Chris had a knack of thinking circles around everyone, himself included.

Eddie knew when he was being played for extra video game time, and knew damn well when Chris batted his eyes for a sick day from school, but Eddie figured that was about as far as things went. As far as Eddie was concerned, as long as his grades stayed up and he stayed happy with his friends, a little special treatment wouldn’t hurt.

So it only made sense that when Chris decided to wield his powers for good where his father was concerned, Eddie had no idea what was coming.

“Dad, can we go over to Buck’s house to play some video games tonight?”

Eddie smiled, watching Chris tilt his cell phone to get through whatever game he was playing in the rear view mirror as they made the trek home from Abuela’s. He had to admit, while the best possible thing that had come out of him joining the 118 was the easy friendship that he found with Buck, the easy friendship that Chris and Buck seemed to have made was a close second.

“I dunno buddy, Buck might already have dinner plans. Besides, you know it’s rude for us to invite ourselves over.” Eddie said, catching Chris’ eye in at a stoplight. He was thankful for their friendship, of course, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel a little guilty about monopolizing all of Buck’s time when they were both off the clock.

The look Chris gave him was thoroughly unimpressed as he held up Eddie’s phone, speaking like it was actually paining him to have to explain himself. “Dad, Buck was the one who asked. He says we should bring over pizza!”

...okay, Eddie might have felt bad about being attached to Buck at the hip, but that didn’t mean he was about to deny himself the pleasure when Buck was the one to initiate some time together. And Eddie definitely wasn’t going to say no when he knew that Chris was looking forward to spending time with Buck just as much as Eddie was.

Even if Eddie knew he enjoyed Buck’s company for entirely different reasons.

“Hey, thanks for having us over.” Eddie said softly, once pizza had been devoured, and Buck had his ass thoroughly kicked (With Chris, Buck definitely threw his matches—but with Eddie, well, there was no denying the cry of defeat whenever Eddie skimmed past him into first). “Chris loves spending time with you, you make his night whenever he gets to see you.”

Buck grinned back at him, that easy smile that made Eddie’s heart do things he didn’t care to identify as he shrugged his shoulders. “You know I love spending some time with my Diaz boys. This was definitely one of your better ideas.” he said easily, clearing the table, sliding the pizza box into the fridge.

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, pausing before any words could come out, a curious look crossing his face. He reached around Buck and grabbed two beers, handing one to Buck after he cracked them open. “You mean, thanks for the pizza. This was your idea, after all.”

It was Buck’s turn to look confused, swallowing a mouthful of beer as he pulled his phone out. “No, Eddie, pretty sure you sending me a message that said ‘game night, we’ll bring pizza’ was pretty clear.”

Eddie blinked as he looked at Buck’s phone—sure enough, the message was there plain as day, and he shot a curious look over to Chris, who was conked out on the couch. Buck followed his gaze, chuckling when he put two and two together, shaking his head. “Hey, go easy on him... after all, it’s not like I had any other plans.”

“Buck...”

“No, I’m serious.” Buck said, his face holding that soft, sweet grin. “After all, it’s... well, I like spending time with you. With, um, both of you I mean.” he murmured over the mouth of his beer bottle, pink raising in his cheeks as Eddie took a swig of his own. He didn’t trust himself to respond and instead linked his ankle with Buck’s beneath the table, trusting the gesture would say enough—and judging by the grin Buck shot him, the message was received loud and clear.

Unseen to either of them, Chris had a small smile on his face, peeking through his lashes as he watched the two from his space on the couch.

In retrospect, Buck probably should have asked what all was entailed in Career Day when Chris asked he and Eddie to show up to his school at 9am.

All he had expected was that he and Eddie would get to show the kids some of their tools, some of their gear, and then answer some questions. What he got was a room full of single moms (and dads) that were looking at Eddie like he was good enough to eat.

Which, let’s be real, Eddie was. Especially when he was partially suited up, PPE from the waist down, a 118 tee shirt, and the thick red suspenders to hold everything together. Saying he looked delicious was selling it short, but that didn’t mean Buck liked a room full of strangers being so blatant about it.

It was all he could do to stand back and not cause a scene as yet another mom walked up to Eddie and put her hand on his bicep, laughing at a joke far too loudly, for far too long. The only saving grace was the look that Eddie shot him while she had her head tossed back, rolling his eyes so hard that Buck thought he was going to hurt himself.

As Chris took his turn and made it up to the front of the class, Buck couldn’t deny feeling a little bit self conscious as he stood beside Eddie.

A room full of parents, with their kids, and then Buck.

He wasn’t jealous, okay?

And even if he was—

“This is my Dad, and this is my Buck! They’re firefighters!”

—Chris knocked that feeling out of him, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head as Chris started his presentation. A quick look at Eddie confirmed that he wasn’t the only one who caught the title, and he dipped his head with a little smile, not bothering to hide how pleased he was.

Pleased because he got to be Chris’ Buck. Not pleased because of the disappointed looks that he could see flicker across half of the single parents faces. Nope, that had nothing to do with it, and if it did, it was no secret that Chris was the real source of his joy.

“...they use their trucks and ladders to help keep us safe...”

Chris being an awesome kid was no surprise—Eddie was a great dad, okay?—but Buck still felt lucky that he got to see such a bright kid in his element like this, and even luckier that he got to help out whenever he could. He let his mind wander as Chris continued to speak, treading into dangerous territory. Chris had called him his Buck, so easily, like it was obvious, and for a moment Buck let himself wonder what it would sound like for Eddie to say the same.

“...and they’re super strong, too!”

Chris turned around, looking directly at Eddie, and Buck had to swallow a snort of a laugh as every eye in the room followed him. Eddie, to his credit, tried to save face, nodding his head. “Uh, we... workout every day?” he said, and Chris giggled as he looked over to Buck.

“Dad, you have to show them! Lift Buck up!”

Now it was Buck’s turn to feel every eye swivel over to him, and he was sure his face was bright red in record time. Was this part of the presentation? Did Chris mention this? Buck couldn’t be sure, but honestly, it didn’t exactly sound like something he would have agreed to. He caught Eddie’s eye and shrugged helplessly—after all, Eddie would be the one doing the heavy lifting, it was kind of out of his hands.

After a shared, barely-there nod, Eddie clapped his hands together, turning back to the class. “So, uh, this is called a fireman’s lift. It’s what we do when we have to carry someone out of a burning building, if they can’t walk out on their own. What we do is—“

“Have you ever had to do it before?” A blonde boy asked from the second row, his hand straight up in the air, eyes wide. His father, a corporate manager, didn’t look entirely pleased.

Eddie was all smiles, though, as he nodded and looked over to Buck. “We both have. Our job is to keep people safe, and this is the easiest way to do it.”

The clear hero worship may have helped Eddie become a little more comfortable, but for Buck, the situation didn’t matter—acting as a dead weight was always going to be a little weird. He sighed and opened his arms as Eddie stepped forward, and he was in the air before he could blink. He twisted his body as Eddie lifted so he could still face the class, focusing on Chris’ smile as his world went sideways.

If Buck thought it was awkward before, the dead silence that met him when Eddie spun around with Buck on his shoulders was completely deafening. It was all Buck could do to focus on keeping himself right side up, and not focus on the firm line of Eddie’s shoulders against his side, his strong hands on Buck’s thigh and wrapped around his arm—and thankfully Buck didn’t have long to follow that train of thought before there were twenty kids cheering for them, clapping wildly.

Okay, note to self; if you want to impress a room full of nine year olds, you just had to lift something heavy up.

Buck found himself smiling again, cheeks feeling permanently pink as Eddie brought him back down to the ground, turning to answer a few questions as they were swarmed with tiny bodies. He loved kids, he always had, and he was definitely in his element—but he couldn’t get the thought of Eddie’s hand on his thigh out of his mind.

He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse when the weight of Eddie’s arm looped around his waist, effectively anchoring him and sending him into another galaxy as Chris’ teacher took a picture of the three of them together.

As Buck leaned into Eddie’s touch, he couldn’t help but look down to Chris, who very much looked like the cat that got the canary—and Buck was content to assume that it was because he obviously had the coolest Career Day presentation.

After all, getting your Dad to deadlift your Buck certainly blew any investment bankers or realty agents out of the water.

“You know, if you actually want to watch a movie, you have to press play on the remote.”

“Shove it, Eds.”

His words were snippy, but Buck was all smiles as Eddie joined him in the loft, plate in hand, passing Buck a burger and a huge plate of chips as he crashed on the couch beside him. Buck had been listening to the menu theme of some action DVD that Chim had picked out for the better part of a half hour as he scrolled through his phone, his attention quickly pulled to the food. “What’s wrong, Bobby kick you off the grill again? Made you realize there was more to life than being a meathead?” Buck said with a teasing smile, and Eddie found himself laughing in spite of himself.

“Well, actually, Carla sent me a few pictures of Chris on his class trip to the zoo today, and I was going to show you, but...”

“Hey, no, what? I think it’s awesome that you’re a middle aged grill dad, you look great with that spatula, now show me the pictures!” Buck said, immediately back tracking, his pride an easy thing to swallow whenever Chris being adorable was involved.

Eddie snorted as he handed over his phone, letting Buck swipe through the photos, and if he happened to be looking at Buck more than he was looking at the photos, well that was his own business. Buck, mercifully, was plenty distracted—the sight of Chris and a peacock would do that to anyone, Eddie had already set it as his wallpaper.

“Eddie, your kid is so fucking cute.” Buck said as he looked back up at Eddie, smiling as he tapped at Eddie’s screen, undoubtedly forwarding a few of the images to his own phone. Buck’s phone was only second to Eddie’s when it came to cute pictures of Chris, and if Eddie had more than three brain cells bouncing around in his skull, he probably would have looked a little more deeply into that.

Eddie pulled his phone back as another message came through, eyes flickering over the text message as Buck took a huge bite of the burger Eddie brought him.

“Hey Buck?”

“Mmmphhgghh?”

“Say cheese.”

“Ehh, muhnuie!”

The picture was pretty disgusting, honestly—Buck had a mouth fit to bursting of burger, sauce and ketchup smeared over his cheek, eyes wide as he turned to the camera. “What? Chris wanted to see what we were doing today.” Eddie said innocently, saving the picture to his camera roll before sending it to Carla’s phone.

“Dad I need selfies of you and Buck!”

The message from Carla came through easy enough, though it was clear that Chris had taken over, and Eddie was still laughing at Buck when he read the message aloud. Buck’s scandalized look didn’t go away as he finally swallowed, and Eddie knew he was in trouble the moment Buck reached for his phone, ready for retaliation.

He couldn’t complain when he suddenly had an arm full of Buck, laughing easily as Buck fired up his selfie camera, but his laughter quickly turned into a sound of absolute horror as he felt ketchup against his cheek when Buck smushed their faces together, camera shutter firing rapidly.

“You are disgusting!” Eddie finally got out between laughs, shoving Buck aside, who looked all too pleased with himself as he furiously tapped at Eddie’s phone, undoubtedly sending the pictures to Carla (and probably Maddie, and Abuela, and maybe his own phone too).

He had to admit, when he finally got his phone back and looked over the pictures, he was a little uncomfortable—not because of the content, but because he had never known he was so fucking obvious when he was looking at Buck. He hadn’t understood the term heart eyes until now, and it kicked his anxiety up just a little bit—he needed to work on his subtlety.

Then again, the next time he caught a glimpse of Buck’s phone, he was stunned to see that the picture of the two of them had made Buck’s wallpaper...

...maybe Chris was on to something with the whole selfies idea.

“Hey Buck?”

“What’s up, bud?”

They had just finished what Buck would not hesitate to call one of the best nights of his life—Eddie and Chris had shown up with a truck packed full of food, blankets, chairs, and a huge, colorful umbrella. Buck had worried that Chris would be less than thrilled to be near the ocean after the tsunami, but his fears were completely misplaced—Chris took to the beach like a crab, and Buck’s heart felt lighter than it ever had every time he heard Chris’ laughter, getting to the point where he actually deleted a few apps from his phone to take some more photos.

The icing on the cake, though, was Chris insisting that Buck could read him his bedtime story that night. Eddie looked completely betrayed, even as he insisted it was fine.

It was fucking hilarious.

“You love me, right?”

Buck felt his brows raise into his hairline, closing the book as he nudged Chris’ shoulders. “Course I love you, buddy. You’re my favorite little man.” He said softly, the initial spike of concern easing in his heart when he watched Chris break out into a grin. He should have known it was a trap, but Chris was so cute, so unassuming, so—

“And you love Daddy too, right?”

—so damn sneaky.

Buck swallowed once he regained his bearings, nodding his head, glad for the dim light of Chris’ room to hide his blush. “Course I do kiddo. You and your dad are both very important to me.” Which, apparently, was the wrong thing to say, if the scrunch of Chris’ face was anything to go by.

“But you love him too, right? You love me and Daddy?”

Putting the long forgotten book down on the night table beside Chris’ bed, Buck pulled his arm around the kid easily, pressing a kiss to his mess of curly hair. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the only thing that would come out was the truth. “Yeah, I love you and I love your dad too.” he murmured. It was the first time he had ever said that aloud before—and even as he felt his heart race, he felt lighter, to be able to get that off his chest, a secret that had been heavy on his heart for a long time.

“You should tell him that.”

Buck almost swallowed his tongue. Like he could sense his discomfort, Chris looked up, blinking owlishly without his glasses, a small smile on his lips. “It makes me happy when you tell me you love me. I bet it would make Daddy happy too.” he said with a little shrug, and Buck actually surprised himself with a little laugh.

“How did you get so smart, kid?”

Another kiss goodnight and Buck had the door shut behind him, walking on the balls of his feet as he returned to the kitchen, where Eddie was still scrubbing at a dish—and if that wasn’t enough of a red flag, the red tint to his cheeks and the way he shyly looked up at Buck told him all he needed to know. Shy was just not a typical look for Eddie.

“Edmundo Diaz, were you eavesdropping on your sons bedtime story?” Buck asked, his voice light and teasing, even as his face heated up. If Eddie had been listening in, there was no way to tell just how much he had heard, but while the thought usually pushed Buck into a spiral of despair, all he felt now was a strange sense of warmth.

Eddie looked up at him cautiously, chewing his lip. “What? It’s not my fault, I had to make sure the story you picked was up to his standards, and that you... did all the voices, and—“

“I meant it.”

Wow, fuck, Buck just blurted that out. He felt his jaw clamp shut as Eddie’s gaze snapped to him, Eddie’s eyes as wide as his own.

“Buck...”

“I’m serious, Eddie. I meant it, I... I mean it.” Buck’s feet are moving of his own accord, closing the distance between them until Buck could reach out and touch Eddie if he wanted. Well, if he could get his arms to respond. “You and Chris, you’re the most important people in the world to me, and... and I do, I love you. And I think, I think you love me too.”

Eddie couldn’t think, couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything other than move forward and pull Buck into his space completely. Their first kiss was a little rough—bumped noses, off center, but even then Eddie could feel fireworks—and when they reconnected, when Buck’s lips met his properly, it was all Eddie could do to remain upright.

He kept his hands around Buck when they pulled back to breathe, their foreheads resting against one another, and Eddie’s cheeks were literally hurting he was smiling so hard. Buck’s little laugh was all Eddie could hear, all he ever wanted to hear for the rest of his life—so he couldn’t be blamed for failing to hear a pair of little feet leaving the kitchen, back through the hallway, or the nearly silent closing of Chris’ bedroom door.

Chris didn’t need to stick around to see the end result—adults were so gross—but he was pleased enough to see that his hard work and careful planning had paid off, knowing that his dad and his Buck would be happier than ever now that they were finally smooching (even if it had taken forever!).

His dads were a little slow on the uptake sometimes, sure, but that was okay.

After all, Chris would be there to give them a little push whenever they needed.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #chris diaz #chris diaz is a little genius #chris diaz: professional matchmaker #buddie #buddie fic #911 #flospeaks #floanswers #mutually assured devotion #buckleydiazs

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chrisalonso-domluca-jimstreet · 2 years

Text

IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES (JIM STREET/CHRIS ALONSO FANFIC)

Prologue

So many things hadn't gone right for Street in the last six months. Firstly, he and Chris Alonso kissed for the second time in their several years of playing cat and mouse, then she won a place on the TLI programme with Luca. But that hadn't even gone smoothly as their stay had been extended from three months to six. Street had donated part of his liver to his mother who had been sent back to jail, so he was spending a lot of time cooped up in the house he and Luca shared in order to recover. But that only gave him time to over think a lot of things that had happened before the surgery. In the first three weeks of recovery, Street had texted or called Chris every day and they spent hours talking about everything and nothing, but that suddenly changed. Chris ghosted him after three weeks......three weeks after that kiss in the locker room that was filled with hope and promise. The dream simply died.

The bizarre thing was that Street suddenly didn't care about trying to push himself mentally and physically to retrain for passing his medical. He still insisted he was still having some problems health wise so he didn't have to return to temporary desk duty either. He was avoiding everyone as best as he could but there were times he didn't have a choice, like when Tan brought over take-out and they caught up over what he had been missing at the department. But what hurt was anytime Chris and Luca were brought up in conversation and Street had to pretend that he knew what everyone else was talking about. It was hard and he knew that he was pulling it off with his inappropriate and sarcastic jokes. To everyone, even Luca he managed to keep up the appearance that he and Chris were still as close as ever.

Street lay on the sofa, a blanket draped over him and staring through the TV that was showing some middle of the night movie that half the planet had never heard of. It was three A.M and it felt like since forever since he had even done the simplest of tasks, shaving, eating a proper meal or even riding his bike. He groaned loudly as he moved to grab his cell phone from the arm of the sofa and sucked in a breath before accepting the video call from Luca.

"Hey man, how you doin'?" Luca sounded just ad excited as ever, his usual self. "You'll never guess what I found in this little shop in the city that was literally hidden behind junk outside, real deal German Schnapps and I've managed to convince Chris to put a few bottles in her suitcase. So, how you doin'?"

"Hey, sounds like you're both having a great time, but good luck with all the clothes she's been buying." He knew that Chris was a sucker for clothes that were unusual, especially at bargain prices. "Yeah, I'm doing good. I've got a medical review scheduled for next week and-"

"That's great, Street! Just think, in two weeks 20 squad will be back together and it'll be like old times. Not that living the life of a celebrity isn't fun or nothin', but I miss the real action." He continued with the big goofy grin, using his hands on screen to express himself. "Two weeks and we'll be out kickin' down doors and showing 50 squad whose boss. Just gotta watch for Chris since she's in so much puppy love right now."

Street felt his stomach drop. "Uh, yeah......She's happy right and as long as she's being treated right."

"You've no idea, my man. She's out smilin' like the cat that got the cream and I'm surprised she hasn't been thrown out the hotel." He laughed. "Six months is a solid attempt at finding the one."

Street was going to respond when Luca broke off on the screen and then told him he would call him back and to rest up before the medical. He couldn't bring himself to even think about his pending medical now that he knew that Chris was in a relationship with someone and had been for the last six months. Street went into the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a bottle of cheap vodka that he had used to clean something on his bike and took a swig from the bottle. The burn did nothing to quench the pain and hurt that he felt inside. He had truly believed that he and Chris had really made progress with their budding relationship and within a few weeks of her being gone, that had changed.

#swat cbs #swat 2017 #swat fanfic #first attempt #jim street #chris alonso

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

By Your Side

MASTERLST

This was requested by and is dedicated to @be-the-bravest, my name AND birthday twin. The poor thing dealt with appendicitis and an appendectomy on her birthday and a few following days. I’m so incredibly sorry that you had to go through that on your birthday of all days, Erin, but I hope this makes your recovery a little better. This is some incredibly fluffy, sweet goodness and you can’t convince me that Spencer wouldn’t do this for someone he loves. Hope you all enjoy some fluff to start your week and happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 1,796

This wasn’t exactly how you’d planned your birthday.

You’d been excited about your birthday for months. You’d been dreaming about a day filled with spending time with friends, family and your boyfriend, Spencer.

You were too old for parties—not that parties were necessarily a bad thing—but you were one who much preferred eating out and going on adventures.

You’d planned an entire day; brunch with your family and Spencer at your parents house, browsing yours and Spencer’s favorite book stores, dinner with Spencer’s work family and then a movie marathon with him that night.

Spencer had even taken a day off of work, something he rarely did. Having a job in the FBI meant demanding work and you admired how passionate he was about his job. According to him, this was the first time he’d taken time off in well over five years. It was touching that he did it just for you.

When you were younger, the thought of getting older scared you. You’d realized with each year you turned a new age, you’d never get back any of those previous years. Now though, you viewed it as a celebration of another year filled with ups and downs—and making it through the year, especially when you got to celebrate it with the people closest to you. Besides, the older you got the less you worried about aging; you were only as old as you felt after all.

All of your anticipated plans evaporated as quickly as a snap of fingers.

The pain had begun the previous night, a dull pain in your stomach. You were expecting your period at any time, so you chalked it up to that. You went to bed early with a heating pad and no second thoughts. By the time Spencer had come to bed, the pain had eased a bit to the point of uncomfortable, but bearable pain and you didn’t consider anything else.

The bright, early hours of your birthday changed your opinion though.

You and Spencer didn’t have to be at your parent’s house for brunch until 11 am, but you woke just before 7, the pain in your abdomen more than you could bear.

You cried out as you tried to sit up in bed.

Either Spencer was just finely tuned to know when something was wrong with you or he’d slept incredibly light last night—something pretty unusual for him.

He was up in an instant, concern written all over his face as he checked on you.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

Definitely in tune with you.

“My stomach is killing me,” you groaned, “What time is it?”

He peered at the alarm clock on his side of the bed.

“6:49. Why don’t you lay back down? We still have a few hours before we have to be at your parents’.”

Spencer helped you lay back down and took your heating pad.

“Do you need me to reheat it for you?”

You nodded, in too much discomfort to talk.

“Get some rest,” he said, kissing your head before heading downstairs.

A few minutes later, he returned with the newly warmed heating pad, wrapped in a hand towel and placed it on your lower stomach.

“Has the heating pad helped any?” he asked, recalling that you’d slept with it last night as well.

“It was last night. But now it doesn't even touch it,” you whimpered.

You’d never given birth, but you were certain this is what labor felt like.

The pain was like internal sharp pin pricks, but then it’d ease off into a more mild and dull sensation. No matter what you did though, the pain was still persisting.

“You look flushed,” he commented, worried.

“I’m about to burn up,” you said, tossing the heating pad aside.

He felt your forehead and looked even more concerned.

“Where exactly does it hurt, Y/N?”

You motioned to your lower abdomen and then to an area slightly to the right.

“We need to get you to the emergency room now,” he said, his mind made up.

“What? No! I’m fine!”

You tried to sit up and cried out at the sharp pain, tears forming in your eyes.

“Babe, it could be anything from an ovary issue to gallbladder issues. It might even be appendicitis, you need to get it checked out now.”

You knew better than to argue with him. Whatever plans you’d had for your birthday had just gone out the window.

•

You sat hunched in the emergency room as Spencer checked you in. You were in so much pain now, you couldn’t talk.

Unfortunately, it was a wait, but at least you were on the high priority list.

You sat, half hunched, half curled into Spencer, whimpering and clutching his hand the entire time you waited.

“I know honey, I know,” he whispered.

He alternated between rubbing your back, kissing your head and murmuring softly to you.

It took over two hours, but considering the normal wait time, you were pretty fortunate.

Things moved pretty quickly after that.

You were taken back, a full exam and blood work being done. Next, came an ultrasound.

An agonizing amount of time passed as you waited for the results of the ultrasound while still in a good amount of pain.

Spencer didn’t leave your side though. He tried his best to distract you and take your mind off of your pain.

He also was kept busy by keeping everyone updated. Between your parents and the team from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, his phone had hardly left his hands.

Your friends and family were amazing, sending you birthday wishes, videos to lift your spirits, even some of their kids had made drawings for you. It helped some and you were eternally grateful for Spencer as he kept showing you new well wishes with a smile on his face.

The diagnosis came back quickly, when they saw the ultrasound. Just as Spencer had suspected, it was appendicitis.

“You’re in luck, our surgeon is going to be able to fit you in for this evening. We need to remove the appendix as soon as possible to avoid any further complications,” the doctor on call—Dr. Martin—told you.

“Happy birthday to me,” you mumbled.

After Dr. Martin left, a nurse was the next to come in. She administered antibiotics to help fight any infection and told you the anesthesiologist would be there soon to prep you for surgery.

The day had simultaneously passed in a flash yet crawled at a snail’s pace. You no longer cared that it was your birthday, you just wanted to feel better. You were exhausted, in severe pain and wanted to cry, as if that would make you feel any better.

“I’m sorry you feel so awful, baby,” Spencer frowned, stroking your hair from where he sat next to the hospital bed.

You mumbled your thanks sleepily and yawned.

“You should try to sleep,” he frowned.

“I would if it didn’t feel like there was a knife lodged into my abdomen,” you groaned.

After the anesthesiologist arrived and administered your medicine, you didn’t remember much. With your exhaustion and the drugs both combined, the world blurred increasingly around the edges. Just as you were about to give into the seduction of sleep, you heard Spencer say something to you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll be right here by your side the moment you’re out of surgery.”

•

The next thing you remembered was waking up in recovery.

“Surgery went well, Y/N,” Dr. Martin said, “You should be good as new in two weeks.”

You gave a groggy groan and fell asleep again. It dawned on you that you hadn’t even checked to see where Spencer was, but before you could open your eyes to look, sleep took hold.

Your eyes opened again and it was dark outside. Only one light above the bed illuminated the room besides the moonlight that shone through the window.

“Nice to see you awake again,” you heard the familiar voice of your boyfriend.

You looked over and saw Spencer refilling your water cup for you.

“I got you some jello,” he grinned.

“Ugh, ew,” you groaned, turning up your nose.

You were definitely not a fan of jello—much to Spencer’s dismay.

“Hey, I resent that,” Spencer chuckled, “Technically I asked the nurse for some for you, but in reality I’m gonna eat it.”

He walked over to your bedside, leaning over and kissing you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired and sore. Hopefully I get some good pain medicine,” you smiled weakly.

“Oh you will. Your nurse was just in here ten minutes ago and administered your first dose. She said it should be kicking in within a half hour.”

“Thank God,” you mumbled.

Your eyes raked over your boyfriend who—like he’d promised—was still at your side. He looked tired and rattled but relieved to know you would be okay.

“How are you, Spence? You’ve been up since 7 this morning,” you commented, worried about him.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he frowned, putting a hand to your cheek, stroking it gently, “I’m just glad you’re okay. I hated seeing you in so much pain.”

“Guess we won’t be having kids then,” you joked.

“Y/N,” he gave you a look, but he was smiling.

“Pretty sure I can survive labor if I survived that pain,” you said, “At least with labor you get an epidural. Spencer, invent an epidural for appendicitis, stat.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling, a trait you loved about him.

“I think you need to rest, honey, you’re clearly sleep deprived.”

“I don’t want to,” you pouted, “Can you cuddle me?”

“I’m not gonna risk hurting you,” he said adamantly.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s my birthday still, right? I want cuddles.”

His face softened, any trace of his earlier humor gone.

“I’m so sorry you had to spend your birthday like this, Y/N,” he said, frowning.

He pushed a piece of your hair off your face and sighed, seemingly resigned to something.

“Alright, you win. Scoot over.”

You smiled, moving slowly and carefully over in the bed in an attempt to make enough room from him.

He spread out next to you, positioning himself to face you.

“Better,” you said.

You smiled your first real smile of the day then.

“You know, I may have had a shitty birthday, but I’m glad it was another birthday spent with you. You hardly didn’t leave my side.”

“I’ll always be by your side, no matter what you face.”

He took your hand, bringing it towards his lips and kissed it gently.

“I love you,” you smiled up at him.

“I love you too.”

He returned your smile, placing an arm very gently over your waist.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

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