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goodgirlofglory · 1 year

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Silver fox and the Captain - Chapter 5

Chapter 4 - /Masterpost/ - Chapter 6

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 7,1k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, SMUT, oral (f recieving), penetration, fingering, unprotected sex, coming inside. A little bit of angst, fluff.

Summary: Waking up from the brink of death as a prisoner/guest of S.H.I.E.L.D you finally get a few, precious moments alone with Steve. Feelings and arousal alike rise.

Note: The big smutty send-off yay! Also why it's almost three times as long as some of the other chapters lmao. Been waiting for this one. Hope you enjoy<333

Your media consumption is your owen responsibility, but I advise you not to interact if the content of the warnings upset you. Minors DNI!!!

Reblogs, replies and likes are awesome<333

Pain was the first thing to come into focus. It sheared through your unconsciousness and brought you forward like heaving you out of a dark, quiet body of water. Out from the abyss, pain dragged you forth.

You screamed, barely registering there were others with you, pulling at your limbs and speaking words to you. You kept screaming until everything went dark.

Next time you awoke, you weren’t screaming. Barely no sound came forth from your parched throat, and you realized with a drowsy mind you were in a hospital bed. In an otherwise empty hospital room. With the most outlandish and fancy hospital machines you’d ever seen. Any of these could have you set for a year on the black market, you thought astonished to yourself as you took in your surroundings. You were in the far corner, by the window, and there were five other, empty beds in the spacious room. Across the room was a single door with a small window out to a hallway.

Oh. Right. You'd been shot.

Wrenching your covers off, you pulled at the hospital gown until you saw your abdomen, wrapped tightly in bandages. You prodded where you felt a heated ache emanate and hissed in pain at the tender ache that responded. Several of the machines were hooked up to your arm and a flash of paranoid claustrophobia had you fighting the urge to tear them out of your flesh. Just as you started getting up, muscles aching from disuse, the door at the end of the room hissed as it slid open.

Steve Rogers, honestly the last person you’d expect, came rushing in. He was wearing…jeans. And a t-shirt that stretched taut over his torso. His hair was tousled like he’d been dragging his hand through it multiple times, and there were slight purple smudges under his eyes. You immediately thought of his team. Did someone not make it?

“Fox,” he said, the word whooshing out on a breath filled with so much relief you almost squirmed.

Oh.

He was worried for you.

Behind him, a flock of doctors in white coats marched through the open door. Rogers stopped a few meters away from your bed, looking at you with that open expression. You could do nothing but look back at him as the doctors started flitting about your bed, doing this and that with the machines and IV-bags hanging by the bed.

When one of them started asking you questions, you had to tear your gaze away from Rogers, and after another minute, he silently left the room. You felt his gaze on you as he lingered in the doorway.

You were in the Avengers compound. They’d taken you with them when they left the scene of the negotiations-turned-bloodbath, and saved your bloody, stupid good-for-nothing life. Rogers told you himself as he returned later that night. Well, he didn’t say the "bloody, stupid good-for-nothing" bit.

“The doctors told me you're stable. That you’ll make a full recovery,” he said as he lingered a step closer to the bed than he had earlier. Your eyes flickered to the chair by the bed when his did, but you made no gesture for him to sit. You were fighting the ingrained reflex to escape any situation you didn’t have a pre-planned escape route from, and you had no overview whatsoever here. There was a window by the bed, but it overlooked a training yard surrounded by a tall fence and beyond there was nothing but thick, luscious forest. Your skin was crawling with the need to get away.

“How did they heal me so quickly? I should still be on the brink of death with a gun wound like that,” you asked.

“We have the best medical staff here, and some pretty advanced medicine,” he answered, cryptic and a bit evasive. You wanted to press, but thought otherwise.

Rogers looked at a loss for words as he stood there, and you didn’t know what to say either. It struck you how horrible little you knew each other. Simultaneously your cheeks heated at the memory of those things you’d thought as you had laid dying. How you’d so intensely wanted to see him in those moments, and how you’d admired him as he held you. Like a love-struck fool.

Stupid air-for-brains, you told yourself. For even now, poised for escape and reeling with the situation, some large, looming part of you desperately wanted him to come closer. To climb into the bed and kiss you. To embrace you and let you soak in his warmth and smell and safety.

He seemed to be reading your mind, for he made a jolting step around one end of the bed, and your tiny, instinctual, answering lean forward was all the concession he needed. In a flash, he had a knee on the side of the bed, and he leaned over to capture your lips with his - equally mindless with the urge to do what felt the most natural between you, it seemed. Something turned molten inside you. He sighed against your lips, one hand coming up to cradle your face so, so gently. Probably because you were recovering. Come to think of it, your whole body was wrought with pain, a constant sting that radiated out from your abdomen, flashing every time you moved. So you let him dish out his insistent gentleness. Just this once.

You resolutely ignored the part of you that cried out in relief at the contact, that wailed for you to get closer, to crawl into his embrace and never leave. You would let yourself have this, this intimacy, this care. But only now, only this once, when you were too weak to push him away anyways.

He hovered over your prone form a bit awkwardly, one knee on the bed, one foot on the floor, leaning on a hand in the mattress at the side of your hand, the other barely touching as he cradled your face.

It was devastating all the same. You felt exposed by it, chafed on your very soul. You’d never felt such tenderness, never felt someone touch you with a care for your wellbeing, a need to care for you. It made your skin tingle in a whole new way.

Rogers kept the kisses sweet, almost chaste. Soft presses of dry lips. Soft, warm breath fanning your skin in between. He broke contact and sat back on the edge of the bed.

“I have to go, but I’ll check up on you later,” he said, his voice low and soft.

“Oh,” you said, realizing with embarrassment you were ready for him to crawl under the covers with you - recovering, pain-ridden body be damned.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he said then, and you blanched, heat flashing through your body. “I was so …terrified when I saw you on that floor, covered in blood. So pale,” he said, voice going distant, like he was back in that hall, holding your limp body.

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Didn’t know how. This was a form of intimacy you had no idea how to cope with. You stared down your body at your hands. You were shaking a bit. So was he, you noticed, when you peered over at his hands, perfectly and respectfully laid in his own lap.

He got up then, and made his way to the door. You admired him, his broad shoulder stretching the fabric of his shirt obscenely.

Even with the miraculously advanced medicinal treatment of the Avengers compund, recovery was slower than you’d liked. You were itching to be free of the hospital room, to move. After a week, you still had no clue where in the world this compound was, how many people were here with you, what sort of security measures you were under. They’d officially freed you from your bandages that morning, pink and tender new skin surrounding neatly stitched skin where they’d patched you up. The IVs and monitoring tubes had been removed as well, giving you another precious layer of freedom. You were convinced they had some advanced super-medicine of some kind, because there was no way you could have healed so quickly naturally. Maybe you could snatch some with you on the way out.

Not that you had anywhere to go, you realized bitterly. You could never return to your apartment, that was compromised. If Caius had sussed it out, others would no doubt manage the same if they hadn’t already. You had a sum of money stashed in an encrypted bank account online, but you needed a computer and some encryption device to access it. You had no contacts you trusted not to sell you out. And you literally didn’t even own the shirt on your back, none of your equipment had come with you to the compound. So really, there was no use leaving. You were completely rootless, a plastic bag blowing in the fucking wind. It didn’t completely iradicate the grating need to get away though.

To some degree, you supposed you should milk this arrangement for everything it was worth. Take whatever medicine, food, warmth and rehabilitation they would give. They would throw you out in their own time, surely. Or into some cold jail cell the sun never reached, where new dangers no doubt awaited you.

But you still itched to get out of the bed, not used to being immobile for so long, your old instincts longing to fly over rooftops on sprinting legs.

Rogers returned the day you got your bandages off, and honestly, seeing a familiar face in between short worded doctors and skittering nurses was a blessing.

“Get up, we’re going for a walk,” he said as soon as he’d entered the room, dressed in a gray tracksuit.

“Huh?” you blurted intelligently from your sitting position in the bed, idly flipping through a book someone had left you.

“I hear you’re biting everyone’s head off complaining about being here,” he said, and there was reprimand in his voice, but also amusement. That old, curious amusement you knew so well.

Your cheeks heated.

“I didn’t bite everyone’s head off,” you muttered, throwing the blanket off to gently edge yourself to the edge of the bed.

Okay, maybe you had been a bit nippy when they’d said you couldn’t leave the ward, let alone your room. Maybe you’d made some nurse cry. But it hadn’t been entirely deliberate. You couldn’t help clawing at the bars of the cage when you were used to roam free.

“Oh, well then,” Rogers said, clearly seeing through your pathetic denial.

You were sore and stiff, but moving with purpose felt good. You had been out of the bed, stalking around the room like some tiger in a zoo, but now it filled you with excitement to put your feet on the cold, linoleum floors. You realized a moment later you didn’t have anything but a flimsy hospital gown to wear, complete with gaps in the back.

Just then, a gray tracksuit similar to the one Rogers wore, was tossed on the bed, a pair of sneakers joining them shortly after.

You picked up the clothes, soft cotton in your hands, and waited for him to leave so you could change. Nothing happened for a moment, and you gave him a pointed look, trying to keep your amusement off your face. He jolted.

“Oh, right! Sorry,” he said, quickly turning his back to you, but not before you caught a glimpse of an adorable blush sneaking across his cheeks.

He hesitated for a moment before mumbling something to himself and then swiftly exiting the room with slightly jerking movements.

You couldn’t stop the huff of laughter escaping you.

What an adorable dork.

You wouldn’t really have minded him seeing you change, (you wanted him to do much more than just look), but you figured your hospital bed in this very public space wasn’t the right place to get lost in lust.

Exiting your room felt almost illicit after so long inside. Rogers was waiting outside, and while there were some doctors and nurses milling about in the hospital wing, no one looked twice at you. You realized you probably had the most secure escort on the grounds - if there was anyone they could feel safe to keep a prisoner in check on home field, it was Captain America.

Rogers led you outside the compound, onto the grounds outside, and the fresh breeze and clear sky above your head was like a balm to your soul, easing a fraction of your restlessness.

“So,” you started as you and Rogers fell into an easy stroll, “when is my transfer to the dungeons.”

You stared down at your feet, and Rogers huffed a laugh beside you.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said.

Hmph, how can I not? You thought to yourself, but said nothing.

This was weird. Very weird. Being in the same vicinity as Captain America, but without clashing tongues or the deafening adrenaline of a shootout to flood your system. You were just…strolling. Strolling along a gravel path of a neatly trimmed green area surrounding the compound. Luscious lawns, bristling bushes, tall trees and a small pond filled with ducks. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been in a place this peaceful - at least not without something stolen in your bag or your heart in your throat.

You were partly relishing the calm and partly crawling out of your skin at it. It was so foreign, and you couldn’t shake the instinct of locating escape routes and possible hurdles in them.

“You’re so shifty right now I swear I’m sweating,” you heard Rogers murmur beside you after long, silent minutes, laughter in his voice.

“I’m not shifty,” you denied weakly, though you couldn’t meet his eyes.

He huffed.

“Out of all the situations I’ve seen you in, this is the one that tilts you off your axis?” he teased, and though this banter wasn’t anything you hadn’t gladly and eagerly reciprocated before, it made you bristle now.

“Well, not all of us can have the entire US government catering to our every need,” you said, and winced at your own hard, defensive tone.

You walked ahead of him, feet carrying you as fast as you could without breaking into a run.

He sighed behind you.

“Okay, I guess we’re doing this,” he said.

“Doing what?” you said.

You whipped around as he walked after you, reaching you in three, wide strides that had your heart momentarily fluttering with adrenaline.

“You’ve been involved in some pretty bad stuff, with some pretty bad people. I don’t think you have the most unbiased outlook on the world, here,” he said, looking down at you. It wasn’t his fault he was so tall, not really, but him looking down his nose at you still stoked your fire.

He had no idea what you’d lived through, what your life had been like.

“Oh, and you do?” you snapped back. You scoffed. “Well-fed, well-clothed, protected and beloved Captain America. You’re telling me you know what the world looks like?” You laughed, a bit hysterical maybe, but you couldn’t control it.The life you had built for yourself over years had crumbled in a matter of days, and now the very reason it had all gone to shit was standing over you and judging you for finding a way to survive? “Please,” you continued after a moment, “you don’t know anything about what it’s like out there. I’m the very reflection of the world, and I’m not even the worst of us,” you said.

He frowned.

“Us? You really see yourself as a part of that world? Those people?” he asked, genuine.

You halted. Did you? No. You didn’t, not really. You’d always seen yourself as a rootless half-thing, floating between worlds, not really touching down on either side of the line between good and bad. You didn’t kill people, didn’t exploit them, didn’t try to get rich off other people’s suffering, and that counted for something, right? Even if you did steal dangerous things and sold it to even more dangerous people…who no doubt used it to exploit, maim and murder.

“I don’t think you’re like them, not really,” Rogers said after a moment when you remained silent.

How could he think that, though? How could he possibly know that?

There was a lump in your throat suddenly, unfamiliar and trembling, and the uncomfortable feeling of being vulnerable threatened to set your lungs on fire. You turned away from him, afraid he would read something on your face that would expose you, so fucking scared of him getting too close and seeing you for what you actually were; a lowly thief, one out of millions who’d tried your hand in the dealings of the black market and failed spectacularly once push came to shove. You weren’t anything special, hadn’t done anything to warrant his heroic treatment. The only reason you were even alive at this point was because of him.

“Listen, I’m sure we could talk all day about our philosophical differences and the good and evil of the world, but I’m really not interested. If you’re not throwing me in jail, I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” you said.

“Oh, it’s not up to me if you get thrown in jail or not. But I have given the people in charge my piece of mind about it,” Rogers said, and the underlying protectiveness in those words were enough to make your heart flutter slightly.

No, no, no, no. You couldn’t afford growing reliant on him, on anybody. You needed to look out for yourself, to take care of yourself, everybody else be damned.

You could feel Rogers presence behind you, sure and strong. You should never have kissed him, you thought mournfully to yourself. And yet now, when he stepped closer, coming to stand directly behind you and you swore you felt the very atoms in the air between you sizzle to life - all you wanted, desperate and foolish, was to kiss him again.

You turned around to face him before you even knew what you were doing, and adrenaline spiked in your system at his proximity; your chest nearly brushing up against his midriff. Just having him close made your blood sing.

Daring to look up at him, you found him staring at you, his eyes flitting around on your face before settling on your mouth. His hand slowly, slowly came up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin so softly. He was going to kiss you, you could see it on his face, the decision being made in the moment.

Holy shit, this was a bad idea. A terribly, wonderfully, mouth-watering bad idea.

He started to lean in, giving you just enough time to pull away before his mouth met yours.

You took a step back, and your heart sank at the expression on his face, the mild surprise followed by a flicker of pain before he collected his features into a controlled mask.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, uncharacteristically distraught by having hurt him, “I just…I think I need some…time or space or…something,” you said, trying to come up with a reason that sounded better than if I kiss you now, I won’t ever stop.

He straightened and gave a painfully kind smile.

“No need to apologize, I should have thought -”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you said, smiling back.

The two of you walked back in relatively comfortable silence, having exhausted the topic of conversation for the day. When you reached the second floor of the compound, Rogers led you unexpectedly away from the hospital wing. You meandered through long halls, through open conference areas and more secluded living areas with kitchens, living rooms and gyms. You took it all in with eager eyes, scrutinizing every detail of exits and turns, mapping out the building in your head.

When Rogers at last stopped, it was outside a neutral door amongst many in a dimly lit hall just passed the living areas. He turned to lean against the door frame, smiling a bit at your obviously suspicious face.

“Figured you might want to move out of the hospital wing as soon as possible, it’s not exactly the most cozy place,” he said, nodding towards the door. “This’ll suit you better, I hope.”

You pointed stupidly at the door.

“This is mine?”

He nodded again.

Neat. Your own room. In the S.H.I.E.L.D compound. Sheer will kept your thoughts from spiraling to unattainable and foolish dreams of companionship, safety and comfortable nights spent with team members, partners and even…found family…No! This was your room temporarily.

“Does it lock from the inside?” you asked, stepping closer and laying your hand on the door handle.

“Of course,” he said, straightening from his lean, and the genuine, almost offended seriousness on his face had you snorting. Well meaning sod.

You fiddled with the handle for a moment, smiling to yourself, basking in the attention he was still giving you.

And then, because you apparently had no fucking self control, you turned on your tiptoes and kissed him, your mouth pressing to his a bit lopsided. He gave the tiniest sound of surprise, momentarily frozen, but then his hands were in your hair, cradling your head to him as he kissed you back. A hot, mind-fuddling kiss that had you wanting to cling to him, his tongue instantly invading your mouth to stroke against yours in earnest.

You fumbled with the door handle before you pushed the door open, and then the two of you stumbled, liplocked, through.

You propped yourself on the wall right inside the room, and Rogers kicked the door shut before plastering you to it, his hands on your body, his tongue feverish in your mouth, the kiss turning wet and messy.

After a searing kiss, he wrenched himself away. You tried to follow him with your mouth, an embarrassingly needy, little sound escaping you. He put his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back against the wall, and he breathed so hard it seemed he was fighting himself to hold you at that distance instead of drawing you closer.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and he sounded almost pained.

“Yes,” you answered immediately, nodding eagerly, and he didn’t give you room to get any more words out before he was kissing you again, his hands trailing down your sides, squeezing your hips, swooping up and down your back to cup your ass.

You gasped into his kiss, heart pounding from his touch.

There was a gratifyingly hard bulge pressing into your stomach, and your blood rushed in your ears at the feeling, the knowledge that he was hard from this, that he wanted you still, that you had the time and place and the chance to have him, safe and guarded in this facility.

And you wanted him inside you desperately.

With shaking, fumbling fingers, you reached down and tugged first your own pants strings open before moving to his, a throb going through your body as your fingers grazed the hot, hard bulge in the soft fabric, and heard his breath hitch against your mouth.

After tugging his strings loose, you went to tug your pants down, ready to take him inside you right then and there against the wall, but his hands around your wrists stopped you yet again.

He leaned his forehead to yours and breathed harshly.

“No, no,” he mumbled against your mouth, “I might have taken every chance to kiss you anywhere and at any time, but I promised myself that if I ever got the chance to have you, I would do you properly - in a bed,” he said.

Your breath exploded from you, a flaming lick of arousal burning its way down your body to pool down below.

He picked you up then, hoisted you in his arms so easily you let out a squeak before wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his middle, and then he was moving through the dark room.

You took the ample opportunity to kiss his neck, tasting the soft skin, taking in his musky, warm scent, loving the way he groaned deep in his chest when you grazed your teeth against his jaw and nibbled on his ear.

He reached the bed in the room and dumped you to bounce on your back in the softest sheets you’d ever felt. The room was totally dark, the curtains drawn tight, until Rogers fumbled about and a small bedside lamp coated the room in a warm, yellow light.

Then he crawled onto the bed, and you immediately spread your legs for him to kneel between. For a moment the only sound in the room was your mutual hard breathing.

He tentatively laid his hands on your knees, his palms warm through the fabric of your pants, and a shiver went up your body at it. At him in this bed, touching you in the bed, about to fuck you in this bed!

Rogers stared down at you, chest heaving slightly, eyes burning bright. But you could see his muscles straining, his hands twitching in their grip on your knees.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me one more time if I’m sure, I’ll jump out that window and you’ll never see me again,” you interrupted him, fed up with his overbearing respectfulness and way too worked up for him not to smother you into the mattress this instance.

He chuckled softly at your words, but his restraint snapped a moment later, and then he was over you, slotting himself between your legs and grinding his pelvis into you. You gasped at the rigid hardness of him grinding against your core, and he took the opportunity to lick into your mouth, the sound vibrating from his chest and through your body.

“I need your skin,” you moaned against his lips, and he groaned again, grinding another hard thrust against you before raising himself enough to drag his hoodie off. You’d fantasized about his body for so long, relished and treasured every moment you’d felt his toned, powerful muscles underneath his clothes in those stolen moments in hidden corners and alcoves. But seeing it uncovered before you in all its nude glory put all your daydreams to shame.

His skin was golden in the light from the bedside lamp, and the sparse lighting covered every divot and ripple in shadow. His shoulders were broad to the point of obscenity, his arms rippling and veined, promising such strength it had your thighs trembling. His pecs and abdomen were chiseled from stone, muscles rippling with his breath, his stomach tightening and untightening. You wanted to touch it all and, realizing you could, lifted your hands to trail down his abdomen, curling your fingers in the trail of soft, dark hair below his navel. He followed the movement with his eyes, but they fluttered shut when your fingertips lightly traced the bulge on the front of his joggers, felt it twitch as you teased it with a knuckle.

He slapped your hand away, then, and before you knew it, he had wrenched your pants along with your underwear, socks and shoes off, leaving you naked from the waist down. You had but a moment for your cheeks to heat at the exposure before it deepened when he lowered himself to lay on his front between your legs, draping one of your legs over his shoulder while spreading the other out on the mattress, exposing you fully to him.

He paused for a tiny second, and you were about to cuss him out for stalling again when he gave you an almost sheepish look.

“I gotta say, I’m not really that experienced with this, but I really, really want to taste you,” he said, voice husky, almost pleading - like you’d deny him going down on you just cause of his lack of experience.

Quite the opposite - you were partly elated at his confession, your breath coming out half sigh, half sob. For, living the life you had, you didn’t exactly have a trail of lovers scattered around the world. You had basically none, actually.

You put a hand in his hair, looking down at him mere inches from your pussy.

“I’m not really, either. Please,” you said, not sure how to confess your lack of experience yourself.

He nuzzled into your palm before laying a kiss to it, and then he lowered himself to lay an almost coy kiss to your mound, nuzzling into the hair there. Your breath hitched at the hot puff of air against your sensitive skin, and you could feel how wet you were by the way the air cooled the slick on your skin.

His kisses moved lower, moving over your hooded clit and then along your lips and then right over your hole before his tongue licked a broad stripe upwards towards your clit again.

Your back arched as he delved in, and for all the fumbling and sloppiness, he brought twice the enthusiasm, and soon his hands were clutching the tops of your thighs, keeping you firmly from squirming away as he assaulted your flesh with his tongue and lips and precarious scrapes of teeth. It was all so good, so overwhelmingly good.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, groaning when you put a hand in his hair, clutching the blond strands in your fist. You realized you could come like this, that the edge was deliciously within reach, but you were too impatient. You needed his weight on you, his cock in you. You needed him, the previous months of built up longing welling up to the surface.

You tugged his hair hard enough for him to lift his head to meet your gaze. He looked positively drugged, disheveled, heavy-lidded, his pupils blown wide, and the amount of slick he’d gotten on his face shone on his skin and open mouth in the dim lighting from the bedside lamp.

“I need you inside me. Now,” you breathed between hitched breaths, tugging again.

He seemed adorably torn, like he wanted to follow your plea, but wasn’t ready to abandon his feast yet.

He came easily when you tugged him again, though, crawling up your body with hunger in his eyes. His hands went to your hoodie, fiddling with the hem and grazing the skin underneath.

“We need to get this off you, then,” he said, voice deliciously gravelly, tugging the garment up and over your shoulders.

You were completely naked now, a spread of goosebumps appearing where your skin met the cool air of the room. Your nipples pebbled to hardened peaks atop your breasts, and Rogers couldn’t seem to help himself as he reached down and ran the pads of his thumbs over them, almost reverently.

Then his hands, so gentle they almost didn’t touch, slid down to the healing scar tissue on your abdomen. Honestly, it didn’t look that bad - they had put a lot of care into making it neat and smooth, and it was almost entirely healed, only a raised ridge of lighter skin remaining of the initial wound. But Rogers eyes gained a gloomy hue, fixing on the wound with brows that furrowed.

Before you could reach out to him or say something to break the tension mounting, he hunched forward and pressed his lips softly to the scar. Your breath caught in your throat as he kissed around the area with small, lithe kisses, hands cradling your sides.

Fuck, you thought, and wondered if you’d start crying soon for the way your throat closed up. Your breath trembled coming out of you and Rogers looked up at the sound before returning, kissing your mouth with equal care, and the kiss told you a thousand words; all his concern, care, regret, guilt and not least of all, relief. You took it all in silence, deepening the kiss as heady arousal rose between you again.

His hardness hadn’t dissipated much, the bulge almost intimidatingly big, and there was a small wet spot shining through the fabric of his pants. It made your mouth water.

You reached down and clasped the hem of his pants, and he helped you wrench them down along with his underwear. He kicked them off with his shoes and socks and then he was as naked as you were, crawling back between your legs.

His skin was scorching hot against yours, his weight and size dwarfing you into the mattress, careful though he was not to put pressure on your healing abdomen. He looked down at it and then up into your eyes again. You could see in his gaze, the worry that he would hurt you. But your words from earlier probably rang in his head, and you liked that he took your threat of disappearing serious enough to head it. His cock, hot and hard, lay against your thigh, pulling your focus to it like a gravitational pull. Your skin cooled where his leakage smeared it, and you squirmed for how fucking hot it was. You nodded to him, quickly, a bit desperately, not giving a fucking damn if it would hurt. Something as stupid as a healing gunshot wound would not stop you from having Steve Rogers inside you.

You felt your need welling up inside you at that thought. God, you wanted him so bad, felt so empty without him, needed him to stuff you and override every one of your senses. Your pussy throbbed in agreement.

In your bold need, you reached between you and grasped his cock, skin surprisingly soft over the veiny, rock hard shaft, and fitted the leaking, shiny tip against your drenched entrance. You gulped at the size of him in your hand, but you had never been afraid of taking a leap before.

“I’m gonna suck you off later,” you promised, not quite registering how the intrusive thought had left your mouth before you were done. You felt your eyes widen in shock at your own brazenness. You’d never sucked anyone off, why the fuck would you say such a thing. You dared look up into his eyes and found him looking at you with a mix of amusement and undilated lust. “If you want,” you added belatedly. You still held his cock in your hand, holding it to your weeping hole. It twitched in your hand as Steve smiled at you, flashing brilliant, white teeth.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

A thrill surged through you at his excited tone.

“Y-yeah?” you said, so stupidly giddy that he wanted you to suck him off.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice going low and husky, before he claimed your mouth like he just couldn’t stop himself. “But later,” he groaned against your mouth and pushed his hips slightly forward, his cock sliding through your hand and against your hole.

You nodded, answer turning into a gasp against his still smiling mouth.

You both looked down to watch as his tip notched at your hole, and then he slowly started working his length inside you. He groaned while your breath hitched, and, almost like you sucked him in, he slid inside until his pelvis nudged yours.

His groan turned into a small gasping sound, a goddamn whimper, and you’d never heard such a gorgeous sound. God, he was going to be the death of you…

The pressure between your hips was exquisite, his cock literally like an anchor inside you, rooting you to the spot, making every organ and cell and atom in your body rearrange themselves to make room for him, singing with a mix of pain and pleasure you knew you could get addicted to quickly.

“Fuck, it’s big,” you whispered, clasping the pillow under your head as your hips twitched, feeling him throb inside you.

His brows furrowed and he bit his lip.

“Yeah, s-sorry about that,” he said, and his muscles seemed strained as he held himself still, giving you time to adjust.

You brought a hand up and clasped it around his neck, bringing his eyes to yours.

“Fuck me with it,” you breathed, before pulling him down to bruise his lips with yours.

His answering growl was almost feral, and then he pulled his hips back to grind forward, deeper, lodging himself within you in a swaying grind, back and forth, back and forth, as his tongue worked in your mouth.

Your muffled moans were joined by the slick, wet glide of his grinding cock going in and out of you, and you hitched your knees up to squeeze his waist, tilting your pelvis to take him deeper yet. Digging your knees into his side, you sucked his lower lip into your mouth when his grinds turned deeper, when he pulled out further before thrusting in harder, working up a rougher rhythm that pounded you into the mattress.

He groaned as you clamped your teeth into his lower lip, his thrusts going harder, and his hands went into your hair, clutching you, holding you so tightly, the sheer possessiveness in his hold made a more resounding thrill rumble through you.

A particular thrust hit that spot inside you, nudging up against your cervix, and you squeaked, your hands clutching his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he growled as your nails dug into his shoulders, his cock hitting that spot again. “Fuck, that’s it, god you feel so fucking good,” he continued, voice strained.

You were gonna come, you were so close, your mind hazy with it. But you needed that final nudge over the edge.

Like reading your thoughts, Rogers propped himself on one elbow, licked the tips of two fingers and brought them down to rub at your clit, flicking the swollen nub almost gently for the way his hips picked up, pistoning your heat. He coaxed you towards your climax, and you were helpless, your hands moving into his hair, clutching his neck, struggling to kiss him back as he pushed his tongue into your mouth again and again.

“I’m gonna come - I’m gonna - “ you gasped, and he moaned sweetly against your lips.

“That easy? No banter this time? No teasing?” he teased with a wicked smirk against your lips, clearly finding satisfaction in you crumbling in his hands.

“Fuck you,” you half sobbed, half laughed in his face, his answering grin adding butterflies to the churning of pleasure in your belly. He was so deep, you didn’t know it could go so deep.

“Yes,” he sighed, continuing exactly as he had, his hips moving in a steady beat against your pelvis, bullying your cunt while his fingers moved almost teasingly against your clit, playing with you so good, keeping your pleasure so securely within his control. It was intoxicating, giving in to him like this. “God, how I’ve wanted you to,” he whispered before claiming your mouth again.

You fell over the edge with a strangled cry, spasming out under him, your knees locking around his waist, pussy pulsing around his cock. He grinded you through it, a broken groan spilling from his mouth into yours, and then he stilled, tensing.

You felt his cock pulse alongside your pussy, and clutched him to you as you relished him coming inside you, relishing finally, finally feeling him come.

He slumped down over you, your chests heaving against each other, and his heavy weight was like a soothing blanket even as reality crashed down on you. You’d just fucked Steve Rogers, Captain America, and you had absolutely no idea where you stood with him, where you stood with his organisation, where you stood in the world in general. You were free falling right now, rootless and groundless, and yet, laying here under Rogers made you feel safe, if only intermittently.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and inhaled his scent, savoring it.

He raised himself all too soon, propping himself on his elbows and withdrawing his softening cock before you could lock your legs over his back and keep him inside. He smiled, lazy and sated, and you found yourself reciprocating earnestly, smiling stupidly up at him.

He gave your nose a peck that irritably made your stomach flip, and then he rolled off, groaning as his back hit the mattress at your side.

“Holy shit,” you breathed after a moment, your body aching in the most pleasurable way.

Rogers laughed gently at your side.

“Yeah,” he breathed, and you saw him turn his head to you in your peripheral vision. You rolled your head to meet his eyes. They were bright, full of satisfaction and still brimming with hunger. They dipped to sweep over your body before returning to your eyes. He rolled to his side and brought his hand up to trace lithe fingertips down your sternum, over your fluttering stomach, around your scar and up again.

Your breath hitched slightly at the touch, and a new flash of arousal bloomed deep in your belly. You took his hand in yours and brought it up to your mouth. Taking one of his fingers into your mouth, you swirled your tongue around the digit, enjoying how his eyes glued to the display. The heat in his dark gaze grew with a crescendo, and a thrill went through you.

“Y/N,” you whispered against his hand.

His eyes widened. You kept yourself from laughing. You repeated the name, some weird feeling of release blooming in your chest.

“That’s my name,” you continued when he only stared at you, feeling uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden.

He repeated the name in a sighing whisper, and it felt like a prayer. Again you wondered what you had done to deserve him, deserve the sheer reverence with which he treated you. But you knew better than to voice that wonder out loud. No, you wanted to bask in it, soak it all up and lock it deep inside you where no one could reach to take it from you.

He looked at you like he’d won somehow, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, and you decided to let him believe it. If it kept him looking at you like that, you found it wasn’t so bad letting him think he had the upper hand. Little did he know he’d already given you so much more. You gave his body a once-over, noticing with interest that his cock was half hard again, or maybe it never went down completely. You cocked your brow at him as he kept smiling like the cat that got the milk.

“How long before you can go again?” you asked.

He flashed you a mischievous, almost feral grin before rolling on top of you.

“I can do this all day.”

#silver fox and the captain #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #captain america fanfic #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america x y/n #captain america smut

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maria021015 · 1 day

Text

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 10 AHEAD!

Zaida and Scott had shared one conversation in total, and it had been the day when she’d relentlessly questioned him about what she had thought at the time was a wolf. It made sitting on his bed in his room as he peeled back her bandage incredibly awkward. Scott and Stiles looked at each other in fort of her with worried expressions.

“It’s healed, hasn’t it?” she asked as dread sank to the bottom of her stomach.

“Yes,” Scott tilted his head but sounded unsure. “But also no.”

“What do you mean? It can’t be both.” she swallowed dryly and pulled up her phone camera as a mirror to check for herself. Her wound was completely scabbed up and the teeth marks had already started to thin.

“You are healing,” Stiles explained further. “Faster than I would, but not as fast as Scott.”

“So what does that mean?” she scrunched her face in confusion. “I’m a werewolf, but just a shitty one?”

“Or maybe, you’re not a werewolf at all. Maybe, you’re something else.” Scott mused.

“Is that even possible? Is there more out there than just werewolves?” Zaida questioned. She didn’t know if she was prepared to accept more than what she’d already been faced with at the moment.

“It makes sense. If werewolves are real why not other supernatural and mythical creatures?” Stiles shrugged.

“So you’re telling me that you have no idea what I might be?” She paled at the thought of having to discover something entirely new without any of them having any experience in the matter. “Well, that’s just fucking fantastic. Can we go see Lydia now?”

The trio took Stiles’ car to the hospital and acted as casually as possible when they passed by the staff to sneak into the girl’s room. She wasn’t supposed to be taking any visitors at the moment even though the experts had cleared her and stated she was on her journey to a certain recovery according to the text Jackson had sent Allison, which she had then passed onto Zaida. The brunette walked into the room first, pretending she was meant to be there. It was empty save for an unconscious Lydia, still hooked up to various machines and devoid of any of her usual spunk and colour. There was a shuffle behind her and she looked back to find Scott and Stiles crawling inside.

“Shut the door,” Scott instructed and the boy with the buzzcut leaned over to push it shut painfully slowly as it creaked loudly, still on the ground. His face cringed at the sound and Zaida rolled her eyes at the two. How they’d gotten this far on their own she had no idea.

Zaida pulled back the blankets and shifted Lydia’s hospital gown to the side, grimacing as she peeled back the bandage to reveal an almost fresh wound, still bleeding. Scott rose to his feet and stood by her side, inspecting the wound for himself.

“Is it completely healed?” Stiles asked, averting his gaze with a disgusted expression, standing just a bit apart from them.

“Not, not at all,” Scott answered as Zaida replaced the bandage and blankets carefully. “Not even a little like Zaida.”

“I don't get it. The doctor said she'd be fine.” Stiles questioned, figuring that if her body had stopped going into shock and rejecting the bite, she must be transitioning.

“Yeah, but the bite's not healing like it did with me. Which means…she's not a werewolf either.” The shaggy-haired boy explained.

“Then what the hell are we?” Zaida’s voice was quiet and shaky.

#teenwolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teenwolf #teen wolf #stiles x oc #stiles #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #scott mccall

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

unlike any other

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x maid!f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut (AH THE HOLY TRINITY)

warnings: mention of blood, mention of wounds,,,,,,,,, sex (but only a lil bit)

requested: nope

word count: 1.8k

summary: bucky barnes, among many things, owns a strip club. y/n works there as a maid, but she has only recently joined so she has no idea who he is. one day, she catches him napping in one of the private rooms after closing time and, not knowing that he owns the place, asks him to leave because it's a "staff only" room. mesmerized by her, he leaves without a word but a few days later, she finds out who he truly is. sparks fly? sparks fly.

author's note: hiya peeps! enjoy!

masterlist

---

James Barnes was tired.

All he wanted to do was go home and get a good night's sleep, but this moron in front of him was proving it to be very difficult. "What aren't you getting about my plan, Johnson?" he growled, a deep glare etched on his face as he disdainfully stared at one of the men who worked for him. "Why are we doing this at all?" Oh, Johnson has quite the mouth on him, can't wait to break all his fucking teeth.

"Are you the boss or am I?" Bucky countered, putting his arms up, exasperated. Johnson was about to reply when Bucky decided he was too tired to deal with him at all. "You know what, how about we talk tomorrow, hm? Leave, now." With an audacious huff, Johnson got up and left the room. As soon as he was gone Bucky groaned loudly.

"That man," he muttered to himself, "Is a fucking idiot. I'm gonna have to talk to Sam tomorrow, why did he even suggest—" Bucky then relaxed back onto the couch he was sitting on, leaning further and further back until he was simply lying down, head resting on the armrest.

James Barnes was tired.

And he needed a fucking nap.

James Buchanan Barnes. He commonly went by the name Bucky, and he ran the biggest, most affluent mob in the city. Currently, he was at a strip club that he owned, which also had private rooms for… basically hooking up, but he never used it for that, using it only to hold meetings with potential allies or his men.

He dozed off on the couch but was able to sleep for only about 30-45 minutes before someone was shaking him awake.

---

“Phew, last room! Why does this place have so many rooms?” Y/N grumbled to herself, opening the door to the private room. She was a maid recently hired by the club, and her job was to clean up all the private rooms after the closing time. They paid her well so she didn’t mind doing the job. When she opened the door, though, she noticed a man sleeping on the couch.

All his clothes were still intact and his hair was also done nicely… She scrutinized him for a while longer, taking note of his handsome, chiselled features and how he dripped of power even when he was asleep. Finally, a few minutes later, she decided to wake him up. However powerful he might seem, the rooms after closing were for staff only and he needed to leave.

“Excuse me, sir?” Y/N gently shook his shoulders, startling him awake. He blinked his eyes open and in his hazy state of mind, he thought there was an angel standing above him. “What?” he yawned and Y/N offered him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, you gotta go, the club is closed for the night and this is a staff-only room,” she told him and he blinked.

She didn’t know him? “I, uh, yeah, I’m sorry,” he complied, sitting up. He took in her appearance as well; she was wearing a cheesy maid’s costume that fit the aesthetic of the strip club perfectly, yet there was a sort of innocence to her, the kind that would make even the most cold-hearted and powerful of them all want to cater to her every whim without question.

“Uh… see ya around,” she raised her eyebrows and Bucky offered her a quick smile, getting out of the room. “Behaving like he owns the place,” Y/N scoffed to herself as she began cleaning up the mess in the room starting with the empty alcohol bottles. She couldn’t stay mad at him for long, though- his handsome face could make anyone’s heart melt. As the thought passed through her head, a small smile bloomed on her face.

Oh stranger, I really hope we meet again soon.

As Bucky drove home, he, too, thought of the maid. Who was she? Why had he never seen her before? And why didn’t she know him? That night, as he went to bed for the second time, all he saw in his dreams was a lovely maid’s costume and a pretty, pearly white smile.

---

“I’m firing that guy,” Bucky told Sam determinedly. A few days had passed since Bucky’s meeting with Johnson and he was more determined than ever to get rid of the guy. Something about Johnson seemed off. “Wh- You hired that guy like a week ago, what happened? He used to work with Pierce and Rumlow before, he can give us valuable intel-”

“What if he never stopped?” Sam quieted at the retort. “He told us how horribly they treated their own men,” Sam answered a little while later. “What if he’s lying?” Bucky asked impatiently. “Give him a chance-” Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Bucky sighed and Johnson poked his head in. “Got a minute, boss?”

“Oh sure, come in, we were just discussing you! Have a seat!” Sam raised an eyebrow at Bucky’s sudden cheerfulness as Johnson happily bounded into the room, plopping down on the couch. “What were you discussing?” he questioned. “How I was just about to fire you,” Bucky smirked and Johnson’s face fell.

He didn’t speak for a few minutes, causing Sam and Bucky to glance at each other. “Hello…?” All of a sudden Johnson stood up with a fit of rage. “Damn it, Barnes, you ruin everything!” Bucky shouted triumphantly as Sam gasped. “I knew you were a fucking two-timer, you son of a bitch!” Bucky yelled at him. “And you made it so easy!” Johnson laughed dryly.

“Why you-” Bucky swung a punch at Johnson’s face, breaking his nose. “What have you told Pierce?!” Johnson retaliated right back by kicking his knee into Bucky’s abdomen, making him fall back. A fight soon broke out between all three of them, so loud that the commotion could be heard from outside.

Approximately 20 minutes later Y/N, who was passing by the room at the time, heard the loud noise and stopped in her tracks. It sounded like… two people fighting. It wasn’t her cleaning time yet, but she still rushed to the door, opening it up with such force that the door loudly banged on the other side. At this, the fight instantly halted.

Bucky was holding an unconscious Johnson by the collar, his fist an inch away from Johnson’s jaw. Both of them looked pretty beaten up, with blood all over their faces and clothes. Sam, meanwhile, was half-lying on the couch, clutching the side of his abdomen with a pained look on his face. Y/N’s hands flew to her mouth at the sight of them.

That was when she recognized the man from a few days ago. Oh shit, he does own the place. Bucky immediately got up and dusted his suit, staring down at a passed-out Johnson with a sneer. “Sam, take him to Wanda, she’ll know what to do with him. And please, for the love of God, go to the hospital.” With the help of a few others, Sam and Johnson left.

It was only Bucky and Y/N in the room now. She continued staring at his face in horror and Bucky chuckled, wiping away a trail of blood near his lips. “That bad?” She snapped out of her trance. “You…” Bucky gave her a wry smile. “Bucky Barnes at your service. And you are?” Y/N blinked a few times before answering. “Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” Bucky looked around.

“Well, Y/N, if you’d be so kind as to fetch me a first aid kit.” She instantly walked out of the room and got the first aid kit for him. When she returned to the room, Bucky was sitting on the couch, his jacket and shirt removed. Even his torso was covered in black and blue bruises. "It looks bad," she blurted out.

"Will you help me clean up?" Y/N couldn't deny him. He was her boss, after all. She sat down next to him and wordlessly started cleaning the blood off his face. He didn't so much as flinch, which Y/N found to be extremely impressive. After all the blood was cleaned, Y/N grimaced when she saw his broken nose. "Your, um, your nose…" Bucky easily grabbed his nose in both hands and clicked it into place.

Y/N flinched badly at the action, making Bucky laugh. "Come on, princess, it's not that difficult," he teased her and she shook her head, a smile blooming on her face. "So, um, I'm sorry about that day," she mumbled as Bucky kept the first aid kit away. "Sorry? For doing your job? Don't do that."

She looked up at him. "No, I- I should've known it was you, and I just… maybe I could've been more polite-"

"Sorry, you gotta go, the club is closed for the night and this is a staff-only room," Bucky quoted verbatim, "You couldn't have been more polite." Y/N's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she shuffled her feet. "Please don't fire me," she whispered under her breath, yet Bucky managed to hear her. And when an opportunity presents itself…

"On one condition."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and nodded excitedly. "Anything you want." Bucky smirked and sat back down next to her, placing his hand on her bare thigh. "Go on a date with me," he breathed out, leaning close to her. Y/N's breath and heart rate hitched at his forwardness, but she didn't have the will to deny him.

He was good-looking, he was rich, he was polite, why not give it a try? Y/N offered him a small smile. "Um, okay, I'd like that a lot," she agreed truthfully and Bucky grinned, pressing his lips to hers without wasting a moment. Y/N kissed him back, cupping his face with her hands.

In the heat of the moment, Bucky bent forward until the back of Y/N's head touched the armrest; still, they didn't pull away from each other. Bucky sneakily got his hand under Y/N's blouse, the skin on skin contact making them both groan. "Ugh, you really are very pretty, you know?" Bucky whispered as he unbuttoned her blouse and threw it away.

He stared in awe at her bra-covered breasts, his shaft twitching impatiently. But, just as he was about to unbuckle her bra, the door swung open. Bucky immediately hid Y/N under him and looked up at a horror-struck Sam, who ran out of the room screaming, "At least lock the door next time, asshole!"

Y/N giggled when she saw Bucky's flustered face. "He's right, you know," she whispered cheekily and Bucky playfully narrowed his eyes at her, attacking her neck with kisses and love bites.

"Talk to me like that again and you'll be in for a long night, pretty face."

"Oh, I'd like to see you try, boss."

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed it!

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

good trope or bad trope: one of them waking up from surgery or something and being so high on drugs they forget they're together and the other has to explain it

good trope GOOD trope good trope! and this was probably just a question but I couldn't resiiiist

-*-

It's kind of sad to think about the fact that Amy is already used to monitors beeping in a cold hospital room around her squad and, mostly, around her partner. They've been in so many horrible situations, so many little moments where she's had to worry about them, that today she's almost glad she doesn't have to. Jake's surgery had neither been scheduled nor planned, and there had been a whole lot of panic leading up to it when she drove him to the hospital wincing in pain, his arms clutched around his lower stomach, but the doctor's told her they came in early enough for it to be a more routine procedure rather than an emergency. And now his appendix was out, and he would be hurting and healing for a while, but the trepidation about that is nowhere close to the fear she's used to feeling while sitting in these uncomfortable hospital chairs, wondering when the person in the bed next to her would wake up. The last time she'd been in this position, Rosa was hooked up to so many many more machines, and she looked like a bad wax figurine of herself, all pale and stiff.

Jake looks almost fine, no breathing mask or tube down his nostril, just a little beeping heart monitor and some infusion in his arm. The nurse told her he'd be waking up soon when she lead her into the room, and that they could probably go home later that evening already.

(She also told her that he'd been one of the more amusing patients she'd had under anesthesia, which was not a surprise, and that he'd been asking for her every time he groggily opened his eyes for just a few seconds, which was not a surprise either.)

He blinks awake slowly, eyes darting around the room as if to figure out where he is, before they land on her and stay stuck, his forehead creasing in confusion for a second before he grins.

"Heyyyy, it'sa Santiago!" He tries in a croaky voice, and Amy reaches for the cup of ice water the nurse brought in to hand it to him. He's shaky, but he can handle it alone, she notes almost subconsciously - she remembers enough moments where she's had to feed him ice chips instead because he could barely move his arms.

"Hey." She answers with a softer smile as he gulps down almost the whole cup - considering he still hates water, he must really need it. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just splendid, thanks." He quips before trying to sit up more and wincing, the stitches in his stomach upset. "What the hell did I do this time to end up here?"

"What?"

"I mean, I don't remember a chase or a fight, but it sure feels like I took a knife to the stomach or something?"

They look at each other, equally confused, before Amy shakes her head.

"You dont remember-? It wasn't a work thing, Jake, your appendix almost burst."

"Ah dang. That's not even a cool story for a new scar." He sighs as he leans back a bit against the pillow and carefully palms the space where she knows the skin is going to be light pink and rougher than usual from now on. "Sorry they made you wait around for my stupid ass to recover, or is the squad at least taking turns?"

She stares at him, her mind racing, and it seems to make him nervous. He's still trying to go for that usual grin, but his eyes are darting around, sticking to parts of her without looking directly into her eyes, and she can see he's getting fidgety. Mixing that with what he's saying, and the way he's saying it - his voice is different, somehow, more - guarded, or distant, it's hard to explain, but she only remembers it from a long time ago - makes her suddenly realise.

He's been given some very heavy duty painkillers and narcotics, she hears the nurse's voice in her head, so he might be disoriented or confused for quite a while. It shows differently in lots of people, so I can't tell you what to expect, but he'll be back to normal once it passes through his system.

He doesn't remember, she thinks. He doesn't remember... a lot.

"Jake." She gets his nervous attention back, trying to school her voice into something calm and friendly, instead of the equally nervous and somewhat excited giggle she wants to let out so bad. "I think you're still working through your medication. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

He leans back again and stares at the ceiling, and it's hard to read the emotions on his face.

"Just... regular work stuff, to be honest. Nothing big."

"Okay, then what is the last big thing you can think of?"

"Uh." He swallows, and Amy refills his water cup, but he doesn't take it. "I, uh, I remember Hoytsman kidnapping me." He laughs a short laugh, obviously trying to make it seem lighter than it ever was, but that's not the only reason Amy feels her heart jump.

His mind is stuck before their relationship. After Sofia left him. He thinks he's woken up after being injured at work, and there's no one there waiting for him except for a work partner who he's been trying so hard to pretend he doesn't like anymore, and for whom he obviously has to play the "I'm okay!" role still.

"Wow. Uh. Okay." She babbles, trying to find a way to be gentle and not confuse him any more. "Then, uh, I guess, well, your medication should pass soon, I think, and you'll remember more, so don't worry-"

"Amy." He's staring at her when she finally looks up, and notes her shorter hair, her far more comfortable outfit than the pantsuits he sees her wear at work, and even while high on drugs it's not that hard for him to put two and two together. "How much am I missing?"

"Quite a lot." She finally admits, but drops her look down into her lap, to her folded hands, and she unconsciously covers her wedding ring before he can see it. "A few years."

"Years?!" He squeals while leaning forward and then groans, because that has definitely upset his wound.

"It's okay, the nurse said it would happen." She quickly tries to calm him. "It's - you'll remember when the anaesthetic passes properly, so it's alright."

"Alright, yeah." He nods and finally settles into the pillow again, as silence envelops them for a few awkward moments, in which Amy's mind races through all the things he's missing right now.

"Okay." He interrupts her sad little mental storybook of their life's drama. "Let's play a game until then, huh? I call it 'Shock&Tell'."

"Jake-"

"It's easy, you'll get the rules. Basically, you tell me stuff I don't know right now and see how shocked you can get me."

"That's not funny-"

"Oh, I think it is. I know how much you like to have me speechless." He grins at her, and she can't resist.

"Title of your sex tape."

"Amy Santiago!" He gasps with a laugh, but there's hesitation in his eyes, and she remembers they weren't exactly at a flirting stage back where he is right now. "For that alone, you have to play a round with me."

"I can't think of anything shocking at the moment." She lies, and he sees right through her.

"Okay, then tell me the worst thing you think happens to me in those years, and the best. From your opinion."

She sighs and stares at her hands again, but she knows he won't let up - he's not gotten any less obnoxious from back then to now.

"Alright. The worst thing. You went to jail." She states, matter of fact, and watches his eyes practically bulge out of his head.

"Holy shi- WhAT?! Like, for a crime? Or-what-did I-what?!"

"You were innocent!" She says as fast as she can, and watches him deflate only a little.

"I sure fucking hope so! But still, what- how- why- ?"

"You and Rosa were framed by a criminally corrupt cop. It took us a few months to get evidence against her and have her sentenced instead."

"A few months." He whispers and stares at his hands, scrunching up the blanket he's wrapped in.

"You weren't alone." Her voice is soft and calm now, seeing him in such a state of unrest, and it takes all she has not to pull him into a hug - it'd probably both confuse and actually hurt him right now, given the stitches. "I mean, you were alone in prison, but we- the squad - we were all fighting for you and Rosa, and Charles and I visited you, and we- I- we never gave up on you."

He smiles, soft and a little broken, but he nods, as if that was something he'd always expect.

"Okay, now the best thing. Because lemme tell you, Santiago, you have to make up for that suckerpunch."

She smiles much wider now, almost grins as she leans forward to finally reach for his hand, entangling their fingers (to which he goes along almost automatically) and feeling her rings clink against the one on his. Jake's eyes are frozen on her hand in his, where he can see a shiny wedding band over what is clearly his Nana's old engagement ring, and he's barely breathing.

"Oh my god." He whispers a moment later, squeezing her hand almost painfully tight as he looks at her again, and she's still smiling.

"We're married?"

"Yeah."

"To- to each other?"

"Yeah, you doofus." She laughs.

"I'm- I'm your husband." He whispers again. "Even thought I went to jail?!"

"Well", she still laughs softly at the absolute shine in his eyes, the awe on his face. "You proposed after that. But I would've married you before, anyway." I would've married you before a lot of things you don't remember, she thinks but doesn't dare say, for fear he'll ask about those other things.

"You're my wife." He says, still stunned, and she nods. "We're married."

She nods again, and watches as the confused awe on his face turns into an almost relieved joy, and his bottom lip trembles as tears start rolling down his cheeks.

"Jake..." She whispers in turn now, her free hand (that is not currently being gripped by both of his) cupping his face and wiping away some of the tears that keep flowing.

"You're happy?" He asks with trepidation in his voice, and Amy wonders if the emotional rollercoaster is another side-effect of his medicine or just his lowered inhibitions. "I'm a good husband?"

"I couldn't wish for a better husband. You make me very happy." She's almost close to tears now herself. "I love you so much."

He gasps at that, and pulls her still gripped hand up to his face, pulling her closer to him in the process.

"I love you, Amy." is his answer, and she realises he means it, even with all the things he doesn't remember, all the things he doesn't know yet. "I love you so much. I can't believe I get to marry you."

His tears have calmed down a little by now, and she fixes her awkward pose of leaning forward and having both arms reach for his face by climbing up onto the bed with him, as he lowers their hands and looks at her with stars in his eyes and so much love on his face, she can't resist to pass the last few inches and kiss him.

His eyes are still closed when she pulls back and touches her forehead to his, and he's whispering again.

"Wow."

"Well, that's certainly an appreciated reaction." She giggles.

"Don't tell me I don't react like that every time you kiss me, because there's no way I'll believe that."

"Yeah." She smiles again as he opens his eyes and smiles back. "Yeah, you kinda do."

And just to prove it, she kisses him again.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet

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bts-reveries · 3 years

Text

expect the unexpected | 23

“It’s okay hyung, everything’s going to be okay. Don’t worry about anything.”

Taehyung’s words ran through Jin’s mind over and over as he sat in Soojin’s room, helping her with her math.

“Three,” Soojin says, answering the seventh problem on her paper. Jin shakes his head.

“No, why would it be three? Try again. Hyunmin has TWO apples but Sewan gives him TWO more. How many apples does Hyunmin have now?” Jin says, repeating the problem again.

“Uncle Yoongi says if you don’t know the answer, it’s always three!” Soojin argues, causing Jin to roll his eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t like school. Hold on, let me grab some actual apples from the kitchen so we could do this visually.” Jin gets up from the floor, walking out of the room. He looks at you two’s shared room as he enters the hallway, seeing that the door is now open.

“Minseok, hand me my phone please,” you say. You were currently sitting at your desk, typing away on your laptop. You had a new client and a bedroom to design. The aesthetic she’s asking for is called Grand Millennial. It’s beautiful. She wants blues and pinks, and gold of course. She just sent you a pinterest board of furniture she likes and photos as to how she wants the room to look like. You typically do this with all of your clients, encouraging them to make pinterest boards on what they want to have in their homes. It makes it easier for you to know what they want and in the end they’re always happy with the outcome.

You’re seeing a lot of paintings here that she pinned and you had the idea to recommend Taehyung to her. A customized piece would complete the whole look of her dream bedroom. She’d get both the look she wants and also a personalized piece.

Now she wasn’t the only client. You have another one you’re working with but this one gives you a headache.

This one doesn’t know what she wants, yet when you give her options she doesn’t like any of them. So right now you’re trying to get to know her so maybe you can help suggest some things that go along with her interests.

But she takes about 2-3 business days just to reply to your messages. Also mentioned she’s not a phone call person so calling her doesn’t help when it goes straight to voicemail.

You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“Minseok, did you hear me?” You ask, turning around. Minseok was in your room, sitting on your bed as he read. He said Haneul kept bugging him and wanted to be with you for some peace and quiet. This was before you put Haneul down for a nap.

Now you’re looking at an empty bed. No traces of your son but the book next to your phone on your side table.

“Nevermind,” you mumble, getting up instead. He probably went to the kitchen or something to grab a snack.

Once got up you suddenly felt dizzy. “Ah.” You have been working for a few hours straight, and didn't eat lunch.

“O- ow,” you say, wincing as your head starts to pound. You close your eyes, holding onto your head with one hand and grabbing on to your bed with the other for support. Your legs were starting to shake and you tried to sit back down on your chair but missed.

THUD.

“Woah what was that,” Minseok says, turning to the hallway. Jin was looking as well when they heard a loud sound coming from one of the rooms. They were both standing around the kitchen counter. He was grabbing the apples for Soojin and Minseok was trying to get a tangerine from the same fruit basket.

“Haneul?” Jin calls, “Are you okay?” Haneul was down for a nap, but Jin thought he might’ve woken up or something, maybe even fell.

“I’m going to go back to mommy’s room,” Minseok says, running off.

“Okay, I’ll check on your brother.”

The two quickly walked to the hallway. Minseok went ahead of Jin while Jin entered Haneul’s room.

“Haneul?” He says, walking into his room. Haneul was still asleep on his bed. “Huh.”

“DADDY!” Minseok yelled. Jin’s eyes widened as he heard the panic in his son’s voice.

He immediately runs to your room, his heart beating faster and faster.

“Mommy’s not waking up,” Minseok says, kneeling next to you on the floor, shaking your arm.

“What happened?” Soojin says, standing from the doorway.

“Minseok go get your brother, and Soojin go grab your jackets and put on your shoes,” Jin says in panic, hooking his arm behind your back and under your knees. He quickly picks you up, heading to the garage.

“Haneul, wake up!” Minseok says, shaking his brother, he runs around his room, grabbing a coat and his slip ons. Haneul blinks his eyes open slowly, turning to the side and watching his brother run up to him.

“Put this on,” Minseok says, pulling Haneul upwards. He hurriedly puts the coat on his brother and shoves his feet into his shoes.

“Oppa hurry,” Soojin says, running to Minseok. She was already dressed, shoes on and a hoodie. “Here,” she says, giving him his own shoes and his own hoodie.

Minseok hurriedly throws on the clothes and Soojin pulls Haneul off of the bed.

“Let’s go!” She says, running to the garage while she dragged Haneul behind her.

“Come on, hurry,” Jin says. Running towards the kids and grabbing Haneul. Minseok runs in front of him and jumps into the van. You were sitting unconscious in the seat Soojin’s car seat usually is.

“Soojin you’re going to sit in the back with Minseok okay,” Jin says, securing Haneul into his carseat. Which was next to the seat you were sitting in.

“Mommy,” Haneul says in a raspy voice. Poor baby, he just woke up and has no idea what was going on.

“Yeah, mommy is not feeling well so we’re going to take her to the hospital okay?” Jin calmly tells Haneul. “Are you two buckled up?” He asks his two oldest, moving his head to the side. They both give him two thumbs up. “Okay good. Minseok, here's my phone,” he says, handing his cellphone to his oldest. “Call uncle Jungkook and let him know that we’re going to the hospital because mommy fainted. Tell him to let the others know and if any of them could come and help.”

“Okay,” he says, taking the phone from his dad. Jin quickly hops out and closes the back door and hops onto the driver's seat.

“Is mommy going to be okay?”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

expect the unexpected

♡ part twenty-three: don’t worry ♡

pairings: ceo, dad!jin x interior designer, mom!reader

a/n: i don’t have anything to say except😭 the part with haneul makes my sister and i laugh bc of this one picture his irl mom posted on instagram once when he just woke up and that’s all we can imagine

taglist: @silentlyimpractical @jillianmarie @waddlebby @cecedrake2217 @ddofa @samros95 @sope-and-shine @joonjoonsmiles @codeinebelle @aianloveseven @Chamchamcham @princessjazzyjazz @notvantaes @casspirit0705 @ramyagovindraj @brinnalaine @ephyra1230 @betysotelo18 @thoughtfultaledreamer @salty-for-suga @cosmicdaylight @dreamcatcherjiah @kookoo-kachoo @justinetingball @josierosie @jayhope88 @butterflylion @hobiismyhopeu @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @ygbubs @catspancake @somewhereofftheglobe @strawberryforever25 @rjsmochii @prdshobi @beeeb05 @eatjeanjin @taekookcaneatme @Cheeely14 @kookietsukkie @anpanman-sonyeondan @glitteringcoffeefreak @chocobetterknot @alpaca1612 @ohmy-fandoms @liljooniecutie @Jikachoo @preciouschimine @fan-ati--c @Joondala @httpmuffin @dammit-jjk @jikooksgirl19

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

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quinncupine · 3 years

Text

Obscured Chapter Ten: We Can Rest When We’re Dead

Chapter Word Count: 6,004

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Female Reader

Previous Chapter: Nine

Next Chapter: Eleven

MASTERLIST

Warnings: angst, blood, major injuries, language, hospital settings, lots of crying, and trauma (and if anyone is worried, NO major character deaths)

Notes: this one gets a bit angsty but thats nothing new😼. There's lots of medical talk so forgive me if I got anything wrong. I hope you enjoy it!

...

"-which means sunny skies until Saturday when the cold front starts to move in. So make sure you grab a coat and bundle up this-"

Click.

"-part of a complete breakfast with Froppy Flakes now with frog-shaped marshmallows-"

Click.

"-annual gala is sure to be a special one. This year the former number one hero All Might will be giving a speech to commemorate-"

Click.

"-just outside of Eridu General now where the number one hero Deku has been taken after suffering serious injuries three days ago. There's still no word on exactly what happened, only that-"

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. You counted to yourself, pausing for an instant to check for signs of life. None. You started again. One, two, three...

"Midoriya." Someone was trying to speak to you, but you ignored them in favor of counting. "Midoriya!"

A hand grabbed your own, forcing you to stop. You ripped it away with a growl, ready to shove whoever was getting in the way of saving your husband's life. It was Haru. Of course, it was Haru.

"Midoriya," he managed to grab your hands and pull them away. "Let them hook him up."

Juichi, one of the younger nurses who you had been training, knelt next to you and cut open his bloodied shirt. The knife had cut deep and left a giant jagged stretch of a mess across his abdomen. Dark red gushed from the hole and two other nurses were quick to clean and wrap hasty bandages over it. That was only a temporary solution, the issue ran much deeper than that.

The most important thing was getting him breathing again, so you let them handle the wound for now. An Ambu bag was placed over his mouth while someone connected an EKG. A few weak marks flashed across the screen. Ventricular fibrillation. You only had minutes at best before he would fall into asystole, something he wouldn't be able to come back from, a permanent flatline.

Haru grabbed the paddles and leaned over him. "Clear!"

Juichi made sure to pull you back as the first shock jolted through Izuku. His back arched before falling limp. Everyone looked at the monitor, still V-fib. Haru cursed and increased the voltage, shocking him again. You dared the machine to give you bad news.

"Dammit," Haru growled and upped the voltage one more time. "Come on. Clear!"

"-and just a few days ago he and his wife Y/N Midoriya were targets of an attack on Eridu bridge. Two weeks prior, Y/N was abducted from their home by three villains, only to be rescued by Deku the following day. Now, the police haven't confirmed whether or not these attacks are connected, but-"

Bakugo snatched the remote out of your hand and shut off the T.V. leaving the room in stiff silence.

"Hey," you tried to grab it back, but he lifted it out of your reach. "I was watching that."

"You don't need to be watching that shit." He muttered and leaned against the wall. "It's all garbage anyway."

"Jerk." You huffed and glanced back at the bed you'd been sitting next to for hours.

Three days. That's how long you sat in this room: waiting, praying, hoping. The only good news was that he'd finally been weaned off the ventilator. Now, you were just waiting for him to wake up, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get the image of him lying on that Emergency Room floor, covered in blood, with no heartbeat out of your head.

You ignored the pain in your hands as you squeezed them together, watching the lines on the machine start to spike. They successfully rebooted his heart, but he was far from safe. He could still crash any minute. They needed to work fast to stabilize him.

"Get him on the gurney!" Haru dropped the defibrillator and stood, yelling out orders. "Juichi, call O.R. They've got incoming!"

Juichi gave your arm one last reassuring squeeze before she rushed to the desk. A gurney dropped to the ground and you reached out to help, but Haru grabbed your shoulder.

"They got it Midoriya." He said quietly.

You smacked his hand away and stood, almost immediately falling over. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, everything was starting to catch back up to you. Your head buzzed and your stomach seemed to be in some sort of internal war with itself. Every inch of your skin tingled as waves of nausea overtook your senses and you dropped right back to the floor again. Both lungs struggled to take in air and the noises around you were getting to be too much.

A hand rested on your shoulder and a deep voice spoke next to you, but you were too focused on trying to stop the world from spinning to even notice.

"Y/N." That voice. You knew that voice.

With shaky eyes, you looked at the man kneeling in front of you. Shoto. When he got here, you weren't sure, you were just glad that he was. He locked eyes with you and he looked so calm, so steady. How was he so calm when the world was closing in around you?

"Take a deep breath." He spoke softly, so different from the absolute chaos happening around you. "It's okay, you did it. You're safe now."

Izuku, now secured on the gurney, was rushed away. The last image you saw was his unconscious, bloody form.

Pale and lifeless. That's what Izuku looked like, laying there, hair covering his eyes, and bandages covering his hair. All those surgeries coupled with healing sessions drained his stamina to dangerous levels. The knife had pierced his liver and nicked one of his lungs. The blood that filled his punctured lung nearly drowned him before they even made it to the O.R. They did all they could do with what they had, now it was just a waiting game. He's been through worse, which meant he would make it through this, he had to. That's what you kept repeating, over and over in your head.

"You've known him longer than I have." You whispered, staring at his unconscious form. "Do you think...do you think he can move past this?"

Bakugo glanced at Izuku, his lips in a thin line. "Deku has always been a bundle of insecurities, I'm probably the reason for most of them." He muttered. "I think he'll have a fucking shit time dealing with this."

That wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it was Bakugo you asked, so you should've expected something like that. With a sigh, you looked down at your bandaged hands.

"But," he crossed his arms, glaring at the remote in his hands before looking up at you. "He's also faced horrible shit all his life and somehow always found the annoyingly optimistic side to things. That was some messed up shit she pulled, but the damn nerd is stubbornly resilient." His voice dropped. "And he has you, so he'll be fine."

Your eyes jumped to him. "What?"

He rolled his eyes and looked out the window. It was quite a dismal day outside. "You heard me, so shut up."

Yup, that was a Bakugo compliment if you ever heard one. It brought the slightest smile to your face to see him so disgusted by what he said. He threw the remote on the table and stomped to the door.

"I'm getting coffee." He grumbled and threw the door open. "Hey, you two!" He yelled at the two officers stationed outside. "Don't let anyone else in until I get back or I'll have your heads. Got it?"

They nodded meekly and he slammed the door shut, leaving you alone with Izuku. It wasn't the first time they left you alone with him, but you still got jitters in your stomach every time they did. You were positive the drug had been completely flushed from his system, but that wasn't the real problem here. The problem was you and your stupid brain still trying to pull a fight or flight, leaning heavily on the flight. It was a ridiculous notion that he would ever purposely hurt you, but your body was telling you otherwise and you hated it.

"Stop it." You growled to yourself, jumping to your feet. "You're fine. It's fine. Everything is fine.."

Maybe if you said it enough, you'd actually start to believe it. Once he recovered, it was going to be a long rocky road back to normal. No, who were you kidding, nothing would be 'normal again. Well, at least for now. Right now, you both just needed to focus on healing and everything would follow suit...hopefully.

A small noise caught your attention and you whipped your head to the bed. Izuku's face was scrunched up like he was in pain and his fingers twitched every now and then. Ever so slowly, he was waking up. You glanced at the door. Bakugo hadn't returned yet and a nervous dread was creeping through your stomach.

His eyes fluttered open slightly but closed just as quick. A small puff of a groan blew past his lips. It was a slow process, painfully slow, but after a few minutes, he finally managed to open his eyes and keep them open, staring at the ceiling in confusion.

"Izuku?" You stood near the end of his bed, stiff as a board.

With a slow blink, his eyes drifted down to you and through the haze of drowsiness he was caught in, he recognized you with a slight smile. A wave of relief washed just a bit of that dread away. You thought you'd never see him smile again.

"Are you- how do you feel?" You wrung your hands, guilt eating you up when your feet refused to move to his side.

His mouth opened and closed again. He did that a few more times before he managed to speak, his voice so hoarse that the words died in his throat. A frown replaced that small smile and his hands came up to rub his face. The motion must have pulled on his wound and he gasped, curling around his midsection.

That finally got your feet moving. You rushed to his side and pulled his hands back down. "Don't move so much yet, you're still pretty banged up."

"Y/N..." he coughed out and you grabbed the water on the table, helping him take a few sips. "Y/N," it came out much more clear this time. "What happ..." The words faded out as his eyes grew wide, searching your face. "No...did I- was it...please tell me it wasn't real. It was just a hallucination...right?"

You couldn't meet his eyes. "You're alright now." Turning away, you set the cup down. "We're alright now."

It was obvious he was still fighting the grogginess from the drugs he was on, but he was apparently lucid enough to remember. You had been holding out hope that he wouldn't be able to remember, like what happened with Kirishima, but this drug was different. Ikari had said it was made specifically with him in mind, something to not just torture him physically, but psychologically as well and it worked. It even seemed to slow his recovery time. Taking this long to even wake up was worrying on its own.

His eyes darted around his room and he tried to sit up. Heavy breaths turned into frantic heaving. "I tried to...I- oh my god." He made it halfway up before collapsing back on the bed with a pained choke. "No, no, no, I can't-"

"Izuku." You gently laid a hand on his chest and he stopped squirming long enough to glance at you. "Stop moving before you hurt yourself more."

"But-"

"No, just...please." Your own bandaged hand squeezed the fabric of his hospital gown so tight it was on the verge of tearing. "I need you to be calm."

He was anything but calm. In fact, he was nearing a complete breakdown if the horrified expression glued to his face was anything to go by. Watery eyes scanned over every inch of you, probably trying to catalog the damage he'd done. You were grateful for the scarf wrapped around your neck, concealing the ugly truth. Seeing that wouldn't do him any good.

"I know how you must be feeling." Staring at your hands was easier than looking him in the eyes. "Well, maybe not exactly but..." Wow, you had no idea what to say.

Ever since he was wheeled away practically knocking on death's door, you'd been thinking of how to handle this. Nothing seemed right. This was an entirely new experience. Something you'd been having a lot of lately.

Biting back a groan, he pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard. The man was covered head to toe in bandages. It was, unfortunately, a sight you were quite familiar with, but that didn't mean it ever got easier seeing him so beat up. This time though, this time was different; his body wasn't the only thing damaged and you weren't sure how to go about repairing this, or even if you could.

Hands covered his face as he tried to even out his breathing. It took everything he had to calm himself down. "I-"

"What do you remember?" You cut him off.

He wiped the trickle of tears from his cheeks. "I remember what I did." His voice was barely audible, but even so, you could hear the utter anguish and guilt lacing it. "Most of its fuzzy, but I-I... you're okay, aren't you?" His eyes dropped to your bandaged hands that you quickly hid behind your back. "I'm so sorry Y/N, I would never-"

"I know Izuku." You cut him off again. "I know. Please don't blame yourself, this isn't your fault."

"But it is." He narrowed his eyes, gripping the sheets. "I'm supposed to be better than this. I'm supposed to be a hero. I'm supposed to protect you. I wasn't good enough and- and you almost died!" He met your gaze. "It is my fault."

"You always do this!" The sudden outburst surprised even you. "You're always the first one to throw yourself under the bus." With a shake of your head, you turned away to pace the room. "I learned to deal with a lot of things that come with your heroics. I learned to deal with the late nights and the last-minute calls in. I learned to deal with all the bruises and injuries that come with the job. I even learned to deal with all the fucking politics involved with this." You stopped to look at him. "But the one thing I can't deal with anymore is this self-sacrificial role you always jump headfirst into as if there wouldn't be anyone left to deal with the aftermath!" You were yelling by this point, but you didn't care. "But you have people who still need you here! I still need you here! Don't you get that?"

He sat there, completely still, staring at you like you were the scariest thing in the world at the moment. "Y/N-"

"No! I want you to get it through that fucking head of yours that you are worth it! I can't lose you...I..." You were quickly losing steam.

A hand rested on your shoulder as someone said your name. The touch freaked you out so much that you practically leaped to the other side of the room with a scream.

Standing where you had been was All Might and Inko, along with Bakugo who was lingering in the back with his arms crossed. They were all staring at you like you were the crazy one. Were you acting crazy? Everything was flying at you too fast. All the thoughts in your head were too fumbled to even form anything coherent.

Air. You needed air. You couldn't stay in this room any longer, not when you were suffocating like this.

Without so much as a word, you bolted from the room. Guilt fought the fear in your stomach as you raced down the hall, not even sure where you were trying to get to in such a hurry, just that you needed to get there. After sprinting down a few halls, you found an open door and ducked inside. It slammed shut behind you and you backed into a corner trying to catch your breath. A few items fell off the shelf and clattered around your feet. Your legs gave way and you slunk to the floor, staring at a few of the cleaning bottles lying around you.

A lone bulb swung overhead, creating moving shadows that danced just outside your vision so you closed your eyes and curled in on yourself. You stayed that way until a faint knock on the door startled you so much that you hit your head on the shelf behind you and a few rolls of paper towels clattered to the floor.

The door cracked open and you figured it was Inko or even All Might that had come to talk, but instead, Bakugo slipped inside. He didn't say anything as he sat on the floor and leaned against the door, staring at you with that same cold expression as always.

After a few silent minutes, you collected yourself enough to finally meet his piercing vermillion gaze. "What do you want?"

"What do you want?" He repeated back. The question didn't make sense to you so you just shook your head. "He obviously didn't say what you wanted him to say, so, what do you want?"

What did you want? Well, you wanted everything to go back to how it was, but that was never going to happen. You wanted Izuku to stop risking himself so much, but that was a choice he made a long time ago and something you agreed to when you first started dating. You wanted to have a happy, carefree life, but that was damn near impossible with a hero. You wanted to be strong enough to handle things the way Izuku could, but you weren't a hero like him. You wanted so many things that were too far out of reach.

"I just...I want everything to be okay." You sniffed, feeling the sting of tears trying to escape your eyes. "Is that too much to ask for?"

Bakugo was silent, his eyes never leaving you.

"I want him to be okay. I want us to be okay." With a huff, you curled your legs up to your chest to rest your chin on. "But it's not. How can anything be okay when I'm just scared of standing in the same room? How is that okay? What kind of horrible person am I?" You searched his eyes for an answer. "He's in there hurting all kinds of ways and I'm just hiding in a utility closet. I want to be in there with him, but I can't make myself go. How can I face him like this?"

"What happened was fucked up. That much everyone can agree on, but you're not afraid of him, you're afraid of what happened. There's a difference." His voice had a softness to it that you'd never heard before. It was strange, but also kinda nice.

Maybe that's why you laughed. Heavy drags of giggles burst out and you dropped your head. It built up to a full-out crazed cackle, but nothing could stop the choked laugher that seemed to bubble up from some dark abyss with no end in sight. Finally, after a few huge gulps of air, you managed to calm down enough to look back up at him.

"Well, tell that to my stupid brain." You huffed.

"What do you want?" He asked again.

"Why do you keep saying that!" You grumbled. "I already answered your dumb question!"

"Because you don't believe it yet." He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "So, I'll ask again, what do you want right now?"

You went back to staring at the mess of cleaning supplies surrounding you and picked up a roll of paper towels to squeeze between your fingers. "I wanna be in there with him."

"Why?"

He caught the roll you threw at him as you gave him your best 'you're an idiot' glare. "Because I care about him. I love him."

"Then you'll find a way." His face scrunched up in disgust when he realized what he said and threw the roll back at you. "Ugh, don't tell anyone I said that."

His playful attitude was enough to shock you out of the somber state you'd locked yourself away in, if only for a minute. "What? That love finds a way?" A trace of a smirk crossed your face. "I didn't take you for a sap Bakugo, it's ruining your bad boy image."

That fiery glare you knew all too well quickly took its rightful place back in his eyes. "Tell anyone and you die." He stood up and held out a hand. "Are you coming or not?"

After a moment of hesitation, you grabbed his hand and he pulled you up. "Hey Bakugo," you said quietly as he turned to the door. "Thanks...for being here."

"Someone needed to straighten your dumb ass out." He grumbled and opened the door.

The two of you made the silent trek back. As much as it surprised you that Bakugo was the one to come find you, it also relieved you. If any of the others found you, they probably would've wanted to have a deep talk, something you just weren't ready to have yet. He kept his space, which you were grateful for. The man was surprisingly intuitive when it came to all this emotional stuff, no matter how much he might try to deny it. No wonder Izuku never lost faith in him. He was, deep down in his heart, a good person, despite the rather abrasive exterior.

When you neared the room, Momo and Shoto who were standing off to the side having a quiet conversation saw you and rushed over.

"Y/N, are you alright?" She asked, hands hovering in front of her as if trying to restrain herself from grabbing you.

"I'm fine Momo, just needed some air." You mumbled, hating the way her eyes frantically fretted over you. "I promise, I'm alright." The door to his room was closed and you couldn't help but stare. "Is he?"

She glanced at it too. "All Might and Inko are talking to him now. We thought it best to give them some privacy."

All Might was probably the person he really needed to talk to at the moment. You freaked out on him and bolted. It wasn't the most encouraging thing to wake up to. This was good. All Might was his father in all but blood. If anyone could help him, it was those two.

"Um, how's Ochaco?" You looked back at her, needed something else to focus on. "She was released this morning, right?"

"Yes, she's recovered enough, although the Chief is speaking with her right now." She said. "But, she should be on her way over soon, especially now that he's awake.

"Good." With a sigh, you rubbed the hair out of your face. "I hope this is almost over."

The door opened, drawing everyone's attention. All Might's lanky form stepped out with Inko in tow. They both looked haggard and grim. Inko was red-faced and sniffling. It was obvious she had been crying but looked like she was trying to keep it together for appearances.

"Hello Y/N." He greeted quietly.

"There you are." Inko pulled you into a hug. "You were gone when we got back."

"Sorry Inko," you loosely wrapped an arm around her. "How is he?"

She pulled back and messed with the tissue in her hand, glancing at All Might. That practiced smile strained to stay on his face.

"He wants to speak with you if you're up for it." Those dark eyes bore into your own.

"Yes," you glanced back at the door, fighting the jitters in your stomach as you forced your feet to move.

Bakugo was right. You weren't afraid of Izuku, you were afraid of what happened. Differentiating the two was just a bit difficult for your body to understand, but it helped knowing.

"Y/N just..." All Might held out his hand, but thought better of it and simply shook his head. "Nevermind."

You cracked open the door and peeked in. Izuku was sitting on the edge of the bed, bare feet scraping against the floor. He was hunched over, messy hair hiding his face. Each deep breath he took ended with a slight pained gasp.

"Izuku?" You called out as the door shut.

He jumped and immediately regretted it, groaning as he doubled over, nearly toppling off the bed.

"Careful!" You rushed over and caught his shoulders before he could fall. "You shouldn't be moving around yet. They could only heal so much with the state you were in."

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He refused to look at you, head stubbornly bowed. "Y/N, what I did...It's unforgivable." His voice was so hoarse, you could hardly hear him.

"Izuku," you stared down at the man trembling under your grip. "Please look at me."

He did, albeit, hesitantly. Your grip tightened on his shoulders and you forced yourself to look into his eyes. They were swollen and bloodshot. He'd been crying, hard. This was also a version of him you were quite familiar with.

There had been so many days when he came home from a long day of work, covered in dirt and grime. He would just collapse in your arms and drain the horrible sorrows of the day through tears. You never shamed him for it, it was just another thing that reminded you of how human, how fragile he was, despite what the public might think. He always felt things ten times the amount his heart should've been able to handle. It was part of the reason you fell in love.

"I don't blame you for what happened. You know that right?"

"That doesn't change the fact that it still happened, that I let it happen." He sniffed and shook his head. "I'm supposed to protect you, not be the reason you're in danger. You put your trust in me and I failed you."

Even after years of trying to show him how great of a hero he was, it was never enough. Not for someone who spent most of their childhood being told they were worthless. That part of his personality, while it had dulled, would never go away, you knew that better than anyone.

You pulled the chair over so you could sit in front of him. "I do trust you Izuku. You were under the control of that psychotic drug. That wasn't you who did that, I know the real you." Your hands drifted down to his own. "I'm sorry for running out earlier. I, well, I don't know. I guess my nerves are still a bit shaken."

As gently as he could, his fingers lightly wrapped around your own. "I love you. The thought of even...are you sure you're alright?"

Alright didn't even come close to describing how you were. No words could describe your emotional state at the moment. It was all still too fresh and you were still too high strung, but now that he was back, things could start to feel better.

"I..." you paused, not quite sure how to say it. "There was a long moment when I really thought that was it. That...that I wouldn't make it out of there."

Izuku covered his eyes, lips trembling. All those tears he was trying to suppress came flooding out. "Oh my god, Y/N, I-"

"No, stop." It was hard to pull his hands from his face. "Please, I'm not blaming you. I could never blame you. I...don't even know why I told you that. I just don't want to keep anything from you."

He stared at you, vision way too blurred with tears to make you out properly.

"Izuku, if the roles were reversed, if I was the one drugged up and turned on you, would you want me to feel the way you're feeling?" You shook your head. "And I know I probably couldn't do much damage, but the fact that I would've tried, would you hold it against me?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then why would I hold it against you?" Tears flooded down his cheeks and you brushed them away with your thumb. "Izuku, you've protected me countless times. Even when you were in that state, you still held back. Look at your fingers." You held up one of the bandaged ones. "I know what you were trying to do. I know you were doing everything you could to hold back. And we both know if you had the slightest inkling of wanting to hurt me, I wouldn't be here right now."

He opened his mouth, but you spoke over him. "And even under that drug, you still took a knife for me." You pressed his hand against your face. "Please don't ever do that again. That was the scariest part of all this. I was afraid I was going to lose you for good."

"I..." He was at a loss for words.

Your eyes drifted down to his gown where a growing red stain was spreading across his chest. "You pulled your stitches." With a sigh, you lifted the gown to get a better look. The bandages were saturated and starting to leak. "Come, lay down, I need to change them."

He did as you asked, wiping the rest of the tears from his splotchy face. The room was silent as you cleaned and redressed the angry red wound. This one would leave a pretty big scar running down his abdomen. He already had so many and you hoped it would just blend in with the rest over time, but the memory would always sting, there was no getting rid of that.

After you gathered all the soiled bandages and stripped your gloves, you pulled his gown back down and looked at his face. He had a few butterfly stitches above his right temple from that glass bottle you threw at him. It was a minor injury, so it wasn't at the top of the list to heal. You carefully reached out and lightly ran a few fingers over it. His eyes never left your face as your hand wandered down to cup his freckled cheek.

"Izuku honey, I love you." Gently, you sat on the bed. "What happened was terrifying, I won't lie, but the most terrifying thing was the thought of you dying. I knew the risks when I married you and I know them now. I made a promise to you years ago. No matter what, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, hero."

He leaned into your hand on his cheek and closed his watery eyes. "I don't deserve you Y/N."

"Nonsense." You rested your forehead against his. "If anyone deserves anything, it's you Izuku Midoriya." He sniffed as you brushed back his frizzy bangs and kissed his forehead.

A hint of a smile finally found its way back to his face and for just an instant, everything seemed right again. Then a knock at the door broke your little moment as the others filtered back in, this time with Ochaco.

"I'm glad to see you on your feet again Ochaco." You stood back up to greet everyone.

Frowns seemed to be contagious around here and Ochaco wasn't spared. She came over, grabbed your hands, and bowed her head. "I'm so sorry Y/N. I wasn't able to protect you."

"Not you too." You groaned. "Would everyone please stop apologizing to me? I'm sick of it and it's making me feel worse, not better." She blinked and you patted her hands. "I'm not angry with you Ochaco."

She straightened up and nodded. "Okay, I'm sorr- um, I mean are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I'm fine." It was an automatic reply by now, but as long as it got everyone off your back, you would stick with it.

"Izuku, I'm glad you're awake." Shoto walked in behind Momo. "Y/N, we're sorry to interrupt, but there's an urgent matter we need to discuss.

Glancing between the three heroes, you noticed All Might or Inko didn't come back in. He was probably keeping her busy while the heroes talked. Were they going to kick you out too? There was no way you were getting left out of anything, not after everything you'd been through.

"Ikari?" Izuku narrowed his eyes.

"Yes." He stood at the end of the bed. "After what happened, she managed to slip away."

"But," Momo spoke up. "She left behind a crucial piece of evidence. A small pouch containing the powdered drug. I've analyzed the components. Now we're just working on an antidote."

"Tsukauchi is tracing the drug now. He'll find it." Shoto finished.

"Wait," Izuku shook his head. "What day is it? How long have I been out?"

"Three days," Ochaco said.

"Three days?" He tried to sit up, only to freeze with a grunt. "That means- we don't have much time."

"Time?" Shoto cocked his head. "What are you talking about?"

"The gala."

"The ga- you're not seriously worried about the gala, are you?" Of all the things, you never expected him to be worried about something so trivial in light of recent events.

He turned to you. "Yes, the gala. It makes sense now."

"The gala." Momo's eyes widened. "You think she's going to strike there?"

"Think about it," he looked at each of them in turn. "It's one of the biggest events of the year and most of Japan's heroes will be there. The timing adds up, I think this is what she was planning all along."

"Wait, if she was able to mass-produce this drug," Ochaco grabbed her chin, "and if she manages to release it at the gala then-"

"Then we'll have a full-scale terrorist attack on our hands." Shoto summed up.

"Not just terrorists." Momo set a hand on his shoulder. "She'll have turned the heroes against each other...into villains."

"We need to shut it down!" Ochaco pulled out her phone. "The gala is tomorrow!"

"Hold on, if we shut it down, she might slip away again." Shoto held out his hand. "This is our best opportunity to catch them."

"You're willing to risk all those people?" Momo turned to him. "Have you forgotten the serious trouble we're already in? Our licenses are on the verge of suspension."

"Momo, this might be our one chance to stop her. We'll know when and where. We-"

"No, Shoto!" She snapped. "We already put one innocent life in danger, I'm not putting more at risk for just a chance to catch her. There has to be another way."

"Everyone's already in danger. She's always been five steps ahead of us." He glared down at her and gestured to Izuku. "I mean, look what's already happened. She managed to take Deku down. He was our powerhouse! We only survived because she decided to leave. Not retreat, but leave. We didn't win, we lost- miserably."

"Let's just calm down for a minute," Ochaco tried to interject. "Let's think this through."

"If we don't do this then she might target somewhere else. We'll have the advantage. We can control this." Shoto turned to Izuku. "What about you? What do you think?"

Izuku had gone silent, eyes darting back and forth as he thought it through, quietly mumbling to himself. Some things never change. "Any decision we make is risky. We need a plan that minimizes those risks." He pinched his bottom lip.

"You have an idea, don't you?" Shoto crossed his arms.

"Maybe," he looked up at him. "But pulling it off in a day is going to be a challenge."

Taglist: @miriobaby @dorki-time @thecindy @sailorstupidsblog @awilddreamerwrites @kehlaniwwe @kenmaskitten10 @slytherintothedms @chanyeoloml @tanakasprayer @kiyoobi @peachsenpie @amive2567

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tails89 · 3 years

Text

Unbreakable

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz Rating: T Warnings: None Words: 2.7k

Read on AO3

All it takes is one split second.

Buck had been right there beside him, talking into his radio, confirming they were on their way out.

And then he was gone.

The floor had caved in beneath them with a thunderous crack and somehow—Eddie still can’t fathom how— somehow, Buck had managed to shove Eddie to the side before disappearing in a shower of smoke and smouldering wood.

“Buck!” He screams, kneeling on the edge of the hole and peering over. He can see the yellow stripe on the back of Buck’s coat, unmoving beneath the debris. “Captain Nash, this is Eddie.” He fumbles with the radio. “Buck is down. He went through the floor, I can’t— he’s not moving.”

He doesn’t wait for the reply. Eddie scrambles to his feet heading back towards the staircase that will take him to the ground floor.

“Chim is on his way to you.” The radio crackles to life. “Can you get down to Buck and give us a report on his condition?”

“Yeah, copy that.” Eddie takes the stairs, two at a time. “I’ve almost got him.” He skids to a halt, dropping to his knees beside Buck. As far as he can tell, the turnout gear has protected him from serious burns, but the fact that Buck’s unconscious is a serious concern.

It’s probably only been a minute or two, time moves at a strange pace when you’re trying not to panic, but any blow hard enough to knock someone out is dangerous.

“Buck?” Eddie knocks away bits of debris. “Can you hear me? Open your eyes, cariño.” He rubs his closed fist against Buck’s chest, breathing a sigh or relief when it prompts a groan from the younger firefighter. “Hey, there you are. Just stay still for me.” His heart is still pounding as he clears a space around Buck, afraid to move him before Chim arrives but also mindful of the burning building around them.

“Eddie?”

“I’m right here.” He leans into Buck’s field of vision. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”

Buck blinks up at him, his eyes fluttering shut for a second before he drags them back open.

“Don’t even think about it,” Eddie warns, glancing up as another figure arrives. “Eyes open Buck, or I’ll tell Chim what you said about him this morning.”

“What’s this?” Chim asks, kneeling opposite Eddie. “Buck’s talking shit about me again?”

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Buck mumbles.

“If you say so, Buckaroo.” Chim moves quickly, assessing Buck’s ability to move before nodding to Eddie.

“Alright, time to get out of here,” Eddie says. “Let us do all the work okay?”

“You’re good at that, right Buck?” Chim pipes up, earning a pained smile from their patient. They each hook an arm across their shoulders and heft Buck upright. He groans, eyes squeezing shut from the movement.

Eddie and Chimney carry him out into the fresh air, carefully lying him down away from the fire, then get to work.

Hen joins them as they strip him of his jacket and start a more thorough assessment of his injuries. Eddie kneels by his head, keeping up a steady stream of reassuring chatter as Hen and Chim poke and prod and jostle.

Buck doesn’t say anything, just gives short jerking nods when he’s asked a question, eyes scrunched up in pain and discomfort.

Eddie reaches down to grab Buck’s hand; the one Hen hasn’t just inserted an IV into and gives it a squeeze. The fingers in his grip tighten in response.

“Ready to transport, cap,” Hen calls out when she’s done. The three of them get Buck on the backboard and transfer him to the stretcher.

“Bobby?” Eddie glances over at his captain, still clutching Buck’s hand.

“Go,” Bobby tells him. “Keep us updated.”

With a nod, Eddie follows Chimney up into the back of the ambulance.

The ride to the hospital is tense, even with Chimney cracking jokes to lighten the mood.

Buck is in and out, drowsy with a probable concussion and who knows what else. Eddie can feel the panic clawing at his throat, but he manages to keep it together, never once letting go of Buck’s hand until they reach the hospital. He focuses on the point of contact, using the warmth of Buck’s skin to keep grounded and remind himself that Buck will be okay.

It feels like it takes no time at all to reach the hospital. Hen does the handover while Chim and Eddie help transfer Buck from the stretcher to a bed.

“Let us know what happens,” Chim says, giving Eddie a clap on the shoulder, and promising to be back after their shift.

The hospital staff try to send Eddie away too, but Buck has come around enough that he is not having that.

“I’m his partner,” Eddie explains, laying a calming hand on Buck’s shoulder. One of the nurses has cut away his pants to inspect the burns on his leg and another is tearing through his shirt. “Please, I won’t get in the way.”

Buck is pretty out of it once they give him some pain relief. He gets wheeled away for imaging tests and Eddie takes the opportunity duck outside to text Bobby an update and call Carla to ask if she can take Chris to stay with his aunt.

Chris, of course, immediately wants to come and stay with Eddie at the hospital.

“It’ll be boring, kiddo,” Eddie tells him. “Just lots of waiting around and Buck will probably be asleep.”

“But what about when he wakes up?” Chris asks. “He shouldn’t wake up alone, dad.” And Eddie just can’t with this kid. He wonders, not for the first time, how he managed to raise someone with such a big heart.

“He won’t be alone,” Eddie promises. “I’ll be here, and maybe tía Pepa can bring you over in the morning. I know Buck will want to see you when he wakes up, but tonight he needs his rest.”

“Okay, dad.”

Eddie doesn’t need to see his son to know how hard he’s pouting at the phone right now.

“Tell Buck I love him.”

“I will. You be good for Pepa. Love you.”

“Love you too, dad.”

Eddie disconnects the call with a sigh then goes to check his messages. There’s a text message from Chimney saying he’d called Maddie.

“Shit.” Eddie quickly scrolls to her number. He’d completely forgotten in all the chaos—Maddie should have been the first person he’d called.

“Eddie?”

“Maddie, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t worry about it, Chim called me and let me know what happened. How is my little brother?”

“He’s going to be okay.” Eddie rattles off some of the words that had been thrown around in the emergency room. “Concussion, second degree burns on his legs, maybe cracked ribs?” He takes a deep breath. “They’re doing some more testing to determine the severity of the concussion, but they didn’t seem overly concerned.”

“That’s good news at least,” Maddie says. “Evan just can’t do things by halves can he?”

Eddie huffs out a soft laugh. “Half-assing it just isn’t in his vocabulary.” The ball of anxiety that’s been sitting in his chest for the better part of an hour finally starts to unwind.

“I’ll be there soon,” Maddie says. “And Chim said he was going to head over. Have you eaten yet? I’ll bring you something.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Eddie assures her.

“I know, but you must be starving. Chim definitely will be.”

“Thanks Maddie.”

“I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah.” The call ends with a beep and Eddie shoves his phone back into his pocket. He’s still wearing his turnouts, he realises belatedly. His coat is draped over the chair behind him, his helmet balances on a knee.

“Mr Diaz?” One of the nurses beckons him over. “We’re admitting Evan,” she tells him. “If you’d like to come with me, I’ll take you up to his room.”

“He’s okay?” Eddie follows her down the corridor towards the elevator.

“Nothing nasty turned up in the MRI,” she explains. “His helmet protected him from any skull fractures, but he still got his brains rattled about pretty good.”

The elevator doors open with a ding, and they step inside.

“He’s got a couple of cracked ribs and the burns on his legs will need to be monitored to ensure they don’t get infected.”

“How long before he can come home?” Eddie asks.

“His doctor wants to keep him overnight to monitor the concussion, but all going well, he’ll likely be released tomorrow, maybe the day after at the latest.”

When the lift stops, she leads him out to a room on the ward. Eddie pushes the door open to step inside.

“Buck?”

The lights are low, but it’s still easy to make him out on the bed. Eddie drags a chair over, taking a seat at Buck’s side.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I fell through a floor and had the whole house land on me,” Buck croaks, looking a lot more alert than the last time Eddie had seen him. He’s still pale and drawn, but it’s good to hear his voice.

“Well—”

“Don’t say it,” Buck groans. He swallows, his face paling even more, something Eddie wouldn’t have thought possible. His birthmark stands out in stark relief against his skin.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, reaching for Buck’s hand. He rubs circles into the skin of Buck’s wrist.

“Nausea.”

“I can help with that.” The nurse who’d shown Eddie up to the room is still hovering nearby. “I’ll go have a chat with the doctor and be back in a minute.” She hands Buck an emesis basin before she leaves, just in case.

Alone in the room, Eddie reaches with his free hand to run his fingers through Buck’s hair. He’s careful not to use too much pressure and aggravate anything but Buck seems to appreciate it, sinking down further into his pillow.

“How are you really feeling?” Eddie asks, his thumb trailing across Buck’s temple.

“Like shit,” Buck mumbles. “Nothing… hurts? But I know it’s going to later.” He shuts his eyes, swallowing convulsively to keep from being sick, clutching the basin in his free hand.

Fortunately, the nurse returns before he has to use it. She gives him something and leaves them alone again.

“You should get back to Chris.” Nausea dealt with, Buck is loose-limbed and sleepy, blinking up at Eddie.

“Chris is fine,” Eddie assures him. “He’s spending the night with Pepa. He wants to come by and see you tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Mm, I’d like that.” Buck’s eyes drift shut and his breathing evens out into sleep.

Eddie watches him for a moment, still running his fingers through Buck’s hair, until he’s sure he’s truly out. He pulls out his phone to see that Maddie, Chim, Bobby and Hen have all arrived.

He stands, pressing a kiss to Buck’s forehead and goes downstairs to meet his family.

Maddie is the one who convinces Eddie to go home.

He’s grimy with sweat and soot from the fire they had been attending and she gives him her best big sister stare and tells him under no uncertain terms that he stinks.

“And I mean that in a loving way,” she says, handing over a box of Chinese takeout.

He sits outside with Chim and Hen to eat, while Maddie and Bobby head upstairs to check on Buck for themselves.

“How’s our boy doing?” Hen asks.

“He’ll be fine,” Eddie says. “He’ll be sore and grumpy when I take him hope, but you know Buck.”

“Yeah, I don’t envy you there,” Chim says. “Buck is the worst patient, so have fun with that.”

After they eat Bobby gives him a ride back to the station to collect his car.

“I’ve called Marcus in to cover your shift tomorrow,” Bobby says as Eddie is climbing out of the car. “If you still need time after your days off, let me know.”

“Thanks Bobby.”

“Don’t mention it, you just take care of Buck for us. And take care of yourself too.” Bobby drives off and Eddie walks to his car before he starts getting too many questions from B shift. Buck is a well-liked member of the 118 and everyone wants to send Eddie off with well-wishes to pass on.

It’s late by the time Eddie finally gets home.

With Chris off at Pepa’s and Buck at the hospital, the house is dark and quiet. Too quiet, in Eddie’s opinion.

He turns the TV just to give himself some background noise while he showers and changes for bed.

It takes a long time to fall asleep.

Eddie picks Chris up in the morning on his way back to the hospital.

Chris has a thousand questions about what happened, and will Buck be okay, and when can they bring him home.

It strikes Eddie that he’d said the same thing the night before. He’d asked the nurse when he could bring Buck home.

For all the time they spent together and as much as Buck was a part of the family with Eddie and Chris, he did still technically have his own apartment. Not that he used it that much. Eddie had been able to pack a bag using the clothes Buck had stuffed into a drawer in Eddie’s room. There was a toothbrush on the sink for when Buck stayed the night.

Maybe it was time for Eddie to finally ask Buck to move in.

The thought keeps him distracted the whole way to the hospital. He’s still mulling it over as he helps Chris down from the back seat and leads the way up to Buck’s room.

“He’s asleep, dad.” Chris is disappointed when they open the door and Buck is still fast asleep.

He’s got a bit of colour in his cheeks this morning. He doesn’t look quite so pale against the starched white hospital sheets.

“You sleep a lot too when you’re not feeling well,” Eddie reminds his son, pulling up a second chair and moving Chris’s crutches to a spot where they’re not going to trip anyone up. “Have you got your game with you?”

Nodding, Chris pulls his Switch from his backpack, content to play his game while they wait for Buck to wake.

It doesn’t take long. The thing with hospitals is that they’re never really quiet and Buck jerks awake when something is dropped just outside his room.

“Hey, you.” Eddie leans forward in his chair and waits for Buck to get his bearings. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh, I feel like shi—” he notices Chris on the other side of the bed, “-t.” He grimaces. “Sorry, brain could thing of anything fast enough.”

“I think we’ll let it slide this time,” Eddie says, grinning.

“Dad says sometimes bad words are okay.” Chris puts away his game and stands, shifting his weight so he can lean against the bed for balance. “I’m glad you’re okay Buck, I missed you last night.”

“I missed you too bud,” Buck says, reaching out to ruffle Chris’s curls. “Just seeing you makes me feel better already.”

Chris beams at the words and Eddie feels his heart swell.

“So,” Buck shifts on the bed, his face tightens as he jars something, probably his ribs, but he doesn’t mention it. “Any idea when I can get out of here?”

“I was talking to a nurse last night who said you’ll probably be released today,” Eddie tells him. “But we’ll have to wait until the doctor gives you the okay.”

“Hospitals are the worst,” Buck groans, his head tipping back against the pillows. “Right Chris?” Chris nods and Buck pats the bed. “Why don’t you show me the game you were playing while we wait.”

Buck is discharged late that afternoon.

He makes a fuss about using the wheelchair, but when he tries to stand all the blood drains from his face and he has to sit back down real fast.

“Ready to try the wheelchair now?” Eddie asks him, keeping a gentle hand on Buck’s shoulder in case he tries to faceplant again.

“Yeah.” The word comes out in one long breath. “Sorry, I didn’t think it would hurt that much.”

“When we get home, I’ll make up the couch for you,” Eddie says, “and you’re staying there for the rest of the week.”

“Home?” Buck glances up sharply.

“My home,” Eddie clarifies, then after a moment’s hesitation says, “Our home.”

“I like the sound of that,” Buck says, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Okay Eds, take me home.”

#911 #buddie #evan buckley x eddie diaz #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hurt/comfort #shameless whump #hurt!buck #happy ending #911 fanfic #my911fanfic

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songsformonkeys · 3 years

Text

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 4

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 4

Your hands were shaking from exhaustion where they rested in your lap, clutching the bloody face mask you had been wearing for the past several hours. Your scrubs looked like a failed tie-dye experiment in light blue and red and the light in the room was unforgivingly bright, illuminating the aftermath of the surgery in stark detail.

They had wheeled Whiskey out of here about half an hour ago if your sense of time was still reliable. As soon as he and the others were out of the room, you had slumped down onto a chair and you hadn't been able to get up since then.

The pilot had said that Whiskey was stable on the way back but there was a reason you were the medical expert in this operation and not him because stable wasn't the adjective you would have used. Sure, you had been fairly confident that he wouldn't die, but that confidence had been more due to faith in your skills rather than a lack of severity in Whiskey's condition. Multiple stab wounds to his right thigh, his right arm, and a particularly nasty one in his side, as well as a broken leg, broken pinky finger, a cut across the bridge of his nose, and bruising that was out of this world. The pilot had said that Whiskey had fallen out a window and the bloody mess that had been placed in front of you made you believe that. The detail that, surprisingly, had been the most jarring was the fact that Whiskey hadn't been wearing his hat. His head had looked small and vulnerable without it and you had reached out to stroke it before you'd had time to process what you were doing. The others had definitely noticed but neither of them had said anything.

If it had been anyone but Whiskey on that table you would have gotten a thrill from the challenge of putting them back together (another thing Tonic had forbidden you from saying out loud) but, when it was him, the urgency of your movements was instead driven by fear. It was something you weren't familiar with. The fear that you would make a mistake and that you wouldn't be able to save him messed with your head and, more than once, you had to physically shake your head to get the thoughts to stop pestering you. One of your assistants, you couldn't remember who since you had been so focused on Whiskey, had offered to switch with you. She was probably worried that your friendship with the patient would affect your performance. You had refused. You were the one best equipped at handling this and if Whiskey were to die, he would die by your hand. Only then would you have been able to accept that everything had been done that could be done to save him.

Luckily, Whiskey hadn't died. It had taken hours but in the end, you had managed to patch him up and when you declared him stable it was actually the truth. It would still be hours before he woke up and when he did, he would no doubt be in a lot of pain but the immediate danger was over. Whiskey would live and you could relax. Or collapse, depending on whom you asked.

Your legs felt like lead, your mouth was dry and you could feel a massive headache building behind your eyes. You should go back to your apartment, get some sleep before Whiskey woke up, but it was as if your body had stopped cooperating. It didn't worry you. You were sure you would regain control over your body at some point, preferably sooner rather than later.

Another 20 minutes passed without any luck in that department but you never got to find out just how much longer it would have taken because, once those 20 minutes had passed, the door opened. You turned and saw Tonic standing there. He looked at you and then at the state of the rest of the room.

“Whatcha doing here, Moonshine?” he asked a little hesitantly as he stepped into the room.

“My legs don't work,” you replied stupidly. And inaccurately. Your legs worked just fine, you just weren't in control of them at the moment. It was a purely psychological thing which, as luck would have it, was Tonic's field of expertise.

“I'm not surprised,” he said, “You've been down here for hours. I hear Agent Whiskey owes you one hell of a thank you when he wakes up.”

You shrugged as Tonic gently pried the face mask from your hands and tossed it in a trashcan. You began protesting that the trashcan wasn't the place to dispose of the bloody mask but Tonic calmly hushed you.

“The assistants are waiting just outside the door for you to leave so they can clean this place up properly.”

You looked towards the door with a look of confusion.

“Why didn't they come inside?” you asked. Tonic gave you a slightly awkward smile.

“They were...worried about you,” he settled for and you didn't have the energy to question him for further details right now. He held a hand out and as you took it, he pulled you to your feet. Your legs felt surprisingly stable and normal and you shifted a little from foot to foot.

“Let's go get you cleaned up,” Tonic said and you nodded, following him outside.

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

Sitting still at a sick or hurt person's bedside had never been your thing. You'd watched families and friends do it, and the gesture of just sitting there and maybe holding their loved one's hand had always seemed to bring them comfort and calm. It wasn't entirely clear why. The act probably wouldn't do much to increase the chances of survival of the person they cared for. Although, you supposed it probably wouldn't make it worse either.

You had never sat at someone's bedside that way. Hadn't known anyone who got sick or hurt enough to end up in a hospital. With your parents, they had been gone too quickly for there to even be a trip to the hospital. Every other sick or hurt person you had seen had been your patient, which meant there had been plenty more useful things for you to do than sit by their bed and pet them.

With Whiskey, the lines were...blurred. He was your patient but he was also your friend. And the knot of worry in your belly just kept growing, even though you knew the surgery had gone well. So when you entered his room and found him sleeping in his hospital bed, hooked up to a whole array of medical equipment, you figured that maybe it was worth a try just to see what all the fuss was about.

You dragged a chair over to his side, sat down and took his hand, just like you'd seen others do. But almost immediately you noticed that it didn't feel right. It felt weird. Whiskey's hand was warm and it felt strong even in his unconscious state. Under different circumstances, it wouldn't have been an unpleasant hand to hold. But now, the hand was way too still in your grip and the lack of jokes and flirty remarks was a clear reminder that something was wrong. There was no way Whiskey would have let you hold his hand like this without teasing you mercilessly about it.

For five minutes, you sat there, waiting for the sense of calm and comfort to kick in. All it did was make you go over, in your mind, all the things that could have gone wrong with the surgery, all the ways Whiskey could have died. It made your chest hurt and after five minutes you couldn't take it anymore. So you stood up and instead busied yourself with checking every single one of Whiskey's vitals on the monitors, the IV drip, the bandaids covering his stitches. This was you in your element and as you noted that everything seemed fine, the calm you had been longing for finally began to creep in. It was mingled with pride over the excellent job your colleagues had done.

“You're in good hands,” you smiled and told Whiskey, absent-mindedly, as if you expected a response. When it didn't come, your smile dimmed a little and you went back to check the monitors.

You had been told that he would wake up soon. That the anesthetics should be wearing off within the next half an hour. You didn't want to leave before then. Didn't want Whiskey to have to be alone when he woke up.

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

It took another twenty minutes before he did, during which time you'd tinkered with the medical equipment, smoothed out his blanket several times, and tried a second time to hold his hand, with the exact same result as last time.

The almost inaudible groan from the bed, when he finally came to, caught your attention instantly and you watched the way Whiskey's pulse sped up slightly on the monitor before you moved to his side where he would be able to see you.

You waited, holding your breath, for several seconds before Whiskey slowly blinked his eyes open. His gaze moved aimlessly around the room before finally landing on you, although there were no signs of recognition so it was unclear how much of what he was seeing that were actually registering. He opened his mouth and tried to speak but only a soft wheezing noise came out. He closed his eyes and you moved closer, wanting to tell him not to go back to sleep again. He looked so pale and it scared you.

When Whiskey opened his eyes for a second time, his eyes found yours again. He opened his mouth again to speak and this time he managed to get a single word out, though it was barely more than a whisper.

“Angel.”

You felt yourself pale as fear gripped you like an icy fist. Angels? Why was Whiskey seeing angels? Was something wrong? You'd looked at the monitors only a moment ago and everything had been fine. Was there something you were missing?

“W-what?” you asked, eyes wide and afraid. Whiskey looked at you and he must have seen your fear because a second later his eyes widened too. He opened his mouth and made a noise that sounded like a pained grunt. For a second you were at a complete loss at what you do. Whiskey was dying and seeing angels but you were monitoring everything going on in his body and there was nothing wrong. Broken bones and stitches, sure but there was nothing that should be killing him right this second.

Whiskey made the same sound again and then a third time before you realized that they weren't just grunts but him trying to speak. You leaned closer.

“Youu,” Whiskey wheezed.

“Me? Me what?” you asked and you could have sworn to God that Whiskey actually rolled his eyes at that.

“Angel,” he forced out and it took you a moment to realize. When you did, you dropped into the chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut and, with a relieved sigh, you leaned forward to rest your face against the mattress of his bed.

“Don't scare me like that,” you mumbled into the sheets, unsure if Whiskey would even hear you. He might have because you felt fingers move next to your face before the pad of one of Whiskey's fingers touched your left temple. Maybe you were just imagining but the touch felt like an apology. You stayed still for a little bit, letting Whiskey gently stroke the inch of skin which he could reach. It felt nice.

After a short while, Whiskey's finger stilled. When you turned your head slightly to look at him, his eyes were closed again but there was a small smile on his face.

You snuck out, as quietly as possible, not to wake him up.

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

“Hiya! How's Whiskey?” Tequila asked as you entered the office next to Harry's cell. You threw a glance at the one-way mirror and saw Harry sitting cross-legged on his bed, scribbling something into a notebook.

“He's...as good as can be expected... considering...” you told him and Tequila looked relieved. You knew the two agents had worked together on several missions and despite them bickering like an old married couple it was obvious to everyone that they cared for each other. “Give him a day or so to wake up a bit more and then you can go see him if you like,” you added and Tequila shrugged.

“We'll see,” he said, “Don't want him to think I miss him too much. Besides, I quite enjoy the peace and quiet around here without his constant hurrying about.”

It was a lie and you both knew it. Besides, the base had been anything but peaceful and quiet for the past two days. You and Tequila had been spared since you were both otherwise occupied, with Whiskey and Harry respectively, but the rest of the base was in a state of organized chaos trying to make sense of the sudden surge of violence all over the world yesterday. There were a couple of other agents who'd also been hurt yesterday but those injuries had been minor enough that they either had taken care of them by themselves or they'd been taken care of by the rest of the medical team once they got back. Whiskey seemed to be the only one from the Statesmen who'd suffered any severe damage, although the death toll among the civilians were staggering.

The agents that had been out on missions when the violence happened all had similar stories of what had gone down. They described that it had been as if a sudden rage had taken control over them and they had been powerless to stop it, hadn't even wanted to stop it. Then, just as suddenly as it had flared up, the rage had disappeared and it had only been then that the agents had realized the consequences of their actions. A couple of them had killed civilians. Two of them had tried killing each other but luckily neither had managed. Tonic had set up shop in Champs office all day to gather as much information as possible about what had gone down. You did not doubt that Whiskey would be put through the same questioning as soon as he was well enough to talk.

No one had any clue why the violence had happened but Ginger was confident that it had something to do with the extreme low-frequency signal she had picked up before bringing Harry in. Speaking of. You nodded in Harry's direction.

“What is he doing?” you asked. Tequila turned to look as well before he answered.

“Drawing, I think,” he said with an almost soft smile in Harry's direction, “He asked for some pen n' paper earlier and I figured there wouldn't be any harm in giving him that.”

“So Tonic has cleared him for handling sharp objects then?” you asked a little curiously and Tequila paled and stuttered. You held your hands up in a calming gesture.

“I'm sure it's fine. If I were him, I would want to figure out where I was before killing myself or anyone else.”

Tequila didn't look at all comforted by this.

“All the same, we should probably...” he said and got up from his chair while gesturing vaguely towards Harry's cell. You nodded.

“He's due for his medical check-up anyway.”

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

The check-up went quick and painless. Harry sat patiently on the edge of his bed while you examined the healing wound under his eye patch and at the back of his head. All was looking good and healing properly. You asked him about any pain, loss of motor function, or if he had noticed anything strange or painful besides the memory loss. Harry shook his head and said that besides not having any memories from half of his life, everything was just fine. You noted the tone of sarcasm in his voice and gave him an apologetic smile.

As you examined Harry, Tequila tried to stealthily smuggle the pen into his back pocket. It wasn't something you or Harry noticed as he was doing it but it became obvious once the examination was done and Harry turned to pick up his notebook again.

“My pen,” he said, looking at the floor around the table, “It must have rolled off...Do either of you see it?”

You shook your head in mock confusion but Tequila immediately folded and blurted out his confession.

“I took it!” he admitted.

“Oh?” Harry said, confused. You looked at Tequila with a raised eyebrow. You did know for a fact that they let this man out on undercover missions, and that he almost always came back successful, but after the display you had just witnessed you definitely began to wonder just how he managed that if this was him under pressure to lie.

“I'm sorry, sir,” Tequila said, straightening his back, “I know I said you could have it but then my colleague here reminded me that we don't want you to hurt yourself.”

“Hurt myself? On a pen?” Harry asked with a frown before he let out another “Oh...” he cleared his throat and looked between you and Tequila.

“Mister...Tequila, miss...Moonshine. Let me assure you that I am in no danger of hurting myself. It seemed I've cheated death once already, for which I am very grateful. Now I simply wish to get well enough that you would allow me to go home...as soon as we figure out where that is.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tequila begin to reach for his back pocket so you quickly spoke.

“I'm sorry, Harry. It's just the protocol. But I'll try and have To...Tom come by later to talk to you about having some pens in here.”

Harry looked a little disappointed but he nodded and resigned to a penless afternoon.

You and Tequila stuck around a bit longer to talk to Harry. You found out that what he had been drawing in the notebook were butterflies. He told you that it calmed him. Tequila looked at the drawings with something akin to awe and declared Harry a proper artist. You and Harry laughed at the young agent's excitement.

When you and Tequila eventually had to leave, you both felt a little bad but Harry assured you that it was okay. He had books to read until Tonic/Tom got there.

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

You swung by Whiskey's room on the way back to your office to write today's report. He was sleeping again so you only stayed a couple of minutes to check on him. Before you left, you stopped at his bedside and reached out to stroke a lock of dark hair from his forehead. Checking for a fever, you told yourself, even though you had his exact temperature on a screen to your left.

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

Over the next few days, things calmed down on several fronts.

Tequila and Tonic took turns keeping Harry company. The Englishman had been cleared to get his pens back and spent most of his days drawing. Harry was a sweet and caring man and the more time either of you spent with him, the harder it was to believe that he was actually intelligence. Every time the door opened to his cell, Harry started and then apologized for being startled. He was a proper English gentleman. One day you had walked into the office next to the cell, only to find it empty, and as you looked into Harry's cell through the mirror, and saw Harry in the middle of teaching Tequila how to properly make tea. The younger agent had looked deeply concentrated.

The agency still wasn't sure about the motive behind the violent attacks all around the globe but Ginger had managed to trace the source of the extreme low-frequency waves to peoples' cellphones and a couple of days later news reached the world that billionaire Richmond Valentine had passed away. The exact cause of death wasn't revealed but the timing of it all was highly suspicious.

The Statesmen had also sent several people from the medical department out to assist at various hospitals, that were now filled to the brim with people hurt in the attacks. Only you and two others of the medics stayed behind, in case of an emergency and to care for Whiskey.

Whiskey was slowly but steadily getting better by the day. He was still weak and, even though he refused to admit it when anyone besides you were in the room, he was in a lot of pain. You spent more time with him than strictly needed, from a medical point of view, but both of you enjoyed the company.

Whiskey had no memory of what had happened but he found the anecdote about him scaring you with the angel comment highly amusing and laughed out loud, before promptly doubling over in pain and turning pale as a sheet. You kept the amusing anecdotes to a minimum after that.

Tonic came in to question him about what had happened during the attack. Whiskey's story was similar to the others. He explained that he had been fine when he was alone in the room and talking to you, but as soon as the other man had gotten in through the door the rage had consumed Whiskey too and they had fought in the room, outside the room, running down several flights of stairs before Whiskey had managed to overtake him. Whiskey hadn't noticed the other man who came running at him with a knife before it was too late and he'd been stabbed and thrown out the window. After that, he didn't remember much.

Tonic had written it all down before disappearing again. When he left, Whiskey slumped down on the bed with a pained sigh. Without him asking, you gave him some painkillers.

“Thank you, angel,” he whispered.

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

A couple of weeks later you walked into Whiskey's hospital room only to stop dead in your tracks as soon as you crossed the threshold. The bed was empty. You looked around the room, even though there were no places in the room to hide.

Frowning, you hurried back outside and found Vermouth by one of the computers in the other room.

“Whiskey's room is empty!” you said a little too loudly and she jumped before realizing it was you.

“Yes,” she said, “He left two hours ago and...Boss, I know you know what you're doing but should he really be up and out of the hospital already?”

You blinked, confused by the sudden incompetence in your otherwise very skilled colleague.

“What? No, of course, he shouldn't! Why would you even let him leave?”

Now Vermouth looked equally confused.

“But he said you'd given him permission to go home for the day. Hell, he even had a signed note from you.”

The two of you looked at each other as the puzzle pieces began falling into place.

Fucking Whiskey!

“If I murder him,” you began, “Will you help me bury the body where Champ won't find it?”

Vermouth nodded, trying to keep a straight face and not smile.

“Of course, Boss. And if we can't find a good digging spot, might I suggest hiding him in one of the old liquor barrels?”

“Excellent idea! I'll call you when I find him.”

“Good luck!” Vermouth called after you as you left the office.

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

You banged hard on the door of the apartment before taking a step back and crossing your arms over your chest. It took almost two minutes before you heard the lock click open and you had just begun to entertain the thought of kicking the door in when Whiskey opened. He was still wearing the medical department's gray sweatpants, with one leg cut off to fit over the cast, but had somehow managed to wrangle himself out of the gray sweatshirt and into a white t-shirt with a red and gray plaid button-down shirt over. His Stetson was perched atop his head for the first time since he'd been injured. It was pushed back slightly to reveal more of his pale and tired face. There were circles under his eyes so dark they were almost purple and a slight stubble was unevenly sprinkled across his normally so clean-shaven jaw. He looked about two seconds away from toppling over.

“Moonshine...” he said a little hesitantly, probably noticing the expression on your face.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded to know.

“I live here,” Whiskey replied and you honest-to-god stomped your foot in frustration. Whiskey noticed and raised an eyebrow. A smile began to form on his lips but then he met your angry gaze and he instead adopted a more somber expression.

“Why are you not in your hospital room?” you continued, “Vermouth said you told her I gave you permission to go home. You even faked a note?”

“Darlin', relax. I feel fine. I don't need to...”

“Really? And what degree in medicine makes you qualified to make that judgment?” you snapped, “Because last time I, your doctor, checked you had just broken several bones, been stabbed even more times and the wound in your side is still held together mostly by sheer will-power. So I wouldn't say you're fine.”

Whiskey's jaw clenched slightly. He was annoyed with you, which was just as well because you were furious with him and his recklessness.

“I don't like being cooped up,” Whiskey shot back, crossing his own arms over his chest and only swaying a little as he let go of the support of the doorframe.

“And I don't like it when you're hurt!”

Whiskey's expression instantly softened.

“Moonshine...” he began.

“Don't Moonshine me right now! I didn't spend hours stitching you up just so you could go out and tear those stab wounds open again. It's a miracle that stab to your side didn't hit anything vital.“

Whiskey opened his mouth to speak but you interrupted him before he could get anything out.

“You almost died!...and I was really worried.”

Any trace of annoyance was long gone from Whiskey's face. Instead, there was a softness and almost sadness in his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized and you held your arms crossed in front of you.

“Yeah well...you should be,” you said, feeling a little calmer now that he'd admitted that you were right, “You're not well enough to be out yet.”

Whiskey pursed his lips and then he sighed.

“Alright, darlin'. Let me just turn off the TV and then I'm all yours.”

#whiskey/reader #whiskeyxreader #agent whiskey #kingsman golden circle fanfiction #kingsman golden circle #female reader #my fanfiction

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years

Text

ON THE EDGE ~ Pt. 4

Characters: Gavin Reed x fem!Reader; Connor; Hank Anderson;

Warnings: cursing

Words: 2668

Gavin was far away from being 'happy'. But he listened interested in what yn had to say in the briefing. He was impressed how much she had found out within … one day. She had a bunch of files, several papers and she also had prepared a report for each one of them with the important details. If Gavin had a good day, he could do just the half of it. If any.

"So, our guy is Joseph 'The Joker'.", she stopped as she saw Gavin trying to suppress the laughter behind his hand, "Come on, Gavin. Laugh. Or otherwise you will explode.", she said amused.

"That is the stupidest name on earth.", Gavin said chuckling.

Yn watched her partner who was looking so much better when he was grinning, "Yes, that's why I suggest we should call the whole case 'JoJo'.", just as she had said it, Gavin laughed out loud, crying with tears.

Gavin’s amusement was contagious and yn joined him while she pinched the bridge of his nose.

Even Hank started to rumble with laughter, "Yeah, we should take this name. It won't get any better, I guess. Where can we find this guy?"

"Maybe in a circus with clowns?", Gavin suggested still grinning.

Yn chuckled but shook her head to get back on track, "Actually, he deals in Liberty park.

Twenty minutes later, all four were sitting in the 'Liberty Park Café' for 'observation'. For normal people, it wasn't that easy to detect a dealer. But for three cops and an android, it shouldn't be that hard. At least, they could disguise their work with some coffee and snacks. Mostly, coffee.

The group took a table near a window to have the park in sight. It was snowing again and therefore, too cold to be outside for too long. Because they had no picture of Joseph, they had to rely on their observation skills.

"Could this be our guy?", Connor asked and pointed at a guy with long hair and a beard. He stood underneath a tree with his hands buried in the pockets of his long coat.

Yn took a grape of the fruit salad and threw it into her mouth before she looked at the guy. It was the third guy Connor had found suspicious, "Well…", yn started, considering the possibility but then, a woman appeared and walked straight to the guy. She hugged and kissed him before they wandered off with linked arms.

Gavin looked annoyed at Connor with crossed arms, "Wow, tin can, you're the best Investigator ever."

“It’s not that I could detect drugs from this distance.”, Connor defended himself.

“Then, I don’t see why you’re even here.”

“Because yn asked me-”

“You asked him?”, Gavin asked exasperatedly and looked at her with a dark expression.

She raised her hands in surrender, “He’s Hank’s partner so, of course, he’s on board. I’m sure he will play a good role in this case.”, she said and once again, she noticed Gavin’s mood. He was on the edge of the next outburst.

Luckily, Hank was this time the one who spotted the next suitable candidate for their suspect and stopped Gavin to say whatever he wanted next, “I guess, this could be our guy.”

The other three of the group looked at a guy in his twenties. He wore some pair of jeans with holes, a t-shirt of an old grunge rock band and a black, well-worn, leather jacket. His long, blonde, greasy looking hair was tied to a ponytail. He leant casually against a street lamp as if he was waiting for someone and at the same time as if he would have all the time in the world.

“It could be JoJo.”, yn said with a slow nod. His appearance coincided with the few details she had found in the statements. The hair, height and surprisingly, the t-shirt were the same.

“It could be just another guy waiting for a hooker.”, Gavin grunted. In his eyes, nothing of this was worth his time.

“Hey, JoJo!”, a guy on a bicycle called out and waved as he passed the grunge guy.

All three pairs of eyes were landing on Gavin who rolled with his eyes, “Oh, please! That can’t be true.”, he said and wiped over his face with his hand.

"So, that's our guy, then.", Connor said with a pleased smile. He was a big fan of having a clear suspect.

The group observed JoJo for a while. Hank ordered new coffee and as their cups were refilled, several people had passed JoJo. Some were just greeting him. Some had talked with him, maybe buying drugs, “Couldn’t we just arrest him?”, Connor asked.

“We could but if yn’s theory is right, he could lead us to his boss.”, Hank explained.

"He has a type.", yn said suddenly.

"A type? A type of what?", Connor asked confused. Somehow, he had the feeling that whenever he was learning one new thing there were two other things coming his way, like these human comments.

Yn looked at Connor with a grin, "A type of woman. He ignores the blondes. But he looks after the brunette."

"No!", Gavin called out and looked serious at yn. His brows were knitted together and yn saw his eyes sparkling darkly. There he was again: her all too protective partner… or at least, he tried to be that.

Her smirk grew bigger, "It's a good idea, I think."

Gavin gritted his teeth, "And I say, no!"

"What is going on?", Connor asked Hank low while he watched the exchange between yn and Gavin.

"I'm not really sure…", Hank answered.

Before Hank could speak out his assumption, Gavin was faster to explain, "She wants to meet him.", he said coldly.

"What?", Connor asked surprised and looked at yn.

"It's the best chance we have. I'll go over to him, flirt a bit and bug him. Then, we will get him and his boss. We will have a chance to get the whole circus. It won't take me more than ten minutes.", yn said smirking, leant back in her seat with crossed arms and watched Gavin almost exploding in front of her eyes.

"And my answer is no!", he called out, which caused the other guests to look at the small group.

Yn looked challenging at Gavin, "Good that I haven't asked you for permission."

"Then, I will go with you.", Gavin demanded, thinking of himself as smart.

Yn’s eyes grew big. She looked at her partner with a confused expression, "Are you nuts? How shall I flirt with him when you're around?", she said and gestured to him and his appearance.

Gavin saw something in her eyes, in the way she was looking at him. Not sure if he was right, if she was giving him a compliment in some way or not. Was it possible that she could see him in a certain way?

"I can go with her.", Connor offered and broke Gavin’s train of thought and the connection he had with yn.

"You?", Gavin asked spitefully and sizesing up the android.

"Yes... I could act as her servant android. Even now, there are still androids out there who are serving humans. It would be no big deal.", Connor explained.

Yn was already hooked, "Best idea!I told you he will play a role in this case. So, we have a plan. Tomorrow, we will bug this fucker."

“Gavin, no!”, yn called out. Again and again, Gavin wished he had listened to her instead of being hard headed to stop the crazy guy on his own. Once again, Gavin suffered through the events of the last case in his dream. And once again, he heard the shots from the guy. Then, he shot the guy on his own just to find yn lying on the ground bleeding. Gavin ran over to her, turned her around and tried to wake her up but she was already unconscious. He knelt next to her, pressing his hand on her bleeding wounds to stop the blood until the ambulance was coming. He even drove to the hospital to stay by her side.

Two long hours, he was waiting til the doctor came to him, telling Gavin that she was alright and would be okay. Gavin even waited til he could visit her in the room a few hours later. Slowly, and with shaking knees, Gavin went to her room, opened the door and slipped carefully in.

Gavin’s blood was running cold because of the scene in front of him. Next to yn’s bed sat Connor, holding her hand in his with intertwined fingers. Yn was already awake, looking at the android with a love filled glance. Connor looked from yn at Gavin and back at yn, “Look who’s there. Gavin came to see you.”, Connor said softly.

“Gavin? Who’s Gavin?”, she said without even looking up…

It was three o’clock in the morning and Gavin started up from the dream, from the nightmare, with a racing heart. Once again, he was soaked with sweat. He raked his fingers through his wet hair and without a second thought, he stood up to go into his bathroom. He splashed cold water into his face several times. As he looked up into the mirror, he saw a pale guy with dark shadows under his eyes. Gavin grabbed a bottle of shampoo and threw it violently into the shower, “This god damn, fucking android!”, he yelled out. Within a few days, Connor had been able to get closer to yn. Gavin feared this android would be even able to win her over. Maybe Gavin should gather all his courage to speak with her as long as there was time or otherwise, the android could snatch her from under his nose. But how should he do that without risking their friendship?

Yn rummaged through her bag with clothes. She already wore some leather boots, a tight fitting and low cut, black jeans and searched for the blood red tank top. She had made her hair and she even had put makeup on with too much mascara and eyeliner for the most dramatic look. Yn found the tank top and donned it over her head. As she pulled it down, a movement in the mirror caught her attention, "Voyeurism, huh? That's a crime.", she said, smirking.

Gavin closed slowly up to her with his hands stuffed into his front pockets of his jacket, "I know. We worked on some of these cases. Listen-", he said softly, collecting all his courage and searching for the right words.

"I know what you want to say and yes, I will be careful. Connor is by my side. You and Hank on the other side of the street by the café. Nothing will happen. This is easy. You don't have to worry this much.", yn said reassuringly while she donned her leather jacket over the top. The outfit would be a bit too cold for the weather but she wanted to flirt with the suspect and so, she had to show off some skin. She even pulled down the top some more so that her décolleté got more visible.

Gavin’s eyes fell on that view which caused his mind to go blank for a moment. All in all, she was very distracting, dressed up like this and he had difficulties to focus back on what he actually wanted, "Uhm… I… It's just... There's something I have to tell-", he tried insecurely, not sure if this was a good idea at all. If Gavin would go this way there was no going back and he knew that.

The door of the locker room opened once again and Hank took the decision away from Gavin, "Yn, Fowler wants to see you.", the Lieutenant said and left again.

"Coming!”, yn called out as a response and stowed away her bag and stuff before she turned back to Gavin, “Get ready. We will leave soon.", she said with a soft pat on his chest and a smile on her lips.

Gavin looked after her. He huffed out, annoyed about himself as the door opened once again. Yn’s head appeared in the door, "Oh, and, by the way, this shirt you wear? It looks very good. The color suits your eyes.", she said, winked at him and left again. Gavin smiled softly and felt his cheeks getting warmer. He was sure that she had no idea what she was doing to him but he enjoyed these small moments. They were all he got.

Then, it was showtime. Hank and Gavin stood across the walkway at a bar table with two cups of coffee to go as a disguise to be able to watch the scene. JoJo was already there, leaning at the same street lamp like the day before. Now and then, he greeted someone. Then, Gavin watched yn coming down the way, still in some distance. She said something to Connor that let the android chuckle. Connor looked down at yn with a huge smile and as she looked up at him, her smile was matching the android’s one. Pain shot through Gavin as he got reminded of his dream from the night before. It was a horrible nightmare with an end that never happened like this but his mind was determined to let him suffer even more. As if it wouldn’t be enough to get reminded of yn being shot all the time. No, now the android had to be in his dreams, as well.

“It’s good that Connor kept his LED ring.”

“W-what?”, Gavin asked. Hank had pulled him out of his thoughts and this time, Gavin was thankful for the old man to be there, even if he would never admit that loudly.

Hank nodded into the direction of Connor and yn, they almost had reached JoJo, “I mean without the LED ring, Connor would look more like her handsome boyfriend than her servant.”, Hank said amused.

Gavin observed the two and wasn’t happy what he saw. Connor was dressed completely in black and with his height he looked like a bodyguard. The way they interacted told that they seemed to be very close to each other. Gavin was looking forward to the end of this bullshit, his nerves were already blank but the case just had started. It would last a bit longer til everything would fall back to normal again without Connor and Hank being around them all the time.

Then, yn passed JoJo and as she had expected, the dealer was looking after her. Much to her delight, he even whistled after her as she swayed her hips a bit more provokingly. Yn stopped and turned around. JoJo was confident, very confident, he smirked at her and wasn’t impressed by Connor as he stepped a bit forward. Yn gave him a sign to stay where he was before she walked over to JoJo with a flirty smirk on her lips.

The longer she was talking to the dealer, the more Gavin became nervous. It got on his nerves to see JoJo coming closer to yn step by step. She was laughing about whatever he said. She leant forward to be closer to him whenever she could. And Connor just stood there, observing the scene, looking out for her - as planned.

Hank noticed that Gavin was annoyed by the scene. Since yn had began to talk with JoJo, Gavin had started to torture his empty cardboard cup. He was drumming on the lid and scratching on the material the longer the whole scene lasted.

As JoJo touched yn on her hip while he leant forward to whisper something into her ear, Gavin squashed the cardboard cup completely with his knuckles turning white.

"You know, Reed, that's the reason why you couldn't do Connor's job.", Hank said and pointed at Gavin's hand.

"Shut the fuck up.", Gavin muttered angrily and just relaxed as yn and Connor left the scene finally.

#dbh #dbh connor #gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #dbh gavin reed #dbh gavin #detroit become human #detroit become human gavin #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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proselys · 3 years

Note

And if you’re still taking prompts, how about Emily dealing with Tsia and/or Clyde getting injured?

(We're going to ignore now long this is, I got carried away).

There was shouting.

A loud bang.

Then a crackling silence filled her ears.

Emily felt her heart stop as she stood there frozen, trying to listen to any life coming out of her earpiece. The static noise was deafening in her ears and her panic skyrocketed instantly. She couldn't breathe, not with the sudden terror squeezing the life out of her.

Lifting a hand up slowly she reached for the earpiece, pressing it to speak into the comms.

''Clyde? Tsia?''

She was met with silence. Silence except that fucking crackling noise which was starting to invade her senses.

''Tsia? Clyde? Come in...'' Emily hated how her voice wavered as she spoke, trying to swallow the emotions which were threatening to erupt from her.

Again. Nothing.

It was at this moment which Emily feared the worst. How could she not when she couldn't get in contact with them? She had heard other voices, ones that shouldn't have been in the warehouse. She had heard the all too familiar sound of gunfire. What if they hadn't reacted quick enough? What if they had been outnumbered? What is they were...

''S-Sean. Sean I can't reach them.'' Emily knew her terror was evident and she hated how weak she was sounding to him, but when it came to Tsia and Clyde...well, losing them was the worst thing Emily could think of. They were her family, her support, her best friends, her older brother and the love of her life. She couldn't do this without them.

Her spiraling thoughts were interrupted by Sean's voice coming through the static.

''Em? Emily.''

''Sorry...''

''I said stand down, Em.'' Sean's voice held authority though it was soft, as if any other tone would merely break her in two.

''What?'' Emily suddenly snapped back into action, straightening up and shaking her head even though he couldn't see her. ''No, no I can do it. You need me to stay here, I-''

''Emily, stand down and that's an order. Come and meet me at my location straight away.''

She knew she couldn't defy an order like that, and she had to admit, what use would she be right now when all that was swimming in her mind were the images of their dead bodies.

''Sean...''

''We'll get to them, I promise.''

Though he couldn't promise if they were okay.

Emily wasn't sure how quickly she had got to Sean or when Jeremy had joined them. She had no recollection of the journey they had taken, speeding towards the warehouse with sirens and lights blaring, nor did she remember anything about storming the building with the local SWAT team to find them.

Everything was a blurr and she couldn't breathe, the whole time black spots dancing around the edge of her vision. She had to awareness of anyone around her, only that they found Clyde and Tsia.

Emily wished however that she wasn't the one who had found them.

The first thing she saw was Tsia unconscious on the floor, Clyde over her as he tried to press the wound in her side to stop it from bleeding. However, the angle he was at clearly displayed the wound in his leg. With a loud call for backup, Emily's gun was away and her hands taking off her belt as she knelt down beside them.

''Keep pressure on it Clyde, I've got you.'' Emily glanced up at him and saw how pale he was, focusing all his energy on his one task. With her belt, Emily wrapped it around his leg and tied it tightly, causing Clyde to hiss in discomfort.

''You're okay, you're okay.'' She tried to ignore his blood on her hands.

''Em. I'm tired.'' Clyde groaned as he swayed backwards, letting go of the pressure on Tsia's side and collapsing completely to the floor.

Emily was there instantly, her jacket off and pressed against the wound to try and slow the bleeding. It was semi dark and it was hard to see if Tsia was still breathing.

''Clyde, stay awake for me alright? Don't go to sleep.'' Emily glanced over at him, seeing his body trembling as he tried his hardest to keep his eyes open.

She called for the others once more.

Emily couldn't do this on her own. She couldn't have both their blood on her hands as she watched them die.

Help came far too late in her opinion and as she was pushed back by the paramedics, all she could do was stand there and watch as they tried to stabalise them both.

It was Jeremy who wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her out after the ambulances, who didn't let go of her as Sean drove them to the hospital. No one spoke, or if they did she hadn't noticed. Emily had zoned out the entire journey, only realising where they were when the bright lights of the hospital seemed to take over her senses.

It was too bright. Too loud. Everything was too much and she couldn't breathe.

She couldn't breathe.

Jeremy had managed to guide her to a chair as the panic attack took hold of her, crouching in front of her and holding her hands so the blood of their friends was shared between them.

Emily truly didn't know how long it took for her to calm down, though the feeling of internal hysteria seemed ever lasting. They couldn't die. They couldn't.

If they died a piece of her would go with them.

It seemed like forever before the surgeon came out to tell them that they'd successfully removed the bullet from Clyde's leg and his head injury hadn't seemed to have done any serious damage thus far. Emily couldn't breathe a sigh of relief, not until she saw him.

Jeremy had brought her some wipes to wipe away the blood on her hands for her, though spots still remained. Another surgeon came out to tell them that by some miracle their surgery on Tsia had also been successful, though she was still under the anesthetic. Emily could have started crying if she didn't feel numb.

Jeremy took Emily's hand and led her to Clyde's room once the doctor said he would start waking up. She hadn't wanted to see him unconscious. They all went in together, though Emily stayed near the door as if it was her way to escape if things got too much.

The three men conversed, though Emily stayed silent. If they spoke about her she didn't even notice. It was only as Sean put a hand on her shoulder and told her to go and see Clyde, did she step further into the room and towards the bed. As she heard the door shut behind her, she picked at the skin around her fingernails, edging closer but stopping at the foot of the bed.

''I'm not going to break darling, come here.'' Clyde's voice was rough, holding out a hand to her though unable to hide his wince as he did. When Emily didn't move, he sighed, though never put his hand down.

''Emily, please.''

She moved closer, taking his hand with her own shaking on and let him pull her gently to sit on the edge of the bed.

''See, I'm alright darling. Soon I'll be good as new.'' He tried to give her the best smile he could without it turning into a grimace, his thumb circling her knuckles comfortingly.

''You nearly died.'' Those were the first words Emily had spoken since the warehouse, her tone hearing through his heart and her eyes started to fill with tears as she finally looked at him.

Sighing, Clyde pulled her down close to him and wrapped his arms around her. Both Sean and Jeremy had mentioned how she'd been, but it clearly ran a lot deeper than that they'd told him. Emily was scared and he'd never seen her like this before.

''I know Em, but I'm right here. I'm okay. You didn't lose me, I promise.''

At his words the dam broke and she started to cry against him. Her panic had been without tears but now nothing was holding them back.

''You saved us, you know? You saved both of us. I will be forever grateful to you for that, and so will Tsia.'' Though at the mention of her girlfriend, Emily started to cry harder.

''Emily, darling, listen to me. Tsia's going to okay. She's going to wake up soon and she's going to mend.'' Though he couldn't help but feel his own guilt seep through at the thought of having nearly lost her as well. He knew exactly how Emily was feeling, though, he thought again, perhaps not exactly. He hadn't nearly just lost his girlfriend.

''You trust me don't you?'' He asked as he stroked a hand through her hair, an action he had seen Tsia do plenty of times to calm Emily down.

He felt a meek nod against his chest.

''Then trust me when I say this. She's going to be okay. You're going to see her wake up and smile and she's going to walk out of here, just like I am...except I might take a little longer to walk but we'll figure that out.''

As Emily pulled away to look at him, she felt his thumb wipe away her tears. She felt bad for the fact that he was comforting her right now and not the other way around. Emily hated how emotional she was and how she'd let everyone down with how she was feeling, but the thought of being without them was terrifying.

''I...'' The words failed in her throat as she looked down away from him. They weren't the sort of people to say it to one another, even if he was her best friend. But she felt Clyde's hand take hers once more and give it a reassuring squeeze.

''I know darling. As do I.''

It was perhaps more nerve wrecking to go and see Tsia than it had been to go and see Clyde. Her girlfriend was still asleep and Emily hated the way she looked so small hooked up to machines. She took the seat next to her and let their fingers entwine, feeling once more tears blur her vision.

''I...I'm scared Tee. I've never been this scared before. All I could think about when I heard the shots was your body on the floor, and then you were on the floor and I couldn't tell if you were breathing or not...'' Emily's breathe got caught in her throat.

''I keep seeing yours and Clyde's blood on my hands still. I couldn't tell the others that. I couldn't tell him I was scared. I couldn't tell him that if either of you died then a piece of me would die with you. I couldn't...'' Her voice broke as a tear slipped down her cheek.

''I love you Tsia. I love you and I don't say it enough. What if I hadn't had the chance to say it again? What if you died without knowing how much I love you?''

There was silence apart from the monitors in the background and Emily's quiet sniffles.

''That's never going to happen Emily Prentiss.'' Tsia murmured, eyes still closed. ''You show me you love me every day. I would be impossible for me to not know.''

Opening her eyes, she blinked over at her girlfriend, heart shattering at how lost she looked. She had to stay alive for Emily to never look like that again.

''Come here Emmy.''

''But...I don't want to hurt you.'' Emily panicked.

''You wont sweetheart, I promise. I just want you close.''

Emily could never deny her anything and so slowly she got up from the chair and made her way around the bed to Tsia's non-injured side and took off her shoes before curled up next to her. She wrapped her arm gently around her and felt Tsia do the same.

Emily closed her eyes and simply held her, never wanting to let go for fear she would disappear completely.

''Em?''

''Yes Tee?''

''I love you too, sweetheart.''

And Emily knew that they would be okay in the end.

#romeys writing #emily prentiss #tsia mosely #clyde easter #prosely #cw blood #tw injuries #this is so long whoops #but it hurts so much

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destinys-lies · 3 years

Text

Evermore by destiny’s lies

Disclaimer: Boku no hero academia and its characters do not belong to me, but Kōhei Horikoshi. Any images used are credited to their original owner(s). ———————————————– Prompt: Bonus Day 2: Shattered—Evanescent ———————————————– Author’s Note: Just an Izuocha drabble to help improve my writing skills. I chose to do evanescent for the prompt. This story is a continuation of this story. I did something slightly different for the synopsis, so that’s something. Also I may or may not have made references to other Izuocha fanfics I’ve read like “Distraction” by the amazingly wonderful WingSongHalo and “Green Gentlemen” by the fantastically talented SevenRenny! ^w^ Anyways, I hope you enjoy this story! It was fun participating in this event! Now I shall pass out. Have a wonderful day/night everyone!

Update: I forgot that the @ is how to tag people and I realized both writers have Tumblr sooo I’m going to do that now! @sevenrenny and @wingsonghalo

———————————————– Synopsis: “I’ll love you evermore.” ———————————————–

Izuku approached the wooden door. He silently gazed at the sign hanging beside it. The sign read, “127.” Three little digits indicated that he was at the right door. He grabbed the doorknob but didn’t turn it.

Part of him wanted to run away but the other part reminded him why he was here. It was no time to chicken out. Taking a small breath, he mustered up the courage to turn the doorknob and walk inside.

The room was painted a pale green as the dull, fluorescent lights lit up the dreary room. On the side of a wall, Izuku spotted curtains that covered the large windows. He walked over to them and pushed them aside, letting the natural sunlight in. A slight smile appeared on his face but it didn’t linger.

He turned to look at the hospital bed.

An unconscious, brown-haired woman laid on it, her body still and hooked up to tubes filled with warm blood. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room and pulled it alongside the bed before sitting down. He sighed as he placed the bouquet of pink flowers in the vase beside her.

He peered down at her angelic face, giving a soft smile. She was always beautiful, whether she was awake or asleep. His smile fell once again. He desperately wanted her to wake up. So he could tightly embrace her in his arms and twirl her around.

He groaned, burying his face into his hands.

“We need to make a risky decision here,” her words echoed around in his mind.

“Dammit, Ochako. I just got you back.” He lifted his head out of his hands and gently wrapped a hand around her fingers, raising them to lips before giving them a small peck. “And now I have to worry about losing you all over again.”

His eyes wandered to the pile of flowers sitting next to her.

They were rosemaries.

He hoped that when she woke up, they would be the first things she saw. Maybe it’d help her and make things alright. He yearned for her yet she was right next to him. All those months they spent apart and here they were together again but still divided.

Oh God, how could that trip have gone so wrong?

If he had never traveled to the North Pole, she wouldn’t have had to look for him. She wouldn't be here. They could’ve been at home, making more memories. She was here because of him.

It was his fault. He shouldn’t have left her. A whole year of potential memories escaped them and it was all because of his stupid dream to travel to the North Pole. A gentle squeeze broke him out of his thoughts. He felt a hand comfortingly squeeze his hand. His eyes peered down at his wife.

Her chocolatey, warm eyes sluggishly watched him. “You’re doing it again.”

“Huh?”

“You’re blaming yourself.”

“I mean, if I hadn’t—”

“It’s not your fault, Izuku,” she interrupted, her eyebrows furrowing. “It was my decision to come after you alone in the cold, not yours.”

“You wouldn’t have had to try to find me if I hadn’t gotten lost.”

“Maybe, but think about it, the day I found you is a new memory we have.”

“A sad one,” he remorsefully replied.

“But a memory we have together, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just I wish I never got lost.”

“I know, but remember it’s not your fault, okay? The North Pole is not an easy place to navigate. Heck! That’s one of the reasons why it took me so long to find you...” she trailed off, glancing at the pink flowers. A small smile graced her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course, I wanted to try and bring some color to this room. How are you feeling?”

“Tired…but I’m happy you’re here.” Her eyes scanned across the room before falling on a telephone hanging on the wall across from her. “Hey, remember that time you showed me the first voicemail I left on your phone?”

“Yeah” Izuku shyly blushed, suddenly feeling like he was a teenager again. “You can’t blame me for it though, it’s not my fault that you have an attractive voice. Ochako choked on air, bursting into a small coughing fit. “I guess we’re even again.” He smiled.

“For what?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

“The time you made me choke on the hot chocolate and spray it everywhere.”

“Oh really?” Amusement sparkled in those cheeky eyes of hers. “I don’t seem to remember that.” She stuck out tongue at him, making him laugh.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, unconvinced by her answer.

“I couldn’t help it!” she chuckled. “I just saw the opportunity and took it.”

He rolled his eyes and put his elbow on the side of her bed, resting his head in his hand. “Remember the time when we went to summer camp together?”

“Oh yeah! That was such a long time ago.”

“Yeah…” he affirmed. He peeked back at her, small bits of anguish flickering in his eyes. “Do you remember the time we went canoeing?”

“Izuku…” She sighed in an effort to steel herself. “You know I wouldn’t ever forget about you.”

“The doctor said-”

“Fuck the doctor!” Ochako brazenly exclaimed, her colorful language catching him off guard. “You’re too hard to forget, Izuku. And even if I did forget...I wouldn’t have stopped till I remembered.”

Tears rapidly poured from his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. The Ochako I know is too stubborn to quit.”

“Exactly!” She broadly smiled at him. “I’m so happy that we’re back together.”

“And soon we’ll both be back at home, making new memories.”

“I’ll love you evermore.”

“Until death do us part.”

Everything would be alright again.

#izuocha #izuocha h/c week #izuocha hurt/comfort week #bonus day two #shattered #evanescent #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfiction #izuku x ochako #dekuocha

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totallysharkycomplete · 3 years

Text

Waiting For You Part Two (Ford Pines x Reader) Idea of It

She can’t seem to keep her eyes dry as she says goodbye to her friends as she awaits to board her bus for Roswell. Fids receives a big hug and a kiss on his cheek, which turns him red. Ford receives the longest hug ever and many kisses until the bus does a last call. Teary eyed she gets on the bus going to the window to wave goodbye, and wave until her friend’s are out of sight.

Ford sighs, a heavy weight in his chest. “A whole year,” he says to no one in particular.

“Better make the most of it.” Fids says.

And Ford does. Before he is even settled into Gravity Falls anomalies begin jumping out at him left and right. His expectations are not only met but exceeded by everything he manages to find or run into.

She and Ford had agreed to write and call as often as possible, however they were both swept into their research and a month passed. Ford is disturbed by his research when there is a knock on his door. He finds a mail carrier on his porch.

“Letter for Ford Pine?” They ask.

“Yes, that’s me.” He informs them and they pass over the letter.

Ford looks at the envelope, on the front is written:

FORD PINES RANDOM CABIN IN MIDDLE OF WOODS? GRAVITY FALLS, OREGON

The return address is from his girlfriend in Roswell, New Mexico. Ford eagle receded back into the house and tore open the letter, but took care to not tear the little ufo drawing she had scribbled onto the back. Inside the message reads:

Stanford! <3 <3 <3

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write but I assume we are both extremely busy with research. Also, I never received your address or phone number.

Most days spent here are almost like an archeology dig, we’ve found nothing alive but many fossils and bones. Drop me a line or write as soon as you can. I love and miss you so much!

The bottom was signed with her name and a little kiss mark. He immediately felt guilty for not contacting her sooner. The cabin didn’t even have a phone line hooked up to it yet.

Ford sat down right away to write a reply. He filled his letter with drawings and talked all about the amazing things he had seen, as well as apologize for the long radio silence. When he was done he went and mailed his letter, receiving many strange looks while in town. He also went and got signed up to have someone come and install a phone line.

She received her letter a few days later. As she read all about the wonderful things Ford was doing, she couldn't help but feel envious, and a little sad. While her boyfriend was galavanting around the woods talking to mythical creatures, she was stuck in a hot desert digging up fossils. Fossils were cool and all and she knows they are an important part of discovering the past, but she wanted real living and breathing creatures.

The letter continued back and forth until Ford got connected to a phone line. It had taken a while and snow had just begun to fall. He called her as soon as it was. Anxiously he waits while the phone rings.

“Hello?” A voice answers from the other side.

“Hello? Yes, this is Stanford Pines I’m trying to get ahold of-,” he's cut off by the person on the other end.

“Ford!” She squeals. “You got a phone line!”

He can’t help but to chuckle. “I did, I’m sorry it took so long.” He sighs, his heart feeling content at the sound of her voice. “I hadn’t realised how much I had missed your voice.”

She giggles. “I’ve missed your voice too. So tell me, is Gravity Falls everything you’d hoped it would be?”

“All that and more.” He tells her.

They talked for over an hour before she had to get off the phone.

“We have a meeting during dinner.” She pouts. “But I’ll call you soon.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He smiles, but stops when he hears her sniffle. He calls her name in question. “Everything okay?”

She sniffs again. “I’m fine. I just really miss you.” Her voice is small and quiet. “This isn’t really turning out to be what I wanted, and I’m a little jealous of you.” She confessed.

Ford sighs, his heart breaks at fact his love isn’t happy. “Just six more months and you’ll be here with me. You just have to hold out a little bit longer.”

She sighs. “I know, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

To their surprise, she joined Ford sooner than either of them thought she would. That night at her diner meeting the lead researcher wasn’t there. Instead they were informed that he had been arrested due to fraudulent charges. The research he had used to get his grant was stolen and fake. The research program was ending and everyone needed to be out by the end of the week.

As soon as she was back in her dorm she tried to call Ford, the phone rang, and rang, and rang. He must not have an answering machine yet, she thinks.

She wished he would pick up because she was going through so many emotions at once. Happy to be seeing Ford, disappointed all the work she had done was for nothing. Worried Ford wouldn’t be excited to see her early, anxious he wouldn’t want her there yet.

Ford of course wanted her there now. To occupy himself he trudged through the snow trying to find some kind of snow beast he had heard about. He was elated when he found it, but unfortunately it wasn’t as excited to see him as he was excited to see it.

Ford was scribbling down notes in his journal when he took a step forward to try and get a better look. He stepped on a twig and it snapped. The beast turned around and came barreling towards him.

Ford tried to run, but the breast was much larger and faster. It reached up to him and swatted at him with one mighty arm. Ford flew across the forest and slammed into a tree, hitting his head and arm pretty bad. He slumped onto the ground vision blurred, a small stream of blood coming from a cut above his eyebrow.

The beast began walking towards him when a small whining sound, almost like the cry of a baby black bear stopped it. The last thing Ford saw before he passed out was the beast walking away to its baby. ---------- When Ford awoke he was surrounded by bright lights. His vision sorted itself out to see he was in a hospital bed, his arm in a sling and he could feel he had a bandage wrapped around his head. His free hand was being held by a much smaller hand.

Looking down, Ford saw her. She was sitting cross legged in a chair that was pulled up right next to the bed. Her arm was used as a makeshift pillow under her sleeping head on the bed, her soft warm hand held his.

His smile grew even though he was unsure as to how and why she was here. He brought his girlfriend's hand upto his mouth and gave it a small kiss. The gesture caused her to stir.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “Ford?” She mewled. Her smile grew ear to ear before turning into a scowl. “Stanford Filbrick Pines.”

His smile fell as well and his face turned to shock.

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” She begins. “I called you and called you and got no reply, then I showed up here to find you in the hospital! And the nurses tell me you sat unconscious in the snow for hours? What were you thinking?” Her lip quivered.

Ford thought of a bunch of excuses before deciding what to say. “I’m sorry,” he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I had no idea the beast would see me, I’m sorry I caused you to worry.” He kisses her hand again. “But I’m so happy you are here.”

She quickly wipes away a tear, trying to still look mad but not doing a very good job at it. She stands quickly and leans over the bed to hug him. “I missed you so much.” She pulls back and he examines her face with a quizzical brow.

“But, why are you here?” He inquires.

She goes on to explain the situation. Then she explains how when she found the cabin empty she began to ask around, someone said one of the local lumberjacks had found “the scientist from the cabin in the woods” unconscious and bleeding in the middle of the forest, which led her to the hospital.

“You’ve been unconscious for almost two weeks.” She explains. “You’re mother is calling me everyday worried sick.

“You told my mother?” Ford looked mortified.

“Of course I did, Ford.” She gave him a soft smile. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Before Ford could voice his thoughts against worrying his mother, a nurse came in. “Mrs.Pines, pardon me but,” the nurse froze. “Mr.Pines, you’re awake! Let me go get the doctor.” They scurried out of the room.

Ford looks at his girlfriend to see her face bright red. “Mrs.Pines, huh?” He smirks.

“They were only letting family in to see you.” She looks away embarrassed. “And I thought it’s be weird to lie and say I was your sister. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He assures her. “I actually like the sound of that. Mrs.Pines.”

She makes a choked out noise, stumbling over her words before the doctor walks in, interrupting the conversation.

After taking his vital signs and making sure he had no memory loss, the doctor okayed for him to leave the hospital the next day, as long as his wife promised to keep him on bedrest the next five days.

Ford and her spent the next few hours talking. They ate dinner. They also called Ford’s mom who talked on and on about how relieved she was that he was okay, and about how happy she was he found a nice girl like her, and how he should stop “dragging his feet before someone else proposes to her.”

She yawned and laid her head on the bed.

“You don’t have to stay up for me. The armchair lays back if you'd like to sleep.” He smiles.

She murmurs something back, muffled by the sheets. He asks her to repeat herself. “I said,” she sits up red in the face, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t want to be that far from you.”

He chuckles and scoots as far to one side of the bed as he can. “Well then?”

She slowly makes her way onto the bed, avoiding all the wires he’s hooked up to, and his injured arm. Her head lays against his shoulder and she falls fast asleep, Ford not far behind her.

The next day Ford was discharged and instructed to keep on bedrest the next five days. They had taken a cab from the hospital back to the cabin.

Once inside Ford gave her a formal tour, since before she had only looked around for him before asking around town and finding him in the hospital.

“Ford this is all amazing, but you need to get to your bed now.” She begins ushering him towards his bedroom.

He frowns. “You’re not serious are you? I thought you just told the doctor that to get me out of there. We have too much work to do, I’m perfectly fine.” He stops his bickering when she lightly pushes his arm, he winces and pulls away.

“Doctors orders.” She sits him down on the bed. “If you don’t heal all the way and get hurt again it'll just take up more time.”

He sighed knowing she was right. She’s still standing so he places his hands on her hips and pulls her to him. He wraps his arms around her waist and hugs her. She reciprocates by wrapping her arms around his head. They stay there for a moment in time.

The wind begins to pick up and the window rattles. A shiver runs down Ford’s spine. She pulls back and plants a kiss to the top of his head. “Stay here and I’ll make us some lunch.”

Begrudgingly he lets go of her. She returns half an hour later to find him going over his notes by his bed. They share lunch and set the dishes aside. She snuggles close to his side one the bed as he takes out his journal marked one.

“Is there more than one?” She asks.

“Not currently, but who knows how much I could write about here. I can’t wait to show you.” He opens to the first page telling her exactly how he found each anomaly and his encounter with it. After flipping through a few pages he comes to a page and gets really excited. “This, I have a sample of in the lab! Let me get it and show you.” He begins to rise from the bed before her hand grabs his and pulls him back down.

“I don’t think so.” She teases.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that far I’d be fine. Plus what am I supposed to do in bed for five days?”

The way she smiles is very mischievous. “You could read over your notes, or read some books, or…” She takes this opportunity to straddle his lap and place her forehead on his. “I'm sure we could find something else to do.”

His hand comes up to cup her cheek and he sighs. “God, I’ve missed you.” He tilts his chin up to begin kissing her. The kisses start off lazy but grow more passionate. She feels him start to grow hard under him and she grinds into his lap, causing him to moan into the kiss.

He tries to flip her around onto the bed but winces when he pulls his injured arm wrong. She stops him by putting her hand on his shoulders. “Let me,” she begins to move down, and starts undoing his pants.

“You don’t have to, ah,” he moans out as she frees his erection.

“I know, but I want to.” She plants a kiss on the top of the pink head before licking up it.

Even though they had been together many times during college, she had never done this to him before.

Ford leaned his head back, looking down at her with eyes half lidded. His hand came to lightly hold her hair, not pulling her hair or pushing her down. He can’t help when a moan escapes his lips as she takes him all the way into her throat with a slight gag. She continues for a few more minutes, enjoying the sound she's getting him to make, before pulling away.

She stands and rids herself quickly of her clothes before crawling back over to him and straddling his lap.

“You don’t want me to return the favor?” He smirks against her lip.

She hums in thought. “We have plenty of time for you to do that.” Her hand reaches down to his member and begins to line herself up, before slowly sliding down onto him.

They both let out a groan of pleasure at the same time before giggling.

The next few days are spent in bed, cuddling, fooling around, and reading Ford’s journal.

As soon as the sixth day they were home came, Ford was up out of bed at the crack of dawn, pulling her up with him. “I have so much I want to show you.”

The next few days were filled with exploring and notes taking. Ford showed her all his favorite things he had discovered. The days turned to weeks, the weeks to months.

Before they knew it they had been together in Gravity Falls for almost five years, living in domestic bliss. She had gotten to live out her dream of experiencing the unusual almost everyday, happy to be by Ford’s side.

One day while she was sick Ford went into town to get some supplies to make soup. He walked past a jewelry store he did everytime he was in town but this time something caught his eye.

A ring with a small circular plate, with small blue emeralds around the middle. He laughed, it reminded him so much of a ufo. He went inside to inquire about it.

“That old thing? Nobody ever wants to buy it. I’ll give it to you for fifty bucks.” The store owner said.

Ford bit the side of his cheek in contemplation before agreeing on the price. He tucked the ring box into a safe pocket for a later day. ---------- She paced back and forth in the kitchen. Ford walked in and watched her in confusion before making his presence known.

“Darling, what seems to be the matter?” Ford’s voice causes her to jump and stop her pacing.

“Well I, uh,” she looks at her hand and moves them in a nervous gesture.

Ford makes his way to her and takes her hands in his much larger ones. “You can tell me. Whatever it is.” He assures her.

She sighs. “Well I, um, don’t know for sure, but…” She thinks about her words carefully. “I know we’ve never talked about this but,” she stops and thinks again. She continues at almost a whisper. “Ford, I might be pregnant.”

There’s a beat of silence before Ford picks her up and spins her around, bringing her in for a kiss. “That’s magnificent!” He beams.

She lets out a sigh of relief, resting her head against his chest. “That’s a relief, I didn’t know how you’d react, we’ve never talked about kids before. But like I said, I don’t know for sure.”

“I’d love to start a family with you.” He kisses the top of his head. “We’ll wait and see what happens.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me hear you say that.” She smiles.

A few weeks later she finds out she wasn’t actually pregnant. However, this led to her and Ford sitting down to discuss the possibility of having children in the future, which they both loved the idea of, when they were less occupied with work. ---------- She had noticed Ford acting strange recently. He was becoming more distant, spending time alone to meditate, which he had never done before. She knew the stress of this project was heavy. Building a portal to other dimensions wouldn’t be easy of course, but she had no idea it would stress him out so bad.

She sighed loudly, wrapping her hands around a warm cup of tea at the kitchen table.

“What’s bothering you, darling?” Fiddleford made his way into the room and sat down across from her. He had been living with her and Ford since helping with this project.

“Ford,” she confesses. “He just hasn’t been himself recently. I guess maybe it’s just the stress of all this.”

Fids nods in understanding. “I’ve noticed it too. He’s definitely not the same man I knew in college, but that was almost six years ago.”

She shakes her head in disagreement. “I mean, he’s matured as a person, we both have, but,” her brows furrow in thought. “This change is recent. I just feel like there’s something he’s not telling me.”

The conversation was interrupted by Ford barreling into the room with a large smile on his face. “There you are!” He walks over to her and plants a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ve got something amazing to show you.”

She stands up and so does Fiddleford. Ford makes eye contact with him and shakes his head no, and points to his own ring finger, signaling to his friend what he had planned. She doesn’t see the interaction and is left confused when Fids excuses himself, making an excuse why he can’t come.

“It’s a little bit of a walk,” Ford explains as they make their way out the door. “But it will be worth it, promise.” He takes her hand in his and she gives him a weak smile. “Is everything alright?”

“Ford, I feel like you’re hiding something from me.” She confesses as they continue to walk.

Ford's face heats up. “I have.”

The emotion on her face is somewhere between confusion and hurt and her eyes search his face for an answer.

“I’ll explain, I promise.” He kisses the back of her hand.

Not much more is said on the long walk. The sun is beginning to set.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this walk with you, Fordise, but are we almost here?” She asks.

“Just a few more minutes.”

And he was right. A few minutes later they arrived on a hill that overlooks Gravity Falls. She sees there’s a small blanket set up with a basket. The sun had fallen just below the horizon. Her heart felt overjoyed yet anxious with what Ford had to say.

They sit together and look out over the town. He pulls her close to his side and begins to explain himself. He explains about Bill and how he’d been helping him, and how he had summoned him. She sits in silence and listens, her face unreadable to Ford. When he finishes he watches her for a reaction.

“Ford,” she says quietly before scowling. “That’s so incredibly stupid and risky!” She pushes his shoulder and not in a playful way before crossing her arms in front of herself. “And you didn’t stop to ask my opinion or tell me until now?” She's looking away but he can see the tears in her eyes.

“I know it was wrong of me to not be honest with you and I apologize.” He tried to take her hand but she pulled away.

“Did you even stop to think about what would happen if he wasn’t good? Ford, what if he had taken over your mind and I lost you? Did you think about how that would affect me, Ford? I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” She wipes away a single tear.

“I was selfish. I didn’t take into account your feelings and I won’t be so foolish again.” This time she lets him take her hand. “I feel the same way about you. I couldn’t live without you. Can you ever forgive me?”

She looks at him with a pout on her face and lets out a heavy sigh. “I can’t stay mad at you for being sure a nerd.”

He chuckles. “You’re a nerd too.” He reminds her.

“I just forgave you and now you insult me?” Now she laughs.

He apologizes again before pulling the picnic basket over and pulling out a few items for them to enjoy.

When they were almost done eating Ford cleared his throat. “So I know you’re opposed to the idea of Bill, but he helped me unveil one of Gravity Falls biggest mysteries.”

Her eyes lit up at the idea. “Which one?”

He points out the horizon as the last bit of light begins to fade from the sky. “The most unnatural cliff formation. Doesn’t it look familiar to you?”

She examines it for a minute. “No way.” She takes another second to look at it, eyes growing wide. “Shut up!” She exclaimed and stood up in disbelief. “Is it really? A U.F.O., Ford?” Her eyes fixed on the cliffs not looking away.

Ford chuckles. “It is.”

“How, when, where?” She breathed out.

“I’m not sure about when and how, but where, you’re standing on it.” He smiles at her, her eyes locked on the cliff.

She whips her head around at him in disbelief but freezes when she sees him. He’s down on one knee, elbow on his knee with hand extended. He held a small black box in his hand. She brings her hand to her face and covers her mouth.

“I meant what I said earlier. I can’t live without you,” he gives a nervous chuckle. “I practiced what I was going to say a thousand time but can’t remember it now. But I love you and if you’d like, I’d love to always have you by my side.”

“Ford, I…” She breathes out.

“Please say yes,” he jokes. “Or I’ll look like a big idiot.”

She laughs before nodding yes. He takes the ring and places it on her finger, before she tackles him to the ground in a hug. They both laugh as she sits up to give him a loving kiss.

“Do you want to go inside and explore?” He smiles against her lips.

“More than anything.” --------- A few months later the gateway is almost complete when the accident happens. She is at the control panels when Fiddleford is accidentally pulled through the portal with the test dummy, before Ford pulls him back out.

She runs to their side just as Fids begins to speak in tongues. He gets up and begins to argue with Ford, announcing he’s done with the project before storming out.

She looks at Ford in disbelief.

Ford sighed. “We might need some outside help.” ---------- Ford had asked you to wait near the portal while he talked to his brother. She sat in the corner at a small desk while Ford explained everything to his brother. She was taken aback when Ford told his brother to take the journal and never come back. They began fighting and she yelled for them to stop, but her words fell on deaf ears, and the portal was accidentally switched on. All she could do was watch in horror as Ford’s brother pushed him, and he fell through.

She ran up to the portal right as it powered down and Ford’s brother began to yell.

She fell to her knees and stared at the portal in disbelief. “Ford, oh god.” She sobbed.

The twin looked over at her with a frown, he had noticed she was there from the start but didn’t ask who she was. “Can we, can we get him back?” He asks.

She looks up at him teary eyed. “Not without the other journals. He wouldn’t tell me where he hid them. He didn’t want me in danger, he,” she stops and swallows back tears, unwilling to cry anymore in front of this stranger.

“What’re you his wife or something?” He stupidly asks.

“I,” she looks up at the portal, “I was going to be.”

#ford pines x reader #part two #part 2 #standford pines x reader #up to part 5 is posted on my ao3 #gravity falls x reader #love to see reblogs xoxo

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olivinesea · 3 years

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Space Is Only Noise If You Can See, pt. 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

a/n: Alright angels, here it is. I’m giving you options. When you get to the end of this post there’s two links, read whichever one you fancy, or read both. A demented choose your own adventure. Thanks for joining me on this ride, I’ll try to be nicer with whatever’s next. TW major character death, guns, violence, stabs, blood, car crashes…also, I do not totally understand how the drugs work either, I’m just going with how they used them on the show which I imagine was likely a bit of fantasy created by the writers anyway. <2k

“Reality is merely a delusion, albeit a very persistent one.” Albert Einstein

Everything was chaos. The horizon tilted at an obscene slant and the night air had been replaced by acrid smoke. Hotch’s eyes stung as he struggled to turn his head, to check if Dave was okay. All he could make out was a dark shape, joints that might be elbows bent unnaturally. Between the seats he saw a flashing light. A phone, the source, he realized of the loud noises that had now resolved into cries. He had thought the voice was in his mind but no, someone is on the other end of the line, someone who might be able to help them. Limbs clumsy, he grasped at it, trying not to notice the spray of blood all around the car. He managed to get the phone, stared at the cracked screen, trying, always trying, to remember what was happening.

“H-h-hello?”

“ohmygod, sir, is that you? What happened? I already called for help! Where is Rossi?”

His head was swimming, too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of questions, the piercing voice cutting through the dull ringing in his ears.

“Dave is…” he got a good look at Dave and his heart sank. “Tell them to hurry.”

He barely got the words out, it felt like his lungs were collapsing. The edges of his vision grew darker and he was just so very tired. He let the phone drop out of his hand.

“Dave,” he whispered, willing the other man to turn his head, to show he was alert, but Hotch doubted a neck bent at that angle had much mobility in it. He used all his remaining strength to stretch his hand out again, to tug at Rossi’s sleeve, the wool warm beneath his fingertips. He was thinking about the warmth, wishing he could surround himself in it, as he fell unconscious.

He was sitting on a hard wood bench, staring at his knees. He didn’t need to look up to know where he was, this place had become so familiar. Maybe if he didn’t look up he wouldn’t have to see the proof of all he had lost. Maybe it wouldn’t be real if he wouldn’t acknowledge it. His team, they had died, but they hadn’t. He had been there, he should know, shouldn’t he? He felt warm air on the back of his neck but he couldn’t turn to look behind him.

"Do you see how this works?” The words oozed into his mind, touching his memories and turning them sour. He grabbed his knees with tight fingers, hoping that the pressure would wake him up, would return him to whatever moment his mind had slipped away from. He couldn’t remember when that was. Why couldn’t he just remember?

He opened his eyes and found himself in a hospital bed. He was stiff and the lights were far too bright. Something was covering his face and he reached up to knock it away, gasping for air. He was connected to an assortment of monitors and tubing, translating his body’s operations into waves of sound and color. One of those waves picked up speed as his movements become more frantic.

“Hey, you’re okay,” a familiar voice came from his right side. He had just managed to hook the corner of the plastic mask that sat over his mouth and nose. He turned away from it as he pulled it down and looked at his companion.

“Penelope?” he sounded hopeful, in need of reassurance.

“It’s me, boss man,” she sounded dispirited and her eyes were red from crying, mascara smudged beneath them. Even her outfit was somber, a pink sweater the only color over a dress with a muted black and gray pattern. In her lap she had some yarn and needles, she had clearly been trying to soothe herself with knitting. But based on the number of holes and tangles it hadn’t been very helpful.

Hotch’s movements were slow as he tried to scan the rest of the room. It was only the two of them.

“Is Dave…?”

Garcia shook her head, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. “They—they said he was gone before they got to you. That there was nothing they would have been able to do for him.”

The memory of the crushed insides of the SUV, the awkward angles and improper placement of atoms came back to him. He had known then that Dave was gone. It was cruel of him to be asking Penelope. She didn’t deserve all this. This was his fault for not stopping Peter Lewis; for letting the other man get into his head and run amok.

“Someone tampered with the lights in the intersection.” There was still a wobble in her voice but she was trying to sound strong.

His eyes cut back to her, needing to hear exactly what she was saying. “It wasn’t an accident?”

“Well it was, but I checked the traffic cameras, after everything that’s happened, you know? I needed to be sure. And someone made it so that both directions had a green light. There was no way Dave or the other driver could have known.”

Hotch frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know, sir. But I do know that something terrible is happening to my friends and I’m not going to just let it keep happening!”

Hotch considered this. “I think I might know something about it,” he says hesitantly. He was still not sure whether Peter Lewis was in or out of prison and being wrong would reveal a lot more than he would like.

“It’s frustrating because all the evidence just points to accidents or…or…” she can’t say the word. “Except this light thing!” She was clearly proud of having figured that one out.

“What about JJ?”

“Hmm?” Garcia was still thinking about the traffic lights and how someone might be able to alter their timing.

“Do they know how she died?”

“Died! JJ’s not dead!”

“But—“ Hotch froze. He looked closely at Garcia.

“JJ went home after you left to check on Derek. It was just me and Rossi in the office when we got your call,” she said it slowly, as if he was hard of hearing.

“My call?” His confusion grew, nothing she was saying matching up with what he remembered. Something was still very wrong.

She pursed her lips in concern. “I told Emily to meet us here—“

“Emily! No! She can’t be here, she needs to go home.” He had forgotten he’d called her, he wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want her anywhere near this, longed for her to be safely an ocean away from the destruction he was mixed up in. He was staring at his hands trying to focus, to connect one thought to the next. To reconcile what he was hearing with what he remembered.

“Was it like you imagined?” Something in her tone had shifted.

He looked up. “What did you say?”

“Losing them. Was it like you imagined?”

“Why are you…”

She was smiling now, not a warm Penelope Garcia smile but some eerie funhouse version, lips stretched too wide, showing all her teeth. He felt a sickness creeping in his gut, he groped around trying to find the call button but his hands wouldn’t obey him. He watched in horror as she lifted her hand, a long shiny needle grasped in her fist.

“He thought you’d like a chat first. No one is coming to help you, Aaron Hotchner.” With those final words, she stabbed herself in the neck.

Giving up on the call button, Hotch struggled to get out of bed, to get to Penelope and stop the blood suddenly pouring out of her. He was shouting but no one was coming. He would lose her too.

please stop, you’re a lunatic

hurt me (remember, you chose this!)

#Criminal Minds #tw major character death #tw guns #tw suicude #tw car crash #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #mr scratch #i'm so sorry #i did warn everyone

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drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

Petrified (pt.3)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: is this what they call a slow burn?? i promise the intense yandere stuff goes down soon...-ish. i’d like to have a new part out every week or so, give or take a few days. we’ll see how it goes, but for now enjoy the new chapter!!!

ALSO WE REACHED 200 FOLLOWERS LAST NIGHT THANKS Y’ALL, YOU’RE AMAZING

(5.8k words)

Warnings: reader experiences mild anxiety

If there was ever a time in your life when you felt like you could finally take some well needed rest, it was now.

It wasn’t like you had a choice though, your nurse making it very clear that you weren’t cleared for discharge yet. Therefore another long bout of unconsciousness was the only option you had whilst in the dreary hospital room, and waking from it felt much more pleasant than you anticipated.

Your sleep schedule appeared to be unaffected by the recent events, something you were grateful for. It had you up on this fine Sunday morning at precisely 8:12 am, according to the time on your phone. Unfortunately, you neglected to bring a charger with you to work on Friday. So when your abandoned belongings were retrieved from that dreaded alleyway, you were still left with relatively nothing to keep you occupied. The phone was running on a steadily declining 14% battery life, leaving its use to be minimized to an expensive clock.

With nothing to pass the time in that regard, you simply observed the world coming to life outside your window. It left you the chance to go over the past 48 hours in peace, and you specifically regarded the strange development from last night.

It wasn’t something you hadn’t already been over multiple times in your head, but you still couldn’t manage to wrap your mind around the motivation that was fuelling Shouta and Hizashi to propose such a request. Concern over your health did explain some of it, but the extent of the actions caused by this concern was not at all equal to the reasoning.

Regardless, you’d already accepted to fulfill their strange request, so there wasn’t much that overthinking the situation would do to benefit you at this point.

_____

Breakfast came at around 8:30 am, effectively pulling you out of your wandering thoughts. It was simple enough: eggs, sausage, toast, a side of bland oatmeal and a tall glass of water.

The nurse left you to your own devices after that, telling you that for now it was a matter of continuing the same treatment before any more judgments could be made.

This wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t growing increasingly bored by the minute due to the lack of distractions. So when the sound of a certain voice hero’s conversation could be heard on the other side of your door not long after breakfast, it served as a great relief to the mind numbing atmosphere.

Not a moment later and you heard the familiar rapping on the wooden frame, before the blond pushed it open and entered.

“How’s my sunshine doin’ this morning? Ya feelin’ any better?” Hizashi was dressed in casual clothing with his hair down. In addition, he appeared to be holding some sort of shopping bag in his right hand.

You watched as he made his way towards the right side of your bed, responding to his worries. “Well, the rest definitely hasn’t gone unnoticed. My head still hurts but they’re giving me some pretty powerful meds for that thankfully.”

You figured he would sit down in the armchair, but instead he opted for settling on the edge of your bed again. “Ya sure you got enough shut eye? I can come back if ya need to snooze a lil’ longer.”

His open compassion for your health was comforting, albeit a little insistent, but it made for a relaxing atmosphere for now.

“I don’t think I could sleep anymore no matter how hard I tried, thanks for the concern though.” You gave a warm smile, sensing that he was almost stressed over your wellbeing, unnecessarily much in your opinion.

The blond brought the bag up to rest on your lap, and vaguely you could make out the contents for a brief second.

“Well, Shou’ and I figured you didn’t have all that much to live off of since being admitted, so I went and grabbed ya some essentials on the way here.” He gestured to the bag, to which you hesitantly reached for.

He continued, “I wasn’t quite sure what my favorite listener needed, so I just bought a lil’ bit of everything.”

You peered into the opening, seeing quite the assortment of toiletries. Picking up the packet of cleansing facial wipes, something you desperately needed, you continued to peruse through the items. Smaller things like high quality travel sized tissue packets and floral scented lotions were settled aimlessly at the bottom.

One thing that did catch your eye was a small stuffed black cat, wearing a white frilly dress. You took the plushie out of the bag for further inspection, also singling it out for just being cute.

“Shou’ picked that out. Sent him some photos from the gift shop downstairs since he’s not a mornin’ person. Thought it’d keep you company until ya get outta here.” You looked up at Hizashi, seeing him smiling warmly at the thought of something so wholesome, and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“It’s adorable, thanks…” For a moment you sat in the feeling of being cared for so well, something that you didn’t have much time to receive given your lifestyle. However, that sentiment was quickly overshadowed by the circumstances you were in, particularly with this man.

Once again, your body became riddled with grief over the fact that they’d spent not only their time, but now their money on you. Not that you didn’t understand that Hizashi was genuinely concerned for you―nobody could miss that. It’s just there was no reason for it as far as you were concerned.

The two had done more than enough as it is, and the overkill only made you feel worse. “...I just―I can’t help but feel bad that you spent so much on me. I’ll pay you back completely, it’s the least I could do for how much you and Shouta have invested in me so far.”

That’s what you said, and you meant it completely. But you knew that the voice hero wouldn’t stand for it, so you could only hold onto a string of hope that he’d at least let you compensate for half of the valuables.

He almost let out an amused laugh at your worry for the state of his finances. “Look, I know ya mean well, baby. But this stuff costed no more than pocket change. After all, can’t have you bein’ neglected in this place after going through all that trouble to get ya here.”

“Can I at least pay back half, just for some peace of mind.” He was more stubborn than you initially thought, just another trait of his you were growing used to.

“Not gonna happen, sunshine! But there is one thing ya can do…”

The blond pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, unlocking it swiftly. He handed it to you, the screen appearing to show a page for new contact information. “Go on and type in those digits of yours. We’re gonna need a way to contact you if some new info pops up about the case from Friday night.”

You glanced at his awaiting expression before silently agreeing, typing in your phone number.

“Also, we gotta work out when that dinner night is happening. Can’t have you runnin’ off on us before then.”

He was right, the only way they were letting you make up for their generosity was oddly by letting them provide you more of the manner. It was your only option, so you settled with the new belongings and finished typing in your contact information.

As if to make sure you didn’t give him the wrong number, Hizashi sent you a quick text of a sun emoticon. You took the opportunity to save his information to your phone.

Just as you did, the screen turned black and wouldn’t come back to life no matter how many times you pressed the power button.

“Outta juice?”

Your eyes darted to Hizashi, who moved to rummage through the bag. He pulled out an object you somehow managed to completely miss: a phone charger.

He began unwrapping the cord from its casing, getting off the bed to find an outlet.

“The police ended up havin’ to go through your bag to file everything as evidence. Shou’ was there when it happened, told me to grab a charger cause you were missing one before I left this morning.”

Just another expensive item you wouldn’t be able to compensate for. It’s like he wants you to feel bad for being so helpless.

“Thanks…I’d be pretty screwed without you I guess.” You didn’t want to keep going on about the regrettable feeling that was all too persisting, seeming as it didn’t matter much anymore.

He handed you the end of the now plugged in charger, letting you hook your phone up to it. “No worries, actually I―”

The same nurse as last night had interrupted his train of thought, making her presence known before entering.

“Good morning Yamada sir, checking up on my patient I see?” She didn’t let him respond, “Well, I hate to break it to you but I’m going to have to steal her for a while.”

He regarded the nurse with a smile. “‘Course, I’ll talk to you later, songbird.”

The blond gestured some finger guns in your direction as he spoke, walking out of your room.

Regardless of the circumstances, you thought, at least I have someone coming to see me. That’s what I get for throwing myself into work and not making friends I guess.

You let the nurse close the door all the way, silently awaiting the slew of information about to be sent your way.

_____

It would seem at this point the only stimulation outside of examinations was in the form of boring phone games, and your newly acquired, and insistent, hero companions.

One of which was currently posted in the armchair, waiting for you to finish eating dinner before you told him about the exciting day you had. Shouta, reserved as ever, kept on his phone until then.

You finished up as soon as possible, the silence eating away at your psyche due to its growing awkwardness.

“How was your day?” Simple, the only thing you could think of asking, great for breaking the silence.

The erasure hero looked up from the screen immediately. “Good, actually. Still haven’t heard anything from the station.”

Remembering that fateful night wasn’t something you particularly wanted to do, but for now it had to be dealt with. “I doubt much will come of it, not exactly like what was going down wasn’t obvious, so no need for an investigation, right?.”

“Probably...any changes with yourself?”

You knew well enough that like his partner, Shouta seemed genuinely interested in your health. The difference was that his way of conveying this was much more...intimidating.

The look he gave you demanded a response, even if the question was harmless enough.

“Ah―not really I guess. I’m here until tomorrow morning for sure, but that’s about all they’ve said.” You wouldn’t know if he was pleased with the response if you didn’t catch the slight nod he gave.

“Well, it’s not a bad thing. You could certainly use the rest.”

Now that’s something you could agree to, but you’d still rather do so in the comfort of your own bedroom.

“Listen, as much as I want to keep you company, my students are expecting graded essays back tomorrow morning. I’m afraid I can’t stay any longer.”

While you did appreciate his presence as a change of routine for a short while, it was only to an extent. You’d be lying if you said the atmosphere didn’t feel heavy while he was around, even if just a little in times like these.

“That’s no problem, I’d hate to keep you from your work.”

He slowly stood up from the armchair, “Hizashi will probably visit tomorrow morning. He’s got the day off so he’ll likely stick around as much as possible. Just tell him to leave if he’s annoying you.”

You watched as his eyes drifted to the stuffed cat resting on the bedside table next to the bouquet, the sight influencing a tired smile.

“You should try and get to sleep early―oh, one more thing.”

Like his partner had done earlier today, he reached for his phone, handing the unlocked device to you. Having done so already, something he was also aware of, you silently typed in your information.

“Don’t be afraid to send one of us a message if you need anything.”

You returned the phone to him, “Right, thanks for stopping by Shouta.”

As he exited the room, you were left with feelings of confliction over the whole ordeal. It was strange―having someone being concerned about your wellbeing was nice, but something, you couldn’t quite place what, was getting in the way of your gratitude.

The two men were clearly busy people. Hero work, on top of being teachers, would more than suffice as something to occupy most of their time. When it comes to dealing with victims, you’d assume that for the sake of efficiency a hero would just drop you off at the nearest hospital and then be on their way.

And yet, for reasons still incomprehensible, the presence of the strange duo was something you couldn’t shake off. Perhaps it wasn’t intentional, but the reality left a peculiar underlying feeling of...suspicion?

It was too soon to say, and frankly it’d be rude to judge them after they’d been so kind to you. However you’d always been someone who falls on the more overstrung side, and neglecting the situation by simply ignoring it was not something you could do.

_____

It was just as his partner had foretold―the next morning you had once again been graced with the presence of Hizashi.

You noted how he was awfully chipper for being up at 8:20 am on a Monday, but like the couple other odd traits of his, you chose to disregard it.

Especially since this person also came bearing quite the appetizing breakfast.

“The nurse said ya didn’t have to eat the hospital food if someone brought you a meal instead. Thought you’d appreciate somethin’ homemade so I whipped it up before leaving.” This time he was seated in the armchair, likely because there wasn’t enough room on the bed with the table that was positioned over it so you could eat.

The meal consisted of―somehow still warm―scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, fruit, and a side of blueberry pancakes. All in all, it was delicious, and you didn’t quite think it was something he could just ‘whip up,’ but you’d let that slide. You thanked him profusely for it before regarding just how little you’d been informed of things since coming to the hospital.

“I didn’t even know that was allowed to be honest. They don’t tell me much aside from whether or not my condition has changed.” You tried to talk in between bites, not wanting to let the warmth dissipate by waiting to have a full conversation.

“Funny you say that cause she also told me you’d be cleared to leave by the end of the day. Looks like the hit you took wasn’t too serious.”

Well, you would’ve appreciated being the first to receive this news. Isn’t there like a doctor-patient confidentiality thing to keep others from knowing stuff like that?

Regardless, it was still good news. The hospital room was starting to drive you a bit crazy.

“That’s good to hear, thanks for letting me know.” You quietly continued your meal while Hizashi went on about similar things―cases that were like yours, his opinions of the hospital staff.

If there was anything he was good at it was filling the silence, and you supposed this was where his relationship with Shouta came in handy. Not that his partner didn’t seem to mind talking, it was just he wasn’t the most energetic when he did so, whether he knew that or not.

In general, the two of you quickly realized that there wasn’t much to discuss, given how you’d been holed up in the tiny room for the last few days―it didn’t really allow for the most exciting news.

He asked you about a few work details of your own occupation―how long you’d worked there, if you liked your coworkers―menial stuff mostly. By then you had long finished breakfast, and it would seem that the blond had no intention of leaving, much like his partner warned you of.

So, you listened patiently while he went on about this and that. Sometimes trailing off into hero stories, other times bringing up his work as a teacher.

In general, you had no problem listening to him go on. You’d speak up here and there, but not for long as he’d quickly resume with whatever topic he’d fixated on for the moment.

One would think it’d be annoying, and perhaps this was just a result of some form of exposure therapy that made it bearable, but it was enjoyable hearing him ramble.

Yet, good things only last for so long.

It’s not that you eventually found the endless discussion boring, rather the developing behaviour was due to you still recovering―even just in the slightest―from recent events. You didn’t even notice it, but gradually your eyes were becoming heavy, and the sound of Hizashi’s voice was becoming more and more distant.

Embarrassingly, he was the first to pick up on it.

He was mid sentence when he caught you nodding off. Rather than being offended, the blond actually found it endearing.

Instead of alerting you just yet that he’d taken notice of your behaviour, Hizashi silently stood up out of the chair, walking over to the windows of your room.

Your half-lidded eyes just barely picked up on the movement, vaguely seeing him pull the blinds closed before coming back to your senses.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean to―you weren’t boring me I promise. I just-”

“Relax, songbird. It’s my fault, ya must still be a lil’ done in, no worries.”

Naturally, you felt terrible. He was acting like he didn’t care, anyone would be offended at this point.

It was excruciatingly awkward, and you desperately tried to collect your thoughts. “No, no it really was interesting, you can keep going if―”

“Stop it, sunshine.” He started towards your bed, which you instinctively shrunk into. You always defaulted this way, panicking immediately in the face of little to no danger. But Hizashi wasn’t dangerous, you told yourself. He continued, “I should’ve known you weren’t better yet. Still not sure how but you really managed to wear yourself out, didn’t ya?”

He pushed you back down into bed by your shoulders while he spoke, continuing to pull up the blankets you discarded earlier.

“I’m gonna head out so you can get some more shut eye, yeah?”

“Um...o-okay. Yeah, I guess…” You inwardly cringed at how small your voice sounded, but to be fair it wasn’t like you could exactly help it.

It was confusing, how he acted so indifferent to the unspoken insult that you gave him by nearly falling asleep. Was he acting?

Hizashi moved away, heading towards the door, leaving you somewhat comfortably tucked into the hospital bed.

“Get some rest, ‘kay sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, thanks.”

You heard the door click shut as he left, the room falling into silence amidst the now dim lighting.

Okay...what the fuck.

Devoid of any distractions in your proximity, the hard thumping in your chest was more than clear. At times like these you didn’t even realize any growing anxiety―not until the ordeal was over and you were left with the aftereffects.

The attention to it was only drawn more when you processed the increased rate of beeping coming from your heart monitor.

The last thing you wanted to do was bother the poor nurse taking care of you. Steeling yourself, you took deep breaths, focusing your attention on calming down. It worked soon enough, leaving no need for medical intervention.

You noted that getting like this always drained you of energy―mentally and physically. Heeding Hizashi’s orders, it was easiest now to try and sleep off the anxiety.

You can think about whatever just happened later, maybe when your not still hospitalized.

_____

You were stirred awake by a gentle hand on your shoulder, lightly shaking your resting form. Eyes fluttering open, you observed the dedicated nurse you’ve seen time and time again leaning slightly over you.

“Miss (l/n), I have an update on your condition.”

That was more than enough to give you motivation to pull yourself from the jaws of sleep. You sat up slowly, although it was your best attempt at doing so quickly.

The nurse continued, “Well, it’s good news. You’ve been cleared for discharge. Your condition has improved considerably, so you can continue the rest of your recovery at home safely.”

You needed to hear no more, immediately looking around to find your bag that had been delivered to you from Friday night. Still, you figured that this deserved a response.

“That’s really great to hear, thank you for taking care of me...also, where are the clothes that I came here in?”

“Oh yes, they’re in your bag.” You watched as she reached underneath your bed―no wonder you couldn’t find the damn thing.

The nurse settled the bag next to you before continuing. “Here you go, miss. I’ve prescribed some pain medication for your head injury. Directions for consumption are on the label...and I believe that’s it.”

You rifled through the bag, retrieving your clothing from the bottom.

“Oh, one last thing actually. Now, this is only a recommendation, but given your health it would be beneficial if you were to remain home for the rest of the week. You can go to work if you’d wish, but it may slow your remaining recovery process.”

“I’ll have to think about that one, but thank you for letting me know.”

She turned off the heart monitor before removing the clip on your finger. The IV had been removed yesterday, so there was no need for attention in that department.

“Perfect, you can get dressed and gather your belongings. Please speak to the receptionist at the end of the hall―right before the elevator―so you can pick up the prescription before you leave.”

“Sounds good.” You offered a warm smile to her, and she politely excused herself from the room.

You got changed, clothing appearing to have been washed at some point while you were asleep. Somehow you managed to pile all the things Hizashi brought you the morning before into your backpack, and you threw the shopping bag into the garbage.

It was nice to finally stretch your legs for longer than a few minutes to use the washroom, although your muscles did feel somewhat weaker now.

Slipping on your jacket and bag, you exited the room, closing the door behind you. The receptionist’s desk had been exactly where the nurse said it would be, and you handed over your information to the man behind the counter. He left for a moment before returning with a paper, your prescription printed on it with an illegible doctor’s signature. You thanked the man before heading to the elevator and stepping in.

Nothing was more enticing at this point than returning to the comfort of your own home. The thought of your bed waiting for you was enough to have you drooling, being so done with the unfamiliar setting of the hospital.

The elevator chimed, signalling it had reached its destination of the ground floor. The doors slid open and you stepped out, heading straight for the front entrance.

At least you were, until you collided into some poor unsuspecting human standing in your path.

How many times are you going to embarrass yourself before the day is up?

The person had caught you by the shoulders, stabling the both of you. You were quietly trying to apologize while, painfully so, you lifted your head to assess the damage.

You weren’t sure to be thankful or not, but you were met with a familiar gaze.

“You really shouldn't keep your head down like that all the time. Are you okay?”

Shouta looked down at you with a stern yet concerned look. He didn’t exactly back away, rather he continued his hold on your shoulders as if you were going to fall over any second. Hizashi also stood close by his side, and therefore close to you.

The sudden proximity had your head spinning, blood quickly rushing to your face.

“Ah―yeah. I’m fine.” Your response was pitifully sputtered out, and gently you moved back, out of his grasp.

“You headin’ out? Shou’ and I were just comin’ to check up on ya.”

The blond regarded his partner, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll drive you home, have you eaten yet?” The erasure hero didn’t seem to be asking permission over the matter, but you still forced yourself to give them your take on it.

“You don’t have to do that, I was just about to call a cab. And I have stuff at home for dinner, so I honestly can’t impose on you two anymore.”

“Aw, but we're already here sunshine. It’s no problem, c’mon.” The blond flashed a warm smile before moving to place a hand just beneath the nape of your neck, guiding you to the front entrance alongside his partner.

You were beginning to grow frustrated with the way the two acted, disregarding your wishes so casually. Sure, they weren’t doing anything inherently wrong―just helping a poor civilian get home―but that wasn’t what irked you.

They were too insistent, and it was making you uncomfortable. Clearly they either didn’t notice, or simply didn’t care.

Heroes or not, you couldn’t just let them do whatever they want.

But...would they be offended if you got mad? They’re just trying to help, so what’s the big deal? It’s not like you would have to deal with it much longer, surely you could put up with a bit more of their pushiness.

...Just endure it a little more, you’ve already done enough damage anyways.

It was growing dark out, the sun having just set over the horizon. The crisp air hit you hard as the automatic doors slid open, being equally refreshing and shocking to your system.

An involuntary shiver wracked your body, and you felt Hizashi’s hand slip to your shoulder, gently pulling you closer to him.

It made your stomach churn ever so slightly, but you pushed the feeling down.

Shouta walked in front of you two, presumably leading you to their car in the parking lot. Approaching it, you weren’t surprised to see the expensive looking exterior, and were even less surprised to find an equally luxurious interior as the erasure hero opened the backseat door for you.

You offered a quiet ‘thanks’, removing your backpack and slipping in. The door shut with a heavy thud, and you waited for the two men to enter the vehicle while putting on your seatbelt. It smelled of pine inside, likely due to an air freshener somewhere that you couldn’t see.

They stepped inside, immediately turning on the heat. Shouta was given the responsibility of driving tonight.

“We can grab you something to eat on the way home, I know a couple good joints around your area.” Hizashi seemed quite invested on the topic of good food, but you had to turn him down at least once today.

“Oh, no thank you. I’ve actually got a frozen dinner that I made last week that I was gonna heat up.” You felt the car start to move, grateful to be getting home faster than you would’ve by cab.

For the first time in a while, the blond actually acknowledged and accepted your opinion. “Alright then. Hey, did the nurse lady have anything new to say ‘bout the whole passing out thing?”

“Surprisingly not, guess it wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

Yeah, because they didn’t know why you were so tired, or how getting the crap scared out of you was the final driving force that night.

“That’s good to hear. I take it you’ll be staying home for the rest of the week to rest?”

Once again, you noted the tone in Shouta’s voice that was a little off-putting. He was asking a question, one that you had the freedom to answer however you see fit. But the lowness, sounding like a warning rather than a simple inquiry about your future actions was all too present.

It made you nervous.

“Well...I’m definitely going to take Tuesday and Wednesday off. But I’m already feeling good so I won’t bother to cancel for the rest of the week after that.”

You could only anticipate the disagreement in silence. And disagree they did.

“I’m not too sure that’s a good idea, sunshine. You went through a lot, its best ya hold off for a while.” You could hear the passionate concern in Hizashi’s voice, but it did little to deter you.

You briefly glanced outside, thankful that your apartment wasn’t too far from the hospital. “Maybe, but the end of the week is always really busy, and I usually handle evening shifts anyways. It wouldn't really be fair on my coworkers to bail for that long.”

Without skipping a beat, Shouta replied. “It’s not fair on yourself to put unnecessary strain on your body.”

Well, he’s not wrong, but that’s not the point.

“I can handle it just fine, besides it’s still a few da―”

“‘Zashi told me you fell asleep while he was there today. That doesn’t sound like handling it to me.”

Confrontation had never been your strong suit, even less so when it was directed at you. His words made you want to disappear into thin air, or have the backseat swallow you whole―anything would do at this point. You felt the shame from earlier today resurfacing, despite the internal fight you put up to contain it.

You were a little over halfway home.

“I was just a bit tired. Nothing a nap c-couldn’t solve.”

This time the blonde spoke up. “We’re just thinking ‘bout what’s best for you right now. And with the way things have been...maybe working so soon ain’t the greatest idea.”

The atmosphere was weighing down on you, thick with tension likely only you could feel. “The nurse said that it was okay to work if I wanted, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Is that all she said?” Your eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, Shouta’s hard gaze meeting yours for a moment before you shied away.

God, this man is relentless.

You could lie, it might make this easier. But something told you that they would know if you did. They were pro heroes after all―didn’t they train to detect stuff like that?

“She said working might slow the recovery process, but I think two more days is more than enough time to get better.”

The two men exchanged looks mixed with annoyance and doubt, which you would’ve seen if you hadn’t had your head down, incessantly picking at your nails to distract from the bubbling anxiety you felt.

“Songbird, if the nurse said to stay home then you should listen to her. Going back to work ain’t gonna do ya any good.”

What could you say to prevent this from getting worse?

“She recommended staying home, I don’t have to listen to her.”

“Even though you should?” There was that tone again.

There was a silence in the car that felt like it lasted for an eternity. Clearly both of them were thinking the same thing, Shouta was just more insistent over it, much more insistent.

“What I should do is take responsibility as an employee. I’ll be okay by the time I have to go back.” Somehow you managed a response, despite feeling yourself physically shrinking back into the seat with every passing second.

Judging the surroundings, you were about one minute away from your apartment. One minute away from freedom.

You heard the blond sigh, “We know you wanna work, just promise you’ll think about staying home this week, give us some peace of mind?”

If that’s what will get them to stop hounding you over the matter, then whatever.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

The car pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex. You would’ve jumped out at full speed and ran into the building to escape the tension at this point. But that would be rude, and you didn’t want to look like a lunatic. And even if you didn’t care about that, the car doors were locked.

“We better not have to bring your unconscious body to the hospital again, especially if it happens because you thought going back to work was a good idea. If you think we’re worried about you now...well, this would be nothing compared to what would happen if you pass out again. Understand?” Shouta glared at you in the rearview mirror as he spoke, creating more than a lasting impression of his warnings.

You swallowed dryly, “Of course, thanks for the ride.”

Another moment of silence, then the click of the car doors unlocking sounded.

You opened the door, grabbing your bag while stepping out, trying not to trip over yourself in the rushed panic you were in.

Rounding the vehicle, you started towards the entrance to the complex.

“We’ll catch ya later, sweetheart!” Hizashi’s voice boomed after you, having the car window rolled down.

Out of courtesy, you turned back around, giving a small wave and a smile before stepping through the doors.

In a haze, you shuffled back to your apartment, pulling the keys out of your jacket pocket. You locked the door as soon as you stepped inside, chucking your bag on the floor in the entryway.

You didn’t even bother to heat up dinner, knowing the nauseating feeling in your stomach wouldn’t allow for sustenance at this time. Instead you showered, taking the time to massage your scalp in an attempt to relax.

Sliding into your pyjamas, you found that eating still wasn’t an option, but drinking likely was.

Not alcohol, but herbal tea―it always seemed to do the trick.

The exhaustion set in quickly after you’d gotten only halfway through the cup, so you retreated to the comfort of your bed. You knew the feeling was a mixture of coming down from a stress induced high, the tea, and your still recovering system.

It served as plenty of foundation to knock you out the second your head hit the pillow. This time, you welcomed the inevitable unconsciousness with open arms.

End of Part 3

_____

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