#medic elbows-deep in there before it occurs to him to ask what he's looking for | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

athenaistired · 4 months

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𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐭.𝟑 //

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: ᴅᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴀᴅ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ, ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ ᴏꜰꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ.

art credit & word count: 2634

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ (ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ): ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇꜱ, ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ᴀʙᴏʀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴘʟᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ, ɢʀɪᴇꜰ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ʙᴜʟʟʏɪɴɢ

— 𝑴𝒀 𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑻𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 !3!

Donna woke up to the sunlight forcing its way through her eyelids. She was in an unfamiliar bed, with Diluc gone from her side, and with a strange string attached to her arm. Her memory was still hazy; the only thing that she could recall was that she was speaking to you about Diluc, but somehow she ended up here.

“You’re awake.” An unfamiliar man in a black suit was sitting in front of her bed on a chair, he seemed to be reading a book in another language with a drawing of a human’s head on the cover, “I’m Sebastian, personal doctor working for Master Y/N in case of emergencies. Just call me by my name. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore all over..” Donna mumbled back, to which the man nodded, “And.. My stomach kind of hurts..”

“That’s expected.” He reached for the paper laying by her nightstand, “You’ve been here for 32 hours, in and out of consciousness. Your medical record is missing information about your allergies, but considering that you and Master Y/N were having tea together, I’d say that you had quite an aggressive reaction towards some type of fruit which was used to make the blend.”

The moment he explained what had occurred hours prior — memories came rushing back in Donna’s mind, and she instantly felt more awake than ever.

“So.. It wasn’t poison?” She asked with hesitance, and the man almost dropped the mug which he was holding in his other hand.

“What kind of person do you think Master Y/N is to poison someone in a broad daylight, in their own home, with this many people around? Of course this was an accident.” The doctor scoffed and got up, “Anyways, leave whenever you feel like it. You seem more than fine to me.” He quickly detached the IV drip out of her hand, and bandaged up her elbow, “Try not to put any unnecessary strain on this arm.”

“A-Alright..”

Donna had actually never seen one of the proper doctors before in her life. Her family were strong believers in Herbology and Barbados’ will, so she wasn’t exactly sure why the doctor had concluded she was allergic to some fruit. Her whole life she tended to the gardens, sold massive varieties of flowers, and even once was a waitress at the bar with all kinds of drinks. Something didn’t seem to perfectly match what Sebastian had described, but maybe she just had to ask you what the two of you had that day to get to the bottom of this situation.

“Donna! Are you alright?!”

Suddenly, the doors bursted open with Diluc rushing inside. He looked even worse than last time she saw him. He was beginning to smell, his hair was forming mats and shining with grease, and his eyes were puffed and red; huge eye-bags forming above his cheeks.

“H-honey.. What has happened to you?” The woman gasped in shock at the appearance of her lover. He seemed to be taken with surprise by her reaction, and took a few steps back to stare at himself in the mirror.

The man froze.

Slowly, he reached to cup his own face as if he couldn’t recognize it.

“That dammed Y/N..” He mumbled to himself, “I am actually falling apart..” He whispered, while crouching down to take a seat on the ground. Now, Donna was more than worried. She got up from her bed and hugged her lover in a tight embrace, “Did they do something to you?” He pulled away to look deep into the woman’s eyes, “Did they hurt you?”

“I..” The brunette wasn’t sure what to say. Was she poised? Was this intentional? Accidental? Were you naturally hostile or angered by the circumstances? She had no clue. “I don’t know. Sebastian told me that I had an intense allergic reaction to something and that Y/N called in the medics to save me.”

“Oh.” Diluc blinked in surprise, “T-that’s confusing me even more now..”

“I know..” The woman sighed, “I know.”

You sat at the edge of your bed, as Marie kneeled before you with your right hand in her skillful palms. Your feet were soaking in a warm tub with rose petals floating above the water’s surface, and the maid gently trimmed your cuticles and the length of your nails to perfection. The two of you sat in silence throughout the whole procedure, as you stared at the flickering flame of a candle on your nightstand.

“What do you think, Marie? What are they going to do next?” You asked her a question, and she didn’t even bat an eye before answering to you.

“They are going to try to murder you, my Master.”

You didn’t expect such conclusion. Truly, your death seemed to be an only out for Diluc’s desperate cry for freedom. The moment he’d sign a contract provided by you — his life would be over. Staying in the same mansion with you would also ensure his and Donna’s suffering until their last breaths. But in order for him to be back in control of his future — he would need to erase you. You let out a bitter laugh, however, Marie’s expression remained as stoic as always.

“What do you think I should do?” You questioned further. You watched her grab a warm cloth, and rub your palms in gentle motion, as if trying to cleanse you of your sins.

“I am a mere servant, my Master.” She reminded you.

For a second, you saw red. Without a thought you slapped her hands away from yours’ and grabbed at her chin — forcing her to look you in the eyes. She didn’t tremble, she didn’t fight, she just froze. Your anger vanished, and slowly you melted into a fake smile. Your thumb hovered over her bottom lip, and you brought her closer to yourself, until you both could feel each others’ breaths.

“You’re my servant, Marie. I don’t keep fools around me, do I?” You then let go off her, making her lose her balance for a second, but she quickly gathered herself and bowed her head in submission, “Now, speak.” She rose her gaze, and you encouraged her once again with a raised brow.

“I believe for there to be two options.” Marie began her speech, and took your feet out the tub to place them on her thighs and wipe them dry, “You get rid of Master Diluc and send Mistress Donna back to Mondstat. Nobody would believe her that it was you who hurt Master Diluc, but even if they would, a single mention of his crimes across the world and that it was all done in self-defense would guarantee your innocence.”

She was finally done taking care of you, and proceeded to reach for freshly the ironed socks by her side.

“And second?”

“You get rid of Mistress Donna, and make Master Diluc fall into the deepest depths of despair, so that he won’t have anyone else to turn to for comfort — but you.” Marie buckled up your shoes, and stood up, instantly straightening her back, “The choice lies in whether you prefer to execute quick revenge and forget, or, to keep a hold of your revenge until your last breath.”

You laughed at her words.

“Do you believe for revenge to be a waste of time?”

“Many people who consider themselves above others would say that, but I solely believe that your decision is absolute, my Master. I believe a yearn for revenge made you into a person who you are today, and Master..” Marie locked her hands together by her chest, “You are an entity beyond my comprehension.”

“You flatter me, Marie.”

Looking at her, you saw emotions which Diluc had never expressed towards you. Yes, he loved you. But young love comes and goes. Meanwhile every single one of your servants in this house, were undoubtedly loyal to you. There was no hesitation that every single maid, butler, cook, and even the recently hired doctor would die for you. Kill for you. Live for you.

Diluc was never any of those things.

“I think I made my decision.”

You’ve made that decision long time ago, and there was no reason to back out on it now. Even if Diluc would put you in the casket, you would crawl out with a knife in your hand to continue to haunt him. You weren’t sure where this obsession was coming from. Perhaps it was boredom. Maybe, you were just that evil and prideful. Or even..

It was just fun.

Donna decided to finally leave Master Y/N house and go for a walk. They have been living in the mansion for a month now, and each day was worse than the previous one. She tried to make it work. She followed all lessons which you signed her up for, she learned the etiquette, she put herself on a diet, did her hair to the best of her ability, but one thing for sure — each day was more miserable than the other.

The moment that the sun would rise, she would feel the dread wash over her. Even when you weren’t at the mansion your spirit and your presence were felt everywhere. Your mere gaze was driving her insane, even giving her nightmares. She had a dream, where you were smirking at her with a maniacal glare in your eyes whilst holding a blade to her throat. Then, there were visions of you poisoning her, assassinating her, or hanging her off the ceiling.

Donna’s thoughts were getting darker and darker. From a light and careless girl, she has become something else entirely.

Perhaps, being with Diluc was the biggest mistake of her life.

As she finally stepped through the gates of Mondstat — the whispers began. Nobody in this city knew what you were truly like. How terrifying, how cruel, how manipulative. They all saw you from the best angle, meanwhile, Donna was seen from her worst.

“Homewrecker..”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

“To get together with a married man, no shame at all!”

“How can she even bear to come back here..”

Even though they were mere whispers, their voices seemed to be louder than her own thoughts. She had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep herself away from shedding tears. Her life had become so terrible. Although she was outside, it felt like the curtains were still drawn. She couldn’t see the sunlight as bright as it used to be. A part of her was still locked away in that mansion — forever caged.

She felt her heart rase, her breathing picking up — she was panicking. There were so many people, and they all hated her. Yes, she did a bad thing, but did she really deserve all of this? Were her good deeds before this now completely forgotten? Where did all of her friends go when she needed them the most?

She had no one.

She was so alone.

“Is Sister Barbara around?” Donna asked as she had finally reached the church. Her feet felt sore, and the base of her spine was aching.

“One second.” One of the nuns had ran off to get her. As Donna waited she took a seat and looked around the church. Perhaps, she should beg, no, plead Barbados for His guidance. For His help. For His involvement.

“She’s here.”

“Donna! I haven’t seen you in a while.” If there were someone who hadn’t changed their attitude towards her — it was all the nuns, especially Sister Barbara. Maybe she was just very good at hiding her real thoughts, but Donna preferred to indulge herself in a more positive light.

“Hi, Sister Barbara.” The brunette murmured shyly, “I sent you a letter a week ago..” She reminded the other, and at first Barbara seemed confused, until she remembered.

“Ah, yes, yes!” The young girl continuously nodded her head, “Let’s head to a more private room.” She gestured for Donna to follow her out the church, and into the next building.

Barbara wasn’t the only doctor in Mondstat, in fact, she wasn’t even an actual licensed professional how Sebastian was. However, people with healing hydro abilities were granted permission to accept patients and examine them if required. Donna didn’t trust Sebastian, so, she sent a letter ahead explaining her symptoms to the blonde girl and arranged time and date of their meeting.

Barbara made the woman lay down on the examination table, as she checked what worried her most. She applied pressure on different parts of her body, especially her stomach. Then, a frown covered her face and she spread out her palms across Donna’s stomach — hydro particles suddenly formed in the air and circled around each one of her fingers — until they had vanished. It seemed that the blonde had come to her conclusion, but was hesitating to speak.

“Donna..”

“What? What is it?” The brunette was already imaging the worst. Was she dying? She must be dying! “What’s wrong with me?” The longer she wasn’t hearing an answer, the more panicked she got.

“You’ve had a miscarriage.”

What.

“I.. I was pregnant?” Donna stared, and Barbara nodded, “What do you mean I had a miscarriage?” She breathed out a pained laugh, “I didn’t bleed or anything.. I..” And then — it hit her. She understood what happened. You didn’t poison her that day. Your intent wasn’t her assassination, but rather.. “N-no way..”

She was drowning.

Her lungs were getting filled with the sea of sorrow.

“NOOOOOooooOOoOOOooOOooo!” A howling, blood-curdling cry was heard echoing through the halls of the hospital. Her tears were running down her cheeks like a river, and Barbara’s comforting embrace felt like the last hold on her humanity.

That day Donna hadn’t just lost her past, but she also lost her future.

Donna came back home only a week later. She might have not even known her child, but the grief was weighting down at her heart. She always wanted to be a mother, and from a young age she was told to be infertile. She never said anything to Diluc about it, because the topic was never brought up. But now, she was finding out that her miracle baby was forcefully taken out of her. She felt violated, torn, and broken. Every part of her soul had shattered like glass with pieces scattered so far apart that they’ll never be fixed back together.

“Donna.. Finally.”

Diluc was hugging her, but she couldn’t even feel it. Her body just froze, meanwhile, her gaze and mind were elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about her lost child. Was it a girl, a boy, or twins? Were they going to have her brown her or their father’s crimson locks? What about their eyes, their height, their smiles? Were they going to grow up to be strong and powerful, or would they prefer a more standard and quiet life? Why did this happen to her? Why wasn’t she given a chance?

If only you had asked her to decide between her child and Diluc, she would have chosen her child in a heartbeat.

“Where have you been?” The man whispered into her ear, and she felt his tears falling onto her shoulder and soaking through her shirt. She hadn’t cried since that day. She hadn’t even said a word. Her whole world was stuck in that one moment, unable to move on, “What happened to you, my beautiful?” Diluc was playing with the locks of her hair, just how he used to.

He hadn’t changed, but she was now a different person. She was in grief. He was in despair.

“Can we kill them?”

Diluc instantly pulled away, and stared at Donna’s empty eyes. He blinked once, twice, but still couldn’t believe his ears.

“K-kill who?”

“Master Y/N. I want to take their life.“

FINAL CHAPTER !

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nightcityscreamsheet · 2 months

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Red Jewel of Night City - Part 1

She leaned on the countertop, one elbow firmly planted on the glass display while she taped the glass with her nails from the other hand. The gold shimmering off of the expensive cyberware under her in the glass display painted her chin and chest with a brilliant light. Her eyes darted over the Night City populous as they walked by her upscale cyberware storefront in The Glen just south of the city center. Bored out of her mind, waiting for a customer to stop in, anyone. Clearly these items were way out of range for the average gonk. She knew though, one good sale could hold her off for the month. Not many customers were looking for upscale cyberware with encrusted gem stones and diamonds. These pieces were specially designed by you for those who wanted to flex their eddies at the most exclusive club. Failure isn't a fear. Jewelina came from a wealthy mining family from Canada. Her parents gave her a large sum of money to start her dream business in Night City. Her parents were reluctant to have her live and work there, but Jewelina was always a rebel; as rebellious as one can be being a Corpo kid.

She dreamed of excitement. A life of unknowns. A life of randomness and lack of structure. Maybe it was her naiveness or she truly had it in her to live a wild life.

Before that thought could process in your mind, the door slides open and a man with a gun begins to shout. Clearly he was bent on robbing His eyes soaked from sadness, tears gliding over his cheap cyberware on his face. The gun trembles in his hand with ragged clothing blowing around his body. Rage and desperation rest deep within his eyes. Within a second, your arasaka turrets swivel out of its round casing to instantly focus on their target. “STOP” Jewelina screams, instructing the machines to postpone their goal of dispatching the wayward street rat.

She stared into his trembling eyes as they darted around from the turrets and back to her. His racing mind begins to slow, staggering away from frustration and fear to confusion and curiosity. “What the hell is she doing?” he thought. His tarot hand clearly did not benefit him in life, but the wheel of fortune may have been pulled from the stack.

“It’s ok” she gestures with her hand signaling him to lower his weapon.

*BANG* a bullet flies by her body and punches him in the left shoulder sending him spinning to the ground. An underpaid ex Militech employee tasked with security for the building Jewelina leases from flies from the back door. His skills in defense are limited as his job for Militech was to be a field cook. Nonetheless, his back remains straight and his interest rate on his Thronton car surely is somewhere in the 40% range.

Jewelina runs over to the man. She sees the wound but notices it's not gushing blood. A good sign it's not mortal in the short term but it will need immediate medical attention. The guard in a fit of hysterics runs out of the building after dropping his gun.

She asks him his name. “Grader” he mumbles, seemingly accepting his fate of dying on the floor. She becomes nervous that he may not be faring too well and starts to worry. She knows the local EMTs wont get to him in time and likely won't provide care based on his situation. Trauma team won't tend to him without a policy. Suddenly it occurs to her that she has a platinum policy.

*BANG* Another bullet finds its mark but this time on Jewelina’s leg, self inflicted. She knows they'll be there in about 7 minutes. Plenty of time to negotiate a policy for Grader on her phone.

They both lay there bleeding, his eyes glossing over wondering what she was doing. “You didn't want to hurt anyone but clearly you wanted to hurt yourself.” His head shifts away from looking at her and up towards the ceiling. He's not doing well. His skin begins to turn pale and his eyes are getting heavy. He's content in his approach to death. Her kindness was worth more than the gold and diamonds he sought.

A deep rumble can be heard from a distance. It gets louder as you hear people lightly screaming as they run. The signature sounds of Trauma Team swooping in is clear. The thrusters kick up rocks, dust and trash mixing with the momentum of fleeing people.

“She's our patient” a muffled voice asserts as they run in the door. Assuming he had shot her, one of the EMTs kicks him in the side of the head with his boot while another kicks away the pistol. “STOP, he has a policy too” she proclaims with a tremble in her voice. “Negative ma’am our callout was only for you” they assert back as they begin to tend to her wounds and throw him out of the way. “I just created a policy for him a few minutes ago it should have gone through.” Another EMT fiddles slowly on his device and finds the new policy holder. [Pending Financial Transaction] shows above the policy holder's name. “GOD DAMN IT HELP HIM” she screams while frantically crying. Finally, the eddies clear her account and they leap into action to tend to his wounds just shy of his eyes slipping into oblivion. They are stabilized on site, put onto stretchers and whisked into the humming Trauma vehicle. The thrusters fire up and the Trauma unit takes off towards the hospital where they will both get the best care only eddies can buy.

Clicking away on a computer, a reporter hears the callout cross over a police scanner. “Shots Fired at Jewelina’s Cyberware Boutique, Trauma Team inbound.” The man has known about this little shop down the road, fascinated by the design and Jewelina’s ability to stay in business and safe in this city with no frequent sales and the 2nd amendment right being more important than clean water. He picks up his camera and rushes down to the store front. The man runs an independent screamsheet after being fired from a local news agency for his shady methods of covering stories. He isn't about finding truth in a story, but creating truth in a story. For his own vanity and popularity. Ever the opportunist, he begins to take photos of the scene. The expensive cyberware, the dangling Arasaka turrets, the gun on the ground and blood on the floor. The contrast between the worlds is too tempting to ignore. This could be the story he's looking for, a story he can fabricate to get his name back on the map.

#cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #red jewel of night city #cyberpunk red #cyberpunk fanfic

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softhairedhotch · 3 years

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Can you do like a one shot where reader helps Aaron with his weekly medicine (from the stabbing) and like tries to make him feel better about himself

thank you for the request!! this really stuck with me n so i just had to write it <33

gender neutral reader <3

warnings/content: mentions of stabbing, talk of medication, comfort

word count: 1.4k

Also on AO3!

medication.

Everyone knew that Aaron had been stabbed by Foyet, there was no one in the FBI or surrounding areas who didn’t know, the story being spread around as if it were a long-lost legend being told under the moonlight around a flickering campfire. But what they weren’t aware of was the toll it took on him, the weight on his shoulders from all the pain and memories, every sleepless night because of nightmares and the inability to force himself to take his medication. It was a process he dreaded each waking breath and restless slumber, something that shouldn’t be avoided but something he simply couldn’t deal with. It was his biggest regret and biggest insecurity.

When the two of you first started dating, a few years after the event, he kept his need for medicine a secret, hiding the pill bottles as if they were something to be ashamed of. To him they were, and that broke your heart.

It wasn’t long before you found out, of course. It wasn’t an easy thing to hide, him having to remove himself from whatever the two of you were doing at odd times with a defeated look in his eye, coming back a few minutes later looking seconds away from breaking down. You’d grown accustomed to this, putting two and two together but not wanting to bring it up until he was ready to do so himself. However, as you began to stay over at his apartment more often, sleeping over and waking up in his warm embrace, you realized that there were no specific times where he’d leave. He seemingly had no schedule, leaving whenever the thought to do so occurred to him, sometimes going days without doing it, and that concerned you. If you were right and he was taking medication, then he was forgetting to do so until he was in too much pain to ignore it any longer. The thought upset you and you realized that if you didn’t confront him it was simply going to get worse.

So you waited until he had finished a case, shuffling through the door with hunched yet relieved shoulders. The case had been less hard-hitting than others, being solved in two days and many people being saved in the process, but as always it still affected everyone involved. He shrugged off his blazer, draping it neatly over the back of the couch, before slouching across the cushions and closing his eyes with a deep sigh.

With a glass of water in your hand, you walked over to where he lay, sitting on the edge of the couch beside him. “Here, drink this.”

He sat up with his elbow, taking the glass out of your hand and taking small sips. His eyes were still closed, clearly exhausted after closing the case, flying home, and finishing off any paperwork he had laying about in his office. “Thank you,” he breathed out.

“You had your meds today?” You asked, casually. That was the easiest way to approach the situation, a careful but caring question that held no judgment whatsoever. He froze in place, hand tightening around the glass for a moment as the question cut through his hazy thoughts. It was silent for a few moments, his mind catching up and processing the question, and so you reached out to card your hands through his hair, slowly as to not startle him. “Aaron?”

The question settled over him and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to regain his vision, looking up at you. “Who told you?”

“You did, silly. I put the pieces together.”

It was silent for another few minutes as he stared up at you, eyes full of confusion as if he couldn’t quite believe it. Your hand still softly combed through his hair as you saw the gears turn in his head, him wondering how to approach the conversation. Finally, he breathed out deeply, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You should become a profiler.”

You laughed, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “I know, I spend far too much time with you,” you mumbled, moving down to press another kiss but this time to his lips. He kissed back, slow and steady, admiring the way you felt against him.

“I haven’t taken my meds today, no,” he mumbled against your lips after a few moments, embarrassed.

You smiled a small smile, kissing him once more. “It’s okay, honey,” you pulled back, stroking his cheek, watching his tired body lean into the comforting touch. “Where are they?”

“In my go-bag.”

With a nod and a kiss to his nose (in which he huffed a laugh), you walked to where it was, unzipping it and digging through the contents, pulling out a large zip-lock bag full of rattling boxes and bottles. There were way more than you originally thought and your stomach plummeted—how did he keep this a secret for so long and why? You closed his bag up before walking over to the couch once more, tapping his leg as a way to get him to sit up. He tiredly complied, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and moving so that he was at the far end, facing you. You sat on the other end, facing him with your legs crossed, and placed the medication between you. He stared down at it with a gulp and so you reached out to stroke at his knee with a gentle smile.

“So, which ones do you need to take and when?”

He numbly began to talk you through each one, pointing them out and allowing you to read through the name, contents, and dose requirements. He told you when he should take them and after much persuading, he told you when he actually did take them, which was hardly ever. He claimed that he didn’t need them, that they were too much hassle, and that he was fine, and so you leaned over to stroke at his cheek with your thumb to tell him that they were there to help him, that they were nothing to be afraid of. It took a while, but he nodded into your palm, eyes never straying from all the white boxes and bottles littered across the dark leather of the couch.

“Give me a second, honey,” you whispered, standing up to reach for a bag of items you had left on the kitchen counter. Once settled back down on the couch he gave you a curious look and all you could do was smile at him, pulling out the items from the bag: a long but thin colourful notepad that specialized in daily reminders, a large solid black bottle for liquids, namely water, and a few medicine trays. The moment he saw them his shoulders slumped and you were sure he was near tears. “Are you okay?”

He took a deep breath, only then tilting his head up to look you in the eyes. “I don’t think anyone has ever cared about me as much as you do.”

Your smile was sad but still present, hand finding its way back to his knee again, comforting him with your touch. “You care so much for everyone else, it was time for someone to return the favour.”

“I’m glad it was you,” he mumbled, hand clasping over yours and thumbing at your knuckles with a feather-light touch. “I’m always going to be glad it was you.”

You leaned forward using the hand on his knee to press a kiss to his cheek, watching his eyebrows and jaw loosen as his lips upturned into a soft, genuine smile. “Okay,” you started, pulling back, “let’s get this figured out, then.”

And so the two of you went through each box, each bottle, each individual pill, scrawling notes and times and reminders—“Take your meds and please remember to smile, honey” and “Call me if it gets too much” as well as “You can do this, I’m so proud of you”—down, filling up the medicine tray with the correct amount of pills for each day. You showed him how each capsule could be disconnected, allowing him to store a collection of pills in his suits at all times so he’d never forget again, which he smiled at. You promised him that’d he never have to go this alone again, that you’d always be there to be his anchor, his rock, to ground him and remind him that he deserved to be happy and safe, to remind him that needing medication to stay that way wasn’t something to be embarrassed or ashamed about, it should be embraced.

#fic requests #aaron hotchner #tw medication #tw medicine #tw stabbing #tw stabbing mention #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hothcner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #comforting aaron hotchner

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imagineyourworld · 3 years

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Peer Pressure

Kix x Fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: Kix finds himself giving the princess medical assistance, and even though the two of them hit it off, no one else seems to like the two of them together

Warnings: Mention of blood, mention of a bombing (happened prior to the story), people being a-holes towards the clones

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The first time Kix sa you he could have sworn time stopped for a moment. All his bleeding brothers, the destroyed droids and remains of the palace faded into the background the second he laid eyes on you. And when you ended up walking straight towards him his heart skipped a beat. Though he soon scolded himself for this when he saw that you weren’t exactly walking, but rather jumping on one leg, trying your best not to put any pressure on the other. Kix hurried over to you and without either of you having to say a single word he put his arm around your waist and guided you over to one of the makeshift beds along the tent walls. “Thank you”, you said. Those two words made Kix turn his attention away from your leg and to your eyes. Even though they haven’t been on this planet for very long, everyone in the 501st could tell that the inhabitants were not big fans of clones, most of them ignored them altogether while others were nothing but mean and cold. Your words might have been the first friendly ones he had heard since their arrival that didn’t come from one of his brothers. “You’re welcome”, he replied, trying his best to focus on your leg again and not your gorgeous eyes. “What seems to be the problem?” You shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. I was with my family, trying to escape the palace as soon as the alarms went off, but then there was this loud noise and next thing I knew I was all alone and the walls around me were nothing more than dust and pebbles. Kix nodded along while you talked. “Do you mind lifting your dress so I can have a closer look at your leg?” You did as you were told, lifting the hem of your dress inch by inch until Kix told you to stop. He could now see that your knee was at a weird angle and there was a long cut along your calf, which was still bleeding. He studied the dark fabric of your dress for a moment to see if there was any indication as to how much blood you’ve lost, but all he noticed that the dress, though now dirty and torn in some places, seemed incredibly expensive. You must be a very high up servant, or maybe even some kind of noble woman. “Your knee is dislocated and you have a cut on your calf. It’s bleeding a lot, but not deep, so you should be on your feet in no time”, he explained as he began to disinfect your wound before wrapping it up. “Try not to put too much weight on this leg the next couple of days, a day or two of bedrest would help as well, if that’s possible. And the bandages should be changed once a day until the wound is closed. As for your knee, this will hurt for just a second, you can squeeze my arm, it might help with the pain.” Once again you were a model patient and did as told while Kix tried not to let your warm hand on his arm affect him. He had put off parts of his armour a while earlier due to the hot climate and now there was only a thin layer of fabric between your skin and his. “What’s your name?”, you asked as Kix put his hands on your knee, whether because you were really interested or to distract you Kix didn’t know, but he found that it didn’t really matter to him. You had asked for his name, not his number as the few other people he had spoken to on this planet, one of whom had only asked so he could report him for daring to touch him while placing a bacta patch on him. “Kix. My name’s Kix”, he said and quickly followed up by asking for your name. “I’m (Y/N)”, you said, though you rather screamed the last syllable in the short moment it took Kix to relocate your knee. “It’s very nice to meet you, Kix. And thank you so much for your help. What can I do to repay you?” Kix, now finished with his work, looked at you in shock. Surely you had to be joking. “I... “, he began, not sure what to say. In all his time as a medic, this was a question he had never heard. “Maybe we could meet again for dinner and you could tell me what you’ve thought of”, you suggested with a bright smile on your lips that made Kix’s mouth dry. Did you just ask him on a date? Were you flirting with him? “I’d like that. Especially after the day I’ve had”, he finally admitted. Still smiling you leaned forward, placing your elbows on your legs and your head in your hands until your face was only inches way from Kix, who was still kneeling in front of you. “Go on, tell me about your day.” Kix scanned your face, looking for any trace of irony or cruelty, but when he didn’t find anything that might lead him to believe that you weren’t sincere he began. “Well, it was a long day and a short night. Jesse, that’s one of the brothers I’m closest with, woke me at the crack of dawn because Hardcase had dropped his caf and cut himself on the broken cup trying to pick up the pieces. Once his hand was bandaged Echo and Fives came running through the medbay, trying to hide from Dogma, who they had pulled some sort of prank on. And before that could be settled Rex commed us to get us over here because the palace was under attack.” Kix surprised himself with how much he had told you, how easy it was for him to talk to you and that you were smiling and laughing as he told his story. “That sounds like an eventful day, much better than mine. Maybe I’ll get to meet your brothers one day”, you said wistfully. Before Kix could reply to that he heard voices from the other side of the tent. As he looked over he saw you rolling your eyes out of the corner of his eyes. “Where is she? Where is our daughter? I demand you bring us to her?” He saw Rex trying to calm the screaming man down, but the woman next to him then began to yell at the Captain. Luckily just a moment later General Skywalker intervened and much to Kix’s dismay lead the couple over to him. “Kix, the King and Queen say that their daughter was admitted to the medical tent. Have you by any chance seen the princess?” Kix shook his head. He was pretty sure he would have noticed if anyone like the two monarchs in front of him would have been anywhere near the tent. “There you are! (Y/N), we were so worried. What are you doing here? You should be with our own doctors, not this... clone”, the Queen exclaimed while, to Kix’s surprise, put both her hands on your cheeks. Though he didn’t hear your reply, since his attention was now captured by the King who had picked up his wife’s yelling. “What do you think you were doing with my daughter? Were you trying to kidnap her? You better hope for your own good that you didn’t touch her, or else-”, he began before being interrupted by both you and Anakin. “Dad!”, you yelled while Anakin told him not to speak to his men like that. Though neither the King nor the Queen paid any attention to either of you. Instead they both took one of your arms and basically lifted you off the bed. All you could to before they all but carried out the tent was to turn around to look at Kix and mouth a single word. “Sorry.” All Kix could do was stare after you, standing completely still and not registering anything around him until he suddenly felt Jesse’s hand on his shoulder. “Well done, vod. That’s the princess you were just flirting with.”

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A short while later you were sitting in an armchair in the one part of the palace that, by some miracle, was still mostly intact. The room was smaller than what you were used to, and the clothes you were wearing were a lot less elaborate than your usual dresses, and yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead it felt rather like you weren’t yourself at all, like you could do things you usually couldn’t. The thought brought an idea to your mind. You looked very different in this simple black dress, with no makeup and unstyled hair, if you were to leave the palace no one would stop you, they wouldn’t even recognize you. Without thinking further about your idea you jerked into action, packing the small dinner on the table next to you in a basket you had found earlier and making your way out of the room and through the halls. No one stopped you, no one even bothered to look at you until you arrived at your destination. “Who are you? What do you want?”, a clone with the number five tattooed on his forehead asked. Though his voice was similar to Kix’s, he sounded a lot less friendly. “I’m looking for a medic. His name is Kix. We met earlier today and I-” “What? You’re gonna yell at him some more?”, another clone, this one without visible tattoos asked. You shook your head and lifted the basket in your hands. “I’m bringing him dinner as a thank you for helping me. And an apology for my parent’s behaviour.” It seemed to dawn on the clones who you were once you mentioned your parents. “You’re the princess!”, the tattooed clone exclaimed, though the other elbowed him in the side a moment later. “Kix should be in the mess. That’s the third door to the right”, the other clone said, his voice a lot friendlier now, before the two of them let you pass onto the ship. You soon found your way to the mess, though only once you stepped inside did it occur to you that finding Kix amongst all the other clones might be a bit more difficult than anticipated. As you began to look around the room you realized that one after the other all the clones had stopped eating and were now looking at you. You felt heat rising to your cheeks. Maybe you should have thought this through instead of assuming Kix would be around, waiting for you. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of you looking around the room and every single men inside staring at you, one of the clones walked up to you. He obviously wasn’t Kix, but introduced himself as Jesse, a name you were at least familiar with. “You must be the princess. If you’re looking for Kix, he just left for the barracks. Down the corridor, then left. If you might still catch him before he hits the ‘fresher.” Relief flooded through your body. “Thank you”, you called over your shoulder as you headed out the door to finally find Kix. You saw him just as he was rounding the corner and called his name. Though you hadn’t expected him to stop dead in his track because as soon as you ran around the corner you ran right into him. Luckily Kix had quick reflexes and caught you before you could fall down. “You weren’t just running, were you? What part of ‘don’t put weight on your leg’ didn’t you understand?”, he sighed, though there was a grin on his lips. You shook your head as you tried your best to catch your breath. How dare he talk about your leg now instead of appreciating your grand gesture? “I know, I’m sorry”, you said, even though you weren’t really, not if running was your way of catching Kix. “And I’m sorry for earlier. My parents... they’re... they can be... I’m sorry. I’m nothing like them, I promise. And look, I even brought the dinner I promised you as proof.” Without hesitation you thrust the basket in Kix’s hands. He looked inside before turning back to you. “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to have dinner. Clearly there are a million reasons you should stay away from me.” You shook your head. How could he say that? Didn’t he notice how much you’ve grown to like him after spending just a few minutes with him and how that could easily turn into something more if he’d just agree to have dinner with you? Hadn’t he felt the sparks earlier? “Maybe I don’t want to stay away. Maybe I want to have dinner with you, no matter what anyone may say or think.” Kix simply handed you the basket, but before he could say anything else you tossed it to the side and stepped closer. “Tell me you don’t want to spend time with me and I’ll leave, but don’t blame it on other people. This isn’t about what my parents think, what your brothers may think, this is about you and me and the fact that I’ve never felt about anyone like I feel about you.” A loud sigh left Kix’s lips. He reached to take your hands in his and gently stroked along your knuckles. “You don’t even know me, mesh’la.” You spoke enough Mando’a for that little word to give you a bit of hope. “We can change that. We can take it slow, no pressure, no expectations. Just one question: Will you have dinner with me?” Kix looked deep into your eyes as his answer, one single word, left his lips.

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I might write two seperate part twos to this story, one in which Kix agrees to dinner and one in which he doesn’t, if that’s something you’d like to read.

As always, I’d love to hear some thoughts and feedback <3

#kix x reader #kix x you #kix x y/n #kix imagine

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tooweirdforyou · 4 years

Text

Straw Hats With A Shipmate Who Feels Useless

A/N : this was really sweet and sad to me when I thought about it so I wanted to write it. Hopefully y’all enjoy.

Summary : The Straw Hats react to their shipmate feeling useless and a burden to the crew.

You didn't understand why you were still on the ship.

The group had just left from Water 7 with a new recruit, Franky, Robin came back, Usopp had returned to join the crew once more and you all just managed to get past the marines.

Throughout the whole time on Water 7 and Ennies Lobby, the goal of retrieving Robin back from CP-9 from Lucci and the marines, you were completely of no help at all.

Literally. You couldn’t help Nami and Sanji with their separate battles with the CP-9 members, you couldn’t aid Chopper and Franky with their battles, Zoro and Sniper King with the cuffs and two CP-9 Zoan agents, and MUCH LESS, Luffy with Lucci.

You spent the whole time just struggling to get past the chaotic mess from Franky’s family, trying to find where Robin was, and let’s not even start on trying to even find your way through the maze of the building you were in.

When you found Zoro and Sniper King, you tried to aid them by attacking the Zoan agents to the best of your ability, but it didn’t take long for them to knock you out.

Then with Sanji who was completely soaped up from Khalifah and Nami currently fighting against her, you tried to help Sanji return to normal but only ended up just freaking out and growing frustrated that you weren’t able to do anything so you left him to find the others to help.

When the crew finally made it to the top, where Robin was free and Luffy still fighting with Lucci, you constantly needed to be protected by Zoro, Robin and Franky since you weren’t aware of your surroundings.

When the whole thing was finally over, getting back to Water 7, you just kept to yourself to deal with your injuries, refusing Chopper’s help with a simple smile.

“I’m fine, Chopper. Focus on the others and yourself. You worked hard.”

And then you would avoid them throughout the several days, waiting until Luffy finally convinced Franky to join them on their newly built ship, the Thousand Sunny.

Of course by then, the others got over the whole chaotic mess and were just relaxing. But the thought and memory kept eating at you and you couldn’t relax at all.

Not wanting to bother others, you only kept quiet most of the time and would offer small smiles to them so they wouldn’t worry.

So here you were.

Chopper was in the medical bay with Robin, Nami in the kitchen with Sanji and Luffy, Franky and Usopp on the main deck together, and you were sitting, leaning against the railing, continuously thinking about the events that had occurred.

Unable to stop the deep frown that forms upon your lips, you glance down to the floor of the ship, bringing your hands to your head and knees to your chest with your elbows resting upon them.

"You can stop that now."

Hearing a sudden voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you glance beside you, seeing Zoro with his arms crossed and eyes closed.

"Oh, Zoro.. I didn’t see you there."

Zoro opens an eye and stares at you, ignoring your comment. "You’ve been quiet ever since Ennies Lobby. If it’s about what happened, who cares. Whatever’s bothering you though, we’re here to listen. So don’t keep it to yourself and just tell us."

You purse your lips and turn back to the floorboards. "There’s nothing on my mind, Zoro. Sorry if it seems that way, I’m probably just feeling tired, so I-"

Zoro only stood up and made his way over, you watching him crouch down in front of you with a rather serious expression with narrowed eyes. “What is it?”

By then, the others were all outside on the deck, staring and listening in from where they were.

No one said a word to interrupt, just listening in since they too, noticed how quiet and different you’ve been acting.

You just bit your lip before looking up at him with a smile. “I’m fine, Zoro!”

You stand up and brush off your clothes before smiling at the others who were watching. “I’m okay, I’m just feeling tired lately is all. I’ll go get some sleep.”

Luffy stares blankly at you, the others not convinced either but they didn’t say anything as they watch you begin heading to the bedroom.

When you finally close the door, you lean against it silently before biting your lip and clenching your jaw.

You were silent for a moment, thoughts running through your mind.

‘Even the others are starting to notice huh?’

Unable to hold back the tears forming in your eyes, you silently let them fall as you clenched your fists and held your head down in shame and humiliation.

‘Why did Luffy invite me onto his ship? I’m not fit for a pirate life. I much less don’t deserve to be on the ship of the future Pirate King..’

You punch the ground hard, feeling your knuckles throbbing with pain and a bit of blood forming as you continued to punch the ground in frustration.

‘Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why me?!’

You continued to sit there and cry in silence, unable to stop the flowing tears as you bask in the misery you held.

Unknown to you, the members could hear clearly of your not so silent cries and anger with punching the ship. None of them said anything.

Deciding that it was enough, you knew what you had to do tomorrow.

When you woke up from your bed the next day, you were dehydrated and exhausted. You ended up crying yourself to sleep after crawling into bed.

So you got up, made sure your face was washed so it wasn’t so puffy and red. After you deemed yourself decent, you headed up to the kitchen where you found the crew eating.

They all turn to you in silence, a few offering smiles to which you return with your own small one and began heading to the fridge. Sanji was washing dishes, Zoro and Franky sitting on the couch whilst the others sat at the table.

It was quiet.

You open the fridge and grab a bottle of water, opening it up and taking a sip before exhaling softly.

You grip the bottle in your hand after you closed it tightly and then spun on your heel to face the crew, giving them your best smile.

“Hey! So..”

They all look to you, listening closely to see what you had to say.

“Yeah?” Nami asks with her sweet smile, patiently waiting. “What’s up?”

You saw how kind they were towards you, making you chew on your lower lip at their kind expressions.

It made you hesitate on your next words, but you knew you had to.

“Um.. the next time we go stop at an island..” you awkwardly shift your weight to the other foot as you cleared your throat, trying to recollect your thoughts.

“Can..can I maybe stay there? I can stay at the island, or maybe find a trade ship that docks there and ask if they can stop at another island or something!”

Silence overtook the crew.

They certainly weren’t expecting you to say that. They did expect you to insist that you were okay, or maybe talk to them about what happened yesterday.

They never would’ve thought that you would suggest for yourself to leave the crew.

“..No.”

Everyone turns to the owner of the voice, to see their captain with his head lowered and his hat sitting tightly on his head.

“Luffy?” You furrow your brows at his sudden rejection to your suggestion. “Why?”

“You’re asking me why? I already said no, I refuse to let you leave!” Luffy looks up as he shouts, eyes narrowed at you. The outburst startling the crew.

“Why not? I don’t belong here! I’m not fit to be a pirate, much less this one! I don’t understand why you want me here when I’m of no use!”

After having dealt with Usopp’s argument and leave of the crew in the beginning of Water 7, the crew definitely didn’t have the heart to handle another situation like that.

“What the hell are you talking about, [Name]?! I invited you into my crew because I liked you and the crew likes you, so of course you belong here!” Luffy argues, clenching his fists. He didn’t want another repeat of Usopp’s situation either.

“[Name]-Chan, lets calm down and talk this over.” Sanji reasoned, Nami nodding her head in agreement. “[Name], it’ll be okay, lets—“

Usopp couldn’t say anything, the memory of his own event flashing in his eyes and the regret running through his mind.

Chopper was too afraid to interject, tearing up at the thought of you leaving.

Robin frowns slightly, closing her eyes and waited to see what else would happen before stepping in.

Franky was the newest recruit and didn’t think it was his place to stop anything happening yet, but if it grew further, he’d step in.

Zoro was just silent, his eyes closed, but you could see how tense he was.

“Luffy, please! I’m telling you, I’m just useless here! I have no place on this ship. I’m not a cook, a navigator, an archaeologist, a sniper, a swordsman, a shipwright, a doctor and I’m not a muscian!.... I.. I don’t belong here, Luffy.. please.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you drop your arms to your side, clenching your fists tightly that your nails dug into your own skin to make it bleed.

The others were stunned, unable to say anything as Luffy was growing even more irritated and annoyed with you. “Shut up, [Name]. You’re pissing me off.” He bluntly stated, shocking the others.

He widens his glare at you as he stood up. “YOU’RE MY FRIEND! IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU DONT HAVE ANY SPECIAL POSITION HERE! YOU’RE ON THIS SHIP BECAUSE YOU’RE OUR FRIEND AND WE’RE YOURS, RIGHT?!”

Hearing his words made you gasp as you shut your lips and felt your tears falling faster at it, Luffy getting ready to lunge at you but Franky and Sanji held him back.

“SO STOP CRYING AND DON’T EVER THINK OF YOURSELF AS A BURDEN! I’LL SCREAM IT TO YOU AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS EVERYDAY UNTIL YOU FINALLY REALIZE IT! WE WILL NEVER MAKE YOU CRY TEARS OF SADNESS BECAUSE WE’RE YOUR FRIENDS! ANYONE WHO MAKES YOU SAD IS GONNA FEEL MY WRATH AND I’LL KILL THEM!”

You sobbed harder at his words, dropping to your knees as you brought your hands up to your face to cover it. The bottle long forgotten as the others just stare and Luffy finally calmed down, panting heavily.

They turn to you with small smiles.

“He’s right, [Name].” Nami says softly, Robin nodding along. “Yes. We’re always by your side. You are always our friend, and always welcomed here.”

Nami stood up and began making her way over to your side, crouching down beside you and wrapped an arm around your neck. She smiles brightly at the sight of you sobbing at their kindness.

Franky started tearing up, wiping his eyes. “HOW EMOTIONAL!”

Chopper and Usopp were also sniffling, trying their best to not cry but they couldn’t help it.

Snot already running down their nose as Chopper jumped down and lunges himself into you, clinging on, with his own loud sobs filling the room.

Sanji and Zoro only smiled at their captain’s effect and your figure, knowing that you finally learned how your crew and friends felt.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on top of your head, ruffling up your head a bit and you slowly glance up to see Zoro pressing his hand down on you, a small smirk present on his lips.

"No one is at fault. No one is useless on this ship. The captain invited you onto his ship because you are our friend, someone he cares about and would risk his life for. Everyone on this ship would risk their lives for each other, even if it meant death. You are now part of our crew so that means you too. So don't ever say those words again."

Listening and agreeing with the swordsman, they all offer you their signature smiles, your eyes widening more at them as you wipe your tears.

Seeing their contagious smiles, you couldn’t help but give your own genuine smile through your tears.

"Thank you.. everyone.”

Luffy, no longer feeling the anger from just moments prior, secures the hat on top of his head before grinning widely at you.

“Of course!”

You weren’t a burden. You weren’t useless. There was always a place for you here. You were part of their family, and they’d die for you.

A/N : This might seemed a little rushed or all over the place, so sorry ;-;

#one piece x reader #one piece #op x reader #tooweirdforyou #x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #luffy x reader #nami x reader #robin x reader #chopper x reader #usopp x reader #franky x reader #straw hats x reader #straw hats

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spacedikut · 4 years

Text

nurse reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: “Hi cutie! I hope you are doing well! I LOVE your writing! Would it be possible for me to request something about reader fainting/almost fainting with Spencer and him taking care of her? Thank you I love you❤️❤️❤️❤️” 1781 words

a/n: three things: i have never fainted before so im guessing here, i kinda hate this so if u hate it too pretend u don’t AND if you saw me already post this two times no u didn’t :)

masterlist

Spencer should’ve known something was wrong when you came in late, rushing into the briefing room with squinted eyes and a lack of bounce in your step. When, after Hotch told the team today was for paperwork meaning everyone was desk bound, you sighed in relief.

You love field work. You love cases. You love being out there, helping people. The last thing you want is a day of writing reports.

He should’ve known when you finally stood, taking a couple of seconds to do so, and you had to blink rapidly to clear your vision of black and white dots.

You stumbled straight into Spencer’s chest, where he stood waiting for you.

“Careful,” He mumbled, one hand holding your elbow and the other resting around your waist. There was a second where he was the only thing holding you up. In normal circumstances, you would’ve blushed and been stuck on the thought of his hands on you for the rest of the day.

This wasn’t a normal day.

You went to respond with something teasing, maybe a joke about him being your knight in shining armour and he’d tell you about the history of the saying, but the feeling of bile rising in your throat stopped you.

You prepared to slump over and throw up on the shoes of your crush. But it never comes.

The sounds around you abruptly dull, vision becoming fuzzy as your brain started feeling distinctly tingly.

Suddenly you were falling.

The world goes black.

+++

You wake up some time later, incredibly confused but comfortable.

The first thing you realise is you’re in Hotch’s office on his couch. You know the smell of his office, you know the smell of Hotch, and it’s one of comfort.

But it’s Spencer sitting next to you. You know the smell of Spencer, too.

When you open your eyes, your suspicions are confirmed – Spencer is sitting directly in front of your face on the floor, cross-legged and speeding through a book. He hears you shift and looks up, eyes wide and brows tensing.

“You scared the hell out of me.” Is the first thing he says.

You huff a laugh, gratefully accepting the water he offers. You gulp it down at an awkward angle, given that you’re lying down and refuse to get up. “What happened?”

“You fainted. You know, fainting occurs when the blood pressure gets too low and the heart is not pumping a normal supply of oxygen to the brain. The medical term for fainting, or passing out, is-“

“Syncope. I know.” You grimace. You lift a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache now forming as well.

Spencer’s brows stay furrowed, deep frown on his face as he looks at you with sympathetic eyes, “Does this happen often?”

He keeps his voice low, rumbling through his chest and sounding very nice in your ears. “Not that often. Just.. sometimes, when I forget to eat or drink for a while. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” He lifts a hand, placing it against your forehead with a special tenderness that makes your heart ache. You watch him the entire time, watching the cogs turning in his head as he assess you. “But my theory was correct. When was the last time you ate?”

You avoid eye contact.

He sighs.

“Y/N…”

You pout. Maybe, if you look cute enough, he won’t lecture you.

He doesn’t get the chance (although all his brain is really saying is you cute you cute you cute), because Penelope gingerly pushes the office door open, bringing in a strong stream of light (you only now notice how dim the room is), holding a bag full of who-knows-what that she hands to Spencer.

“Here,” She says, then looks at you, “How you feeling, sweetness?”

“I’ll survive.” You smile, small and weak.

She nods with a pitiful “Good” and quietly shuts the door behind her.

You go to ask what presents Penelope has brought, but Spencer sticks a hand in the bag, ruffling around for a second, before bringing out a pack of sugar-drowned sweets you know are from the vending machine.

He opens the pack for you and grabs one, dangling it above your open mouth.

“For your low blood sugar.”

It’s one of those rainbow strands, covered entirely in sugar from top to bottom. It sizzles on your tongue, a sourness that makes your jaw flinch, but you happily accept a second from Spencer.

Your body feels exhausted, but your arms are still fully mobile. Spencer doesn’t need to feed you.

You’re sure he knows this. (He does)

You won’t say anything, though. This is way too sweet and kind.

(Spencer’s enjoying it too)

The whole pack is gone in minutes. He sneaks a few, as expected, because Spencer is a child with a sugar addiction at heart.

“What now?” You sigh.

“How do you feel?”

He looks at you so tenderly you feel like the most important person on the planet. The way he’s gazing at you, all concerned and sympathetic, makes you want to kiss him. Right on the lips. And the rest of his face, too.

He interrupts before you even open your mouth, “Don’t answer that. Well, answer it, but I’m disregarding anything you say because you’re spending the rest of the day in here where I can look after you.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Oh? On who’s orders?”

“Mine. I am a Doctor, after all,”

“I can’t stay here all day, Spence. It was just a little faint-“

“A little faint?! Y/N, although syncope is a common problem, if you go on about your day like nothing is wrong you could faint again and get hurt. Like, badly hurt.” He pauses, “And I can’t let that happen. So I’m going to take care of you and watch over you to ensure nothing happens.”

“That’s sweet, Spence, really, but-“

“No buts. I’m your Doctor.”

“You’re not a medical Doctor!”

“Then I’m your nurse.”

You smirk. He instantly regrets saying that.

“You’re my nurse?” You ask.

“I take it back. I’m your doctor.”

“If you really want to make me feel better, I’m pretty sure I have an old sexy nurse costume if you wanna wear it.”

“No. I do not want to wear that. Thank you.”

You pout again.

“Just relax, Y/N. At least for a little while.”

You concede, deciding some rest won’t hurt, nodding and shuffling your body to settle back into the couch. You close your eyes and Spencer goes back to his book – you’re a little surprised he’s staying with you, but then you assume he’ll stay until you fall asleep and come back to check on you later.

Some time passes where sleep evades you.

“Will you read to me, Spence?” You open one eye and look at him, where he’s biting his lip as his eyes furiously scan the pages.

His head snaps up, caught off guard, “Huh?”

“Will you read to me? I can’t relax.”

“Of-of course.” He looks back at the book in his lap, “The book I’m reading is in Russian, though.”

You hum, “That’s okay. I just like your voice.”

You don’t see it, but he blushes profusely, smothering a wide grin that he knows would make him look like a lovesick puppy.

Right before you fall asleep, you mumble something. If Spencer wasn’t sat so close, he would’ve missed it.

He’s glad he didn’t.

“You’re adorable.”

For the first time in his life, Spencer wants to squeal.

+++

Turns out you sleep the entire work day away. You were more exhausted and drained than you let on – the amount of case files everyone had to work through made you feel tremendously guilty when you imagined Hotch and JJ spending yet another late night at the office, significant others and kids eagerly waiting for them at home, so you took on way more work than you could handle, exerting yourself by staying up late, skipping meals - all things you’d kill your team for doing.

And you paid for it by fainting bright and early on a Friday morning.

Spencer watches you, gripping his satchel that sits across his body, as you slowly gather your belongings together. You’ve only just woken up, eyes bleary and movements sluggish.

He gathers all his courage and says, “I think I should take you home.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

He curses internally. He was hoping, in your disoriented state, you’d comply and definitely not question him.

Please don’t make him tell you he loves and cares for you so much and the idea of you going home alone after all this makes him anxious and he refuses to let you repeat what you’ve been doing to yourself.

He clears his throat, “Well, most of the time fainting is harmless, but a small percentage of people faint due to serious medical conditions, such as an irregular heartbeat. I’m just. I think it’d be safer if I stayed with you.”

You look at him, really look at him, and he tries to hide how he bites his lip and how his eyes flicker away for a moment.

He’s hiding something.

You turn your body towards him, suspicion clear on your face. Spencer swallows. You’ve got that look – brows raised, eyes narrowed and pursed lips.

He likes your lips. His eyes linger there.

You notice, of course you do, and you decide to take a leap.

“Alright. If you consider wearing the nurse outfit I’ll let you come home with me.”

Spencer guffaws.

“And,” You hold a finger up, “We can stop at your favourite restaurant on the way back and spend the night relaxing together.”

Spencer hehs, “Kinda sounds like a date to me.”

“Do you want it to be?”

Spencer nods without thinking. Of course he wants to date you. Then he blushes and tries to backtrack, “I mean-“

“I’d like it to be a date.” You smile. “It can be a date, if you want,”

Your confidence begins to waiver when he takes a couple seconds to respond. But Spencer can’t resist the grin that takes over, the elation he feels when he sees you’ve taken initiative and it’s quite possible you want him the same way he wants you.

He can’t help but ask, “This isn’t the fainting talking, right?”

You roll your eyes and move towards him, picking up his hand and interlocking your fingers.

“Trust me when I say,” You promise, making sure you look him directly in the eyes, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

When you look at him like that, Spencer thinks he might end up in that nurse outfit you mentioned.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #mine #if u take anything from this fic #please let it be spencer in a nurse outfit

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tkstrrand · 3 years

Text

✨ mini tarlos fic ✨

Ao3 / 1.2k / Tarlos

So this was written for the flash fic challenge on one of the amazing tarlos discord servers, thank you to @djdangerlove who arranged this💗

20 minutes to write and the prompt was: "I let you down" + the word "Savor"

Title: Stay close to people who feel like sunshine.

Summary: TK attends a call which brings back feelings and memories he had buried deep. After, Carlos and Tommy provide TK with some words of advice and comfort.

There had been a party occurring and the crew had been called out as a boy had collapsed and no one knew why. As they weaved through the crowd and heard the mummers an idea of what had happened, TK gripped the medical bag next to him harder, his knuckles growing white. When they reached the boy two of his friends were sitting next to him, shaking his unmoving body.

One of the boys looked up at the EMT crew, his eyes shining with tears, “He-he took something, I don’t know what,” TK felt the cold realisation run through his body. He stopped in his tracks, the bag in his hand dropping to the ground with a thud.

“You don’t know what he took?” He heard Tommy ask, kneeling down to check the boys pulse.

The kid shook his head, running his hands through his hair, “Some pills I think? Molly, Oxy I don’t know?” He stuttered, stumbling back from his friend.

TK kelt next to the young boy, he must have been around 16 maybe 17, practically a child. TK could see Tommy and Nancy saying something to him, their lips moving and their faces screwed up in worry, but TK could hear nothing.

The only thing he could hear was the intense beating of his heart and the ringing in his ears. TK’s hands were frozen in front of him as he just stared at the pale face of the boy, he should do something, he needed to help. He wanted to help, wanted to move his hands but he couldn’t, his breathing caught in his throat and TK just watched as his crew mates worked to save his life.

TK felt a presence next to him, hands reaching out to help his captain.

Carlos.

The three of them worked and after chest compressions and Narcan the kid surged forward, coughing and gagging, Tommy turned him onto his side and the kid began to breathe again. He was alive, TK could hear as people around started to calp but TK still didn’t move, his breathing still quick and harsh in his chest. Tommy and Nancy spoke to the boy, moving him onto the gruny they had wheeled in with them. TK managed to move his fingers, then his hand and eventually he was able to stand up, his legs feeling weak and unsteady. Tommy and Nancy wheeled the boy out of the room and TK watched as Carlos picked up the medical bag by TK’s feet, his hand coming to rest on his lower back, TK savoured the comforting touch but it did little to subside the guilt welling in his chest, “Come on, lets go,” Carlos whispered leading TK out of the room.

TK sat on the curb, his hands linked together, his elbows resting on his knees. TK played with his fingers, looking down at the tarmac “You okay?” Tommy said, coming to sit next to him.

TK stared ahead, his fingers fidgeting harder, “I froze,” He whispered, “The kid was lying there dying and I just...froze,” TK continued, his voice getting caught in his throat like the words didn’t want to leave, like if he didn’t say them they might not be true. He looked over at his captain, her image growing blurry as tears pricked the corner of his eyes, “I let you down,” He croaked.

Tommy cocked her head to the side, “No you didn’t TK,” She comforted.

“Carlos had to step in I-” TK just shook his head, the tears rolling down his cheek, “I wanted this job so bad and I screwed it up,” he said, a sad laugh escaping his lips

“Do you remember my first day?” Tommy asked. TK gave a small nod, “When I was at the roller derby, when I was looking down at that girl…” TK looked back over at his captain as he stopped talking, her eyes seemingly focusing on a spot in the distances, “I froze,” She admitted, TK felt his eyes growing wider “It doesn’t mean you're a bad paramedic if you freeze, it means you’re human,” She smiled, reaching out to give his knee a small squeeze.

TK took in a large breath, noticing Carlos coming over to the pair. Tommy gave a final squeeze before standing up, Calros coming to sit down next to TK, “Hey,” He softly said.

“Hey,” TK smiled, “Thank you, for stepping in,” TK sighed, “You shouldn’t of had to do that,”

“Tommy and Nancy had it handled,” Carlos said, reaching out to entwine his fingers with TK’s “It’s okay Ty,” Carlos soothed.

“I just-” TK bit his lip, “I just saw that kid and all I could think about was...” He trailed off, looking over at Carlos, his face showing he understood what TK was going to say. All he could think about was New York, all he could think about was himself lying lifeless on the floor.

Carlos leaned forward, placing a kiss on TK’s forehead, his own forehead coming to rest on it, “It’s alright,” He whispered. Carlos moved his head back, taking his hand from TK’s and wrapping it around TK’s shoulder, pulling him closer. TK felt the tension start to drain from his body as he rested against Carlos' side. “You did good TK,” Carlos said into TK’s hair.

“I didn’t do anything,” TK muttered against Carlos' shoulder, “You, Tommy and Nancy saved him,” TK said.

TK felt Carlos take in a deep breath, “You’re not the only person who has froze at a scene Ty,” TK looked up at Carlos, still not moving from his side, “Yeah we’re first responders but we’re also people, and sometimes people struggle,” TK knew it made sense, he never judged anyone who had froze at a scene, after all their jobs were far from easy. But TK didn’t freeze, TK ran towards danger with a smile on his face yet today when someone had needed him...

“I got this job to help people,” TK argued, his brows pulled together.

“You do TK,” Carlos said, “I have watched you saved life after life and deal with impossible circumstances,” TK turned his head so he was resting it on Carlos shoulder again, “You’re a great paramedic TK, please don’t ever forget that,” Carlos whispered, placing a kiss on the top of TK’s head.

TK watched as Tommy and Nancy closed the back of the ambulance door, “I should get going, shifts not over,” TK sighed, reluctantly pulling his head from Carlos' shoulder. TK gave a pout as Carlos unwrapped his arm from around TK, the pair of them standing up.

Carlos reached out, wrapping his arms around TK’s shoulder, “Alright, I’ll see you tonight?” He asked.

TK smiled, nodding, “Of course,” TK moved forward, placing a kiss against Carlos lips, “I love you,” He soothed.

Carlos smiled back, placing a kiss on TK’s cheek, watching as the man's smile grew, “I love you too Ty,” Carlos breathed, pulling his arms back.

TK gave Carlos’s hand a quick squeeze before he jogged back to the truck, jumping in the front of the vehicle next to Nancy who was at the wheel.

“You ready?” Nancy asked.

TK looked out the passenger window, watching as Carlos gave him a small wave, a soft smile on his face. TK smiled as he spoke, “Yeah I’m ready,” He breathed, savouring the sight of the man he loved as they pulled out of the lot.

#911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #tarlos #tarlos fic #tuserjamie #usersneetches #ashleykru

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

Text

I’ll Take Care of You, part two

a Tyler Seguin fic

a/n: this one’s from Peyton’s perspective. back in the fall when I first started writing fics again, I wrote part one in first person, which I don’t really do anymore, but I’m keeping that consistent for this one. read part one here first if you haven’t already.

tw: fainting, mention of miscarriage/loss of pregnancy/infertility/periods

“Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for this to occur with first pregnancies. It happens more often than you might think. It certainly doesn’t mean you won’t ever be able to have a baby. My rule of thumb is to let couples try to get pregnant again naturally for one year without any intervention. Then, if you’re still having difficulties, you can come back in and we can talk about other options.”

It had been eleven months since my doctor had spoken those words to Tyler and me following the miscarriage that had nearly broken us both.

Those eleven months had seen us try again and again each month with no success. I tracked my body temperature and ovulation cycle each and every day before even leaving bed. I’d completely removed alcohol and caffeine from my diet and monitored everything I put into my body, controlling every single factor I could possibly control.

And yet, on the thirteenth day — the unluckiest of days for multiple reasons — of each month, like clockwork, my period arrived. If Tyler was at home when it happened, I simply left the bathroom with a sorrowful shake of my head, curling into his waiting arms as he comforted me silently, holding me close, disappointment weighing heavily on us both. If he was on the road, I texted him only a “🔴” symbol, indicating that my monthly visitor had shown up unwelcome yet again. He replied each time with an, ”I’m sorry, sweetheart,” though he had nothing at all to apologize for.

My patience and determination, along with Tyler’s, were wearing thin. It was feeling more and more impossible to keep the faith — more and more unlikely that this would happen on its own.

I had all but given up hope.

But then...

The eleventh month arrived, and the thirteenth day of it came and went with no sign of my cycle. And then the fourteenth day. And then the fifteenth.

And with that, the smallest sliver of hope glimmered from out of the darkness in the depths of my heart.

But I wouldn’t allow myself to get too excited. With Tyler on a road trip to the East Coast, I barely slept those three nights, tossing and turning and wondering if I should take one of the numerous tests stuffed in the bathroom cabinet.

On the sixteenth, after Tyler had already left for morning skate, I decided it was time. Though I knew I couldn’t do it alone, I also couldn’t stomach the thought of waiting for Ty to return — let alone the thought of seeing his disappointment in the event of yet another negative test.

Thankfully, though, the sixteenth was a Friday — the day that Fanny, Klinger’s fiancée, and I had long ago set aside for morning yoga in my home gym. Fanny, now six months pregnant herself with her and John’s first baby, would arrive at 10 a.m., and I decided that that was as good a time as any to find out what was next for Ty and me — we would either finally start the family we’d always wanted, or it would be time for a different approach.

After greeting one another and stretching over small talk, Fanny carefully broached the topic that I had brought to her, heartbroken, so many times in the past year.

“So how have you been feeling?” she inquired gently from the mat next to mine, bending to the side for a new pose. “Are you on your cycle?”

From where I stood with my arms extended straight out, my face turned away from hers, I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and pondered what to say next.

“Well,” I began before clearing my throat, “That’s, um... I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

You pivoted to face Fanny, her pretty eyes now wide as saucers. Slowly, she stood up straight.

“Stop it,” Fanny whispered incredulously, joy etched in her expression.

I shrugged a bit. “I’m late,” I admitted softly. “But only by three days. And I haven’t taken a test-“

“Peyton!” Fanny warned through her giggles, hands finding her hips. “You have to!”

I smiled, appreciating my dear friend’s excitement for me while still feeling the familiar tightness of anxiety in my gut.

“I will,” I promised. “I seriously told myself I was gonna wait to do it while you were here. I couldn’t do it alone and I... if I’m not... well, I just can’t bear to see Ty’s reaction again…”

Fanny nodded solemnly. “Oh, sweetie. I understand,” she assured. “Maybe after we finish up? Or not. I mean, we can do it whenever you feel ready.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling overheated and attributing it to my frayed nerves.

“God, is it hot in here?” I asked, unzipping my lightweight jacket and throwing it aside, still fanning myself though I now wore only a sports bra and athletic shorts.

Fanny frowned, looking at my reflection in the mirrored wall in front of us. “No, I feel fine,” she said.

I tied my ponytail into a high bun to get the hair off my neck, noting a faint ringing in my ears as I placed my feet in position on the mat once more.

As I reached down for my toes, the ringing grew louder, and I suddenly saw stars in my vision.

With trembling hands, I wiped the sweat from my now-dripping brow and stood straight up, but apparently too quickly, as the room around me quickly fell from focus, darkness taking its place.

“Fan... I-I don’t feel good...”

Alarmed at the weakness of my voice, Fanny turned to face me and gasped.

“Babe, oh my god!” she exclaimed — the last thing I heard before everything faded to black.

_____

The next thing I heard as I came to was my husband’s voice, which sounded distant and faint. I moaned, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights above me as I realized that I was lying on my back on the floor, with Tyler’s face inches above mine. I opened my eyes slowly and heard him draw a deep breath, announcing, “She’s awake.”

I felt him cup my cheek tenderly as I offered a weak smile.

“Hi,” he breathed, relief heavy in his tone. “Hi, sweet girl. You scared us pretty good.”

“What happened?” I asked, confused by the hoarseness of my own voice. I moved to prop myself up on my elbows, but Tyler gently pushed my shoulders flat once more.

“Shh, shh, hey, don’t get up,” he instructed. “You passed out while you and Fanny were working out. Do you remember that?”

With a furrowed brow, I nodded. I saw Fanny standing behind Tyler, covering her lips with her fingers as she stared at me nervously.

“Oh god, Fan, I’m so sorry,” I murmured, still feeling weak and shaky.

Fanny shook her head and took a couple of steps forward, standing over Tyler’s shoulder. “Babe, no, don’t apologize,” she insisted. “I was just worried about you. Tyler came in the door just a minute after it happened but I had already called 911. I just didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry.”

I nodded, my eyes fluttering closed once more. “That’s okay,” I said softly.

Just then, there was a knock at the door upstairs, and Fanny hurried up the steps to answer it. I rolled my head to look at Tyler, who stared down at me with deep concern.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” he promised, pushing some hair from my still-damp forehead. “We’re gonna get you checked out and see what’s going on, okay?”

I nodded as I heard footsteps coming back down the stairs, and two paramedics followed Fanny to where I lay, still on my yoga mat.

“Hey there,” one of them smiled. “I’m Maria, and this is my partner, Chris. You’re Peyton?”

I nodded as Maria knelt beside me, opposite Tyler, with Chris placing a medic kit on the floor next to him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Peyton,” Maria said kindly. “How are you feeling right now?”

I cleared my throat, attempting to blink the fog away.

“Not as bad as I did a few minutes ago,” I half-joked. “But I still feel shaky, and hot.”

Maria nodded, pressing the stethoscope to my chest.

“Can you tell me what you’ve had to eat and drink today?” she asked.

“Um... I had two cups of coffee, a yogurt... and some water during yoga,” I replied.

“Okay,” Maria said as Chris took my pulse, with Tyler holding tight to my other hand and watching their every move. “Any history of fainting before this?”

I shook my head. “No, never,” I said.

“Any blood sugar issues? Diabetes, hypoglycemia?”

“No, nothing.”

“Are you currently on your period?”

My cheeks warmed. This certainly wasn’t the way I had planned to tell Tyler of our latest development.

“Um, n-no,” I admitted sheepishly, glancing at him. I could see the wheels beginning to turn in his mind even as he watched the paramedics instead of me.

“Any chance you could be pregnant?” Maria asked gently as she folded her stethoscope into her bag and reached for a blood pressure cuff.

Shit.

“Uh… actually, yeah.”

Immediately, Tyler’s head snapped toward me.

“Wait, what? Really?” he inquired, joy exuding from his whole being.

I simply shrugged, beaming. “I’m late.”

A small, knowing smile crossed Maria’s face. She wrapped the cuff around my arm and began to squeeze the pump.

“Okay, well, that could be the reason,” Maria noted. “Sometimes when you’re early in a pregnancy, your body might not be getting all the extra rest and nutrients and hydration it needs. It happens sometimes, and often, it’s no big deal.”

I nodded, reaching for Tyler’s hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I said with a scrunched nose. “I just didn’t want to get my hopes up, let alone yours.”

Tyler brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

“It’s okay,” he told me with a shake of his head. “I get it.”

I smiled gratefully, and Maria removed the cuff from my arm.

“Your blood pressure is a little low, which doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “Again, this can happen. Just to be safe, I wanna take you to the hospital for an EKG and monitor you for a bit, and we’ll do a pregnancy test there too, okay?”

I nodded, looking to Tyler for reassurance.

“It’s okay,” he said, knowing exactly what I needed to hear. “I’ll be right there with you.”

_____

One ambulance ride later, with Tyler beside me and Fanny following behind in my car, I had arrived at the emergency department and was being poked and prodded and hooked up to a plethora of monitors. A cardiologist soon confirmed that everything was fine with my heart, and my pregnancy test was then the only result that hung in the balance.

I sat propped up on pillows in the hospital bed, Tyler standing at my side as we waited in silence.

Out of nowhere, tears formed in my eyes, and I tried to swipe at them without Tyler noticing — a futile attempt. When he heard my faint whimper, he stepped closer and gathered me into his arms, kissing the top of my head.

“Hey, hey,” he spoke softly. “What is it, baby?”

“I’m scared, Ty,” I whispered, head buried in his chest. “Whether it’s positive or negative. I’m just scared.”

“I know, babe,” he replied, slowly caressing my back. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared, too. You’ve been through hell.”

“We’ve been through hell,” I corrected, sniffling as I looked up at him. Tyler nodded and smoothed his thumb along my jaw.

“We just have to believe that everything is gonna work out this time,” he told me as he kissed my forehead. “Good things are coming, Peyt. I can feel it.”

After several more minutes, my nurse, a sweet woman named Beth who spoke with a thick Texas accent, entered the room holding my chart. I could actually hear my own heartbeat in my ears, this time not because I felt faint, but because I was overwhelmed with anticipation.

“Well, Miss Peyton…” Beth began with a smile. “Congratulations. You’re gonna be a mama.”

I let out a sob and covered my mouth with my hand immediately, and Tyler choked out a breathless laugh. His hands grasped my face as he kissed me firmly.

“You hear that? We’re having a baby,” he whispered, eyes glossy with tears. “God, I love you so much.”

I giggled excitedly. “I love you, too, baby daddy,” I replied, causing Tyler to chuckle, too.

As Beth looked on with a grin, she wrote a few things down on my chart, then said, “Congratulations, you two. I’ll give you some privacy. Peyton, honey, we’ll be back around to check on you in about half an hour, okay?”

I nodded, tears streaking my face. “Yes, yes, thank you,” I spoke. “Thank you so much.”

With a kind nod, she left the room, pulling the sliding glass door closed behind her.

Before the door was even shut, Tyler’s lips found mine once more, his fingers holding my cheeks reverently. Eventually, I pulled away for a breath.

“You were right,” I told him, nudging his nose with mine.

Still completely giddy, he asked with a smile, “What was I right about?”

I reached a hand up to work my fingers through his curls. “You told me good things are coming,” I reminded, voice quivering. “You were right.”

Tyler was overcome with emotion once again and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. For the longest time, we stayed that way, embracing with only the sounds of soft, happy cries filling the room.

_____

eight months later...

“Are you the most handsome little man in the whole wide world? Hmm? I think so,” Tyler spoke to the tiny baby he held in his arms. “I think you’re just the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.”

I smiled from my hospital bed, feeling more exhausted and more in love than I ever knew I was capable of.

“And it’s a good thing you look like your mommy,” Tyler added, smirking at me before kissing the baby’s forehead — our baby’s forehead. “Uncle Jamie is gonna say that too. Yes, he is. I might as well beat him to it, huh?”

I chuckled, patting the mattress beneath me and gesturing for Tyler to join me.

“Bring him back over here,” I pleaded. “I miss him already.”

Tyler hummed knowingly and rose from his chair, carefully cradling the baby in his arms.

“I know,” he said. “I miss him, too, and I’m literally holding him. How is that possible?”

I smiled. “Because having kids means your heart walks around outside of your body,” I spoke, kissing our boy’s chubby cheek as Tyler took his place on my bed. “That’s what my grandmother used to say.”

He nodded. “You’re damn right,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel it already. I never knew it was possible to feel this way, Peyt. As bad as we wanted a baby, as much as it hurt when we lost the first one...” Tyler choked up as he spoke of the loss we’d experienced now almost two years ago. After a pause, he continued. “I still just never thought it would feel this incredible.”

I curled my hands around his arm and kissed his bicep. “Me either,” I admitted airily. “I’ll never forget the pain we felt then. And that baby will always be our first. But this... this is the best day of my life.”

Tyler beamed, wrapping one arm around my waist while cradling the baby to his chest with his other.

“So, are we decided on this little man’s name?” Tyler asked as I touched the baby’s pouted lips, making us both giggled at his expression.

“I think so,” I confirmed, leaning my head against his shoulder. “Are you still thinking what I’m thinking?”

Tyler looked down at me with hooded eyes, full of adoration, and nodded. “If you’re sure,” he spoke.

I’d been sure for a few months now, since the first day that I allowed myself to browse a baby name book, still riddled with fear of the unknown, while also waiting expectantly and with hope for our new journey ahead. I didn’t get far, only to the B’s, when I found the perfect name... one that meant blessed.

As I peered down at the boy in my arms, no name seemed more fitting than that one I’d whispered into being long ago.

“I’m sure,” I replied confidently. I cradled the baby’s head in my hand and pressed my lips to his forehead. “Welcome to our world, Bennett Tyler Seguin,” I whispered, overjoyed and humbled to finally have the privilege of having a son to name not only for his daddy, but also for the precious, long-awaited gift he was to us.

“Our boy,” Tyler whispered reverently.

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cyhyr · 3 years

Text

Whumpmas In July: "I Can't"

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka; Mizuki/Umino Iruka

WC: ~4990

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Notes: Deception, Drugging, Prison Break, Dissociation, Rough Oral Sex, Conditioning, Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Character Death, Triggers, Hair-pulling, Violence, Kidnapping

A/N: This story follows a Non-Linear Narrative, for the most part.

A sequel to “Secret”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

The day Umino Iruka walked into the clinic seeking therapy was the day Rikona changed her plans to fit her new narrative. Sure, she’d been next and available to take patients, standing right at the check-in desk as he filled out his paperwork; and normally, there was a day or two in-between registration and the first session, just so the team of psychiatrists and therapists could best review the potential case and match the best team with the patient. But none of that mattered. She was going to take Umino Iruka, and as soon as he finished filing his intake forms, she took the thin folder right out of Aiko’s hands.

“Right this way, Umino-sensei.”

“I prefer to be addressed with my given name,” he said on the walk to her office.

“Of course, Iruka-sensei. I’m Rikona.”

It’s so simple to establish a baseline with Umino. He wants to tell someone about his story, he wants to get better, but he doesn’t have the words for it and he doesn't know how to get there. She gently prompts him along, learning his past and keeping him from dissociating—she finds out in the first session that good is not a word Iruka can hear in certain contexts. She discovers trauma hidden in every corner of his life, coloring every interaction he’s had since he was eleven. She hears about Naruto and how Iruka’s as good as adopted him, even if the village won’t let it be official; and about Kakashi, the partner who suggested Iruka seek out counseling, yet forgoes his own mental health.

Really, it’s not hard to understand him.

So they have a couple of sessions and it’s working well. She’s getting to know him, while at the same time getting him to trust her and tell her more about his story.

But after only a few sessions, he is captured and tortured and she has to make a hospital visit when he's inevitably brought home—by none other than Hatake Kakashi. And of course, Hatake doesn’t leave his side throughout the hospital stay except for required psychiatric consults. Umino comes out the other side of his captivity with minor injuries and almost no backslide on his mental health progress.

Rikona gives herself much of the credit for that. To Hatake, she initially gives a modicum of a nod; he’s certainly present.

Iruka trips for the third time in almost as many minutes, and puts a palm to his temple. “Rikona-sensei, is there somewhere I can sit down for a moment?”

She looks back at him, brows raised. “Another dizzy spell?”

He nods.

Rikona leads him to a bench and lets him sit, guiding his head to rest in his palms, his elbows braced on his thighs. She had said that they were going to go straight to the Hokage Tower, but the hospital never felt this far away before. It feels like he’s been walking for over an hour.

“How much longer to the Tower?” he asks.

“Not too much,” she says. “Ten minutes.”

That. That doesn't sound right. The hospital is only a fifteen minute walk from the Tower. Why have they been walking for so long?

He lifts his head and looks around, but the wooded park they’re in looks like any other in Konoha. “Rikona-sensei, why are we in a park?”

“You asked for a little time to make sure the medication I gave you is in full effect before speaking to Tsunade-sama,” Rikona answers quickly. “Do you not remember?”

The world is still spinning. He carefully shakes his head before putting his head back down. “Are these dizzy spells also a side-effect?”

“Unfortunately, yes. You may have to just power through them.”

Iruka groans. “Okay, let’s keep going, then.”

Rikona offers her hand to help him stand, and her elbow to keep him steady as they walk.

The trees go by.

The sounds of the village fade away.

And then they find out that the Sato event traumatized Hatake. And honestly? She kept her cool in the meeting, but that night when she’s home, she has herself a good laugh. The man went and got himself traumatized over someone who he’s been manipulating for months, if not years? She’s not heard of a successful Reverse Stockholm syndrome; it’s hilarious.

But she also harbors a deep-set anger because it was under Hatake’s watch that Umino went and took that mission—he’s not an active field agent, shouldn’t be in the field, it should have never happened. It was under Hatake’s watch that the Sato incident occurred.

And then Umino talks about moving. And Rikona knows. This is the time. He’s asking for her advice, blushing as he talks about someday asking Hatake to move in together. But Hatake’s influence has been nothing positive and she knows exactly who Umino should be seeing instead.

She knows because she’s been covering for his usual therapist for over seven months and she’s a professional. She knows how to recognize abusers, manipulators. She can form an emotional connection with a carrot if it needs therapy—she’s good.

So when Mizuki tells her about his old boyfriend, this wonderful man he misses so dearly, who has never once visited him in prison; Rikona resolves to be the one to help this man, her patient, receive closure at the least—or reunite long lost lovers at best.

She knows she’s making the right decision. She knows Mizuki is good for Iruka. She knows because when she told him about what happened to Umino, she could hear his heart break.

“That’s why I never let Iruka take missions without me, see? Because I knew things like this could happen, and I care about him—Rikona, I care so very much—I could never have forgiven myself if something like this had happened to him while we were together.”

And no one can fake that tone, those heart-wrenching sobs, the tears, oh gods the tears.

Together they make a plan. And she’s so happy to help him, so happy that she’s essential to his reunion with Umino. Mizuki says it himself; without her, the plan could never be implemented. She even lets him write the first letter, so Umino can hear his words straight from his own hand.

And on her way out of the prison that day, she grabs a few forms, and some extra envelopes, and if one happens to be a request for a conjugal visit, well… Mizuki’s been alone for so long. The least Umino can do is reconsider.

...

(She didn’t know what that first letter said until Iruka-sensei brought it to her office, feeling like he could dissociate at any moment and experiencing a moderate anxiety attack. When she read it, she felt a sting of doubt, like maybe Mizuki wasn’t how she’d diagnosed him. But then she remembers Hatake, and how Mizuki says he changes things to fit his stories; and she realizes that this note must have been tampered with before it reached Iruka-sensei.)

The prison break for one goes like this.

It starts seven months prior, with the head psychiatrist for the hospital getting swamped with paperwork and a sudden flood of new patients, and it’s only her, Rikona, and one other therapist working the clinic lately. Tomi-sensei asks—practically begs—Rikona to take her prison shift on Fridays, that they’ll shut down the clinic except for emergencies. It’s only until further notice, only until Tomi-sensei can hire another psychiatrist, or at least another therapist.

When Rikona gets to the prison, the guard is wary at first—she'd already been there that week—but after a quick explanation he waves her through. She's been treating inmates in the East Wing for months prior, so she knows her way through security. But Tomi-sensei treats inmates in the West Wing. Three inmates, specifically.

The first she sees for an hour and a half. The first half hour is talk therapy, the last hour she oversees his electroconvulsive therapy. The second receives a cocktail of anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, a tranquilizer, and extra medicine to help with the side-effects of all these. Then, Rikona sits with them and talks for an hour. After that, she breaks for lunch. Finally, the third inmate of the West Wing; who receives one large dose of a mood stabilizer, and two hours of therapy.

Two hours a week, for seven months. Sometimes she stays later if the story he’s telling is particularly riveting, and she thinks that his telling of the story will help him.

But at the end of the day, she signs off on all three patients, carefully writing Tomi-sensei’s name in place of her own. Tomi trusts her judgement, and her conscience is clear. All three patients are steadily improving, some at slower paces, but improvement nonetheless. Rikona bills the hours in her own name, though; Tomi can take the credit for their health, but she needs to pay her mortgage.

So it’s easy to check out one of the East Wing prisoners for electroconvulsive therapy that Monday when she heads in. And she’s been working in the prison for years, so security knows her, and the East Wing prisoners are minimum security risks anyway—Rikona, thin and small as she is, picks an old woman to lead to therapy. And if the room for electroconvulsive therapy is in the West Wing, well security knows that Rikona knows her way around there, too.

The old woman is feeble, slow, gentle. The prison system broke her years ago. The poor thing doesn��t need to be shocked into submission. That’s not why Rikona brought her along.

There’s a seal she knows—the only advanced bit of chakra use she ever learned, before she determined that the shinobi way wasn’t her way—which can render a person invisible for a short time. She knows that the loss of his ability to mold chakra is very hard on Mizuki, and so when she leads the old woman into his cell and gives him the premade seal, she returns the grin he gives her.

“It’s time,” she says.

“You have him?”

“He’s all yours, Mizuki. You just have to promise to be careful. Whatever’s been done, he’s—”

“Rikona-sensei, I could never hurt him.” She presses the tag to his chest and he disappears.

She closes the door to the cell, leaving the woman in there alone, and walks away.

Confidently, she strides through the halls of the prison. She waves to the security personnel she knows. And then she gets back to the woman’s cell, and pushes another tag onto it—one to keep the door locked for good. They won’t be realizing that she’s gone for hours, if not days. They only use the flap at the bottom of the door to push her meals inside, and the tag leaves that part alone, she makes sure of it.

She toes it, just a little, just to be sure. It sways.

Rikona walks out the front doors, Mizuki a silent, invisible presence behind her.

Does she feel bad for lying to her client?

Gods, yes.

But it’s for his own good.

Hatake is a terrible, manipulative elitist. He doesn’t deserve someone like Iruka-sensei.

They’re five minutes from her home, a wooden cabin she maintains deep in the forests outside of the village. It’s there that the medication takes full effect and Iruka-sensei collapses. She’s so much smaller than him, and he’s heavier than he looks, but she pulls him onto her back and drags his feet along the ground and up the stone steps and into the house.

She’s careful, laying him down on the rug in front of the fireplace. It’s warm, so she doesn’t feel the need to start a fire. He’ll stay unconscious for a few hours, just until after sunset. She puts a blanket within reach, just in case he wakes up before they get back.

And then she leaves to collect Mizuki.

Kakashi doesn’t know how to explain it.

But something’s wrong.

There’s an odd scent in the air.

He had been heading to Iruka’s house, but he sighs and turns around to head back to the Tower. He’s still not going to take that mission, but he needs to talk to Tsunade.

Rikona watches as Mizuki strokes Iruka’s face tenderly. She’s making dinner in the kitchen and they’re laying side-by-side on the rug in front of the fireplace, now lit and warming the cabin. Her heart swells to see them together again after all this time, and she hopes that Hatake hasn’t poisoned Iruka-sensei’s memories so much that he can’t remember the good times he had with Mizuki.

They look good together.

Iruka-sensei hasn’t woken up yet, but she checked his vitals when they came back and he’s coming back to himself. They had pulled his vest and weapons off of him and set them on the couch once they got back, so he could lay more comfortably. He should wake any minute.

“A bad feeling?”

“A bad scent.”

“Like an intruder?”

“I don’t know. Very likely.”

Tsunade steeples her fingers. “Track it. Do not engage. Report back.”

Kakashi nods and turns to leave.

“It could be Akatsuki,” she warns. “Be careful.”

Kakashi is gone as soon as she finishes her sentence.

This isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to be a part of this. This isn’t love.

Rikona can’t believe she was so thoroughly duped.

The pack at large doesn’t know the scent he’s trying to convey to them. All he can say to describe it is wrong and bad and that can describe any fucker who hits their partner or child, or any stall vendor who deliberately raises their prices for a certain kind of person, or—

“The ripe, rancid one?” Pakkun asks, growling.

And those are the words he’s been searching for, yes. The rest of the pack catches that same scent and readies themselves.

“That’s the one. What is it?”

“That’s the prisoner Iruka-Boss fought a while back, when the prison had that major breakout.”

Kakashi’s stomach flips and his spine chills.

Mizuki.

“You’re awake.”

Mizuki puts his hand over Iruka’s mouth to keep him from crying out, leans over and whispers in his ear, “You could never get away from me, don’t start trying now.” The tears glistening in the corners of his eyes shimmer in the firelight and he looks beautiful when he cries. Mizuki dips his head and kisses Iruka’s neck, relishing the whimper he receives.

He removes his hand, knowing he has Iruka’s obedience.

“You’re not real,” he mutters. “This isn’t real. It’s-It’s a side-effect. Of the m-medication.”

“Oh, baby, this isn’t a dream,” Mizuki lifts himself to hover over Iruka, pressing the length of his body along the tan one on the floor. “I’m here. I’m here to stay.” He shoves his knees in-between Iruka’s thighs and rolls his hips. “Hmm, missed this. Missed you. Did you miss me, too, baby?”

“Get off,” Iruka hisses.

Mizuki grins and presses his teeth to Iruka’s neck. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Kakashi sends half of the pack to find Iruka, and the rest follow Mizuki’s scent.

He goes to the prison; he needs to check himself. He needs Pakkun to be wrong.

The security personnel confirm that prisoner 834-769 is in his cell. Been there all morning. There’s no log of him being taken out. Kakashi doesn’t growl, but asks if someone can go down to the cell and give him visual confirmation.

“Chakra confirmation is sufficient when there’s no cause for alarm,” he’s told.

Chakra confirmation???

“The fucker has no ability to mold chakra! And there is cause for alarm,” he grits through his teeth. “My pack caught his scent outside. I need visual confirmation of his presence in his cell now.”

Security at least pretends to take him seriously. They send a team down to the West Wing and Kakashi considers following them.

And then a bone-chilling howl echoes outside, and Kakashi doesn’t care about visual confirmation. Because the howl is the one that says scent lost and it’s coming from Bull’s half of the pack, the half that’s supposed to find Iruka—

And if they lost his scent—

Kakashi bolts.

Rikona leaves them to reacquaint in the living room. She steps outside. The stew will be alright on its low heat, and the rice still has plenty of time left to steam.

The stars are nice. The moon is waning from full, and she pulls a throw blanket tighter around her shoulders. In the distance, she can hear wolves howling and smiles softly.

It’s such a nice night.

He can’t explain it. He doesn’t stop to try, to tell an ANBU patrol what he’s doing, or to find Gai or anyone else.

The look on the security guard’s face was enough. No one will believe him if he tells them that Mizuki has something to do with Iruka’s disappearance. Hell, no one will likely believe him if he tells them that Iruka’s missing. After the Sato incident—and his reaction afterwards; he can admit that he was being a little overprotective—no one will take him seriously.

Kakashi has to do this by instinct. He has the pack flanking him, leading him along the ripe, rancid scent. They understand without him explaining, thank the gods.

Iruka is pack. This knowledge is as an intrinsic part of him as his family name, as chidori, as his loyalty to Konoha. More than this, the deeper part of him recognizes Iruka as his and recognizes the reciprocal possession Iruka holds on his very being.

Whether he knows it or not, Iruka owns him.

Boss’s Boss, indeed.

Mizuki hears the door shut behind Rikona as she leaves. He puts his mouth over Iruka’s, and when his lips won’t part he pulls on Iruka’s hair knowing that it will force a gasp as well as remind Iruka whose he is. He pushes his tongue into Iruka’s mouth when it opens and rolls his hips faster. With his other hand—the one not busy with the hair—he reaches to his crotch and pulls down the front of his prison pants and frees his dick. He fights with Iruka’s pants, and then lowers those too and eventually grabs both of them together in his fist.

Iruka’s limp. That’s fine. He’s used to working with that.

Iruka winces into their kiss, muttering, “Stop.”

“None of that. You know better.”

Iruka turns away. “I said, stop.”

Mizuki lets go of his own dick and pinches Iruka’s, watching him wince and hold back tears and bite his bottom lip.

“You know I don’t like that word. You don’t get to tell me to stop.” He grabs them both and strokes. “There, isn’t that better?”

“No, please—I can’t—I don’t want—”

Mizuki pulls his hair harder, twists his fist in the strands, and Iruka relaxes and his eyes turn glassy and there he goes. Mizuki grins, bites at Iruka’s mouth, and says, “Beg me to touch you.”

The response comes like the last two and a half years never happened. “Touch me,” Iruka murmurs.

“Tell me you missed me.”

“Missed you, ‘Zuki.”

“Aww, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel good.”

Kakashi runs through the forest behind the hospital and another sinking feeling hits his belly.

Rikona-sensei was supposed to be in charge of Iruka’s care.

But if Iruka’s missing.

Where’s Rikona-sensei?

“Pakkun.”

“Boss.”

“You know Iruka’s therapist?”

“Yeah. She went this way, too.”

Mizuki took them both. Fuck.

“Want to suck my cock, baby?”

Iruka comes back, just for a moment, just long enough to get the n sound of his answer. Mizuki tugs his hair again—training Iruka to become his personal little slut at the pull of his hair was the most brilliant idea Mizuki had ever had; he pats his own back every day he remembers the time he spent on it. And, damn it took time. Iruka never liked having his hair pulled, so the pain and the sex and his never-ending desire to please Mizuki combined together to make a perfect storm. And it still took months, almost a year, of hair-pulling and ordering Iruka around to condition him into the perfect whore.

And now, thanks to Rikona, he’s got that back.

He pulls himself up to the couch and sits, slides his pants to his thighs, and guides Iruka into position over his cock. There’s still tears on his lashes, and that’s just fucking perfect.

Mizuki’s been using his hand for over a year, and Tsubaki’s cunt before that.

Nothing compares to Iruka’s throat.

“Oh, good boy,” he groans as Iruka slides down over him. It’s tight, hot, wet—perfect—he put so much work into training this slut to take him and blow him right and two years isn’t enough time for Iruka to forget it seems, because he gets to slurping and tonguing and bobbing his head like he never left Mizuki’s legs.

Rikona stops in the doorway, blinking.

Iruka-sensei has dissociated. Mizuki seems to be aware of this, yet isn’t trying to get him to come back. In fact, he’s using Iruka-sensei’s mouth as-as—

She turns and goes back outside, closing the door quietly behind her.

She looks up at the night sky and suddenly the stars don’t feel so relaxing.

“My sweet, good boy, sucking me soo good. Look at you. Right where you belong.”

He remembers what he’s heard about Hatake from Rikona. What a joke. “As if blowing someone else could ever change who owns you.”

Iruka whimpers. Gods that sound fucking drives him crazy.

“Who owns you, baby?”

Iruka pulls off of him, just enough. “You, Mizuki.”

“Fuck, missed this.” He pushes Iruka back down, hits the back of his throat and keeps going. He takes Iruka’s hair in both hands and moves his head for him; Iruka isn’t going fast enough to get him off. This way, though, “You’re mine, baby. So good. Mine, mine, mine—FUCK!”

He shoots down Iruka’s throat.

The first time they did this, Iruka had spat it out. Mizuki made sure he never did that again. He knows that Iruka throws up later, once he comes back to himself; but whatever. Right now, he’s swallowing down Mizuki’s come, his throat working his pulsing cock and it feels great. He pulls back near the end of his orgasm, and lets the last pulses of come splash on Iruka’s lips and chin, watching it drip down his neck.

The tears are falling freely, but Iruka will stay on his knees until Mizuki tells him to get up. Fucking beautiful.

Why would Mizuki take both of them?

It doesn’t make sense.

Iruka, obviously. Mizuki’s had it out for Iruka since they were twelve, if not younger.

But why Rikona-sensei? If nothing else, he should have killed her. They should have found a body.

They still haven’t picked up on Iruka’s scent. There’s a third scent, but it’s muddled and weird and Kakashi can’t place it.

“Boss.”

“Akino.”

“Smoke, up ahead.”

“That’s where they are.”

He knows it in his bones. In his soul. He’d bet his life on it.

… He’s also betting Iruka’s life on it. The pack is already at top speed, but for this last sprint they all push just a little more.

Rikona walks off the porch and down the path. She’s reviewing the last four months of therapy sessions with Iruka-sensei in her head, and the last seven months with Mizuki, wondering where she went wrong. She hugs her arms tight to her body and watches her feet.

Hatake-san is an elitist. A genius, gifted child who advanced through the ranks too quickly and thinks too highly of himself. He’s Friend-Killer Kakashi, known for leaving a teammate for dead, for putting his own fist through the girl who loved him for the sake of a mission. He’s manipulative, and known for reading porn in public, and tampers with his partner’s mail, and-and-and—

She’s reaching.

She knows she’s reaching.

Oh gods, what has she done.

Kakashi watches Rikona stop on the path and begin to shake. He slides out of the tree silently beside her, and says, “Yo, Rikona-sensei.”

She gasps, startled. “Hatake—”

“Where’s Iruka?”

She points to the cabin behind her. “Please, I didn’t know. He lied to me.”

“Hmm?”

“He told me you were bad for him. He told me that he missed Iruka-sensei. He cried when I told him about Sato.” Rikona bites her lip. “How did he fake that? Did he fake that?”

“I’ll deal with you later.”

“I’ll turn myself in.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kakashi says. He glares at her, exposing the sharingan for full threat. “If he’s hurt, you get hurt.”

“We should go to Water Country,” Mizuki sighs, slipping his dick back into Iruka’s mouth. “They’ve got good clubs out there. I could make a lot of coin selling the use of your throat.”

Iruka’s so far gone, so far down, he doesn’t even react.

“And with the ocean and all, your vomiting won’t be so off-putting each night.”

The door breaks open and a pack of mutts crash through the windows around him. Mizuki pulls out of Iruka’s mouth, reaches in Iruka’s weapon pouch beside him for a kunai. He may not have the ability to mold chakra anymore, but that doesn’t change how well a blade can slice through the delicate life beating in a person’s neck. Mizuki pulls Iruka to his lap and has him cover his body, pressing the kunai under his jaw.

“I wouldn’t,” he warns. Hatake stalks into view, coming around the couch. “I promise, I’ll kill him faster than you or your mutts can get to me.”

One hand on the kunai, the other around Iruka’s waist. He doesn’t even need to keep a hand in his hair now. Iruka’s his.

He put in the time.

He put in the effort.

He built Iruka.

He sneers at Hatake. “You and your mutts can leave.”

“Not without him.”

“Iruka? Tell Hatake to leave.”

“Please leave, Hatake-san.”

Oh, that was good. Like he was slapped, Hatake flinches; just barely, but Mizuki catches it. That was nice. Worth a reward.

“Good boy, baby,” Mizuki purrs. He bites Iruka’s shoulder, relishing the soft whimper.

He’s under. He’s so far under and Kakashi has to be careful or he won’t get Iruka back.

This wasn’t a warning Rikona gave him; that came from Tomi-sensei a few weeks back, when she heard about one of the dissociation episodes he’d experienced during the Sato incident. He can’t trust anything Rikona has ever told him now, but Tomi-sensei never had a hand in Iruka’s care and so is objective.

He motions for the pack to stand down.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Mizuki says. “Don’t leave. Just stay still.”

He takes the kunai away from Iruka’s neck and aims it at Kakashi.

He won’t hit him; Kakashi’s faster than anything he can throw. This is perfect. This is his chance.

He just has to be careful.

Iruka could still not come back if he’s not careful.

The bite of a blade against his neck is odd, but familiar. The slosh of come in his stomach is uncomfortable, but familiar. The taste of musk and come on his tongue is gross, but familiar.

Mizuki’s rumble against his back is nice and familiar.

Slipping into following Mizuki’s orders is simple. It’s easy.

The pain of his hair being pulled. The claustrophobic sensation of being boxed in as Mizuki hovers over him. Their bodies pressed together. His dick—pain—being stroked alongside Mizuki’s own length. It’s all familiar.

Falling is easy.

He can’t. He can’t handle being there anymore.

And then—

“Don’t move. Just stay still.”

The blade leaves his neck, and Iruka tracks it as Mizuki levels it at—

At—

Kakashi—

“Just sleep, dearest.”

“Please, Iruka, I wanna touch you please.”

“I like asking.”

“Please kiss me.”

“Hello, Love.”

“What do you need?”

“I will always come for you.”

“I will be wherever you want me to be.”

“Hello, Love.”

“Can I use the g-word tonight?”

“Hello, Love.”

And Iruka wakes up.

He reaches for the kunai out in front of him, disarms Mizuki and stands up out of his lap. He fights the vertigo, fights the chills chasing each other down his back and his arms.

He remembers the day he came home to Mizuki and Naruto, and how he put two kunai in him before kicking him out. He remembers the rage, seeing Naruto pull away from Mizuki like hot coals, remembers sending Naruto to hide in his own room because they had been in Naruto’s room; there was still a small blood stain on the floor of that apartment when he left, one he couldn’t clean up in time.

Mizuki can fuck with him all he’d like.

But he can’t fuck with Iruka’s family.

And maybe Mizuki couldn’t hit Kakashi with a kunai if he were point-blank. Maybe a thousand kunai couldn’t hit Kakashi if Mizuki were the one throwing them. It doesn’t matter.

Iruka’s been teaching Anatomy of a Kill and running disarming practicals for years. They can call him soft, and say his humanity is a weakness or a strength. He preaches the Will of Fire and he burns with it; he will protect that which is precious to him.

Naruto.

His own sanity.

Kakashi.

Whether or not it needs protecting, Iruka will be the shield.

He plunges the kunai into Mizuki’s chest, drags it through heart and liver, snapping ribs and muscle tissue as he goes, and settles the blade in Mizuki’s intestines. He stands over Mizuki as the life leaves his chest, gushing red and bloodying Iruka’s hands and clothes.

Mizuki’s eyes are dark with betrayal.

He whispers, “I will always own you.”

And then… and then he’s gone.

And Iruka breathes.

Gods.

I’m… I’m free.

#whumpmasinjuly #i can't #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kakairu #my writing

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willadisastercry · 3 years

Text

The part where they try not to freak out: ‘When the Dust Clears’ pt. 2

tw: minor mentions on gore. this is very tame and not graphic at all, mostly just Lance hurt/comfort and Pidge being a smart ass.

The onset of another quake spurs the three trapped paladins into action. Well...? Really only Pidge. But without much from the barren ruins to go off of, she’s finding it difficult to macgyver her way out of this one. The water level is rising and the longer Lance goes without medical care, the more anxious Shiro is getting. Everyone’s resolves are dwindling with the threat of another quake that can occur at any moment hanging over their heads. How the hell are they going to get out of this alive? Good question.

This update was kinda short but stay tuned for the wrap up of this fic. It gets very harrowing and I’m not nearly done hurting Lance ;)))

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Shiro took his arm off Lance once the only thing still shaking was him.

The quake came on so fast that there wasn’t time to do much in the way of preparation, not that there was much to do anyway. But Lance was the only one missing a helmet so Shiro settled for gruffly pulling his injured teammate down next to him, shoving his head in the crook of his arm, and covering the top of it with his very human hand in an effort to protect him from any falling debris.

But the rumbling stopped before it moved anything significant. And when he finally shifted to inspect the damage, the pebble sized bits that he’d saved them from fell off easily.

Lance let out a few timid coughs against the dust that was stirred up, not having the energy to roll onto his back and shield his nose from the irritating particulates with how horribly his head was hurting. But the act of coughing and what it angered hurt his scrambled brain worse than the actual head injury.

“I don’t know if that’s the last of it, but I think it’s dying down now,” Pidge noted as she began pulling herself up from where she’d scrambled for cover.

“How do we know if that’s the last of the big quakes and these are just aftershocks?” Shiro asked, his face pinched with worry he wasn’t even bothering to hid anymore.

“We don’t. But I think we have bigger issues for the time being....” her gaze was glued on the bit of water dribbling from underneath a stone in front of her.

“Mmmmh—ugh,” Lance groaned. Words were hard to summon. His mouth was so dry he thought he might asphyxiate on his own ragged breathing if he didn’t clear his throat several times before trying again.

“D’it stop for you guys?” he inquired sluggishly, his voice hoarse and trembling.

“Yes...” Shiro noted slowly, his mind working over too many things at once to compute what that statement might have meant for a moment.

“Did it not for you?”

“Nope,” Lance strained through a shudder, his body shaking like he was cold despite the regulation of his paladin armor. His heavily battered paladin armor.

“Everything’s spinning now actually... the tilt-a-whirl kind...”

Lance’s eyes hadn’t stayed open long even after the dust had cleared. His hands weren’t working right to brush the gunk out and he’d be dizzy either way so he didn’t fuss about it.

“Do you want to try sitting up, maybe that’ll help?”

But they had gotten so heavy. And now that Shiro was looking at him he noticed he could hardly even blink without effort.

“Nah, s’okay... gonna sleep for a bit—“

A rough hand on his shoulder had Lance jerking abruptly, fear twisting his stomach in knots similar to the one throbbing on the side of his head at the thought that another quake had started before Shiro cut through his panic with a serious ‘hey’.

His leader voice was back.

“I was phrasing it as a question out of sympathy. You’re still not allowed to sleep and it’s not a choice, it’s an order.”

“Such a... buzz kill sometimes... know that, right?”

“Yep, wouldn’t have it any other way if it meant you actually listen to me when I give suggestions.”

“This is not... a suggestion... s’bullying...”

“Come on,” Shiro huffed in exasperation as he worked his arm out from under Lance who grumbled at the loss when that meant his aching head was now completely horizontal.

He wasn’t even sure he was still on solid ground with how aggressively dizzy he became after that, the rock floor beneath him shifting like it was melting and he was falling. Except he was well aware that he wasn’t.

“Up you go... thanks Pidge.”

The vertigo only worsened when a strong hand was pushing at his back while another tinier one tugged at his limp arm, their combined effort guiding his pliant body into a sitting position.

“I can handle Lance while you survey the area for anything that might be useful, the water’s rising fast so we don’t have a lot of time.”

Shiro’s hand remained firm on his shoulder when it was apparent he still didn’t have the ability to keep himself even semi upright without assistance.

“Useful how?”

“I don’t know, maybe something that you can shove under the rock to prop it up and use as a lever... something strong...”

There’s a groan of rubble crashing in the distance, displaced from the pressure of the tons of water pouring on top of it.

“Why don’t you get going, yeah?”

Shiro suggested when he saw how Pidge blanched and Lance winced at the sound, the minute vibrations that reached them jarring his brain once more.

“We’ll be right here when you get back,” he reminded with a tight smile.

“You’re seriously not nearly as hilarious as you perceive yourself to be.”

“I know.”

The landscape wasn’t littered with much in the way of useful materials. Mostly giant slabs of uneven stone from the pavilion that made traversing the debris field really annoying with only one hand for balance, especially when additionally trudging through rising water that made everything slippery.

“This is pointless,” she grumbled.

There was nothing useful. Aside from bits of rock that she could maybe jam on either side of Shiro’s arm to alleviate enough pressure for him to slide out once the water rose enough, but there wasn’t any point in lugging those back with her when there was plenty where the boys were.

A particularly slick stone had her heart rate elevating when she narrowly avoided taking a header. It only served to enervate her further.

“Pointless and treacherous...”

But as Pidge made her way closer towards the ruins from the building that got swallowed down with them, the crushed squabble of rubble started to pique her interest. There were actual items squished under large swathes of sediment instead of just more sediment.

The blue light of her suit glinted off of any bits of metal she passed by, though for a while it was mostly rebarb rods and plumbing pipes sticking up between rocks. But the more she spotted the more they got Pidge’s mind working.

It would need to be something smaller. Something that was already bent and not sharp. Something she could free with a few tugs.

She scanned the rubble with a renewed passion once she knew what she was looking for, the water lapping against her ankles as she made her way around the destroyed landscape an unpleasant reminder of what was at stake if she didn’t hurry.

The same couldn’t be said for Shiro and Lance who were sitting on a ticking time bomb. Well? More like in.

“Hey Sh’ro...” Lance whispered, his voice timid.

The wait for Pidge grew bleaker as the time droned on. Not that Lance could even really gauge how much had passed or focus on their impending deaths for long. The several inches of water beneath them was a good marker though.

“Yeah, bud? What’s up?”

They hadn’t done much talking. Lance had made it clear that even Shiro’s hushed voice made his head spin and so he only spoke when checking in every now and then.

“I didn’t...”

He watched carefully as Lance looked down at the water in his lap and shuddered. His breath catches in his throat before he can get his question out and Shiro’s blood goes cold despite the temperature regulators in his suit being in perfect order.

“What’s that?”

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage and averts his gaze.

“Know m’out of it... but I didn’t, right?”

Shiro begins to run through every field medicine fact he knows regarding brain injuries before he follows Lance’s eyes back down to the water lapping against his crossed legs and the several splinters in the lower half of his armor.

He stowed that away for later. That the dents ripped into Lance’s suit meant it was comprised. It meant that so was Pidge’s and so was his and their helmets wouldn’t do them any good because water was bound to get in anyway.

Just like water was getting into Lance’s now...

“Oh, shit you mean—no Lance, no you didn’t. That wasn’t you, it’s just some water from the pipes that broke.”

The sigh he let’s out is a jagged one but he seems to visibly relax at the confirmation.

“Kay... s’good. Was worried for a sec...”

Shiro has to close his eyes and breathe deeply for a second to keep from laughing. Or crying. He��s not sure which but either one would have been hysterical and he was certain that he didn’t want to indulge in that.

The literal only thing he could do was keep Lance calm and he was not about to comprise it by losing his.

Lance hums idly and it eases Shiro’s frayed nerves. He has to be righted briefly when he relaxes his arms and it sends him lurching to the side, but once he remembers himself and locks his elbows again Shiro offers him a terse smile of encouragement.

“Don’t have’t do that, y’know...” Lance grumbles in response.

“Do what? Keep you awake or keep you from splitting your chin open? Because you already know what my answer to both of those questions will be.”

Lance steels himself to turn his head and face Shiro. His eyes are bleary and unfocused when he does. It takes an extra minute for him to process what he’d just heard and another to put together his response.

Shiro’s frown somehow deepens at the realization that he’s getting worse and wonders if he’s already forgotten what they were talking about, maybe even the question he wanted to ask.

“I’m happy to remind you though,” Shiro decides on following up with, his tone gentle as he forces his wrinkled forehead to soften.

Lance hums again but this time it’s contemplative and his brows knit together in concentration.

“Pretend you’re not scared,” he drawls slowly, taking his time enunciating each word but still sounding slightly drunk anyway.

Shiro catches himself before he smiles, before he lies to Lance again.

Lance who is concussed and losing blood from several gashes on his face and head that are more likely to scar to longer he goes without a pod, but coherent enough to know that Shiro is bullshitting him and subtlety tell him to screw off.

“Alright,” he says instead. And this time Shiro allows himself to laugh.

The half of Lance’s face covered in cuts is undoubtedly numb and swelling from the bruises sure to be forming beneath all the blood, but he tries to smile anyway.

Shiro mucks his hair with a light hand far away from any patches of red and they fall into a comfortable silence as they listen for Pidge. It’s what feels like a mini eternity and another three inches closer to drowning before they finally hear her approaching.

“Pigeooooon,” Lance calls out.

“Present,” she mumbles exasperatedly.

Her hair is matted to her forehead with sweat and there’s a skinny pipe tucked under her trembling arm. Shiro would’ve told her to rest for a minute if she wasn’t already clutching a jut of upturned stone for dear life.

“What is that for? You’d need something a bit wider for a wedge...”

“Maybe I wasn’t shooting for a wedge.”

“Pidge this is serious.”

“I’m well aware, you don’t have to remind me—he’s going down.”

“Shit Lance,” Shiro gruffs as he yanks him up from where he was seconds away from falling face first into water.

“Sorry. M’awake.”

“Sure you are,” Pidge agrees sardonically as she kneels beside him and grabs his chin to look him over. His pupils are still dilated and his wounds are still dribbling spurts of bright red but the flow isn’t as heavy as before. At least blood loss won’t get him first.

“Hey, Pidge...”

“Hi, lover boy.”

The nickname elicits what can only be guessed was a sorry attempt at an eye roll but he gets distracted in demonstrating his contempt by what Pidge is presenting Shiro with.

“Mmh was’the tube for?”

“Ever seen the wonky mask that scuba divers use? Well, Shiro’s going to take an unprecedented dive today and this is the best substitute I could find.”

“Hold up—“

“Nope, you don’t get a say, I nearly busted my ass pulling this lose. Tube goes in your mouth. Pinch your nose so you don’t accidentally waterlog your lungs. And pray that the others find us before you have to do any of that.”

Shiro is silent for a long moment but Pidge doesn’t care. She’s too busy catching her breath and willing the fire in her arm to ease to give her stubborn superior any room for protest.

“I should’ve sent Lance.”

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fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

Text

never meant to change the fire in your eyes

idk what this is? it just came to me. i’ve been listening to this song since it was released and one of the lyrics stuck inside my mind. the lyric really reminded me of royai so after a year i’ve finally got something written down that goes with it. hope you enjoy <3

rated: t | words: 2020 | tags: kidnapping, rescue from kidnapping, hurt/comfort

read on ao3

never meant to change

the fire in your eyes

“Lieutenant?” His call holds as much authority as he can muster. His eyes scan the room dangerously, daring another assailant to jump out on him. There would be no mercy for them if they did. Not after what they’d done to his team.

There’s a muffled cry to his left. Roy’s head whips around and immediately he starts forward. Rounding the boxes stacked haphazardly, he comes across what he’d been looking for.

Or who.

Lieutenant Hawkeye is bound with cuffs and a gag in her mouth. There’s a red mark on her cheek from a blow that sets his body alight and turns his vision red. However she is not hopeless. Her eyes burn with indignation and ire as she rattles her wrist and jerks them, trying to break free from the restraints behind her back.

Swiftly and with a quick transmutation circle Roy sets her free. Once the gag is removed she coughs and scoffs in disgust. It looks clean but Roy is not completely sure. The thought makes him angrier.

“Bastards,” Hawkeye curses under her breath.

Eyes down, she looks at her red wrists and rubs them to ease some pain. Roy follows her gaze, but notices there’s something off. Her movements are jerky and so is her breath. She won’t look him in the eyes despite the fury he’d seen in them before.

“Hey,” he coaxes gently. His gloved hands reach forward and settle gently atop both of hers.

She flinches and it makes Roy’s stomach drop. But she doesn’t stop rubbing.

“Hey, Hawkeye?”

She still doesn’t lift her eyes. She huffs and sighs heavily but it’s shaky. Her body shudders with it. It unsettles Roy, making him wonder what exactly these people had done to her in the few short hours he’d pursued his kidnapped Lieutenant.

“Riza.”

This garners her attention. Her head jerks up and while her lips are pressed into a thin line her eyes are close to owlish and almost fearful. The fire is gone, fizzled out for the moment, now that she knows she’s safe and in good company.

Slowly Roy shifts his weight forward and grasps her chin with care. He’s pleased to notice Hawkeye lets him. She watches him silently, eyes begging for something, but Roy doesn’t know what.

“You’re all right,” he promises. “I’ve got you.”

Her head nods, a tiny movement, before another long sigh leaves her. Hawkeye’s eyes flutter closed and her body tips forward. Roy doesn’t care for propriety as he wraps his arms securely around her. It looks like she could use the support and he’s more than happy to provide it. With her face pressed into his jacket Roy works out the kinks in her hair, running his hands through it. Her clip has disappeared, and it leaves him crestfallen to notice that. It had been a gift. To calm himself and ward off thoughts of revenge against those who had left his dear Lieutenant so shaken, Roy tries to remember where he’d bought the hairpiece last time and wonders where he’d possibly be able to buy her a new one.

Hawkeye pulls away, now composed. Without a word he helps her to her feet. He had no idea how she was faring but getting to her feet seemed promising. However, with past experience, he remembers how she’s one to shoulder and bury everything to get through, leaving it to deal with once she’s alone. For her sake, Roy hopes it is the former, that she is finally calm and ready, and not the latter. Regardless, he’d be right beside her to help. The question was whether she’d let him.

His hand gently grips her elbow, and he holds out his other hand for her to take. She can refuse if she wants to, but he still wanted to offer.

Her fingers slide in between his. A comforting weight. Roy gives them a squeeze as they begin to walk.

“Let’s get out of here,” he offers.

“Home?”

Roy’s lips purse. He wants her to see a doctor, but he knows he cannot force her.

“Wherever you’d like to go,” he replies.

Hawkeye nods and confirms that she’d just like to go home. The team is outside the building standing guard and waiting on an ambulance arriving. Roy had ordered it, just in case. Thankfully, it may not need to be used, however still he hopes it will appear in time for them exiting. Hawkeye may not like it, but she wouldn’t fight if the medics rushed to check her over.

They take the metal steps to the ground floor slowly. He holds on tight and remains as close as he can for support. They’re silent as they move but once they’re halfway down, Hawkeye speaks and breaks the silence between them.

“You’re not even supposed to be here,” she scolds him quietly, but her knees shake and her body falters. Instinctively his hold tightens to catch her as she falls but once Roy realises the gravity of such a reaction his fingers grip onto her even tighter.

“You okay –?”

“Fine.”

Her reply is curt, and Roy thinks her bravado will be her downfall. Unhappy, he sighs quietly but lets it go for now. There’s no point arguing when she’s as shaken as she is. It’s barely noticeable. She hides it well. However the way her hands tremble gives her away immediately to him.

“Don’t ask me not to interfere when I know your life is in danger,” he replies to her reprimand.

As they take their time to walk down the steps she glances over at him out the side of her eye.

“After finding out what they’re after, the whole point was to keep your involvement hidden –”

“Again,” he interrupts, holding onto her tighter, “do not ask me to sit back and dismiss you and your welfare.” He turns his head to look at her, directly into her eyes. “I could never do such a thing.”

In an action that is so like her, Hawkeye sighs and shakes her head. She’s always looking out for him and his image, putting herself second. It irks him. That should never be the case. It’s in her character, burrowed deep into the marrow of her bones, especially after her actions in Ishval. It shouldn’t be, but it is.

Roy hates it.

“You watch my back,” he murmurs quietly, tipping his head so he’s almost speaking into her hair, “and I watch yours.”

He’s daring but he doesn’t care. Ever so gently, Roy presses a kiss against the side of her head. He needs to do it as much as she needs to hear it.

“I keep you safe,” she counters. Her argumentative tone has disappeared and in its place is one that’s softer. “So you can go on. For us both.”

“I cannot go on without you, Riza.”

It’s a risky declaration, but he’s in the mood for it. After discovering she was kidnapped for possibly having ties with flame alchemy, all bets were off. The men were looking for anything to go on, and who better to “ask” than the adjutant and close confidant of the Flame Alchemist himself?

He will accept the responsibility for this and shoulder the guilt, swallowing it deep inside of him with the rest. Because she didn’t deserve this. It had left her completely unsettled – which caused Roy’s anxiety and alarm to skyrocket – and seeing the result of it makes him feel even worse.

“I’m sorry if all of this was a reminder of –”

“It wasn’t.”

She fights him, again. His frustration swells inside his chest, but he lets it go once more. He’s too relieved that she’s all right to muster any kind of fight against her.

“Did they ask or find anything?”

Hawkeye lifts an eyebrow in derision. “As if I would give anything away, sir.”

“I –” Roy swallows his shame and embarrassment. “I know,” he quickly reassures. “I didn’t mean to –” He huffs to himself. “I’m sorry, that’s not how I intended that to come across. Did they…” He struggles to find the right words. “Did they do anything?”

His breath is held tightly inside his lungs. He cannot let it free until he knows the answer. His exhale would either be fraught with fury or relief.

Understanding his question, Hawkeye shakes her head.

His exhale leaves him in a rush.

“Nothing,” she replies. “Nothing apart from a grilling about the alchemy and restraining me.”

His muscles tense because how dare they tie her up like they did.

“I’m sorry it happened to you,” he mumbles as they descend the last step, “it shouldn’t have.”

In response, Hawkeye is silent because what can she reply? Roy expects none but he needed to voice his thoughts.

It’s a loaded apology, both for the events that had transpired today and those that had occurred when she was a child. That damned tattoo on her back had been a burden from the start, but now it still had the potential to cause problems. Even after the agonising steps they’d taken together to hide and destroy it.

Roy’s eyes flutter closed briefly, cursing Berthold Hawkeye for his lack of forethought and desperation to preserve his work.

“They reminded me of him,” she whispers in admittance.

Her father.

She inhales, long and deep. “There was that same madness, that same look in their eyes…” She shudders and his heart breaks.

“I’m sorry.”

Despite the assurances he knew would be coming, Roy still feels miserable because of her revelation. Regardless of whether the tattoo was a choice or forced upon her, it had affected her life completely. It had been put in place so her father could pass his work onto someone she trusted. Berthold probably knew it would be going to Roy because there was no one else in her life.

He could have just told him, Roy thinks angrily. It hurts to think about. She’d been used as a pawn in someone else’s game for his sake.

Roy has always thought Hawkeye should be somewhere where she could be happy, far away from him and the destructive events that cling to and follow him like a poisonous fog. He can’t help but mourn the life she could have had. The life she deserves. There should be a million miles between them, a distance where Roy and his reputation can’t hurt her.

“I’m okay,” she reassures, but Roy is stuck inside his head. He cannot help but doubt her.

“Roy?”

“I’ve caused you nothing but bother again,” he breathes. “I never meant for my actions and desires to drag you down with me. Ever.”

“That’s not your responsibility,” she shakes her head. “It’s my choice to follow you and I do it more than willingly.”

“But this is my responsibility.” His voice is hoarse as he looks down at the ground in shame and sorrow.

“Never.”

The simplicity of the word drags him from the confines of his mind. He risks a glance at her, afraid of what he’ll see. But her expression is open and patient. There’s an understanding there because they are so alike after all they’ve gone through. Both too stubborn and both hypocrites. They preach the other should not blame themselves, and they shoulder the world for them instead. They cannot and refuse to follow their own advice.

“I’m okay,” she stresses.

Roy’s grip tightens on her, subconsciously holding her closer. “Are you sure?”

Hawkeye nods. “It’s all in the past. It’s all been dealt with. It was just a momentary shock.” Her eyes look into his. “I’m fine now,” she promises. “You found me,” she adds, as if that were the only solution she required to make her feel better.

A shuddering breath leaves him.

“I always will,” he vows.

A soft sigh passes by her lips. Ever so slightly, she leans into him. He removes the hand from her elbow and wraps it around her back instead to pull her close to his side. With him supporting her they walk out into the bright sunshine, seeing the medics already running across.

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #royai oneshot #emma writes #idek if it's good??#and i've tried something different with the tenses too which was p fun #this all stemmed from me wanting to write some comfort and my idea was literally just roy saying: it's ok i've got you #and this song #soft royai hours ppl bc i needed some comfort owo

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Rumor Has It {15}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler-Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, HEAVY ANGST,

Word Count: 4.8K

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

**NOTE: A WORK OF FICTION. NOT CREATED TO GARNER HATE OF ANY SORT.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️❤��

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |

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

Two days passed where you flatlined at least three times a day. Every time it happened, it sent him and everyone else into a tailspin. No one had any time to breathe before another health crisis occurred. The swelling in your brain only returned, which meant you required surgery after surgery. By the time four days had passed, you’d had three surgeries to stop the swelling and bleeding in your brain, and in those three days, your prognosis remained uncertain. Your doctor was optimistic one day because you were holding on and fighting, but the next, the optimism faltered because of how many complications you faced.

He was a ghost. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t leave. He didn’t speak. He didn’t do anything by sit at your bedside and watch you. When he wasn’t doing that he was praying for your recovery, praying for some sign or glimmer of hope. Through his family’s anger, his mother still coddled him. Every few hours, she was pushing food into his hands, trying to convince him to eat. Her logic, “you can’t be there for her if you don’t take care of yourself.” He didn’t know if he deserved to be there to take care of you at this point.

The longer you remained in the induced coma the doctors put you in, and the more problems that arose, he blamed himself more and more. By day five, he was seething in self-pity and loathing. He couldn’t look himself in the mirror without hearing echoes of conversations you’d had. He couldn’t close his eyes even for a second without seeing your face. It should have brought him comfort, but it didn’t it was haunting—you were haunting him, and you were still breathing.

Whenever he did step away for biological functions, he came back to find Christiano in your room. Every time he saw him, his instinct said to kill him, and every time Christiano laid eyes on him, he could see the hatred and jealousy in his eyes. When he wasn’t there, Christiano was slandering him to any tabloid that would give him airtime. He called him every name, even went as far as to add to the speculation he’d had an affair. The only reason why he didn’t pummel his ass was because of you.

Everyone was right, this was the place, and it certainly wasn’t the time. He was the least important factor in all of this. He still made it difficult. He had to co-exist with him around, had to find a way to remain in the same room with him without jumping over your bed to choke him out. He’d had plenty of daydreams that ended in Christiano’s dead body. He’d done it many ways, and each ending had him smirking. Scott was the one to point out the evilness to his smirk once, and like his brother, he knew just what had put the smirk there.

“Tell me something,” Christiano began. He was sitting across the room on your left-hand side with an evident scowl. “Why her?”

Rolling his eyes, he sighed out. He knew Christiano was only setting some trap for him to fall in, either by showcasing his rage that would prove to your family he was the worst choice you could have made. Clenching his jaw, he focused on your face determined not to fall for his antics.

“I’m just trying to make friendly conversation. It’s just us here. Man to man tell me. Why her?”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Why’d you go after her? I know she told you about me. I know because we talked a little bit after you met.”

His head snapped to Christiano then. You hadn’t told him that.

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” He scoffed then crossed his arms. “Yeah. I called one night, she said she was in Madagascar, Malaysia—no, that’s not it—hmm--Maldives.” Christiano looked at him then. The Maldives meant something to him. Perking up in his seat, he saw a bigger smirk on Christiano’s face. He knew it meant something. “Yeah, it was the Maldives. We talked for like an hour. She kept her voice low, I thought she was just tired, but you were probably fast asleep, and she didn’t want you to know that she was talking to me.”

Christiano shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Why her?”

He stared at you again. You were battered and bruised with tubes and wires coming out of every possible surface of skin, but still gorgeous. He couldn’t help but wonder what you’d talked to him about. He remembered the trip to the Maldives--he remembered it well. He knew this was what Christiano wanted, him to doubt you, doubt your relationship. He was a real asshole.

“If you really knew anything about love, then you’d know I didn’t have a choice, and she wasn’t singled out. If you knew about anything but possessing and claiming like the entitled fuck you are, then you’d know something more powerful, something bigger than anything was what had a hand in it being her for me.”

When he looked at Christiano, he saw the same rage and jealousy, but he also saw something else confusion. He had no idea what he was talking about. This wasn’t about love for Christiano. He’d always known it, but he was surer than ever. The question was, what was this about? Before either of them could speak again, the door opened, revealing your doctor—Dr. Diallo and another doctor in pink scrubs.

“Oh, excuse the intrusion,” he began.

“It’s fine. Is there a change?”

“I’m afraid not, I’ve brought the head of OB. Remember, I told you we’d schedule a proper workup for the pregnancy?”

“Yes,” he answered as he rose from his seat.

“Mr. Evans, my name is Dr. Michaelson. I am the head of Obstetrics,” she informed, holding out her hand for him to shake, which he did.

“Dr. Diallo has filled me in on everything concerning your wife. I am sorry for your struggle.”

“Thank you.” That was when all eyes landed on Christiano, still sitting there as if he had every right to be there.

“Eh-em, Mr. White, I am going to have to ask you to wait outside. Perhaps you’d like to take a break. This may take some time,” Dr. Diallo informed. Christiano clenched his jaw but didn’t speak as he walked to the door. Before he walked out, Christiano gave him another look that said he had plenty to say, but he kept quiet and left.

“Come in, please.” Both doctors walked into the room, pushing a cart with them.

“I’m here to perform an ultrasound. After everything your wife has been through, we have to fully understand what is happening within the womb as well as make sure the pregnancy is progressing as normal and that the embryo is healthy,” Dr. Michelson explained as she set up the device that was on the cart.

“What if when you examine her, you find things less than ideal?”

Dr. Diallo and Dr. Michaelson exchanged a look that didn’t look hopeful. “Depending on the situation, two things are possible, your wife will naturally have a miscarriage, and the embryo will pass, or a medically assisted miscarriage will be performed,” she explained.

His emotions nearly got the best of him. Taking a moment, he took a deep breath. “We um—she’s already had one miscarriage.”

“When?”

“A few months ago, about eight or so,” he clarified. Dr. Michelson nodded and opened your hospital gown before she squirted a clear gel on your stomach. His eyes didn’t miss the bloodied bandages a few inches above your navel. His heart lurched, making him drop to the seat behind him.

“Are you alright?” Dr. Diallo was to his side after a few moments.

“Fine,” he assured. Dr. Diallo didn’t listen, though; he pressed his fingers to the inside of his wrist, feeling his pulse which was racing.

“Your pulse is higher than normal. When was the last time you slept, Mr. Evans?”

“The night before this all happened,” he confessed.

“Mr. Evans,” Dr. Diallo began. He knew what he was going to say. Raising his hand, he stopped the lecture before it began.

“I know. Let’s continue, please.”

When Dr. Michaelson placed the wand on your stomach. He watched her move it around searching. After almost a minute of silence in the room, it filled with the sound of a rapidly beating heart.

“What’s that?”

Dr. Michaelson smiled as she continued to move the wand. “That Mr. Evans is the sound of your baby. It’s the baby’s heartbeat.”

Tears filled his eyes, and they automatically streamed down his cheeks. The word “baby” echoed in his head. He hadn’t even wrapped his head around the fact that you were pregnant. When he was told the news, it was just something that hadn’t resonated. It was just news. Now it was different.

“It’s fast.”

“It’s absolutely normal. I’m happy that the heartbeat is this pace. I worried it would be slower. Ah-ha, here we are. I stand corrected.”

The image on the screen took his breath away.

“It is the sound of your babies,” Dr. Michaelson clarified. His jaw dropped as he looked at her. She nodded, confirming it.

“Plural?”

“Plural, twins, incredibly strong twins. See, this is one baby and the other. They are in separate sacs, two separate placentas. From this, I’d say fraternal twins.”

He leaned closer, rested his elbows on the edge of your bed, and just gawked at the image on the screen. The two near microscopic tadpole-shaped beings looked more frog-like than humans, but he didn’t care. They were his tadpoles. The weight of that had him dropping his head to rest atop your thigh. his body shook as he sobbed and just listened to the sound of the beats in the room. It was the most incredible sound he’d ever heard. Only one other sound ever had this impact on him—your voice.

“They look healthy. I can’t see anything wrong. There is no abruption of any kind, no bleeding, no abnormalities. They are perfect.” She sounded amazed.

When he looked up again, he just stared at the screen, at your children. He knew he should have felt happiness, and to some degree, he did, but it was a different kind of happiness. His sorrow still tethered him to the earth, making it impossible to feel full happiness over the news that should have sent him onto cloud nine.

“From the size of the embryos, it looks like she’s maybe nine weeks along,” Dr. Michaelson claimed.

He would have smiled if he could. Nine weeks. He knew just when it happened. It was then he remembered his mother’s words. “Through heartbreak, joy can blossom.”

He dropped his head again to your thigh and cried.

“We’ll give you some time with the news,” Dr. Diallo informed as he led the other to the door.

When he was alone, he broke down again as he grabbed your hand.

“Uriah, come back to me. Please, baby, come back to us.”

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

The sun set, then rose, and set again, and he was still beside you with your hand in his. His pleads were now silent, but still, you remained the same. Every time he looked at the ultrasound picture, his fear increased. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to lose everything, and it was unbearable, especially with the thought of the two new lives in your womb. Everything in him said fight, but he had no idea how to do that. What could he do that would have any impact?

“You have to sleep.” He’d recognize his mother’s voice anywhere.

“How do I sleep? How do I do anything but sit here?”

The silence returned, but he felt his mother sit beside him and watch the same thing he was watching—you.

“She would want you to take care of yourself. If not for yourself or her, for the baby.”

He scoffed and wiped a stray tear.

“Babies. Twins.”

“Oh my god, Chris. Are they okay?”

“Yeah, the doctor says they sound healthy, and they’re strong,” he shared.

“Thank god. What a blessing.”

“A blessing? Mom, look around.” He sounded disgusted.

“The situation isn’t, but these babies are a blessing. Through heartbreak, joy can blossom, and it did. Honey, I know you’re hurting, my god, it breaks my heart but--.”

“I only have myself to blame. I know,” he interrupted.

“I never said that.”

“It’s what you want to say. It’s all any of you think. None of you will even listen or give me the benefit of the doubt. You all just automatically believe the lies, believe that asshole.”

“Watch your mouth!”

Snapping his mouth shut, he lowered his head to rest it on your hand.

“I never said I didn’t believe you. You’re my son. I will always believe you over tabloid fodder. I am just—disappointed.”

He sighed. If it was anything any child hated to hear was the disappointed line.

“How could you let this happen?” She sounded disappointed this time. Truthfully, she wasn’t asking him anything he hadn’t asked himself in the last week. The answer was the same.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Mean for it or not, it’s happened. I’m not going to ask you if you had an affair with this woman.”

“Of course, not mom. I’ve never been unfaithful to my wife. You didn’t raise me like that. How could I? She’s perfect.”

“Okay, you didn’t have an affair. Someone has gone out of their way to make it seem as if you have. You have to ask who. To figure that out, you have to figure out a motive. Who has something to gain if you and Uriah have problems or divorce?”

“Christiano.” His eyes met his mother’s.

“So your theory is he did what exactly?”

“That video is bullsh—doctored. None of that happened. I just don’t know how he even got his hands on it. There were no paps there, no-one but cast and crew,” he explained.

“Maybe someone from the cast or crew took the video,” his mother suggested.

He began to go through each of the cast dismissing them one by one because none of them had any motivation to do something like this. He’d worked with them all before and had developed a relationship with them—a friendship. He was sure he could trust them. When he came to Ana, he acknowledged that she was the only one who was a new acquaintance. From the day they’d met at the screen test, he’d felt comfortable around her, and that was a reason why he had such a difficult time seeing her as anything but a friend. The facts were, though, that he’d never worked with her before.

“They would have had to have the know-how to edit something that extensively,” he said as his thoughts roamed.

From what he knew, Ana didn’t have those skills, but she had enough money to find someone who could. He came up with reason after reason why she could be the culprit, but for every reason to it being her, he came up with one to say she wasn’t the one to blame. He thought back to their brief conversation a few days ago. She sounded shaken up as if none of this made sense to her like it came from out of nowhere. She sounded like a victim, he thought. She was an actress, though, he thought in the same breath. Still, he couldn’t deny the way she insisted on handling the investigation into it was a little suspicious. He hadn’t thought about then or cared to because his thoughts were all over the place and only on you, but now something felt off.

“Chris--.” His manager walked into the room, interrupting his conversation with his mother.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a tough time, but this is getting out of hand. The longer you don’t make a statement, you are fueling the rumors and even giving this Christiano guy a stronger leg to stand on.”

He sighed and sat back in the chair. Real life was calling.

“You have to make a statement, even if it is something small, something simple. PR thinks the same thing. Appearances are everything.”

“I don’t give a fuck about appearances! My wife is lying in this bed. My wife is fighting for her fucking life! I don’t give a shit what they want to say. I don’t give a shit what anyone is saying!”

He sprang to his feet and paced the room. Motion always helped to calm him down, but right now, it wasn’t helping.

“I get that, but you have to find a way to slow the shit storm.”

He stopped in front of the window and stared out.

“Honey, he’s right. This is a nightmare; we get it. It is only going to get worse the longer you stay quiet. Just give them something small.”

Balling his fist, he tried to stay away from the feelings of rage he’d been battling the last week. “Fine. Uriah—my wife—my life,” he began before taking a beat to stave away the fresh tears that threatened to stream. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he continued. “--Was involved in a car accident and our family is asking for privacy and positivity during this difficult time. I encourage everyone not to listen to believe or give fire to false rumors that do not lead anywhere. There is your statement.”

“Chris--,” his manager began.

“That is the statement! If you want anything else, you won’t get it here.”

He heard a sigh and the sound of the door opening. “Wait. I need someone looking into that video. I want answers.”

The next thing he heard was the soft click of the door closing, then felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder. It felt like the weight of the world, and it was enough to bring him to tears yet again.

-One Week Later-

He took a deep breath and looked out at all the faces of everyone he cared deeply about--his mother, sisters, brother, their significant others, your parents, your cousin, and best friend. After a week of turmoil both internally and externally, he was sitting in front of everyone that probably hated him. You’d been in your coma for two weeks now, and for the last two weeks, everyone was on edge. Everyone felt the uncertainty, everyone felt the tension and none of them knew what to say. The only ones who spoke to him were his mother, his brother, and Shanna’s boyfriend. He understood. To them, he was public enemy number one. He hadn’t given them any reason to believe any differently. It was time to change that.

“You’ve all known me for a long time, if not my entire life, then the last six years. I know in the last few weeks and months none of you have any reason to think the best of me. I know you all blame me for what’s going on, and to be truthful, I understand completely. You don’t blame me more than I blame myself.” He dropped his head and slightly shook his head before he faced them again.

“I’m sorry for the situation that I have put you all in, but let it be known once and for all for any doubt in any of your minds. I did not have an affair. Never have I nor would I ever cheat on my wife—your daughter,” he finished looking your parents in their eyes.

Your father kept his eyes on him. He knew it was an intimidation technique. Your father was a respected marine sergeant, and when it came to intimidation, he was the best around for it. A full minute passed before he took another breath; still, your father hadn’t looked away. “Mr. Tyler, I swear to you. I gave you my word years ago that I would respect your daughter, love her, and treat her like the queen she was. I have not gone back on my word, never—not once,” he added.

“Then how are we here, Chris?” Your mother sighed out before her face scrunched to produce fresh tears. “My daughter is lying in a hospital bed, and the world is calling you a cheater.”

“I know Roxxi. I did not cheat. That video is doctored, nothing of the sort happened. It was an outing with the entire cast. We left at the same time, but what that video doesn’t show is me getting in a car with Daniel and Jamie while she went her own way. I’ve only ever had eyes for her.”

The silence returned, and everyone looked to be waiting to know how they should react.

“Auntie Roxxi, Uncle Marcus,” Zora began stepping forward. “This situation is bad all around. We can all agree on that. I’ve been with Riah since the beginning of this whole thing. While Chris has made mistakes in the way he’s handled this,” she paused and looked at him. It was as if she was searching for something, he didn’t know what, but he hoped she didn’t seal his coffin.

Zora sighed and gave him a slight nod before she continued. “Chris loves Riah, I’ve seen how much he loves her. He’s been a blind, trusting buffoon, but he didn’t have an affair.” He released a relieved breath as Zora looked at him again. “He would never no matter how bad it looks,” she finished.

Everyone spoke amongst themselves as he locked eyes with Zora. The look on her face said she was angry and disapproving, but it also said she stood with him. She knew something.

“Then what is going on?” Carly was the one to ask the burning question everyone was thinking.

“That is what I intend on getting to the bottom of,” he responded with determination.

Everyone nodded together, and for the first time, he felt like they were all on the same page and that the page wasn’t hating him.

When everyone broke off to their own conversations, he took Zora and Kizzy to the side to figure out just what they knew. Neither Zora nor Kizzy wanted to talk in the open and insisted on meeting in one of the other private rooms meant for families. That was enough to raise his suspicions, and when he met them there, he could feel the icy chill in the air that matched the cold glare from Kizzy.

“First of all, just because Z is on your side does not mean I’m okay with any of the shit you’ve done,” Kizzy blurted out loud enough that someone could have heard if they weren’t alone in the room. Zora elbowed Kizzy, who crossed her arms and sat back in the seat.

When Zora was going to speak, Kizzy leaned forward again. “Before any of that, look me in my eyes and tell me you didn’t cheat on my best friend. Look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not the stupid motherfucker you’re acting like.”

“Kizzy!”

He held his hand up, letting Zora know it was okay. Leaning forward as Kizzy did, he met her eyes. “I didn’t cheat on her. Nothing has ever happed between Ana and me, ever. I would never.” He could feel Kizzy was seconds from blowing up, and he didn’t blame her. Sighing out, she leaned back again.

“Then explain the texts.” Zora’s voice drew his attention.

“What texts?”

“You’ve been caught, Chris. We saw the texts in Ana’s phone. The texts between the two of you,” Kizzy blurted out.

He looked at Zora who was shaking her head. When she opened her mouth, he was shocked by what she said. She told him of the hotel and just what you were doing there. When they told him about what they’d heard and seen in Ana’s phone, he couldn’t hide his shock.

“Yeah, what the fuck you gotta say now?”

He sat back in his chair in disbelief that he’d driven you to this extreme. He never wanted you to feel like you had to act like this. He never wanted to give you a reason to. The shame he felt was intense. Dropping his head in his hands, he rubbed it.

“Explain touching her breasts, explain the kiss. Explain telling her marriage is hard and all the other private shit you said. What the fuck!”

“We were going through a scene where my character goes after her, and he’s supposed to be seeing red,” he began.

Kizzy kissed her teeth loudly while rolling her eyes, “Who the fuck cares. Get on with it!”

Reigning in his anger, he took a deep breath and continued. “In the haste of the scene, one of my hands got her arm, and the other touched her breast. I immediately pulled back and apologized. It was not intentional, and it was a fraction of a second.”

“And the kiss?”

“That was her. We were running lines in between takes, and she kissed me. Again I immediately pulled back, and it wasn’t even a second. I told her that wasn’t cool, and she apologized said--.”

“We saw what she said. Conveniently, you have explanations for all of this.”

“It’s the truth, Kizzy. You know Riah, why would I risk my life by making a fool out of her like that? Even if this was true, do you think I’d be such a messy asshole to let any of this come out? I’m sorry to say this, but I’m a lot smarter than that.”

“Smarter? You’re the dumb ass who has been entrusting this snake!”

“I didn’t know anything about any plan she had. Besides those exchanges with her, there has been nothing else. The conversations you can fault me for. Yes, the little I said was too much, I see that now. I didn’t see it then I saw it as a friend I could confide in about things.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!” Zora’s shout was loud and bounced off the walls. He slinked back as did Kizzy.

Everyone’s tempers were high.

“Do you think Ana is behind all of this?”

“Of course that bitch is behind this,” Kizzy blurted. Zora gave her a look that had her shut up quick.

“What about Christiano?”

Kizzy and Zora looked at each other and exchanged a look he wanted to know more about.

“We know you hate him, and he is being a pain in the ass, but how?”

They sat there silently, each thinking about different aspects of this entire situation. When the door busted open, Scott was there.

“Come quick. It’s Uriah!”

The three of them were on their feet in seconds, and the four of them ran back toward your room. When they approached, Dr. Diallo was walking out of the room.

“What’s happened?”

“She’s awake.”

Everyone exclaimed out with joy and relief and began celebrating, but he couldn’t.

“Is she okay?”

“It is a good sign she is awake, an excellent sign.”

The first smile in weeks spread across his face. “Can we see her?”

Dr. Diallo nodded and stepped aside, allowing them to walk inside the room. Everyone else poured in the room first, he hung back mainly from fear because of how things were left. He watched as everyone filed in around your bed. You were sitting up, eyes open, tubes gone and alert. His emotions got the best of him then. It was a sight he’d prayed for, a sight he’d wanted more than anything. He watched as almost gave you gentle hugs. You weakly smiled back at everyone else before you saw him. When your eyes locked, the look was a blank one. The fear in him rose even more, but he couldn’t stay away any longer.

Everyone looked at him, making room for him to get in closer. As he approached your bedside, your eyes never left him. When he leaned in to hug you, you recoiled away from him. He’d expected it, but still, it hurt a lot more than he’d ever thought it would. Fighting to keep the pain away, he took a breath and looked into your eyes again. Still, the blank look was there, but so was confusion and fear.

“Wha—what—eh-em--.” You looked as if you were in a lot of pain, but you didn’t stop. You tried again. “What’re—you—doing—here?” Your voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper. You took a deep breath and panted like it took everything out of you.

“Baby—I know we’re going through something but--.” Your brows knitted together as you pulled back even more, looking at your mother and father.

“We? Ba—baby? What—what’s—going—on? I—don’t—know you.”

He could have been knocked over by a gentle breeze. He’d thought the worst-case scenario if you woke up was you hating him or wanting a divorce. He never thought it would be you erasing his very existence from your world.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

Tag List:

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @caramara3 @vannahvannahhh @lorainnebabyy @patzammit @yourwonderbelle @pennywisesmistress @theblulife @kelbabyblue @bugngiz @kikimiyazaki @toniilaney @areubeingserved @thinkxlovexloud @cocothewriter @periodtcevans @southerngracela @bellaamor88 @mack-jay @titty-teetee @pananegra @wellthirsted @sup3rn0va13 @ nova3312 @ hello-therree @valkyriesnymph @ squeackygee @niyashell @allmonstersxarehuman @zsuzstyina @peggy-potts @amelatonin @lvlyab @sullyosully @renesmeeharelds @capslut2014 @ilovehatembj @thelittlemoistcarrot @sarcastic-sunshines @a-dizzle777 @taylorveebee @allnamesicouldthinkofweretaken @choices97 @chrisgalore @rynabarnesrogers @ab-baybay @motivation-idontknowher @lo-cheu @momobaby227 @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @queenbetter@jesseswartzwelder @briellableu @zaddysqueen7 @melaninhawtie @simplyyamberr @airis-paris14 @ashanti-notthesinger @afraiddreamingandloving @ajspencer1892 @wakanda-inspired @chillavesss @drsunshine97 @cleothegoldfish @builtalongthewayside

@theunsweetenedtruth @geeksareunique @aykanna @hanasamara @profilia @ollieveracity @autumn242 @missyperle @forbeautyandlife @kreolemami @designerwriterchic @firedolphin04 @academic-glowup @periodtcevans @nova3312 @hello-therree @squeackygee capslut2014 @ilovehatembj @taylorveebee @thatcrazymarvelfan @oceanscorazon @90sinspiredgirl @mizcaptainwidow @angrybirdcr @cherrystainedlipsbaby @marvelfansworld @blowmymbackout @almostpurelysmut @impossiblegiantrebelbasketball @choices97 @phreshouttherunwaaayy @heladoom @alyxkbrl @evemej @queensevansackles @rosey1981 @laketaj24 @munteanhore @minton131 @trillistb @purplehairgawdess @ollieveracity @maddeningmayhem @what-is-your-plan-today @evermcfearless @richonne4life @dumbchick @toni9 @briellableu @amennariee @brwnsugababe @sadishdelray @browskinafro @surmya1907 @islanddgal @scoop93535 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @queenoftheworldisdead @chrisevansfanfic @thejeneralvicinity @doublesidedscoobysnacks @what-is-your-plan-today @thefuckingluxury @naturalthrone22 @queen-audsalena @maeleeme @tantricevans @renfrewscorner @songtoyou @coolbakeryprunetoad @chrissbabybunny @zeedaye @littlepreciousangel @imthatbitchsworld @soul--notforsale @toni9 @someone-really-bored @venustrap04 @laketaj24 @chrisevansdaddycap @offrostandstarlight @kittykatlow @night-of-the-living-shred @queenshikongo3 @fanfictionaffair @unknownmystery22 @naturalthrone22 @blackgurlkillinit @simply-heaven @chezdricks @euh-say-what-now @actorinfluence @chaos-crusader @cyntgefel01 @miss-jackson500 @rynabarnesrogers-reading

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

#rumor has it fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #chris evans x ofc #chris x uriah

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nimsajlove · 3 years

Text

Moments (I/VI)

Just a quick idea, because I love to imagine Ahsoka interacting with the clones as her brothers. So have a small piece with little moments between them, will maybe do a second part with the dominos.

Brothers-AU Ao3

Part II

*~*

With a very bad feeling in her stomach, she crept through the corridors, where was she actually going? She knew that she didn't want to burden her master with something like that... The silence pressed on her ears and she didn't knew what to do about it. Finally she found herself in front of the clones' quarters and hesitated for a while, should she just check to see if a bunk was free? Or would she intrude too much into that little bit of privacy the men still had? She knew, that she was very intrusive from time to time and shied away from the door, turned around and wanted to continue on her way.

She didn't get far, she hadn't even reached the next corner when she was stopped. "Weren't you in your quarters already?" She turned and saw Rex walking down the hall. He had a datapad in hand, there was still work to be done at that time. His gaze was searching hers and a grin formed on her lips, as if it were programmed into her. “I wanted to stretch my legs again. After all the walking, it's strange to sit still.", she replied easily and as he stepped past her she trotted beside him. There was silence for a few seconds, then she heard him turn off the datapad and she saw in the corner of her eye, how he looked down at her. "I thought, the Jedi wouldn't have any problems with that.", he teased and she puffed up her cheeks, even if he was right. It wasn't sitting still that was causing her problems after such a day.

Had she had the choice, she would have just lay in a corner for hours and slept, she was so tired! No, the crux of the matter was different.

The way to the captain's quarters was calm, quietly he maintained a gentle conversation and the feeling of cotton in her ears evaporated. It was so nice to hear something. Because the cruiser's quiet hum was always there, but too quiet in the quarters to be counted as a noise. Maybe she should take a nap in the hangar?

"Good night.", Ahsoka mumbled when they reached the quarters. She waited for an answer and just wanted to make her way to the sleeping place that had just occurred to her. But a hand on her shoulder turned her to the open door and pushed her inside. "Come on, otherwise you'll just wander around again.", Rex mumbled in amusement and the door closed behind them, she just stood in the middle of the room. It was small and crowded, like all the quarters. There was a small work space and a bunk, that was it. Not unlike her own... "You normally have no problem claiming everything for yourself.", the clone grinned openly as he sat down at his desk and the datapad glowed gently again.

After a few seconds she moved again and sat down silently on the bunk, knees drawn to her body, and watched him with her big eyes. "I don't want to be an intruder.", she mumbled and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, so his instincts hadn't deceived him. He knew that look from tired eyes from the shinys and other, younger, clones. "It's just so...", she started and lost words a little. "Quiet?", he finished and looked up, she nodded and slumped her shoulders against the wall.

It was strange when Ahsoka woke up. Blinking, she opened her eyes and looked around, she was curled up in a bunk that could have been hers. However, a pile of work was on the desk and the cup was not hers, it smelled slightly of coffee. Then she had to smile when she remembered. It had been the best night since starting her padawan training. Illuminated by a datapad and filled with the captain's soft tapping and crackling. She resolved to show her gratitude and perhaps tease him less for the next few days.

*~*

Rex got up and left, she knew he still had enough work to do and she didn't really need someone to sit and watch her. Still, she was kind of relieved, when Jesse took his seat and placed his tray next to hers. She remembered the battle and frowned. "How is your shoulder?", she asked softly and pushed her food back and forth on the plate, somehow she couldn't really get an appetite. The man next to her smirked and nudged her lightly in the side. “Everything is still in place. Come on, what's that long face for?”, he asked and she shrugged her shoulders. She didn't really knew what was going on herself. Somehow she couldn't get rid of a few thoughts since the battle.

"Is it because Hardcase won the bet?" She puffed up her cheeks and looked at her tray, yes the missing dessert depressed her a little and she would have loved to get it back. But lost was lost. "My dessert on not being able to jump onto the captain's shoulders without falling to the ground.", Jesse grinned and gave her a look, her eyebrows raised skeptically. "He'll come back through the canteen in..." The man glanced at the clock. "Twelve minutes." Ahsoka didn't doubt the statement, Jesse knew the captain's habits really well! But…

"Oh what, you want to back off?", he grinned and elicited a deep growl from the girl. His grin widened, one corner of his mouth rose a little higher than the other and he could see exactly how Ahsoka's arms tensed. Now he had her at the point, where all he had to do was place a small word correctly to infuriate her. "Hey Kix, maybe you also want to bet on-" He broke off as the padawan swung herself in his direction and tried to grab him. Laughing, he dodged and fled the canteen, the togruta laughing and growling behind him. He knew full well, that after that he would have a few more bruises. But he also knew that she was laughing.

*~*

"Ouch!" She hissed and pulled her arm back with a jerk, pressed it protectively against her chest and stared at Kix with furrowed eyebrows. He sighed deeply and tiredly, before reaching out to her again. "If you could just hold still for a second, it wouldn't hurt either.", he grumbled and grabbed her wrists with surprising strength. Growling, the girl gave in and allowed him to stretch out her arm again and further clean the fine line on the inside. If she was honest, she no longer knew what actually hurt her.

There was silence for a few seconds, then Ahsoka heard footsteps in the hallway and bowed her head, listening. "That sounds like Hardcase and Hevy.", she grinned and prayed, that Kix would be distracted enough by it that she could get away. But to her disappointment, his grip on her wrist only tightened and she gave in, but still had to grin when the other two clones came in. Hevy had a fine cut over his eyebrow, if she'd guess she'd say Hardcase had hit him with his elbow. "At some point I'll lock this damn training hall.", Kix muttered without turning around and wiped the Togruta's arm again before taping the wound. She looked at him more closely, he looked a little tired. Maybe they should really turn down a bit?

His fingers ran one last time over her arm and he released her from his grip, she jumped from the stretcher and grinned at Kix, trying to drive away the exhausted expression on his face. "Thank you Kix, really.", she mumbled and he actually smiled, the lines on his forehead smoothing out a bit. Still, she knew that he would take his further frustration out on Hevy and Hardcase. "Anytime, vod'ika.", he said, patting her head. Maybe she was a little too old for that, but somehow it was nice...

She left the medistation full of energy. "And don't tear it open again!", the medic called after her.

*~*

Ahsoka felt so tired. Again and again she clenched her fingers into fists to stay focused, the march was far from over. But after almost a week in this labyrinth of trees and rocks, the budding jedi's reserves were slowly used up. She stumbled next to Skywalker and Rex and carefully put one foot in front of the other, she felt her master's gaze at her again and again and did not want to give the impression of being weak. When she stumbled again and hastily grabbed the Jedi's forearm, however, it was Rex who spoke up.

"General, maybe a short break would be appropriate?", he suggested and Ahsoka rubbed her forearms, she shivered slightly from tiredness and exhaustion. Her master's regrets crept over to her in the force. “We can't rest yet. We have to get to the meeting point without wasting any more time than we already have lost.", he sighed and Ahsoka wasn't sure how far she could walk anymore, but agreed with him. "Sorry, Snips.", he muttered to her, but she gave him a bright smile with bared fangs. "Don't worry master, I'll be fine."

After another hour she was already a few steps behind the front row and after another 30 minutes she clutched the arm that Jesse had discreetly offered her. She felt many looks in her back and cursed inwardly, she had to be strong and look reliable, always! But she couldn't prevent herself from stumbling slightly and still clinging to Jesse, who was navigating her through the forest. After another big stumble, there was a snort behind her and she and Jesse spun around. "If it's not going fast enough for you, then carry her.", he growled, whereupon Ahsoka growled at him. "I can walk myself!", she hissed and turned back around.

Suddenly two large hands grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up until she was sitting on Hardcase's shoulders and propping herself on his helmet. "What's this supposed to be?", she asked, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as the clone laughed below. "It's no use if your feet are sore. Besides, it was Jesses idea, wasn’t it?", he laughed and continued his march. For a moment Ahsoka thought about jumping down again, but finally sitting felt too good! She sagged a little and propped her arms on his helmet.

The meeting point was not far away, Hardcase was already looking forward to being able to sleep for a few minutes. He walked next to Jesse, who carried his weapon so that he could put his hands around the togruta's lower legs. The girl fell asleep in less than an hour and he felt better, if he could somehow hold her so she wouldn't fall off him. "Almost there guys, just a little longer.", the general called from the front and he and Jesse caught up to the front row. "Sir, shall I...?" He waved one hand at Ashoka, who was still sleeping peacefully on his shoulders. Not that it bothered him, but maybe she'd rather enter the camp on her own two feet? General Skywalker looked at her briefly, then shook his head. "Let her sleep.", he smiled and Hardcase wanted to nod, but then quickly remembered that someone was propped up on his helmet. The rest of the way he hummed contentedly, his fingers gently pounding the beat on the girl's legs and for a second, everything was okay.

#brothers-au #star wars #clone wars #ahsoka tano #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper kix #clone trooper rex #let her sleep

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phoenixhalliwell · 4 years

Text

Waking Up In Vegas

Pairings: Benny Miller X Gender Neutral Reader (I have given them a call sign ‘Tink’ cos I love that nickname lol)

Word count: 2490

Author’s Note: Tumblr is being a wee weirdo and I cant find the link for this fic and my other frankie one for my masterlist so I have to report again *cries*

Archnemesis Benny and reader wake up the morning after a wild night in Vegas with the boys to a surprise revelation.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG

It takes a second to realise that the noise isn’t just your head pounding but in fact someone knocking rapidly at the door. A whimper leaves you as you try not to throw up. You wiggle around the bed, trying to get loose from the heavy blankets but fail miserably.

“Please, stop….too loud. Dying” is all you’re able to croak out. Your mouth is drier than the desert and a one man band is marching in your head. Looking down you realise that it is not a blanket weighing you down but an arm. An arm that is now pulling you backwards to firmly press you against their warm chest. A groan comes from behind you and a face nuzzles into your throat. You can feel the panic starting to build in your chest.

'Oh god, oh god. What the fuck!’ You are brought out of your freak out by a familiar voice.

“Are you going to open the door willingly Tink? Or am I going to have to come in there myself!”

Frankie! Relief rushes through you at your saviour. Frankie is a good guy, he won’t give you shit for this like the other boys. It’ll be swept under the rug and no one else has to know. That’s why Frankie is your favourite. The person behind you suddenly makes their displeasure at being rudely woken known.

“Will you shut the fuck up Fish, some of us are trying to sleep”

A coldness rushes through you. NO. FUCKING. WAY. Not him. Please not him. Slowly turning in the arms that have you in a death grip, you let out a low moan. Benny Miller is lying there in all his glory. He looks almost angelic with the way the morning sunlight hits him just right, making him glow. But you know the truth.

That man is the fucking DEVIL.

To say you and Benny dislike one another was an understatement. There is a long standing feud between you and the younger Miller that goes so far back you can’t quite remember how it started. You were originally a medic under the command of his brother Will, but over time (with Will vouching for your skills) you’d been pulled into other little jobs that involved his old army buddies and his dipshit little brother. You were welcomed into this little make shift family with open arms (well by most people anyways).Will, Santiago and Frankie - you thought the world of. Benny…. let’s just say you wouldn’t piss on if he was on fire. There was just something about Benny that just irks you. The way he calls you names and winds you up until you explode and end up being separated by Will who is sick of both of your shit. That god damn cocky grin rubs you up the wrong way. The way he thinks he’s god’s gift to mankind and struts about. Sure, he is a handsome man and is talented at his profession.He can be kind when he wants to be. He’s loyal and he’ll have your back if the situation calls for it, but it doesn’t mean he has to show off all the fucking time! He’s a god damn pain in your ass!

So to wake up this morning and find out you two have evidently slept together causes a small part of you to die inside. This bastard is never going to let you hear the end of it. You try to cast your mind back on what actually led you to your current predicament.

You and the boys were spending the weekend in Vegas for Santiago’s bachelor party. The wild stallion had finally been tamed and he wanted one last hoorah with his family before the new chapter of his life. The original plan was to have a nice dinner at the Bellagio before hitting up the tables in hopes of winning some cash. That part you could remember, it is the rest that comes in drips and drabs.

The chant of “Shots! Shots! Shots!” echoes in your mind and there is still a faint taste of tequila in your mouth. 'That explains why I can’t remember jack shit. Did we do Karaoke?’ You can see Frankie and Benny screeching “I want to know what love is ” with Will swaying along and Santi throwing money at the them from the front of the stage. 'Why can I hear bells ringing?’ There is also a familiar body ache you know the exact cause of. More flashes come to mind that make your heart race : Stumbling into walls, the desperation of trying to undress quickly, a hot breath on your neck, hands gripping your waist, filthy words being whispered into your ear….

'I’m never drinking again’

The banging at the door starts again, Frankie is clearly pissed at being kept waiting.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your marital bliss but check out is at 11 and I know for a fact neither of you fuck heads have packed”

Marital bliss? Who the hell is married?

You eyes drift down to your left hand and its suddenly hard to breathe. There is a nice new addition to your ring finger. A gold band that sure as shit was not there yesterday. This seems like the perfect moment to start screaming. Benny is up in an instant, scanning the room for the unknown threat. Once he realises it’s just the two of you, his body relaxes and he scrubs his hand over his face. It takes him a moment to notice the feeling of cold metal on his skin and he stares down at his hand, an unreadable look on his face. You are just able to hear him whisper

“Fuck, its real”

This whole situation is suddenly too much and everything becomes blurry as tears fall from your eyes. You can feel yourself start to hyperventilate and Benny is at your side in an instant trying to console you.

“Come on sweetheart you need to calm down. Feel my chest and breathe with me yeah? In… and out…. It’s ok I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurances over and over again. You try to focus on the sound of his deep voice, try to follow his instructions to help regulate your breathing. Gradually it returns to normal and you slump forward into Benny’s arms suddenly exhausted. He rubs his hand up and down your back, somewhat soothing you. You feel him sigh before he turns his face into your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your head. It suddenly occurs to you that Benny has never been this gentle with you and your heart clenches a little. You feel him pull away from you and have to stop yourself from squeezing him tight. You stand there for a few seconds in silence before you hear the door opening behind you. Frankie must have found the spare key to your room.

“Are you guys still alive in here?” he asks timidly, glancing between you and Benny, eyes zoning in on how close the both of you were.

“Yeah man, we’re good.” Benny replies, moving to stand on the other side of the room.

“Look I am really sorry to rush you’s but Will’s anxious to get on the road and he might end up murdering Santi before the wedding if we all don’t hustle” Frankie says apologetically.

“I’ll catch you guys downstairs. I won’t be long” Benny grabs his things off the floor before making a break for the door, leaving you and Frankie to stare at each other awkwardly.

“Not a word Morales” you threaten.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Tink. Let’s pack your stuff and get the fuck out of dodge yeah?”

Like you said. Frankie was always your favourite.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover breakfast. Those little shits planned it so you and Benny are forced to sit side by side in the booth. Frankie is looking somewhat sympathetic when Santi slides a piece of paper over to you with a shit eating grin. It’s photographic evidence of the worst decision of your life. You still weren’t sure how you guys ended up in the little white chapel saying the big 'I Do’. None of the boys seem to remember either or were just refusing to give up any information about it in case they incriminated one of their brothers.

'Bet you it was all that bastard Santi’s fault’

Sighing, you finally look down at the photo in front of you. It was the 5 of you all lined up. You and Benny stand in the middle of the photo, clinging to each other. You were snuggled into his chest as he gazes down at you in awe. You swallow sharply and tear your eyes over to Will who is off to Benny’s left and appears to be crying? (I was just so happy someone took the little shit off my hands) Obviously Will stood in as Benny’s best man, that was a given. On the far end of the photo on your side stood Santi who looked dishevelled and pissed off. Was that blood on his shirt? Between him and you stood Frankie who (unusual for him) was sporting a Cheshire grin. Confused, you looked up at the two men in front of you and suddenly noticed real life Santi had a black eye.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

The two men glanced at each other in embarrassment before Santi quietly admitted that he and Frankie had got into a fist fight over who was going to be your right hand man. Will snorts into his hand in the corner.

'God give me strength not to kill these stupid bastards’ Sighing and rubbing your temples you shot them a glare which has the 3 men across from you cowering in their seats.

“So at no point did any of you guys think to put a stop to this madness?” You growl.

“Is the idea of being married to me really the worst thing in the world?” You hear Benny asks quietly, still not looking at you.

The boys have the good grace to look a little ashamed before Santi decides to pipe up and make his defence.

“Well how could we? Benny spent the best part of the night proclaiming his undying love you. Fuck he even serenaded you at the Karaoke bar.” There is a loud thud and Santi’s face twists into a grimace. Apparently someone had kicked him under the table.

“Yeah right as if Benny would ever say anything like that! He hates my fucking guts. Right Benny?” You scoff and nudge him with your elbow. An uncomfortable silence washes over the table and Benny refuses to look at you. It’s good old Will who breaks the silence, abruptly standing up.

“Why don’t we go sort out the bill yeah?” looking to his brothers.

Santi squawks in outrage and throws up his hands “But it was just getting to the good part!!!” Will grabs him by the collar of his shirt and drags him out of the booth, muttering furiously into his ear before marching him off to god knows where. Frankie reaches over and gently squeezes your hand before sliding out and giving Benny a pat on the shoulder on the way by.

“Good luck hermano” he calls over his shoulder. You wait for a beat before turning to Benny gearing yourself up for a fight.

“Are you fucking serious right now. Or is this all an elaborate game that you and the boys have cooked up Huh?” you hiss.

“You really think I’m that cruel?” he fires back.

“I don’t know! Ever since I met you, you’ve made my life a living hell Benny! So why wouldn’t this not be the next step in the ’ terrorise Tink’ grande scheme?” The remark clearly hits him hard as he whirls round to finally face you.

“You really have no clue do you.”

“What the hell are you talking about Miller?”

Benny scoffs bitterly and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t hate you Tink! I never have. I’m so far gone on you that Will threatens daily to kill me if I don’t shut up about you. Ask him or any of the guys for that matter”. There’s a look of pleading on his face as though begging you to believe what he is saying that leaves you completely floored. Without waiting for a response he barrels on, the dam broken, clearly needing to get everything off his chest at last.

“Do you realise how intimidating it is to talk to you?. You’re amazing and so fucking beautiful Tink that I feel like I can’t breathe every time i look at you. You are hella smart and watching you work on the job blows my mind every time. And that mouth you have on you, no one else ever calls me out on my shit like you. I know I have a sense of humour that people don’t always get. I know I can be a complete asshole and I don’t really have much going in my favour but I’m not a bad man Tink I swear. I’ve been sweet on you since the day I met you. For some reason though you just seemed to dislike me from the start so it was easier to play up on being an asshole. It hurt less that way.” He trails off.

What. The. Fuck.

You stare at him. Dumbfounded. You’d been wrong the whole time?

“I remember most of last night Tink. We had been drinking and betting at one of the craps tables. You were on a winning streak and kept saying if you rolled a hard 8 you would do this and that. You were having the time of your life Tink. I’ve never seen you look so free. So Happy. Any time you’re around me, you’re always so closed off. And it kills me. But you were looking at me different last night. And i was so caught up in the game I bet if you rolled a hard 8 one more time that we should get married. And you took me up on that offer. I’ve never felt so fucking happy in my life. I know it was a stupid idea and that we were drunk, but you finally chose me and if anything happened to me after that I could die a happy man.”

He gently brings both his hands up to cup your face and leans in close, not enough for your lips to touch but close enough for him to whisper to you.

“I know this whole Vegas thing has been crazy and I’m not asking you to stay married to me. That would be unreasonable. All I’m asking is that you choose me again. That you give me a chance to show you how much I care about you. Please”

You stare into his eyes for a second, looking for a hint of deception. Finding none, you make your decision. You close the gap between you and feel Benny sigh in relief into the kiss.

I guess there’s a fine line between love and hate.

#Benny Miller #benny miller x reader #Triple Frontier #Santiago Garcia #santiago pope garcia #Will Miller #will ironhead miller #william ironhead miller #Frankie Morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #francisco morales #waking up in vegas

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is-it-art-tho · 3 years

Text

This is Chapter 8!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.

Medical instruments whirred and beeped, filling the sterile air of the private hospital room with a constant hum. Thankfully, Dick had been captured as a civilian and his body was not yet the dense matrix of scar tissue and old injuries that Bruce’s was, so taking him to the hospital was not as risky as it might have otherwise been. Typically, they would have taken him back to the Cave or to Dr. Thompkins, but after watching Jason practically will Dick’s heart back into rhythm, Bruce would have taken Dick to the hospital himself if the paramedics hadn’t arrived so quickly.

That had been three days ago. Since then, Dick had laid mostly unmoving, only waking for a few minutes here and there to blearily ask questions or hold short exchanges.

Bruce looked out the window. Dusk had begun to fall over the city, and soon the batsignal would light up the sky if there was anything pressing going on.

“Are you working tonight?” Bruce asked, and though he spoke in a low murmur, his voice still felt like a jarring intrusion in the stillness.

Barbara looked up from her book and glanced out the window then at the clock. Sighing, she laid the book on her lap and rubbed her eyes.

“You don’t have to,” he continued. “You know that.”

“I know.” She sighed again, turning her gaze to Dick and pushing his hair back from his face. “I should, though. He’d want me to. It’s safer for the others when I’m there.”

Bruce made a point of looking at his phone as she leaned forward to murmur something and kiss Dick’s forehead.

She paused beside his chair on her way out to ask, “What about you?”

“I’m staying.”

“That’ll be the third night in a row.”

“Someone should be here.”

“Right. Because the two dozen nurses on rotation and extra security personnel you had stationed on this floor don’t count.” On a normal day, there would have been a bit more of a bite to her sarcasm. Not mean spirited, but sharp and witty the way she usually was. But today those edges were dulled by exhaustion and the fact that she likely knew what he was saying, even if he wouldn’t say it aloud.

I will never take my eyes off him again.

“Just make sure you at least try to get a little sleep, okay?”

“Likewise.”

“Hm. Touché.” She patted his leg and wheeled away.

And then Bruce was alone, once again watching the slow rise and fall of Dick’s chest beneath the sheets. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as his thoughts turned outward, to the streets of Gotham where the rest of the kids were out searching for those responsible for this.

Hunting.

“How is he?”

Bruce blinked, startled back to the present.

“Alive,” he answered. “Better.”

There was a deep sigh behind him followed by the sound of boots on tile as Jason entered the room, arms crossed. As far as Bruce knew, this was the first time he’d visited the hospital. In fact, this was the first Bruce had heard from him at all since it all happened.

Something occurred to him then, and he sat upright and took a breath before turning to look at Jason directly. “I owe you an explanation.”

Jason glanced at him with guarded surprise. There was so much tension in every inch of his being that he looked like he would sooner snap in a stiff breeze than bend.

“Tim spoke to me,” Bruce explained, though this was by far an understatement. Once it had become clear that Dick would be okay, Tim had cornered Bruce in the Cave and let him have it.

Bruce couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the boy so upset. He assumed that most of the outburst was likely fueled by the stress of the past few days, but he also knew that Tim had still meant every word.

Jason appeared uncertain, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Bruce continued.

“It was my idea to look into you as a person of interest.”

The younger man managed to go even more rigid. He turned his gaze to Dick. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

“I think we do. Tim told me how much it upset you–”

Jason scoffed. “‘Upset?’ I don’t give a shit what you think of me. I’m not twelve anymore, Bruce.”

Bruce could not begin to express how painfully aware of this he was. Sitting here, staring at the son who he had lost as a boy and had returned a man, Bruce felt almost as if he could count each lost year in the lines and scars on Jason’s face, like the rings in a tree.

“That’s true,” he allowed. “But even so, I want you to know that I regret it.”

“You regret it. Regret what, exactly?”

“Treating you like a suspect.”

“Why? If that’s what I was then why should you treat me any different.”

“Because you are different. You have to know that.”

Bruce could see the muscles working in Jason’s jaw. The younger man’s arms were still crossed, and his fingers were balled in the sleeve along his bicep.

“What are you trying to say.”

And again Bruce felt it, that old wound that had been with him for nearly seven years now. The wound that had opened in him the moment he had lifted Jason’s broken body in his arms and knew that he was gone. It had only grown when he’d found Jason alive again only to learn that there were certain things that even the Lazarus Pit could not resurrect.

It was an ache that reminded Bruce every day of the myriad ways he had failed Jason and continued to do so. He had failed to set him up with a better, healthier life as a child – one far away from Bruce’s own world. He had failed to keep the boy safe. Failed to give him the closure he craved. And now it seemed he had also failed to communicate even the simplest truth.

“You’re my son,” Bruce said, and it felt like an impossibly foolish thing to have to say out loud, like explaining that the sky was blue or grass was green. To think that Bruce had done something to call that into question, or that perhaps he had never made that clear to begin with, was a crushing realization.

He had let his own child down spectacularly. Nothing he could do in life would ever be a suitable restitution. Surely, Bruce would take this with him to his grave.

When Jason finally turned to him, he looked like he’d been struck by lightning. But there was something profoundly sad in his eyes.

“No,” he said after a while, “I’m not.”

“Jason–”

“Your son died, Bruce. He’s not… I’m not that person anymore.”

Bruce wanted to disagree, and he could feel that part of Jason wanted that, too. But this wasn’t entirely false. The Jason who had returned to Gotham was not the same Jason who had once fought by Bruce’s side. It had taken Bruce a while to accept that; he had been so grief-stricken and relieved to have his son back that he had been blind to the obvious fact that things had changed.

That Jason had changed.

Bruce couldn’t be sure how much of that change was due to the circumstances of his death or the passage of time and how much was a result of the Pit itself, but it didn’t matter to him. Not really.

Because when Bruce looked into those green eyes which had once been brown, when he studied the streak of white hair that dangled in the younger man’s face and noted the perpetually defensive set of his mouth and shoulders and all of the other things that had changed since his return, all Bruce saw was Jason.

His son.

And right now, his son was in pain.

“What have I told you about the time after my parents died?” Bruce asked.

“What? Not much, I guess.”

Bruce nodded, unsurprised but vaguely disappointed in himself all the same.

“I went to a dark place,” he explained. “Some kids grieve by lashing out. It’s a cry for help, obviously. They get loud, throw tantrums. I did the opposite. I collapsed in on myself. It was like there was a black hole in my chest, sucking up all of my emotions, my thoughts, my feelings. I didn’t laugh or even cry, really. I barely spoke. I don’t even remember really tasting anything during those days. I walked around for feeling like a shell. Or a ghost.”

Bruce paused. This was a period in his life that he didn’t often reflect on, and now that he was talking about it, the memories were rushing back, vivid and visceral as if he were reliving them.

“What are you–” Jason began, but he quieted when Bruce held up a patient hand.

“After a while, I started to accept that this would just have to be my new reality and I got better at masking it. I learned to smile and laugh at the right times. I talked more and did everything I thought I ought to do to be who I had been before. To be Bruce again. For one thing, I didn’t want Alfred to worry about me, but I was also scared that if I didn’t put on the act he would leave. He had agreed to care for the old Bruce, not whoever this new, damaged person was.

“Then one day – this had to be almost a year later – I was sitting in the den. Not thinking or doing anything, just sitting. I had started doing that a lot. Maintaining the facade was exhausting, so when I was alone sometimes I would just… sit. Only, this time Alfred had been watching me. I have no idea for how long, but eventually he came in and sat next to me and just put his arm around me and I knew in that moment that he knew, even though he didn’t say anything.

“And I was terrified. I expected to wake up the next the day to an empty house, but there he was in the kitchen making breakfast just like always. Still, I couldn’t even look at him and when I got up to leave he stopped me, tilted my face up so that he could look in my eyes, and all he said was ‘I see you, Master Bruce.’

“I see you,” Bruce repeated the phrase to himself, thinking of that moment, those words. How much they had meant to him back then. How much they still meant to him, even now.

“It was all he needed to say,” he continued. “And I realized then that I hadn’t fooled him for a second. He knew that things had changed, that I couldn’t be the boy I had been before. He saw all of that damage – those broken parts in me – and he stayed anyway. I didn’t have try to be something I wasn’t or worry about scaring him away. I could just be. And God, it was like I could breathe again.”

Bruce didn’t realize he’d begun to well up until he felt a tear hit his hand. He wiped his eyes, mildly surprised at himself, then looked to find Jason staring at him, wide-eyed. “What I mean is, I may not always understand you, and I know I’m not the perfect father or ally or whatever it is you see me as these days. But I see you, Jay. All of you. And I’ll never give you another reason to think otherwise.”

Jason’s face went red and he turned away, muttering, “Whatever,” before dragging a chair up near Bruce’s and dropping into it with a heavy flump. "Just stop."

Bruce risked clapping the younger man on the shoulder and giving him a quick squeeze. When Jason didn’t recoil from it, he let his hand linger there a second longer than necessary, struggling to remember the last time they had touched like this, before letting go.

#AllOurBrokenParts #batfam fanfic #batfam fanfiction #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson whump #hurt/comfort #angst #dick grayson

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