#ask for blood pressure medication. god knows you stress me the fuck out enough to need it. jesus

[beesantennas]

from this tweet:

[jakexneytiri]

Ask no further!! Here it is, yours truly the humble narrator for you this morning!!! Its kind of long cause I dream writers-style and it sucks-lol

----------

It was late, my eyes prying open as I pulled my head up and off the metal surface, the digital clock upon my desk burning bright with red digits. '6:47AM'  The numbers looked like a throbbing headache, this being what my mind registered as the fifth time I'd checked to see if I had finished my paperwork. One page, crinkled and half written, remained before me. I could see the blur in my eyes before I realized multiple tears had began to fall out of frustration, my voice echoed within my mind, frustration apparent to myself. 'I've been here hours! Why does this shit keep coming!?'  My hands came up to wipe my eyes, the stress steaming off of me through the lab coat I had resting over me. "I've walked by here four times already.." A voice all too familiar to me spoke, Texan accent ringing as I turned to peer over my monitor. "Wha..?" I blinked, readjusted my glasses to sit straight on the bridge of my nose, "Uh, a-are you looking for someone?" I was partially aware of what could happen, my dreams usually had a way of letting me know how I could shift a situation.

I ignored them all, totally enamored by how much detail was put into such a lucid one. The colonel looked like he'd just gotten back from a mission, wifebeater stained in bluish-red blood that trailed down to his dirt-stained cargo pants, it looked brutal. "Aren't you one of the science pukes that actually knows how to care for the avatar bodies?" It wasn't for what my mind had concurred, I cursed myself. "Are you done with your plant bullshit yet, I don't have all damn night?!" He sneered, obviously becoming impatient, which caused me to stand quickly, blatantly ignoring my desk head of hair and indents from how I'd passed out. "I'm sorry, here, come on this way to the back." I tried to sound less intimidated, less bitchy, less attitude that I usually give. (Believe me, fuck with me about sleep I'll end your life.)

As I gloved up, winding around the table that the tall creature chose to sit on, I snuck glances at him, watching his movements to reveal his state of undress to me. It was large, the wound, a gash about the length of my whole arm from shoulder to fingertip and it was lightly oozing blood. "What did this? Viper-Wolf?" It was a shot in the dark, but the gash had ridges, "Yeah, after I was chased by some god-damn monkeys.." His voice grumbled, the vibration falling down and through my hands as I cleaned the dried blood off. As for my response, I only hummed, not too sure what he'd want in return other than a reason to get upset or worse. Soon I was finally ready to begin stitching the wound, the needle in it's curve softly pierced his flesh and he hissed, low, pained with a small grunt. His gaze burned so harshly into the top of my head that I could feel my brain melting inside, his large hand coming to roughly pat down its hold onto my shoulder as I threaded through him for the fifth time, tugging the clear string lightly back to hear him purr, "Good girl.." from the depths of his chest, "Take your time.." I swallowed audibly, gaining further anxiousness while my hands aimed the tool back and shifted it through him again.

___Visual Cutscene___ (Ill cut the banter short babies- But yeah, I'm a smartass and that's why were here now-)

Soon, I found myself pinned between him and the medical table, the metal tinging slightly with every time my lab coats buttons brushed against the table-legs. My thighs had been hoisted up and gripped at the knee, folding me roughly in half against the plush of my breasts almost enough to hurt due to the pressure against my lungs. His grin imprinted itself in my head, I whimpered at the sight of his eyes narrowing at me, challenging me to peer down ever so slightly to see the sight of something so incredibly large that my head would turn to putty at just the tip.. "Still think you're tough shit, princess?" He teased, head poking lightly at my thigh through my tights, which had been ripped during the process of his manhandling, his shaft trailed down to the tear at my entrance, the slick already unbearably wet and coating everything. "Always will, until proven wrong.." I replied, face still cherry red. "Good.." He drawled, finally plunging into me, my vision instantly going white-

THEN I FUCKING WOKE UP!!!!!

Thank you for coming to my ted talk!!

OH MY GOD?????????? I WISH I COULD REMEMBER MY DREAMS THIS VIVIDLY BC FUCK

[ghoulangerlee]

Ohhhhh my god I feel you on this whole bc shot thing. I've been on it for a little over two years because I'm trans and getting my period was so bad for my emotional wellbeing I had to do something. I didn't wand an IUD, and I forget to take my medication a lot so the pill wasn't ideal. I was told by two different obgyns that they wouldn't consider removing the uterus becsuse at the time I was only 21 and ""What if you chsnge your mind!!!"" 🙄🙄🙄🙄 so I really dint have a whole lot of options.

On one hand I like not having to worry about the whole thing for 10/11 weeks at a time but on the other hand I also really like not having feeble bones! I've been taking calcium supplements but the pills are huge and I worry it isn't covering the issue entirely. I don't get enough calcium to begin with becsuse I can't drink milk and stuff, so I worry that it's a bandage on a knife wound so to speak.

Last time I was at the clinic for my shot I raised the issue again and the doctor there was like "wait you're literally trans and have no plans for children why the hell don't we just get rid of it????" And I'm just sitting there like why the fuck did the last two people I see not give me this option!?

Anyways I need to discuss the idea more with her but oh oh to get this fucking thing out of me....oh to dream....

Sorry rambling in your asks but this sucks and I sure hope we both get the cool fun and fresh resolution :)

oh my god anon, i feel you. i've been on it for...almost 5 years now? I think around August 2019 is when I started it finally. It was unfortunately the only option we could find for me. I actually can't have any bc that has actual estrogen in it because of my high blood pressure and the family history of blood clots. And like, at first it was fine and dandy! I was okay with it because after 7 weeks of a heavy cycle I was so exhausted and just ready for it to be over. And it's been gone! pretty regularly for the last several years.

Sometimes if I'm incredibly stressed it will sneak up on me but it's like, leagues better than it was. Max 3 days and barely anything at all. So, very manageable for someone who y'know. had it much worse (to the point it would cause my iron to drop significantly all the time).

I hate obgyns who refuse to do things because "you might regret it later on" like, no actually I think I'll regret having this thing inside my body I don't intend to use and having to stay on the shot for the rest of my life. I'm in a same-sex relationship, I don't ever intend to physically carry a child, I just want the thing gone lmao. I've told obgyns that in the past and yet they still insisted on telling me that I might "regret" it.

So, my surgeon did mention that viactiv is a good supplement, which is apparently a chocolate calcium chew haha. My biggest concern is that I have osteoarthritis and being over 30 now, my bone density doesn't come back as fast as it does for someone in their 20s. My doctor is also concerned about it too. I mean like also the weight gain is terrible too, like holy shit it's been the worst (strong ass bc, strong ass side effects I GUESS)

THOUGH APPARENTLY there is a bone density therapy that they can do which will help with keeping your bones strong. I didn't know about it and no one ever thought to mention it to me when they started talking about my bone density lmao. Normal Calcium supplements make me extremely nauseous and I can't take them, so I just stopped lmao.

And I think from there, that's when I sort of decided I wanted to look into getting rid of my uterus for good. Like, I don't plan to have kids, I don't need it. Why should I continue this shot, why should I keep putting myself through this.

Also, idk if you've experienced it, or if its just because I been on it for so long or if it's something else entirely, but in place of the period I just get cramps :) really bad ones :) it's great and what I've always wanted from bc haha.

honestly that's a good doctor, why haven't they suggested it sooner? Literally the surgeon I'm seeing is, ironically, the first obgyn I saw when I switched insurances and go to where I go now, and from the beginning she was like "you're in a monogamous same-sex relationship whenever you want the surgery we can just take care of that" and idk I wasn't in the right place then, I think, to consider it.

yeah it's a long process from my understanding, we're building a case right now, as my surgeon called it, gonna have some imaging stuff done, a few more tests and then we'll set the date and just. remove it. thankfully, no early menopause for me (ironically the One Thing i was most worried about?? I don't know, I've got so much going on, I didn't want to even consider dealing with menopause bc guess what the treatment for that is-- the same damn shot I'm trying to escape lmao) ANON!!! I wish the best for both of us!!! Let me know how things go!! (if you're comfortable!!)

[winterscaptain]

through and through.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: this is our ajf minimal loss fic! as (usually) usual, its more fun if you read the rest of the series, but this one stands on its own just fine. lemme know what you think!!

words: 5.8k warnings: canon-typical violence, death, and injury, language, aaron Flexing on These Hoes™

summary: the septarian sect ranch situation is hard enough with the memories of waco. the knowledge you’re in danger, along with reid and prentiss, has aaron on edge. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Everyone just stay calm!” 

Nancy turns, assuring you with a naive and placating smile, “I’m state police. I’m an officer of the state.” 

Stupid. Stupid!

“Well, there’s nothing we can do right now.” Emily, ever the voice of reason, assures from behind you. 

“We just have to calm down.” Your useless attempt at de-escalation is overrun by gunfire. 

“I can talk to him.” Lunde turns to go, and you reach for the back of her shirt, trying to pull her back. 

You manage to get past the goons in the front, while they stop Emily. There’s only one chance. “No, Nancy! Wait.” 

As you run after her out of the tunnel to the main level, you give her more and more space. The noise and smoke is a little overwhelming and you almost lose her in your confusion and distraction. Cyrus shouts to cease fire, but it’s in vain. The gunfire echoes around you, and you can’t help but think of Aaron. 

What if I don’t come home? 

She rushes to the front of the building, by the window, and addresses Benjamin. “Mr. Cyrus, let me talk to them.” 

You catch up to here in the chapel, reaching for her arm to pull her back to safety when something stops you. You can’t feel it at first, but when you watch Lunde drop to the ground, you know. 

Fuck. 

Hitting the deck right away, you put pressure on the gunshot wound that’s torn through your left shoulder. You breathe deeply, fighting the panic you know will only hurt you more. The shock still numbs the pain and when you look, it seems through and through. The back of your blazer is ripped through, and there’s a hole in the wall behind you. 

That’s a comfort. 

The last thing you needed was a .223 round bouncing around in your chest. You’re grateful enough it didn’t tear your arm off entirely.

You crawl around the corner and press yourself against the wall. With a groan, you remove your blazer and tie it around your shoulder as best you can. You chance a glance at Nancy, but she's already gone - unseeing eyes turned toward the ceiling, her hand limp on the carpet, blood blossoming across the chest of her teal blouse.

Damn it.

Cyrus’s men shout around you, and it feels more and more like an active warzone with every passing second  

“Man down, man down! We can’t stay here!” 

“Hold your fire!” 

You breathe as deeply as you can, tucking your arm to your belly and closing your eyes. The gunfire slowly ceases, the movement around you becoming only a little less frantic. 

Aaron will know. He’ll find us. We’ll be okay. 

Your shoulder twinges. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and you only hope you go into shock soon for the sake of your pain tolerance. 

Aaron, please. Please hurry. 

+++

“Morgan.” JJ bursts through the glass doors and unmutes the television in the corner. 

“What’s up?” 

She increases the volume, and they hear, “... a routine question and answers meeting by Colorado Child Services has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Septarian Sect.” 

Morgan stands, ready to leap into action. “JJ...That’s not the ranch were -”

“They’re still inside.” 

Derek’s voice rockets across the office as he calls for Hotch, who immediately ends his call and leaves his office, leaning heavily on the banister. Derek tells him you’re still in there, with Reid and Prentiss. 

“...at least three child services members are still trapped inside the compound.” 

No. 

Aaron swallows heavily, 

Keep your head, Hotcher. It’ll be okay. 

Phones start ringing all at once. Everyone looks to Aaron, and he’s already back in his office, grabbing his things. He flies back out, blazer slung over his shoulder and go bag in-hand. “Wheels up. Now.” 

+++

You watch as they haul Lunde’s body out of the way. Someone helps you to your feet. You’re feeling pretty dizzy. 

“Can I have some water? Please?” You know for certain you’re in shock now, and keeping your blood pressure and volume high enough is the only way you’ll make it out alright.

“We’ll get you what you need after we take you back to your people.” 

There’s always been a little part of you that believes in the nugget of humanity in people. Today, it might just save your life.

Emily rushes to you as you step down into the basement. Reid hovers, nervous and watchful. Emily’s voice is steady. “We need water and medical attention.” 

“First aid kit is in the corner.” Cyrus points and Reid jets off to grab it while Cyrus continues giving direction. Someone hands her three bottles of water, and she sets them by your side.

Emily’s hand flutters over your forehead, as if checking you for fever. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Through and through. Just gotta stop the bleeding.” You know you’re slurring your words a little bit, but it’s not as bad as it could be. 

“I prayed this day would never come, but it has.” Cyrus shoulders a rifle. “God will see us through.”

Fuck. 

Cyrus’s eyes linger on you and Emily a little longer than is comfortable, but that’s the least of your worries. Spencer returns with the kit, pulling out packing gauze and wrapping. 

Emily helps you with your blazer and shirt, leaving your shoulder exposed to the mountain air. Spencer packs your wound while Emily starts wrapping the gauze around your ribs and shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

You put a hand on her arm. “I know. Thanks.”

+++

Hotch comes to a screaming stop in the SUV, his suit jacket long gone in the Colorado heat. He immediately makes assignments. “Dave, I’m making you lead negotiator.”

“Me?” Dave asks. 

“Why go to the students when I have the teacher?” Aaron’s eyes are probing and hold all the respect in the world for his dear friend. 

“Because the teacher is emotionally involved!” Dave cants his head toward the compound, and Aaron’s eyes follow, as if searching for you. Dave’s eyes stay steady on Aaron - watching him look for you. “And so is the Agent in Charge.”

With a defeated sigh, Aaron cops to it. “I know I am. This is a unique situation.” At Dave’s squint, he continues. “We have three agents who could affect the outcome on the inside.” His voice is low and riddled with tension. The concern radiates off of him in waves, and he can only hope it passes as concern for the whole team. 

In truth, it’s almost all for you. He can’t explain it, but he knows something isn’t right.

“I can’t be objective. I know them too well.” Dave does everything he can to pull Aaron from direct control, but he knows it's a lost cause. More than one part of him knows why. 

Aaron’s jaw tightens, and he’s more intense than before when he replies, “This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of our team as Cyrus. That’s why you’re the best man for the job.” 

“Assuming they’re still in a position to make moves.” 

The thought is near-unbearable. He softens, taking another approach. 

“I know how bad this is. That’s why I want you doing the talking.”

“Alright.” 

Aaron claps Dave on the shoulder, and it’s a silent thanks. Before they can move, there’s more commotion around the back of the FBI staging area. 

Goddamn it. What now?

“...I’m sorry sir, I’m under direct orders from the FBI.” 

Dave and Aaron share a glance, and Aaron leads the way to the argument. 

“I’m the Attorney General of this state.” 

He can’t help it. A smirk crosses Aaron’s face. 

Lawyers. Alright. I can do lawyers. 

There’s also a part of him relieved that he can offload some of this stress into some kind of altercation. An opportunity to flex his Juris Doctorate never hurts. 

“I demand to know why I wasn’t told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Septarian Ranch -”

Alright. That’s it. 

Aaron turns, an insulting kind of disbelief on his face. Steadily and without haste, he approaches. “The only thing that you’re in the position to demand is a lawyer.” A spike of anger strikes his chest. 

He knew about this raid. He knew and he failed to tell us. 

And now his people are in trouble. 

You are in trouble. 

“Who the hell are you?” The overblown AG turns on Aaron. 

Big mistake. 

“I’m Aaron Hotchner. Unit Chief. I’m the guy who’s gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” 

And it’s not an empty threat, dipshit. 

“You can’t talk to me like that.” Was that a smug smile on his face? 

Aaron steps up to him, nearly nose to nose. The adrenaline and anger and fear floods through him and leaks through his words. “Get off my crime scene.” 

Hard brown eyes stare down weak blue ones. Aaron wins. 

+++

“Then leave us alone.” Cyrus’s voice belies no tension as he paces. Your eyes follow him, much more alert now that much of the bleeding has stopped and you have some water in you. Emily strapped ice to your shoulder about twenty minutes ago. You might end up with a little nerve damage, but it's better than bleeding to death. 

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin.” Dave takes a breath, delivering the information steadily. “One of the police bled out on the way to the hospital. So let’s just stop this before things get worse.”

Aaron’s brows, already low, get even lower. Derek, hovering behind Rossi, takes note. The tension in his unit chief is different and he doesn’t know what it is. 

“Please,” Dave continues, “just put down your guns and come out.”

A buzzing takes over Aaron’s senses for a moment, and he shakes his head to rid himself of it. He reaches down for a bottle of water, downing half of it before he puts it back down. 

“Now, the four child service workers…” That catches Aaron’s attention, and he snaps to. “One of them is dead. It wasn’t us.” 

You bite your lip, watching Benjamin pace near the door. That phrasing will do nothing but panic your team, and you know it. Tipping your head against the wall behind you, you throw out anything you can. 

I’m alright, Aaron. We’re okay. 

Aaron’s head drops and he wets his lips. He closes his eyes, doing his best to keep himself from running straight for the compound. 

No. Please. I’ll get what I get for wishing it’s someone else, but please let it be someone else. Anyone else.

What if it was Prentiss?

What if it was Reid? 

Guilt floods him and he pushes the thoughts aside. 

Dave keeps his voice clear and even. The depth of Aaron’s gratitude and respect is ineffable. There’s nobody better for the job. “I need a name to inform the family.”

“Her name was Nancy Lunde.” 

Aaron nearly collapses in relief, pushing away the guilt as it rises in his sternum. 

“One service worker was shot in the same altercation, but we have provided medical care and the wound is non-lethal.” 

Say my name. Say my name, please. 

He doesn’t, and you grind your teeth together. 

Dave nods, glancing at Aaron. “Okay. Now, please, Benjamin, send out your wounded, including the injured service worker. I promise they’ll be taken care of.”

“With enough supplies, we can tend to our own.” 

“Okay, I’ll need a few hours to put them together. I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

You can’t hear what Dave says on the other end of the line, but Cyrus’s lack of reaction can only be a good thing. 

“You should get some sleep.” Emily, sitting next to you, checks over your wound again. Spencer’s on your other side with his eyes closed, but you know he’s not sleeping either. 

Closing your eyes, you reply, “I can’t.” Nevertheless, you reach for her hand. She slips her fingers into your palm. “Mm. Your hands are warm.” 

“Well, yeah. I didn’t get shot today.” She’d usually jostle you with a jab like that, but she knows better - obviously. 

+++

When first light comes, you open your eyes. You’re not sure, but it was likely you got at least a couple of hours of sleep. There’s a lot you don’t remember from the night before, but you know they shuffled you up to the chapel at some point. 

Probably a good thing. 

The ice has melted and your arm is all wet. You check your dressings and find them working well enough. They’ll still have to be changed, but you can’t deny the effectiveness of Emily’s instruction and handiwork. 

A car door closes outside. Emily stirs, immediately reaching for a nearby bottle of water. She hands it to you after she takes a couple of sips. Shuffling around Spencer, you take it with your good arm and drink as much as you can. 

Wait. Didn’t Spencer say you could do a transfusion with coconut water?

Do I even need a transfusion? 

Yes. 

Oh. Thanks. 

A knock on the door startles you out of your half-delirious thoughts. You’re grateful for the distraction. The feeling increases tenfold when Dave walks into the chapel.

Aaron’s nearby. It’ll be okay. He probably put Dave on this himself. 

“The children, and our guests.” Cyrus gestures to you, proving to Dave that everyone is in fact, relatively, alright. 

You turn your head (ouch) and meet Dave’s eyes. Looking back down, you’re satisfied he knows you’re alive. 

“I was hoping you’d let me take the children,” Dave says. 

Benjamin shakes his head. “Nah. They’re our protection.” 

We are, too, dumbass. 

The two men chat for a moment. Your heart feels like it grows three sizes as you listen to Dave do what he does best. 

It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. 

You have to believe it. 

After Dave leaves, they make you stand off to the side while they pour wine for everyone present. Emily starts whispering, and you know she’s profiling the adults. It’s probably smart, but all your energy is focused on remaining upright and ignoring the throbbing ache in your shoulder. 

+++

Dave jogs back up to the staging area and assures them you’re all okay. He relays your condition to Aaron, “...but it looks alright. Well-dressed and not bleeding through.” 

Aaron nods. So that’s what the feeling was. You’re alright, but it’s still wrong. He shoves down something else that scares him a little. 

That’s a problem for another time. 

Is it a problem, though?

Yes. 

“He’s too calm. It’s - It’s like he was waiting for this to happen and now that it has, he feels vindicated.” 

Aaron rounds the table and comes to rest at Dave’s side. They’re in full strategy mode. The opportunity to stretch their abilities is welcome, but they both wish it was under better circumstances with lower stakes. 

His hands flutter uselessly at his sides. Restless energy still rockets around his limbs and he hates it. He hates feeling so deeply out of control. 

“I have a signal!” 

Derek, Dave, and Aaron flock to their headphones, tuning in just in time to hear Cyrus inform the congregation they have all ingested the poison together. 

+++

Emily’s eyes shoot around the room, and you know what she’s thinking. 

The profile didn’t indicate mass suicide…

This doesn’t fit

He continues to deliver his sermon and you tune out, focused on the faces of Cyrus’s followers. Right now, they’re more revealing than he’ll ever be. 

+++

“This doesn’t fit.” 

Dave voices Aaron’s thoughts exactly. It quickly devolves into discussion of a breach, and Aaron brings a hand to his forehead. He’s ready to go. 

“If we go into there, people are going to die.” 

Aaron’s hand flies out to the  side. “People are already dying.”

Rossi’s eyebrows raise, and Aaron tries to keep his hackles down.

+++

“What do we do?” Emily whispers. 

Spencer shakes his head. “Nothing.” 

“We have to do something,” you hiss. “These people just took poison.” 

“Cyrus just told them he did and I think he’s bluffing.” 

Emily’s brow crumples. “Why do you think that?”

Spencer’s following observations make sense - the notes, the watching armed bystanders. It’s strategically sound for Cyrus to weed out the weak in his congregation. 

After a moment, Cyrus admits it was a test of faith. “...Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother’s keeper.”

+++

Frustrated, Aaron runs his hands through his hair. “Tell ‘em to stand down.” 

The tension is getting to him, as is the lack of sleep. Dave made him lay down overnight, but he never once closed his eyes. He was worried about Prentiss. He was worried about Reid. 

He was worried about you. 

I almost got all of them killed. 

Step it up, Hotchner. You chose Dave for a reason. 

Listen to him. 

+++

“...well into its second day, the standoff at the Septarian Sept ranch has now been taken over by the FBI. There was much speculation in regard to hostages…”

Aaron hovers behind JJ, completely tuned in to the news. This could be disastrous. 

“...But anonymous sources inside the state attorney general’s office have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the Septarian Sect ranch.” 

This is disastrous. 

Everyone reacts, but Aaron walks away. He can’t face this right now. There’s too much to do, too much to think about. 

Don’t do anything stupid. 

He only hopes you can hear him, somehow. 

Please don’t be a hero. 

+++

Cyrus enters, all bluster and confidence. 

Shit. Something happened. 

“Which one of you is it?”

You all just stare at him. He pulls a gun from his waistband and you jump a little. The movement twinges your shoulder, and you let out a small wince. 

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Spencer is the first to speak. “Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?”

Yikes, Spence. Question for a question. 

Wait. Maybe it will work. 

Something in you tells you to keep your mouth shut, and you do. The last thing you want is to screw up whatever Spencer’s cooking up. His brain moves a lot faster than yours. 

Don’t do anything stupid. 

“God will forgive me for what I must do.” 

You can feel your eyes widen as Cyrus raises the gun to Spencer’s head. You’re completely frozen, as if something’s physically holding you in place. 

Don’t be a hero.

You’ve been shot, idiot. Your shock response is all over the place. 

No, it’s different. 

Yeah. Sure. 

You roll your eyes at yourself, but quickly cover it by crinkling your face up in what you hope looks like confusion. 

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Cyrus looks at you and you shake your head, doing your best to look like a deer in headlights. “One of you does,” he says. “Who is it?”

Before you can open your mouth, Emily jumps in without hesitation. “Me. It’s me.” 

Spencer looks at her like she’s grown a second head. Cyrus lowers the gun and you take a breath. You don’t have much time to recover, though, as Cyrus snatches Emily by the hair and drags her out of the room. 

Your breath catches and you leap to your feet with Spencer. The dizziness doesn’t phase you, but your concern for Emily certainly does. 

Don’t cry. 

Don’t be a hero. 

There’s a gun to your head and you do your best to relax. You raise your good arm into the air, as if you could be a threat with a half-inch hole through your shoulder. 

Shit. 

+++

Between your gunshot wound and now listening to Emily getting the shit beat out of her, this is a bad day for Aaron. 

Someone else hauls you by your bad arm into another room, and you can’t help but yelp. They need to listen to Emily now, so you do your best to stifle the urge to cry out. You’ll answer all the questions as quietly as possible. 

They need to hear Emily. 

Aaron, please have ears in there. 

+++

Aaron very nearly throws the headphones off. He’d know your voice anywhere, even raised in pain. The overlapping cacophony of anguish breaks his chest wide open. 

“We gotta go in.” He stands and removes his headphones, unable to listen any longer. 

Rossi shakes his head, still tuned in. “We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.” 

+++

You can hear Emily through the wall, and you bite your tongue until it bleeds. The man (who still has a hold on your arm), throws you into a chair. You let out a small wail, but cover your mouth with your good hand before speaking. “Please, I -”

“Did you know?”

“No. No.” They need to hear Emily. 

“Tribulation breeds resilience,” the man says, dropping close to you. His thumb digs into your wound. It’s too much and you internally apologize to Aaron as you let out a sob. “God rewards the resilient. He rewards those who cleanse themselves of evil.”

“Please -” 

He shakes you and man does it hurt. The pain shoots from your shoulder to your fingertips and zings all the way down your back. You’re hot and cold at the same time and don’t have the energy to fight it anymore. You break down, and sound falls from your mouth as the man continues to preach at you, all the while tweaking and twisting and squeezing your shoulder. 

+++

“He’s got them both.” Aaron stands, his palms pressed flat to the table. Hearing you in that kind of pain ignites something white-hot in his chest. He hurts for Emily, too, but at least she’s still able to talk. 

“I can take it.” Emily’s voice rings clear through the headphones, and they all freeze.

“Wait - Wait. Listen to what she’s saying.” Dave gestures to Aaron, who reluctantly tunes back in. 

“I can take it.” 

Derek scoffs. “She’s antagonizing him.”

“She’s not talking to him.” Rossi remains firm. 

Aaron’s hands get lost in his hair, restless and frustrated and useless. He takes a breath and ignores the sting behind his eyes. “She’s talking to us. She’s telling us not to come in.” 

He knows Emily. She’s just as smart as she is strong and wouldn’t antagonize Benjamin on her own. 

There’s a particularly vicious commotion and Emily falls to the ground with a sharp groan and a cough. 

That’s it for Derek. He throws his headphones off and starts to pace. Aaron’s the only one who leaves the headphones on. Even then, his eyes mist up and his jaw is so tight he’s almost afraid his teeth will shatter. 

+++

You slump back against the chair. “I’m sorry she lied to you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words choke out of you with a gasp. Your shoulder screams and the pain is truly breathtaking. 

Emily will forgive you for throwing her under the bus - you know you’d forgive her if the situation was reversed. 

Cyrus throws the door open. “The agent’s going upstairs. The other two are clean.” He looks at you with a certain degree of contempt and you keep your eyes on the floor. 

Don’t do anything stupid. 

Don't be a hero. 

Why those two phrases keep echoing around in your head, you have no idea. Nevertheless, they’re both good reminders. 

You’re returned to Spencer and slide into a chair. You tip your head back against the wall and listen to Cyrus question him. 

Why didn’t Spencer get beat up?

Not that you wanted Spencer to get beat up, of course, but it all seemed a little inequitable. You’d already been shot - isn’t that enough excitement for one day?

“On the next call, you should test them.” 

Oh, how I love you, Spencer Reid. 

He continues. “Test the negotiator. Make him prove he isn’t a liar.” 

This would only work if they had ears in the building. If Spencer has faith, so do you. Tears prick at your eyes and you think of Aaron. 

Please tell me he didn’t hear me. Please tell me they only had ears on Emily. 

You’re still the baby of the team, the newest, the youngest. You know that’s why Aaron watches out for you so carefully. He’s just protecting you. 

At least, that’s what you choose to believe. The other option is ridiculous, absurd, and nothing but wishful thinking. 

Don’t be a child. 

Spencer has Cyrus right where he wants him. You suppress a smile and hope it passes as a grimace. 

“What about you?” Cyrus turns on you and you’re proud when you don’t flinch. “What do you think?”

You shrug with your one good shoulder. “It’s a good idea, and the offer to exchange a child for information is a show of good faith. I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.” 

+++

Dave and Aaron share a glance. 

“They’ve got him.” 

A swell of pride crashes through Aaron’s chest. It’s just because you’re his youngest agent - the most time, the most potential. He has to keep you safe, he reasons. It’s the right thing to do. 

That’s not the only reason. 

He shakes his head, but the thought has its claws dug in deep. 

+++

As Cyrus reads the list of names, Emily appears at your side again. 

She looks awful - half her face painted with red and purple bruises, with more blossoming under her collar. You almost laugh aloud when she asks, “Are you okay?”

“Emily, you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

She huffs. “I didn’t get shot. Just a little beat up. We’re good. It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

Spencer’s mouth presses into a thin line. You both know she’s lying. “I’m so sorry.” Moments later, he relays the information for both your ears and your team outside. 

Cyrus looks at you, and you almost think he’s going to let you go, but his gaze slides past you. Spencer approaches him and they speak in hushed tones. 

When they’re through, Cyrus gestures to Emily and a pair of goons. “Take her back.”  

Emily looks only the slightest bit alarm as she’s taken back upstairs by the arm. If Spencer’s in, and Emily’s out, where does that leave you?

You elect yourself Reid’s shadow, silent and always right off his shoulder. Cyrus doesn’t seem to mind too much and if he does, he doesn’t show it. 

+++

“Drugging the food isn’t an option because of the children. We’ll have to go in.” The whiteboard marker twirls between Aaron’s fingers as he thinks. 

Indeed. Rossi, from his place in the corner, says, “The best time to hit them is when they’re least mentally prepared.”

“3am. Biorhythms are at their low point, then.”

“We need a diversion,” Derek notes. “Something that plays into his expectations.” 

Humvees, then, are clearly on the docket. As are bright lights and all the flash and glamour of federal law enforcement. 

Hotch and Morgan begin to volley, both men processing and paying close attention. 

“The plan depends on our people separating the diehards from the followers -” 

Derek interrupts, finishing Aaron’s thought. “And delaying Cyrus’s diehards from reacting to our assault.” 

“No, that’s not my main concern. They know what they need to do.” 

“So what is your concern?”

“Letting them know when we’re coming. The whole thing hinges on them being ready for us at 3am.” A thought comes to him then, and he reaches for a sharpie and a lid. Maybe your weird understanding of each other will come in handy, or Spencer will be looking for those signs he alluded to with Cyrus. 

Either way, it’s the only option. 

+++

Downstairs with Spencer, something catches your eye. 

Wait a minute. 

You’d know that blocky, left-hand slanted lettering anywhere. Aaron. 

Spencer sees it, too, and you share a glance. You offer him a little smile, and he nods, understanding you completely. This might just work. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Cyrus startles you a little, and you step closer to Spencer. Your wound dressing has yet to be changed today, and the heat radiating off your shoulder has made you a little jumpy.

Just my luck to survive all of this and die of an entirely treatable infection like a sickly Victorian child. 

 “You don’t have to be a part of this. You can go.” He addresses the both of you, and bite your tongue again. You have to trust Spencer’s plan, and you know he has one. 

As you suspected, Spencer says, “I would prefer to stay. Somebody needs to tell your story.” 

“I’m glad it will be you.” Cyrus turns his gaze to you, and you nod. 

“I’ll stay.” 

He softens a little, and calls someone over. In what feels like seconds, you’re sitting down while gentle hands clean and re-dress your wound. It hurts like all hell, but you’d rather do this than throw the whole damn arm out. 

As you sit, Cyrus’s plan becomes clear. Explosives seem to pass from hand to hand without hesitation. 

Where’s Emily? 

+++

Aaron has no idea how long he’s been staring at the compound. He’s wound tighter than a spring, his body all straight lines of stress as Rossi approaches him. 

Finally, Aaron says, “I know I can’t go in there.” There’s too much at stake, too much on the line, too many emotions. He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind in a place he won’t acknowledge, that he would prioritize you. 

So, he can’t go in there. 

Dave nods. “I’m going.”

“If something happens to Prentiss or Reid or…” he trails off, unable to speak the thought aloud. “I - I don’t know.”

Dave looks over at him, understanding all the things he can and can’t say. “You’re not alone.”

+++

You can feel a shift in the air as 3am creeps nearer and nearer. Outside, inside, it’s all alive with activity and anxiety. You hug your arm to your chest, nursing a bottle of water. With fresh dressings, you feel a little cleaner, a little safer, but you know it’s an illusion. 

“Something’s wrong.” The goon’s observation brings Cyrus to the front window, and even over his shoulder you can see the humvees advancing on the compound. 

Nice work, team. 

“They lied to us,” he whispers something to his shadow. While Cyrus grabs his firearm, the shadow opens the door. The gunfire startles you, and you look to Spencer. 

Tell me it’s gonna be okay. 

His eyes are steady on yours and he nods almost imperceptibly. We’re going to be fine. 

Some of the lights go out and your eyes dance around the room. 

Aaron, this better be part of your plan. 

“It came from inside the building.” 

“Check the fuses.” 

The rapid discussions fly around you, but you keep your eyes on Spencer as much as you can. He’s spitting verses at the men around Cyrus, stalling. Luckily, Spencer could talk about nothing and everything forever. 

You knew that would come in handy one day, even if it drives you up the wall outside of life-or-death hostage situations. 

“...I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Cyrus smacks Spencer with the butt of his rifle, and Spencer doubles over. You can’t help him - not with one arm and certainly not without a weapon of your own. 

“You cannot convert my brothers.” Cyrus hits him again, and Spencer drops to the floor, and you crouch beside him, the very picture of fear. Oddly, you’re less afraid right now than you were before. “No one had to follow. God could have stopped me.”

There’s a breach, and you cover Spencer with your body as bullets fly past you from all sides. Cyrus goes down, and so does the detonator. 

“He just did.” 

You almost snort as you rise, but you rapidly remember time is of the essence. 

“You alright, kid?” You’re not sure if Derek’s talking to you or Spencer, but you nod anyway. 

Spencer, too, responds in kind. “Fine. Where’s Emily?”

“We got her out of here.” 

The breath you’ve been holding since she disappeared again leaves you, but a heavy throb of your shoulder replaces it. 

The girl you’re here for in the first place, Jessica, rounds the corner and you have a sinking feeling you know exactly what she’s going to do. Nevertheless, Derek calls out to her. “Sweetheart, come with me. We need to get you out of here. Come on. Let’s go, right now.” 

You snag Spencer’s sweater in your hand and follow him to the door. You watch as Jessica takes in Cyrus’s body, clocks the detonator, and then reaches for it. Spencer leaves your grasp.

You’re hot on his heels and it’s only then you have another fleeting thought of not making it back home. 

“Run!”

Derek’s behind you. You only hope it’s enough time. 

The explosion rocks you to your core and for a moment you’re not sure whether you’re alive or dead. When the ringing in your ears cools off, Derek has his arm around you. The smoke covers everything. Your eyes burn, coughs rattling through your chest and wracking your shoulder. 

You hear your last name, as well as Derek’s and Spencer’s. It’s Emily. 

She’s scared. 

Derek helps you straighten, and guides you down the steps. “We’re alright!”

You still can’t talk for your coughing, but you hear Emily’s relieved, “Oh, God.” 

She meets you in the middle while Aaron waits at the bottom of the stairs. He’s watching you. Emily touches the side of your face and you lean into it. You’re a little on the outside as she gathers Spencer into her arms. 

There’s something going on by Aaron, but you can’t quite hear it yet. Whatever it is, it’s over before Aaron’s hand is extended toward you. When your fingers meet his palm, he brings you close, careful of your shoulder. His hand meets the back of your head, and you press your face into his neck, blocking out as much as you can.

You don’t exchange words. There’s no need. 

He tucks you under his arm and you pass Jessica’s mother, watching the burning compound with bewildered eyes. 

+++

You sleep on the plane, your head resting against the window. Just as you suspected, you developed a small infection on the last day in the compound, but it’s nothing two weeks’ worth of antibiotics can’t fix. 

Hotch sits beside you, pretending to read something or another. His eyes keep tracking the same line over and over again. The moments where he thought he’d lost all three of you to the explosion plays back in his mind again and again and again. 

You can hear him thinking and you crack an eyelid. “Hotch.”

He immediately turns his head, ready to get whatever you need. Frankly, you look miserable. “Yeah?”

“We’re fine.” 

An eyebrow raises. 

“Fine. I’m shot and Emily’s beat to hell, but we’re alive.” You reach for his sleeve, running your fingers over the fabric. “I think you saved my ass, by the way.”

You pull your hand back. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Something in me kept telling me ‘Don’t do anything stupid!’ ‘Don’t be a hero!’ and I’m certain it can be attributed to your undue influence on me.”

The corners of his lips turn up just the tiniest amount. “Maybe so.” He slips his blazer off and drapes it over you. “Sleep. You need it.” He sees you about to interrupt him and cuts you off. “If I see you in the office at all before next week…” The empty threat speaks for itself. 

“Trust me. After my near-death experience, the last thing I want to be looking at is you.”��

Liar. 

“The feeling is mutual. You look terrible.” He smiles for real this time and you return it. A whisper passes through his head, and he pretends he doesn’t notice. 

Liar. 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless​ @jdougl-love​ @sageellsworth05​ @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky​ @writerxinthedark @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild  @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321

[jpegjade]

Hot Coco (Part 2) - Spencer

random but i finished hot coco part 2 while procrastinating a paper!!! 

warnings: talks about medication and a panic attack but that’s it. 

genre: fluff. a little angsty 

word count: hella. 

Hot coco part 1 - Here

enjoy!

*****

“I hate this.” You muttered, bouncing your leg.

The anxiety filling the air, you noticed every detail about the room and it made you nervous. The little girl across from you wouldn’t stop staring and her mom didn’t do anything to tell her that staring was rude. She also wouldn’t keep still, swinging her legs back and forth while yours bounced. The pictures on the walls were all a little bit crooked. You didn’t like that. You wanted to fix it. Why was it bothering you so much? Everything seemed to bother you these days, even when Spencer was home.

“You’re biting your lip and bouncing your leg. You’ve been staring at that little girl the whole time we’ve been here and you keep fidgeting with the rips in your jeans. You’re anxious about something. What’s up?” Spencer said, half whispering into your ear, trying not to disturb the quiet in the waiting room.

The waiting room wasn’t that big. It was just wide enough to fit the 6 people waiting in the room, plus you and Spencer, but not with enough breathing room. You felt suffocated in that room.

“I don’t like doctors. I especially don’t like the ones that will just tell me something’s wrong with me and classify me as something. I’m not something. I’m a goddamn person.” You angrily half whispered back. You were a little louder than Spencer so the mom of the little girl shot you beady eyes as if you cared. You had the extreme urge to flip her off and Spencer noticed your hand twitching so he grabbed it, interlacing his fingers between them.

“You can’t tell children to go fuck themselves.” Spencer whispered, grinning. “Imagine if it was the girls.”

You paused for a second, thinking about your daughters. The funniest part was that they had seen you get angry at Spencer, even if he didn’t get angry, and you screamed ‘Fuck you’ at him when he barely responded.

“Y/n Reid.” The nurse called out.

You and Spencer stood up together, walking towards the open door, following the nurse. You got your basic vitals taken, weight and blood pressure. You weren’t excited about your weight, and Spencer saw it in your face so he said your weight was “so many pounds of love for only him.” You smiled at his cheesiness, following the nurse into the psychiatrist’s office. The office was different than going to a general doctor. There was no bed for you to recline on, there were only two seats in front of a desk.

The psychiatrist was a nice enough older lady who spent her time trying to get your back story, understand your history, know more about your experiences with anxiety and stress. She just talked to you like a normal human being, not like a patient. She even laughed at some of your jokes, depending on which one you cracked. All of them were about how much you loved your husband and how outgoing your daughters were.

“Do you often have panic attacks and the medication you have doesn’t work?” She asked, scribbling on the paper.

“What medication?” You asked, wondering what you were missing out on.

“She doesn’t take medication.” Spencer said, noticing that your leg was bouncing again. It wasn’t bouncing a moment before. He put his hand on your leg and gently moved his thumb to help calm you.

“Well I’m going to give you something for the day to day anxiety and something for the panic attacks. I’ll see you in two weeks to check in, alright?” The doctor said, handing over some samples and a piece of blue paper with her handwriting on it.

Saying your goodbyes and scheduling the next appointment was a daze to you so Spencer handled it. He was used to making appointments for his mom so long ago that he already knew how things went.

The car ride home was just as frustrating as the appointment so you sat there, arms crossed, staring out into the distance. You barely registered when the two of you pulled into the driveway, parking next to Penelope’s car. Spencer turned off the engine and looked ahead while you looked out your window.

“I used to hate driving.” He said, chuckling.

“Spencer, you still hate driving.” You scrunched up your face.

“That's true. But I hate my girls not being able to get around properly, especially when my favorite girl isn’t feeling her best.” Spencer said, reaching over for your hand.

You uncrossed your arms and let Spencer hold your hand. You felt some of your anger melt away.

“Spencer, I’m broken. How am I supposed to be a good mom to the girls with these?” You shook the sample pill bottles.

“Pills don’t make you any less of a good mom. They don't make you any less of a good wife or less of a person. Honey, you just need some extra help staying regulated and calm.” Spencer kissed your hand and held it to his cheek, flashing those big puppy eyes at you.

“It’s just something else I can’t do by myself…” You said, sighing.

Tears began to prickle your eyes when you felt Spencer put his head in the crook of your neck, resting on your shoulder. His hair was fluffy on your cheek as a tear slipped and you smiled at the feeling. It must not have been comfortable to stretch his torso over the middle console but he still made the effort anyway.

“You know that having to take medication doesn’t define you, right? Needing chemical assistance isn’t a bad thing. It just means you have a need and that’s how you fill the need when I can’t be there. And when I can be there. And when the girls can be there. And when we all can be together, drinking hot chocolate and watching kids movies together.” Spencer lifted his head to kiss you on the cheek.

“That’s easy for you to say.” You sighed, wiping a tear away.

You didn’t know why this was really so frustrating to you but you knew that this was the last thing you wanted. You knew it was hard for Spencer to watch you need medication because it made him think about his mom. You didn't like the moments when you reminded him of his mom because he should only have to worry about his mom and his kids. He shouldn’t have to worry about his wife.

“Let’s go in and get some ice cream. I think you need some ice cream.” Spencer kissed your cheek again before he grabbed the bag of samples and got out of the car.

You watched as he shuffled around to your side of the car, opening the door for you. You wiped away your last tear and stepped out of the car with a deep breath. Spencer pulled you into a calming hug as soon as he closed the door, wrapping his arms around you.

“The girls are so proud of you for getting help.” Spencer said, squeezing you a little bit.

You smiled into his chest knowing he was just  saying that to make you feel better since the girls wouldn’t completely understand the full weight of what it meant to you. Honestly, all you wanted in that moment was a nap.

Spencer let you go, kissed your forehead, and grabbed your hand as the two of you walked up to the front door. As the two of you put the keys in, you heard sounds of screaming, which alerted the two of you.

Penelope was watching the girls so the fact that they were screaming wasn’t a good sign. Spencer quickly unlocked the front door, pushing it open and racing to the living room to find Penelope and the girls screaming in laughter over Halloweentown 2. A big sigh was released between the two of you before the girls noticed that you were home.

Penelope was the first to get up, carefully stepping over the action figures and dolls strewn throughout the floor, arms wide open to hug the two of you. The girls quickly followed behind, Spencer picking them up, and they stretched their little arms as big as possible to reach between their parents and Penelope.

“Did you girls have fun?” You asked as Spencer put the girls down on the floor.

“We did!” Chloe cheered, jumping up and down. She was always more excited than her sister.

"They did!" Penelope said, smiling as she walked over to get her bag.

You offered to pay her with the extra cash you took out of the ATM for her but she refused with every part of her being.

"I did it because I love my little god-daughters." She said, waving at everyone as she closed the door behind her.

You were absolutely exhausted, tired of everything, and a little depressed. You went to your room to lay down while you heard Spencer talking to the girls.

"Okay, loves of my life. It's time to clean up." There was rustling but you didn't really hear anyone move.

In a not so hushed tone, Chloe and Alexandria both asked, "What about mommy? Is she okay?"

There was quiet as you waited for Spencer to figure out how to explain everything to the girls.

"Mommy's going through a hard time right now." Spencer started.

There was more rustling.

"Why?" Alexandria asked. She was always the one to ask questions.

"There's no reason. She didn't do anything wrong. But her brain isn't very happy with life right now so we're going to be very quiet and put everything away and I'll get you girls a snack while you finish the movie." Spencer said.

After you heard giggles that brought a smile to your face, you thought about how badly you wanted to be in the room with the girls and Spencer. But then the feelings of isolation came back. The fear of ruining everything by just being in there with them, their watchful stare as they worried about you. Spencer not seeing you as the person he married...

Before you knew it, you were back in the corner of the room, trying to catch your breath. You curled up as much as possible, facing the wall in front of you as the tears streamed down your face. Thoughts came rushing back to you: Spencer taking the girls and leaving; the girls growing up hating you for not being able to care for them; Spencer leaving you alone with the girls; Spencer...

"Hey, babe? I brought apple slices and..." Spencer looked up from his plate of apple slices he arranged into a smiley face and saw that you weren't in the bed anymore.

Looking around the room, he heard sniffles, the signs of quiet crying, and mumbling. Putting the apple slices on the bed, he found you on the other side of the room, rocking, back facing him.

"Y/n... Are you okay?" Spencer asked.

He knew you weren't okay, not in the slightest, but he wanted to let you know he was in the room and he cared. Meanwhile, your mumbling continued, the labored breathing as you tried and failed to regulate it.

Spencer heard the girls giggling in the living room and was glad that they had their movie and their snacks as he closed the door. They were already worried about you. They shouldn't have to worry more right now.

"I can't..." You kept repeating, over and over again.

You were so far out of it that Spencer didn't think you registered him sitting about a foot away from you as you cried heavily.

"Princess, what can't you do?" Spencer sat with his legs criss-crossed, facing you.

He wanted to badly just to hold you but he didn't want to send you into shock or make anything worse. He still had the pill samples in his pocket and he needed to convince you to take one but he was racking his brain as to how...

"I can't... I can't..." You kept repeating, you head growing light headed. The room was hot and spinning...

"Y/n, please talk to me? It's Spencer. It's just the two of us." Spencer watched as you looked over at him, a hint of recognition in your face.

"Spencer... I can't do this." You said, tears streaming freely now.

"Do what, my love?" Spencer did a small scoot towards you now that you acknowledged him but he didn't touch you. He just got a little bit closer.

"I can't... Anything. I'm not like you. I'm not strong. I'm alone. I'm scared. I can't do any of it." You said, not even bothering to wipe your cheeks of the drying tears because more would just fall.

"You can do this. You aren't alone, I'm here. I got time off from Hotch and we can go on a trip. We can do something different while we get you settled, balanced." Spencer smiled a little, just to give you some ounce of hope, but you weren't going for it.

"Spencer, I can't function... Not like I used to. Not like before..." You burst into a fresh set of tears.

You didn't want it to seem like you were blaming the girls. It wasn't their fault. But you knew things were different than when it was just you and Spencer together. Alone together.

"The girls were a big life change..." Spencer said, already knowing.

He always knew...

"I'm sorry. It's not their fault and it's not yours. It's..." You were about to blame yourself, halfheartedly.

"It's not yours either." Spencer always knew.

You were shaking and all you wanted was to breathe again. Stop crying. Go out and hang out with the joys of your life, all three of them.

"Princess, come here?" Spencer opened his arms and you climbed into his lap.

Whenever you were ready to be touched, Spencer was there with open arms. He knew that you would have said no if you weren't ready. He held onto you softly, not too much pressure. He made sure you could see everything in front of you so you didn't feel closed in. He even had a small bottle of water from the bedside table on the floor with him.

"Spence, I'm a failure..." You said, almost at a whisper.

"You're not a failure. You just need help." Spencer pulled out the little capsule and opened the bottle of water for you.

You stared at it blankly before grabbing it in your hand. Spencer nudged the water bottle a little closer to you and you sighed, taking it in your hand before swallowing it.

"It's supposed to make me sleepy..." You said, sighing again.

"Let's climb into bed and I can hold you until you wake up. Or until the girls start burning the house down. I think that would be grounds for letting go of you to put the fire out." Spencer smiled, kissing the top of your forehead.

You weren't able to walk to the bed on your own so he held you as much as he could as you both climbed in and got comfortable. Spencer noticed you were still shaking even though you were calming down slowly. He knew part of it was because you were cold again and the other part was because you were so emotionally drained from the process.

Spencer put on his 'y/n's bad day' playlist that he made for you on that app you convinced him to get. You know, the music one. The two of you make collaborative playlists to keep each other going through the days when he was away from home. Since the last time you listened to it, Spencer added a couple new songs that you hadn't heard before but you decided you liked. Slowly, your blinking grew longer and your body grew heavier.

"What about a road trip?" Spencer said, thinking.

"Hmm?" You hummed, deciding to just let your eyes close and listen to his heartbeat.

"A road trip. We can go somewhere... Away from here for a little while. Let my girls see something different." Spencer kissed the top of your head as he felt you growing more relaxed. Your grip around his waist was getting looser.

"I think the girls would like that..." Your voice was very soft at this point and Spencer was a little less tense knowing that the medication was helping.

"What about you? You're my girl too." Spencer smiled and nuzzled the top of your head.

"I'm happy whenever I'm with you, wherever we are." You drifted off to sleep with a little snore that Spencer found so cute.

"I love you so much..." Spencer said, yawning.

As if on cue, there was a tiny knock at the door, followed by two heads peaking out from around the now-open door.

"Daddy? Can we lay down with you and mommy?" Alexandria asked as she and Chloe tiptoed towards the end of the bed.

Spencer lifted his head to make sure you were still sleeping before quietly nodding.

The girls climbed into bed on Spencer's side, getting cozy in his free arm. Soon, all of his girls were sound asleep and all he could do was think about how lucky he was to have you. Through all of the darkness he lived in for so long, now he had you and the girls.

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome and Heavy Body

Chapter Seven: Safe To Shore 

You're gone, gone, gone away; I watched you disappear All that's left is a ghost of you Now we're torn, torn, torn apart; there's nothing we can do Just let me go, we'll meet again soon

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word Count:  6680

Author’s Note: I am... so sorry

Derek Morgan walks into the hospital with no rushed agency. A simple leisure stroll guiding him through the hospital and the winding halls. He keeps his eyes cast to the book he’s reading as he works his way to the elevator. No need to watch too carefully when he knows where he’s going. These halls are kept clear of spectators and everyone’s got an agenda so there’s rarely the chance to run into someone’s conversation. His right thumb sits wedged into the spine, holding it open as he eats an apple with the left. He’s not sure he could tear himself away from the pages if he wanted to-- this shit is enrapturing. 

His feet carry him on autopilot, making turns he’s memorized without so much as parting his eyes from the words on the page. “How are you holding up, old man?” he doesn’t knock as he steps into Hotch’s room. Not much of a point in it anyways aside from letting Hotch know someone’s coming. The only thing he does worth hiding these days is moving places he shouldn’t be without help. Which, when the fancy strikes, he’s a real fiend for. But he’s in bed, propped up by pillows and half watching Judge Judy and trying to succumb to the drugs pulling him back down for another nap.

Hotch turns his head in the direction of the noise, already knowing from the loud entrance that it’s Morgan. Which eliminates any performative pieces he’d need to throw on to look healthier or to prepare for another round of being poked at and moved about. He lets his eyes slide shut, too tired to engage in conversation and past the point of caring if that looks disrespectful or cold. A shiver escapes him, his skin is broken out in painful goosebumps with his arms bare in the room. Any attempt to curl into himself, turning his shoulder into the bed, is met with sharp pain from the chest-tube. 

A nurse had come in not that long ago and moved him around enough to disturb his blankets, even pulling that dreadful mask back up over his face. She’d tucked the blankets around his hips and upped his medicine enough to subdue him. Leaving him too tired, too fogged to piece together the words and tell anyone that he’s cold and wants another blanket. He’s not really there when they give him all the drugs and he hates his inability to communicate. Even opening his jaw requires so much careful thought that he knows any speech he can produce will be slurred to the point of incomprehension. 

He looks over to Derek, pleading that in some way the other man has acquired the ability to read his mind. It’s overwhelming but all he can manage is a scratchy hum in reply and a sloppy, “ ‘m fine.” It leaves his mouth poorly, tongue hardly able to move to enunciate what he wants to say. But there are some benefits to having known someone as long as Derek has known Hotch. 

Derek noticed the shiver and the pained wince, immediately. Seen the wheels turning over in Hotch’s head and the way he’d sunk deep within himself, disappointed when he was unable to produce it on his own. Derek can’t imagine what it must be like to forfeit so much independence and he knows he’d hate it every bit as much as Hotch must. Only a year ago, Hotch had stood looming over them all giving out orders and the first person they all run to when shit gets bad. JJ’s right hand no matter if she needed him to be her “bad” guy and yell at misogynists or to just be her similar ear when fleshing out theories. Now she’s his defender.

Placing his book and apple down on the visitor’s chair, he moves first to the tangled mess of blankets around Hotch’s legs. Pulling the blankets back and moving them so they sit laid across his body, actually providing him with the comfort and the warmth he wants. Tugging them up until Hotch’s arms are covered with the thick blankets and only his head peaks out. “Better now?” Derek asks, softly. He stays standing, taking Hotch’s hand and watching for Aaron to peel his eyes back open and nod his head. “Good.”

Derek sits back down and, though Hotch has closed his eyes and is just hardly awake, cracks his book open. “You must be on some next level drugs to recommend me this fucking book,” he says. Glancing just in time to see Hotch hide a smirk. “Nah, don’t play with me right now. I’m in an emotionally vulnerable place. You told me it was good and it’s not, it's sad. I’m sad all the time. I’m only sad. Why would you tell me to read this book?”

Hotch smirks, “didn’t think you’d listen… never did before.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “what does that even mean? Of course, I listen to you sometimes.” He just wishes he’d thought a little more about taking on this book. The stupid thing is breaking his heart. He’s getting comfortable again when his phone goes off, ringing and not just another text from Garcia. The one at the door had requested he tell Hotch that she loves him and he would if it was pressing but she’s about ten minutes away and can tell him herself when she gets here. But it’s not Garcia. “Hello?” he stands again, glancing at Hotch and not bothering to excuse himself when he sees Hotch doesn’t even open his eyes to see what it is.

“Is this Derek Morgan?”

Morgan glances back around as he steps out into the hall, feeling off about leaving Hotch alone in that big room. “Yeah,” Derek mumbles. “I mean, yeah, I’m Derek Morgan.”

The person on the other line hums, “I’m calling about Dr. Spencer Reid. I have his medical files here and you’re listed as his power of attorney?”

Derek freezes, “yeah. Yeah, I’m his-- I”m his power of attorney.” It had bounced around between them over the years. Jason and Hotch and now Morgan. Though the point of keeping that amidst the team was so when they went into the hospital it would be easy to get information from the hospital. You can never control what happens in the field.

“I regret to inform you that today Dr. Reid was in an automobile--”

They’re all learning the hard way the field isn’t the only place where they relinquish control.

Derek laughs. Tears sting his eyes and he laughs. For the last month-- no God since fucking January, it’s supposed to be Hotch. He had a suit tailored to fit him because of all the weight he’s lost. Clothes picked out and a tie he and Emily and Garcia fight over at least once a week. Hotch refuses the one Emily likes and Garcia hates it when Emily argues that Hotch will be dead so what does he even care. There’s a Will they’ve been over at least a dozen times and contingency plans for Jack. Derek hasn’t planned and overthought every word he’s said to Hotch in the last year afraid something stupid will be the last for it to be…

“Yeah-- yeah I hear you.”

“Again, I’m very sorry.”

“Yeah,” Derek breathes. “Okay.” He stands there with the phone pressed to his ear long after the line dies. He just stares. Unable to comprehend what just happened. What is happening? It’s just really not their year. Emily never shuts up about how close they are, just over the hill or some bullshit equivalent metaphor. But she’s not the one forcing herself back together knowing that if Hotch suspects Derek’s hiding anything it’ll kill him. He’ll stress himself out trying to figure out what it is and if he does figure it out or even if he doesn’t… it will kill him. He steps back into the room, double-checking that Hotch won’t see that he’s just cried. “Hey--” he stops right there at the door. 

Hotch is sitting up with his eyes vacantly cast to the blank wall in front of him. His shoulders pull up to expand his lungs but he can’t get enough air. “Hotch?” Derek looks around the room, to the monitors picking up speed as his heart rate rockets and his blood pressure drops. “Hotch, you okay?”

Hotch looks over to Morgan and then back at the wall. “I can’t breathe,” he pulls at the gown loosely holding onto his shoulders. “Something--” his face pinches, a hushed cry of pain leaving his lips as he folds into himself. “It won’t-- Somethings-- Somethings wrong.”

Derek moves to step in but he freezes as the room is filled with the sound of very, very angry sounding machines. He stumbles back, watching Hotch fall back onto the bed. Kicking and writhing as he tries to breathe. He’s not even sure what to do. His mind is fogged with the news about-- God, how’s he supposed to tell Hotch? Garcia’s coming, he’ll have to tell her. And Dave and Emily and JJ. They can’t handle this. They won’t make it. 

“Excuse me,” a nurse steps past Derek and he stumbles back. He hits the wall behind him, jumping hard at the sudden jarring hit. Derek looks back at Hotch one more time, watching his legs slide back down to the bed. His frantic wheezing gets softer. And Derek walks away. He runs away. He can’t be there.

----------------------------

 Mid-February

Emily looks down at the comforter, playing with the soft material rather than looking at him. He is laying down, stretched out beside her. It’s the first time she’s seen him vulnerable-- the first time she sees the way that he has no control over what his body decides to do anymore. Ice pack over his head, trying to soothe his headache, and a bloodied tissue in the other as he awaits the next nose bleed. They’re close enough to touch despite having a whole bed to layout on. His leg against her side, her arm near his hip. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers nasally. Turning his head to look over at her, she winces at the sight of his bloodied face. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

She looks down at her lap, scratching at her pants so that she doesn’t have to look at him. It is a lot to ask. It’s a job she’s had before and for a long time. After Foyet he asked her to be his power of attorney because Haley wouldn’t be able to while in protective custody and as they stood she was the only person who could stand to be around him. She’d agreed, so long as he’d be hers that way she could get her mother off the list. They’d done the paperwork together. 

“I don’t want Dave--” he chokes himself up. Holding his hand over his mouth as he averts his eyes away, trying to hide just how upset the idea makes him. “He, ugh, I don’t want to… He had a son, you know? A-- A baby and I don’t mean to say I’m, you know, but I don’t want something to happen and force him to…” 

Dave cares very deeply for all of them but it’s no secret that he has a special little attachment to Aaron and Emily. A bond that is a little more pronounced, he just knows how to deal with them. Something about that reckless nature of theirs that he knows all too well. Emily knows what Hotch means even if he can’t bring himself to say it. Before making Dave his power of attorney was a matter of convenience. Now he has to think, far more than before, about who he knows will make the right decisions. 

“Aaron,” she squeezes his hand. “I’ll do it.” Her heart hurts just to think about the worst-case scenarios. Imagines doctors asking way too many questions and his lifeless body spread out on a stretcher waiting for her to tell them they can pull life-support. Will she find herself in charge of a zombie, hovering between life and death, and all he has is her by his side and her voice to go by. To tell the doctors they can try shocking his stilled heart one more time or if they can stop dumping chemo into his unresponsive veins. What is she getting herself into?

“One condition.” she barters. “You be mine again. Old times sake.”

He’d caved because he knew it was the only way to win. 

In another hospital on a metal tray in the E.R. soaked in blood and screen cracked, Emily Prentiss’ phone sits idle. The decision to make him her medical proxy was a whim but there was an air of urgency in making her his. To him, they were playing with time and he hates waiting for the inevitable. She’d just wanted things to go back to the way that they were before. Coming home because she misses them and maybe working in the BAU or at least within the FBI again. She gets to be his right-hand man again and she and Dave and Hotch get to spend afternoons drinking in Hotch’s office. 

It wasn’t supposed to mean this. 

This was never supposed to happen.

David Rossi picks up the unknown call, agitated to be bothered while he’s driving. “This is he.” He gets onto the high-way and grimaces at the carnage of mangled and warped metal sitting on the side. Waving the man in the fireman’s suit who directs him into an adjacent lane but he’s not spared the sight of the crimson pools of blood baking under the sun. He shakes his head, sighing sadly. 

He nearly causes another wreck. 

“Are-- Are you sure you have the right… I mean, I just it’s hard to believe because--”

“Yes, sir. Ms. Prentiss’ I.D. was found on her person at the scene. We’ll have to have someone come to identify the body but yes--”

The body. 

He just opened the text she sent. Urging him to go to the hospital sooner because she was leaving to go get Reid and didn’t want Hotch sitting there alone any longer than he had to. She’s always thinking about that, covering them in ways they hadn’t thought of. Sending them articles about cancer and never seeming to have to ask Hotch anything just knowing. There were two texts, one that was distinctly her and the other Reid. Too much grammatical rule-following to be Emily who texts by shortening every word she can and miss-spelling the other half. 

If Emily’s dead… where’s Reid?

He has no choice but to keep driving to execute this one thing that’s been asked of him. He’s going to go sit with Aaron until someone else comes and he’ll keep this all under wraps. Just a few years ago Aaron pulled off the opposite, convincing them Emily was dead. Let them bury her and work through their grief assessments all while knowing she was alive. Dave can manage this. 

But Aaron hadn’t fooled Dave. 

And Dave doesn’t fool Aaron for a second.

“Where is she, David?”

David. No one else is there when he arrives and no amount of water he splashes across his face can wash away the deep red agony of the mourning he feels in his bones. To lose a child… He can’t protect any of them. Another painful reminder to hit him like a kick as he steps into Aaron’s hospital room. Watching as the staff around Aaron plunge drugs into his forever thinning body. Even though he knows there’s nothing to be done now, it’s a futile fight.

The weight of his body in that visitor’s chair is unwelcomed, wrong. 

Aaron’s body might fail him every chance it gets but he’s been a profiler his whole life. It’s the only way to survive and now is no exception. No amount of Dave’s soft diversion will distract him from the red swelling around Dave’s eyes. From the wet rings around his sleeves where he didn’t push his sleeves up high enough before splashing water onto his face. And he pieces his own truth together through what Dave won’t tell him. 

Until he knows.

“Don’t lie to me,” he asks softly. They’d tried to intubate him just after Derek left but he’d refused it. Fought between heaving breaths until they left him alone. Gave him the steroids and left him to his own devices. He didn’t care right in that moment or even now as his chest burns from the exertion. No more, he’s decided. He’s tired and in pain. No more cuts and tubes and hospitals. The sort of thing that he’s expecting to scream and fight with Emily about. Only the papers are on their way, waiting to be signed by his trembling hand, and she’s not here. “Please, Dave. Don’t lie to me.” 

David Rossi is a bad man. Not so much a coward as just his morals askew, the things he’s willing to do and the things that he does do… Though for all the bad things he’s done, he knows that Emily and Aaron keep turning back around expecting Dave to be there. Needing him to come into their chaotic as all hell lives as if he has a place at that table. But his place is there, the plate set. Aaron is looking back at him, asking just a simple thing of Dave. It’s right there and the truth will kill him but a lie will shatter all that they have. 

“She’s dead, Aaron.” 

Dave continues on as Aaron chokes, turning his face away from Dave.

“Derek thinks it was the snow. She and Reid… there was just so much snow and when she--”

“No!” he doesn’t want to hear it. “No, please leave me alone.” The panic builds up like the fluid in his lungs. Until he’s choking on both and can hardly breathe. He doesn't want to hear anything. Doesn’t want to know that it happened.

“Aaron?” Dave stands from his chair, trying to reach out to him but Aaron pulls his hand away. 

“Please,” he wheezes, fingers wound into his gown. “Please, Dave, please go.”

A nurse steps into the room and Dave looks back at and then to Aaron and he listens. For once in his life he listens to Aaron’s pained cries and he relents. He steps out of the room, pushing hot tears off his cheeks with his fists. He’s losing them. Lost them. It’s far too late now. What was Aaron holding on to before? The idea of living was only entertaining with the prospect of getting to work with Emily again-- being on the team. Aaron’s been convinced for far too long now that Jack would be better off with Jessica and the past few months, in his mind, have only proven that. The team functions without him, they’ve been sent off on cases without him. Morgan taking charge. It’s not the first time Morgan's taken charge. 

So, what does that leave? 

His mess has been cleaned up. He doesn’t have to pretend to be strong for Reid. Doesn't have to stay for Emily. Derek will take care of the team. Jessica will raise Jack. It’s better this way. Garcia and JJ don’t need him, they never have. Dave’s always saying how he needs friends his own age. This puts them on a new path. A new leg. They’ll be okay.

It’s better this way. It really is.

“Sir?” 

Hotch signs the papers-- all of them. A DNR that Emily had once rolled her eyes at him for even considering. She wouldn’t let it get that bad, she’d promised with a chuckle. He’s not dying on her. Funny how just a little snow changes everything. He signs himself out of the hospital and realizes that he doesn’t have anyone to come get him. A nurse tries to talk to him, to comfort or console but he’s consumed by his grief. Shaking as his silent sobs shake his thin body. She’s nearly afraid he’ll kill himself like this, crying so hard that he can’t breathe.

He takes a taxi home. Forehead leaning against the cool glass and thankful that the man driving doesn’t even bother to pretend to be interested in him. No one’s at the house but she’s everywhere. Her coat on the floor where it had fallen off the rack. A pair of her shoes right in front of the door, he nearly trips over them. A mug she left out on the counter. A book left she’ll never finish on the couch. A sweatshirt thrown over a chair. 

His feet carry him on autopilot, body too tired to fight but he can’t make it back to his room. If she were here-- he’d still be in the hospital-- she’d bully him back onto his feet. Rolling her eyes and keeping him in motion. She always seems to know when to push and when to cave and he doesn’t. He can’t tell the difference between pain that he can push through and pain that’s going to kill him. 

Well… maybe it’s pain that is killing him now. 

The couch is cold but the blankets are kept in a chest too far away. Across the living room just far enough away that he knows he might be able to get to it but he won’t be able to get back to the couch. All he can do is look over at it.  

He already misses her. The way she buzzes about everywhere or how she’d probably force him to sit up and watch some shitty sitcom with her. He’s gotten used to her invading his personal space and demanding his attention. Talking all the time even if he doesn’t respond. 

He’s alone again. 

How did he ever set out thinking he could do this in the first place without her? 

----------------------------

He gets worse, quick. 

The pneumonia is what’s hurting him the worst, the cancer spreads slowly but the pneumonia settles deep in his lungs. Breathing is taxing, consumes far too much of his energy. Once, maybe a few weeks ago, he would have assured them that he would be fine. There’s no need to worry. It’s hard to lie about something like that when he needs Derek’s help to stand, when he can’t sit up on his own without being propped up by pillows. 

They argue where he can’t hear them, not that it matters anymore. 

He wants to go to the funerals but it’s still cold out. How are they supposed to make that happen? Derke hates the idea, tells JJ to just abdon whatever plan she’s come up with because he’s not going. He’s still convinced they can force life back into him, go back and fix everything. He’s living in some world where there is no cancer or car accident and Emily’s in London and Reid’s in Las Vegas visiting his mother. 

JJ goes on. She picks out a suit and finds his best jacket. Hunts down a nice blanket and takes the wheelchair the hospital offered them. She smiles and tells Garcia that she’s an angel when she knits him a black hat to pull down over his head, beaming when she produces a matching scarf. “It’s got a little blue in it,” Garcia says, showing her the dark blue accenting the ends. “That’s his favorite color.”

JJ squats down beside the bed, pulling her dress up so her knees can bend, and she can move how she’d like. Gently, afraid touch alone will unravel him, she places her hand on his shoulder. She doesn’t shake him, she just rubs her hand over his arm until his eyes crack open. “You’re still sure you want to do this?” she asks as he slowly places himself. A weary, bone-tired weight settling over his face as he looks back at her processing what she’s asked. 

He glances at his nightstand to the alarm clock sitting to his right. They’ve given him an hour, which is more time than he’d normally need, but they’re not moving at his normal pace. They’re moving at their own pace, how quickly they can work him into clothes. With a nod, he sets them into motion. There used to be a time when he could be picky about these sorts of things-- who saw him naked and who he allowed to help him. Now he can’t go to the bathroom unless someone helps him drag his stiff bones there. Can’t stand unless he’s leaning into someone else’s strength. 

He’s folded into JJ, going where she pulls him into her chest, so that Derek can slide in behind him and help her work his unwilling arms and legs into pants and a shirt. The day isn’t altogether that weary just a little cold. Considering the weight he’s lost, it makes things easier for them to layer his clothes. He lets JJ pull a long-sleeved t-shirt over his head, slowly working his arms into the sleeves while she finds his white button-up and the black sweater Morgan laid out to go underneath it. It takes her no time to attack the buttons on his shirt. He gets no real warning from Derek as the black sweater is tugged down and he hears a soft, pleased huff of a half-laugh that Derek gets out of his surprised grunt. 

JJ frowns at Derek, unamused with him. She squats down by Aaron’s legs, JJ cups his cheek, tilting his head up so she can look into his eyes. Stroking her thumb across his cheek, “you don’t have to come, Hotch. No one will--”

“I do,” he whispers. “I can’t-- I won’t forgive myself if…”

So he goes and she’s glad he’s there because she doesn’t want to be alone. There’s something still grounding about him being there, sitting there beside them. Squeezing their hands to comfort them, offering Garcia a handkerchief to wipe her eyes. It’s like… It’s nearly like he’s himself for a day. Holding JJ to his chest and rubbing her back until she can stand and give the eulogy she’d written. He’s talking softly to Morgan, the two of them taking charge of the day and Derek is just relieved to be told what to do again. To have a plan of action that he doesn’t have to come up with. 

Jack stays glued to him, sitting in his lap or holding tight to Hotch’s sleeve. 

Hotch is Hotch. He stifles his coughs and sits up straight. Pretending is exhausting and by the end of the day, the other’s flooding his dining room with the thick scent of food and soft sniffles as they cry and laugh, he settles into the couch. Listening to Derek tell the story about the time he took Spencer hiking and the kid twisted his ankle half-way to the top, didn’t tell Derek, and he had to carry him all the way back down. It was like listening to a podcast, Spencer telling them all kinds of things about every little thing they passed. At the time he was annoyed but now...

Jack stops at the end of the couch, sniffling as he uses his sweatshirt’s sleeve to wipe his nose. It’s obvious he’s been crying no matter how hard he’s tried to cover it up. His eyes get red and the skin around his eyebrows very pale, he gets that from Haley. Neither of them has ever been able to hide their tears. They’re cryers, Hotch knows, Jessica is too. He finds it terribly endearing and he’s always adored their ability to be so sensitive. He’s glad Jack never lost it… he hopes he never loses it. 

“Don’t wipe your nose on your sleeve,” Hotch says as well as he can. It’s hard to breathe around the fluid in his lungs but he can manage anything for Jack. He’ll do anything for him. “That’s gross.”

Jack giggles because he’s young and boogers on his sleeve are something to laugh about. Hiding his face by looking down at the floor he stumbles over to the couch. Sinking down onto his knees with a little thunk and folding over the cushions until he can press his face into the stack of blankets over his father’s body. He turns his head, looking up at his father, and smiles again. Closing his eyes when Hotch puts his hand over Jack’s cheek, stroking back the overgrown hairs. “Daddy?” Jack doesn’t know the word for the way that he feels but it’s anxiety. He’s terrified and he’s anxious because losing Haley had been quick and he hadn’t even known it was happening. 

Losing his father is… everywhere he looks. 

“What is it, buddy?” Hotch strokes the soft blonde strands back behind Jack’s ear. Lost to the simple soothing motion. 

Jack turns his face into the blankets, relieved to smell something homely. From what feels like so long ago. It doesn’t smell like Jessica’s house or like the hospital. It just smells like his dad and home and like everything that has been happening is one great big old lie. He doesn’t want to cry but no matter how hard he wipes at his tears they keep coming.

“Okay, okay.” Hotch can’t lift Jack but he still manages to catch one of Jack’s furiously rubbing hands. His grip isn’t strong and Jack could pull free but he doesn’t. “Buddy--”

“You’re gonna die, aren’t you?”

He put off this conversation far too long but it still hits like a MACK truck. “Bud--” he swallows thickly, wincing at the stab of pain across his chest. Right, he’s reminded, have to stay still. And Jack sees it. No matter how hard they’ve all tried to protect him he sees Hotch freeze as the pain overwhelms him. Unable to speak, just has to keep forcing air in and out of his failing lungs. It is only a minute but Jack watches frozen in horror as Hotch slowly comes back. “Sorry,” he whispers, unable to make his voice any louder. 

Jack is holding his hand, hiccuping softly. “Mommy probably misses you,” he whispers, tentatively. 

Hotch smiles but doubts that. Tears swell and he can’t even wipe them away. “I’m so sorry Jack.” He’s making an orphan out of his son. He’s just a baby. Someone else will teach him how to shave and someone else will sit with him when he opens his acceptance letters to all kinds of great colleges. Hotch will never get to see him graduate-- not even from elementary school. He’ll never struggle to piece together what to say when Jack gets his first heart-break or to find out if he’s into men or women or likes to wear nail polish or if he’s a coffee fiend like him or hates it like Haley. 

He won’t be there.

“I’ll still talk to you,” Jack offers. “I promise. I’ll tell you anything and everything--” there are tears pouring down his little face. Frantic now and Hotch isn’t sure which of them he’s trying to console. “And-- and--” Jack’s lower lip curls under the other and lets out a choked sob. He tries to hide it but it comes out he sits up, pushing himself as close as he can get to Hotch. “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to be with Mommy. I want you. Why can’t you stay with me?”

It’s not the first time Jack felt anger towards his mother but it’s the first of many times he hates both his parents. His mother for not being here and father for being weak because that’s all Jack can understand. That cancer is a battle and his father, the man he thought invincible, is losing. So he must not be fighting hard enough. Why can’t he just fight harder? Why isn’t Jack enough?

Why aren’t any of them?

Garcia knits him thick winter hats but he’ll never make it long enough to see the next snowfall and need them. He takes the hats she brings him and lets her start new ones even though he knows he’ll never see their completion. Jack draws pictures, endless in supply, and they go up all around Hotch. JJ takes the time to pin each one someplace he can see it. 

His awareness goes first. The confusion that sets in… it’s hard to know what to say. They never know what to do.

He asks about work. JJ takes his hand and talks him through old cases. Tries to settle on the good ones and he lets her. Smiling comes easy when there’s winning and she reminds him of the children they did save. Of the goods things.

He tells them that he’s not in any pain but he’ll get confused a few moments later and with tears streaming down the sides of his face ask them why it hurts. Trembling and looking so desperate, choking in pain and shuddering as he fights it. “Why?” he asks. He doesn’t honestly know why it hurts or why they won’t help. “Everything-- Everything hurts--” And sometimes he can’t even speak. Just has this hazy glow to his eyes as he shakes and coughs. And there’s nothing they can do for him.

The worst is that he won’t stop asking for Emily. They come up with so many lies and sometimes they can get little smiles out of him by telling him something clever if it feels right and like something silly she would do. It’s hard to be so positive in the face of that very fresh wound but it’s so much worse when he does remember. When he asks and then hardens and whispers, “no… no, it’s okay. I remember.” He looks so much happier when he doesn’t.

He stops eating two days before he gives up drinking. 

“Just a sip,” Garcia begs, crying and knowing what this means. 

Hotch just looks back at her but he’s not there.

“Leave him alone, baby girl.” And Derek pulls her out of the room as she cries, sobbing and screaming because she can’t stand to lose anymore. Emily and Reid and now he’s going too. It’s too late she knows to tell him the things that she needs to. What if he doesn’t know that she loves him? He might stay if he knew that, right? He wouldn’t leave her. She’d ask Derek to promise he won’t leave but Hotch did that too once. Crotched down in front of her office chair and took her hand and promised that all she needed him he’d be here. 

Well, she still needs him, okay? So… 

Now it’s borrowed time. 

“Let’s go outside, old man.” Derek has to stop, turning his head to the side when Hotch smirks at the way he says ‘old man’. A tear falls down the side of his face and rubs it away, harder than necessary. It’s a practiced maneuver, he lifts Hotch and puts him in the wheelchair. He’s careful, wrapping Hotch in as many blankets as he finds within arm’s reach, propping his sides up with pillows. Suddenly, overcome by just the way Hotch’s bed looks. Two years ago it was empty, only ever occupied by him. Now they sleep here with him every night, trying to make sure that if he goes in his sleep he’s not alone. So that they can have the comfort of knowing they were here and they did do everything they could.

“Jack,” Hotch rasps as they approach the door. 

“Can you hear him?” Derek asks, opening the back door and closing his eyes against the sun he feels on his skin. “Look at him,” Derek says, “ out here running around like a heathen.” Jack doesn’t notice them and neither does Henry. The two loudly going on about their game dodgeball or maybe keep-away it’s hard to tell. There’s just a lot of thrilled shouting. It makes Derek smile, seeing them just be kids. 

He puts Hotch in the shade and waves to Garcia and JJ already standing out there, the two of them dragging out chairs to stand in the sun. The two of them move to soak in a strangely warm day. After all the snow, all of which still hasn’t melted, a random nearly sixty degree day with a bright hot sun feels like spring. “You okay here?” Derek asks, setting the brakes.

Hotch nods, smiling softly as he watches Derek join Dave and the boys in the yard. He watches them play, hears Jack scream with pure joy when Derek throws him up into the air and when JJ fusses with all four of them for even thinking about taking off their jackets. They go on and on and he gets tired just watching them. Resting his head against the wheelchair he does his best to keep his coughs soft, undetectable to the others. He’s cold but he doesn’t want to go inside just yet and though it’s hard to breathe he doesn’t want anything. He just wants to watch a little longer.

Just a little longer. 

Derek isn’t sure what it is, something churning in his stomach, but he looks up. Eyes moving across the lawn-- Garcia knitting under the safety of her large brimmed hat and JJ stretched out on a chair trying to read. Jack has Henry pinned, the two of them going on wrestling with or without Derek now that he’s distracted. 

“Hotch?” Derek steps closer. Derek feels it crawl up his throat, a rabid animal clawing and ripping him to shreds. He wants to rush over, fights the urge to run over and shake him but he already knows. He glances over to Dave, listens to the older man chuckle and shove at Henry who tries to overpower him. Sees JJ smile at something on her page and Garcia frown and undo a piece she’s messed up.

For a moment, he’s the only one that knows and he isn’t sure what to do. How to shield Jack from this or who he’s supposed to call. 

“Uncle Derek!” Henry screams, begging to be released from where Dave has him pinned to the ground mercilessly tickling his sides. 

Derek looks back at Hotch one more time, forcing himself not to cry. This is what he wanted, right? Not in a hospital or hooked up to machines. He was sitting in his yard and listening to what’s left of his family enjoy a warm sunny day. 

“I’m coming buddy,” he finally manages, smiling at Jack when he comes running up. Hoping that for just a few more minutes Derek can preserve something of his youth. Remind him how much fun he had today. That these parts be what he remembers. 

“Uncle Derek?” Jack asks, once Derek pulls him up into his arms. “I think we should go get ice cream. Don’t you? I’ll get strawberry and I’ll even share with daddy. Henry will be good too! Please?” 

Derek nods and smiles, “why don’t you get Uncle Dave to take you, huh?” He nods to Dave, “take these heathens to get some ice cream.” 

And Derek Morgan stands all by himself as he ushers them away, tells them to go on that he and Hotch will be fine. Go, go, and don’t come back without a cone for him. Waits until he can’t see the car anymore and he allows himself to cry. Sucking in choked breathes as he walks back to the yard. Pulling up the breaks. “Come on,” he whispers to Hotch. “One last time, old man.” He’s almost expecting that lazy smile. To hear Hotch grumble his name in that exasperated tone Derek loves so much. Only to be met with silence. 

Nothing. 

They didn’t say goodbye.

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan, @lazyhater

[cyhyr]

Summer of Whump Day 24: Stitches

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka; Uzumaki Naruto & Umino Iruka

WC: ~2530

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Stitches, performed without anesthetic. Dissociation. PTSD. References to past non/dub-con between Mizuki and Iruka.

A/N: Heyyy I did a tiny bit of research, watched a video on how to perform these kinds of emergency stitches, and Have Never gotten stitches before in my life, anesthetic or no. I just wanna hurt the man, is that so bad lol

~

Two days after Mizuki puts a fūma shuriken in his back, showing his true colors and betraying the village, Iruka leaves the hospital because he is sick of laying on his stomach. The medinins refuse to heal him any further, saying that his body needs to help put itself back together without the use of chakra; still, though, they want him to stay for at least a week, so they can keep an eye on his stitches. Iruka knows how to care for stitches. And so, with minimal pain medication and Naruto’s begrudging assistance, Iruka signs his discharge forms and goes home.

The next day he goes back to work at the Mission Desk, as the Academy is on break for another two weeks before the next term starts. The work is physically simple, if stressful in other ways. There really should be refresher courses for shinobi with terrible handwriting.

The problem happens on his way home. And it’s really the dumbest thing.

A stray cat gets underfoot. Iruka stumbles. He twists just enough to catch himself before he falls, and feels some of the threads holding his back together rip.

He’s proud of the fact that he holds back any outward expression of pain. He’s also proud that he makes it the rest of the way home without attracting any attention or getting any odd looks.

Iruka heads straight to the bathroom once he’s home, and is able to shrug off his flak vest easily enough. There’s a spot of blood on the inside, soon to set into a stain. Iruka can’t be bothered. He tries pulling his shirt over his head and grits his teeth at the flash of pain—nope, that’s not happening. Instead, he pulls a pair of scissors from the vanity drawer, sighs for the hopelessness of needing to replace this shirt later, and cuts the fabric off of himself.

Once his shirt is in pieces on the floor, he turns around and looks over his shoulder as best he can to observe the damage. He’s bleeding sluggishly through the ripped threads, and the skin has split again. He should go to the hospital.

He really doesn’t want to go back to the hospital. It’s only been a day.

But he can’t fix this himself; if it were on his arm, or leg, or hell even his chest or stomach, he could do it. In the middle of his back, however? That’s just—

“Iruka-sensei, I’m home! And I brought Kakashi-sensei! He said he was going to have soup for dinner so I invited him! Who has just soup for dinner???”

Oh, shit. He forgot about Naruto coming over. He forgot about giving Naruto a key and teaching him the wards. And of course, Naruto invited his jōnin-sensei—which normally wouldn’t be a problem! But he can’t go out there like this.

Fuck.

Naruto knocks on the door. “Iru-nii?” He’s quiet, which is how Iruka knows that Naruto is worried about him. “Is everything okay?”

His instinct is to say yes, of course I’ll be right there but he doesn’t want to lie to Naruto. He’s not okay, and he won’t be okay if he can’t get his back—

Wait.

Kakashi.

He’s not considering this. He barely knows the man! But then, wouldn’t that make it easier to ask for a clinical, clean, stitch me up please with no weird feelings?

Naruto knocks again. “Iru-nii?” The handle jiggles like he’s about to open it.

“I’m… I—Actually, could you. Um.” He braces his hands against the vanity. He can do this. He gets it all out in one large exhale: “Can you send Kakashi-sensei in here, please?”

Naruto seems to pause—maybe even thoughtfully—outside the door before he runs back to the living room. Iruka whines through his teeth as his back continues to bleed sluggishly. He can hear the two of them talking in the apartment, Naruto’s voice getting louder as he comes back to the bathroom.

“Please, can you just—?”

A soft knock. “Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi’s voice is just as soft.

“Come in, please,” Iruka groans. “Don’t let Naruto in,” he adds quickly.

Kakashi steps through the door and shuts it behind himself. He crosses the bathroom in two steps and stands behind Iruka, examining the wound. He lets out a low hum. “I thought you’d be on bedrest for at least another week, sensei,” Kakashi comments. “I heard this was serious.”

Iruka ignores him. “There’s a suture kit in the cabinet above the toilet,” he says instead. “Is there any chance I can have you—?”

“Why not just go back to the hospital?”

“I… Gods, Kakashi-sensei, I hate it there. It smells wrong and everyone looks at me with either distrust or pity and I. I can’t. Please.”

Kakashi doesn’t respond verbally, but does go to the cabinet and remove the suture kit. He pushes his hands around Iruka, into the sink, and washes up; then he finds a washcloth, wets it, and carefully drags it along the skin around the wound.

“You still may have lost a significant amount of blood, sensei. You should—”

“I’ll take an iron supplement,” Iruka shakes his head. “Just. Close it back up, please.”

“There’s no anesthetic in here.”

“I know,” Iruka says sheepishly. “I used it up last time Mizu—well, I never got around to replenishing it.”

“I don’t know the medical ninjutsu to numb the nerves,” Kakashi warns. “This is going to hurt.”

“I’m aware. Just. Do it.”

He can feel Kakashi prodding softly at his back with the forceps, the metal cool against his skin. He prepares himself for the worst.

~

It’s been at least a year and a half since Kakashi has had to give someone else stitches. He sets the forceps aside, back in the kit, and selects a pair of gloves.

“No latex allergy?” he asks, to confirm.

“I wouldn’t keep them in the house if I had one,” Iruka grumbles.

Kakashi hums and pulls his own gloves off, replacing them with the latex. “Five stitches in total, sensei,” he says, assessing the length of the exposed injury. “You popped four, but I learned a different method of stitching; I’ll need to make five to cover the same distance.”

Iruka nods. “Whatever you need to do.”

“Do you have something to bite?”

Iruka nods, reaches up and pulls his hitai-ate down his face, and back to his mouth. Kakashi notes that he doesn’t put the metal plate in his mouth—either he’s had this done before, or he’s not stupid.

Kakashi loads the needle, picks it up with the driver, and presses the tip of the needle against Iruka’s skin. “Last chance to go to the hospital,” he says.

Iruka groans through his makeshift gag and shakes his head. Once he’s still again, Kakashi drives the needle into his skin, turns his wrist, and pulls the first half of the stitch out of the right side of the wound. Iruka’s curse is muffled, but what Kakashi can determine sounds… creative?

He’s careful in pulling at the wound with the forceps, placing the needle precisely and piercing the flesh. Another turn of his wrist has the needle point rising up through the skin. He shifts the grip and pulls the needle through, letting the suture thread follow.

Iruka is statue-still, but whimpering behind his gag. It’s… gods it’s impressive, how still he holds himself through such biting pain. Then again, he is a shinobi—even if he’s a teacher now, Kakashi remembers pulling field work with Sandaime’s newest pet. Pain is just part of the job.

That doesn’t mean they can turn their nerves off.

Kakashi loops the thread and ties it off, settling the knot on the left. Twice more he knots the thread to keep it from coming loose again. He might not be a medic, but his stitches don’t pop. ANBU was good for something.

“That’s one,” he mutters and readies the driver again on the right. Iruka nods, and he continues the stitching.

As he’s tying off the second stitch, he notices that Iruka’s shoulders are, perhaps, too still. He glances around Iruka’s body (he thought the man would be slight and yes, he’s smaller than Kakashi, but they’re built similarly and that’s not important right now damnit) and notices that Iruka is barely breathing.

He sets his tools down and puts one hand on Iruka’s abdomen. “Breathe,” he orders. Iruka immediately sucks in a breath, pushing on Kakashi’s hand. He nods, saying, “Very good. Keep breathing through it. You’re doing very well.”

He picks back up the forceps and driver, not realizing the effect his words have on Iruka.

~

The needle bites into his back for the third stitch and Iruka breathes deeply through his nose. The pain is sharp and intense and combined with the ache of the rest of the shuriken wound and how recent Mizuki’s betrayal is on his mind… Iruka’s worried that he’s going to slip away like he used to in the last few months of his and Mizuki’s relationship. Before he had threatened Naruto one too many times and Iruka asked him to leave and not come back unless he can respect both of them.

(Mizuki hadn’t come back. He, instead, had gone and gotten engaged. Turns out Asuma-nii-san was right when he’d said that Mizuki was using him.)

(That was over a year ago. He doesn’t cry himself to sleep anymore.)

The needle comes up the other side and Iruka braces for the oddity of thread sliding through his flesh. Then the discomfort of the wound being pulled back together.

Kakashi is good at this, though. He uses even pressure the whole time, so Iruka can be sure exactly how much it’s going to hurt.

“Three done,” he says. “It’ll be over soon. You can take it.”

Mizuki used to say stuff like that.

Just a little more, baby. I know it hurts, but you can take it.

Iruka fights to stay present. The needle goes in, and in, and out and out; thread slides along the way it’s guided.

Aww, ‘Ruka, you gonna cry from a few stitches? I thought you were stronger than that.

He whimpers. He can’t have an episode in front of Naruto’s jōnin-sensei. But this was an unfortunate perfect storm of pain and soft words and harsh action but gentle hands and. And. And.

He breathes in. And out.

“There we go, that’s it,” Kakashi murmurs behind him.

His eyes lose focus. He needs to stay still because Mizu—Kaka—because… The pain is dull compared to the ringing in his head and the throbbing in his teeth. He can feel his heartbeat in his neck.

He tries to get out a warning. That he’s about to slip. He’s dissociating. He’s—

~

“One more knot,” he mutters. “You’ve done very well.”

Kakashi finishes the final knot and snips the thread to size. There are surgical dressings and tape in the box alongside the suture kit; he tapes a large dressing into place over the whole wound, not just the new stitches. The latex gloves come off and fall into the garbage beside the sink.

Iruka hasn’t moved.

He puts his hands on Iruka’s shoulders and turns him around; takes the hitai-ate out of his mouth and lets it rest around his neck. Iruka is… dazed? His breaths are shaky, uneven; what the hell…?

“Are you okay?”

Iruka nods slowly. Maybe the pain made him non-verbal. Kakashi’s known shinobi for whom it’s happened before.

“You took that well. I don’t know many shinobi who would get that many stitches without anesthetic outside of a field situation.”

“Thank you,” Iruka says drowsily.

That wasn’t exactly the answer he was hoping for. Umino Iruka is known for having a smart mouth and a quick wit; this is something else. “You should eat something.”

“Not hungry.”

“Something light, then.” Kakashi tugs him along by his elbows, says, “Your bedroom, out and to the right?” Iruka freezes, for less than a second. It’s enough for Kakashi to notice; he hastens to explain, “You need a fresh shirt, yes?”

Maybe a sense of normalcy will bring him back. Should he treat Iruka differently in this…

Fuck, the man’s not even looking at him. He’s looking at their feet. He’s trembling.

Trauma response, his ANBU training supplies. Fuck.

He takes Iruka’s hands, over-projecting his movements, and says, “Let’s get you dressed, and then you can sit with Naruto for a bit?”

Iruka’s like a doll as he follows along into his room, and sits primly on the edge of the bed. Like he’s ready to slip off at any moment—shit.

Kakashi ducks his head out of the room and yells down the hall. “Naruto? Come over here.”

The door next to his hand opens up and Naruto stands in the doorway, clearly stressed and worried. “Is Iruka-sensei okay? What happened? You guys were in the bathroom forever!”

Kakashi holds up a hand to stop the rambling. “He’s alright, I think. He’s—well, something unrelated to what I—”

Naruto pushes by him and into Iruka’s room. He clearly takes in Iruka’s shirtlessness and position on the bed to mean something else, because he crosses to Iruka and pulls the man into a hug. Then, he glares at Kakashi.

The Fox glares at Kakashi.

“You! I trusted you! How dare you touch him like that—!”

The fury is rising fast, and Kakashi needs to do damage control before real damage becomes a problem. He raises both hands and tries to placate Naruto, explaining, “Iruka asked me to fix his stitches. The trauma response is unrelated to me, I swear. Naruto, I didn’t touch him without his consent.”

The heat in the room settles a little, as it looks like Iruka leans into Naruto and maybe even mutters his name. Naruto looks away from Kakashi, his eyes still exposing the Fox, and he grits, “Second drawer down,” while pointing at a chest of drawers against the wall.

Kakashi moves carefully—he’s not sure yet how much of the Fox is out of the seal’s control and he doesn’t want to risk it. The second drawer has a selection of uniform shirts and also casual tees. Kakashi picks the topmost civvie tee and brings it to Naruto.

“That’s close enough,” Naruto growls when he gets to the end of the bed. He’s three paces away. He’s not positive that it’s far enough to make a clean retreat should Naruto determine him to be a threat. He tosses the shirt the rest of the way, and watches while Naruto helps Iruka into it.

“I’m going to go and find him something light to eat. Stay with him?”

“Of course,” Naruto growls. “You don’t need to ask.”

“Naruto…” he hesitates, not sure he wants to know, but is too curious to not try and ask. “What happened? Who—?”

“You can ask Iruka-sensei when he’s back,” Naruto says.

It’s telling enough that Naruto understands what’s going on, that Iruka is dissociated and not present. Kakashi heads out of the room with a nod. Someone who inspires this much rage from the Fox, and who Naruto is comfortable enough with to call “brother”?

Kakashi absolutely intends to find out everything he can about this man.

[batfam-rewrites]

Batfam During Quarantine: 27 Minutes

Dick: Good morning adopted dad!

Bruce: *grunts*

Tim: Bruce is so stressed out. Yesterday I watched him stare at a page load for 1 second and he screamed his head off. He almost destroyed the computer.

Jason: I literally saw him counting grey hairs the other day. Whatever it is it must be Tim’s fault.

Tim: Don’t you blame this on me....

Dick: *speaks over Tim* Okay so anyway, here’s the challenge, *speaks a bit lower* first person to make Bruce smile gets to drive the Batmobile on their next patrol.

Cassandra: Awesome, how do we decide who.......

Jason: *walks over to Bruce*

Cassandra: Never mind.

Jason: Hey Bruuuuuce.

Bruce: *glares at Jason while slurping coffee*

Jason: Want some breakfast? *turns on stove* How about some eggs!

Bruce: What do you want?

Jason: Nothing! Just to see my *pauses a bit* old man smile.

Bruce: I will shank you.

Jason: Loving this new color on you? You should be pissed off all the time.

Bruce: Go away.

Jason: Okay......d.....d...da...

Alfred: Don’t burst a blood vessel Jason.

Jason: No, I can do this. Da......d.a....dad *sighs and puts his hand on the stove* AHHH, FUCKER!

Bruce: Jason, are you okay!

Jason: GET AWAY FROM ME, I CAN DO THIS BY MYSELF BRUCE! *quickly runs to the bathroom to run cold water over his hand*

Duke: Well that was entertaining!

Cassandra: *lays head on Bruce’s shoulder and hugs him*

Bruce: *hugs Cassandra back but no smile*

Damian: Father, I brought you a gift. *pulls out a picture of the entire batfamily together*

Bruce: *Bruce smiles* Thanks Damian, that’s really thoughtful of you.

Damian: *turns towards everyone and points* YES SUCK IT LOSERS!

Daily Briefing

Dick: Okay, so we have reached a low point of criminal activity for Gotham City which is a good thing.

Cassandra: A bit funny how it took a pandemic to make Gotham a bit peaceful.

Dick: Exactly my point. Now, with that said, we will still be doing patrols starting at 11. Tim, this is your week on sanitation duty. Throughout the day we will train a bit harder than normal. There will be scheduled times and you will each have partners. Try to train no less than two and a half hours a day. Training should include sparing, cardio, strength, and tumbling. Try to spar with someone new every week.

Dick: Also Jason, you remember when you said you wish you could fall like me.

Jason: I was being sarcastic.

Dick: I will finally be teaching you how to do pommel horse 1 hour a week like you asked.

Jason: I will kill you.

Duke: Being honest, I’d like to try high bar and floor. I feel it will be very beneficial for me in the long run.

Dick: Awesome! You got it. Now everyone has until tomorrow to pick their partner, I know my partner will be Jason. 

Jason: Fuck you.

Dick: Also, last thing before I make the training schedules and routines, I need to address something. There are quite a lot of people in Gotham City still refusing to wear mask. During the day lets try to hand out mask with our own designs on them to everyone who we come across during the day. I already ordered them and they should be here by Saturday, so that is something we will be doing starting next week. 

*alarm sounds off in the batcave*

Alfred: It would seem there is a fire at Wayne Tower on the thirty-second floor.

Dick: Alright, Duke, Jason, and I will go to check it out. Everyone else do what you would normally do.

Tim and Bruce

Tim: Hey Bruce, I brought you some coffee!

Bruce: How many cups have you had?

Tim: Three large cups.

Bruce: After......

Tim: *mumbles* The five cups I had with breakfast.

Bruce: There we go.

Tim: Okay so what are we doing?

Bruce: Someone is trying to hack into my server. If they do so they will have unlimited knowledge of the companies upcoming projects, along with the identities of our persona’s.

Tim: How long do we have?

Bruce: 27 minutes. Try to locate the hackers location.

Nightwing, Red Hood, and The Signal

They all rushed to the thirtieth floor to help out and find that the firemen are ready to head to the floor. The three heroes turned on their oxygen tanks and they charged in with the firefighters. Half of the entire floor was covered in flames. They noticed a conference room with a few people inside and Jason rushed to the door, pulling out his guns. He shot the door several times before kicking it down and escorting the people out. After that there wasn’t much left for them to do so they went back down. 

Fire Officer: Nightbird, that is the dumbest thing I have ever seen anyone do.

Jason: *laughs*

Dick: Thanks.

Fire Officer: Lets get you all checked.

Jason: The mask stay on though.

Alfred and Julia

Alfred: What are we watching

Julia: Well, I thought that with both of us being former spies, I thought we could watch an American film franchise called Mission Impossible.

Alfred: And tear it apart by it’s inaccuracies!

Julia: Yes!

Alfred: Sounds wonderful!

Nightwing, Red Hood, and The Signal

Time- 19:37

Medic: They seem fine, no way of telling for sure though without their mask off.

Duke: So we’re good to go, awesome!

Fire Officer: The fire upstairs has been put out.

Dick: Good.

Tim: Dick, are you still at Wayne Tower?

Dick: Yes, what’s up?

Tim: We’re dealing with a hacker trying to get into the server at Wayne Inc. The hacker is inside the building. We have 16 minutes and 55 seconds......

Dick: Say no more! We’re on it!

Fire Officer: There’s been another fire across town. Lets move out!

Dick: Duke, investigate the fire upstairs. If I’m not mistaken, it should be arson.

Duke: Got it.

Dick: Jason, stay here there is a hacker inside the building, You have 16 minutes to find the person or else Batman is doomed.

Jason: I guess I’ll look. 

Dick: GO! NOW!

Jason: Got it Nightbird!

Nightwing

Dick follows the fire fighters down to the floor and tells the guard to let no one in or out of the building. He rides his motor cycle, tailing the fire trucks to the scene of the next fire. He runs into the apartment complex, turning the oxygen tank on. He notices the first floor is clear so he rushes up the stairs to notice the flames stretched out across it. He dives through them and hears pounding on one of the doors. He sees the other residents and grabs two children, takes out his grappling hook, and shoots it towards the ceiling. He leads them down and has them run out of the building. He gets back up to the scond floor and takes the parents and lets them run out as well. When he saw them leave, he jumped back up to the second floor and ran into the door 3 times before finally breaking it down. The flames were now getting closer. He get back up and saw Barbara giving him a hand up.

Barbara: Need some help?

The Signal

Duke: What do you smell?

Fire Marshall: Alcohol.

Duke: Exactly.

Fire Marshall: So.... why did you ask?

Duke: Just wanted to check. Red Hood, Red Robin, Nightwing. Our hunch was right. We have an arsonist inside the building. Some witnesses have said they saw a maintenance worker carrying bottles of vodka in his cart. If I had to assume, both fires are a distraction from finding the hacker meaning there is an accomplice to whoever is in the building.

Jason: Good, now I’m pretty sure I speak for Nightbird when I say this, start helping me search for this bastard.

Duke: On it.

Tim and Bruce

Time- 10:17

Harper: I came as fast as I could.

Bruce: Good, set up your computer.

Harper: Why isn’t Alfred helping?

Bruce: Shut up and get to work.

Harper and Bruce try to fight off the hacker as well as they could. 

Harper: Awesome!

Bruce: Not good enough though.

Tim: What’s up?

Harper: We bought ourselves a few extra minutes.

Tim: Nice.

Time- 13:38

Nightwing and Batgirl

Dick: Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes!

Barbara: Come on! We have one more floor!

The two rush to get the last residents out of the building. The flames were starting to be extinguished by the fire fighters outside of the building. Parts of the ceiling began to collapse as they made it to the top floor. Grabbing the residents they set them down on the floor and rushed to the exit, only to find it blocked by parts of the ceiling.

Dick: Stand back! Batgirl, help me clear the exit.

The two move the rubble out of the way and the residents flee the building. Both ask the authorities if they needed help, but were turned down. When the fire was put out, both walked in, and under the heavy smell of smoke, was also the scent of alcohol.

Red Hood and The Signal

Time- 8:47

Jason was on the twentieth floor, searching, when he got the announcement.

Tim: THE HACKER IS ON THE FORTY-FOURTH FLOOR!!!

Jason: Signal, where are you?

Duke: Fortieth!

Jason: I’ll see you on the forty-four! 

Jason rushed up the stairway and ran up to the forty-fourth floor to see Duke there taking on three men. Jason then pulled out his pistols and shot all three with non-lethal rounds. 

Duke: Had to take away my fun, didn’t you?

Jason: Yes! 

Tim: Did you guys get them?

Duke: All hostiles are taken down.

Tim: Awesome!

Alfred, Julia, Stephanie, Cassandra, and Selina

Alfred: Why would he choose the safe house. If this were reality Ethan would have already been arrested.

Stephanie: Alfred, we love you to death, but your ruining an amazing movie.

Julia: The movie ruined itself by it’s inaccuracies. Plus this is our bonding time, you guys weren’t even invited!

Selina: Yeah, but you guys took the only copy and once we saw you watching it, we just really wanted to watch it, too.

Harper: Oh, cool! Mind if I join?

Alfred: *sighs* The more the merrier.

Nightwing and Batgirl

Dick: Alright, our guy lives in apartment 22 on 1807 Zics Street. Let’s head there now and see if we can find him.

Barbara: Lets head there. Want to get something to eat after?

Dick: Definitely.

Dick and Barbara get on their motorcycles and drove to the apartment where they found the arsonist. They tied him to a lamppost and Barbara informed the GCPD the location of the arsonist.

 Dick: So, how has your dad been doing?

Barbara: Not too bad. He’s been a bit under pressure but he’s doing fine. How is it being a dad at the mansion?

Dick: Ohhh god. I had the thought once and decided to leave that duty to Alfred. 

Barbara: *Barbara laughs*

Dick: I help him a bit. It’s been so difficult acting like a grown up. I had to seriously step in when Alfred called Jason “Master Todd”

Barbara: Please explain further?

Dick: Well, because Jason is, well, Jason, he lost his shit because he’s “not a snooty ass rich motherfucker, Alfred!”

Barbara: Damn, I could so see that.

Dick: Yeah, and it doesn’t help that Bruce totally lost the ability to interact with other people. The other day Damian was acting up and Bruce picked him up and shouted “WHERE’S THE OFF BUTTON!”

Barbara: *laughs harder*

Dick: *laughs himself* You should have been there, it was funnier in person.

The two stare at the sky for a bit as they watch the sun set. Barbara leans her head on Dick’s shoulder and they both relax. 

Dick: I love you Babs.

Barbara: I love you too, Dick.

Dick

They both left the rooftop they were sitting on at around 8:30. Dick had missed Barbara so much and was glad to have been able to see her. He didn’t care he broke one of Bruce’s rules. It wasn’t like Bruce was going to remember anything from the first week anyway. He got into the batcave and began creating workouts for everyone. He then went to the bathroom and took a shower in the batcave, and then went upstairs. He walked into the media room to see Alfred and Julia spending time as a family.

Dick: Aw, isn’t this sweet!

Julia: Get the fuck out Dick!

Dick: Damn, okay.

Dick then walked into the kitchen to see everyone in there.

Tim: Someone took long getting back to the mansion.

Stephanie: What happened.

Dick: I met up with Babs.

Everyone: WHAT!!!!

Damian: No fair. If I knew I could have been with Jon this entire time I would have!

Selina: You’re not able to Damian, and you knew you weren’t suppose to interact with anyone outside of the mansion.

Dick: Chill. Everything is fine. We’re more likely to get sick on patrol then by hanging out with each other. What’s up with Alfred and Julia?

Jason: They got tired of everyone ruining their family bonding time so they kicked us out.

Dick: That makes sense.

There was a knock at the door, so Dick goes to open it.

Dick: Helloooo...............

Helena: Hey Dick, you look great!

Dick slams the door shut and covers the door.

Jason: *shoves Dick to the side and opens the door* Hey, Helena! It is so awesome to see you! What are you doing here?

Helena: I’m here to stay and help. Where should I put my bags?

Jason: You could put them in Dick’s room for right now! You remember where that is, right?

Helena: Yep!

Dick: coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool. *starts falling to the floor*

[whump-tr0pes]

HB4-40/Whumtober day 25

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, and Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

~

Content warning: migraine, emesis, death mention, mention of parent killing a child, implied noncon drugging

~

The room was moving slowly around Gavin, but he was lying still. He blinked his eyes open and winced as even the soft light from the crack in the curtains stabbed into his eyes, feeling like a knife directly into his brain. He squinted and groaned softly as his eyes slowly focused on his own hands, bound in front of him and lying on a pillow, and Isaac, lying next to him on his back, his pinky just touching Gavin’s.

Gavin stirred, and froze as the pain behind his left eye pounded harder. His stomach churned. He twisted his hands against the rope and winced as it bit into his skin.

He squinted – why was his left eye so blurry? – and looked at Isaac where he lay. Gavin didn’t want to wake him; he seemed peaceful, relaxed, his mouth open slightly, the muscles of his face soft and loose. Another wave of nausea rolled over him and he squeezed his eyes shut. He gently placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac jerked awake with a gasp, his eyes darting over the room, his right hand curling into a fist. Gavin collapsed against the pillow with a moan. Isaac found Gavin and froze, then relaxed, all at once.

“Hey,” Isaac said, with a soft smile. His gaze flicked to the rope still around Gavin’s wrists. “Oh, shit,” he murmured, and hesitantly reached out. “Can I—”

“Please,” Gavin breathed. “Don’t… don’t feel good.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed as he fumbled at the knot. “Oh. What… what’s going on?”

“Head hurts,” Gavin gasped, as even the act of talking seemed to make the throbbing behind his eye even worse. “Nauseated. Don’t wanna move.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Is it…? Did something…?” Isaac’s hands stopped on the rope. “Are you… sure I didn’t hurt you last night, Gavin?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gavin breathed. “Please, just… f-fuck, hurts…”

“I’ll get Finn,” Isaac said, and Gavin sighed with relief as the knot came away. “Maybe they—”

“Just a headache,” Gavin said tightly. He carefully rubbed his wrists where the rope had cut into them, just a little, while he slept. “It’s… it’s just…” Just the movement of his hands was enough to tip the room around him. He heaved forward, leaned off the side of the bed, and vomited into the small trashcan there. Sweat broke out over his skin.

“I’m getting Finn,” Isaac said in a rush, practically leaping off the bed. He opened the door and disappeared down the hallway. Gavin groaned as he slumped with his head hanging off the side of the bed. As the blood rushed to his head, the pounding grew even worse, although Gavin didn’t know how that was possible. He dry heaved once, then retreated back until his head lay against the cool of the mattress. The cool felt good.

“…n’t know what’s wrong,” came Isaac’s voice as he approached their room. “I just woke up and he was—”

“Don’t turn on the light,” Finn said, their voice coming from the doorway.

Thank god for you, Finn. Please, please don’t turn on the light.

“Oh. I… why, is that…?”

“Just… give me a sec.”

Gavin could hear the soft sounds of padded feet on the floor, but quieter than normal, as if… as if Finn was trying to be quiet. Even so, the sound crawled under his skin and made him feel sick with it. The air moved around him as Finn knelt beside the bed.

“Careful, I…” Gavin’s mouth was numb. “I… I puked.”

“It’s fine,” Finn said, their voice barely louder than a whisper. “Ellis has had morning sickness all week. It’s just puke. You woke up like this?”

“Y-yeah,” Gavin mumbled.

“No recent head injuries?”

“Not… recently…” Gavin laughed, once, then moaned as the pain in his head ratcheted up another notch. “Oh, god.”

Finn huffed out a laugh of their own. “Okay, fair enough. Ever had this happen before?”

“No,” Gavin groaned. “Oh, fuck, what’s…?” He pressed his hands against his head, desperate to push away the pain. “What is this?”

“It’s a migraine,” Finn said gently. Gavin flinched as he felt Finn’s cool fingers against his head, carding gently through his damp hair. He groaned and pushed weakly into the touch.

“F-feels good,” Gavin whimpered. “I’m… s-sorry, I… I don’t know what’s… happening…”

“Honestly, I’m surprised we aren’t all having them,” Finn murmured, a smile in their voice. “They’re a really common symptom of stress. And—”

“You’re the ones who were stressed,” Gavin said, weakly. “You’re the ones who were being tortured.”

Finn blew out a slow breath through their lips. Finally, they turned to Isaac and said, “Please explain to your boyfriend what a dumbass he is. I’m going to get some ice. One of the theories about migraines is that they’re caused by a blood vessel in the brain dilating and putting pressure on the surrounding tissue. Ice on the back of the neck can constrict the—”

“Not a dumbass,” Gavin whispered, trying to ignore how his cheeks flushed. Isaac’s boyfriend? If he didn’t feel so fucking… sick…

“Yeah, sure, Gavin,” Finn said gently, and the air moved again as they stood. Their voice faded until it sounded like they were standing outside the door. “I’ll be right back, Isaac. I’ll bring a clean trashcan and clean that one. I could try to get my hands on some rizatriptan, too. A classmate of mine used to take it for her migraines. It works pretty well, from what I hear. If this is gonna be a regular thing—”

“You mean this is gonna happen again?” Isaac whispered. “Finn… he… he doesn’t fucking… Finn, just… just tell me what to do. Okay? Just… tell me what to do. He… he takes care of me, all the goddamned time. Finn, please…”

“Isaac… breathe. It’s a migraine. It sucks, but it isn’t life threatening, and there are medications that treat it. I can ask Edrissa if she knows any herbal remedies. She might—”

“You… you won’t tell her who it’s for, right? I mean…”

Finn laughed, softly. “I won’t let her poison him, Isaac. No, I’ll say it’s for Ellis. She’s been going absolutely bananaballs over that baby. She’d be happy to help.”

A pause. “…okay. I just… Finn, he… he doesn’t deserve this. After everything he did… I mean, yeah, no shit he was stressed, he walked the fucking wire for three weeks in that fucking nightmare mansion, for us. And… this is how he’s repaid?”

“I know. Believe me, I know. We’re all dealing with… various versions of this. Ellis says their morning sickness is way worse than the first two times. I’m pretty sure Tori’s got an ulcer, and Vera’s back pain has been… I mean, yesterday she could barely get out of bed. And… well. You’ve seen Sam. Although they’re getting better every day.”

“Yeah, but… Finn, could… could this be… I don’t know, a result of the head injury I gave him? I mean, that was almost a year ago now, but… could something that long ago be causing it?”

Gavin’s chest ached at the guilt in Isaac’s voice. He wanted to call out to him and tell him no, this wasn’t from the head injury, he was sure of it… but he felt if he raised his voice, his brain would catch fire and come melting out his ears like hot cheese. The thought made him gag.

“I… don’t think so. I mean… yeah, technically, it could be from that, but it’s way, way more likely that it’s from the stress. I mean… don’t tell Ellis I said this, but… I’ll never doubt his place in the family again, because of how much he sacrificed for us. His mother would have skinned him alive if she ever got even a hint that he wasn’t hers, and that he still cared about us. And he did all that anyway. It would have been… much, much easier for him to just go with it, and let her kill us one by one. I mean, she might have still killed him, but she might not. And he would be… I mean, fuck, Isaac, he was… tortured. And the torture he put himself through, lying for us… what he made himself do to you…”

“I know,” Isaac said brokenly. “There’s… no way I could ever thank him enough for what he did for us. For… for me.”

“You have a lifetime to try, Isaac.”

For a moment, the pain faded, pushed right out of Gavin’s head by his shock. He’d hoped they’d let him stay, but there was some small part of him that believed they were only letting him stay until rumors of their survival had faded, and he could be released again with minimal risk. He’d hoped they’d want him, as part of their family. He’d hoped Isaac would let him stay by his side.

The pain rushed back in and Gavin whimpered softly. Finn and Isaac were silent for a moment. The smell of his vomit was making him sick. He pressed his face against the mattress.

“You… you think he’d want me for that long? A lifetime?”

Finn sighed. “You’re both dumbasses. Yes, Isaac, I do. You’re… you’re literally the first person to ever show him what love looks like. You think he took you just for shits and giggles? I mean, for that reason, too, but… I think he wanted to see what it was that made you so special that you’d give yourself up for Sam.”

“I’m not special. Anyone else would have—”

“You are to him, Isaac. And to the rest of us, too, but absolutely to him. Now… let me go get some ice, okay? I can grab the trash can in a sec.”

“No, I… I can do that,” Isaac said, his voice low and gentle. “It’s fine.”

“…okay. Well, I’ll be back. Grab the trashcan from the bathroom.”

“Yeah.”

The voices faded. Gavin floated in the pain, every heartbeat grabbing him and pulling him back down into his body. The room moved slowly around him, the sour smell of his own sick rankling in his nose. There was a rustling, and when Gavin peeled his eyes open, there was a fresh trashcan on the floor beneath him. He sighed and pulled the covers up over his head.

After a long moment, several minutes or several hours, he couldn’t tell, he felt the mattress dip as someone sat next to him. The blanket was drawn back from over his head, and a cool compress settled on the back of his neck. He groaned softly as the cool pushed away the nausea for a moment.

“Thanks, Finn,” he whispered. Then, fingers trailed gently through his hair, and he whined softly. He’d know that touch anywhere. “Isaac,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Isaac said softly, his hand moving slowly across Gavin’s forehead. “I asked Finn to let me bring you the ice.”

“Mmm,” Gavin moaned, and his eyes slid shut again. “Thank you.” His left eye ran tears into the sheets.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” Isaac whispered. “I… didn’t know what you needed.”

“Neither did I,” Gavin mumbled. “Ice is good, though. And… and you. You’re… good.”

Isaac huffed out a laugh. “Ah. I just brought the ice—”

“But… it feels good. Thank… you.”

Isaac was silent for a moment. “Yeah, Gavin,” he said after a while.

Every heartbeat pounded in Gavin’s head. For a while, the ice helped. Gavin stirred and opened one eye, cringing when the light from the hallway stabbed into his head. “Do you… do you need to do anything else today?” he said weakly.

“I don’t have anything to do but be here with you,” Isaac whispered. “Unless you want me to go.”

“No,” Gavin sighed. “Stay… please?”

Every breath, every second, seemed to move through Gavin in slow motion. He thought back to the headaches he’d had after Isaac put him in the hospital. Those never lasted for very long, because whenever he started complaining of a headache, his mother would give him something that made him sleepy and dizzy, and he’d crawl back to bed and doze until it was over. For the first time since reaching the north, fear sunk into Gavin’s chest that if any of the team got sick – and Finn couldn’t help them – they were hundreds of miles away from the state-of-the-art hospitals that kept him alive when he’d been close to death. He curled into himself and tugged gently on his own hair, desperate for relief.

The compress on the back of his neck began to warm. Gavin whimpered, tears of frustration running from his eyes. He felt trapped in his own head, assaulted on every side by the faint light from the hallway and curtains, and by the sounds of the others somewhere else in the house.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, was a vague memory of another cool hand on his head, a soft kiss in his hair, a low voice, soothing him as he lay in bed. Pain spiked in his head and he shoved the memory away. He didn’t need to think of her, not now.

Isaac’s hand slid down the back of his head and down his neck, under the compress. “Let me get a new one,” he said softly. The mattress bounced slightly as he stood. Gavin lay still as he walked out of the room, although all he wanted to do was to cling to Isaac, beg him to stay. The headache was getting worse.

A moment later, an eternity later, the mattress dipped again.

“Hey,” Isaac’s voice whispered, and Gavin could have sobbed with relief. “I have some tea… try some?”

Gavin moaned and obediently lifted his head. A cup pressed to his lips and he took a sip. It tasted herbal, sweet, with a hint of spice as well. There was a faint sound as Isaac put the cup on the nightstand.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Something Edrissa made,” Isaac murmured. “Tea with peppermint, lavender, ginger, rosemary, and honey. She said those herbs are good for migraine.” He pressed a fresh cold compress to Gavin’s neck.

Gavin moaned weakly. “She… tell her thank you,” he whispered.

“Hm. Maybe someday,” Isaac said. His voice sounded sad. “For right now… that tea is for Ellis, as far as she knows.”

“I hate lying to her,” Gavin whispered. “If she ever finds out, she’ll… she’ll hate me.”

The unspoken words hung in the air between them: she already hates you.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Isaac murmured. “You can tell her once you’re better, if you really want. Right now, let’s just… focus on getting you over this. Finn already called into Burmingham to see if they carry riza— I don’t remember what it’s called. Sounds like they can order it and have it in within a week.”

“Hope I don’t get another migraine before then,” Gavin rasped, and pushed weakly into Isaac’s hands as he stroked his hair.

“Yeah,” Isaac said weakly. “Me… me too.” Isaac’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “Can I… do anything else? For you? I mean… do you need anything else?”

“I just need you,” Gavin whispered, not caring how that sounded. “Can you… can you just… I don’t know. I just want you with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Isaac said gently. His hand moved down to gently massage the back of Gavin’s neck. “Is that… okay?”

“Yeah,” Gavin sighed, and shuddered as another wave of nausea rolled over him. “That’s… that’s good.”

Continued here

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[hopelikethemoon]

The Guilty (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Guilty Rating: PG-13 Length: 3100 Warnings: Mild Angst. Medical Triggers ( loss of consciousness and discussion about pre-eclampsia, etc.) Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in March 1997. Part two in the “big angst arc”. There’s a POV switch midway through for obvious reasons. Summary: Reader follows her gut. 

Taglist:  @grapemama​  @seawhisperer​ @huliabitch​ @pedropascalito​ @rogrsnbarnes​​@thewallpapergoesorido​ @twomoonstwosuns​ @gooddaykate​ @livasaurasrex​ @ham4arrow​​@hiscyarika​ @plexflexico​ @readsalot73​ @hdlynn​ @lokiaddicted​ @randomness501​​@fioccodineveautunnale​​  @roxypeanut​ @just-add-butter​ @snivellusim​​@amarvelousmandalorian​ @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04​ @mrsparknuts​​@synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​@awesomefandomsunited​ @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​​ @space-floozy @ct-arc-5555​​ @cable-kenobi​​

At noon you made your way down to the records room where Lieutenant Ableman had put the intern. Javier had been hesitant about you asking Monica what she knew about the rumor, but… you had to know. If the rumor was loud enough to make its way to the dean’s office, then it was loud enough for the students to be fully aware of it. 

“You know,” You started, leaning against the doorframe as you watched Monica sort through a stack of files and put each one into the appropriate banker boxes. “I had a sweet gig when I was sixteen helping process evidence at my town’s tiny ass police department.” 

Monica startled a little, dropping the folder she was holding. “Shit! Hey! How long have you been there?”

“Couple minutes.” You laughed. “Just thinking.”

“How have you’ve been?” Monica asked with a hesitant smile. “You’re due soon, right?”

You shrugged a shoulder as you rested your hand on your stomach, “Still got a few months to go.” You walked further into the record’s room, leaning down to pick up a stray file that had fallen. “How are your classes going?”

“I’m in this finite math class that is killing me.” Monica answered, making a face. “I was told it would be easier, but… C means complete, right?”

You chuckled, “I’ve heard that somewhere.” You moved to sit down, feeling the slightest inertia from bending over. That was happening far too often lately. “I’ve heard a lot of things lately.”

“Oh?”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the sensation of being able to feel the world spinning around you. “A couple weeks ago I heard about this crazy rumor at the university.”

“What was it?” Monica stared at you, looking a little nervous.

“Oh, just that Javier was cheating on me with a student, which…” You laughed humorlessly. “Is hilarious, because I have that man by the balls.” 

“I—.” Monica shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything about that. I think the whole class knows that Javier loves you. I mean his office is practically a shrine to you.”

“I know.”

Monica swallowed thickly. “I should… I have a lot to finish before my night classes.”

You weren’t about the let up, “Why are you so nervous, Monica?”

“I’m not nervous.��� She shot back too quickly. “Look, I’m really sorry about this rumor or whatever… I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

“Or Javier will lose his job.” You rubbed at the center of your forehead, trying to soothe the throbbing headache forming there. “I mean, a rumor like that could destroy someone’s career.”

Monica put the cardboard lid on the banker box with a little more force than necessary. “I really… I haven’t heard anything.” She didn’t meet your eyes. 

“Look, you’re a nice kid Monica…” You offered her a small smile. “I’m not accusing you. I just want to know what you know. And I think you know more than you’re telling me.”

You started to stand back up, fingers gripping at the filing cabinet beside you for support. Shit. 

Your pulse was throbbing in your ears. You could feel it in your throat, down your arms. 

Fuck.

“Monica…”

“Hey. Hey.” She grabbed your arm to support you. “I’m here.”

You clenched your eyes closed, trying to ignore the way that the world was closing in on you. Everything felt like it was in a tunnel. Voices — distant and kind of tinny sounding. Your lips felt numb, your words slurred and mouth full of cotton. It felt like pins and needles up and down your body. 

“Call Javi.” You managed to think or maybe say… just before everything stopped. 

 ——

 Everything stopped the moment Javier got the call. He wasn’t even entirely certain how he ended up at the hospital — the period between the phone call and arriving at the hospital was a blur. He vaguely remembered swearing at a red light for lasting too long — he definitely went through it. 

“Mr. Peña, right this way.” A nurse said as she guided him through the emergency room, back to her room. “The doctor will be with you both shortly.” 

Javier’s heart clenched as he looked at the hospital bed, meeting her eyes. She looked awful. They had her hooked up to oxygen and she had an IV. “Hey baby.” 

“Hi, Javi.” She said quietly, his voice half of what it usually was. 

His gaze flickered to the woman sitting beside her bed. Monica. She jumped up quickly, gesturing to the chair she’d been sitting in. “Here, Professor Peña… I’m so…” She looked between the two of them. “I’ll just go.” 

“I have questions.” Javier said, his jaw clenched tight. “Do you mind waiting in the waiting room?”

Monica clasped her hands together. “Of course… Yeah.” She looked towards the hospital bed. “I’m so… I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you—”

“Just let her go, Javi.” She whispered, gesturing for Monica to leave. 

“What the hell is going on?” Javier questioned, his hands on his hips. Before he grabbed the chair and pulled it closer to her bedside. “Baby… you gave me a fucking heartattack.” 

“You and me both.” She breathed out, reaching out for his hand. “I was terrified.” 

Javier squeezed her hand tightly, lifting it to his lips. “Have the doctors talked to you?”

“A little.” She sank back against the bed. “They took some blood.” She said, lifting her arm to show off the bandage. “I guess they need to check kidney and liver function.” 

Javier stood up, leaning over the bed to press a kiss to her forehead. “It’s your blood pressure, isn’t it?” He questioned, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “Baby.” 

“Yeah.” She grimaced a little. “I’m actually fortunate I was down in records with Monica. She… saved me.” She swallowed thickly. “She knows something. I don’t know what, but… that girl is guilty.” 

“I told you not to.” Javier shook his head, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re supposed to be keeping your stress levels low. And what? You decided to start questioning my students about this bullshit rumor and now you’re in the fucking hospital.” 

“Javier.” She shot him a look. “I passed out. It happens.” 

Javier dragged his fingers through his hair, taking a step away from the bed and turning his back on her. He was so fucking pissed and he didn’t know who to be pissed out. He couldn’t be pissed at her — even though she’d done exactly what he had told her not to do. He wanted to be pissed at Monica if she was behind the fucking rumor. He’d been so lenient with her — late work, missed classes… 

His fingers curled into fists at his side and he shook his head slowly. He so fucking angry. 

“Javi.” She whispered. “Come here.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I’m the one in the hospital bed, I get to call the shots. Come here.” 

Javier’s shoulders sank as he turned around to face her. “I thought I was going to lose you.” 

“You didn’t.” 

“I get a call that you’re in the hospital unconscious and you don’t think I’m going to lose my mind, baby?” He dragged a hand over his face and looked away. “I can’t fucking lose you. I can’t.” 

“You’re not going to lose me.” 

Javier paced the short distance he could in the room. “What the fuck does she know?” He questioned, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Is she the one spreading the rumors? I swear to God if it is—”

The door opened slowly and the doctor stepped inside. “Bad time?”

She sat up in bed and shook her head slowly. “My partner’s under a lot of stress at work.”

“Stress that seems to be rubbing off on you,” The doctor’s brows raised suggestively. “I’m Dr. Smith,” She offered, shaking both of their hands. “If you’d like to sit Mr. Peña we can talk about what happened and how we can prevent this from getting worse.”

“Of course.” Javier mumbled, ducking his head as he moved to sit back down in the chair beside her bed. He reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers. “Is she going home today?”

“She is.” Dr. Smith smiled warmly. “With a number of changes, however. Fetal heartbeat is strong, I’m not concerned about the baby's health right now. Mom’s health is my primary concern. You came in here with a blood pressure that was 150/90. That’s a dangerous level for anyone, but especially while pregnant.” 

“So, what do we do?” Javier questioned.

“A whole lot of nothing.” Dr. Smith answered with a levity-offering chuckle. “You’re going to have to stay at home. I’m prescribing you to remain on bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy.”

“Are you fucking serious?” She grumbled, sinking back against the pillows. 

“Yes. I know it’s inconvenient, but it’s necessary. If your blood pressure remains high, you’re at much higher risk for strokes, seizures, and placental abruption. The last thing we want to do is have to induce labor early. Everything looks great with baby, it’s just you we’re worried about right now.”

“When will we get the results back from the tests? You took blood, right?” Javier questioned.

“In a few hours. We’re just going to keep her for observation for a few more hours. Get that blood pressure down. You’ll be home tonight.” Dr. Smith answered, offering both of them a small smile. “Do you have any questions?”

“Will the delivery be more difficult?” She questioned, rubbing her stomach. “I didn’t have any problems with Josie.” 

“I’m not going to rule that out,” The doctor explained. “Your obstetrician will be best able to answer that. Where did you deliver?”

“In Colombia.” She answered. “But I didn’t have any issues like this and that… was stressful.” 

Javier scraped his teeth over his bottom lip as he looked between the doctor and her. The mere mention of Colombia had his own blood pressure spiking. This was all his fault. She was laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to wires all because of him.

“I need to…” Javier drew in a shaky breath. “Shit. Josie... “ He raked his hand over his face as he stood up suddenly. “Daycare. I need to call Steve.”

“Are you alright, Mr. Peña?”

It was all his fault. 

“I need to call someone to pick up our daughter.” Javier looked towards her then. God, she looked so weak. So pale. 

The doctor said something to him as he left the hospital room, but he was gone before he could make it out. He headed down the corridor, retracing the path the nurse had led him along, heading out the double doors that led to the waiting room.

He headed for the payphone, fishing a couple quarters out of his pocket. 

Steve offered to pick her up and bring her to the hospital. They both figured Josie might make her mother feel a little better. She was a cuddle monster whenever she knew someone wasn’t feeling well. 

It was his fault she wasn’t feeling well. 

He was the stupid fucking selfish idiot who had wanted another try. He was the one that had wanted another kid to make up for all of the shit he missed out on in Colombia. 

Javier slammed the phone back into the cradle before bringing his fist down against the top of the box. He was so fucking angry at himself. They had Josie — why couldn’t she be enough for him? Why had he wanted to have another child? To put her at risk. 

And she was at risk. 

“Professor Peña?”

He tensed, slowly turning to look at Monica. “Why are you still here?”

“She asked… I can go?”

“Don’t you have classes?”

Monica swallowed thickly and lowered her gaze to the ground. “I feel awful about what happened. She just… she was asking me about the rumors and…” She shook her head. “I didn’t know she was having trouble with her pregnancy. I didn’t know.”

Javier narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” She looked up then. “I didn’t… mean to. But it was so much money and…”

“What?”

Monica glanced over her shoulder warily. “After work one day. The internship.” She gulped a little, looking like she was actually about to cry. “He had a badge.”

His jaw rocked as he stared her down. “Who had a badge?”

“Someone with the Drug Enforcement Administration.” Her cheeks flushed with shame and she stared at the ground. “I’m so sorry. But it was so much money and I…” 

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice on him. 

The motherfucking DEA?

“What the fuck did they tell you to do?”

Monica took a step back, “To start the rumor.” 

“Why?” Javier questioned, fingers clenched at his sides. 

“I don’t know.” Monica admitted. “It was ten thousand dollars. You have no idea how much I needed it… I couldn’t say ‘no’.”

He took a step backwards. 

The article. It all had to do with that goddamn article. His idea. 

“I need…” Javier bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “I need to go sit with her. I need to…” He flexed his jaw, turning away then. “I can’t fucking do this right now.” He didn’t even look back at her, he headed straight back into the emergency room, back to her room, back to her bedside. 

She was asleep. Whatever they’d given her to help calm down had clearly knocked her out. She needed the rest. He knew she hadn’t been sleeping well — not since the start of the rumor. Not since he gave her those five fucking envelopes. 

All of it. All of this. 

It was all his fault. 

There was a clock on the wall that was ticking. Each second growing louder. 

This was his punishment. 

All those people. The people he failed. People who died. The people he wasn’t able to save. 

“Javi.” She whispered beside him, reaching out to touch his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Just rest, baby.” He pleaded quietly. 

“You look like you need to be admitted too.” She smiled at him. “Babe, I’m fine. My blood pressure is just high. I fainted. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

“But what if you’re not fine? What if this…” He clenched his jaw and shook his head. 

“And what if you got shot in Colombia? Don’t treat me like a fucking flower over ‘what ifs’, Javier.” She pulled her hand away from his face and rubbed at her forehead. “You know how much I hate being treated like an invalid.” 

“I don’t want to do this right now.” Javier shook his head. “I want to get you home and then… we can talk about everything. What we’re going to do…” 

“It was Monica wasn’t it? My gut was right, wasn’t it?”

Javier stared at her, before nodding his head slowly. “Yeah.” He laughed bitterly. “It wasn’t just Monica… it was the fucking DEA.”

Something beeped on one of her monitors.

“Just my pulse. It slipped off my finger.” She assured him, readjusting the clip on her forefinger. “What do you mean it was the DEA?”

“You need to relax, baby.” Javier reached out and rested his hand on her stomach, his other reaching for her hand. “We can talk about this at home. When you’re not… hooked up to fucking wires.” He sat back and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “This is fucking bullshit.” 

“Javi.” 

“We’re not doing this.” He stood up, hands on his hips. “I’m not losing you.” 

She held her hand out, “Come back here. You have to keep your shit together for Josie, Javier. You can’t be freaking out like this.” 

“It’s all my fault.” Javier let the words slip out of his mouth.

There was a knock on the door before it opened to reveal Dr. Smith on the other side again. “Good news.” She said with a hesitant smile. “Your organs look good, but we are still concerned with your blood pressure. We can bring it down if you keep your stress levels down—” She gave Javier a pointed look. He knew he was red in the face, still fuming from everything. “I’m going to send you home with a prescription for anticonvulsants.” 

“What does that do?” Javier questioned.

“It’ll stave off seizures. She hasn’t had one yet, that we know of. But with her blood pressure range, it's potential. They help prevent them. But rest will be best.” The doctor looked towards her bed then. “We can get a letter sent to your office.”

“I’ll handle it.” She promised. “Or Javi will. Whoever. They’ll understand.” She laughed bitterly. “I’m a walking worker’s comp claim.” 

“And the baby’s fine?”

The doctor nodded. “Both of them should be fine if her environment is kept calm.” 

“We’ve been going through a lot.” Javier admitted, staring at the floor. 

“We just moved.” She explained. “And some stuff from our past has been giving us issues. It’s nothing that we can’t resolve.”

“After you give birth.” The doctor reminded her. “I’ll start the discharge process within the hour. Good luck.” 

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” She sank back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t lash out at her.”

“Who?”

“Monica. She’s just a kid, Javi.” 

Javier sighed heavily. “I wanna fucking punch a wall.” 

“Try not to make a mess.” She quipped dryly. “And I can’t exactly help you hide the body like this.” 

“You’re going to bed when we get home.”

She made a face. “Sounds like the bed is going to be my new home.” She tilted her head to grin at him, wiggling her brows. “Sounds like fun, yeah?”

Javier glared back at her. “How can you make jokes?”

“Because if I don’t I’m going to fucking lose my shit.” She shot back. “I was so scared.” 

“I know, baby.” He took her hand into his and leaned down to kiss each knuckle. “I’ve got you though, okay? I’m going to take care of you and Josie and the baby.” 

“Bean.” 

“What?”

“You called her bean. Remember?” 

Javier cracked a small smile. “It was little legume, I believe.”

She grinned at him, “We’re going to be okay, Javi. I promise you.”

“That’s just the medicine talking.” He leaned down and cupped her cheek, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Steve should be here with Josie soon… then the three of us can go home.” 

“That sounds nice.” Her lashes fluttered. “I need a nap.”

“Yeah you do.” He laughed softly, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. He hated seeing her like this. Weak. Exhausted. Not her typical fiery self. 

She could say it wasn’t his fault, but he knew it was. And he fucking hated it. 

[fangirl-on-bitches]

Bittersweet

Javier Peña x Female!Reader.

Word Count: 4k approximately.

Summary: You and Javier have a particular way of saying goodbye, so particular you get a surprise when you get back to the US.

Warning: a lot of cursing, a bit of pregnancy shenanigans, a lot of dialogue and a little messy plot and timelines lol.

A/N: Okay, listen before you continue. When I was younger I used to write, maybe not with the best grammar or the best plot, but sure as hell with a lot of creativity. Now I just can’t be that creative to write a complete fic or hc, so if you find this boring or a waste of time I’m really sorry. If you like this, I appreciate it as I really made an effort to finish it (a crapy ending anyways). I’ll be sincere, I had this idea and couldn’t get it out of my head so I wrote it. I feel like the scenarios aren’t realistic to what could happen in real life (I feel like they are forced or way too dramatic) I really hope I don’t waste your time. (and yes, I chose the name in honor of Pedro’s role in triple frontier)

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You were cursed. Definitely.

You were back in the states, had been for a few weeks, enjoying the warmest sun Miami had to offer along with Connie. You loved relaxing by a peaceful beach after years of chasing after Escobar with your life on the line every hour of every day.

That day you were really excited to wake up and meet Connie to go to the beach, it had been so long since you saw her and little Olivia. You felt at the same time a little uncomfortable with your body that day, bloated and kind of heavy, like there was extra gravity, but the excitement overwhelmed whatever other feeling you might be having.

The beach had some people because it was a nice day, so you lounged along Connie and baby Olivia, eating fried fish with chips as it was beach food. You were laughing at something Connie said about Steve, something about being a pain in the ass, which you agreed with. It was all fun and games until you felt horrible nausea and a pushing need to vomit. Connie, being observant noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong?” before you could answer you ran to the restaurant’s bathroom, puking whatever food you had that day. Connie came close behind you. She gave you a paper towel so you could wipe your mouth.

“Okay, I might be sick.” you admitted flushing the toilet.

Of course, your mood just plummeted to the ground when you were sitting in a private room in the hospital. Connie couldn’t check you, but she was looking for her friend on-call, meanwhile, you looked as baby Liv (as you called Olivia) slept peacefully by your side.

You didn’t like hospitals. They reminded you of your time in Colombia, and although you weren’t shot, your compañeros might have been shot multiple times. There had been too many close calls and so many lives lost, you just got the creeps whenever you heard a gurney moving.

Soon, Connie came back and carried Olivia outside, leaving you with her friend. She presented herself, and asked routine questions. How are you feeling? What happened? Does something hurt? Is your period late? Did you fall and hit your head? Do you have any diseases? Or do you take any medication?

“I do have nausea and I threw up after eating.” She nodded as she took your blood pressure. Then you started thinking. You were thinking really hard.

Your period was late, you didn’t remember how late, but it was late. Two months ago, Steve and you caught Escobar. Steve went straight back home and you had to stay, to finish completing paperwork. Then Javier was back in Colombia to follow the Cali Cartel, but you were assigned back to Miami and couldn’t stay.

To be fair, you were glad to be back home, but you really missed Javier. When shit went down with Los Pepes you were pissed off at Javier. You knew he usually overstepped the line to get intel, but this time he had stepped so far off the line, he wouldn’t be able to see the line.

The night before he left you decided you would drink your consciousness off because you hated to even think that Javier Peña was living in Colombia; after a glass of a really strong Rum and Cola you decided against it and knocked on Javier’s door.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, suggesting that he wasn’t up to listening to more of your nagging. Your head had a million thoughts racing, you wanted to tell him so many things varying from ‘you are an idiot’ to ‘why the fuck did you do this?’ but the only thing you articulate was something like ‘I don’t want you to go’

Javier’s face softened, although you cast down eyes couldn’t actually look at his face, he had stepped aside and invited you inside. “Do you want something to drink?” you shook your head, looking around the apartment. It was almost empty, but it has been pretty empty since the beginning. You sat on the floor, Javier following with a beer in his hand.

“Will you come back?” you asked him, but you already knew the answer.

“I don’t think so, it depends on the higher ups in the states” you nodded, looking at him. You were really going to miss him. “Look, it’s not like we won’t see each other anymore, when you guys catch Escobar-” you laughed humorlessly. How long would that be? Months, another year perhaps? 

Both of you stayed in silence for a while. “I should go.” you told him, standing up, he stood up as well.

“You shouldn’t go.” He told you, squeezing your shoulder tenderly, a familiar touch. You looked at his sweet dark brown eyes, a silly small smile playing on the corners of your lips.

“What do you mean? You have a plane to catch tomorrow.” you remind him, wondering if he was drunk, he clearly wasn’t. His hand, which was still on your shoulder, moved to cup your face. For a second, you were lost and didn’t understand what was happening, until you looked at his eyes again and understood. You didn’t wait for him to lean down, you just wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

You would lie if you have never felt curious as to why every informant in Colombia gave Javier the intel he wanted. After that night you understood why. He was passionate, attentive and a really generous lover. You might have even believed him if he had blurted out an ‘I love you’.

The only reason why you let this happen was because Javier was supposed to stay in the US, officially he wasn’t your (or Steve’s) compañero anymore. And that was true, even when he came back.

“Okay, so your results are in. After you told me you’ve been missing your period for quite a while, I drew some blood to analyze it.”

“Yeah, it must be stress. You know, I worked in Colombia with Connie’s husband and moving back here plus all the work I have to do was really stressful. Also, I had a UTI back in Colombia, I wasn’t drinking enough water and I read that the strain might move my period a little.” you started rambling. For some reason, you felt jittery, almost anxious at the look on the Doctor’s face. She had a grin in her face, really big and excited.

“That may delay your period for two weeks, but it won't magically make it disappear, dear.” She read the results once more and nodded to herself. “As I suspected, you are pregnant.”

“W-w-what?” you mumbled. “But I didn’t pee on the stick.” clearly, your brain had short-circuited.

“I have some pregnancy tests if you wish to take them yourself, but the blood analysis is pretty accurate.” she offered with a nice smile. You nodded and took the box going to the bathroom, trying to focus on reading the instructions.

The stick said you were pregnant. And you knew exactly who was the father.

You sighed at the papers you were reading, the office already empty, way past dinner time. Since catching Escobar, hours were cut short, but to you they were really slow. Steve wasn’t there, he had left a few weeks ago, Javier obviously wasn’t there. It was just you, some files and occasionally some booze to help you relax before sleeping. Thankfully, you would be leaving shortly.

On your way back to the apartment complex you stopped by a grocery store. You needed ice cream, and lots of chocolate, and some chips. Probably some booze too. You had bought a flask of whisky that reminded you of Javier, although whisky might not be your first choice of booze.

That same flask almost fell to the ground when you saw goddam Javier Peña entering his apartment, a big suitcase by his side.

He also noticed you, the dark bags under your eyes and messy hair evidence of your hard work. 

“Oh my god” you whispered, unbelieving. You walked and hugged him, relieved to see him again. “You are back?” you stupidly asked.

“Yeah, they want my intel and help to track down the Cali Cartel.” he answered.

“Well, that’s weird.”

“What?”

“My orders are to finish paperwork and return to Miami. They didn’t tell me to stay to help.”

“Well, it’s a different operation this time, more discreet.” he tried to hint you that it wasn’t just DEA business anymore, it was more a CIA kind of work. You invited him to your apartment, that had two boxes of things you were going to give to charity, you didn’t need all this stuff back home, you already had them.

He explained his situation while you shared the flask of whisky and bid good night like the old times, no kisses or sex, or nothing like that. Which was fine.

Everything was fine for the next few days. Javier even helped you pack your stuff and sort it out. The night before returning home he offered to go to the bar you always went to with Steve and him on Friday’s or Saturday’s (sometimes even a Monday)

Both of you drank like you always had, but instead of bidding goodnight and going to bed separately, you both had sex. Again. It was probably a coping mechanism, the way both of you said goodbye to each other. Such a complicated method.

So, so complex that now you were pregnant.

With a child.

Javier's child.

It had to be his, you only had sex with him within the last 3 months. Since Colombia you hadn’t have sex.

This was bad. It was complicated. You didn’t plan for a child; working at the DEA (chasing after Escobar) left you almost no time to think about dating, much more less building a fucking family. 

Could you do this? Hell yeah, you are an awesome strong woman.

What you couldn’t do was tell Javier.

When you came out the private room, you were fidgeting with your hands, Connie came and took them. “I’m pregnant.” you blurted out. Connie looked at you shocked; then you noticed little baby Olivia wasn’t on her arms.

Steve, in all his blonde mustache glory stood with his daughter on his arms, looking as shocked as Connie. “What?” he asked.

“Who is the father?” Connie inquired.

“What are you doing here?” You asked Steve.

“I came to pick up my wife and daughter for dinner. Why don’t you come with us and tell us more about this?” You nodded out of inertia, but you looked at your hands while walking, Connie hooking her arm with one of yours.

As you sat on traffic, you tentatively touched your belly. It was... normal. No kicking, no large or really hard belly. It was like there was nothing there.

You would have declined dinner if you knew the questionnaire that would come from the Murphy’s. Well, questionnaire would be an exaggeration, but you didn’t really like the single question they were asking.

“Who’s the father?” 

“I- I can’t tell you.”

“Why? We don’t know him?” you sighed and reassigned. You knew they would ask forever.

“Please, please, please you have to promise me you won’t tell anybody. Both of you.” you looked pointedly at Steve. He nodded but held your gaze, trying to figure out what you were really trying to say. A second later he muttered something.

“Jesus fucking christ.”

“What?” Connie asked but soon realized. “Oh, no way. Javier?”

“It’s Javier.” you confirm their suspicions.

“Are you certain?” Connie asked.

“Of course.” you paused and then added. “You can’t tell him Steve.”

“What? Why?” he sounded slightly offended.

“I should tell him first. He should hear it from me.”

“I can’t believe this. The minute I come back home you two just pound at each other.”

“It wasn’t like that, and technically you were still in Colombia the first time.”

“The first time?” he asked with a chuckle, he looked very happy.

“The second time I was the one leaving!” you paused, moving the food around your plate. “How the fuck am I going to tell him? I can’t just call him and be like, ‘hey I’m pregnant and you are the father. How’s the Cali stuff going?’. This kind of news aren’t told over a call.”

“But it’s different, it’s not a normal situation. Javier could be in Colombia for years.” Steve reminded you.

“It wouldn’t make a difference. He can’t come back until his work is done.” You rolled your eyes, there was no good alternative.

“So you plan to just hide this from him?” Connie asked, her look full of pity, if it was for you or Javier, you didn't know.

“Only until I know he’s coming back. I’ll check on him every once in a while. I’ll need you to call him too, Steve. I don’t want him to suspect me.” He sighed but nodded nonetheless. You sighed as well, a million thoughts racing through your head.

You called Javier that same week. Of course, it was unexpected for him but really welcome. Colombia was not rainbows and sunshine. “So how’s the Cartel treating you?”

“It’s a fucking nightmare, but hopefully it won’t take long. I can't talk too much over the phone about this, who knows who might be listening.” he sighed, sounding really 

“Yeah, you are right.” for a minute, you thought about telling him. Then you decided. “Please take care and be careful.”

“Of course compañera.” he assured, you could practically hear the smirk in his lips. After ending the call, you pressed the heels of your palms in your eyes. How in the world were you going to tell him?

–––––– 

A month turned into two, and then five months flew by in the blink of an eye. Javier was not coming back for the time being and your belly was starting to pop. Your head was still working on how in the world were you going to tell Javier, which was the only problem you had right now. It wasn’t even a big problem, if Javier wanted an out of fatherhood he was free to go, but you had been so happy since day two (day one was a full shock) that you honestly didn’t care.

You were getting way too ahead of yourself. Maybe Javi wanted to be a father and he would be really happy with the little baby. But that wasn’t the Javier you knew, and that’s why you were so afraid to tell him. 

Today looked like the best day to tell him. You were going to probably get to know if the little baby was a girl or a boy. You were waiting patiently for him to pick up the call in the hospital public phone. After a while, he picked up.

“Hello?” his voice sounded gruff and stressed.

“Hi, compañero. How are you?” you asked, a hand on your belly.

“As fine as I can be here,” he answered. “What did you want?” he asked abruptly, almost tired of talking to you. It stinged a little.

“I just called to check in…” you lied, maybe it wasn’t the best time to tell him after all.

“I’m going to be as clear as I can. Don’t call me, unless you are fucking dying.” you felt a piercing pain in your throat, a tight knot forming, making it really difficult to talk.

“Fine.” you hissed and hanged the phone, tears slipping down your cheeks. Fucking hormones. Fucking Javier. 

Connie, who was waiting for you anxiously to come back, hugged you. “It’s okay sweetie, it’s okay.” you nodded and wiped your tears.

“I’m okay. I just need to focus on my baby and myself right now.” you told her and rubbed your belly.

“Of course honey.”

––––––– 

It had been a really smooth and sweet pregnancy, you were really happy with your 5th month old baby boy Francisco. He was really sweet, but he had so, so much of his father, the resemblance was uncanny. Deep brown sweet eyes, and a mop of soft brown hair.

Javier had not called you since that horrible last call. You knew he called Steve every once in a while, but you asked Steve please not to tell you anything about him. Both Murphy’s just assumed you had told Javier about the pregnancy and that he had not taken it well.

This was a lie. Javier had no idea you were pregnant, much more less with his child. But he was still in Colombia, so unless you told him he would not hear it from anyone. 

It hurted you deeply, not being able to tell your son who his father was. However, all around your house there were pictures of Steve, Javi and yourself from Colombia. Connie and Olivia were there too, even Carillo. 

Anyways, the baby was too young to notice the absence of his father. Maybe by the time Francisco starts wondering about daddy, Javier would be around the USA to talk.

Your son cooed and asked to be held up, it was time for his nap. Just in time, you thought, Steve was coming over to pick him up as you were going to meet your best friend in an hour or so. Your baby boy soon fell asleep, you held him in against your chest, rocking him gently.

Then the doorbell rang.

“Steve, you are early. Fran just fell asleep.” you told Steve. But it wasn’t Steve. Javier fucking Peña stood in the door way, his eyes looking at your son. You frowned and tried to hide Francisco’s face sneakily from him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, compañera.” he said, but his mind was not entirely focused on whatever he was saying. His mind was in the baby, and about how quickly you had moved on.

“Don’t compañera me.” you hissed, in a hushed tone, the baby in your arms sleeping soundly. “Come in.” you told him, as you turned around to leave your baby on his cradle. 

Javier looked around, looking for any sign of the baby’s father. But he only found pictures of you, Steve, Connie, baby Olivia and other people he knew. Then he started thinking, what if the baby was his child?

No, that’s not possible. 

“So?” you asked, really anxious. You had no idea he would be here. You were not prepared for this. But really, would you ever be prepared?

“I came to apologize.” Javier simply said, his hands on his hips.

“Took you a little long.” you said, rubbing your hands together. “If you apologized sooner I could have…”

“Could have what?” you exhaled and sighed, trying not to cry. 

“You are not supposed to be here.” you whisper, your voice cracking softly as you sit on your sofa. Javier sat by your side and you felt the weight of your decisions constrict your chest, making it harder to breath.

You were a horrible, horrible person. How could you deny him knowing he was a father? That he had a child? It didn’t matter how angry you felt, or how much of an asshole he had been. The baby was made by both of you. He had the right to know.

“I’m sorry.” he was not sure why, but he really was sorry. You shook your head, and started to tell him that you were sorry, repeating like a prayer. “Hey, hey” he tried to calm you down, rubbing his hands up and down your back. “Breath, baby. Breath.” you complied, breathing deeply. After a minute of silence you took his rough big hand and held it, squeezing it slightly.

“Javier, I got news for you.” you started, and felt his hand tense. “The baby boy, Francisco, he’s your son, our son.” He looked at you, his eyes wide, looking like a deer in the headlights. “That time I called you, I was pregnant, and I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me after?”

“You told me not to call you unless I was fucking dying.” you exhaled and stood up. “Look you don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to, I had Francisco because I wanted to, but I didn't expect anything from you.”

“Not getting involved? What are you talking about?” he asked offended.

“I’m sorry, and I mean no offense, but you don't strike as the kind of guy who would want a family, or children.”

“And what the fuck do you know?” he raised his voice a little, making you cringe a little.

“I’m sorry, and I can’t do anything to return back time.” you told him sincerely. A loud whine was heard from your room, where the crib was. You sighed and went to your room, to calm Francisco down. Unbeknownst to you, Javier followed you looking how you delicately held him and rocked him. The baby’s eyes were still closed, he was just a little disturbed.

You looked at the door frame, Javier stood there, looking at the child. You walked to him, your intentions clear. “Do you want to hold him?” you asked your voice soft and soothing. Javier gulped, feeling suddenly nervous, he didn’t know how to hold a baby, what if he dropped him? “Don’t worry, I’ll help.” you offered, a kind smile in your face.

Javier extended his arms and you walked closer, softly passing your son to Javier’s big arms. Francisco whined a little and Javier’s face cringed, making you smile. “Hold him against you,” you helped, gently pushing his arms, closer to his chest. Francisco was fast asleep again. Javier just looked at him, marveled. You guide him to the sofa, making him sit there with your son. “I’ll be right back.” you tell him, and at the panicked face he made, you had to quiet your laugh. “You’ll be fine.”

You called your best friend, telling her you wouldn’t be able to meet her. When you stepped back on the living room, someone knocked on the door, it must be Steve. You opened the door and gestured to him to be quiet, pointing at the couch, were Javi sat (finally) relaxed.

Steve did not enter the house as you promised to call later. You returned to the living room and sat beside them, contemplating how peaceful they looked. Javier had moved your son, laying him against his broad chest. You caressed the baby’s hair, looking at him with doe eyes.

“Want to stay for dinner?” you asked standing up. Javier nodded and then lay his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes. You smiled and entered your bedroom to change your clothes into something more comfortable.

You had nothing figured out, but you were happy knowing your son had a loving father to grow up with. You’ll figure your relationship out (if there was going to be one).

After some minutes, you heard some gurgles coming from the living room. Javi fell asleep, and Francisco was wide awake, looking at his father curiously, moving his little hands. You took the baby from him, kissing his chubby face. “Your daddy is sleeping, baby. C’mon, let’s give you some mashed banana.” you told him, caressing Javier’s hair back.

You spent some long 20 minutes feeding and nursing your baby boy while you also checked dinner. Javier, still fast asleep on the couch, woke up with a start, touching his chest, as if missing something. “Where’s the baby?” he asked, looking around.

“He’s here, Javier.” you told him from the kitchen, a silly smile on your face. Javier sat by the table, feeling self conscious at the baby’s gaze over him. His son’s arms moved up and down, talking unintelligible gibberish. “He likes you.” you commented, cleaning his chubby face. Javier held his hand out and Francisco took one of his fingers, squeezing with his baby strength. Javi’s heart skipped a beat.

Eating together was really weird, but at the same time it felt right. You noticed Javier’s tired face and wondered if he came straight from the airport. So you asked, sparking some conversation. You talked about what finally happened with the Cali Cartel.

“You got a place to stay?” you asked, but you knew the answer. “You can stay here if you want. Hotel’s are really expensive right now.”

“You sure?” you nodded. You forgot how well you clicked with Javier, it was a nice reminder.

He helped you with the dishes, and then went to shower, getting his suitcase for clean clothes. You prepared Francisco for bed, giving him his formula bottle after changing his diapers.

You saw Javier getting out of the bathroom, and thankfully had the decency to wear full pajamas, you would have fainted at the view of his bare chest.

“So, I’ll go to the couch, do you have a blanket?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “I was going to tell you to sleep in the bed with me. We already shared a bed before, so I don’t see a problem. Plus, I could use the help if Francisco wakes up.” you commented with a cocky smirk. You usually wore just a t-shirt to bed, but today you had to use full pajamas, like Javi did.

“Okay.” Javier said, not really convinced. Francisco was asleep already, his father caressed his little hand with his finger. You were already under the covers, ready to hit the bed, Javier looked tired too.

He laid down, under the covers as well, looking at the ceiling. He moved looking at you, you were both face to face, generous space between both of you. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, and took his hands on yours.

“Sleep Javi, you look tired.” you kissed the back of his hands and closed your eyes, sleep getting the best of you. Javi smiled, his face soft, getting a little closer, leaving his hand on yours, then he shut his eyes. He had never felt more at home. 

[dayas]

15 + jiara

15. “Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!” 

Ah yes, the angst. The angst meant specifically for me. K’s angst.

NO BUT FORREAL ty for sliding me this! The moment I saw it I was like YESSSS.

So let’s get it!

—

Kiara Carrera is many things. A coward isn’t one of them. She likes to think she’s one of the best of the Pogues when it comes to being under pressure. The honor of Baddest Motherfucker With The Coolest Head goes to John B, seeing as he doesn’t ever let panic blind him. He’s quick on his feet, always lurching forward.

Kie’s second merely because her jitters tend to show a little bit. When she gets scared, she’s a little antsier. Far from bouncing off the walls like the Maybank pride and joy she knows and tolerates (read: way more than tolerates, but that’s beside the point). She tries to stay calm and keep everything under wraps, but she’ll glance around, run her hands through her hair, little things.

Pope is third, because despite his ever present, “We’re gonna die!” whenever shit gets a little too real, he’s eerily cool and calm in a crisis when he needs to be. Anything medical he can handle, slicing through his panic like he will when he’s got a coroner’s scalpel in his hand one day. Kie’s gotta hand it to him; when Pope is truly needed, he always shows up.

That leaves JJ, and the reasons go as follows. One, that boy cannot keep a cool head to save his life. Panic seems to engulf him, sharpen him in some ways, soften him in others. His regular fidgeting and antsiness turns up to a thousand, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from sprinting off and leaving them in the dust.

(She doesn’t realize until much later that he stays with them because he would rather face whatever comes together. Even with the choice to run away, he stays.)

Two, his movements. They become grainy, lost in translation muffled by shaking, creating the first rains for a hurricane of panic. He’s always jumpy for a few moments after the danger has passed, too. Kie’s spine doesn’t soften until he exhales afterwards, head back, eyes closed.

Three, the final storm. The hurricane of panic, when it blows, is as gut wrenching as it is illuminating. It’s a different sort of torrent than when he’s angry and brings a firestorm in his wake. He closes in on himself, makes himself smaller. It’s kind of funny in a sick way, Kiara thinks, because JJ can never be small. He’s too big of a person to hide, and she figures that’s why he fights. Even if he’s freaked out, his fists will fly and land, consequences be damned. They always come, but if it calms him down, she can’t be too mad. She hasn’t quite figured out a healthy way for him to release all that anger yet.

But this isn’t about him. At least, not entirely. It’s about her, and it’s about fear. Kiara’s chilling at the Chateau when her phone lights up in a text. Then another, and another, and pretty soon it’s dinging every second. She scrolls through, heartbeat slowing when she reads them all. It’s just JB and Pope in the groupchat, trading puns and jokes. JJ’s silent, but then again, he could be off doing a JJ Thing. So Kie rolls her eyes (both at herself and her friends), sends off a few remarks and laughing emojis before settling back in. The book she’s reading is for school, which is a little out of pocket for her. Doing her homework at The Chateau isn’t Kie’s style. This place is Pogues Only; Kook trinkets aren’t welcome here, be they backpacks or books. But she hasn’t been able to put the story down.

And yet, she can’t concentrate.

Every time her phone lights up, she checks it. At the slightest noise, she’s glancing around. Is this what paranoia feels like, she wonders bleakly as she attempts to return to her book.

You need to calm the fuck down. Now.

She takes a few deep breaths, remembering a few exercises from a project she did on stress her freshman year. God, that was ironic. It takes an hour and a half, but she’s finally to the point where she can read without her brain scattering at every wayward thing in the background. At least, until the door damn near pops off its hinges as it bursts open, slamming against the wall.

Kie’s book flies off of her lap, open pages fluttering as the spine hits the ground when she leaps up off of the couch. She turns quickly, exhaling in relief when she sees a flash of blonde.

“What the fuck, JJ, you scared m — ” she begins to exclaim at his back, following him into the kitchen, only to stop dead in her tracks when he turns around. There’s a gash on his forehead the length of her hand, fingers to wrist. From what she can see, it isn’t deep enough to need stitches (Thank God) but it’s still able to be considered serious. He’s favoring his right leg over his left, left arm awkwardly cradling his side. The pieces click in Kie’s mind as she traces the bruises she can’t see, and one hand reaches up and yanks on her hair.

“What happened?”

She curses the way her voice quivers, but she can’t help it. This looks really bad, all of it.

“Nothin’, Kie,” JJ shrugs, swallowing. She catches a dot of red on his lips and steps closer, shaking her head vigorously. An exasperated sigh escapes her lips, snapping out through the air like a rubber band.

“I’m serious. Don’t worry about it.” His words do nothing to tamper her sudden blaze of attitude.

“This is not nothing, JJ.”

“Dude, chill out. It’s cool, I just got into a nasty brawl with some kooks, and one of those fuckers pulled a knife on me. But it’s all good.”

“What about this is fucking ‘all good’?”

“Everything, Kie! I’m fine!”

“Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!” 

Siezed by a strange urge, she rushes up, grabbing paper towels and pressing them against his head wound. It’s still bleeding, and she knows they bleed a lot and she knows Pope would be better at this and she knows she still has to clean him up but she can’t leave well enough alone and right now, she’s all he’s got.

Kiara’s trembling now, with rage, with frustration, with fear. Panicking around a person who needs help is never good, but she’s understood since they were kids that when it comes to JJ, every single rule gets thrown out the window. She’s closer than she needs to be, her body gently pressing his back against the edge of a counter while she applies pressure through the blood soaked paper towels.

“Did your dad do this?”

She has to know. It’s none of her business and it won’t change the situation, but that doesn’t stop her from asking about it. They’ve never really talked about what his dad does to him, but he’s never come home as fucked up as this.

Kie watches a tear fall from his eyes and she forgets about what she’s doing. Red and white hit the floor as she wraps her arms around his neck, holding onto him. She doesn’t squeeze, mindful of the injuries that could be underneath his shirt. He doesn’t seem to care, arms curving around her waist and pressing her to him. She cards her fingers through his hair gently as he shakes in her arms. Her hair is a little wet, but she couldn’t care less about it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to him, and it’s not about pity. It’s about how fucked up it is that the person who’s supposed to love and protect their child could almost kill them himself. It’s about the fact that he has to face this and there’s nothing anyone can do about it, because if you live on The Cut and the DCS comes knocking, nothing good ever comes of it.

“Me too,” JJ mumbles into her hair, and she fiercely responds, “Don’t ever apologize for that bastard. Ever.”

“For scaring you,” He ammends quietly, and her Oh reverberates around the room silently.

“You didn’t scare me,” she lies and she thinks she hears some remnant of a chuckle when he says, “You damn near ripped your hair out when you saw me like this. You were scared shitless, Kie.”

She doesn’t let his words sink in, because if she does, she will be tempted to do something both of them will regret. Even so, the little rebellious part of her brain tilts her head and presses a kiss to his neck. She thinks she feels him freeze so she holds him tighter, and she hopes her gesture is forgotten. It’ll live in her head rent free for the rest of the week at least, but if it makes her friend feel better, she can deal with the fallout.

After an eternity, she pulls away. Their hands link as she leads him to the bathroom, cleaning him up. He’ll be limping for a couple days due to the injury he sustained on his leg, but it should heal up fine.

When Sarah finds them tangled up on the futon together the next morning, she doesn’t say a word. She pulls a blanket over them both and heads out to distract John B and Pope until they can wake up.

It’s a strange sort of feeling, panic. Sarah felt it walking in and seeing them. Not for herself, but for them both. Panic is what curls Kiara against JJ. It keeps their legs interlocked and her head on his chest. Sarah doesn’t have to know what went down to know what two people holding onto each other for dear life look like. She and John B had the same thing after the Phantom went down. So she goes out of the Chateau and does what she needs to do.

In her sleep, Kiara smiles.

—

That’s all for this ask! Thanks for asking!

[the1918]

Bespoke, Chapter 5 is taking me a stupid amount of time to finish, and I feel so bad about it that I’m going post post a teaser here :) This is about a quarter of the chapter. Hope you like it!

Teaser for Bespoke, Chapter 5

[Story No. 2 in the Compatibile A/B/O Universe]

Pairing: Shrunkyclunks (Cap Steve Rogers / Modern Bucky Barnes), of the bearded Alpha Steve and Omega twink!Bucky subvariety

Rating: Story Rated E for Explicit, this excerpt Rated T for Teen

Tags: A/B/O, sugar daddy!Steve

***

December 15

Thursday - 2:15 P.M.

Elevators in medical buildings always smelled like rubbing alcohol and iodine, which was definitely not Bucky’s favorite smell. He breathed through his mouth instead of his nose as the elevator descended the fourteen floors from Dr. Pete’s office suite, down to the ground floor.

Bucky had left work early that day to catch his monthly blood work appointment. Unpleasantly sterile smells aside, he was breathing especially easy that afternoon, for two reasons. First, he had finally wrapped up the enormous project he’d been working on in his lab for almost eight months, and he’d passed it off to the StarkTech testing department. Getting that load off his plate was a massive relief, and it came at the perfect time; he could now embark on his Vermont vacation (tomorrow!) with Steve and leave behind the weight of work on his shoulders. Second, the results of Bucky’s blood work had shown his hormone levels right where Dr. Pete had expected them to be, based on the Heat time-table they were anticipating. No early Heat.

Bucky was more stress-free than he could remember feeling in six months.

As he stepped out of the elevator to the ground floor, Bucky immediately felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a text message from Steve.

 [2:15 P.M.] Stevie: Done at Pete’s yet?

 Instead of walking out onto the cold, winter-time city streets, Bucky found a bench in the lobby and sat down to respond.

 [2:16 P.M.] Sent: Yep, just finished.

[2:16 P.M.] Stevie: Great. Any surprises?

 Bucky knew Steve was referring to his blood work. He typed out his response knowing Steve would be relieved by the results, just as Bucky was.

 [2:17 P.M.] Sent: Nope. Everything was where Dr. P thought it would be.

[2:18 P.M.] Sent: He says I look on track for April, maybe February if it comes early.

 Bucky watched his phone. There was no response from Steve for a while, and Bucky worried that he may have spooked him with details about their time-table. The two hadn’t talked about Bucky’s next Heat much at all since their first and only therapy visit with Dr. Welsh, but Bucky knew it was hanging over their heads. If his Heat came within the conservative margin of error that Dr. Pete had estimated, they could theoretically be dealing with it in less than 60 days. With it would come Steve’s rut, and if they didn’t make any significant, tangible progress on the knotting issue before then, they could very well be dealing with something they weren’t ready for emotionally. The pressure, however silent, was there.

His phone vibrated again just as he was pulling out his gloves to head out onto the street.

 [2:22 P.M.] Stevie: Good to hear. You got any other plans this afternoon?

 Bucky frowned. He wondered if Steve was going to ask him for a late lunch, and he wished he hadn't already eaten.

 [2:23 P.M.] Sent: No. Was gonna come home for the day, help you out with the lighting installation.

[2:23 P.M.] Sent: Why?

[2:24 P.M.] Stevie: Because you have plans now.

[2:24 P.M.] Stevie: [Blue Serenity Spa]  - You’ve Been Sent a Link on Google Maps!

His confused frown deepened as he clicked the link. It took him to the location of some sort of day spa in northwest Brooklyn, not far from their apartment. Before Bucky could text back a ‘???’, another text from Steve came through.

 [2:25 P.M.] Stevie: You have an open-ended appointment starting at 3:15 P.M. Any and all services you ask for. I got you scheduled for a massage already, but you can change that if you want.

[2:26 P.M.] Stevie: They have my card info. Don’t you dare to even think about looking at the price list.

[2:26 P.M.] Stevie: Better go catch the next train baby ;)

 Flabbergasted, thumbs paralyzed and seemingly unable to type out another text, Bucky decided to just hit the call button on Steve’s contact. He placed the phone to his ear and he suddenly felt antsy as he waited for Steve to pick up. There was no ‘hello’ when the ringing stopped, only Steve’s teasing voice.

“I thought I told you to head for the train?”

“Steve,” Bucky began, emphatically. “What is this? You booked me a spa appointment?”

Steve was silent on the other end of the line for a long moment, and Bucky wondered if it was because he was more nervous than his confident communication let on.

“Yeah, angel. I did. Look,” Steve sighed, “you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d like this, I’m sorry. I just thought—”

“Woah,” Bucky interjected. “Hang on, I never said I didn’t like it. I just… I guess I don’t know why you want — why you think I deserved—”

“—You don’t know why I think you deserved to be pampered, Buck?” Steve interrupted, incredulous. “Really? After you just worked your ass off at work for months to finish a project that no one else could have even dreamed of doing? The technology that Tony’s been yapping to me about since before I even knew you?”

“It’s still technically in R&D,” Bucky muttered, blushing. Steve had always been supportive and enthusiastic about Bucky’s engineering work, but it still never ceased to make him feel a little bashful when Steve got to actually raving about him and his skills.

“Yeah, and the finished product is going to be amazing, because Bucky fucking Barnes developed it.”

Bucky laughed and fiddled with a thread on his sweater.

“You… you’re sure? I’ve never really been to a spa like that before, and it looked really nice on Google…”

“And it will be nice for you, which is exactly what I want.”

“Stevie…” Bucky smiled to himself and shook his head, a little at a loss for words. “I really was going to come home and help, you know. It takes more than two hands to put up some of those bigger fixtures.”

“Doesn’t have to be your hands, though. That’s why Sam is here.” Sure enough, in the background of the phone call Bucky suddenly heard Sam’s voice, hollering something that sounded a lot like, ‘go get a fucking rub down, Barnes!’.

Steve chuckled, and then Bucky thought he could hear him walking away.

“Also…” Steve said, volume lower, “last night, you put a plug in your ass and begged me to nail you on Tony’s conference room table. I think treating my baby to a spa appointment is the least I can do when you’ve just fulfilled multiple fantasies I didn’t even know I had.”

Bucky barked out a laugh at that. He looked down at the clock on his new smart watch—another gift from Steve—and realized that he really did have to head for the train if he was actually going to do this. He stood up and grabbed his bag.

“Alright… alright,” he conceded. Steve’s smile was almost audible through the phone. “You’ve convinced me. Thank you, Stevie.”

“No thanks necessary, baby. I wish you would let me treat you like this all the time, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Finally walking out onto the cold and busy sidewalk, Bucky was just about to say his goodbye and hang up when Steve chimed in again.  

“By the way, I just put in a call to Tony. You’ll be hearing from him very soon.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped. “Shit. Did he figure out what we did? I mean, cleanup was a bitch, and we definitely had to throw away that undershirt after using it as towel, but I think we did a pretty good job covering our tracks? God, I’m gonna be in such deep shit with him—”

“No, nothing like that,” Steve chuckled. “I mean, there’s no way he doesn’t know, but he also knows damn well that he better come to me first if he’s got a problem with it. Besides… He probably considers it payback.”

“Payback? For what?”

“A story for another time,” Steve promised. “Are you at the station yet?”

“I’m walking there right now.”

“Alright, I’ll let you go. Have a relaxing time, baby. You deserve it. And use your time there, okay? I don’t want to see you home before six. Hell— keep ‘em ‘till they close, if you can manage it.”

“Okay,” Bucky laughed. “Thank you, Steve. Seriously… and I love you.”

“I love you, too, and I really love you when you let me spoil you.” Bucky could practically hear Steve wink. “Bye, honey.”

 As Bucky walked the familiar route to the subway station, his phone dinged again, this time from Tony.

 [2:44 P.M.] Tiny Snark: I literally cannot look at your face after what you did to my conference room with your jackass boyfriend.

[2:44 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Do not come in tomorrow.

[2:45 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Consider it extra paid vacation, you disgusting pond scum.

[2:45 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Seriously. I better not see you or your vile beau again until January.

 Bucky probably looked like an idiot laughing so hard alone in public, but he didn’t care.

 [2:46 P.M.] Sent: Thanks Tony. Merry Christmas.

[2:47 P.M.] Tiny Snark: Yeah, and Happy fucking New Year.

 Bucky stuffed his phone in his pocket and abandoned himself to his thoughts as he jogged down the steps into the station, marveling at the wonder that was his boyfriend. Sometimes, he still could not believe that Steve was his. Steve—who had not only been a supportive partner to Bucky from the very beginning, but who was also a powerful and attentive lover, and—most importantly—the single greatest source of Bucky’s joy. By the time he reached the subway platform, waiting for the train, the sudden enormity of his gratitude for Steve had begun to bubble up and spread within the depths of Bucky’s chest, and he felt fit to combust with it. He had to remind himself just to breathe.

How had he gotten so lucky?

***

I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek! Their relationship is about to head in a very special direction, starting in this chapter.

[evelynns-sugar-bby]

Will you write a lil scene where Lexa gets hurt during a game with Clarke watching in the stands?

The arena is quiet as she walks down through the stands to get to the front wall. She basks in the near silence for a moment, knowing it will be gone in a few hours as the fans scream and cheer for their favorite team. Her eyes are drawn to the field as she descends the steps, watching intently as the team does some light drills.

Her eyes fall to the number 14 as she gracefully catches a ball on her foot, controlling it in front of her before she chips it over the goalies head and into the goal. The team cheers around her as the goalie drops to her knees. Her girlfriend turns around with a smug grin and a glint of mischief in her eyes. 

Clarke cups her hands over her mouth and cheers, gaining the soccer players attention. With a bright smile, Lexa picks up her pace and jogs right past the teams line and straight to the stadium wall that separates the seats from the field. 

“That was sexy.” Clarke says with a smirk as her girlfriend pulls herself up on the wall. Lexa shimmies her body up and sits sideways on the edge, letting her feet dangle. She presses two sweet kisses to her girlfriend’s lips and smiles softly. “Am I going to see that again later today?”

“I will try my best.” Lexa answers with a chuckle. “No promises though, Endler is a beast and one hell of a goalie.”

“Nuh uh.” Clarke says with a shake of her head. “That’s not what I want to hear, try again babe.” Lexa rolls her eyes with a fond smile.

“Yes, Clarke, my love. I promise to score a sexy goal just like that later today… better?”

“Much.” She leans forward and kisses the soccer player, savoring it for a second longer. When she pulls away she takes a moment to glance down at the blue team warm-ups her girlfriend looks so fine in. “Have I mentioned how good you look in this?” She says while biting her lip causing Lexa to laugh.

“Once or twice, I think?” 

Clarke bites her tongue and smiles cheekily.

“Where are the others?”

“Grabbing some food and beer at concessions.” She leans in and whispers, “Don’t tell Miller, he doesn’t know.” Lexa lets out a hearty laugh and Clarke kisses her cheek in response.

“How scandalous, the girls of Arrival take a cheat day without telling their trainer. I’m selling this story to TMZ immediately.”

Clarke gasps in faux surprise, her hand coming to rest on her chest. “Alexandria. You wouldn’t!”

A shrill whistle pulls their attention away from each other and back to the field where they find the team looking at them.

“Woods, get down from that wall before you break something! We’re running it again, you’re up!” The coach calls. 

“Duty calls. I love you.” She says, pressing a quick kiss to the blonde’s lips before she drops to the ground landing stealthily on her feet.

“Good luck beautiful.” Clarke says with a loving smile as she steps back and plops into her seat directly in the middle of the stadium. She watches Lexa jog back to the field.

“You and Wilder are ridiculous.” The coach mumbles as Lexa runs past him. She turns and starts jogging backwards towards the line so she can face her coach. 

“Young love, my good sir!”

“You’re 27 woods, that’s not young love. Get your ass back in line!”

“You’re going to have to go through the same thing again in 30 seconds, Raven’s on her way down right now!” She nods back to the stands and sees the rest of the girl band and Lincoln walking in.

“Ow ow #6! Looking good!” They hear Raven yell as she watches Anya juggle the ball over her feet. The coach lets out a stressed sigh, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Anya kicks the ball to her nearest teammate before jogging to the same spot Lexa was just in.

“We’ll get the job done sir, we always do!” Lexa finishes before she turns to start the drill.

“I know you do Woods… I know.” He whispers with a fond smile as he watches Lexa kick a bullet of a ball into the back of the net.

\\\

Lexa wasn’t lying when she said Endler is a beast. 20 minutes into the first half and the score is 0 - 0, Endler having saved every ball that has been shot at her. Some were basic goalie saves, but others… dear god Clarke found herself wondering how she could make some saves like that. 

Lexa and Anya have been working their butts off to set up quality goals but Endler stays strong in the net. It’s frustrating.

She continues to watch as the US steals the ball and works their way back up the field into an offensive position. Lexa is positioned just in front of the circle at the center of the pitch when the defender passes her the ball, but it’s loosely knocked away as a Chilean defender heads it upwards. With her back to the goal, she watches the ball slowly float up and looks around her to see there are no immediate defenders. She has plenty of room to secure the ball.

But much to everyone’s surprise, Lexa Woods doesn’t let the ball drop on her chest in order to control it and regain possession… no. She throws her body back, straightening her legs and extending them upwards in a bicycle kick. Her foot connects to the rubber of the ball and she sends it upwards and across the field. 

The stadium goes quiet as it watches the ball soar across the field. Everyone on the field stops, Lexa rolls over onto her stomach and they all just watch.

“It’s too high.” Raven shakes her head as they watch the ball arch higher. And fuck she’s right, it’s going to go over the net.

But then it starts to drop. 

A collective, “Oh my god.” is gasped out by the group as they watch it continue to drop in a perfect arch.

Christiane Endler jumps to block it, but even with her being 6 feet she’s too far forward to stop it.

The ball soars into the top left corner of the goal.

The stadium erupts into a deafening cheer, and Clarke would argue to say it’s more euphoric than hearing a crowd chant her lyrics back to her. Being there to witness a goal like that, from near center circle, let alone witnessing her girlfriend scoring a goal like that, then to hear the reaction? It’s indescribable.

Lexa pushes herself to her knees, points her hands upwards and lets her head drop back as she cheers. She punches her right fist in the air three times before she’s tackled to the ground by Anya, the rest of the team following.

An echoing chant of “Lexa! Lexa! Lexa!” ricochets through the stadium, Clarke and the group vocalizing with them. When the team finishes their celebration, and giving Lexa congratulatory pats and shoulder rubs, the soccer star makes eye contact with her girlfriend in the stands. With her eyebrows quirked and a smug smile she shrugs her shoulders in question, her hands facing upward as if asking,

‘Was that sexy enough?’

Clarke nods in response, her smile too wide to control. Because yes, that was sexy enough.

\\\

There’s three minutes of added time in the first half. Lexa’s iconic goals remains as the only goal scored so far, leaving the US up 1 - 0 against Chile. The US controls the ball and passes it back and forth, keeping it away from Chile as they run out the time.

In the final minute, Chile gets anxious and puts pressure on the ball causing the passes to become rushed and off target. In a quick moment, two players connect with the ball causing it to fly up in the air. 

Not wanting a repeat of what happened last time, three defenders cover Lexa as the ball drops towards her. They all jump at the same time, and move their heads to connect with the ball. Lexa makes contact and gets the ball out, the Chilean defender makes contact too… not with the ball, but with Lexa’s face. 

When they come down, Lexa doesn’t get up. She rolls over and stays rooted on her stomach, her head dipped slightly. The US kicks the ball out of bounds allowing the ref to stop play. Immediately, the medics are running onto the field and Clarke’s stomach churns. She’s up on her feet watching intently as they move Lexa onto her knees. 

And it’s then she realizes why Lexa stayed rooted on her stomach with her head tucked slightly. 

Her nose is gushing blood. 

She gasps, her hands coming up to her face in shock. She can’t move, forgets to breathe. There should never be that much blood coming from someone’s nose. 

“That’s broken.” Raven decides next to her, and it’s the voice next to her that snaps her back into reality.

Lexa’s hurt, Lexa’s in pain, she needs to be by Lexa. It’s as if everyone in the group knows what she’s thinking because as soon as she places her hand on the rail an arm is around her stomach.

“Don’t, Clarke.” Lincoln whispers softly in her ear.

“Lincoln let go of me!” She yells as she tries to wiggle out of his grasp. But he’s too strong. They’re causing a scene but Clarke can’t bring herself to care. These people can stare all they want, but she has to get to Lexa. She needs to take care of her and make sure she’s okay.

“Clarke.” He says calmly, but the blonde continues to fight. “Clarke!” He finally snaps, his voice harsh. He feels guilty given the circumstances, but he needed to have Clarke’s attention. “Jumping onto the field in an anxious haste is the last thing you should be doing.”

“I need to be with her. I need to help!” Clarke worries, her eyes flashing between Lincoln and the field where the medics and holding a towel over Lexa’s face.

“What are you going to do Clarke?” He asks and the blonde startles.

“What?”

“What could you possibly do in this situation? Are you trained in how to fix broken noses?”

“No, Lincoln.” She gasps exasperatedly, “She’s my girlfriend, I need to be by her side!”

“If you go down there, you will only get in the way of the medics who actually know how to fix her nose.” She sighs and Lincoln knows he’s finally talked some sense into her. “Look at Anya.”

They turn to the field and see Anya watching the medics and Lexa intently as she paces the field, a far distance away. “See how nervous she is? That’s her best friend. She is just as scared as you are, she wants to help just as much as you do. But she’s staying away. Because she knows, there is nothing she can do right now.”

The blonde deflates, collapsing into Lincoln’s arms. She presses her forehead against his chest, closes her eyes and sighs heavily. He wraps his arms tightly around her and the pressure helps. She feels two more sets of hands softly rubbing circles on her shoulders and lower back.

“It’s alright, Clarke.” Octavia whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head. They hear the stadium erupt into soft cheers as Lexa is escorted off the field and immediately taken to the tunnel. Clarke whimpers as she sees the white gatorade towel is now completely red, Lexa still pressing it to her face gingerly as she disappears to the locker room.

They play out the remaining 30 seconds, nothing happening. Anya is the first one to run off the field as soon as the whistle blows.

\\\

It seems like they wait forever. It’s only been 20 minutes, but that seems like an eternity when you’re waiting to hear back about your girlfriend’s bad nose injury. 

They watch the team jog out back onto the field; the stadium cheers but Clarke, Raven, Octavia, and Lincoln watch adamantly. Anya is the last one to jog out of the tunnel, her head down and her shoulders slouched slightly. They’re not surprised when they don’t see Lexa, they figured she wouldn’t come back out after an injury like that but they still deflate at the reality of it.

Clarke’s stomach doesn’t stop fluttering with anxiety and guilt. 

‘I should be with her right now.’

“Excuse me, Ms. Griffin?” her head shoots down to the field where two security guards in bright neon jackets are looking up at them. “If you’ll come with us, we’re here to escort you to the training room. Lexa is asking for you.”

She doesn’t have to think twice before she is swinging a leg over the railing. She gets both legs over before she lowers herself and lets her legs dangle. It’s then that she realizes the drop is farther than she thought. How Lexa managed to just jump, and land like it was no big deal is beyond her. She feels a pair of hands tightly grab her waist.

“I’m here.” The security guards says, and Clarke releases her hands, letting the guard guide her to the ground. 

“Thanks.” She huffs, rubbing the soreness from her hands. She looks up to her group. “I’ll be back.”

“Keep us updated.” Raven says and Clarke nods out a yes as she walks, the security guards on either side of her. She ignores the cheers of her name as she walks past the fans and towards the tunnel. It’s a quiet walk, but it’s quick, the training room being just up the hallway and to the right.

One of the guards opens the door for her and her eyes immediately find green. Lexa’s nose is slightly swollen and covered in medical tape, the area under her eyes a deep purple. It’s worse up close.

“Lexa.” She whimpers, rushing into the room to be by the soccer stars side. Lexa smiles as big as she can without causing herself pain.

“Hey beautiful.” She grimaces slightly. “How about that goal?”

Clarke startles for a second, before breaking into a watery laugh. “Are you serious?” She chuckles.

“What?” Lexa asks curiously.

“You break your nose and the first thing you ask me is, ‘how about that goal’?” Lexa just smiles brightly, seemingly forgetting about the broken nose. She fights off a whimper. “God I love you.” Clarke says through a laugh then kisses Lexa’s forehead. 

She presses their foreheads together and takes a second to breathe. Lexa’s alright. She’s her same usual goofy self. She’s okay.

“How long?” Clarke whispers gently, pulling away slightly to look at the damage.

“At least a month, then we’ll reassess.” She answers, her voice laden with sadness. “I’ll get to wear a sexy face mask when I come back.” She smirks slightly, her eyebrows raising teasingly but Clarke ignores her.

“I was so scared.” Clarke admits. “I almost jumped onto the field. Lincoln had to stop me.” 

“I heard.” Lexa chuckles.

“You heard?” Clarke asks with a confused quirk of her brow. 

“The entire bench heard your little scene. Once they realized I was okay Ontari and Sonnett acted it out for me.” Clarke groans and pulls away from the soccer player.

“Those little shits.” 

Lexa lets out a full bellied laugh for two seconds until the pain kicks in and it’s too much. “Ow ow.” She whimpers, and waits for the pain to fade away before she begins talking.

“I’m glad they told me.” She starts, her hands grabbing at Clarke’s waist to pull her closer. “I’m beyond lucky to have someone like you, who cares about me so much. Thank you, Clarke.” With a soft smile, Clarke leans in and presses a kiss to Lexa’s lips. An unusual, high pitched cry comes from the back of Lexa’s throat causing Clarke to pull away quickly.

Lexa is holding her head back, her eyes watering as she tries not to let the tears drop. 

“I’m so sorry!” Clarke worries, her hands cradling Lexa’s face.

“That has to be the worst part about this.” Lexa says through a harsh breath as she tries to control her breathing to ease the pain.

“What? The pain?” Clarke wonders.

“God no, not being able to kiss you.” Clarke laughs.

“Well you can’t kiss me because it hurts too much, so technically… it’s the pain.”

“Alright smart ass.” Lexa says with a smile and a pinch to the singer’s side. Clarke squeals. Lexa straightens up, her face looking square at her girlfriend. “So, how do I look?”

Clarke presses a gentle hand to the side of Lexa’s face. Even with a nasty injury she still is the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. With a soft smile she whispers, “The gauze really brings out the green in your eyes.”

[mxvladdy]

Dinner for Two

Hello again! Hope y’all are doing just groovy. 

Here’s another fic! It can also be found here ! 

I got some WIPs in the works so it’s back to the coal mines for me. 

Chapters: 1-2-3 

The world spun again, more forceful than before. Reaching out blindly you grasp for the closest thing to you. This time it was your friend Genji. Cool metal wrapping around your forearm helping you steady yourself as you breathe through the wave of nausea.

“Doctor! Are you alright?” His scarred brows raising in worry looking for a place to let you rest. He leads you slowly to a nearby bench and away from your workstation.

You wave off his concern resting your fevered brow on your knees taking steady gulps of air in hopes to alleviate the sick feeling. “I'm fine. I'm fine. It's just exhaustion, haven't been able to sleep well of late.”

“Hmmm.” He sat nodding knowing the feeling all to well. “Missing your bear?” Genji joked releasing his hold on you to give you some space, his tone still laced with worry.

You chuckle dryly emerging from your ball to lean back, resting on the metal wall behind you. You did miss Jesse. It would have been a down right lie to say otherwise. His warm body encased around you, shaggy chestnut hair fanning out on his pillow. The whiskey smoke smell of him, an oddly comforting scent.

He was halfway through a six month mission with Soldier, Winston, and Angie to America looking into a Talon lead. As an infiltration mission, it requires time to build trust and connections. Meaning it was a pain in the ass for everyone.

I've been missing ya somethin’ fierce doll. Can't stop thinking about ya. Bed’s too cold nowadays. I wish ta god you could have come along. But can't be puttin’ all our medics in the field. His low timbre reverberating through the tinny speaker of your phone. Everytime he called it was a double edge sword, you were overjoyed that he was alive and safe. Yet it made the miles apart feel even longer.

You look up at Genji's patient expression. “I do.” You admit accepting the ninja's help getting up, the sickness passing as quickly as it had come. Genji nodded sagely heading back to your station where you had been working on an upgrade for his respiratory system. Your work was on par with Angie's, making the head medic feel comfortable dividing her workload with you.

“Perhaps you should take a break for the rest of the day? I'm not going anywhere and the upgrade isn't critical yet. Why not join Reinhardt and myself for lunch?” Genji nudged, placing his hand between you and your work. You agreed hoping a break would make you feel better.

It did not. Instead you retired to your quiet room curling around Jesse's pillow and drifted into a dreamless sleep stomach tossing and turning . This was your day to day life for the next three weeks. But it was only getting worse. Nausea, bloating, headaches, and fatigue plagued you as sleep evaded you. You hid;  brushing off concern with the same line.

“ It's just stress .” You sigh dismissing Ana's hand on your shoulder but graciously accepting the hot mug of tea. Enjoying her company in the common room after getting fed up with sitting in the spare medical lab all day.“I don't know how Angie does this.” You sigh dramatically.

“I sometimes wonder about the both of you. If I didn't know better I'd say you and Ziegler are secret masochists.” Ana chuckled. You flush, skin darkening as Ana levels you with a knowing smirk. “Ahh~Thought that was more you and Jesse's shtick.”

“What's more my shtick?” A deep southern drawl purrs behind you. A deep purr you thought you still had another two months before you could hear it in person. You didn't get a chance to turn before two strong burly arms wrapped around you. He smelled of sweat and gun oil. The staleness of the airship hung over him telling you more than anything that he just arrived.

Ana rolled her eye at your sequel when he lifted you into his chest spinning you around to capture you in a soul stealing kiss. “I was under the impression I still had another six weeks of peace.” Ana joked, raising to pat his back as he lowered you to the floor. His attention not wavering from you.

“You know me Ma’am, can't be kept away from ya.” Jesse winked his smile damn near blinding. “But the mission went off without a hitch, got all the data we need to put a hurtin’ on the next Talon operation.”

“Good,” Ana nodded curtly, looking at her com. “Ah… Soldier wants us all at the debriefing in five. Best be heading over.”

You both watch her leave arms still wrapped around each other. Jesse breaks first brushing his lips down your throat pulling a giggle from you as his beard hairs tickle you. Your good mood doesn't last long though as your nose seems to really pick up on his scent. The pleasant sweat and gun metal smell from earlier now astringent and overpowering. You gag choking back the bile in your empty stomach.

“Damn,” Jesse pulls back watching you cup your hand over your nose and mouth. “I smell that bad doll?”

“No. Sorry I've just been under alot of stress of late. My body is protesting.” You cough forcing yourself back into his arms.

He coos sympathetically rubbing your back. “M’ sorry sunshine, let me make it up to you tonight huh? Hot bath- a few drinks. Hell I'll even sneak out an’ get us some food from town, your choice. Maybe a movie if I can keep my eyes open long enough. Just gotta get through this damn debrief,” He looks at his com cover your shoulder checking for messages. “which we are ‘bout to be late for so let's get gettin’.”

You arrived only a few seconds late. Reinhardt holding the door for you and Jesse beaming brightly at you both. You took your seat next to Angie and Ana while Jesse sat by Genji and Lucio. Nodding politely at the two women you settle in listening to the monotone drone of Winston's debriefing scrolling through the file in front of you. He took an hour before Soldier started.

“Is it hot in here?” You whisper leaning over to Ana when 76 had his back to them. Ana frowned, shaking her head noting a slight sheen of sweat gracing your dark skin.

“Not really. Do you need to step out? This many bodies in a room could heat it up.”

You shake your head thinking maybe you were just overreacting. Instead you pour yourself a glass of water sipping slowly, losing focus. Ugh, that pesky nausea was back making the room swim. You could feel it at the corners of your vision. Had you eaten today? It wasn't abnormal for you to miss a meal or two. You ate ridiculously late last night, a sudden craving as you watched Hana play video games. So skipping breakfast shouldn't have been that bad an issue. Besides Lena had needed assistance with a nasty sprained ankle.

“You are looking a little under the weather my friend!” You jump glass shaking in your hand. Reinhardt sounded so distant, like though water. How odd…

You try to speak but your tongue seems to be cemented to your mouth. The room's axis tilts dangerously as you try to steady yourself. The swimming wasn't just at the corner of your eyes anymore. A blonde blob took up your vision. The blob speaking softly trying to take you with it.

A bad choice. Your knees buckled the moment you rose, the swimming in your vision turning violent. The water in your ears turned to crashing waves disorienting you as your vision went black.

You woke in darkness a faint light to your side illuminating flat white tiles above you. Your vision was steady but blurry as you took in your surroundings. It was the medical wing. You could tell that much by the stiff mattress and scratchy sheets covering you. A pressure in your arm gives you pause. Shifting in the sheets you touch at it recognizing the tug and pull of an IV drip.

“Ah! You're awake!” Angie chipper voice emerging from thin air to your side. “Gave us a fright back there.”

“What happened?” You asked, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion trying to focus on her uncharacteristically tight smile. She hums bringing up your charts.

“Low blood sugar. Very low blood sugar. Bordering on coma inducing, you banged your head rather hard when you passed out; but it's fine. Everyone is fine.” She friendly tone turning professional and curt, her hands busy adjusting your IV and raising the lights in the room slightly. “Are you too hot? Too cold? What was the last thing you ate? You should have come and told me sooner.”

Angie helps you sit up adjusting the bed and pillows to your comfort. “Angela I'm fine. I have been just so caught up in work, you know I get stress sick sometimes. I'll be more careful.”

Your friend stopped midway into checking your vitals. “Are you- I had thought as much. It's unlike you to be so reckless.” She finishes jotting down a quick note before handing you your medical records.

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You scroll through blindly feeling ill for a whole new reason. How could you have been so stupid to have not picked up on all the subtle changes. You backtrack the past months counting the days. Your period, while erratic and hard to chart was never this late.

“How…” Your voice cracks lowering the tablet to your knees. Angie waits putting a supportive hand on your leg watching you process. “I'm a fucking doctor, and I miss that I'm pregnant!” Your laugh was empty, on the verge of hysterics. Shaking in a mix of awe and panic you place a hand  against your midriff. How could you miss this?

Fat is soft and malleable when you gain it. It grows in multiple areas at once, not collecting in one area growing steadily for so long. Dread fills you. You had been foolish thinking you were eating too much, so you cut back, taking up walking with Mei and hikes with Lucio. You had been starving yourself. Your child.

“Don't,” Angie cut into your downward spiral of guilt. “I'm not the most well versed in this but I did as thorough a check as I could and everything looks fine. You're underweight for the start of your second trimester but other than that you're fine,” She squeezes you leg reassuringly. “ they are fine .”

Falling back on the bed you bury your face in your hands groaning out. “Angie how did I fuck up this bad.”

She chuckled against her better judgement, but knowing you the worst had passed for now. “I can take some of the blame. I did dump a lot on you before I left. I knew I could trust you to stay focused on our work. I guess I underestimated how focus you would get. We are much in the same on that front. Stress does strange things to the body, as we both know. I, if I was in your shoes, would probably write it off as stress too.”

You gripe folding your arms defensively over your belly remembering Ana's comments from early. Jesse. “What do I tell Jesse? Did you say anything to him?” You snap rounding on your friend.

“I have kept everyone out including him till I could assess what was wrong, as per protocol. No matter what that man says otherwise.” Angie frowned looking towards the door. “You haven't been under for more then three hours. But I doubt he has left his vigil at the door. Do you want me to get him?”

You shake your head vigorously wrapping yourself over your stomach defensively. You had never discussed children. Anything really outside of dating. How would he react? What would this mean for you in the newly reformed Overwatch? “I need some time. I have to think this over.”

Angie rose nodding in agreement. “Let me know whatever you decide. I'll be there anyway I can.” She helps you lower the bed and turns off the lights again before leaving. You hear her exit and immediately start talking with someone on the other side of the door.

It was two days before you allowed visitors deciding to spend those days cramming as much knowledge and food into you all while talking things through with Angela. You had decided to tell Jesse and go from there, notifying Winston you could do nothing but wait to see what this meant for you for work and living on base. Angie was adamant she would pressure him to let you stay on as a medic on base until you were ready to take leave. As for housing well; maybe you could find a nice flat off base if it was an issue. You didn't think your shared room with Jesse was large enough for three. If there would be three.

As if beckoned by your thoughts Jesse was there knocking softly on your door not a few minutes after Angie sent out a notice that you would be allowing guests. He flashed you a crooked smile raising a plastic bag with a little smiley face on it. “I promised ya a hot bath and food...bath might be later but I thought maybe you would like some non-Angie approved food.” He fidgeted holding back his want to dash to you, his fears threatening to overflow. Watching you just drop at that meeting almost took him down with you. You looked ill when he greeted you but he didn't think it was that bad. Angie said it was low blood sugar from lack of food and sleep. But he knew better, there was something else on top.

He waited watching you shift the massive amount of blankets around you, burying yourself further in their warmth before smiling shyly. Boots thumping loudly on the floor he approached his grin freer this time pulling up a chair and your floating tray. “Oh. Did ya already eat doll? I can come back later if you want. Ang’ been saying your still feelin’ a little green ‘round the gills.” He frowned, noticing the scraps of foods on your discarded plate. It looked like the remains of something he would eat. Fattening and full of greasy meat, a few half eaten fries were left.

“I could always eat more. That's why I'm in here.” You laugh reaching for the bag while Jesse placed his hat and wrap on a nearby coat rack. You groan loudly pulling out a take out box of sweet and sour chicken, sticky rice and dumplings. Jesse watched shocked as you dove in stuffing a dumpling whole into your mouth only noticing his stares after you crudely stuffed another in your mouth “Wha?”

“Nothin’ sugar. Glad you're eating. Though I didn't think you would take my box. I got you a healthier one… you and Angie always watch what ya eat.” He smiles fishing out the other box. “But I guess we can switch every once and awhile.” He winks toying with you not expecting the look of horror on your face, a stock of broccoli halfway to your lips. “It ain't a big deal! ‘sides you are always on my case about eating better. Eat up! Can't have my sunshine starving. ” He jokes taking a bite out of the baked fish in front of him.

“Ya.” You chuckle nervously lowering your fork. Turning your face from his. You spoke so softly he barely heard it. Your words slipping out like a ghost.

Since I'm eating for two…

It caught him like a sucker punch, the world moving at half it’s normal pace. Surely you didn't mean… “I- I don't think I'm getting the joke doll.” Jesse muttered mind reeling for an explanation for your comment, other than the obvious one. Because that one didn't make sense. Right?

You turn back fist gripping your blankets, knuckling white and hands shaking. “Every symptom has a cause. I fainted and I thought I was suffering from just exhaustion and fatigue. Turns out they were just symptoms too.” Brushing aside the quilts you touch your stomach gently refusing to look at him.

“Are… how long?” Jesse asked voice no louder then your ghost like whispers.

“Angie said four months give or take a few weeks.”

Jesse leaned back quietly. “How long have you known?” Why didn't you trust him to tell this? Had he done something to make you think otherwise? You never brought up children but never talked negatively of it either. His heartbeat ecstatically thoughts flashing a mile a minute.

“When I woke up. I didn't realize until then,” You finally turn trying to fight back the tears of panic threatening to break free. “I swear. I would never have been so foolish if I had known. I would have told you.”

Jesse rose whipping a stray tear from your cheek and wrapping you in a tight hug, shoulders trembling from unshed tears himself. “I know, I trust ya. Jesus baby meeting you was the blessing I never deserved.” He kissed you then, peppering little kisses all over your cheeks, your nose and lips never settling for one place for long.

“You want this? Jesse I won't force this on you.”  You ask, starting to realize your fears may be unfounded.

“Whatca’ mean ‘if I want this’? I love ya, every bit I can get! I mean I would have done this a bit different. A cute little house with a cute little dog.” He paused licking his lips debating for a moment before continuing. “The nicest damn ring I can afford… But what's life without a few curves?” He smiles warmly a soft flush gracing his cheeks.

You couldn't help but laugh in shock. The words warming you completely making your heart flutter. It was a sweetness that made you feel good, feel safe when he pulls you in tighter murmuring hopes and promises into your ear. You smile snuggling in close, kissing his cheek and rubbing his broad shoulders wondering why you worried in the first place. This could work. You knew he would try and you wouldn't back down either. You loved him too much to not at least try.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Going Through Motions {10}

Title: Going Through Motions {10}

Steve Rogers X Reader OFC Korral “Korri” Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, Violence, Slow Burn

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: You and Steve had a hot, passionate, and wild romance seven years ago when you worked with the Avengers. It was the best year of your life; you’d never felt the things you’d felt in all your life. Then out of nowhere, Steve just ended things—in a letter. A heartbreaking letter, then the world deemed him a criminal, and he disappeared. Now, you’ve moved on and have gotten engaged to rich man Marc Spector. Tony brings you back to work with the newly rebuilt Avengers that is still led by Captain America who is definitely done asking for permission and not looking for forgiveness. Or is he?

Note: So, for this fic, we are going to alter the MCU timeline a bit. This takes place after Civil War, but Infinity War has not happened yet. Steve is off the grid for seven years before he comes back. {I know that’s a long time, but let me rock please} Also, I’m going to be introing/adding in Moon Knight (Marc Spector) in just because I feel like it and I want to start exploring other Marvel characters and of course I will twist him to serve my purposes.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread

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

-Steve- 

Eight hours. It had been eight hours since you were unconscious. Eight hours since you’d injected yourself with the Hydrolomed. Eight hours since you’d subsequently signed your death certificate. He was still in shock, still fuming, but even though he was shocked and angry, he didn’t expect any less from you. You always wanted to save people; it was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. You were selfless—now to a fault. He’d been working hard to stave away the emotion that wanted attention—terror. He was terrified of what this meant. 

Tony and Bruce jumped right into action to get you through every scan that still worked at the compound. When that wasn’t enough, the quinjet was fired up, and you were brought to Stark Towers where they’d been working for the last six hours trying to assess the situation and get their hands on every piece of research from Zemo and anyone who ever came in contact with this virus. While they worked, he never left your side. How could he? 

“Have you slept?” 

The sound of Buck’s voice made him look away from you for the first time in hours. Stretching his muscles, he sighed out.  

“Of course not, that was a stupid question.” Bucky sat on the other side of your bed in the empty chair and looked at you. 

“I thought you were going to lay low and rest,” he said. Bucky smiled, shrugged, then rubbed his stubbled jaw. 

“I’ve rested long enough. Plus, I got wind of something I thought you should know,” Bucky explained. 

His eyes went right back to you. After seven years, he knew he’d never get over you. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you now—again. 

“We’re gonna figure this out, Steve,” Bucky assured. He wasn’t so sure. From his encounters with Zemo back in his early Captain America days, he knew just what to expect, knew the types of sinister weapons he and his counterparts had the power to cook up. He knew the destruction that they always left behind. Pinching his nose bridge, he felt the pressure and tension from the added stress of worrying about you. He knew he couldn’t let anything happen to you. 

 “Damn it! I should have taken it from her and injected myself.” 

“You know she would have never let you take it. You two are just so disgustingly protective of each other. She took it because she knew you would have. She didn’t give you the opportunity.” 

“She’s so rash all the time. She doesn’t ever stop and think before she does something. God damn it!” He bolted up and paced the floor of the medical room.

 “Calm down.” 

“Calm down? Buck, it’s Korri! My Korri—my—world! How do I calm down?” 

He was possibly one of the strongest if not the strongest man in the world, and right now, he felt the like weakest. He felt defeated. Bucky crossed the room to him and rested his metal arm on his shoulder.  

“I know buddy. I know just what she means to you. I know how much you gave up for me, and if I could go back and change things, I would. I would have never let you leave her. I can’t imagine the world of hurt you’re in right now, but we gotta be strong for her. Remember what we used to say when we were kids?” 

He scoffed because he did remember. They were two boys running around Brooklyn, causing trouble and eating hard candies. “It ain’t over till it’s over,” he said. Bucky patted his back and nodded then pulled him in for a hug. 

“It sure ain’t over Steve.” 

He looked at the watch on his wrist that he’d started after you passed out. It was now nine hours. They were slowly running out of time. 

Another hour found him alone with you before he was called out over a development Tony and Bruce wanted him to see. Reluctantly he hurried down to the briefing room to hear what they had to say. Everyone was crowded in the room. 

“What’s so important?” 

“Is she awake?” 

“No, still out.” 

“Well, all the preliminary scans and screens are back,” Tony informed. 

“And?” 

Neither of the men spoke. They just looked between each other, neither wanting to speak. He was quickly getting annoyed with them. He was already at the end of his patience.  

“Someone speak!” 

Well, Zemo’s research looks to be correct--the pieces we have. Her blood shows no sign of being infected, she is not infected. Right now, the virus seems to be in an incubation period. Her body is assessing the new substance and is working its own defense. This defense will eventually break down and allow the virus to travel throughout her body. Slowly it will take hold of her organs and turn her into a—walking, talking death chamber. Anything or anyone she touches or breathes on will contract it, Bruce theorized.” 

“How long?” 

“It’s difficult to say, but we’re going to guess and say six days just like the research says,” Tony finished.  

“So, she’s going to die.” 

Again, everyone was quiet. 

“I’m not giving up Steve,” Nat stepped forward to put her hand on his shoulder.

 “None of us are giving up,” Tony confirmed. 

He looked around the room at the faces of everyone he’d spent the last several years with. They all looked saddened but also determined. When his eyes landed on Ava, even she looked remorseful. 

“What’d I miss?” The sound of your voice at the door brought everyone’s eyes.  

“You shouldn’t be up,” he began as he took steps to you. You held your hands out. 

“Stay back. None of you come any closer. You heard Zemo’s research. I don’t want to hurt any of you.” 

“Korri, it’s fine. You’re fine. We have a few days before we’re there,” Sam informed.  

“He’s right. Plus, I don’t give a shit anyway,” he said. After a few seconds, your eyes left him and moved to where he knew Ava was. 

“Who’re you?” 

They all looked to Ava, who gave a lackluster wave. “Name’s Ava.” 

“Where you from Ava?” 

“Not important.” 

Wanda and Nat stepped to her, no doubt ready to beat an answer out of her. 

“Like hell it isn’t. We just watched a man we were supposed to trust, betray us, and beat the shit out of us. We don’t know you from a hole in the wall. What’s to say you won’t do the same?” Wanda’s hands were glowing, ready to strike. Ava went on guard and began phasing in and out of solidity and glitching like a video game, making the lights flicker. 

“Everyone cool it. Relax. She’s cool,” he vouched. 

“How do you know, Steve?” 

He sighed and decided to go the cautious route. “Ava has helped me, Sam and Buck, out with a few rouge missions before.” 

“Not to mention, I swooped in here and saved your asses,” Ava shouted. 

Wanda stood down as Nat put her batons back into place. “Look, I know we’re all reeling from what just happened, but it’s not the time to attack each other.” He looked back to the doorway, but you were gone. He sighed again. 

“Cap is right. We have bigger problems. We need to find the rest of Zemo’s research ASAP and find a way to slow the virus in Korri. Needless to say, now that the virus is in human play, Johnson and Marc will come for her,” Tony announced. 

“Let them try, they’ll have to get through me,” he said before he walked out the door to find you.  

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

-Korral- 

As you walked along the ledge of the roof, you closed your eyes and used your senses. Everywhere there was noise. Manhattan was the noisiest place you’d ever been. There was constant honking, talking, shouting, the hum of electricity was everywhere, not to mention the sounds of water. The place was downright sensory overload, but you loved it. Often times being at the upstate compound felt disconcerting because of how quiet it was—well, it did without Steve. 

 You opened your eyes and looked down at the city you’d lived for the last seven years. You’d walked those streets hundreds of times, taken the yellow taxis, done so many things there considered New Yorker. You grew up here, and it showed in your attitude and resilience. Resilience you had to tap into now. 

You were nothing but an assignment, a means to an end—this end. 

Closing your eyes, you went over the events of the last few hours. Slowly you went over the chaos at the compound. Words mumbled and jumbled together as they echoed in your head. You were probably still feeling the after-effects of Marc’s powers. He’d actually used his powers on you. You began to wonder how many times he’d done it. Then you recollected the truth.  

“It was all a lie. I never meant anything. He played me.” 

You didn’t know how to feel or what to think. Your instincts were shit. You’d misread him this entire time. You were so lost in your thoughts and distress you didn’t realize anyone coming behind you. 

“Thinking of jumping?” 

When you looked back, there he was, Captain fucking America.  

“You’ve been fucking good ol’ Captain America—behind my back.”  

You almost laughed out loud. You must have been going crazy because none of this was funny. 

“I probably should. Eliminate myself from the equation before I really do irreparable damage.”  

You stuck your foot off of the ledge tempted to do it. If you killed yourself before the virus in you became lethal, then you could have foiled whatever Marc and Tilda were planning by making the virus unusable. It was a small price to pay for the safety of humankind. Right?  

Steve must have sensed your thought because before you knew it, you were in his arms as he moved you from the ledge. Anger rose in you, and you fought against him, making him put you down. When he did, you walked across the roof away from him. 

“God, Korri, why would you do something so stupid!?” 

You spun to him and looked at him with all the anger you felt. “Excuse me?!” 

“Injecting yourself with a virus that is meant to kill. A virus that has not been studied by anyone but a psychopath from Hydra. My god, this has to go down as the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” Steve ranted. Every word he spoke, you found yourself getting angrier and angrier. How dare he call you stupid and dumb? 

“Listen you blonde asshole don’t call me stupid!” 

“Really, name calling?” 

“When you act like an asshole, you get called an asshole. Don’t wanna be called an asshole, well don’t act like an asshole, Steve!” 

He looked angry as he turned his back to you. He paced back and forth, an action you mirrored. 

“Plus, if I’m so dumb and stupid, why were you thinking of doing the same thing. The only thing is I beat you to it.”  

Steve stopped and looked at you. You knew he would have done the same damn thing. If he’d gotten the canister instead, he would have done it in a heartbeat. He knew you knew it. Steve closed his eyes, pinched his nose bridge, and sighed out as he walked to the ledge to stare at the blue sky. 

When he began, his voice was soft, raw. “God, Korri, do you have any idea what you’ve done?” 

You didn’t bother answering, you knew it was rhetorical. Instead, you walked to the ledge as well and stood beside him, but not too close. 

“I took the virus off the table for them.” 

“And pulled my heart from my chest in the same breath.” Again, Steve sighed. You chanced a look at him and saw the worry on his face. 

“I did what had to be done, the same thing you would have done, the same thing Nat, Wanda, or Sam would have done. Whatever it takes. Right?” 

“You should have let me do it.” 

“The world needs Captain America; it doesn’t need me.” 

Steve was to you, pulling you to look at him in the blink of an eye. Your body pressed to his, and that was all it took for your heart to thud against your chest like you’d just run a marathon. Marc never had that effect.

“I need you Korri--me. Fuck what the world needs. What about what I need? I’m tired of giving them and everyone what they need, I want to take what I need. I need you.” 

The emotion in his voice broke your heart, and the tears in his eyes ruined you. 

 “You’re the one who told me sacrifice the needs of the few for the many.” 

“Fuck the many. Seven years Korri. Seven. I missed seven years and now--.” The words strangled in his throat, and he dropped his head. You’d only seen him discouraged once before when he spoke about Bucky and losing him.  

“Now you have six days to say goodbye.” Steve roughly pulled away from you and walked across the roof. 

Your words sunk in. He would have to say goodbye. You were going to die. You were going to die.  

“This whole time Marc was lying to me. He preyed on me, used me, and I didn’t see it at all. I was blind, but I don’t know how. It wasn’t by love or a sense of passion, or the sex. He was gorgeous but, it wasn’t beauty, I was blinded by my sheer stupidity.” 

“You’re not stupid Korri.” 

“You just called me dumb and stupid.” 

“With injecting yourself with an old lethal virus, yes, but with that, you’re not.” 

You stared down over the ledge and tried to piece together just how you’d been duped. Several minutes passed in silence. 

“Was what he said—true?” His words were hesitant, reluctant even. 

“What, that he’d had his fingers between my thighs?” You looked at him, but he couldn’t look at you. You thought it was funny, he had no problem looking at you before, or touching you, making love to you, tasting you. Now he was struggling. “Yes. It’s true.” 

You thought to explain the context of it but decided against it. If he wanted to believe you were some slut, then fine. Steve didn’t speak again, and neither did you. After almost five minutes, you turned from the skyline and walked back to the door leading inside. 

“Goodbye, Steve.” 

You touched the doorknob but stopped when you heard his voice. 

“Korri, I’m not going to let you die. I promise it, and I never break my promises to you. I’ve only made one before, and I still love you, forever until time and space collide.” 

You actually felt your heart shake, and you were thankful your back was turned because he would have seen the effect his words had. As you walked in, you tried to shake it and remind yourself. Six days.  

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