#but I’m gonna ask them if eye surgery would even be an option for me

[sodacowboy]

I have a very busy week ahead of me. Pray for me.

[transguydragon]

I say aaaaaall of this because, well, I’ve noticed something really weird and it doesn’t sit quite right with me, personally. It feels weird and is causing a lot of internal confusion, self-doubt, and fear about my transition.

So, I came out to my parents each individually when I last visited them. When I sat down and talked with my dad a bit about it, he was kinda concerned. Concerned about messing up my pronouns and calling me the wrong things, concerned about me.

He’s a very sweet guy, and had been doing an excellent job of being pretty neutral for me since I had originally come out as genderfluid a couple years previous. He calls me his kid, uses sweet nicknames frequently, and is generally pretty conscious about gender for a guy who doesn’t really hang out in spaces where you would expect one to pick up that kinda knowledge. He doesn’t hang out in bad spaces either tho, like you’d expect him to just be kind of oblivious I guess.

But part way through this conversation about me being a guy, he asked (though I can’t remember his exact words) “Can’t you just be [my gender-neutral nickname]?” (Been using that nickname since I was like 7)

And I… think he meant that as like “just be yourself”, but the phrasing then therefore somewhat implies that ‘myself’ and ‘a boy’ are mutually exclusive.

He also decided during this convo that he was just gonna call me by that nickname (which is my current chosen name) instead of addressing me with gendered language so he doesn’t mess it up which is… I get why he thought that would be good but it doesn’t actually help much.

It’s just easier for them to see me as “not really boy or girl, kinda just whatever” than to see me as a boy. It’s the lazy option, really. Splitting the diff. Ugh.

Okay, now let’s skip ahead a few months. I start looking around for transmasc representation wherever I can. I find a really cool photography account on instagram called @/transnormativity, and I scroll through, seeking out ideas for how I want to present, as I was struggling to picture what I wanted to become now that I knew. I just wanted to see a plethora of transmasc people to see what my fellows looked like and if that was something I wanted, and start to understand what parts of transition I did or didn’t want.

And I keep stumbling across pictures like this

And I keep going “yeah. That’s what I want. That’s… that’s what I want!”

It’s simple, it’s light, but it’s unmistakably masculine, at least to my eyes. It was a beautiful epiphany to me. A desire, for me, not for me and others, not because of The Doll. For me. The real me that I was only just getting to know.

But every time I see a picture like this, I click on the tagged person’s account and find their pronouns to be they/them.

Over and over again it feels, I find someone who looks like how I want to look and it turns out they’re non-binary or use neutral pronouns. And that’s fine for them obviously! They can do whatever makes them happy and identify however they wish!

But I’m starting to feel like I’m going fucking crazy.

I feel wholly like a dude at this point. I’d go talk to a doctor about getting top surgery literally tomorrow if I weren’t worried about maybe regretting it cause I think it might draw attention to my hips, which I hate even more than my chest. I like being called handsome, I love my short hair, I like it when I put in the effort to lower my voice and it actually sounds natural, and I am a man.

And one day, I wanna look like those pictures.

So why is it that everyone I’ve seen who presents like this isn’t quite a man in the same/a similar way I am? Is it just because I’m a baby gay? Do all transmascs, given enough time, either become Kratos Godofwar (he/him) or Whyte Tanktop Person (they/them)??

Is that just my fate? What am I wrong about here??? Myself?? My feelings?? My future?? My goals?? My identity?? My pronouns?? My desires??

I feel like I’m being shoved and nudged ever so gently, ever so slowly into the slot of non-binary by my parents and by common trends within the community.

But I’m not!!! I’m a fucking boy!!!

I don’t wanna ride the line anymore! I’m retiring the carabiners! I’m letting those nice heeled boots go to fucking waste! I’m doing my voice work every night! I’m gonna work out again!

(With all due respect) No more being compared to butch lesbians! No more being compared to non-binary and agender people! No more being compared to GNC women! You are all my siblings, I love you very much, but I am not one of you. I do not belong in any of these groups.

I don’t care if I have to become the blandest motherfucker ever in order to unambiguously pass as what I am! I’ll just wear a fucking pin about it so I can still connect with other queer people, I guess. Idk.

I am a boy. A guy. A dude. Sometimes I even feel like I am a man.

And I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t wanna be neutral about it. I don’t wanna be a they/them transmasc, or even a he/they transmasc. No, I’m a man.

And maybe it’s just cause I’m a still a fuckin’ baby when it comes to being trans, but I don’t think I wanna reconnect with femininity, and I don’t think I ever will.

I always hated makeup, I hate the feeling of stuff on my face and my fidgeting from ADHD causes me to touch my face a lot so I was always worried I’d absentmindedly smudged it and just didn’t remember cause I zoned out. The only time I really liked my nails painted was when I got acrylics done like short claws for a Halloween costume and then kept doing them like that for a while until Covid started and I stress fidgeted and tore them right off.

Certain skirts and dresses make me feel very uncomfortable and vulnerable. Some of them are ok but very few. My occasional enjoyment of dresses was almost entirely based on the fact that they were objectively flattering for my figure and I could see/understand that (The Doll In The Mirror, as I call it) but I never actually liked them for the internal me.

I like jewelry I guess, but I keep it pretty minimalist or neutral. I’m pretty content to keep wearing the same stuff I’ve been wearing every day for years now. The only new thing I desire jewelry-wise is sword/dagger earrings.

I like sewing as a practical and useful skill. I don’t want to make pretty things. I’d only ever touch lace if it was something I was doing for my roommate. I want to fix holes, clean up seams, and replace buttons.

I liked horses growing up, went to some summer camps, but I was never once a horse girl. That’s something else. I liked horseback riding for the outdoors, for the connection with such a unique animal, for the unmatched feeling of competency and strength derived from being a 5’0” kid hauling a full saddle+blanket+pad set that‘s probably about 1/3 your weight all the way from the barn to your horse and successfully slinging it onto its back, which is several inches above your shoulder, all by yourself. The feeling of ruggedness from learning how to pick a horse’s hooves in the hot summer sun.

And sure I was there with a bunch of other girls, and all the leaders who looked after the stables were women, but I felt different from most of them. With some of the leaders I got a sense that we were more similar, I would later realize that they were giving dyke vibes, and more explicitly, on my last time at that camp learned that our slightly more broody counsellor and the head of the stable staff were lesbians and dating. Even before I knew that, I had wanted to connect with them both more but didn’t know how to approach them. But I was drawn to them. Thinking back on it, I even wonder if maybe our counsellor might’ve ended up being trans? They hated their last name because it sounded really girly/cutesy, and it seemed to me like a lot was going on in their head…

I got off track. What are some other feminine things I either don’t like or have big stipulations on my feeling about them?…

[whyareyouhere66]

Duncan x Male Reader // Part 2

Duncan x Male Reader

Total Drama Island

Hanahaki Disease AU

Part 2 of 2

Hurt/Comfort

TW: mentions of blood, throwing up, cursing, hanahaki

Previously...

I hesitantly nodded, before taking a deep breathe.

"...Duncan."

****

DJ and Bridget's eyes widened, and I grew nervous. 'Will they accept me...?'

But to my surprise, Bridget pulled me into a tight hug, DJ joining soon after. "I'm glad you told us...." She said, voice slightly muffled by my shirt. "W-wait, so you're not mad?"

"Why would we be? We support you no matter what, y/n." DJ said, and a large smile spread on my face. "I love you guys..." I smiled, hugging them back tightly. they smiled back, returning the hug aswell. "Love you too.."

****

It's been about a week since that point. DJ and Bridget were the only ones aware of my Hanahaki, and it was quite a relief to have all the support they've given me. However the disease itself has only been getting worse.

Duncan and Courtney keep flirting with each-other more and more, and the petals have become bigger and seemingly multiplied. It's becoming easier to see aswell. My eye bags are more visible, as I've been sleeping much less. It's been harder to eat, which combined with lack of sleep and constantly throwing up blood was hurting me, both physically and mentally.

My mental state has gotten excessively worse. I've tried to stay positive, but it's almost useless. I knew this disease may as well be the death of me. There are only 2 known cures to Hanahaki disease:

1. The other person returning your feelings, which by the looks of it isn't gonna happen anytime soon, or

2. Getting the flowers growing in my lungs surgically removed,  also removing any sort of human emotions.

Now I know neither of these are possible. First of all Duncan is straight and obviously likes Courtney. And then for the surgery, even if I was willing to go through with it I don't have the money. The only way to get money is to win it in the challenge- but if I get even close to the finale seeing Duncan and Courney together would've killed me already.

So I'm going with the 3rd unlisted option, "ignore it and await until my inevitable death."

As much as I wish Duncan would return the feelings, he seems really happy with Courtney and I don't want to ruin that. I mean, as long as he's happy it'll be worth it, right? As much as I don't want to die yet, I also don't want to be a burden.

We were now currently sitting in the cabins. We only just finished dinner, and all went back to settle down for the night. DJ, Geoff and Duncan were all chatting to themselves as Harold snored loudly. I sat on my bunk, reading a graphic novel I brought from home.

It was a very interesting book. The main characters were two teenage boys, who lived in a world where technology became super advanced. They fell in love, we're too afraid to come out so they never said anything. One day one of the boys's father discovered a UFO on one of their cameras, and the boys became curious and went to look for it.

It was quite entertaining, and I was very focused on the book in front of me. That's probably why I jumped slightly when I heard a familiar voice, as well as the mattress dipping slightly from another persons weight. I looked up and saw the familiar bright blue eyes I foolishly had learned to love.

"Hey." Said Duncan. "Um, hey." I replied simply. He leaned back on the post of my bunk, getting comfortable. He pulled his hands behind his head, showing off his bare arms. I blushed slightly, looking away to close my book (just to clarify Duncan sleeps shirtless that's why-) "do you need anything?" I asked, turning back to him. He looked at me for a moment, remaining silent

Butterflies jumped around in my stomach as I blushed slightly under his gaze, and I only hoped he couldn't see it. "Have you been avoiding me?" I was slightly taken aback from the question, and I began fidgeting with my fingers slightly. "H-huh?"

"Oh don't give me that shit Y/n, ever since that stupid paintball challenge you've been avoiding me." He said angrily. In all honesty, I had been avoiding him. I knew it would only make the disease worse, so I thought staying away would make it easier. It didn't, and the guilt built up in my chest as I swallowed nervously. "No, I haven't. Just been busy with challenges, just like you."

He narrowed his eyes, hands leaving the back off his head and instead he crossed his arms in front of him. "Really, cause you've barely talked to me."

"I could say the same to you."

"Don't turn this on me"

"I'm not turning it on anyone,"

He scoffed and looked away, visibly frustrated. I sighed again, turning my head to think of an excuse, before turning back to him. "Fine, you wanna talk? Then let's talk." I said, and he finally looked back at me and raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" I shrugged. "You're the one who wanted to talk. So what do you wanna talk about?"

He looked at me for a moment, and scoffed again. "Better then nothing I guess..."

The conversation started out slow, but overtime it became more and more natural, and the tension decreased. We chatted for a while, until the unfortunate topic I had been hoping to avoid came up.

"Aw man and then Courtney! She's-" he paused, seemingly searching for the words. His voice wasn't angry, so I knew we weren't gonna be laughing about the ridiculousness of the challenges anymore. Instead he seemed to grin. "She's really something man."

'Oh she's something alright...'

My expression darkened, and I looked down. Even if he didn't say it directly, I could tell by his voice. It was obvious. It was the same way when he was being teased relentlessly by the others, he enjoyed talking about her. The back of my throat tingled, and I knew what was coming.

He was grinning to himself, staring off into space. But I was much more down to earth. All the feelings from earlier came crashing back down on me, and I had to bite my lip and hold my breathe to keep the cough in. The cough that I know would've brought blood with it.

I cleared my throat, hoping it wouldn't be as hoarse as it normally was in these situations. Duncan finally snapped back to reality and looked at me expectantly. "I've gotta go to the bathroom real quick..." I said, my emotions seeping through slightly,

His face fell, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Huh?" I got up anxiously, heading for the door. "I just need to step outside for a minute" I said, before rushing out of the cabin. DJ watched me leave with a sympathetic look on his face, as he too knew what was coming.

I rushed out into the cold air of the night, hoping to get atleast to the edge of the woods before the flowers could appear. Unfortunately for me, they came sooner then I could prepare for.

I only got as far as the side of the cabin, almost behind it, before I doubled over and began to couch harshly.

A mess of red and purple fell with the coughs, and my throat felt as though it was on fire. But this time, instead of just petals, full flowers came out. It was much harder to breathe, and this was much worse then any of the other times. I coughed violently as the flowers continued to spill, clutching my throat in pain as the other hand held me up. 'Fuck...'

"Oh of course. You avoid me for a week, and when I finally get you to talk to me you run away. What's your problem- ...."

Duncan's voice startled me, and I looked up from my couching fit and saw the green headed boy looking at me wide eyed. His words had been cut off, presumably when he saw me. "Y-y/n,.?"

I just stared at him, a tear rolling down my cheek. He advanced towards me cautiously. "W-what the fuck happened..." his normally rough voice was a lot softer now, and filled with worry. I did nothing but watch him, not trusting my voice. He knelt down next to me and loomed at the pile of red and purple flowers.

The tension in the air hung thick, and neither of us spoke a word. A tear rolled down Duncan's face as he attempted to put together his scattered thoughts.

"How did this happen...." He mumbled. I stayed silent for another moment, more tears falling from my eyes before I finally spoke. "I-I'm sorry..." I stuttered, squeezing my eyes shut attempting to stop more tears. My words wore raspy and dry as I spoke. He looked at me confused. "Why are you sorry!? Y-you're gonna die man I-" he cut himself off as he too began to cry.

He then grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. "Who did this to you...?"

I looked at him with tear filled eyes, almost sympathetically. When I Didn't answer he asked Bain more sternly, "who did this to you?!" He said, moving his hand to my shoulder. "....y-you..."

His eyes widened, and I felt his hand slowly slip off my arm. "W-what.." he muttered, not being able to comprehend it. I felt something snap inside of me, and I began to ramble to him as everything I had been hiding began to spill out of me. "I'm sorry I didn't mean for you to find out like this! I-I don't understand it either I just- when I saw you you were just so attractive and when we became friends it just sorta happened. A-and then with Courtney and stuff I thought you-"

Duncan stopped my rambling, grabbing my face and slamming his lips against mine. My eyes widened for a moment, before I gratefully returned the gesture. I felt like a weight was being lifted off my chest, or in my chest for that matter. I could feel the flowers slowly shrinking inside my lungs, much to my relief.

After about a minute, we both pulled away breathlessly.  "...I love you too dumbass..." he muttered, resting his forehead against mine.

I smiled despite the salty tears that stained my cheeks, and put my hands over his. "I love you too...."

[helplessly-nonstop]

Laughing Gas Confession (L. Hemmings imagine)

I’ve been working on this fix for quite some time but since Luke decided to realize a new album, I finally managed to gain motivation to finish this fic! Anyway reader gets their wisdom teeth pulled and this is the results! Tagging my girlie @wrestlingfae

WC: 2352

-

Wisdom teeth. The bane of any person’s existence if they ever had the displeasure of them coming in. Truly the only thing a person could ever gain from them coming in might be the humerus videos you capture while on laughing gas. My experience however? A little less humorous and a lot more exposing.

“Come on, you’re being a baby about this, just go to the dentist and let them pull the wisdom teeth, you’ll feel much better!” Luke insisted as he shut the door behind us. I groaned as he continued to pester me about setting up a dentist appointment to remove the nightmares pressing against my jaw.

“Luke, I have no one to bring me home! They’re going to use laughing gas and I can’t drive while high.” I retorted, beginning to put away the groceries, only to press my fingers against the hinge of my jaw as the ache began to grow more painful. He stared at me with a disbelieving look then he exclaimed, “I’m off tour, I can take you! I mean, we’re best friends, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Take each other to the dentist, make sure you don’t ruin the Uber driver’s car flooring with vomit.”

“Okay, that was one time! That’s what you get for giving me Chipotle while I’m hammered. I mean, technically, me puking on that guy’s floor was your fault for letting me drink with Cal. You know he always encourages me to do bad things.” I insisted, handing him the milk to put away. He sighed, clearly realizing that I had won that point, and returned to our current argument, “Just let me take you. I swear, I won’t record you. I’ll just make sure you get there and back, safe and sound. Okay?”

We stared at one another for a while before I sighed, muttering, “Alright, fine, just make sure that I get there and back without breaking a bone.” His blue eyes sparkled at my agreement before he kissed me on my forehead then launched into making dinner as I dug through the freezer in search of an ice pack to press against my jaw. At least I’d finally get rid of these stupid wisdom teeth.

My appointment was set for tomorrow and dread was beginning to set in. Laughing gas loosened your lips and things that should remain a secret had the chance of slipping out. I was sitting on my bed, considering other options to pull my wisdom teeth without using laughing gas but ultimately came up empty. Unfortunately it seemed that this was the only way. Of course, I could have asked any of the other guys to take me to the dentist, but I feared that would hurt Luke. I just hoped that I could keep my secret locked away from even the grasps of the laughing gas..

“Today’s the day,” Luke crowed, bursting into my room, “C’mon, it’s time to take out those nasty wisdom teeth of yours!” I groaned and ducked my head beneath my pillow once again as I grumbled, “Why? Why did it have to be me to be cursed with a morning person as a best friend?” He flopped on my bed then lifted my pillow away from my face as he replied, “Balances out your night owl habits. Now come on, I bet you’re dying to get those bastards pulled.”

“It’s like you’re excited to see me suffer through recovery. Sadistic fuck. Alright, go, I’m getting dressed.” I muttered, shoving him off my bed. He groaned as he hit the floor then gave a small wave as he shut my bedroom door behind him, leaving me alone for the time being. I quickly changed and stared at the clock as I began to process what could happen.

Today was the day that I would risk the chance of exposing my love for my best friend of many years. What would I even do if I let it slip? Would he hate me? Would he reject me? Would he feel the same? So many thoughts raced through my head that I didn’t even notice that Luke had reentered, holding a hairbrush out to me. He cleared his throat and I glanced up with a sheepish smile then accepted the brush as he asked, “You need your shoes?” I looked around my room briefly and pointed to the stray pair of sneakers hiding beside my dresser before finishing brushing my hair.

He handed me my shoes and ran a hand through my hair as he assured me, “There’s nothing to worry about. They’re gonna take good care of you.” I smiled up at him and quickly pulled on my shoes before heading out the front door, sighing at the Los Angeles heat. We settled into the car and I stared out the window with a small sigh, prepared to finally get my teeth pulled.

“Hey you’re gonna be okay, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been to this dentist before, they’re really good.” Luke assured me, patting my hand. I smiled briefly then stared out the window, knowing damn good and well whether the dentist was good or not was at the bottom of my worry list for today.

We arrived at the dentist in fifteen minutes and I savored the knowledge that we wouldn’t be together while I’m high on laughing gas for too long. He guided me inside and I spoke to the nurse running the front desk while Luke investigated the assortment of pamphlets that were splayed across their wall. Settling back beside him, I gripped the arms of the chair, terror beginning to set in. What would happen as soon as I exited the exam room? Would I expose the truth? Could I prevent a secret from spilling out?

Long fingers slid over the top of my hand and I jerked out of my panic as Luke gave a tight squeeze. He smiled and assured me,”Hey it’s okay! I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?” Just a few words and my heart began to settle. The nurse entered the waiting area then glanced up from his clipboard, calling my name. My best friend waved a hand towards the exam area then chirped, “A new life awaits you. One without pain.”

The words echoed in my head as I settled in the chair and the dentist coached me through how to breathe in the laughing gas before a haze settled over my thoughts. The operation was a quick procedure and the pressure of them removing the four monsters that evolution cursed us with was nothing compared to the relief I felt.

The nurse was kind enough to help Luke with guiding me to the car and I pressed my cheek against the cool glass of the window, poking my cheek to feel the gauze stuffed in my mouth. He swatted my hand away and chided, “Don’t do that, you’ll make it hurt worse later.” I pouted at his warning then mumbled,”You’re no fun, Luke. Why you gotta be a buzzkill?” He chuckled at my whining and ruffled my hair as he replied, “I’m not being a buzzkill, I’m saving you from yourself.”

We managed to go through the drive through without another incident of me being a disaster, which I’m sure he was thankful for. He tugged me out of the car and urged, “Come on, let’s get you inside, silly.”

“You know, I love you so fucking much, Lukey. Like holy shit.” I mumbled, leaning into his chest. He laughed as he guided me into the living room then replied, “I love you too. We should really get you laid down before you pass out on me. Doctor said by the time you got home, you’ll be about ready to sleep.” I smiled softly at him as I landed on the couch and insisted, “No, not- not like a best friend loves their best friend. I love you like a boyfriend and girlfriend love each other.”

His eyes widened at the statement then I began to lay down on the couch as I mumbled, “Prolly shouldn’t have said that but ya know how it is. Easy goes the truth you want most exposed. The subconscious is a strange place, Luke.” He gave a shallow nod and turned out of the living room then returned with a blanket, draping it over me as my eyes began to close. Long fingers brushed my cheek briefly then I heard him murmur something to me, but the pain medicine was beginning to settle in.

When I finally came to, I was still curled up on the couch, with a blanket curled around my shoulders and a pillow clutched to my cheek. Glancing around, I realized that Luke had disappeared from the living room, leaving me to nap by myself. I groaned, pressing a tender hand to my jaw, then mumbled, “Ah fuck, right. Wisdom teeth are gone.” I pushed off the couch and stumbled into the bathroom so I could pull the bloody gauze from my mouth. I moved my bottom jaw briefly, only to regret the decision as pain struck. I groaned and clenched my eyes closed, hoping that the agony would settle down.

“Hey, you’re up. You want something to eat? I made soup.” Luke asked, leaning against the bathroom doorway. I turned at the sound of his voice and questioned, “How long was I out?” He hummed at the question, glancing down at his phone screen as it chimed, then replied, “About four hours. Not a bad nap. Come on, let’s get some food for you.”

As the week progressed, I noticed Luke had become distant. He moved away when I leaned against him, particularly when he was texting which was never an issue in our friendship. We often flocked to one another when we were chatting with friends and even potential love interests so it was strange for him to shy away.

When I entered a room, he would leave just seconds later, as if he couldn’t stand the thought of standing in the same area as me. What had happened when my wisdom teeth were pulled? Had my behavior while dealing with the pain really drove my best friend away? Or worse, did I tell him my biggest secret while I was under the influence of laughing gas and pain medicine? And if so, how long would our friendship last?

I allowed his strange behavior to continue unquestioned for another week, hoping that it was a mere coincidence that he was acting so strange so soon after my wisdom teeth surgery. But I finally caved on demanding what his problem was when I tried to hug him, only for him to sidestep me.

“Was there- did I do something wrong? Because if I did, I’d really like to know what’s causing you to act like this towards me.” I asked, stepping forward to try and meet his eyes. He turned on his heel and ran a hand through his hair before he grumbled, “So that’s why you didn’t want me to take you to the dentist. Because you were afraid of telling me the truth while you were under?” I raised an eyebrow at him and began to ask what he meant, only to pause when his words sank in.

“Oh my god, I didn’t. Please tell me that I did not say what I think you’re saying that I said.” I rushed out, not caring if it had made any sense. He flickered his gaze up to me then he snapped, “How long? How long have you been hiding the fact that you’re in love with me?”

“I’m kind of hoping that’s an optional question to answer.” I admitted, twisting my fingers together. He whipped to face me and shouted, “Goddammit, this isn’t a fucking joke to me, so quit deflecting and tell me what I want to know!” I flinched back at his anger then demanded, “Why are you so pissed that I didn’t tell you that I’m in love with you? I have a right to hide things, Luke! It’s not like you feel- never mind, just let me take my medicine.”

He stepped in front of me and held a hand up as he said simply, “Finish what you were going to say. You know me so well, tell me what you were going to say.” I glanced up at him then murmured, “It’s not like you feel the same anyway.”

“But how would you know that? You’re dismissing me before you even give me the chance to tell you how I even feel! You think I’d take just someone to the dentist? I mean- fuck! I wish you’d just let me tell you how I actually feel instead of acting like I wouldn’t give you a second of my time. I’m in love with you, dammit!” he shouted, chest heaving. My jaw dropped as we stared at one another, silence settling over our living room, then he drew in a deep breath, hissing,”I wasn’t going to confess like this. You just riled me up so fast, dammit.”

“You're in love with me?” I croaked out, surprise taking over my anger. He drew in a deep breath, as if he was preparing to give a giant speech, then he whispered, “I’ve been in love with you since high school. I just thought that you only wanted to be friends.” I cupped his face and he leaned into me, pressing his forehead against mine then I mumbled, “I thought I never stood a chance. That’s why I never made a move. I was terrified of what would happen if you didn’t feel the same.”

“Two halves of a whole idiot on the same thing, I guess.” he replied, giving a small smile. I giggled and asked, “Would my other half give me a kiss then?” He gave me a gentle kiss then assured me, “The second that you’re all healed up, I’m going to kiss you so fucking hard.”

“You better keep that promise, pretty boy.”

[nastybuckybarnes]

In a Heartbeat  -  Seven

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Fluff, Fluff, FLUFF

Word Count: 4.1K

A/n: Here she is! Part seven! I’m gonna write a little epilogue but the fic can very well end here! I love this series with my whole heart and soul omg

Series Masterlist

~*~

He’s numb.

So damn numb.

Nothing even matters. His ears are ringing, the bright lights bouncing off the linoleum floors are fucking with his eyes but he doesn’t care because you’ve been in the operating room for hours and all he wants is to see you, to make sure you’re okay.

No one’s said a single thing to him about whether or not you’re okay, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to break down that door and see for himself.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the loud sounds of the waiting room.

He furrows his brows at Steve, confused out of his mind until he sees Tommy in his other arm, head resting against his father's shoulder and a casted arm hanging limply at his side.

“Hey Tommy, how you feeling?” The brunet asks, his voice rough and hoarse with lack of use.

The six-year-old only whimpers softly in response, burrowing further into his father’s neck.

“He’s okay. Doctor’s got him on some painkillers. Said it was a clean break from pounding on that window.” Bucky stands up, rubbing his nephew on the back. “You’re a hero, buddy. Just like your daddy.” Tommy sniffles and nods, the sight breaking the man’s heart.

“You should head home for the night, Buck. Shower, rest, then come back in the morning.” He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t, Steve. What if... what if she comes out and I’m not here? Or what if...” He trails off, not even wanting to entertain the idea of the other option.

“I saw Nat on her way down here. Ask her for an update and then go home. You’ve had a long day. And when she’s out of surgery she's gonna be upset to see that you’ve exhausted yourself out here in the waiting room.” Steve has a point. Both men are still in their fire gear, having rushed to the hospital directly from the fire.

It’s after midnight now.

“I’m taking Tommy home. Take care of yourself tonight, Buck. If not for you, then for her.” He nods, eyes on the floor as the blond leaves, his son curled up against his side.

“Barnes? You’re still here?” He looks up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, desperation evident on his face as she walks over to him.

“I’ve got no update other than she’s unstable and that they’re doing everything they can. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and even then, she’s going straight to the ICU and won’t be awake for at least a day or so.” He lets out a terribly shaky breath but nods, rubbing his eyes then pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y-you’ll call if there are any updates, right? I’m just gonna pop home and shower and sleep for a few hours but I'll be back first thing in the morning.” She nods, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.

“I’m off for the rest of the night, so I’ll be sticking around bugging the nurses for updates whenever I can. Might even bribe an intern with good coffee, not this hospital shit.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step towards the exit then hesitates, looking back at the redhead for a. moment. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” He asks, his voice soft and broken and nearly lost among the sea of people.

Natasha swallows hard and avoids his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“The doctors are doing everything they can.” A rehearsed answer. An answer she gives to relatives to let them know that they shouldn’t expect much.

He says nothing, only gives her a firm nod, then turns and leaves the hospital.

Hot droplets of water rain down on him, washing away the stench of smoke and the physical reminder of the events of the day. But no heat and no water pressure will wash away the sorrow in his soul. The absolute unadulterated fear that grips his bones and seeps into his bloodstream. That is something that won’t be washed away by any amount of water and suds.

His movements are mechanical, scrub, rinse, dry, dress.

The sleep that finds him is restless and fitful, filled with nightmares that will haunt him for nights to come. Every thought, both waking and otherwise, are occupied by you. Your face, your smile, your laugh, and the thought that he may never experience any of them again.

He's back at the hospital at six-thirty, coffee in his metal hand because his flesh one is shaking too much.

Just as he’s walking to the reception desk, he sees Natasha walking towards the waiting room. Her face is unreadable when she sees him, but he notices her take a deep breath.

“What is it?” He asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s still unstable, hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s been out for about three hours. She probably won’t wake up until this evening.” He takes a few deep breaths then nods, a bubble of relief hugging him tenderly.

“Where is she?” Nat sighs and turns on her heel, leading him towards your room.

“James, I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. She’s not doing well. There’s still a fair chance that she won’t wake up.” She stops, looking up at him with vulnerability in her eyes, tears brimming.

“What is it?” He’s nervous, his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“They’re saying she needs a transplant. That her heart won’t last for much longer and if she wants any hope of surviving more than a couple years, she’ll need a new heart.”

The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, almost as if someone punched him in the gut. He stumbles back a step, coffee dropped and hands coming to the tops of his thighs as he hunches over, trying to catch his breath.

“That’s a best-case scenario. Worst case is she... well... we should’ve said our goodbyes. But she’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to pull through.” That last part is whispered so softly that the brunet almost misses it.

“Nat,” his voice breaks, it cracks and splinters and shatters in pieces on the linoleum that he doesn’t have the energy to pick up. He can’t pick himself back up. Not if you might not wake up. He just can’t.

“Sit down, c’mon.” She helps him lean back against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated, arms draped over his knees and his head hanging heavily between them.

He can’t breathe.

A sick voice in his head screams that this is what you must’ve been feeling, this terrible tightness in your chest, this inability to draw in a single damn breath. It’s unbearable and for just a moment he realizes he wouldn’t blame you if you gave up, if you just let it take you. But he shakes that thought from his head and instead focuses on you fighting. You need to fight. If you can pull through, then they can find you a new heart and you’ll be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

You have to be okay.

~*~

Everything feels still. Dry. Bland.

If you could pin it to a colour, that colour would be beige.

Everything feels beige.

You’ve been awake for a little while now, gathering your bearings and trying to remember what happened. The last thing you remember is the fire bell... Wanda telling you not to go... and then running back into the building to find Tommy.

Tommy.

Your heart picks up in speed, pain flaring through your chest at the action, and an alarm starts beeping rapidly.

It takes only seconds for the door to open, nurses and doctors flooding into the room and checking the various machines around you while you grab at the front of your hospital gown uselessly, trying to alleviate the pain.

“(Y/n), I need you to take a big breath with me, okay?” A doctor says, her brown eyes focused on yours. You nod, inhaling with her for a moment then exhaling. You do this a few times and the machine gradually stops, your heart slowing as whatever they injected into your bloodstream takes effect.

Nurses slowly trickle out, leaving just you and the doctor.

“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance,” she says with a smile, looking over your chart.

“What can I say, Doc? I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Your voice is weak, far weaker than it should be, and that alone scares you.

She chuckles softly, smiling at your words before tucking the chart under her arm and looking at you straight on.

“You being alive right now is an absolute miracle,” she says softly, taking a step towards the bed then motioning to the chair beside it, asking wordlessly if she can take a seat.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths as you prepare to hear whatever news she has for you.

“Your heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital, and the second time we almost couldn’t get it going again. Your heart is weak, and what you endured nearly ruptured your left atrium and you had severe lacerations of your ventricles. It is most comparable to a very severe heart attack, and you’re lucky to have survived.”

She doesn’t look like she’s delivering good news. No, she should be happy if you’re lucky to have survived. That fact alone puts you on edge.

“What is it? What... what’s wrong with my heart now?” You know it can’t be good judging only by the look on her face. It’s a look you’ve seen far too many times.

“With the rate you’re going, your heart will give out completely in three or four years. And it won’t be a pleasant process. You’ll be in pain, bedridden and hospitalized because you won’t be able to move. The only alternative is a transplant.” The world around you shifts from beige to grey, the clouds dark and the room sorrowful.

Your ears start ringing, loud and painfully and it takes everything in you not to rip them right off.

“S-so that’s it then? I’m gonna die in three years if I’m lucky? I’ve only got three years left?” She sighs and looks down at her hands, “the only other option would be to put you on a waiting list for a new heart, but we cannot guarantee that you’ll get it in time, but it’s worth a shot.” You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and splattering on the ugly blue hospital blanket.

“I don’t want a new heart! I don’t want to go through a process and get my hopes up over something that I won’t get in time.” You sniffle and shove your face in your hands, the steady beeping of the machine next to you making you want to cry even harder.

“I’ll give you some time, (Y/n).” The doctor gets up and leaves, a sad look on her face as she turns to the pair waiting anxiously outside your door.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes wide with curiosity and desperation.

“I recommend you give her space. She’s... processing everything,” Doctor Palmer says softly, giving Natasha a sad smile before walking away to handle her other patients.

Nat exchanges looks with Bucky then slowly walks to the door.

“Just give me a minute to see how she’s doing, okay? I’ll tell her you’re out here waiting, I just wanna see if she needs anything.” He takes a deep breath but nods, understanding that Natasha would be able to tell, if only from a medical standpoint, what you need.

You keep your face in your hands, tears wetting your palms, as the door opens again.

“Beans?” Nat’s voice makes you stiffen, sniffling and wiping your eyes before peeking up at her.

Her heart shatters in her chest at the sight of you.

Skin dull, eyes heavy and sunken. She’s seen a lot of sick people before but never would she have put you in the same category as them. Now though? Now, you look the part.

“I uh... I heard the news. Bugged the nurses for updates and they finally caved.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and then a sob bubbles out of your chest.

Nat’s face falls and she slides onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sob.

“Oh beans,” she whispers, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I don’t want a new heart!” You cry, tears soaking her shirt. She hugs you, holds you tightly while you cry out your frustrations, your sorrows.

It’s agony.

She has so many questions, so much she wants to say, but she knows better.

She holds her tongue, wanting you to be in a better headspace before she talks to you about your options. It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

Bucky sits impatiently outside of the room the whole time, leg bouncing and flesh fingers trembling.

Natasha comes out of your room a short while later, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” The redhead nods, taking a few deep breaths.

“I’ve seen a lot of sick people, Barnes. A lot of them. But seeing her... seeing my friend so weak and tiny...” She shakes her head, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m scared, Buck.” Bucky pulls her into a hug, his own breaths shaking.

“It's okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She sniffles again then speaks, “she’s asleep again. She should be good to see you the next time she wakes up though. I’m sure she misses you.” He squeezes his eyes shut but nods, trying to mentally prepare himself to see you in such a fragile state.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even want to feel.

Helpless.

That’s the word that sums it up the best.

Seeing you on that hospital bed, tubes attached to your face, arms, and chest, he feels absolutely helpless.

“Hey,” he murmurs, smiling gently when you look up from your book.

“Bucky... Hi.” Your voice is raspy and hoarse, and he has to take a few shaky breaths to stop from crying.

“You mind if I sit?” You shake your head, motioning to the chair beside your bed.

He takes a seat and looks at you closely, his eyes welling up with tears.

“How ya feelin, pretty girl?” You huff a breath out through your nose then shrug, trying your hardest to stay strong in front of him.

“I uh... I’ve been better, I gotta say.” He chuckles weakly then nods, sniffling and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“Nat uh... Nat told me what the doctors said. About your heart and stuff. That’s... intense.” It’s not the best word but it’s the only one he can find.

You blow a breath out through your mouth and nod.

“It’s scary,” you whisper, not looking up from your hands even when he takes them in his.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be put on a waiting list only to not get one in time. And there are people who need a new heart more than I do. People who want one more than I do.” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean, you don’t want a new heart? Why wouldn’t you want one?”

You sigh heavily, “because, James. This is my heart. It’s the heart that I’ve lived with for my whole life. I don’t want a new one because this one is mine. This is the one that’s dealt with heartbreaks and betrayals. This is the one that’s gotten me through the bad days and the good. And this is the one that chose you. I don’t want a different one. I wanna keep this one. And don’t you dare tell me that my days are numbered if I keep this one because my days are numbered regardless.”

You finally look up at him, fire in your eyes as you express everything that’s been going on in your mind.

“We’re all gonna die someday, and it may not be the way we expect or the way we want, and we won’t ever be fully ready for it. But it’s gonna happen. I’d much rather know that I spent my life doing what I wanted on my terms. If my days are numbered, I'd rather enjoy them than spend them waiting for a heart I may never get. My heart’s still got a few years left in it. Careful years, yeah, but years no less.”

Tears stain his cheeks and he nods, sniffling twice then pressing a kiss to your hands.

“I’m not going to try and change your mind, Doll. The choice is completely yours and no matter what you decide to do, I’ll stay by your side through all of it, I promise. You’re my girl, my best girl, my only girl, and I want you to do what’s best for you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, having mentally prepared yourself for him to put up a fight, not for him to be so supportive of your decision.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’m gonna cherish every fucking moment that you let me spend with you because I love you. I thought,” he pauses, pulling a hand back to scrub the tears off of his cheeks only for more to fall.

“I thought I’d lose you before getting a chance to truly tell you. But I’m not gonna waste any more time because life is a precious gift. I love you, (Y/n). So much. To the fucking ends of the Earth. I love you and I don't want a day to go by where you don’t know just how much I love you.”

You whimper, his confession making warmth spread through your body and tears rain down your cheeks.

“I-I love you too, James. With every ounce of my heart, I love you. And I don't want to let you down and I never want to hurt you.” He closes his eyes, content to bask in the weight of your words for a moment longer, a private, intimate moment.

He eventually settles his head on the bed next to your hip, and your fingers find their way into his luscious brown locks, twirling the thick strands around mindlessly.

“When are you getting discharged?” He asks, his voice muffled by the bed.

“I’m not sure yet. Doctor Palmer said she wants to keep me here for at least another week or so to monitor my heart and take me off the medication, and then maybe some more time after that depending on how weak I am.” He nods, nuzzling against you some more.

“I’m not going back to work ‘till you’re out,” he says matter-of-factly.

You only giggle, shaking your head.

“James, that’s not even plausible. You’ve got bills to pay. Besides, you’ll get tired of being here. I’m gonna spend most of my time sleeping or bugging the nurses for some real food.” He lifts his head, eyes full of vulnerability.

“I just don't wanna leave you and then...” He trails off but you understand his concern.

“I’m gonna be okay. Doctor Palmer says I’m doing okay. I’m sure Nat will continue bugging her for updates and she’ll let you know if there’s anything concerning happening. But I’m gonna be fine, I swear.” He watches you for a moment longer before nodding and pressing his head against your thigh.

A thought bubbles into your mind and you tug gently on his hair to get his attention.

“What happened to Tommy?” You ask, voice tight and filled with apprehension.

Bucky only smiles gently.

“Lil guy’s a hero. He busted that window open, that’s how we found you two. Broke his arm but he’s okay. Says he looks like me so he likes it.” A smile finds its way onto your face at the idea of Tommy looking up to his uncle so much.

“He’s already gotten everyone at the firehouse to sign it, and I’m sure when he’s back to school he’ll get everyone there to sign it too. But the lil guy’s a hero. Gonna make a good firefighter.” You nod, mind flashing back to those last few moments in the school.

“I was so scared, James. I-I couldn’t protect him and I didn’t know what to do.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek gently, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths and nod, trying to calm down before your heart rate picks up too much.

“You need to worry about yourself, and not everyone else. Focus on getting better, okay? And then, when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you out on a date and show you just how much you can enjoy life, okay?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Okay.”

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” Tommy runs at you full speed, nearly knocking you over when he barrels into your legs.

Bucky’s quick to steady you, opening his mouth to reprimand his nephew but you stop him, raising a hand to cut him off.

“Hey, Tommy! How’s my little superhero feeling?” He pulls back and smiles up at you.

“I got another cast so now my arm looks just like uncle Bucky’s!” You glance at the new blue cast and smile brightly.

“Look at that! And you’re a hero just like him too, huh?” He nods excitedly then digs around in his pocket for a moment.

“Here!” He hands you a sharpie then points to a blank space on his cast.

“I made sure to leave room for you to sign it!” Your face softens and you crouch down in front of him, signing your name and drawing a small picture.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder as his dad calls his name.

“C’mon Tommy! You gonna help us move or are you gonna help miss (Y/l/n) get organized?” He looks between you and his dad then runs over to the moving truck, excitedly grabbing whatever his little arms can carry then bringing them into the house.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ready?” You look up at your new house, then over at him, nodding without hesitation.

“Absolutely.”

The moving process is long and tedious, and after seven hours of lifting, unboxing, cleaning, and organizing, you’re about ready to call it a day.

“Pizza’s on its way, and Nat ran out to grab some beers,” Bucky says, coming up into the master bedroom. Concern immediately colours his features as he sees the way you’re sitting. You’re on the bed, hunched over with one hand on your mouth and the other on your lower abdomen.

“(Y/n)?” He asks, coming to a crouch in front of you and trying to get a look at your face.

You take a few deep breaths then nod, opening your eyes and offering him a weak smile.

“You okay?” You nod again but he seems unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I uh.. not really. I wanted to tell you in a better way but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” His heart is in his throat, absolutely terrified of what you’re going to tell him.

You’ve been going to the doctor a lot more frequently, and your energy levels have plummeted.

He knew you didn’t have time left but it hasn’t even been six months since the fire.

You pull his hand to your stomach and rest it there gently, eyes finding his as you wait for it to click.

He stares at his hand in confusion, that confusion melting away as he realizes what you’re telling him.

“Wait, are you...?”  His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and heart pounding.

You only nod, tears welling up in your eyes as he launches up and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m gonna be a dad!” You giggle wetly, tears of joy falling and getting soaked up by his shirt.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He pulls back, hands on your small baby bump.

“How far along are you?” He asks, cradling the bump delicately between his hands.

“About three months. And the doctor said that they’ve already got a birth plan ready, and different pills for me to take to calm my heart.” His glossy eyes look up at you, so full of love and adoration.

“I can’t believe it. I...” he stops, leaning in the gently kiss your lips then pulls you into another tight embrace.

“Thank you, (Y/n). Thank you.”

[bangtanloverboys]

the first cringe of morning // myg

summary - there were many things one would be nervous about when their new partner spends the night for the first time: was the room clean? is everything in order? did you shave? but you weren’t really nervous about those things, you were nervous as to how he would preceive your scars

pairing - boyfriend!yoongi x trans male!reader

genre - fluff, slight nsfw; newly established relationship au

word count - 1.7k

warnings - mentions of top surgery, reader is slightly insecure of his scars, anxiety, bisexual yoongi, bed sharing, cuddling, non-sexual body worship, kissing, very light non-sexual dom/sub undertones, kinda soft dom!min yoongi, min yoongi being an absolute sweetheart

author’s note - hhhhhh dream scenario honestly. . .happy pride month

Taking a deep breath, you pulled your shirt up, exposing your chest. You stared at your torso in the mirror, your eyes zeroing in on the two thin scars that decorated your chest. You’d gotten top surgery barely a year ago, the scars nearly faded away. You were happy with the results, you’ve never felt happier or more comfortable in your entire life even. You would never go back on the decision you made to get top surgery.

However, it didn’t stop you from being nervous. Why were you nervous? Your new boyfriend, Yoongi, was going to spend the night for the first time ever. You’ve been dating for a few months now and you honestly couldn’t have been happier. You told him you were a trans man a few weeks after you felt like you were possibly getting more serious; he nodded, thanking you for trusting him with the information. While you knew he would do nothing of the sort, your brain couldn’t help but think of terrible outcomes if/when he was to see your chest. 

What if he thought you looked deformed? What if he pointed out your nipples and how they looked weird? What if after what if after what if, plagued your mind. It was stupid and you knew that, but your anxiety continued to eat away at you.

The night so far had been pretty good; he arrived with a couple grocery bags of goodies, as you did ask him to pick up some things on his way over. The two of you had a nice dinner, watched a couple movies, and you were both getting ready to settle down for bed. It was established earlier that you weren’t planning on having sex at all that night, neither of you feeling quite ready for that yet. But you slept shirtless, meaning you had the options of either A. getting it over with and showing him or B. sleep with a shirt on and possibly overboil. Anxiety on the rise, you went with the latter option. 

A knock on the bathroom door startled you, causing you to drop your shirt. 

“I gotta brush my teeth. You decent?” Yoongi asked from the otherside of the door. 

With a light chuckle, you unlocked the door, pulling it open for him. “Come in.”

Walking in, his toothbrush in hand, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you. Can I use your toothpaste?”

“Yeah, it’s in the little basket by the sink.” You gestured to the counter behind you. “I’m gonna get the bed ready.”

“Hey,” he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going any further. “You sure you don’t want me sleeping on the couch? Because I’m more than fine with that.”

“No, it’s okay.” You responded, hoping your voice sounded reassuring. Yoongi stared at you for a moment, possibly sensing your nervousness. He didn’t say anything, only nodding; trusting your words. After releasing your wrist, you made your way to your bedroom.

You had cleaned up everything earlier that day, looking nothing like the mess it was the past couple days. But you were satisfied with it, as long as there was no mess on the floor or dirty dishes anywhere, it was fine. With a sigh, you began taking off the decorative pillows you had on display on your full sized bed, neatly stacking them in a pile. As you continued to get the bed ready, your mind wandered, thinking about how you were going to sleep. Did Yoogni have any sleeping habits? Would he cuddle you while you slept? Would he mind the heat you tend to give off when you sleep? So many different random anxieties started to build up over the ones already there. 

“Are we not going to sleep with any pillows or something?” Yoongi’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Immediately you realized you went a bit too far and even pulled off the actual pillows from the bed, stacking them alongside the decorative ones.

“Shit- I’m sorry, I got a bit carried away.” You gushed as you put the pillows back on the bed. 

“No worries.” You got a good look at him as he walked across the room, towards the bed. He was wearing a loose fitted T-shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips, and his hair was a mess from being tucked away in a beanie all day. “Do you sleep on any specific side of the bed or free range?”

“I sleep on the right side.” You said, pointing to the side you were closest to. 

“Alright,” he nodded as he made his way over to the left side of the bed. Pulling back the covers, he climbed into bed. You moved to follow him, but he stopped you. “You’re gonna sleep in your jeans?” 

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. “Right uh. Hang on.” You muttered as you turned around. As you shuck your jeans off, you can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, causing the heat in your cheeks to spread to the tips of your ears. Standing in only your boxers and a T-shirt, you deemed yourself ready for bed. When you turned around to face him, you spotted a smirk playing on his lips. Avoiding eye contact, you clambered into bed, shutting off your lamp in the process, leaving you both in the dark room. 

The mattress beneath you shifted as Yoongi adjusted himself to lay down and get comfortable. “C’mere.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. You freeze in his hold for a moment, thinking he’s going to possibly make a move, but instead you feel him nuzzle his face into your hair. You smiled as you felt his breathing tickle the skin of your neck. Relaxing into his touch, you allowed yourself to fall asleep in his arms. 

When you woke up to the sunlight bleeding through your blinds, you were genuinely surprised to have slept through the whole night. Usually you’d wake up randomly, but Yoongi was a good luck sleeping charm that now you had, you probably won’t ever let go. You shut your eyes again, wanting a bit more sleep before either of you have to get up.

Just as your mind was about to fall back into sleep, you felt the light touch of Yoongi’s lips drag across the skin of your neck. He peppered soft kisses over the exposed skin, gently tickling you. You giggled at the sensation, but didn’t pull away. In fact, you snuggled closer into him. As he sleepily kissed you, you felt the hand that was still wrapped tightly around your waist ever so slowly slip underneath your shirt. The skin to skin contact had you stiffen. Feeling your discomfort, Yoongi moved to whisper in your ear. 

“Are you okay with this?”

“I-” You struggled to get the words out. “My scars. I- I don’t-”

“Hey shh,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear before he readjusted himself on the bed, now hovering over you. “You can tell me, what about your scars?”

“I-I’ve. . . never really had a partner see my scars in a more. . . intimate setting. . .” You all but shrunk under his gaze, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“No, Y/N, look at me.” His hand went to your cheek, gently forcing you to look up at him. Meeting his dark eyes, you feel nothing but adoration pouring out from them, overwhelming you. “I care about all of you, scars and all. You are the most handsome creature I’ve had the privilege of knowing.” You felt tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill. Your hand went up to cup his cheek, bringing him down to meet your lips. The kiss was nothing too special, it was slow and gentle, yet it didn’t stop your heart from racing. Yoongi’s other hand was sneaking back underneath your shirt as he pulled away. “Is it okay if I show you?”

With a gulp, you nodded.

“Use your words, baby.” 

“Yes.” You rasped out.

Once given the green light, he pressed a kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your neck. He kissed down your clothed torso until he was over your hips, his hands slowly curling up the bottom of your shirt. His eyes never left yours as he exposed more and more skin, stopping just below your scars. Lowing his head to your stomach, he kissed you right below your belly button. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pecked all over your stomach; on occasion he’d catch you by surprise by blowing a raspberry, eliciting a laugh from you. 

He reached the edge of your shirt again, placing his hands on the fabric before moving it anymore. “Do you wanna take this off?”

“Yeah.”

It was a bit of a struggle but with Yoongi’s help, you got the T-shirt off. His eyes not once leaving you as he tossed the shirt to some corner of the room. The silence was thick as you watched him stare at you, saying nothing. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks as you moved to cover yourself, but his hands grabbed at your wrists, pinning them to your side.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Y/N.” He praised as he lowered himself to be over your ribcage. “Please don’t doubt that, I see nothing but the most beautiful man in front of me.” Yoongi muttered as he littered kisses along your scars, the sensation light from what little feeling you have left. His words left butterflies erupting in your stomach and your head reeling, trying to accept the compliments he gave you. You don’t think anyone has ever said that to you, hell, you don’t even think you’ve said that about yourself. But to have Yoongi tell you had you drunk. 

He’d nip at your skin, testing where you could feel, and when he felt you shutter against him, your boyfriend made sure to pay extra attention there. All while mumbling praises into your skin, assuring you that he thought nothing less of the world of you.

By the time his head came back up above yours, his lips were kiss swollen and you were breathless. Smiling down at you, he leaned down, kissing you one last time before pulling away. He laid his head down on your chest, snaking his arms around you to hold you tight. Your arms went to wrap around his shoulders, messing with his hair at the nape of his neck. There the two of you laid for the next few hours, as the sun rose higher in the sky, simply enjoying each other’s company.

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

The Sanguine Web - Part 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this, it is the first part of my 100 follower special, the other parts are coming shortly. I’ve been really wanting to a Hanahaki fic for awhile so here it is. I also want to do some different soulmate au’s so those will be coming soon! Love you guys so much xx

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and blood

Summary: You try to figure out how to tell your friends your sick

Prompts

Masterlist

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(y/n)’s pov

“I know this diagnosis is scary, but we’ve got a quite few options now,” Dr. Shaw smiled, though it felt a little backhanded, “Not, the only way we can guarantee your safe recovery is removal of the infection, but the good news there are plenty of doctors in the city who know how to perform the surgery so it wouldn’t take us very long at all to get you in. Alternatively, having your feelings requited will lead to the infection dying off on its own, or, you can try to resolve your own feelings. If you’d rather pursue one of those then a good first step is talking to them, as scary as that may be.”

“Okay,” I have to let everything soak in for just a minute, “Is the surgery risky?” “The actual surgery is very safe, though it will lead to the removal of your feelings for that person. The only real risk is the chance that it prevents you from falling in love in the future.”

“What are the chances that happens?”

“It’s about fifty fifty, and unfortunately there isn’t really a way for us to tell if that will be you, it’s just a risk we have to take,” she clasps her arms in front of her, “I’m not asking you to decide today, you’ve caught this very early so we’ve got a bit of time to figure things out. Until then I can recommend a therapist who specializes in Hanahaki’s, and there’s some antibiotics I can prescribe you that will help slow the infection.”

“Okay, thank you,” I swallow the lump forming in my throat, “I think maybe I’ll try and talk to him and work it out that way.”

She nodded, “Okay, most patients opt to try that first. We can still get you into surgery later if that doesn’t work out.”

“How late can I opt in?”

“Up until the infection starts spreading, once it’s outside of your lungs the surgery won’t do anything. However, if your feelings were to change at that point or your feelings are requited, there is still a chance you’d be able to pull through,” she began scribbling things onto a notepad, “That’s still far off right now, but this disease it unpredictable, so we’ll need you to come in every week for blood work and xrays. We’ll monitor everything very closely so we’ll know if we start getting close to the point of no return so to speak.”

“Alright, I guess straight to the pharmacy then?”

She nodded, “Good girl, and you call us if you need anything. If things feel like they’re accelerating or you start coughing up a lot straight to the hospital okay?”

I nod, “Okay, thank you.”

“Of course, I’ll see you next week.”

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I took the subway to the pharmacy stuck in an odd state of numbness. Part of me wanted to cry, or scream, but I just didn’t do anything. I’m in shock until the woman behind the pharmacy counter begins speaking to me.

“Alright sweetheart what can I do for you?” “Just getting this filled,” I hand her my prescription with a forced smile.

She takes the paper, squinting at it before frowning, “Oh my…” she types a few things and sighs, “I’ll be right back,” I drum my fingers nervously on the counter while I wait for her to return, finally she does carrying a little white bag, “I know this isn’t totally appropriate but I know they only prescribe this for one thing and…” she trails off for a second, starting to blush, “Well my girlfriend had Hanahaki’s too, and she was really scared, but she ended up telling me how she felt and it was great, she recovered just like that,” she offers me a sympathetic smile, “I know this is hard but you should talk to them, I’m sure whoever they are, they’ll at least want to help.”

It’s sweet of her to say, so I thank her and shove the bag in my purse on my way out. I’m sure Peter would want to help, but he’s with someone else, and they love each other. I don’t get to confess and clear things up and live happily ever after. I have to move on, it’s the only option for me. I’m not getting that surgery and risking never falling in love again. That’s not fair. Just because I fell for the wrong person this time I have to never love again? Or die? 

I’m tearing up when I get home, and unfortunately everyone is already over. 

Betty beams at me from the couch, “Hey, how’d it go?”

“Good,” my voice shakes a little, “They think it’s just, um, allergies. I’ve got some pills that should start clearing it up.”

She nods, though all of them look a little concerned, “You’re gonna be okay then right?”

I lie through my teeth, “Nothing life threatening.”

“Okay…” she seems to buy it, but I’m sure she’ll end up drilling me on it later, “You wanna join us then?” “Sure, just, uh, give me a second,” I retreat to my bedroom, dumping my purse and jacket before clutching myself tight. I just want to cry, but I have to wait, everyone’s going to know something is wrong if I try to hide out.

I return to the living room after consoluling myself for a minute, taking a seat besides Betty on the couch, “We ordered pizza,” MJ smiles, “I got that veggie one I was telling you about.”

“Hope it’s good,” I bite my cheek, I feel guilty even talking to her.

“It’s amazing, you’re gonna love it,” she insists. 

Betty’s eyes bore into me suspiciously, “Are they really sure it’s just allergies?��

I nod, “Of course Betty, I promise I don’t need a lung transplant or something.”

“Are you sure?” she presses, “There was blood.”

“Blood?” MJ raises a brow.

Betty nods, “Yeah, she was coughing up blood last night, that’s why she even went to the doctor. It seemed worse than allergies.”

“My throat was just dry,” I try to explain, “I promise I’m fine, it’s just something in the air right now.”

“Okay,” she lets up, “But if you do need a lung transplant I’ve got you.”

“And maybe if you give (y/n) one of your lungs you two will get some sort of psychic connection,” Ned interjected, “I bet they’d make a tv show about you guys.”

Everyone starts laughing, and for the first time that day I let myself glance up at Peter. He’s so pretty, and so is his laugh, but before I can appreciate either of those things I start coughing. It’s an almost instant reminder that I can’t do that. Something tickles in my throat so I quickly stand up.

“Are you okay?” Peter frowns at me. I nod quickly, “Just need some water,” I cover my mouth with my hand as I struggle to pour myself some water. 

I bend over the sink to make sure none of them can see the petal I cough up. I know it must be a begonia. Last finals week was really stressful for me, and in the middle of the week Peter had dragged me away from the cave I was studying in to relax for a while. He took me to this cute little market and bought me some flowers while we were out, begonias.

I shove the petal down the garbage disposal and wash away the blood, I’ll have to figure out what to do when I start coughing up more, full flowers too. 

“Are you sure you're good?” Betty questions when I stand back up, I swear she has xray vision or something. 

“Yeah, better now,” I take a big swig of my water, “I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

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“Make yourself comfortable,” Dr. Morrison picks a notebook up off her desk. She seems very nice, I just hope she’ll be able to help me work through some of my feelings, “I’m really glad you came here, therapy can be scary, especially in your situation, so coming here is already a step in the right direction.”

“Thanks, I’m still a little nervous, but anything to help.”

She gives one kurt nod and glances down at her notepad, “Absolutely. I’d like to know what your intention is here so I can know how to help you best. Do you intend to get surgery?” I shake my head, “No, I’m not gonna get the surgery. I want to just try and move on.”

“Alright, is this person aware of your feelings?”

I shake my head, “No, he’s with someone else so that isn’t really an option for me.”

She nods, “Okay, can I ask his name?”

“Peter.”

“Peter,” she repeats, scribbling a few things down, “Are you two close?”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.”

“Is he aware that you're sick?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Why’s that?”

“I know they’d ask who and I don’t know what to tell them yet, and it’s still new. I mean I want to tell them eventually, but I think I still need some time.”

“Of course, you need to process everything first, that’s perfectly reasonable. I do encourage you to tell them though, having a good support system is going to help you feel a lot better, and you can always let them know you just don’t feel comfortable telling them who it is.”

“I will.”

She smiled, “So, what do you like about Peter?”

I blush, “Everything I guess, he’s smart and he’s funny and I always feel really good when I’m with him. I don’t know, we just kind of click.”

“You two spend a lot of time together?”

I nod, “Yeah, we hang out all the time, I probably see him more than my actual roommate.”

“How would you feel about spending less time together?”

“He’s my best friend, why would I do that?”

“Separation is going to help you move on, I’m not saying stop being friends or avoid him, but giving yourself space from him is going to be good for you.”

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I feel like therapy went well, I feel more hopeful when we finish, although I’m definitely tired. She told me the goal is to get me really comfortable with my feelings so I can move on. I decided to set myself a goal afterwards, I want to tell Betty before my next session, a week from today. I can’t hide it from her for too long anyway, we live together after all, and she’s already convinced there’s something more than just allergies going on. I debate even telling her when I get home, but Peter and Ned are in the living room, and I’m still not sure I’m ready.

“Hey,” Peter smiles to me as I walk in, “How was work?” “Fine. I didn’t realize you guys were coming over.”

“Oh yeah, we’re going to the movies. You should come, MJ is gonna meet us there.”

Dr. Morrison said separation is good, and I don’t really want to be their fifth wheel anyway.

“I think I’ll stay home,” I clutch my purse nervously, “Thanks for offering though.”

His lips pulled to a slight frown, “You sure? MJ picked some weird art film, it’d be more fun if you came.”

“Yeah, work was actually pretty tiring and I still have a bit of homework…”

“Okay,” his cheeks just barely dust pink, “Next time then?”

I nod, “Of course, you guys have fun,” I scurried to my room as quick as I could.

I don’t know what exactly made me start crying, I mean I’ve cried every night this week so maybe it’s just the overwhelming feelings again, but I think it was Peter. I don’t want to have to pull away from my best friend, I just wish I loved him the way I was supposed to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it just makes me feel gross. 

I end up hiding out until they leave, then I return to the kitchen for some hot cocoa and comfort food. I calm down a bit, but I’m still a little teary eyed when I pass out on the couch. I don’t know how long I get to sleep for, but what ends up waking me up is the front door opening. I peer through groggy sleepy eyes, expecting to find Betty, ready to scold me for not going to bed.

What I didn’t expect was Peter. 

He bent down beside me and set a hand on my cheek, “Wake up sleepy head, I know this couch isn’t that comfortable.”

“Hey,” I yawn before rolling onto my back, I push my arms up in an attempt to push the sleepiness out of my body, “Where is everyone?”

“Betty is back at mine and Ned’s, I came by just to talk to you, but it can wait,” he smiles and offers me a hand, “Come on bunny, I’ll take you to bed.”

I shake my head, “I’m up, what did you want to talk about?”

He blushes, “Let me help you to bed first.”

“I’m a big girl Peter, I can put myself to bed. What’s on your mind?”

He sits besides me with a sigh, “It wanted to make sure you’re okay, you’ve just seemed a little off this week.”

“It’s just allergies P, I’ll feel better in no time.”

“I don’t think so,” he frowns, “I don’t think allergies forget how to talk to your best friend.” 

“I didn't, I just don’t feel very good.”

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me if you’re upset with me or something…”

I laugh, “Peter why would I be upset with you?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just seemed off every time I’ve seen you this week.”

“Well it’s not you Peter, I just don’t feel very good. If I were upset with you I would just tell you.”

“Okay,” he accepts my answer though he doesn’t seem totally satisfied by it. Who am I kidding? It’s Peter, he always knows when something’s up. “You know I’m always here for you right?”

I nod, “I’m here for you too Peter.”

He wraps an arm around my neck and kisses the top of my head, “We could hang out for a little while, play some games or something.”

“I’m still pretty tired, I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” I blush as I stand, “Maybe some other time.”

His smile falls but he nods, “Okay, but it has to be soon. I miss hanging out.”

“Soon,” I agree, “I miss it too.”

He stands and pulls me into a hug, placing another kiss on the top of my head, “I’m sorry about whatever’s going on, you know I love you tons.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower not to burst into tears, to not break down and just tell him the truth. I can’t though, I know I can’t. It’s not his fault he doesn’t love me the way that would fix everything, he loves someone else and I want that for him, even if it makes me jealous, even if it kills me. I just want Peter to be happy. 

“I love you too.”

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This morning Betty nearly caught me tossing a petal out the window, making it very clear that I’ll have to tell her soon. I’d much rather tell her than have her just find out, I just don’t know how. I think I should just sit her down and tell her, but I just want to sugar coat it somehow, make it seem better than it is. I’m trying to figure out some way to do that when I get called up to the pharmacy counter. I barely even realize I know the girl behind the counter this time. Adeline, MJ’s roommate.

“Oh hey,” she smiles to me, “Are you okay with me filling your prescription? I can totally grab someone else.”

I know she’ll know if I let her fill the prescription, it’s a little scary, but there’s enough separation between us that it feels okay, like a warm up.

“I don’t mind,” I smile back, “Just don’t tell everyone about the pills I’m popping.”

She laughs, “I’ll keep it to myself,” she turns to her computer, typing away before squinting at the screen, then it seems to hit her, “(y/n)...” she turns to me with a frown, “Do you?...”

I nod, “Yeah, but like I said, don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course,” she pursed her lips, “I’ll be right back.”

It was worse than I thought, Adeline and I aren’t super close, we get along, but we never hang out outside of group get togethers or parties. I didn’t expect her to look so upset or concerned, I thought she’d just tell me she was sorry, that she hoped I got better. It makes me scared of how everyone else is going to react.

“Here you go,” she frowned as she passed the little white bag to me, “You haven’t told anyone?”

I shake my head, “Not yet.”

“Really? Not even Betty, o-or Peter?”

“No one, I’m going to, just kind of figuring out how.”

She nods, “Yeah, I can’t imagine. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m gonna get better, it’s just a little scary for now.”

“Of course,” she smiles, but it’s one of those sad smiles I have a hard time looking at, “I, um, if there’s anything I can do just let me know. I could help you tell everyone,” she blushed suddenly, “When you’re ready of course. Just, uh, maybe it’d be easier to get it out of the way all at once you know?”

“Thank you.” It’s not a bad idea actually, maybe it would be easier than telling everyone individually. Then I just have to explain it once and answer all the questions once. I don’t have to answer all the questions over and over. It might balance out the reactions too. “That might be nicer actually, and you could probably help explain the medical stuff a bit more.”

She nodded, “Yeah, definitely, I mean do it however you need to, but if I can help in any way just let me know.”

“Thanks Adeline, I’ll think about it,” I give her an awkward little wave as I walk away.

I start making a pros and cons list in mind, weighing both of my options to try and figure out the best way to go about this, of course my thoughts are then interrupted by a phone call. Peter.

He’s been trying to get together, and this time I really have been avoiding him, following the advice of my therapist. I don’t know if it’s helping, I think about him just as much, the thoughts are just sadder now, but it’s what I have to do. My therapist knows how to get me better, and I have to get better or I’ll never get to see him, or anyone. It would be so much easier if I could just tell him that, I hate lying to him. 

“Hello?”

“Hey bunny,” he sounds chipper as ever, “How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

“Well I’m okay right now, but I would be a thousand times better if you came over and helped me study?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” I glance around me, trying to think of something, “I have to go grocery shopping.”

“How about I come help you then?”

“I thought you needed to study?”

“I do but,” he pauses for a minute, “I know you said you aren’t avoiding me, but you know it went from not talking as much to suddenly we haven’t even seen each other in days.”

“Well why do we need to hang out all the time anyway? Just go hang out with MJ.” 

I don’t mean to sound as angry as I do, I’m just so frustrated. It’s not easy keeping this all to myself.

He stays quiet and then sighs. “You’ve been acting weird since you went to the doctor, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m worried about you.”

“Nothing’s going on Peter,” I frown and wrap an arm around myself, “I’m just busy today alright?”

“You’re busy everyday.”

“I’m not, I’m just busy right now…” I sigh and hang up, I just don’t really know what to say to him.

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After my awkward phone call with Peter I decided it would be best for me to tell everyone at once. I just need to get it out of the way, rip the bandaid off. So I texted Adeline, and she proposed that she and MJ would have everyone at their place to hang out today. She said it was gonna just be dinner and some party games, and everyone agreed to go. I told Betty and Ned I’d meet them there so I’d have a bit of alone time to get ready. I wanted just a bit alone just to prepare what I’m going to say and everything, I want this to go well. I want to walk into therapy tomorrow and tell her all about how I told my friends and I have this amazing support system.

A coughing fit interrupts my attempt to hype myself up in the mirror, it’s much more violent than they have been. The petals tickle a bit, and there’s usually a bit of blood, but it’s never like this. As a bit of blood splatters in the sink I hear what I assume is Betty coming back to retrieve some forgotten item. I kick the bathroom door closed and hope she just ignores me. Instead the door almost instantly starts creaking open.

“I’m fine!” I lean over the sink, trying to cover it with my hair, “Just give me a second!” I choke on my words.

The hand that’s set on my back is distinctly not Betty’s, “Jesus Christ are yo-” Peter stops mid sentence, just as the full flower falls out of my mouth, followed by a streak of blood. The full ones are much harder to cough up than the petals.

“I’m fine,” I quickly try to think of someway to explain this, “That was just in my hai-”

He seizes my wrist as I attempt to turn on the sink and wash away the evidence, “Did you cough up that flower?”

I flush, “Did you break into my house?”

“Betty gave me her keys so I could pick you up and figure out why you’ve been avoiding me! Now tell me what the hell is going on!” he demanded in the most concerned, Peter-like way he possibly could. 

I take a deep breath, glancing at the mess in the sink before I finally answer, “I have Hanahaki’s disease.”

His eyes dart between me and the sink, seeming to debate his next words carefully, “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks.”

“Were you even going to tell me?”

I nodded, “I was going to tell everyone tonight.”

He dropped my wrist and pushed a hand through his hair, I couldn’t even look him in the eyes, “W-Well it’s not that bad right? I mean there’s surgery, a-and I’m sure if you just talk to him he probably feels the same way.”

“He’s with someone else Peter, he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t also love you.” When I finally did meet his eyes they were glossy, and his cheeks were red.

“He doesn’t Peter, I just have to move on.”

“I’m sure he does, just tell me who and we ca-”

“I’m not telling you who he is. This isn’t his fault and I don’t want anyone to blame him or make him feel bad about it.”

“It is his fault!” he snapped before sighing, “Okay fine, you don’t want to talk to him, but there’s still surgery right? I know surgery is scary but this one’s pretty safe isn’t it?”

I nod, “It is, but there’s the risk of me not being able to love anyone again, so I’m not getting the surgery.”

“What?”

“I’m not getting the surgery, I’m just going to have to move on.”

“Okay but if that doesn’t work you’re going to get the surgery right?”

My cheeks dust pink as I shake my head, “No.”

His jaw is locked, his whole body tense, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry. “You have to get it.”

“I’m not getting the surgery Peter, but you don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna move on and get better.”

“Are you kidding me?!” he snaps, “Telling me you’ll get better isn’t good enough! I understand if you want to try and move on first, but if that doesn’t work then you’re getting that surgery.”

“I’m not getting it at all Peter.”

“So you’re just going to die?!” his bottom lip started quivering, it startled me, I didn’t expect anyone to cry, “I’m not going to lose you just because some asshole doesn’t love you back! It’s not fair and I’m not letting it happen!”

“It’s not your choice Peter,” I hug myself because I have no idea what else to do, “Nothing is going to happen to me, I’ll be able to move on and I’ll be just fine. But, if for some reason that doesn’t happen, I really need you to respect my decision on this.”

A couple tears fell down his cheeks and he shook his head, “You cannot ask me to just sit back and watch you die.”

“I’m not, Peter I am going to be fine. I’m on medication that helps slow it down, and I’m seeing a therapist who specializes in Hanahaki’s, she’ll help me move on and I’ll be okay.”

“That isn’t good enough. There’s no guarantee you get better that way and that isn’t good enough for me.”

“I’m sorry Peter, but I can’t give you any other answers. I’m not getting the surgery, even if that kills me. I know that isn’t what you want to hear, and I’m so sorry, but that’s all I can give you.”

A few more tears escape and he pulls me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck and went to my waist. We stay that way for a second, he rests his head atop mine while I wonder what to do. I don’t really know how to make him feel better, I don’t even know if I can.

Peter is the one to finally break the silence. “Who is he?”

“It’s not important Peter.” “Yes it is! You think he’s worth dying over!” his voice cracks and I pull away. It’s really hard to see him cry, and I can feel my own eyes starting to sting at the sight. “You won’t even reconsider it for your best friend so I wanna know what’s so fucking great about him.”

I start crying while I realize I can’t ever tell anyone it’s him. I can’t risk Peter finding out, I don’t ever want to put that on him. “It’s not about who he is Peter, I just don’t want to risk never falling in love with anyone ever again. I know some people are okay with that, but I’m not, love is important to me and I don’t think I’d ever be totally happy knowing I couldn’t have that. None of this is on him, he’s a really great guy, I love him a lot and I know you would to. I don’t want anyone to blame him or be upset with him or anything.”

“Well I hate him,” he snapped, “And it doesn’t matter what you say about him. My mind is made up and I think he’s a dick.”

“You can feel however you need Peter, but he’s a good person, the best I know,” I wiped his eyes, “Can you please keep this just between us for me? I really need to tell everyone on my own terms.”

“I won’t say anything,” he promised before pulling me to him again, “Do you think we could just ditch tonight? I really want to talk, just us, and I want to know what’s going on. I need to be able to help however I can.”

 I nodded, “Yeah, I can make something up.”

He nuzzled his nose against the top of my head before pressing a kiss to the same spot, “Thank you.”

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I ended up texting Adeline, who assured me she’d cover for us so we didn’t have to stress out about it. Peter watched my every move while I washed the blood out of the sink and threw the flower out of my bedroom window. Luck for me, he didn’t notice what kind of flower it was, or at least he didn’t comment on it. Actually he just sat on the edge of my bed, honestly I think he was just too caught up in his own thoughts to actually process what was going on. 

“So, did you have some questions?” I asked as I closed my window and took a seat besides him. He nodded, “Yeah, a few. Do you have some kind of timeline of how it’s going to progress?”

“Well the medicine I’m taking will slow everything down, right now it seems like mine is slow moving and my doctor thinks I’ll have a few months, but it’s really unpredictable. Things could get worse very quickly, but she said that’s pretty unlikely in my case. The coughing will get worse and there will be a lot more flowers and blood, but physically I’ll be pretty okay until the end. As for healing, I have until pretty much the last moments for my feelings to be reciprocated or to move on.”

“What about the surgery?”

“They’re able to perform it until the infection moves outside of my lungs. If I get to that point they’ll hospitalize me, but it won’t get to that point.”

“How long would you have if it did?”

“A few days max, I mean they’ll do everything they can to keep me going as long as possible, but there isn’t much they can do at that point.”

He clenched his hands and gave one stiff nod, “You said your therapist specializes in this?”

“Yeah, and she’s really great, she’s going to help me move on and sort out my feelings and all that. She does a lot of work with patients and their families, and she’s got a really good reputation. I really like her so far.”

“Do you think it’s helping so far?” “Well I’ve only gone once so far, but I feel like I can do this. You can look her up if you want, her name is Raina Morrison.”

“I will,” he assured before taking my hands in his, “Are you going to see her again soon?”

“Yeah, tomorrow actually. That’s why I wanted to tell everyone tonight.” He blushed, “I mean it’s still good you told someone right?”

I nodded, “I think so. It was just a little more overwhelming than I thought it would be.” 

I’m a little nervous about seeing her now, I’m worried that telling Peter wasn’t good. She told me separation was a good thing, that it will help me move on, I’m worried I won’t be able to do that now. Peter’s really protective, he cares a lot about everyone, I really love that about him, and I don’t know if I have the heart to tell him that we can’t spend time together. I don’t even know what explanation to give him now.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have freaked out on you like that. I’m sure it’s not good for you.”

“It’s okay, having you guys know will be better for me, I need to have my friends support in this, it’ll make everything easier.”

“Maybe we can just love you enough that he won’t matter anymore,” the smile he gives is weak and forced, he still looks like he might cry again.

I don’t know what to say to make him feel better. I know he loves me plenty, it’s just not the right kind of love.

“Thank you Peter,” I just ended up hugging him again.

He held me tight against his chest, “If you wanted I could help you talk to everyone, even if you end up doing it one on one. Maybe it would be easier to have me there.” 

“It’d be nice to have you there,” I pulled away to keep from crying again, “You, uh, you’ll get it now if I’m a little evasive right?”

A look of confusion overcame his face, “No. What reason could you possibly have to avoid me now?” his bottom lip started quivering again, “You might not… No, I won’t get it, we should be spending every second together that we can.”

“I need alone time to process my feelings, that’s how I’ll get better.”

“Then I won’t say anything!” his cheeks had flushed again in an instant, “I can sit there and be quiet and do nothing, but I need to be there for you. I need to spend as much time with you as I can…”

“Peter you don’t need to start savoring your time with me or make all these precious memories or anything like that. I’m gonna get better,” I squeezed his hands tight and smiled to him, “And it would help a lot if you believed that too, because right now it kind of seems like you’ve already decided I’m going to die.”

“I do believe that, I know you’ll get better,” he sighed, “B-But what if something happens? What if you’re all alone and you just need someone? I should be here, I want to be here.”

How was I ever supposed to argue with that? I can’t tell him he can’t be here for me, I don’t want to tell him he can’t.

“Maybe we should watch a movie or something before we start crying again?”

He nodded and cleared his throat, “Good idea. Maybe something funny?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

We threw on some supposedly funny movie, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I don’t know if Peter was, but he seemed out of it too. We just sort of stared at the screen until everyone came back to my place. I had to get up from where I was laying with Peter and pretend I had food poisoning as Adeline told them. Really I just wanted to go to bed, the day had been extremely draining.

“Hey guys,” I smiled at them, doing my best to look sickly. 

Betty smiled sympathetically to me, “Hey, you feeling any better?”

I nod, “Yeah, I threw up a bit but I think I can just sleep it off. Don’t worry, Peter has babied me plenty.”

 “Well between that and the cough I think you need a little babying,” she wiggled a small container at me, “I brought you left overs for when you feel better.”

“I brought some for you too,” MJ added, flashing Peter a smile, “There in the car.”

“Thanks,” his cheeks dusted pink and I just prayed he wouldn’t give anything away, “I think I’m gonna stay with (y/n) tonight though, just in case she gets worse.”

“I’m sure she’s had enough of you hovering for one night Peter,” her smile dropped almost instantly, “I thought we were hanging out.”

I wonder if they’ve been fighting or something. A wave of guilt washes over me for avoiding Peter, for not asking if there was something he needed to talk about too. 

“We were together last night,” he frowned at her, “You know (y/n) and I haven’t hung out in awhile, and she’s sick, I should stay with her.”

“You two hung out all night and I’m sure her best friend and roommate is more than capable of making sure she doesn’t die in the middle of the night.”

Peter’s jaw clenches and I interject in the fear they may start arguing if I don’t, “Yeah, I mean thank you for taking care of me, but I’ll be fine. I’m probably just going to go to bed anyway, you should go hang out with MJ.”

His cheeks dusted pink and he nodded, “O-Okay, just as long as you're good…”

“I’m good,” I assured, “It’s been a long night, I really just want to get some sleep.”

MJ smiled, “See? You’re driving her crazy, just let the girl get some sleep.”

“I’m just taking care of her,” he snapped.

We were all quiet, Peter and MJ are always so mellow. I mean they act like they’ve been married for forty years, they don’t really fight. As long as I’ve known them they’ve just been… 

Stagnant I guess.

“Well she just said she doesn’t need to be taken care of so no need to smother her, right (y/n)?”

I just nod, “Yeah, I’m good. Peter go hang out with girlfriend, I don’t need to be babysat.”

He frowned, a small huff left his lips before he nodded, “Sure, whatever, let’s just go,” he gave me an awkward sort of side hug and called, “Text me!” before leaving with MJ, both seeming annoyed with the other.

Part 2

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Perfect Imperfections

Sam WIlson One Shot

Summary- 2.7k Sam Wilson x Reader. After a lifetime of issues with your skin that result in some scaring, you have a condition called hidradenitis suppurativa. (a chronic skin condition that has painful flare ups and leaves scars.) Letting Sam see these imperfections scare you, but he is a patient man. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- Needle use, mentions of skin imperfections, sexual moments. This is an 18+ Only Blog. 

A/N- This is written for @gotnofucks​ Body Positivity Challenge. As soon as I saw this challenge, I knew the topic I wanted to tackle with this. Thank you for such a wonderful challenge to participate in. Much Love always babes. 

Sam Masterlist

“I have what?” You cringe at the name, it's a long complicated name that ties up your tongue when you try to repeat it, the doctor gives a knowing smile in sympathy. 

“Hidradenitis Suppurativa, or HS.” He offered a simpler option for you, maybe one that wasn't so intimidating to say. 

“And how do I treat it?” You question nervously, what horror was it going to be? Some sort of surgery, endless medications, injections, or worse… would he tell you there was nothing to do but live with it. 

You were tired of living with it, you had the scars left over and really didn't want anymore. 

“I’m going to write you a prescription, some antibiotics and an injection that you will need every week.” 

Your heart lifted a bit when he filled out the email, sending it to your pharmacy. “Thank you.” you said with some relief that there was a solution to treating it. But nothing could take away what its already left behind.  

All your life you lived with these small sores that just came out of nowhere in the worst spots; inside of your thighs, under your breasts, under your arms. All these years you had been embarrassed to go to a doctor about them. But Sam finally convinced you to go when he saw you in pain and refused to let him come near you because they made you feel disgusting. 

That was the hardest part of it, was feeling you were hideous when you had someone like Sam who swore up and down every day that you were beautiful and tried so hard to prove it to you. Little text messages throughout the day, a surprise note stuck to the bathroom mirror for you to find, date nights out walking along the street with his arm around you and constantly whispering in your ear how he had the prettiest girl in town. All little things that he was persistent on, and sometimes they even worked. You would feel that shame lifting and your smile brightening for him. 

He would wink and press a kiss to your forehead in these moments. “That’s my girl.” 

Now you were sitting on the edge of your bed with the injection pen, your hand shaking slightly from the nerves. Earlier a nurse had shown you how to use it, and what to expect. 

But stabbing yourself was a different story then letting someone else do it. Your fear was getting the best of you and you had to set the injection pen aside. 

You drew in a ragged breath now that you were no longer holding the offending item, scolding yourself for not being able to do something so simple. 

Something your body needed desperately, cause maybe the flare ups wouldn't be so bad, you wouldn't be embarrassed to let Sam see you like he wanted, less pain. All of it could be better if you could get past this point. 

You never heard Sam come down the hallway towards your bedroom and happened to see you push away the injection, curl up on yourself on the bed. More then anything he wanted to take all of that pain and insecurity away from you, cause damn you were unlike anyone hes dated before. Sweeter then his grandma’s sweet tea, he could just bask in your glow that you brought to a room. Your laughter never failed to catch his attention from across a room and when you would set your sight on him, give that soft affectionate smile. Oh he was done. You made him feel like the only one in the room. 

And that was just the minor stuff. Everything in his building relationship with you settled in him as it all being so right, Sam was finding he wanted nothing more then to keep building a life with you. So these moments tore him because he just wanted to fix it for you. 

Sam gave a soft knock on the door frame before stepping into the bedroom. “Hey Sugar, you alright?” You rubbed at your face as the bed dipped from Sam sitting next to you and he grasped the injection pen, rolling it lightly in his fingers. 

“Yes…” You lied at first and Sam gave you a look, an arch of his brow that asked for the truth. “No. Im supposed to inject that and fuck it, my hand wont stop shaking just thinking about it.” You grasped your hands together and held them still. 

Sam rolled the injection in his own hands and tilted his head towards you, ghosting his lips against your cheek. “Would you like me to give it to you?” 

You cringed a bit, not that you didn't trust him, you trusted Sam immensely. You trusted him more everyday that you two were together. Sam was your strength, the one you leaned on. 

But you haven't been able to give up your body issues. That was something you were still scared to death for him to see. So much you wouldn't even let him see you completely naked in the light. Every night you would scramble to darken the room before settling into bed for the night. The horrible scars between your thighs that prevented you from wearing shorts or short skirts, the flare ups that shamed you till you would hide away making some lame excuse why you couldn't go out. Now this, having to take the shot made you squirm a bit to top all the other stuff. 

Sam tilted his head to brush his lips to your shoulder, trying to ease you. “If you want, I can give it to you. My Gram used to have me help her once in a while with her diabetes injections. You have a trained professional right here.” He tried putting you at ease, getting you through your uncomfortable feelings, but you pulled away a bit more. 

“No, it's not entirely that Sam.” You twisted your fingers together, looking down. “It’s-uhh- fuck. It's complicated.” 

He frowned a bit, setting the injection aside and reached his hand to cover yours, tugging lightly till your fingers weaved with his. “Well then let's uncomplicate it Y/N.” 

You lifted your gaze to look at him, this man who had the softest brown eyes and a smile that made your insides melt with just a few words, you felt silly, guilty and like a disappointment admitting anything out loud. 

“Me, I'm a mess. I will always have to do these shots, my body is going to have these issues whenever it feels like, I hate looking like this, I'm so scared to let you see me…” You dropped it all, Sam’s hand giving slight squeezes and when your voice started to crack, your words getting ahead of thoughts so they were all a rush, he reached to twist you to face him, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs sweeping sway at some of those tears tracking down your face. 

“Oh Sugar, if you could see what I see, you wouldn't be worried about what I see anymore. Your stunning, fucking beautiful baby and I’m more then happy to remind you everyday.” 

“You don’t know Sam, it's so ugly…” You started and he let his forehead lean against yours to calm you. You felt his hands slide around you and yours eased around him, breathe in, breathe out, let your mind stop racing. 

“You don’t have to show me today, or tomorrow. Never if you are never okay with it. It's not going to change what I feel and know. So I will remind you everyday that you are the most beautiful woman to me. You love me flaws and all after all.” 

You rolled your eyes a bit, scoffing. “You make it easy Sam.” 

Winking at you, he slid his hands up and down your back while he eased away. “And you don’t? Sugar, you are so good to me that Sarah already told me I would be a fool to let you get away.” You could feel yourself loosening in his hold, your own arms circling up around his neck to press against him, each hugging one another. You could feel soft presses of his lips to your neck, squeezing you a bit closer. “And I agree.” 

You giggled softly, nuzzling in against him and letting his strong feel and warmth wash over you. Hints of warm cedar and sandalwood tickled your nose, and suddenly everything was just better. You pulled away with a gentle “Thank You Handsome” 

“Anytime Baby… now... “ He picked up the injection one more time and dragged his teeth against his bottom lip for a moment in thought. “We don’t have to rush with anything until you are ready. But this…” He tapped the pen against his fingers. “Will you let me help you with it?” 

You nodded and he moved to kneel in front of you, heavy palms rubbing against the top of your jean clad thighs as you moved your shirt up over your belly. 

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous about this.” You say shakily and Sam smiles that reassuring one of his that makes you feel at ease. 

“Don’t you worry Sugar, I got you.” He was gentle when he pinched a bit of your skin and pressed the pen to the area. You started shivering, your breathing caught. “Hey, look at me, m’kay?” It took a moment to pry your eyes away from the pen to his warm eyes. “Not gonna hurt, I promise.” 

Then there was a loud click and you jumped more in surprise at the sudden noise than anything. A slight sting was soon erased with giddiness that it was over and he was pulling the now emptied pen away from your belly. You sagged slightly in relief and Sam pushed himself up, gripping your chin gently and pressing an affectionate kiss to your mouth. 

“Told you Sugar, I got you.” 

Couple Months Later

You and Sam were messing around on the couch, your head laughing as he hovered over you, he was belting out a very off key rendition of Barry White’s Your Sweetness Is My Weakness while skimming fingers along your sides under your tank top and kissing down your neck. Your hands rubbed over his head to fist in the back of his shirt and tug it over his head, discarding it over the back of the cough. His own rucking your tank top over your head and leaning back on his thighs, whistling at you all stretched out before him on the couch, making you cover your face in embarrassment. “Hey, none of that. Fuck Sugar, you are so damn fine.” that last word hissed from between his teeth as his eyes dripped molten warmth, flaring in the pit of your belly.  

You peeked at him from between your fingers and arched slightly to reach behind you, unsnapping your bra and he eased it down, giving a groan. 

A very appreciative groan. The groan of a man who saw something he really wanted. 

His mouth landed on you as well as his hands, roaming supple soft curves and tasting your sweet skin, like a collection of honey dew salt on his tongue. A nipple swirled around his tongue with a hum that was like a jolt to your system. 

Lacing your veins with desire, you felt the mindless buzz of worries start to fade to the background while you enjoyed the sensations he built in you. Now and then you would catch sight of his gaze flickering upwards to you, a check in that you were okay with how this was progressing. Your body had a mind of its own, clearly aware of how to roll under his hands, enabling him to shift you further down the couch till he was inching to a kneel between your spread thighs. His hands slipped over your hips to hook his fingers in the band of your shorts, your hips arched for him to drag them away, but that is where Sam stopped. You gave an impatient whine and flickered your gaze up at him. A slight sheen of sweat coasted across his broad tensed chest, every part of him held back with anticipation, and you couldn't for the life of you figure out why Sam stopped right here. 

“This is what you want, Sugar? Are you okay with this?” 

Then it occurred to you he was giving you the option to say no. Some of those anxieties started to drift back, your fingers twisting together as you spiraled away from the moment. You wished he just kept going, not giving you the option. But that wasn't who Sam was. 

It was now or never, and your resolve settled in you, almost a comfort that you were taking this step with him. A nod made Sam drag his teeth across his bottom lip, taking your confirmation to continue. 

You squeezed your eyes shut while your shorts came off, and you felt the familiar calloused hands sweep along the inside of your thighs and spread you open wider, a soft gasp from him making your eyes shoot open in fear, was he repulsed by the scars?! You knew you should have never let it get this far. Everything in you was afraid to look and see his reaction, just picturing his handsome face looking at you in disgust. 

What you saw was anything but, Sam looked you up and down with nothing but lust in his eyes and an appreciative groan as he let his thumb trace along your slit, spreading your lips apart. “Y/N, you are absolutely beautiful Sugar, and all for me? What a gift.” 

You hovered at the pool side bar while Natasha mixed together a luscious fruity drink, anyone who said these drinks were “girly” simply didn't know. The amount of liquor she mixed with vibrant syrups till you had a tropical blue concoction would get you buzzed faster than any one shot of liquor could. It was just what you wanted. An explosion of fruit on your tongue that would leave you feeling good. When she handed it over, you sipped from the frosty edge with an appreciative hum. “Mmhh, perfect.” You praise while she wedged on a pineapple slice to the brim. 

“I know, you are telling me nothing new Y/N.” She teased while she whipped up her own, the red head sauntering out from behind the bar with her own drink, the two of you approaching the pool side to sit in the warm sunshine. Natasha settled in one lounger, stretching herself out with another sip of her drink before setting it aside. 

You spread a towel out and then unwrapped your cover to let your two piece bikini be revealed, no longer hiding yourself away. 

You felt no more shame in the scars inside your thighs, the dimpling of skin where sore have healed over and over. Sam had helped you chase those fears away over time and now when you applied your sunscreen, you looked over your shoulder to see Sam strolling along the pools edge, his eyes all over you with a wide grin. Making his way over to you two, his hand sweeping around you to grasp your sunscreen bottle while kissing your shoulder. “Let me Sugar... “ He brushed his nose against your neck while moving to sit in the other seat, scooting closer to spread the sunscreen across your shoulders. “You look fantastic by the way. Is this a new swimsuit?” 

You hummed while tilting your head forward, popping a shoulder as if it was no big deal, but it was the first time you had worn a swimsuit out in public in longer than you could remember. You felt his arms circle your mid section, pulling you back into his set so you could lounge back against his chest, your legs weaved through his. 

“Brand new Sam, do you like it?” 

He growled lightly against your ear while nipping your earlobe, whispering against the shell of your ear while he flushed playful kisses to that sweet spot just behind your ear. 

“Very much so, good luck stopping me from peeling you from it later.” 

Playful touches and heated kisses made you feel just like his queen in the summertime sunshine, unable to keep his affections to himself. 

[winterscaptain]

balancing out.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: thank you all for your patience this week! i hope you enjoy this one - a few of you have been asking for mom’s route 66 moment. here it is! i’ve got some really fun graphics comin out this weekend, so keep an eye out!

words: 3k warnings: canon typical mentions of injury and death, language

summary: “accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.” ― marcus aurelius, meditations. au!january 2021

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Haley’s sitting next to you when you snap to, sitting on a bench in a park. The same park, in fact, down the block from the apartment where you first lived with Aaron and Jack in 2012. 

This is the park where Jack learned to play soccer…

You have a feeling that something terrible has happened, that something isn’t right. 

“Don’t worry about that, right now,” Haley says, startling you a little. “You’re safe.” 

You look at her, finding her surprisingly aged in the time since you last saw her. “Haley? It really is you, isn’t it?”

She smiles at you. “Glad you can still recognize an angel when you see one.” There’s something behind her voice, the glints of her offbeat sense of humor you love so much. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snort. “You’re not an angel.” 

She shrugs with a wry smile. “Maybe not, but then again, maybe none of us are.” 

You take a moment to look around, finding the park exactly the same as you left it. Except, you note, you’re the only people there. The playground rests empty of children, curious dogs are absent from the grounds, couples lounging in the grass are nowhere to be found.

Why here? Why now?

All at once, the memory rushes over you. 

“Aaron,” you say, struggling for breath. You cough, and something wet crawls up your throat, making you cough again. Something dark lands in spatters across Aaron’s face and the collar of his shirt. You feel the compulsion to brush it away, but one of your arms feels leaden, trapped. 

He’s crying. And talking. 

“Hang on, baby. Hang on. I’m here.”

All you can say is his name, over and over, as you reach for him with the arm . There’s blood on your hands and part of you realizes you’re dying, probably. 

“What happened?” You hear yourself sputter. 

Aaron shushes you, brushing a shaky hand over your forehead. “It’s okay. You’re fine. You’re going to be okay. I love you. I’m here. You’re gonna be just fine.”

It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than you. You don’t mind. 

Everything goes dark. 

“Haley…” You look over at her again and she grabs your arm, stemming your panic. 

She shushes you once, short. “You’re fine.” 

Tears pool in your eyes before falling down your cheeks. “I don’t want to die. I’m not ready to go. Aaron, the kids, they - ” 

“You’re not going to die,” she assures you, standing and holding her hand out to you. “You’re just spending some time with me for a little while. Is that okay?” 

Her small, concerned frown warms you, and you know she’s actually asking. There’s a kind of understanding that she’ll just go away and you’ll be left in the darkness if that’s what you want. 

It’s not. 

“Yeah,” you reply. “That’s okay.” 

“Good.” Her face brightens and you stand. She tucks your hand into the crook of her arm and the two of you begin to walk, the landscape transforming around you. 

It doesn't make a lot of sense. You seem to walk through the park, then the apartment where you lived when Isaac was a baby, then the new house in Woodbridge with the twins, then the bullpen, all the way down the block to a house you recognize as Aaron and Haley’s - the big house they bought when they moved to D.C. in ‘98. 

The house where she died. 

“I have a couple people who really want to see you,” she says, by way of explanation. “I figured it would be easiest to meet here.” 

You step up to the porch and into the house, removing your shoes out of habit. There’s no trace of the blood or broken glass from the Foyet altercation. Everything seems in place, right down to Jack’s army men neatly arranged on the living room coffee table. 

It even smells the same - the light, floral smell of Haley’s perfume and something you can only describe as Aaron winds through the house, making it feel more lived-in than any time you’d been inside it after the divorce. 

“Momma!” A little girl with dark hair streaks across the room and throws herself into your arms. 

You catch her and bring her close. She’s probably six years old, maybe a little younger. When she leans back to look at you, you’re met with Aaron’s eyes. 

The recognition is immediate and you grin at her. “Hi, baby girl.” 

She smiles back at you, a mirror image. “Auntie Haley told me you’d come to visit.” 

“Did she?” You look over at Haley, whose fondness for your daughter is open and obvious. 

It’s only fair - my fondness for her son knows no bounds. 

“Yep. Gramma’s here, too.” 

You look around, your baby girl tucking into your chest as best she can given her size. Evelyn steps in from the back porch, closes the sliding door behind her, a glass of wine in her hand just like it would be in life, and smiles at you. 

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” she says, crossing the room to embrace you and press a kiss to your cheek. She and Haley look about the same age, maybe forty or forty-five. Her resemblance to Sean is more obvious in her youth, but Aaron’s still her own personal carbon copy. 

You relax into her arms, your daughter squished between your bodies. “Hi, Mom.” On the first inhale, the smell of her detergent washes over you and tears spring into your eyes again. “I miss you.” 

She laughs, leaning back to place one hand on your cheek and the other on your daughter’s shoulder. “I miss you, too. How are those girls? And my sweet boys?”

The thought of your family makes you smile and you attempt to push away the fear of leaving them…

Of leaving Aaron a widower again…

Stop. 

“They’re perfect.” 

Haley huffs from beside you. “Ev, can you please tell someone stubborn that dying isn’t an option here? At least, not right now?”

Evelyn smiles at you. “You’re not going to die, sweetheart. This is just a stopover point so you’re not alone. Aaron had one too, when he was in surgery a few years ago.” 

“He told me,” you say, feeling a little more confident. “He told me he talked to Haley.”

“Yeah and I reminded him it’s a good idea to pull his head out of his ass every once in a while.” 

You look over at her. “Thanks for that.” 

She snorts. “I thought he’d never ask you. It was the least I could do.” 

+++

Eventually, you end up on the back porch, sitting in the lawn chairs with the other Hotchner women. Time seems to move differently here, the golden light of the evening hours stretches far beyond what you’re used to, but it's nice. It’s not cold, not too warm, just comfortable. 

You hear the gate open and a familiar voice calls, “I thought I might find you here.” 

Standing, still keeping your little girl on your hip, you embrace Jenny with your free arm. 

Her smile is just as bright and warm as the first day you met her. Your daughter wiggles out of your grip and latches onto Jenny’s slacks. 

“Auntie Jenny, did you bring Aunt Shannon with you?” 

She shakes her head. “Not today, sweetie. Today is for your momma.” 

You take a seat on the arm of Haley’s chair and she snags her finger into your belt loop and says, “It’s almost time to go back.” 

You look back at her, a kind of forlorn feeling creeping up in your chest. “Can you come with me?” 

With a rueful little smile, she shakes her head. “No. But, I can show you something.” 

A screen sort of comes from nowhere, propped like a drive-in movie on the other side of the yard. Foyet’s there, manning the projector. You squint at him and he shoots you a salute and blows Haley a kiss. She catches it with a smile and a fond shake of her head.

By way of explanation, Haley says, “Things are a little different here. If they weren’t different here, they’d be different there.” She points at the screen and you redirect your attention. 

Time moves a little differently, but you learn that you’re watching your life unfold as if Haley hadn’t died, as if the most pivotal moment in your life with Aaron hadn’t happened at all.

You see years pass by on the screen - Foyet is eventually caught and killed (by Derek - a surprise). Haley and Jack come home. 

Aaron and Haley come to an understanding, and you make up the tripod in their odd little fitful family unit. Aaron moves back into the big house on the river - he’s never there anyways and he sleeps in the room that used to be his office when he is home. 

Emily actually dies. That one is another, rather more unpleasant, surprise. 

When you look at Haley, she tells you, “Where there is death, there will always be death, eventually. It balances out, one way or another.”

With Haley in the picture, Aaron isn’t as fearless in love as he learned to be with you, doesn’t have as much perspective. He’s riddled with self-doubt and addled with fears of disappointing her, of disappointing you.

You and Aaron dance around each other for years and years and years - it’s almost 2015 before he kisses you for the first time, almost another two years before he finally asks you out, another one before you get married, another one before you have your first child. 

Upon seeing him, you can tell he’s not Isaac. He’s a different boy, one that looks more like Aaron than you, who’s remarkably neurotypical, loud, and much scrappier than Isaac. 

Jack doesn’t call you ‘Mom’ and you’re not as close. 

Things are...wrong. 

Well, maybe not wrong, but they aren’t the same. Even with the added joy of having Haley in your lives after the fear and uncertainty, you’re acutely aware that this is the timeline that was warped in some way or another. Everything feels delayed or just off. 

You never have the twins or move into the Woodbridge house. Aaron doesn’t close the gap with Sean, who overdoses after a tumultuous battle with his addictions and demons. 

There’s a kind of smallness to that life that you don’t have in yours.

The images fade, leaving the blank screen, after what seems like an eternity spent experiencing an alternate reality that you might have wished for if you didn’t know any better. 

Haley tugs on your belt loop. “See? Couldn’t stay, can’t go back. The life you have is the best one that exists. And,” she adds with another little wry smile, “the only one you’ve got.” 

Jenny places her hand on your shoulder, your daughter still stuck to her leg like glue. “You’re not done yet.” 

“And,” Haley adds, “you have another surprise coming next year - around August.” 

At your squint, she continues with a little smile. 

“I’m not going to tell you, so you’ll have to stick around and find out.” She winks. “Thank me later.” 

When she stands, you follow Haley to the front porch. The rest follow behind you like a little band of ducklings. Even Foyet, who could be an unwelcome interloper, seems like a member of the family. Evelyn passes him a glass of iced tea when she settles in the doorway. 

It’s kind of funny, if you’re honest. 

“Aaron and Jack will be there when you wake up. Jessica has the little ones at home.” Haley holds your hands as she speaks, swinging them back and forth a little. “You’re…” She sighs, “really hurt. Like, really really hurt. You’re gonna be out of work for a little while, and your lung capacity will be pretty fucked...forever. You’ll be able to do everything, but you’ll need to take more breaks than you’re used to.” 

Your lower lip disappears into your mouth. “How’s Aaron?”

“Terrified.” 

+++

Aaron sits by your bedside holding your hand, watches the way your chest mechanically rises and falls with the ventilator. They intubated you right away to give your lung the space it needed to heal, but all he wanted was to hear your voice before they put you under, just one more time. 

It’s been a wretched three days. Your surgery seemed to stretch on forever, digging the bullet out of your chest, repairing the gunshot wound that shattered four ribs and perforated your left lung in six places. 

After surgery, you coded after your lung collapsed again due to a pulmonary embolism. That little incident sent you right back to surgery and Aaron’s blood pressure to the stratosphere. 

Since then, you’ve been stable, quiet, and, in the doctor’s words, “lucky to be alive.” 

He can still feel the blood you coughed up running over his fingers and landing on his face, the shallow heaving of your breath under his hands. 

Images of Haley and Kate and Emily flashed before his eyes as he tried to hold you together - horrible, horrible reminders. 

Would he lose you in the field, like Emily? 

Would he lose you in surgery, like Kate?

Would he be too late, like Haley? 

Selfishly, the thought of playing the part of a single parent to four young children scared the hell out of him. The twins were hardly two and a half, Isaac almost five. Jack…

He really hoped he wouldn’t have to hold Jack’s hand as he delivered another eulogy for another person he called ‘Mom.’

If he was a single parent again, he would be tasked with raising three more children who wouldn’t know their mother - wouldn’t remember you after some time. 

Just like Jack with Haley. 

He was terrified of becoming a shell of a man without you, leaving his children practically orphaned overnight. 

Sitting in the waiting room during your first surgery, he decided that he’d quit. He’d take whatever the bureau offered and quit for the sake of his children, for the sake of Jack and Isaac and Caroline and Sophia. He wouldn’t let them lose another parent to the field, to the relentless pursuit of evil. 

Now, beside you, he holds your hand and talks to you as much as he can, knowing all the while you can’t hear him. 

+++

“I love him, Haley.” 

She grins at you while Foyet rolls his eyes. “I know you do.” Pausing as if to think for a moment, she adds, “When you wake up, don’t panic. You’re intubated. It’s...” Her head wavers back and forth a little as she searches for words. “...Unnerving. And uncomfortable. But you’re tough.”  

She kisses your cheek, Evelyn and Jenny give you a hug, and Foyet kisses your hand. 

“Say hi to big man Aaron for me, will ya?” He asks. 

You snort and shake your head. “Gimme a break.”

He shrugs. “Worth a shot.” 

+++

Your eyes snap open and you see the ceiling before anything else. Remembering what Haley said, you try to ignore the deeply uncomfortable pressure in your throat, chest, and mouth as you squeeze Aaron’s hand. Jack’s asleep, his long legs curled up like a little spider in the little corner chair.

Aaron meets your eyes and immediately reaches for the call button, assuring you, “You’re alright. You’re intubated, honey. Don’t try to talk. Just a second, I promise.” 

The nurse arrives and takes care of your ventilator. You take it like a champ, mostly to avoid scaring Aaron any further. Your voice is raspy and worn when you speak. 

“Hey.” 

He takes a shaky breath. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

A little chuckle leaves you and you cough once. It hurts. “Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“That easily,” he scoffs, reaching for a lidded cup of water with a straw. “Your left lung practically exploded. You think that’s easy?”

You take the cup of water, pulling small sips. It instantly soothes your throat and you latently realize you have a feeding tube winding its way up your nose and down your throat. 

That’s a problem for another time. 

“Easy enough. You were stabbed multiple times - I hardly think one-upmanship is useful here.” 

Your humor has the intended effect. His shoulders relax and he leans over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Before you ask,” you tell him, “I feel like hell.”

“Yeah I bet.” There’s a little laugh in it. 

“I saw Haley, though. And our little girl. She’s almost six now.” 

Aaron perches on the edge of your bed, still holding your hand. “Tell me about her.” 

You do, as best you can remember. Things are disappearing from your memory, but you cling to the important bits. You tell him what you saw, how life would be different if Haley had lived, the way you two talked about him, the way his daughter fits seamlessly into the lives of those they’ve lost. 

“So she’s alright.” 

You nod. “She’s perfect. Haley’s taking excellent care of her, of course.” 

“Only fair,” he says. 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

+++

You’re in and out of sleep, but eventually, they remove the feeding tube and let you sit up to eat some bland pasta with some juice. It’s the best meal you’ve had in what feels like years. 

Jack sits on your good side, tucked under your arm and drinking all your cranberry juice and showing you the new games Dave got him on his Nintendo DS. The girls sit at your feet, playing with some blocks Aaron brought them. They’re attempting to stack them on your shins to no avail. 

Isaac’s sleeping against your chest. It hurts to breathe with him there, but you don’t want him anywhere else. 

It’s Aaron’s turn to sleep. He’s got untouched files on the little table beside the chair, just as he usually does. Maybe one day he’ll give up trying to pretend to do work with one of the team hospitalized. 

Haley’s right. This is the life you’re supposed to have. 

+++

tagging: @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @jeor @roses-and-grasses @word-scribbless @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos

[whiskey-writes]

Return Teaser

A SPN x reader fic

-x-

Six months. Eleven states. An area spanning from the west coast to a couple hundred miles east of the cascades.

And seventeen cases of hunters vanishing without a trace.

(Y/N) had been investigating the disappearances for the past several weeks. Even after figuring out the pattern, tracking this thing down had proven to be just about as easy as nailing smoke to a wall. It had taken her a handful of all nighters, countless hours spent pouring over the internet, and approximately five gallons worth of caffeine, but she at long last traced it all back to the source.

She played her way right into their hands, and now the real hunt began. The die was cast, and she had all her cards laid out on the table in a high stakes game of life or death.

“Hey, Bobby.” The weight of the words hung heavy in the stillness of the air. It wasn’t looking like she’d be making it out of this hunt alive, and that grim, unspoken reality read loud and clear just in the way she said hello. She was in some way thankful her call had gone straight to voice mail. It was easier if she just didn’t think about how what she was about to do would upset her uncle.

(Y/N) sat with her back pressed against the far wall, phone held up to her ear by her non-dominant hand. Her arm was propped up by her knee, while her opposite leg lay stretched out in front of her. She ran a hand through her hair and suppressed a weary sigh as she spoke into the phone. Barricaded inside the little cabin and armed to the teeth, there was nothing left to do but sit and wait as the moon rose higher and higher into the night sky.

“So, listen. I don’t have much time.” (Y/N) said, fingertips absentmindedly tracing the sigils etched into the stock of the shotgun that lay in her lap. She had soaked every bullet, blade, and weapon she could in dead man’s blood in preparation for the coming battle. “This whole hunt just went full shit show. We are dealing with vampires after all. But it’s not just that. This is far greater than we anticipated. I’ve got my back to the wall and I’m out of options. If I pull this off then there’s a chance I’ll be able to end this once and for all.”

(Y/N) paused, taking a shaky breath before confirming what Bobby will have already guessed for himself.

“They’re tracking me down as we speak.” These blood sucking bastards were targeting hunters, and (Y/N) was going to make sure there was hell to pay for it even if it cost her her life. “I’m holed up in some cabin just outside Missoula waiting for them now. It’s god damn near 23:50, at this rate the frost is gonna bite me before they get the chance.” She joked, shifting her position and adjusting her hold on the shotgun so that the barrel now rested in the crook of her neck.

One of the logs in the fireplace fell with a soft thud as the charred wood burning away beneath it crumbled apart. The subtle sound caused her body to tense up, anticipation making her jumpy. Chuckling to herself beneath her breath, (Y/N) tilted her chin up, letting her head fall back against the wall while her eyes drifted shut.

“One way or another, my bike better be back at the salvage yard one week from today, or Singer - I swear to god - I’ll crack open all of your beers so they go flat.” The playful threat brought a slight smile to her lips. Bobby knew full well how much her motorcycle meant to her, he’d been the one that helped her build it after all. This was her way of asking him to come get it if she never returned. “By the way, if you’re still looking for the TV remote it’s in the glove compartment of the Chevelle. I’m not sorry, and I regret nothing. Yell at me about it when I get back.”

With that, (Y/N) hung up and pushed herself off the ground. She wasted no time in destroying her SIM card and tossing the remains into the fire. She had more than just Singer’s number saved in her contacts and she wasn’t about to risk putting Bobby or anyone else in danger.

Another hour passed by in peace, during which time (Y/N) made a couple rounds of the small little cabin, checking and rechecking her defenses. She had taken all the blood she could when she broke into the morgue on her way out of town, right down to the very last drop. She knew she could hold her own for only just so long against a nest this strong, but (Y/N) was going to do everything in her power to slow them down.

~ x ~

“You’re a hunter.” Sam Winchester leaned against the frame of the doorway with his arms crossed, watching as his older brother got down on the floor so he could look under the couch. He wouldn’t have been able to wipe the massive grin from his face if he tried. “You kill monsters for a living, and you can’t find one little remote?”

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean snapped gruffly, his frustration steadily increasing the longer he searched.

It had been about six hours since they had brought Bobby home from the hospital. Sam and Dean had just finished working a case in Wichita when they’d gotten the call from the hospital informing them that a Mr. Snyderson had just been admitted to the OR for an emergency surgery.

It was roughly an eight hour drive from Wichita to the hospital, so by the time the boys arrived it was nearly three in the morning. According to the nurses, Bobby had been lucky; he’d come in at just the right time and they were able to remove his appendix before it ruptured. The surgery went well, there were no complications, and “Bill” would be able to go home after 24 hours of observation.

It was now just past six the next morning, and the two boys were making themselves at home while Bobby rested upstairs. Dean had made the discovery that Bobby’s TV was stuck on some shopping channel with the same infomercial crap on loop while Sam was out on a breakfast run.

Their brotherly bickering (and Dean’s hopeless search for the remote) was cut short the moment Bobby Singer walked in.

“Would you two idjits pull your heads out of your asses for once?” Bobby spat, absolutely furious as he walked through the door. He muttered violently under his breath as he retrieved a file from one of his shelves. “...of all times...that damn reckless, stubborn...”

Dean exchanged a questioning look with Sam. Something was wrong; Bobby was worried.

They both followed Bobby into the kitchen, where he threw the file onto the table before digging out his bottle of pain killers from the hospital bag that sat on the counter.

“What happened?” Sam asked gently. Dean occupied himself by eating one of the donuts Sam had bought for breakfast, while Bobby and the youngest Winchester took a seat at the table.

“My phone was turned off while I was at the hospital. I got this last night.” Bobby said, putting his phone on speaker before replaying the message. The three hunters sat in silence, listening intently as the message played. Dean had moved to take a seat at the table during that time, his brow furrowing in thought.

“She made herself their next target.” Sam stated. Bobby nodded grimly.

“Why?” Dean asked, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair. “Who is she?”

“Her name is (Y/N) (L/N). She’s been a hunter all her life.” Bobby‘s face fell as he spoke of her, too tired to mask the worry in his eyes. “And she’s every bit the bull headed, stubborn bastard her father was. Not to mention twice as reckless.”

Bobby opened the file filled with papers hand handwritten notes, sliding it over towards Sam and Dean so they could look through it.

“A couple of weeks ago I get a knock on my door at four in the morning on a Saturday, and there stands this stinkin’ idjit all bright eyed and excited about some new case she’d stumbled across.“ Bobby scoffed.

-x-

Interested? Let me know if I should continue! Thank you so much for reading ❤️

[lovelylogans]

parallax

parallax, noun: the apparent offset of a foreground object against the background when your perspective changes. at a given instant, the moon appears among different stars for observers at widely separated locations on earth. astronomers directly calculate the distance to a nearby star by measuring its incredibly small positional changes (its parallax) as earth orbits the sun.

warnings: staying up late, unhealthy study habits, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan

word count: 2,211

notes: this is for day 2 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “song/stars” and i have decided to write about stars! please enjoy!

⁂

“Barlow lens,” Virgil reads off the notecard.

“A lens that’s placed into the focusing tube to effectively double or triple a telescope’s focal length and, in turn, the magnification of any eyepiece used with it,” Logan recites. His glasses are off, his hands are over his eyes, and if not for the absurd amounts of coffee they had both consumed and the bright lights of the empty classroom they are occupying, Logan would probably fall asleep.

If not for the fact that Logan loves astronomy so much, he would gladly fold it in for the night and get some much-needed rest. As it is, Virgil is also in his class, and he does not hold the same inclination for the subject.

And also, Logan has a massive crush on Virgil and would likely do anything he asks, except Virgil doesn’t know that part. He likely thinks that Logan is helping him study because of his deep love of science.

“Good. Me now.”

Logan picks up a notecard at random and squints it, resettling his glasses on his nose. “Nebula.”

“Great clouds of glowing gas, lit up by stars inside or nearby.”

“Dark nebula?”

“Not lit up and are visible only because they block the light of stars behind them.”

“Latin for?”

“Cloud.”

“Good,” Logan says, tucking the notecard at the bottom of the pile, or as close as a pile as he can get. Their study materials have made quite a mess. The notecards that Logan made are sprawled across the table, some tucked under their notebooks, and Virgil’s pens are tossed along the table within easy reach. The whiteboard is already filled up with mixtures of both of their handwriting, highlighting key concepts that they’d wanted to go through in this study session. They’re almost all crossed out—all that’s left is general review of key terms.

“Oh, here’s a hard one for you,” Virgil says. His black hair is sticking up in tufts, because he’s been running his hands through it and tugging at the ends for the entirety of their marathon study session. It makes him look very cute. “Albedo feature, and tell me a prominent one.”

“A large area on the surface of a reflecting object that shows a significant contrast in brightness or darkness compared to adjacent areas,” Logan says. “And Syrtis Major, on Mars.”

“You didn’t even hesitate,” Virgil says. “You’re definitely gonna ace this final.”

“Well, obviously,” Logan says, and it only occurs to him to perhaps pretend at humbleness when Virgil snorts. Logan feels his face heat, and he says, “I mean—”

“Nah, nah, it’s cool,” Virgil says, stretching out his long, pale arms, and Logan hopes he isn’t too obvious as he stares at the subtle lines of his biceps, his triceps, his flexor carpi radialis. He had taken off his hoodie two hours in, and his binder not long after that, leaving him in a loose black cap-sleeved t-shirt. Seeing him in it is its own unique brand of torture. Surely if he can manage to recall terms while staring at Virgil’s collarbones and the hollow of his throat he will be able to withstand whatever foot-tapping and pencil-chewing will occur in the large lecture hall during their final.

“You’re the one who’s gonna go for a doctorate in this, it makes sense that you’re incredible at it,” Virgil says. “I know it’s a big deal for you.”

“It is,” Logan says. Virgil knows this. They know quite a lot about each others’ life stories—Logan is the first in his family to attend college in America, let alone achieve a doctorate here. His parents immigrated from Nigeria shortly after his birth and all of them have worked hard—his parents, to provide a life for him here, Logan, to get into a good university in the first place.

“I’m the one who has to worry about making it out of their lab elective with a decent enough grade.” 

He knows that Virgil works hard, too. Their scholarship depends on maintaining a certain grade point average. There is no way Virgil would have achieved this scholarship if he did not work hard, let alone the fact that they have been studying in each others’ presence for the entire school year.

“You’ve done wonderfully this semester,” Logan says stubbornly. “The only way you will fail is if they feed the scantron in wrong while they’re grading and that’s easily remedied.”

Virgil’s brow quirks. “Thanks, specs,” he says, then makes a face, as if realizing how much he sounded like Roman just then.

“It’s just,” Virgil says, then hesitates before he shrugs and looks down at his notebook, avoiding Logan’s eyes. “I dunno. Um, I never really thought college would be an option, ‘till I got my scholarships.”

Logan, familiar with this story, just nods.

“And I,” he sighs, before he says in a whisper, “I really like it here. At university. I didn’t expect to like it so much. I need—if I want to stay, and I do. I need those good grades. And I want to stay, and the scholarship’s let me put aside enough money so I nearly have enough for top surgery, which I won’t be able to do if I lose my scholarship. So. I’m a bit.” A drum of his fingers. “A bit anxious.”

Logan surveys Virgil for a few seconds.

Virgil’s black bangs has swept over his face, obscuring most of his expression from Logan’s view. But he can see the muscle in Virgil’s jaw jumping, his shoulders practically hiked up to his ears. Even without the verbal acknowledgement, Virgil is portraying enough of the physical signs of anxiety that is obvious even to Logan’s emotionally oblivious eye.

Logan pauses, before he reaches across and places his hand on Virgil’s wrist. He likes the feel of it there—Virgil’s skin, chilled from the air conditioning, cooling Logan’s warm palm. He likes the look of it, too, the contrast of them, Logan’s skin seeming even darker against Virgil’s paleness. Considering Logan is black, this is something of a feat, and Virgil would likely have some sort of joke about how he is so absurdly pale that he manages to refract light.

Virgil looks up and chuckles awkwardly.

“But, y’know,” he says. “When am I not a bit anxious, right?”

He does not dislodge Logan’s hand, though. Instead he covers Logan’s hand with his own—his hand is quite large, and it is also cool from the air conditioning. The temperature of Virgil’s hand does not quite explain the jolt in Logan’s stomach.

Logan considers him for a few more moments.

“I have another astronomical term for you to learn,” Logan says decisively, and slides off the desk, standing on his own two feet “But you’ll have to follow me to learn it.”

Virgil’s lip quirks up. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Virgil smile widens. “All right, then.”

Logan’s stomach flutters, and he quickly turns his attention to gathering his notecards and notebooks as tidily and swiftly as possible, placing them into his backpack.

Virgil puts all of his things in his own backpack, and when Logan asks him if he’s ready, he simply ambles along after Logan as they walk out of the empty, quiet building on their university campus’ quadrangle. 

Logan leads them to the center of the grassy area, looking around, before he nods decisively and sets his backpack on the ground. He opens a pocket and fishes out the compact travel blanket he has in there.

Virgil laughs as Logan unfolds it. “You have a blanket in there?”

“Of course I have a blanket in here,” Logan says, shaking out the blanket before he lays it out on the grass. “Blankets are ideal for providing significant warmth and offering protection from hypothermia and precipitation.”

“You and your Mary Poppins backpack,” Virgil says, but there is a tone in his voice that Logan... hesitates to describe.

Is it, perhaps, fondness?

No. Logan is likely projecting his crush onto Virgil. He has a tendency to do that. Wishful thinking has been studied by various disciplines of thought and it is a very common occurrence for many people.

Logan wishes it would not be so common for him, though.

Virgil sits on the blanket, then.

“So,” he prompts. “That astronomical term you wanted to teach me?”

Logan smiles, just a little.

“Star party,” he says. “A gathering of amateur astronomers for the purpose of observing objects and events in the sky.”

He tilts back so he’s lying down on his back. He would be looking directly up at the sky, but he tilts his head so he can see Virgil instead.

Virgil’s smile has gone soft. “You want to star-gaze with me?”

As an answer, Logan pats the blanket, as a silent entreatment for Virgil to lie back. Virgil grins, shaking his head, before he acquiesces, settling on the blanket.

It would be so easy to reach over and touch him. It would be only a little bit more effort to roll and balance himself on his elbows, so his face hovers above Virgil’s. And from there it would just be the slightest downward tilt—

Logan redirects his attention to the night sky.

Though it is, obviously, not quite as good a view as they would have had in a more rural location—light pollution is a given on such a large campus—it is still quite a nice night. There are very little clouds in the sky and it is late enough that the moon hangs almost directly overhead. 

Logan points upward at a slight slant, using his right arm rather than his left, so that he will be able to look over and see Virgil’s face without having to lower his arm. “Polaris.”

Virgil shifts, close enough that it would only take the slightest jostle for their arms to touch. “The north star,” he says, and squints up at the sky. “Which means,” he reaches up to take Logan’s wrist in hand, using his outer arm, not the arm that is nearly touching Logan’s, and directs it slightly and Logan can’t breathe, “that Ursa Minor is right over here. Shame we can’t really see it.”

Logan hesitates, biting his lip, before he directs both of their hands again. 

“We can slightly see Ursa Major, though.”

Virgil shifts again, his shoulder pressed against Logan’s. “Huh. We sure can.”

Logan traces the shape in the sky, Virgil’s hand cool, loosely wrapped around his wrist. Logan hopes that Virgil cannot feel how quick his pulse is. “Colloquially known as the Big Dipper.”

Virgil shifts again. Their legs are pressed together now.

Logan continues, trying his hardest not to react, “Though of course, the Big Dipper is only part of Ursa Major. An easy point to find so you can see the rest of the Big Bear, which is—which is a more direct title for Ursa Major.”

“Mhm,” Virgil hums. He can feel the warmth of Virgil’s breath at the shell of his ear. “Hey, I think I see Orion?”

Logan would look up at the sky to continue his quasi-lecture, but instead he turns his head so that he will be able to see Virgil.

Virgil turns at the same time. There is a soft smile on his face.

Logan swallows hard. A hand around his wrist. Continually shifting closer to touch him. What he’d thought might be fondness in Virgil’s voice.

Conjecture: perhaps... Logan isn’t submitting to wishful thinking. Perhaps Logan is simply observing.

“Virgil?” He whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Virgil’s eyes crinkle up as his smile widens.

“Logan, I’ve been trying to flirt with you all semester.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Okay.”

Virgil lowers their hands from pointing at the sky so their arms rest upon their bodies, and he shifts his hands so that his fingers intertwine with Logan’s.

“I really like you,” Virgil says. His voice is trembling. His hand is shaking in Logan’s.

Logan’s eyes sting. He squeezes Virgil’s hand tightly. “I really like you too.”

Virgil laughs, but it sounds relieved more than anything.

“Um, okay,” Virgil says, looking a little stunned, as if he did not expect this to go as well as it is going. It’s very likely he did not, considering his anxiety disorder. “Cool. That’s—yeah. Great. Um. Wow.”

“I,” Logan says, and he bites his lip. “I do not have much experience with this. Liking boys. Dating, at all. I would like to have that experience with you. Would it be acceptable if I were to kiss you right now?”

“Incredibly,” Virgil says, “Incredibly acceptable.”

Logan releases Virgil’s hand, and carefully rolls so that he is hovering over Virgil the best he can. He has never approached kissing anyone like this before.

He has never kissed anyone before.

Logan takes in a deep breath, swallows hard, and figures he may as well just make an attempt. His heart is thundering in his chest. His hands are sweaty. He angles his face toward Virgil’s and closes his eyes.

Virgil’s hand settles on Logan’s back, and their lips meet.

And very suddenly, the two activities presented to Logan right now are star-gazing or kissing Virgil. And now he is kissing Virgil. He finds that he does not want to stop kissing Virgil.

Star-gazing would have to wait.

[writingsonawall]

Falling, fallen chapter 1

Pairings: Spencer Reid x OFC

Story summary: Spencer randomly meets Leah at the library and their first encounter was supposed to be just that; a random one-time occurance. When an unsub lands Spencer in the very same hospital she works at, she feels obligated to take care of him. But what happens when his team notices her everlooming presence and theorises that perhaps she could be the unsub they’re looking for?

Chapter summary: The guy Leah had met at the library just an hour ago suddenly gets wheeled into the ER where she works. 

Warnings: Mention of blood, but not a lot.

Wordcount: 6,6 k

Prologue, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7,

Leah hadn’t even been on call for half an hour when a stretcher was rolled in through the doors of the ER, someone shouting “Male, early thirties! Gunshotwound to the lower abdomen.” That was about all she was able to concentrate on. The ER was a mess of chaos, every available doctor and nurse running between patients. People were running into each other, medicalequipments crashing onto the floor every now and then, some patients screaming out in pain… Leah could feel the beginning of a migraine sneaking up on her. She almost never worked in the ER, usually sticking to Post Op. or the ICU, but there had been a masscollision on the highway that night so it was kind of like an all hands on deck situation. 

Leah was currently working on picking out broken glass from the arm of an elderly woman. It wasn’t a terrible wound, but judging by the way it was bleeding she’d probably need stitches. Still, Leah had no idea why she was there. Her injuries weren’t lifethreatning and the ER was overcrowded with other patients who actually needed their attention more than this woman. She’d be just fine if she had gone to an urgent care, but Leah wasn’t about to argue.

 “Leah, I’m gonna need you with me in traumaroom 2.” Dr. Ruiz called over the noise and it gathered her attention. She caught his glance across the room and saw that he was following the stretcher which had just been brought in by the ambulance. Leah quickly mumbled her apologies to the woman, pulled off her gloves and started to navigate through the sea of chaos. She eventually pushed the doors of traumaroom 2 open, rubbing her hands dry from the sanitizer she’d covered them with. 

“What’s his status?” Leah asked once she entered, quickly making her way over to the man laying across the stretcher. She knew why Dr. Ruiz had called her in here. The patient was a gunshotvictim, which usually meant a lot of blood. Typically, in cases like this, there were two doctors to check the injuries and make medicaldecisions. Gunshotwounds were always messy and it was hard to know what to expect, so two doctors in the room was always ideal, just in case the patient were to crash or there was a lifethreatning injury. But currently all doctors seemed to be otherwise occupied, so Leah understood why Dr. Ruiz had called her in. Blood and gore never bothered her, it actually made her calmer. The more pressure she had on her shoulders, the calmer and more collected she stayed. She was on the traumateam for a reason, although be it as a nurse, so she had seen a thing or two in her past. 

“Oh my God, Spencer!” She exclaimed, surprised to discover the identity of the man sprawled out in front of her. She stood there frozen in place for a moment, wondering what had happened. She had left him at the library not even an hour previously and now he was here, blood pooling slowly from the open wound in his abdomen. 

The surprise only shocked her for a split second before she shook herself out of her thoughts. Stroking a hand over his forehead, she matted his mop of curls out his face. Using a thumb to force one of his eyelids open, she grabbed a small flashlight from the pocket of her scrubs. 

“Spencer, can you hear me?” She asked him, shining the light into his eyes a few times, watching for any sort of unusual reaction of his pupils. She did the same with the other eye. “Spencer?” She asked once more. He was out cold, but his pupils responded as expected so that made her a little more at ease. 

“You know him?” Dr. Ruiz asked over his shoulder, roaming through the cabinets to find all the equipments he’d need to fully check the injuries. 

“Well, kinda,” Leah answered, not knowing what else to say in that moment. There was no use to lie about the fact that she’d met him an hour earlier, but she didn’t exactly know him. 

“Are you gonna be okay with this or do you need to step out?” Dr. Ruiz asked her, finally returning to stand at Spencer’s other side. 

“I’m good,” Leah told him, probably a little too fast to sound convincing. But it was true, she was nothing if not professional. 

“Okay,” Dr. Ruiz nodded. “Ready to move him?” He asked and it was Leah’s turn to nod. She pushed the stretcher closer to the bed in the room as Dr. Ruiz got out of the way. Locking the breaks of the stretcher so it wouldn’t budge, she grabbed a tight hold of the sheet underneath Spencer as the doctor did the same on the other side. They locked eyes and counted. One, two, three. In a split second they had Spencer lifted onto the bed with such ease it looked like they had done it a hundred times before. Which they actually probably had. Dr. Ruiz was one of the doctors Leah worked closest with, since he was typically stationed at Post Op. When they were both on call, Leah was nomally the person Dr. Ruiz would call for if he needed help. They were kind of a dream team; a force to be reckoned with whenever they worked together. 

As the doctor started to cut Spencer’s shirt open, Leah wheeled the stretcher out into the hall to give them space. Locking the door behind her again, she quickly took a look at his medicalfile which another nurse had just delivered in her hand. 

“This is gonna hurt. Let’s push for 10mg Oxycodone,” Dr. Ruiz told her once she returned to Spencer’s side. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Cave morphine,” Leah told him as she started slicing Spencer’s shirt open from his sleeve up to his shoulder. 

“Addiction or allergy?” The dortor asked. 

“Addiction. Dilaudid,” Leah informed him, having just read it in his file. She had already snapped gloves onto her hands and was working on getting the IV-kit ready. “Tramadol would be a safer option, right?” Tramadol was usually the kind of drugs they’d give to patients after minor surgeries or injuries to manage the pain. It was hardly as effective as Oxy-preparations, but it  was usually still enough to take the edge off. They hardly ever used it before they were able to assess the pain level of the patients, but it still seemed to be the least addictive morphinecontaining drug they had at hand. And given Spencer’s injuries some sort of morphine was needed despite what his medicalfile said. He needed something for the pain and NSAIDs weren’t going to cut it in that moment. They could handle whatever addiction-problem he had later; when he wasn’t in a potential life-threatening situation.

Dr. Ruiz nodded his head acutely, ordering her to administer 50mg. Leah worked quickly, finding a usable vein in Spencer’s hand and poking the cannula into it. Taping it down onto his hand, she hooked a bag of ring acetate to the pole by the bed and connected the tube to the IV. She noticed Spencer twitching a little at that and she moved to stand over his head. 

“Spencer, are you awake?” She asked, once again matting his hair back. She noted, even through the gloves she was wearing, that he was warm and sweaty. “I’m gonna give you something for the pain, okay? It’s Tramadol, so I hope that’s okay,” she informed him, even though she highly doubted that he was coherent enough to register her words. She did as she’d said she’d do, pushing a needle Dr. Ruiz had readied for her into the IV-tube and slowly administered the drug. While the painkillers worked its way through his system, she leaned over to help Dr. Ruiz. She put pressure on the wound on his abdomen while the doctor probed around with an ultrasound, trying to look for anything that could indicate whether Spencer had an internal bleeding. 

It didn’t even take a minute before Spencer calmed down, his twitching stopping completely and his breathing evening out. She was glad for that, not wanting him to be more uncomfortable than necessary. 

“You paged me?” A woman's voice startled Leah and she turned to the door which was now wide open. She was another doctor, but Leah couldn’t really recall her name. Not that she really cared either. 

“Yes!” Dr. Ruiz said, tightening the bandage they had just wrapped around Spencer’s wound. It was still bleeding, but the wrappings should be able to hold for the transport to the OR. “GSW to the lower abdomen. Patient is non responding, but stable. No sign of internal bleeding, but I’m sure he needs surgery to remove that bullet,” Dr. Ruiz informed the other woman who nodded along. She moved further into the room and cast a quick look at Spencer, checking the vitals, pupil responses, making sure the oxygenprosentage of his mask was correct before she once again nodded. 

“I agree. He’s stable enough to be moved? Then we should wheel him down to Pre Op.,” she concluded. 

“I’ll go with him,” Leah found herself speaking before she could even register those thoughts. 

“No, no, no, Leah,” Dr. Ruiz said, laying a clean hand on her shoulder. “I need you here in the ER. I’ll go with him and I’ll keep you updated. Don’t worry, he’s going to be fine.” His words reassured her a little. It’s not like Spencer was a friend or anything, but she knew him enough to put a name to the face and that brought this whole case a little closer to home. But she let him go, knowing she was needed more in the ER. 

She kept her hands busy for the next two hours before Dr. Ruiz finally returned, hovering just behind her as she was working on trying to determine if she should send the teenager in front of her up to radiology or not. 

“He’s in surgery now,” Dr. Ruiz informed her, not giving a care to the boy Leah was inspecting. He cried out in pain when she moved his foot at an odd angle. 

“I think he needs to take a trip over to radiology. Do you mind signing the papers?” Leah asked the doctor, not wanting to talk about Spencer right now, especially not in front of another patient. She let Dr. Ruiz take over the patient, but she hovered around until they had sent the boy on his way. She cleaned up after herself and took a glance around the ER. It was getting quiet now. The rush of patients had died down now and she spotted several doctors and nurses just hanging around, chatting and taking a well deserved minibreak. 

“Come on,” Dr. Ruiz said, putting a gentle hand on Leah’s shoulder. “Let’s grab a quick coffee and then you can head up to the ICU.” Leah had never felt more relieved by the idea of a cup of the shitty coffee the hospital had to offer. She really needed coffee now. 

Leah had always liked Dr. Ruiz. She considered him a friend, at least a workfriend. It’s not just that they worked well together, but he was always very considerate; always being there if she needed a shoulder to cry on at the end of a hard day, pushing her to take a break because she always refused to, bringing her powerbars if there was a busy day and they didn’t have time for a real meal. He was nice and she liked how she could always lean on him. 

“I don’t actually know him,” Leah finally spoke up once they had both filled up their cups with the cheap stuff the vendingmachines wanted to pass as coffee. Dr. Ruiz didn’t say anything, just gave a gesture of his hand for her to continue. He leaned back against the wall of the corridor and Leah mirrored him. “We just met earlier today, actually. I forgot my librarycard at the library and he found it, handed it back. We just had a small conversation, nothing big. But then I got called in for the accident, so I had to leave. I mean, I’d seen him just an hour ago and then they wheeled him in,” she explained, not really knowing what to feel. 

“And what? You blame yourself or something?” He asked, clearly reading her mind. 

“No, not really,” she told him, which was an obvious lie. “I guess it just shocked me. I don’t know. I mean, maybe it could have been me. I don’t even know what happened to him, but I keep thinking that it could have been me. Or maybe if I had stayed a little longer then this wouldn’t have happened at all.” She hadn’t heard anything about what had actually happened. Maybe it had been a robbery gone wrong, or maybe there had been a shootout and he was in the middle of the crossfire. She didn’t suspect the last one since they hadn’t received any other gunshotwound-patients, but the possibilities were still endless. All she knew was that he was brought in with a bullet in his abdomen and that he would hopefully pull through. 

“You know, you should really stop thinking like that. It’s not healthy,” Dr. Ruiz told her and it was exactly what she needed to hear. No bullshit excuse about how it wasn’t her fault or that there wouldn’t have been anything she could’ve done. Just a plain and simple command to stop overthinking. It made a small smile play on her lips. 

“Yeah, well… How can I not?” She asked him, glancing up. He gave her a sad smile, knowing it was hard to let those thoughts go. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his body. Leah sighed, leaning her head back into his shoulder while taking a sip of her coffee. He didn’t say anything else and neither did she. They just stayed there in silence for another few moments before he started leading her down the corridor. They said their goodbyes in front of the ICU, Dr. Ruiz promised he’d keep her updated on Spencer’s surgery. 

Leah prepared for a long night. Nightshifts were usually crap because it was so quiet and she was the kind of person who needed things to do. If she didn’t, she usually got all fidgety and restless, which was also why she never liked reading. She couldn’t sit still for longer periods of time. The more things she had to do, the better she felt once she got home at the end of the day. She had also prepared for a doubleshift, knowing the morning would be busy with doctorvisits, family coming to see their loved ones, breakfast coming around and helping certain patients go to the bathroom and get cleaned up. Yeah, she looked forward to the morning, but for right now she dreaded the long night ahead. 

Dr. Ruiz came up a little after two in the morning to let her know that Spencer was out of surgery and was recovering nicely. He’d been lucky, the bullet not hitting any major organs, but it had nicked his bladder so they were afraid of how his bladdercontrol would be. They wanted to keep him catheterized for a few days just to make sure everything was working properly. Apparently, he was also risking the development of internal bleeding and infections. Leah knew that, there was always a risk of that when it came to injuries like Spencer’s, but it rarely ever happened, not unless the bullet had nicked something or the surgery went wrong. But there was still a chance, so they always informed each other of it. She still knew that chances were slim so she wasn’t overly concerned about it. She was mostly happy he was going to be fine. 

Spencer was rolled into his own room at the ICU around 3:30 A.M. and Leah made it her personal business to check up on him. She finished the rest of her round rather quickly after that. Once she finished up the most important tasks she grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and some food from the cafeteria. For the next hour she hid out in Spencer’s room, figuring she’d deserved a nice, long break since she was going to pull a doubleshift. It was a quiet night anyway so she didn’t even feel remotely bad about it. 

He woke up a little before six in the morning, groaning softly from the bed beside her. Leah glanced over at him, giving him a moment to orient himself. She knew that her position was highly unprofessional; sitting a chair beside him with her feet propped up on his bed next to his. But she didn’t care. Her feet were aching and she loved being able to relieve the pressure for a little while. So, she played it cool, deciding it would be worse to drop her legs down in embarrassment. 

“Well, hey there, Stranger!” Leah decided to greet him with the biggest smile she could master. Spencer seemed to be more alert now and he had glanced everywhere imaginable; the door, her feet, the heartmonotor, the IV-bag, the ceiling. Still, his eyes wavered between her feet and her face. 

“You’re wearing mismatched socks,” he finally said. Leah couldn’t help but chuckle at that. That was probably the strangest thing anyone had ever said to her after coming out of surgery. 

“You know, we ruled out braintrauma pretty early on, but maybe we should still call neuro?” She teased. She could see a blush creep up his cheeks, taininting them in under half a second. His eyes roamed around again, finally locking in on the clock hanging above the door. 

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he told her bluntly and Leah felt like he probably wasn’t in jokingmood. “Where are my things? I need to call my boss,” he said trying to move up into a sitting position. Leah decided to just watch him struggle for a moment, finding it highly amusing even though she was still a little worried about him. He was probably still woozy from the anesthesia so sitting up appeared to be a struggle. Finally, Leah dropped her feet from his bed when he groaned out in pain. She walked over to him, putting both her hands on his shoulder and pushing him firmly back. 

“Don’t pull your stitches,” she told him. She took a seat in the chair again, grabbing the remote to bed and began to raise his back. He groaned out again when he was almost sitting, so she lowered the back a few notches again. “Don’t be a baby now,” she teased, but her voice was probably a little harsh. She couldn’t help it. She’d had a long day and she had been really worried about him. 

“I’m not a baby,” he whispered and Leah could see a pout on his lips. It only made her smirk. 

“You sure about that?” She asked, leaning over to snatch his file from the holder at the end of the bed. “You know what they say, right? About doctors being the worst patients?” She raised an eyebrow at him to give him the indication that she knew he was a doctor. It was in his file after all. 

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” he informed her and Leah just chuckled.

“Yeah, I figured that much out. I’ve been around enough real doctors, so trust me when I say you’re definitely not the type,” she laughed. “No offense, of course,” she decided to add as an afterthought. 

“None taken,” he replied, a little slurred. Leah looked over at him. “Can I call my boss now?” He asked and Leah sighed. 

“Spencer, look… they’re already here, your friends I mean-” He cut her off before she even had the chance to say anything else. 

“They’re not my friends. They’re my team.” His words surprised her. She hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to them yet, but she’d heard that they had all been really worried and constantly asked for updates on his condition. They seemed genuinely worried about his wellbeing. 

“And they can’t be your friends because they’re ‘your team’?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“Are you friends with your coworkers?” Spencer asked back, and it should’ve been a witty comeback, but he actually sounded interested in knowing. 

“Can’t say that I am,” she said after pondering the thought for a second or so. “Touché, by the way. But my point is, just take a minute to wake up a little bit. I’ll go get them later so you can see them, okay? Just please… take a breather, alright? And I want the doctor to take a look at you first as well. Do you even remember what happened? You just woke up from surgery after getting shot. Let that sink in before I call them in.” 

“I’m fine,” Spencer insisted, but Leah just shot him a stern look. She stared him down for what felt like too long before he finally caved, leaning a little further back in his seat with a sigh. 

“Good,” Leah smiled. She took a moment to really study him for the first time. He was actually really handsome, with these greenish eyes which got more honeybrown towards the middle and shaggy brown hair which she suspected was always unkept. His nose was straight and his lips slightly plump, skin clean. He actually looked like a specimen. The only negative thing she could point out were the dark circles under his eyes and she felt her heartstring tug a little, wondering what nightmares kept him up at night. The nasal cannula going into his nostrils made him look even sicker than he probably was, but it was still a sight for poor eyes. 

“So, you’re… a nurse?” He asked after a few more moments of silence. Leah couldn’t help the bashful smile that stretched across her lips. 

“Well, isn’t that kind of obvious?” She laughed, adoring how cute he was when he got all awkward. She took a sip of her coffee and decided it was time to call for the doctor, so she reached over Spencer's head to press the green button on the wall. Spencer was giving her a strange look and she had no idea what that meant. “What?” She asked him, cocking an eyebrow. His intense stare was kind of making her uneasy, but there was no way she was going to show him that. 

“I just didn’t take you for the nursing-type,” he mumbled. “No offense,” he quickly added, just as she had done previously. But he looked almost terrified about it, as if he was actually afraid he’d insulted her. Leah could only laugh. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she assured him. “I wouldn’t exactly picture myself as the type either, but here we are. I’m damn good at my job, though.” As if on cue the door to the room opened and Sophie, a young girl who happened to be Leah’s intern, stepped through the door. She decided to have a little fun with that. “Ah! Dr. Reid, meet my intern. Sophie, this is Dr. Reid. You’re in charge of him when I’m not here. Got it?” Spencer gave her an uncertain glance and Sophie had a look of pure horror on her face. She locked eyes with Leah, the ‘Oh dear God, he’s a doctor’ kind of look written over her face. Sophie was a sweet girl, but kind of slouch, and Leah had a tendency to play small little tricks to get her to work just a little harder. Knowing that the patient was a doctor (she didn’t need to know he wasn’t a medical doctor) would definitely nudge her to go the extra mile. 

“You, um, you called?” Sophie asked a little uncertainly and Leah found herself pleased when she noted the not so subtle way she leaned over to take a pump of the handsanatizer hanging on the wall by the door. It had been one of the many things Leah had added to her list of improving areas; always sanitize your hands before entering and leaving a patient’s room. 

“Yeah,” Leah tried to hide her grin. “Who’s on call right now?” She asked, knowing she could just as well walk out the door and find out herself, but she loved torturing her interns just a little bit. She never crossed the line, but she always pushed them around just enough that they’d remember who was in charge. She loved it, a little innocent fun. 

“Uhm, well… There’s you, obviously… and, uh, me and-” Sophie started and Leah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Sophie, calm down. It’s fine. I mean doctors, who’s on call?” Leah smiled up at Sophie, trying to reassure her that she’d only been joking. Well, at least half-joking. That was another one of Sophie’s flaws; she was too uncertain of herself and could hardly handle a joke. 

“Oh, um. I’m not sure,” Sophie mumbled, but didn’t make any move to find out. Leah just stared at her until she lifted her eyes to glance back. 

“So?” Leah asked and Sophie looked even more confused at that. “Are you gonna find out for me?” That seemed to startle her because she almost jumped. 

“Oh, right! Yes, I’ll be right back.” She was out the door so fast Leah couldn’t help but laugh. She shook her head to herself and stood up from the chair, leaning closer to the heartmonitor and noting down Spencer’s vitals on his chart. 

“That was mean,” Spencer mumbled. Leah looked at him for a second, pausing her hand which was still writing. 

“It’s a bit of innocent fun. I’m their boss and you see that pager behind you,” she pointed her pen at the wall behind his head. She didn’t even wait for him to try to turn around to look at it before she continued. “It makes me their God,” she finished with a smug smile and gave him a wink. Spencer narrowed his eyes at her. 

“She’s your intern. You’re supposed to teach her, not scare her half to death.” He sounded almost angry, despite the uncertainty in his voice. Wow, this guy really couldn’t take a joke. Leah sighed. 

“Look, it’s a bit of innocent fun. We have a good relationship and we always have a little debriefing at the end of the day. She’d tell me if I was being too harsh on her,” she said. She finished the chart and put it down in the holder by the end of the bed. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed a little. “You probably think I’m too rough on her or whatever, and sure, I probably am. But here’s the thing, and I probably shouldn’t even tell you this, but she’s insecure. She needs to learn how to stand on her own two feet. She’s probably gonna lash out on me one of these days and I’m gonna be so proud of her the day she does. She’s a snowflake and she really needs to learn how to stand up for herself.” She decided it was best to just be honest with him. In all honesty she shouldn’t care what Spencer thought of her, but she did. She didn’t want him to think that she was some heartless bitch. She loved being a mentor and loved looking out for her interns. Sophie, despite all her flaws, was her favourite. Leah could see her potential, if she just worked past her insecurities she’d be a damn fine nurse one day. 

“So, you’re… bullying her to make her, what, stand up for herself?” Spencer asked, surprise lacing his voice, but he didn’t sound angry anymore. That was a good thing, she guessed. 

“I’m not bullying her. Just pushing her buttons a little. Call it reversed psychology or whatever. It always works.” Leah grabbed her zipup hoodie which she had draped over the chair and stuck her arms through. She shook the hood in place so it wasn’t one giant ball in the back of her neck. Spencer gave her a small smile and she wondered what he was thinking. She didn’t want to stay long enough to figure out though. “Okay, well… I’ll go see about that doctor. I’ll go get your friends in a while, so hang out and try to, I don’t know, relax I guess? Call if you need anything,” she told him, placing a gentle hand on his arm just because she could. Grabbing her coffeecup under her armpit she took a few pumps of handsanatizer on the way out. She made her way to the nursesation just as Sophie came practically running down the hall. 

“Jameson’s on call right now,” She said, almost sounding out of breath. Leah wondered if she had been running all over the Goddamned hospital to figure that out. 

“Okay, did you tell him to take a look at 104?” She asked and Sophie’s eyes went wide. Leah realized quickly what that meant. “No, no! Sophie, it’s okay. Seriously. I’ll go find him. Don’t worry about it,” Leah gave her a reassuring smile, reaching out to squeeze both her shoulders. “Did you finish your schedule yet?” She asked, knowing her interns had some kind of schedule, like a plan, they were supposed to follow.

“Uhm, well, I still have to take out the trash in 109 and I have some other small things I haven’t done yet, but-”

“Don’t worry about that,” Leah cut her off with a dismissive wave of her hand. She threw away her now empty papercup and hung her hoodie over the chair by the computer. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. Take a break or something, get some air, whatever.” Sophie seemed a little reluctant to the idea, but nodded her head acutely. 

“Would you, uhm, like me to bring you back some more coffee? Black right?” Sophie asked and Leah couldn’t help but grin at her. 

“Yes, please. Take your time, though.” With that Sophie took her leave and Leah went to find Dr. Jameson to let him know that Spencer was awake and needed a quick check. She then went back to the nursingstation to check what was next on her to-do list. She finished her round rather quickly, even with Sophie’s small list of things she’d neglected to do, or hadn’t gotten around to do or for whatever other reason just hadn’t done yet. It was just minor things, so she didn’t mind. Sophie seemed to have been doing alright with everything else. 

When she once again returned to the nursingstation there was a steaming papercup with her name on it, decorated with a simple smileyface. Leah smiled at that. She sat down by the computer and started documenting the most important details of the nightswatch so the morningshift would know what had gone down. Just as she was about to finish up, Sophie approached her, fidgeting a little. 

“Thanks for the coffee, Sophie,” Leah told her, hoping that would ease her nervousness a little. 

“Oh, no problem!” Sophie smiled. “Uhm, Jameson took a look at the good doctor in 104 and-” Leah had to cut her off with a chuckle. 

“That’s what we’re calling him now?” 

“Well… he hasn’t yelled at me yet for screwing up and he’s actually been kind of polite, so… I guess?” She sounded so uncertain again. 

“Well, what did you screw up?” Leah wasn’t mad. Everyone made mistakes, even her, and she just needed to know if it was a major blowup she had to document or if it was a small thing that could hardly be called a mistake. 

“Oh, nothing I think? I’m just really afraid of messing up,” Sophie told her, rather nonchalantly and Leah felt a little proud of her for not freaking out.  

“Okay, good. Look, Sophie… You don’t have to be afraid of messing up. Everyone messes up and I won’t get mad or anything, alright? You know I’m only teasing you, right? I don’t mean anything by it.” Leah always felt good about having these heart to heart talks with Sophie. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s just, uhm, I’m kinda awkward, I guess.” Leah laughed at that and Sophie gave a soft chuckle as well. Good thing for her that Spencer seemed twice as awkward as her. Maybe that would help boost her confidence. 

“Anyway, sorry I cut you off. What were you gonna say about the good doctor?” Leah really liked that nickname, it seemed to be suiting him. 

“Oh, yeah! Uhm, Jameson said that everything seemed to be alright, but wants to keep him here under observation at least until tomorrow just to make sure. And he’s still on antibiotics four times a day and we can amp up his painkillers, but he doesn’t want any morphine.” That last part didn’t surprise her whatsoever. “And he decided to switch off the oxygen for now, but to keep it on standby just in case his saturation decreases.” That wasn’t a surprise either. Most patients receive oxygen after surgery because the anesthesia could make them sluggish and their breathing labored. Once it wears off they’d be taken off oxygen as well. 

“Okay, that’s good,” Leah said, nodding along. “Anything else?” 

“Oh, yeah. He, uhm, wants to see his coworkers now and I told him he could only see two at a time, because that’s still the rule, right? He wanted to see Hotch and J.J. first. I guess you could get them?” Leah nodded her head and gave Sophie a pat on the back before returning to finish up her reports. It was around 6:45 A.M. when she headed out to the waiting area with her coffeecup in hand, recently refilled after she’d downed the one Sophie had brought her.

“Do I have a Hotch and J.J. for Spencer Reid?” Leah asked, scanning the waitingarea. She somehow knew the people she was looking for before they rose from their seats to come greet her. The whole group of, wow, six people practically came running for her. 

“Is he okay?” One of the women, dressed in a very colorful dress and an excessive amount of accessories asked, almost screaming out. She must have been very worried. Leah noted the flowers in her hand and grimaced at the thought of having to tell her later that flowers weren’t allowed in the ICU.

“He’s fine. He’s fully awake now,” Leah tried to reassure her. “He’s given me permission to share the specifics of his condition, so I can do that now, or you can wait for the doctorsvisit later today to get some more details. He’s just been checked out by a doctor now, though, and everything seems to be alright. He’ll probably stay in the ICU until tomorrow at least before we consider moving him.” She gave them the rest of what she knew and they seemed pleased that he was doing okay. So was Leah. Bulletwounds to the abdomen were typically gnarly cases, but Spencer had been really lucky. 

“Can we see him now?” The darkhaired woman asked, sounding just as worried as the other one had been just a minute ago. 

“Sure, but he’s in the ICU and we only allow two visitors at a time. We’ve asked and he wanted to see Hotch and J.J. first,” Leah told them, still having no idea who the respective ones were. 

“What, so I don’t get to see him?” The dark skinned man asked. He sounded angry, annoyed and frustrated, but Leah didn’t find him intimidating whatsoever, even despite the fact that he towered over her. 

“As I said, only two at a time. But he can have visitors all day for all I care, so you can take turns to see him, I don’t care how you do it. But only two at a time.” She tried to sound stern, but she also had sympathy for them. They’d been worried sick all night and they probably wanted to storm his room and hug him.

“Come on! That’s a bunch of bullshit!” The man yelled, obviously getting a little agitated. Leah wanted to step forward forward, put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down or something, but before she got the chance the tall man in the suit, yes a Goddamned suit, stepped forward. 

“Morgan,” He raised his hand in a stopmotion which immediately calmed the man down. “We’ll be quick. You’ll get to see him.” That seemed to do the trick because he sighed in defeat and stepped back. 

“Alright then, follow me!” Leah said and turned on her heel, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. She had other things to do, not really, but she could at least pretend she did. Standing in the waitingroom and arguing with friends and family of patients was not something she wanted to spend her whole day doing. 

“Wait, Sir. Can you bring him these for me?” Leah noticed that it was Flowerwoman who had spoken. 

“Actually, Ma’am… flowers are not allowed in the ICU either. I’m really sorry. If we move him to another unit tomorrow, you can bring him whatever you want, but as of right now I’m gonna have to say no,” she said, turning her body to give the woman an apologetic look. 

“Oh.” She sounded utterly wrecked as she uttered the simple word and it made Leah a little sad. These people cared so deeply for Spencer. How could he possibly claim they weren’t his friends?

She brought J.J,, a young woman a little taller than herself, and Hotch, the man who had calmed down the black man earlier, through the doors of the ICU. She quickly located Spencer’s room and knocked on the door a few times before entering. He seemed pleasantly surprised to see his colleagues following right behind her. 

“Oh, Spence!” J.J. exclaimed, rushing over to his bed. Leah rubbed some sanitizer on her hands as she watched her bend down to give him a gentle hug. She grabbed his chart from the end of his bed again and noted down his vitals as the three of them exchanged their greetings, also reading through what the doctor had written earlier. 

“Dr. Jameson was in here earlier. He explained that we’ve taken you off oxygen, right?” She hated to break up their happy reunion, but she had to give him some information before she bid her farewell. They all turned to look at her as she disposed of the chart again. “You understand that if you experience any shortness of breath, any dizzyness, anything at all you have to call, right?” She asked, looking directly at Spencer. 

“Well, I’m a doctor, so, of course I understand.” His response brought a smile onto her lips. 

“Well, you’re not that kind of doctor,” Leah laughed, throwing his previous words back at his face. “Do you need anything before I leave?” She asked and Spencer shook his head. “Well, if you do, don’t hesitate to call,” she told him seriously while pointing at the caller behind his head. She turned to leave when Spencer spoke up again. 

“Does, uhm, does that mean I’ll be your God?” Leah was stunned a little, not fully understanding what he meant, but then she remembered how she’d previously joked about being a God to her interns. Wow, her brain was working slowly. She needed more coffee. 

“Hey! Don’t push it now.” She tried to be stern, but her lips tugged upwards on their own accord. She then bid her goodbyes, shutting the door on the way out.

[rookie-ramsey]

Eclipse, Chapter 3 (Ethan x MC)

Description: Five years after the birth of their unexpected twins, Ethan and Olivia are expecting their third child. Even if they planned the pregnancy this time around, they learn that not everything goes as planned.

Preview: “We know now that she’ll definitely need heart surgery. She has what’s called an atrioventricular septal defect. She’ll be okay for a couple of months, but then she’ll have symptoms of heart failure. The good news is that the surgery has a very high success rate,” Ethan explained.

Alan nodded softly. “Well, you know that whatever you need, I’m there. I’ll watch Zoey and Jonah anytime you need to be with the baby.”

Previous Chapter

At the end of the month, they left Boston for a trip to Alan’s house.

When Ethan pulled into the driveway, Zoey and Jonah clambered out of the backseat and rushed to the front door. Alan answered moments later and knelt down to hug his grandchildren.

“It’s about time you got here!”

They hugged him tightly. Jonah smiled widely. “What are you making for dinner?”

Alan chuckled. “I’m glad you asked. I’m making spaghetti and I need some taste testers for the sauce. I just don’t know who to ask.”

“We’ll do it!” Zoey volunteered.

“Sounds like I found the right people.” Alan ruffled their hair and stood up. The twins raced each other into the kitchen and Ethan and Olivia followed Alan inside.

“Something smells good,” Olivia noted.

Alan grinned. “It better! It was one of the first recipes Ethan learned how to make. His results back then weren’t nearly as good as they are now, but he learned fast.”

“Too bad that doesn’t apply to pancakes,” Olivia teased.

“Or dessert!” Jonah chimed in.

“He never did learn how to bake, did he?” Alan agreed,

“Nope. He always messes it up,” Zoey added.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “We’ve been here a minute and I’m already the topic of discussion?”

“Always.” Olivia squeezed his arm. A few minutes later, dinner was ready and everyone took a seat at the table.

“Jonah, Zoey, how’s kindergarten?” Alan addressed his grandkids.

Jonah smiled sheepishly, with the hints of pride in his eyes. “I got put in time-out today cause I woke someone up at naptime.”

Alan chuckled. “Has your daddy ever told you about his kindergarten time-outs? He had a few, if I remember correctly.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Alan confirmed. “One time he stole chocolate out of the teacher’s desk drawer. He even had an elaborate plan to get her to leave her desk.”

Olivia snickered, entertained. “That’s painfully adorable. How did he get caught?”

Ethan rolled his eyes, but his lips curled into an amused smile. “I wasted time trying to choose between the Hershey bar and the Snickers. When she turned around, I tried to get back to my seat but she caught me with a candy bar in each hand.”

“Such a shame. You could have gotten away with it.”

Ethan smirked. “Who says I didn’t? For all you know, I spent my time-out eating chocolate every time she turned her back to me. The plan wasn’t a complete failure.”

“Just when I thought the story couldn’t get cuter.” Olivia and the twins laughed out loud and resumed eating.

After dinner, they gathered in the living room. Alan gave the kids a photo album to look through, something they always wanted to do when they visited.

When they found the picture of Ethan as a child, his lips locked with the plush mouth of his teddy bear, Zoey giggled and held it up. “This one’s my favorite!”

Ethan cringed. “You remind me of that every time we’re here.”

Olivia grinned. “It’s a pretty fascinating picture. Little Ethan making out with a stuffed animal is pretty fascinating.”

“CPR.”

“Nuh uh, Daddy.” Zoey shook her head, tucking the picture back into the album. She and her twin continued flipping through the pages, amused with the pictures as if they didn’t look at the album every time they visited Alan’s house.

Jonah found Ethan’s basketball picture from middle school. “Daddy looks like a giant.”

Alan laughed. “He was the tallest kid in his class until his senior year of high school. Then he met someone taller than him and refused to learn the kid’s name.”

“How petty of him.” Olivia giggled. “I’m pretty sure these two are going to be skyscrapers, too.”

Once they’d looked through another album, Jonah and Zoey left the room to play in Ethan’s old bedroom, which now served as a room for them to stay in if they spent the night.

“We had another appointment yesterday to check on the baby,” Olivia announced.

“How did that go?” Alan asked curiously.

“We know now that she’ll definitely need heart surgery. She has what’s called an atrioventricular septal defect. She’ll be okay for a couple of months, but then she’ll have symptoms of heart failure. The good news is that the surgery has a very high success rate,” Ethan explained.

Alan nodded softly. “Well, you know that whatever you need, I’m there. I’ll watch Zoey and Jonah anytime you need to be with the baby.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

They stayed until the kids emerged from the bedroom, both visibly sleepy. Jonah tried to contain a yawn as he leaned against Ethan’s knee.

“Can we spend the night?”

Ethan shook his head and ruffled his son’s hair. “Not on a school night.”

“School is closed tomorrow!” Zoey tried.

“Nice try.”

Olivia stood up. “I think it’s time to start going home.”

The kids sighed but gave in and hugged Alan goodbye before they followed their parents to the car. Despite their insistence that they weren’t tired, they were both sound asleep before they’d made it out of Providence.

XXXXXX

Even though they spent most of their after-school time in the daycare for staff children, Zoey and Jonah knew the halls of Edenbrook just as well, if not better, than the employees.

When they  saw Bryce checking his schedule at the front desk, they rushed to the desk. “Uncle Bryce!”

Bryce grinned. “Hey, Double Trouble.”

Jonah pointed at the schedule on the wall. “Are you gonna cut anyone open today?”

“Two. I’m doing a kidney transplant. I cut the first guy open, take out his kidney, and then put it inside his brother.”

Zoey’s eyes widened. “Cool!”

Bryce laughed. “Sure is. What kind of trouble do you two have planned?”

Jonah glanced around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. “We’re gonna watch TV in the lounge. Don’t tell anybody.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Bryce assured them. Satisfied, the kids waved at him before they left, sneaking in the direction of the lounge.

They poked their heads inside to make sure nobody was inside. Then they dashed into the lounge and started perusing the available snack options. Once they’d picked out something to eat, they sat on the plush couch as if they belonged there.

They’d only been in the lounge a few minutes when the door opened and a confused-looking handful of interns stuck their heads in the room. One of them sighed and shook his head.

“Nope. This is the lounge.”

Curious, Jonah stopped clicking through the channels on the television.  “What are you looking for?”

“Uh… Dr. Ramsey’s office?”

“Which Dr. Ramsey?”

The intern’s eyes widened. “There’s more than one?”

Zoey hopped off the couch and grinned. “Yup! Our mommy and daddy. But Mommy usually goes by her old last name so people don’t get confused.”

“Uh… this folder says E. Ramsey.”

“That’s Daddy,” Jonah confirmed. He finished his cookie and pointed at the door. “We’ll show you.”

Looking simultaneously grateful and awkward to be accepting directions from five-year-olds, the intern looked back at the little group and nodded. “Thanks? We just transferred from another hospital, so we don’t know where anything is.”

“C’mon.”

Zoey and Jonah led the interns through the halls, knowing the way to the diagnostics office by heart. When they reached it, Zoey pushed the door open. “There!”

Ethan looked up from his charts and arched a brow. “What are you two doing, and why do you have interns following you?”

“We’re helping them!” Jonah explained.

“I mean, why aren’t you-” Ethan stopped, dropping the subject. The twins managed to escape daycare regularly enough that he knew better than to interrogate, so he motioned for the puzzled interns to step inside.

Curious, Zoey and Jonah lingered in the doorway to watch. When they heard a voice behind them, they turned around and smiled. “Naveen!”

Naveen grinned. “I think I need to put you two on the payroll.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage them.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they get where they’re supposed to be.”

“I presume you’ll be taking them on a detour.”

Naveen chuckled. “Would I do that?” With a wink, he ushered the kids out of the office. “I’ll tell you what. I think we need to go check out the new ice cream machine in the cafeteria.”

Tags, part 1

@princess-geek / @lapisreviewsstuff / @silverlitskies / @paulfwesley / @dr-brianna-casey-valentine / @junehiratas / @choicesstanblog / @trappedinfandoms / @justanotherrookie / @bellcat2010 / @desmaranj / @lion-ess24 / @nooruleman / @caseyvalentineramsey / @xee-na / @edith-eggs1 / @oofchoices / @schnitzelbutterfingers​ / @tefigranger​ / @jlynn12273​ / @laceandlula / @crazy-loca-blog / @somegdchoices / @briefdreamlanddream / @forthebrokenheartedthings​ / @lilyvalentine​ / @parkerattano​ / @drramseysownsme​ / @misswhit12​ / @drethanfreakingramsey​ / @juneiswriting​ / @macy-ray85​ / @swimmingauthordreamerbonk​ / @myusualnerdyself​ / @siaramsey​ / @takemyopenheart​ / @queencarb​

[passivenovember]

mama said to smile while I still have teeth : PART TWO

(part one)

(or) Billy gets his wisdom teeth removed and Steve understands things will not grow back in the spaces we leave for them.

--

Billy hops down from the passenger side like it’s written in a script or something. Part B of his master plan, logical in the journey of what happens next.

He swings the car door open and charges through wet grass. Neon green blades stick to the heel of his boot, lopsided smile drawn forward to inspect the ferns nestled on either side of a welcome mat that says Bless this Mess. 

It’s as if he’s been here before. 

As if he belongs.

Steve watches Billy collapse on the porch swing, arms and legs folded under him like a house of cards toppled over in the wind. He must not realize that it’s functional, or something, because Billy sits bolt upright and uses the toe of his boot to get the swing moving, once he does.

Really moving, like. Banging against the bay window his mother leaves clear for her azaleas, moving. 

Billy hollers. Makes grabby hands, like, “Push me!”

“You’re gonna get sea sick.” Steve chuckles, watching Billy shrug and take it for a ride. 

Billy brings the swing to a sudden halt, when. “How come you’re all the way down there?” he asks. 

Catching on. 

Steve watches him struggle to get his feet up on the swing. Feels his heart shudder in fondness, when Billy grins up at him triumphantly. 

“Didn’t know there were other options.” Steve says.

“There aren’t. Come here.” Billy gestures to the porch when Steve’s legs decide to fizzle out. “It’s a carnival ride. You got one on your porch, at your house, and--”

Steve claims of the second cushion when Billy removes the thumb from his mouth long enough to spell it out for him. “Cuddles.” He says.

Simple.

And his eyes are so blue. Bright. Steve doesn’t have a choice because, really, they’ve swapped sides with the rope. 

Up and left this dimension all together when the flea got squashed by the acrobat deciding that they could skip the apologies and get to the good part.

Steve realizes that he wants this. 

Billy. Scooting impossibly closer and humming the bridge to Mama Mia. “You smell good, Stever.” Billy says around the pad of his thumb. Dripping more blood down the front of his hoodie, and. Trying to get his face in Steve’s neck. 

Which should be gross, but. 

Steve just clears a path. Makes room for the warm nose that sniffs a trail up and around one ear. “You said I smelled like ass,” He accuses, sounding shaky. Star struck. 

Billy’s breath feels like fairy wings. “Wrong. I said you smell like sweet grass and have a sweet ass, didn’t you pay attention to my context clues?”

“Um.” There’s something warm on Steve’s throat. Going wet in the middle, parting and sucking and--

He pulls away. 

Billy smiles at him. tries to get in Steve’s lap but the bench moves with him and when the bench moves with him, Steve’s got a brick wall glued to his side. 

Shivering. Cold, or afraid. Nervous.

“You tired?”

Billy shakes his head. With his whole body. “Wanna hang out.”

“You can sleep for a little bit. I’ll still be there, when you--”

Billy grunts. Refuses, so. Steve rubs the side of Billy’s shoulder, instead. Fabric and muscle and heat living somewhere beneath his fingertips. “You don’t wanna go in?” 

“Nope.” Billy somehow works his way under Steve’s arm. 

Feels right, striking oil in the heartland.

--

It starts raining again. Somewhere along the way, it starts getting cold and Billy shivers, peering up at Steve like he made it happen. 

Like the heavens split open and bleeding at his command.

Steve chuckles, pushing off the swing and laughing harder when Billy squawks like an angry rooster. 

“Where are we going?” He demands.

“Inside.”

Billy seems to hate that, like. Instantly. 

“Don’t make me carry you, Hargrove.” 

“Oh, look who’s got Popeye arms all of a sudden.” Billy leans back on the porch swing, thighs spread like. He has no idea how fucking--

It doesn’t matter.

“You need to eat.”

“My stitches haven’t fallen out.”

“Yeah, and they won’t. Not for days.” Steve leans against one of the porch posts, trying not to crack a smile when Billy’s thumb finds his mouth again. “Unless you’re planning to eat your hand, we gotta get some mac and cheese--”

Billy’s off the swing before Steve realizes what’s happened. He wanders in between the ferns in their bright orange pots. Jamming a thumb at the number above the doorbell, like, “This door?”

And. “Yeah?”

“This is the one with the cheese?”

“And the mac too.” Steve winks at him, watching a warm blush spread across a sea of freckles. He cocks his head, like, “What’s up?”

“Maybe we can do inside.” Billy says harshly. “For a minute. To kiss the noodles, or something--”

“Kiss the?”

“Open the door.” Billy suggests. “Now.”

So Steve does, biting down on a smile when Billy clomps through the foyer, tracking dirt and grass and pieces of Steve’s heart across imported marble.

“This is so huge.” Billy says softly. His eyes go bright all of a sudden and he’s right in Steve’s face. “You probably have so many pillows here. And chairs. And blankets, too, like. The big ones--”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s build a fort, Stever.” Billy says desperately. He bounces a little, managing to knock more mud onto the floor beneath him. “Let’s build a house. For me and you, and the noodles if they wanna stay the night.”

Steve grins, untangling Billy’s fingers from his hair. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Steve points to the ground. “Boots off first, though.”

Billy jerks away. “No.”

“Stop being a little shit for like, three seconds--”

“Stop being party pooper. For like. Your entire adulthood.” Billy shoots back, collapsing onto the staircase and holding his foot in one hand anyway. 

Steve holds his breath. 

Billy stares at the boot, and his foot inside the boot, like maybe the connection between them is lost. 

Steve feels like an asshole for finding it adorable, but. Billy looks up at him through his eyelashes. 

“I think I’m still high.” He theorizes.

“Yup.” Steve tugs his own shoes off, placing them on the rack by the door.

“I don’t think I can untangle the knots.” Billy says miserably. He tries, though, scowling like the laces have done it on purpose.

Steve watches him struggle, and laughs at the struggle, before holding out his hands. “Give me your foot.”

Billy stares at him. “Really?”

“Our only other option is to wait around until you figure it out, and who knows how long that’ll take.” Steve says, waiting for Billy to shoot back with something venomous. 

He doesn’t. 

He coos, instead. Like a little baby bird, pointing his toes in the air with a giggle. “I’m Cinderella and you’re the prince,” Billy declares, laughing harder when Steve drops to his knees and gets the boot off in one go. “Prince Charming, Prince--”

“You’re just saying that because I have amazing hair and you have little blonde princess curls.”

“Hey.” Billy deadpans, holding out his second foot. “It grows out of my hair like that.”

“Head.” Steve chuckles.

Billy’s mouth falls open in a silent O, brows drawn in confusion. 

Steve puts both muddy boots on the rack next to his own, smiling down at Billy’s puzzled face. “Your hair grows out of your head like that.”

“It does?” Billy asks in wonder. “I like it. Do you like it?”

And. “Yeah. It’s cute.” Steve says, holding out his hand. “Come on. Lunch time.”

Billy lets Steve pull him up, swaying a little bit at their proximity. 

He doesn’t pull away, and.

This close his eyes aren’t just blue, they’re green. And yellow. And brown, like a kaleidoscope. 

“Am I a cute person, Stever?” Billy asks softly.

“The cutest.” Steve says. Without thinking, but.

It doesn’t seem to matter. Because Billy’s high as a fucking kite, wiggling his hips and saying, “I think you’re cuter than me. Softer. Like an opil painting, or maybe a box of raspberry macaroons.”

Steve chuckles, not even trying to pull away when Billy’s fingers try to force their way into his mouth. “When have you had macaroons?”

“I haven’t,” Billy admits easily. “But I always thought that maybe you tasted like one.” 

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but. Billy’s gone after that. Running his fingers along the wall and disappearing around the corner. 

“C’mon, Stever! I want cheese flavored kisses.”

And Steve.

Doesn’t think Billy will remember this. 

--

They order pizza instead. Steve knows that Billy’s gotta be careful with his incision marks. Not go to heavy on the fat and grease less than three hours after his surgery, but. 

Steve tries to hold blue eyes even as they slip through his fingers. Pools and rivers disappearing beneath the Earth.

He’s starting to think that maybe. 

All it would take is bat of those stupid eyelash and Steve would throw every responsible thought out the window. 

Billy says, “You got a laundry machine?” After the pizza performs its vanishing act. 

And Steve says, “Yeah, why?” 

Two seconds before Billy is stripping down naked. 

“Woah, woah, hey--”

“There’s Kool-Aid on my hoodie.” Billy says from behind a wall of fabric. “I can’t walk around with red juice on my clothes, people will know I’m a vampire then.”

“You’re a vampire?” Steve tries to look away from Billy’s stomach. 

The smooth planes of skin, soft just above a layer of muscle. He puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. Safe keeping when Billy gets the hoodie off in one go and he’s standing there. 

Shirtless.

In the middle of the room like some kind of wet dream Steve never even realized he had. 

Billy grins, curls sticking out in every direction. “They’d think it.”

And Steve’s brain is, fucking. 

Offline. Distracted. He blinks, tearing his eyes way from Billy’s chest long enough to go, “Think what?”

“That I’m a vampire.”

And Steve thinks he couldn’t be. Too tan. Too--

Alive. Steve shrugs. “I don’t think it.”

“That’s because you don’t think.” Billy tosses the hoodie onto floor. He points at Steve, like, “Can I wear your sweater?”

And Steve looks down at himself. “This one?”

“Yeah.” Billy says. “Smells like you.”

And Steve doesn’t even have to think about it. Doesn’t even consider what it might mean, pulling the fabric over his head and handing it to an asshole who examines his Kate Bush tee shirt and says, “That one too.”

Like he’s trying to make Steve catch on fire.

Steve shakes his head. “What will I wear if you take all my clothes?”

Billy shrugs, like, “Not my problem.”

And he’s uncovering truths with those eyes. Getting a little too close to the root of it, the revelation, so. 

Steve gives Billy the shirt too. 

And tries not to think about the four seconds that they’re both shirtless. Standing in a room together, just. looking. Charting unmarked skin, eyes glazing silver springs on bronze soil. 

Billy puts the tee shirt on, and the sweater over the top of that, until It’s just Steve. 

Half naked in the living room.

“I’ll go grab another shirt, and then, um.” It feels like the walls are burning down. Steve’s thoughts fall like bullet points. “We should go outside,” He says. “Wanna go sit on the swing?”

Billy frowns. “’S cold outside.” 

“Yeah, but.” Steve picks the hoodie off the ground. “I’ll keep you warm.”

--

Billy’s fingers don’t leave his skin. Don’t soothe, when they light trails of smoke over his collarbone. 

Steve leans into the touch anyway. 

Gives into the pull, anyway, when Billy grabs his cheek and brings their eyes together, looking every bit like he’s got something to say. 

Something important.

“What?” Steve asks. Wanting to touch. Wanting to--

“You know my mom threw a plate at my old man,” Billy says, eyes resting on a scar they both know is there. Hidden, like gold beneath caverns of rock. “The day she left, she. Threw my Mickie Mouse at him.”

“Your plate?”

“It was a bowl.” 

“I’m sure he deserved it.” Steve says easily. “I’m sure it was the only way to win.”

“There aren’t any winners with stuff like that.” Billy says gently. His eyes are watery again. Steve’s getting suspicious of it, like maybe that’s just how the world comes together for Billy. With water and sphere’s of blue. 

God hovering over the surface of the deep. 

Billy sighs, thumb twitching against his leg. “Neil would’ve killed her.”

And Steve hates Neil.

Knows more than be probably should. Pays attention, takes notes.

“That just means she’s resourceful, right?” Steve whispers. “Using the stuff around her to fight fair.”

“Wasn’t fair.” Billy whispers, finally looking away. Eyes studying the rain as it drips from the trees above. 

“Clean, then.” Steve shifts, rocking the porch swing as he sits criss-cross with his knees pressed against Billy’s thigh. “Even fight. Clean break.”

He wonders how he can get those eyes on him again. 

How he can be taken apart. 

“No such thing.” 

Steve doesn’t get it. “What do you mean?”

“All breaks sever the bone.”

And Steve thinks. Maybe. “Are you high?” He squints at Billy’s face, trying to see if it’s written on his forehead. 

Billy smirks. “I think so.”

“Still high.” Steve says, wanting to lift his fingers. Prod at swollen cheeks. He doesn’t, when Billy’s eyes start welling up again. “Don’t cry.” Steve suggests, sliding closer. “Don’t cry, Billy--”

“I’m sorry about--”

“I know.”

“That night. It was. I never should’ve--”

“She’s your sister.” Steve says fiercely. Because. “We were trying to protect you.” And he was. At the root of it all, deep in the center of himself. Steve turns outward again, feet planted on the ground. “We didn’t want you to get roped into our shit. With the monsters, you were.”

Billy’s staring at him. 

Watching. Steve can feel it, so. He closes his own eyes, just to even the score. To make it easier when his lips say, “You’re too beautiful to have your life cracked open like that.”

Billy doesn’t speak until he does, voice flickering like candle light behind a window covered in frost. “Life was already laying in pieces on the rug.”

And there are fingers in Steve’s hair. Brushing tears from his cheeks. Billy grabs him by the throat with more care, more. 

Love.

Than Steve ever thought he would get in this life. Billy moves him until they’re right in each other’s space. Breathing the same air, no longer running races to escape one another. 

It feels right. 

Billy smiles at him. “Thank you.”

And Steve doesn’t know what for. Doesn’t care what for, but there’s a finger on his mouth, parting his lips. Billy’s eyes burn a hole in his tongue. Clear a path through muscle and bone, until Steve is pulled forward. 

Into an embrace. 

Into a trilogy of kisses; on the corner of his eye. On the bridge of his nose. On the bow of his lip that turns biting. And bruising.

Billy asks if he can lay on Steve’s chest, because. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He says shyly. Billy kisses him once more and  and Steve.

Goes down easy.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Interim

set somewhere around Unrequited, that interim time when fighting fear in the daylight is one thing but battling it alone in the dark is another ...

Our Moment Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

It had been a longer case than normal, draining in every sense of the word: physically, mentally and emotionally, but they were almost there, he could feel it. Finally seeing a connection, everybody moved, organized chaos, Mulder and Scully amongst the throng of officers storming the building, guns out, ready for anything.

As with everything they ever did, it wasn’t easy. The suspect ran, hid, fired, threatened, ran again, fired some more, was finally taken down by one of the local cops but there was a foot chase first, that had them all running, searching, wishing his ass would just collapse and die in the middle of the street.

But it was done and sooner rather than later, they were de-briefing in the conference room, getting their paperwork in order. Looking around for Scully, to ask her what his writing said, he saw a glimpse of her back as she disappeared out the door. Usually she would have said something about going so, instead of letting her be, which she probably wished he would, he stood to follow, excusing himself from the talking crowd.

Scanning the front parking lot, he didn’t see her but deciding he might as well enjoy the unseasonable warmth of a Tennessee winter, he turned left, following the sidewalk around the building. Another turn left and he spotted her, sitting on the hood of their rental, facing away, small, hidden by a sea of police vehicles and employee parked Fords and Chryslers. He measurably widened his stride when he noticed her hand held up to her face.

He could see the blood dripping from between her fingers and down onto the pavement. Making it to her side, he pulled out one of several handkerchiefs he’d taken to carrying in his pockets and held it out to her, “take this.”

They had a routine, he helped, she let him.

It wasn’t long before the handkerchief saturated, Mulder touching her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a second with something else.” Seeing her nod, he ran back to the front door, asking calmly for some towels and getting them almost immediately, thanks to the helpful front desk officer and his mad organizational skills. Heading back Scully’s way, he was breathing heavy by the time she took his offering and dropped the soggy handkerchief to the ground. “Is it slowing down any?” Muffled ‘yes’ reached his ears but behind the wadded green towel obscuring half her face, he saw her skin sallow, white and translucent, veins beneath a blue map of fear. Now in front of her, he rested his hands on her thighs, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, smelling the iron tang of blood four inches below his nose, “do you want to go to the hospital?”

“Probably but I’d really rather just lay down for a few minutes, then get some orange juice or something, anything with some sugar in it.”

One last kiss and he pulled away, hand off thigh and up to towel, holding it for her so she could put her arms down, which she was grateful for. Every few seconds he’d move and check, finally finding the flow had slowed to a trickle, then finally stopped all together. Gently wiping away the smears from her chin, “I need maybe another half hour inside, then we can go or I can drop you at the hotel and come back.”

Desperately wanting a bed, she shook her head, “if you could just go find me something to eat, I’ll stay out here and wait for you.”

As he held her elbow, watched her slide from car to ground, “are you sure you don’t want a hospital?”

“I really don’t but thank you.”

“Fair enough.” Soon, she was settled in her seat, tilted back, coat near in case she got cold, “I’ll be back in a few. Don’t go anywhere.”

Eyes already shutting, “I won’t.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Tossing out the browning handkerchief, he carrying the clean towel he still had back to the station, having left the other with Scully. Handing it back to the officer, “thank you. I think we’ll need to keep the other one so if you’ll let me know what I owe you for it, I’d appreciate it.”

Shaking his head, “they’re just shop towels. We have boxes of them in the back.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you need any help out there? Something happen with your car?”

Another shake of his head, “no, we’re fine but thanks.”

Mulder then headed back towards the room of officers, finding the meeting over and the chief watching him approach, “everything all right? I saw your partner go, then you.”

Needing to be blunt because she wouldn’t be back in to help them finish, “I’d like to keep this quiet but Agent Scully has a medical condition that caused severe nosebleeds and she felt one coming on so she left. She’s out in the car now and I need to get her some juice first, then I’ll be back to finish up our end of the paperwork.”

Everyone had been cooperative, treating them well and even now, instead of irritation, the chief showed genuine concern, “is she alright now? Do you need to take her to the hospital?”

Looking around quickly, “she actually has cancer and the most the hospital could do would give her some juice and remind her that this kind of thing will happen.”

The chief liked the pair of them and crossing his arms, attentive, “is she getting treatment?”

Mulder really didn’t want to talk about this anymore, his mind divided between juice, Scully, paperwork, and Scully, “she is but with her type of tumor, surgery isn’t an option and the treatments aren’t doing much.” Needing to extract himself before he began sobbing in the large man’s arms, he inhaled slowly, “but we deal with it. Do you have anything I can take out for her?”

Having lost his wife to cancer several years ago, the chief recognized the look in Mulder’s eyes and knowing to end the conversation, he nodded, “come with me.”

Soon, Scully had her juice and crackers, Mulder returning inside yet again, this time determined to finish everything in under 30 minutes. As he watched Scully drink, he could see her color wasn’t returning as quickly as it should and the vacant look in her eye told him to hurry the hell up.

Thirty-four minutes later, he was shaking hands with the chief, accepting the man’s ‘good luck and God bless’ before leaving for the last time, opening the driver side door and driving off, his partner asleep in the seat beside him and even though he would never tell a soul, he actually checked to make sure she was breathing before anything else.

That action would haunt his sleepless nights for weeks to come.

She stirred once the car hit a pothole and looking up at his, blinking, “are you done?”

“Yeah. I’m going to pick us up some food first, then I’ll get you home.”

“I’d like a cheeseburger, if possible.”

Bag of food in hand 10 minutes later, Scully was nearly asleep again by the time they got to the hotel. Getting out of the car, she stumbled her way directly to her door, leaving behind bag, coat, shoes, and food. Smiling as he gathered their things, he followed her through her still open room door, shutting it with his foot, “do you want to change first or eat?”

“Eat, please.” Holding her hand out, “sorry. I didn’t even think to grab the bag. I just thought door and bed.”

“I’m keeping track. Once you get better, you’ll be my slave for a few weeks and we’ll call it even.” Saying it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he handed her a napkin, “you’re gonna need this.”

Dinner was quick, inhaled more than chewed, Scully unfocused as she chewed, her body exhausted, her mind slow enough to allow sleep if she could just lay down. Halfway through her second burger, she suddenly put it down, “I need to go to sleep.” Mulder tossed her the pajamas from the top of her luggage and after quick changing in the bathroom, door open, who cared, she crawled under the covers, apologizing as she went, “I’m sorry. I just … I need to lay down.”

“It’s fine.” Continuing to eat at the small table, “I’ll clean this up when I’m done and go back to my room but I’d like to leave the door between us open, if that’s all right? If you need anything, you can just yell for me.”

She was already halfway to dreaming but pretty sure she mumbled ‘okay’, she stopped caring, her muscles relaxing, finally, horizontal so much better than vertical.

Good to his word, he ate, cleaned up, covered her better with her blankets, kissed her twice on the forehead, then disappeared next door, opening the door between their rooms enough to hear her but not enough to disturb with the light of the TV.

&&&&&&&&&&

Her clock read 11:52pm when she woke up. Groggy math concluded she’d been asleep for about five hours and rolling over, she saw the adjoining door open as promised, faint light fluttering from some late-night B-movie Sci-Fi flick no doubt. She tried to go back to sleep, but a restlessness had settled, her mind beginning to churn with thoughts she didn’t want and emotions she didn’t need. Another glance at the clock told her she’d killed six minutes.

God-dammit.

Standing, she shuffled her way over to the adjoining door, pulling her side open more, then slowly pushing his, standing for a moment, watching him read the book propped on his vee’d knees. Leaning on the frame, bringing back a rush of memories from their first night together, years ago, running request submitted and denied in the middle of the Oregon wilderness, she cleared her throat, causing him to turn in her direction but not startle, which she would question at another time. Once he’d focused in on her in the darkness, she asked quietly, “want to go for a drive?”

He was having the same flashbacks and tilting his head at her, “you okay?”

“Can we just … I want to get out of here for awhile … ignore my brain …” head now against the frame, “I woke up and now … … … yeah.”

Tossing his book to one side, he stood, grabbing his wallet and keys, “let’s go.”

She loved that he didn’t ask anything, didn’t inquire, didn’t turn loose his psychology degree on her midnight suggestions, but instead, reached for her back and held the door.

“Any destination in mind?”

Settling into the passenger seat, shoes off, feet tucked under her, crisscross style, “anywhere but here.”

“Midnight wandering. Excellent.”

They drove in their typical silence, comfortable, comforting, depending on Scully’s frame of mind, for almost ten minutes before Mulder reached over, tapping her thigh, “how’s your head?”

“Attached.” Eyeing his hand, now dangling over the console, fingers still easily within tapping range, “nose is stuffy but the taste in the back of my throat is gone, so that’s something.”

Finger against her again, this time fingernail catching on the fuzzies of her flannel pants, “you scared me. A lot.”

Left hand shifting so she could stoke his knuckles, weaving in and around them in soft, satin fashion, “I’m sorry. I was doing fine. I felt fine until it just … happened.”

Hand finally moved enough to squeeze her knee, both shocked at his action and both wanting him to stay, “just … don’t do it again, okay?” Now he slid his hand over to wedge in at the bend behind her knee, “fingers are cold.”

They were most definitely not cold.

Another five in quiet, Mulder shifting to get more comfortable, left hand lightly on the wheel, right hand firmly on her and she returned to his knuckles, ventured to that little round nubbin’ bone in his wrist at times, until, “what will I have to do while I’m your slave? Are you going to make me clean your bathroom and feed your fish? Or will it be more of a Princess Leia thing? Gold bikini, ball and chain, looking hot in the corner when your friends come over?”

How he didn’t crash, he would never know, “do you own a gold bikini?”

“Like I’m going to answer that.”

Genuine grin out the windshield, “I think it’ll be more that I’ll make you watch movies with me and go play miniature golf and maybe, just maybe, I’ll force you to go to dinner with me.”

“Oh, the perils of slavedom in Mulderworld.” Resting her head back against the seat, “huh. Did you realize,” reaching her hand to the ceiling, pushing a panel back, “that we have a moonroof.”

Quick glance up, “I did not. I wonder if I paid extra for that.”

“The Bureau may have and I’m okay with that.” Studying the sky above, “I’m thinking that we should find a nice, quiet sideroad and turn the car off and open this up and see what there is to see.”

Giving her leg another squeeze, “I believe when I was sixteen, that was the line I used to get to second base.”

“I’ve always enjoyed baseball.”

He looked at her, face turned up still, smile faint but there, “how can you still shock me after all this time?”

“I’m amazing.”

Finding the sideroad and turning, “I’ve known that since the beginning.”

Her smile grew wider as he turned off the car, “you were weird at the beginning but intriguing enough to keep around.” Finally looking at him, “and I guess I’d use the word amazing … at times.”

Restarting the car just to get the roof open, he turned it off again, the sounds of night filling the car, “I’d like to talk about baseball again.”

Now she laughed, putting her seat back, “talk to me about the stars.”

Hating to do it, he removed his hand from her and matched her tilt back, scooting a little to the right so his head was near hanging off the rest, pretense of seeing out the roof better and all. She did the same and soon their forehead were almost touching, shoulders were. His hand missed her so it went searching again, this time finding her upper thigh, resting lightly, not allowing gravity to work in his favor, to pull him closer to third-base territory, “what do you want to hear about them?”

“Everything. Nothing. I just like to hear you talk, especially in the dark.”

Wondering if confessions were the name of the game tonight, “Sam once told me that she made a wish on every star, not just the shooting ones.”

“That’s an awful lot of wishes for an 8-year-old.”

“She had a lot of time on her hands apparently.”

Turning her head so she could kiss his nose, she returned to her side of the car quickly, “I wish I had that kind of time. I don’t think we’ve stopped long enough to have an actual conversation in months.”

Finally connecting his forehead to hers, “is that why we’re out here talking about stars?”

“Possibly.” Silence reigned again until Scully’s hand shot up, “shooting star!”

“Make your wish.”

Once she’d squinched her eyes shut, made her plea to the starry gods, she said, absently, into the shadows, “I know it won’t come true but I don’t think it hurts to ask.”

Twisting to his right side to face her, switching hands on her leg, quiet cursing that the console separating them dared to exist, “it never hurts to ask. I’ve been screaming the same wish for months. Someone’s bound to answer me, if for nothing else, just to shut me up.”

If she looked at him, in this instant, in this universe, she would fall apart, cracked pieces in his hands with no hope of re-assembly. Keeping her eyes on the sky, “my favorite constellation is the Southern Cross. You can only see in in the southern hemisphere but one day, I’m going to go to Australia and I’m going to sit there, on a beach, all night long, just to stare at it.”

“Whirlwind world tour?”

“I’d like that. I’ve got six other continents to see. Might have to start as soon as I can.”

“If I offer to provide breakfast and lunch, can I come?”

He watched her nod and smile in the starlight, “I never thought you wouldn’t.”  Catching his gaze at her out the corner of her eye, “you’re not looking at the stars anymore, Mr. Mulder.”

“I’ve got a better view down here on Earth, Miss Scully.”

Shaking her head, “the things you say sometimes.”

“Hey, I’ve slept in your bed. I’m allowed to call you ‘pretty’.”

Shifting to face him instead of the stars, she wondered if she dare share how much those nights still sat in the forefront of her mind, first before her diagnosis and second after he’d driven her home, taken care of her as she was sick, kept her warm as she came off her first round of chemo, “twice, actually, I’ve let you sleep in my bed.”

Moving his hand from her leg to run along her hairline, brief stop to rest his palm over her neck, “I think, someday, we should do that again, have a sleepover of epic proportions: scary movies, ice cream, pizza, and pillow fights. What do you say?”

Instead of the smile he’d been hoping for, he watched her face tighten, forehead wrinkle, nose flare, then contort back to normal Scully, just as her eyes filled with tears, which began falling immediately, “I’m scared.”

Sliding himself forward, hand still on her, he tugged gently at her neck until she moved towards him, “come here.” Meeting her lips for a brief moment, he went back in for another before resting forehead against hers, “I’m scared enough for both of us so maybe we should take turns. I’ll be scared Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and you can do Tuesday and Thursday.”

Wanting another kiss, she remained still, “what about the weekends?”

“We can share those. We’ll stay at your place one weekend then at mine the next. We’ll deal with it together. How’s that sound?”

Still crying, she almost laughed at the depth of the burden of solitude she didn’t know she carried until Mulder offered to carry it with her. Desperation nearly moved her to his mouth again but fighting it, she let out a wet, crackling sob before sighing, “thank you.”

“You’re not alone, I promise.”

Another shuddering breath out, she forced herself to back up, return to her own space, but found she couldn’t get far, Mulder’s hand still firmly on her neck, “Mulder.”

“I think we should talk about baseball again.”

Shutting her eyes against his searching look, she ignored the sudden tingling up her spine, “my head’s a mess right now. I don’t think I could separate ‘baseball’ from fear and I don’t want to ruin … it can’t be done like this. I’m sorry.”

She felt him pull away, then kiss her forehead lightly, talking into her skin, “you’ve got a dirty mind. I just wanted to discuss this year’s lineup for the Sox.”

Finally, she did laugh, gently bumping into his head with hers, “I’m more of a Cubs fan myself but talk away.”

“The Cubs? Really? What the hell is wrong with you?”

As they both separated, settled back into their own seats, Mulder’s hand back on her leg, “to be fair, that’s the first team I thought of.”

“Thank God. I thought I was going to have to rescind everything I just promised you. Although now, our Sunday fear sharing is going to be filled with baseball games, both live and from my couch.”

“I’d like that.” Silence between them filled with crickets chirping and frogs croaking, Scully reached down her leg to find his hand, lacing fingers together, pulling his knuckles to her mouth to kiss them, one by one, before, “I’d like that a lot and by the way, pretty sure you already rounded first.”

“Ahh, yes,” grinning upwards, “yes, I did.”

“Mulder.”

Her voice pulled him back from his amusement, “yeah?”

“I’m finally tired.”

With a chuckle, he looked over at her, “ready to go back?”

“No, but we probably should or we just sleep out here tonight and pray we don’t get eaten by bears or overzealous hunters.”

Mulder snapped his seat back up, “home it is.” It took twice as long to find the hotel because Mulder hadn’t paid attention as he was driving but eventually, they found their home away from home. Both were sleepy at this point and once inside Mulder’s room, Scully headed, heavy-lidded, to the adjoining door but stopped when Mulder spoke, “thanks for asking me to go for a drive.”

“Thanks for driving me.” Knuckling a knock on the door frame where she’d been leaning a few hours earlier, “it’s Friday now, right?”

“Yeah. My day to worry. Now go to bed before you fall down.”

With a nod and a smile, she disappeared into the darkness.

[kaimelia]

Can you write a story about link having an amputation and amelia supporting him

light

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

"Hey," Amelia whispered, smiling as Link opened his eyes, blinking quickly at the sight of the hospital room around him. "Don't try to move too much; your body needs time to rest." He rolled his head to the side to look at her.

"What happened," he muttered, his voice hoarse and tired, and Amelia watched as he attempted to keep his eyes open.

"You were in an accident, and you had to have surgery. You had a splenic bleed that Bailey fixed, you have a concussion, and your leg was trapped when they found you." She rolled the stool towards him and took his hand. "They tried to save your leg, but they had to amputate it."

"What?" His face tensed, and he glanced down. "Who did it?"

"Nico did. He had planned to save your leg, but there was an infection, and saving the leg would've cost your life," she hesitated, breathing slowly and pursing her lips. "It's gonna be hard, but Nico will come in later to talk to you about options for a prosthetic, because the earlier we can get you started on that, the easier the transition will be."

"I know all of this."

"You know it as a doctor, not as a patient." He exhaled quickly and looked away from her. "It's a totally different experience, now. I felt the same way when I had my tumor, but being a patient is so different than being the one giving the information, so you have to listen to him."

"Where's Scout?"

"He's up in daycare. Bailey doesn't want you seeing him just yet, not until you finish the round of antibiotics without any complications." He pulled his hand away from her and brought it up to his face. "Link, what're you feeling?"

"I don't know," he whispered, turning back to face her. His eyes were watery, and Amelia felt her heart sink. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"You didn't sign up for this," he shook his head. "I've seen patients and how it affects their family, and you don't deserve that." Amelia reached out for his hand again.

"I signed up for a life with you. When we decided to have a baby, we chose a life together, no matter what that looked like, so don't feel sorry. You would be here if it were me in that bed." He placed his hand in hers. "I know it'll be difficult for all of us, but we'll take it as it comes. Although, you might want to start preparing yourself now for Scout calling you a robot." He laughed softly and cracked a small smile.

"How long until I can get out of this bed? Even just to be wheeled around?"

"Maybe tomorrow; we're just making sure that you don't bleed out for a few hours, so you should get some rest and relax. I'm gonna take Scout to Mer's for the night; it's definitely past his bedtime," she muttered, turning on her phone and glancing at the time. "I'll check with Nico before I leave, and if you need anything, just ask a nurse to call me, okay?"

"Alright." Amelia squeezed his hand and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead.

"I'll be back soon. I love you."

"Love you too," he responded groggily, closing his eyes as she pulled away. "Goodnight."

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

"You're nervous?" Amelia frowned at him as she noticed his fingers drumming against the examination table below him. Link shrugged.

"A little. I'm just more than ready to get a prosthetic and be able to walk without crutches," he said while glancing around the room, one he had visited so many patients in. "Thank you for being here."

"Of course; I wouldn't miss it."

"I know, but for everything over these past weeks. I couldn't have done it without you, and I know it's been a lot." Amelia simply smiled and him and squeezed his hand.

"I told you we'd get through it together. Plus, Scout's been enjoying the extra company at home. I was bringing him home from Mer's yesterday, and he asked me if when you had your robot leg, you would leave him for work again." Link chuckled and looked up at her.

"He definitely gets his clinginess from you." They both turned as the door opened behind them, and a doctor walked through.

"Nice to meet you," he shook Amelia's hand and then Link's, "I'm Dr. Rosenthal. You ready to get a prosthetic?"

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

"Okay, baby steps," Amelia muttered, rushing over to pick up the fallen chair. "Take my hand."

"I didn't think it would be this difficult," Link sighed, running his hand across his forehead. "Sorry."

"I'm glad it's a chair on the floor and not you." She stood up and held out her arm. "C'mon, I'll help you." She looked up at him with a smile just to be met with his teary eyes. "Hey, don't be upset. He said it'll take time to get used to it; you're learning to walk with a giant stick where your leg used to be."

"I know, I'm just sick of it," he bit the inside of his mouth and sniffled. "I haven't been able to pick up Scout in weeks; I just wanna hold him and walk around." Amelia sighed and placed her hands under his arms.

"Let me help you, okay? Because the sooner you get comfortable walking, the sooner you can hold Scout." Link nodded slowly and gripped her arms. "We'll go slow, take your time, and just figure it out. Don't step until you're comfortable, and if you feel like you're gonna fall, I've got you."

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

"Dadda!" Scout screamed, jumping up from the couch and running towards his father in the doorway. Amelia grinned at them.

"Hey, buddy," Link smiled and ruffled his son's hair.

"Scout, be gentle, remember? Come stand on the couch, and Dadda can give you a hug here," she patted the cushion, and Scout came running, jumping up on the cushion and holding his arms out. Link slowly made his way over and hugged the boy. "Hi," she whispered as Link walked over to her and dropped a kiss on her head. "How was your first day back?"

"Exhausting," Link muttered, dropping down on the loveseat. "But, I got through it. What are you doing?" He gestured to the mess of brown fluff in Amelia's hands. She held it up, and Scout beamed proudly.

"Well, your son found a pair of scissors and wanted to make his teddy bear look like you," she pointed to the hole in the fabric. "But-"

"The teddy's guts got everywhere," Scout frowned.

"So, I'm sewing up the hole so he can have a one-legged bear." Link shook his head in amusement and chuckled softly. "I was thinking pizza for dinner? We can stay in and watch a movie?"

"Sounds good to me," Link pushed himself up and slowly gained his balance. "I'm gonna get in pajamas and grab some blankets, Scout; you wanna help?"

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

"How long into the movie did he make it?" Amelia shrugged, glancing down at Scout asleep in her lap, her hand toying with strands of his hair.

"Maybe twenty minutes? He was out quick, and I don't think he's woken up since," she smiled and looked up at Link. "I'll get him to bed."

"Can I try?" She raised her eyebrows.

"If you're comfortable with it, go ahead." Link stood up and walked towards them, leaning down and picking Scout up. "You good?"

"Yeah," Link whispered, taking a slow step. "I'm good." Amelia watched him walk away, the noise of the prosthetic leg sounding with each step. She got up as she heard the door open and tiptoed toward the doorway in time to see Link lowering Scout into his bed, placing a kiss on the boy's forehead, and walking towards her. "You did it," she grinned, taking his hand and leading him to their bedroom. Amelia turned around to see teary eyes.

"Happy tears," he whispered, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend and sighing contently. "These are super happy tears."

"I'm proud of you," she kissed his cheek and pulled back. "A month ago, you were lying in that hospital bed, and I was half-convinced you would never get out of it, and now? Your first day back at work done, and you picked Scout up." He turned and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Can you help me get this thing off? I'm ready to collapse from exhaustion." Amelia laughed and kneeled down, rolling up his pant leg and taking off his prosthetic. "Thank you."

"Of course," she smiled, rounding the bed and laying next to him. "Thank you for being so brave throughout all of this."

"You're the one who's done everything for me," he held his arm up for her to lay next to him. "I seriously would not have gotten here so quickly if it wasn't for you. Thank you. I love you." She snuggled up to him, resting her head on his chest and looking up at him.

"I love you."