#ive been awake for over 24 hours can you tell

[soursherbat]

torn between making nari's indoctrination into ramzi's cult into a fanfic or a comic..... I might just do both

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 2

Part 1

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers- Angst 🖤

Inspired by Wires by Athlete

Tw: hospitals, injury, Spencer near death

Your feud with Spencer feels trivial after you’re both shot

The first time you wake, you’re in a panic. The ceiling of the trauma unit is speeding by in a blur while people around you push the stretcher. There’s an immense amount of pressure and pain in your shoulder which is probably why you’re screaming. It’s also probably why every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire.

“They’re FBI agents! Get them in here now,” somebody screams.

You black out again and come to as you’re being moved onto a table. The room sways as you crash harshly into the metal surface.

“Spencer…” you murmur as one of the surgeons places a mask over your face. All goes black with shouts and medical equipment blaring in your ears.

-

The room comes into view in a blur. You try to glance around but the figure standing over you is indistinguishable.

Finally your brain catches up to your eyes and you see JJ and Rossi at your bedside.

“What happ…” your voice gives out.

“You were shot in the shoulder. It was a flesh wound, they got the bullet out,” Rossi says and places his hand on yours.

You allow Rossi’s father-like comfort to wash over you before panic seized you once more. The room stirs and your stomach drops as the reality of the situation kicks in.

You wince and lay your head back, it feels like someone placed a led weight in your shoulder. Then it comes back to you.

“Reid, what happened to Reid?” You gasp.

“He’s still in surgery,” JJ answers. Her tone tells you it’s bad.

“How long?”

“You’ve been here about 4 hours, Spencer’s been in surgery for 3,” Rossi informs you.

“Is he…” tears well in your eyes. He took a bullet for you. Both bullets should have hit you. Why would he do that?

“He’s in critical condition,” Rossi’s voice is filled with sorrow. The words are a blow to your abdomen, drawing all of the oxygen from your lungs.

“No,” you whisper and try to sit up. Guilt creeps its way in and claws its way down your spine.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N,” JJ reassures you. You shake your head.

The doctor enters and begins checking you out and encouraging you to rest. You argue that you can’t rest until you know your coworker is okay.

While the gesture was nice, whatever pain medicine he pushes into your IV sends you back into darkness before you can stop it.

-

The next time you wake, you feel more normal. As though waking up from regular sleep instead of from passing out in shock.

Sunlight filters through the massive glass windows which overlook the city. Your concept of time is non existent but at least you only have one IV in you now instead of three.

“You’re awake,” Garcia smiles and stands. Her usual bouncy optimism is missing in her words. She looks exhausted.

“Did he…” you don’t even know what to ask.

“He’s out of surgery. He’s critical but stabilized,” she answers in a hushed tone.

“I’m so sorry,” your voice cracks.

“Why are you apologizing? You were shit too,” she softens her voice and pushes your hair back from your face,

“That bullet should have hit me, I don’t know why he got in the way,” you sniffle.

“That bullet might have struck you in the head,” she raises her eyebrows like you’re being ridiculous. She was right though, your head is right at the same height as his neck.

“He couldn’t have known that,” you reason.

“No but he instinctively would have protected anybody on this team. He didn’t have to think about it,” she tries not to cry.

“I know,” you nod.

Just then Hotch and Prentiss enter the room, smiling to see you awake.

“Hey,” Prentiss hugs you gently.

“What are the doctors saying?” You ask anyone out loud.

“They’re hopeful you’ll only need to be monitored for another 24 hours,” Hotch informs.

“I meant about Reid,” you say.

“The bullet entered the front of his neck and lodged into his trachea. It was touch and go for a while but they were able to remove the bullet and reconstruct the damaged airway,” Hotch starts.

“He went into respiratory distress this morning and had to get intubated. He’s on a ventilator now. That’s why he’s still critical. He’s not breathing fully on his own and they’re trying to drain the blood and fluid from his lungs,” Garcia adds.

“I…” you lip quivers and tears start to fall. You’re horrified for him. “He must be so scared,” you whisper.

“He’s sedated, he doesn’t know what’s happening,” Prentiss says softly.

Of course he’s sedated, he wouldn’t be awake and intubated.

You’re about to say something when one of the ICU’s alarms begins to blare.

“Code blue, room 3489,” you startle and sit up as the three of them rush out of the room. Nurses and doctors take off down the hall.

“Wait!” You cry.

Code blue- someone is in respiratory or cardiac arrest. You want nothing more than to get out of the damned bed but you’re hooked up to an IV and an alarm.

Garcia nods and throws her hand over her mouth before darting back to you.

“It’s not him, it’s not Reid,” she huffs a relieved crying sort of laugh and hugs you.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t deal with losing someone on the team. It would destroy you.

You couldn’t imagine going to work and not competing with him to be the smartest in the room. It was annoying but god right now you missed it. You even missed his dad’s and his attitude and snarky remarks. You were so mad at him for taking that step in front of you. Yet you just wanted to be there at his bedside like the rest of the team.

“I want to see him,” you tell her.

“You will. You just have to focus on getting your strength back first,” she says. Garcia had a way of saying things that was so comforting.

The rest of that day was spent sleeping and getting a play by play of Reid’s progress.

-

The following morning you were up on your feet and able to walk around perfectly fine. Your arm was in a sling to prevent excess movement on your shoulder but for the most part you felt fine.

You were eager to go see Reid, though you weren’t sure why. The team had warned you that it wouldn’t be easy to see him hooked up to the breathing tube and other wires. You should be reluctant. But you just needed to show yourself that at the very least, he was still alive.

Stepping into his room was jarring and you froze in the doorway. His entire body was limp, his head flopped to the side, and his hair pulled from his face with a rubber band. He looked everything and nothing like himself.

He had drains and tubes coming out of his lungs and out of the hole in his throat, the tube down his throat forced his Adam’s apple to be protruded out, and you couldn’t count the amount of medication drips he was hooked up to.

His usual dark circles were deeper, more purple, his skin pale, and a feeding tube was inserted into his nose. You swallowed hard and took a slow step closer to him. He was always so animated and full of life, yapping constantly. To see him so motionless, so silent… it was devastating.

Morgan was sitting in the chair next to his bed, his head down next to Reid. He had fallen asleep. Reid was like his little brother, he hadn’t left his side. He was still wearing the same clothes from the night of the shooting.

You could see the breathing machine pumping, inflating his lungs for him. You could hear a low hum and what sounded like fluid in there. Occasionally it looked like he would cough or gag around the tube.

“It’s normal, his body isn’t used to there being a tube there,” the nurse informs you as she injects something into his IV line.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

“He’s not aware of it if it does,” she gives you a sympathetic smile.

His fingers twitched momentarily but it was the only sign of movement.

You pull a chair up next to him and sit slowly. You can’t take your eyes off of him. You physically feel your heart break seeing him like this. Seeing any one of your team like this would devastate you. But Reid… you had a complicated but reluctantly understanding with. He was more like you than anyone else there. Seeing him often felt like looking in a mirror, seeing him hurt was too much.

“The machine is only doing 20% of the breathing for him. The fluid has reduced a lot. This is progress,” Hotch says somberly. You nod and wipe a tear.

You wished Reid could talk. He’d give you a million different probabilities of how this could play out along with a run down of what all of the equipment did. He’d be realistic but you had a feeling he’d give you hope. Maybe though, you just wanted to hear his voice.

You touch his hand, and trace his fingers delicately. You wished you could help him. Wished you could do something.

Garcia rubs Morgans back and gestures for him to follow her. The team leaves you to have a minute alone with him.

“Why did you take that step?” Is the first thing you say through tears. “That was so stupid,” you laugh. “You’re supposed to be the genius,” you breathe out another tear fueled laugh.

You wrap your hand over his and squeeze.

“This team needs you, please just keeping fighting Reid,” you implore him. “Your mom will be here tonight. It took some strings to pull but Garcia has her on a plane now.”

“I’m so mad at you. You brilliant asshole,” you can’t help but to smile.

And then, you don’t know why you do it. He would hate it surely, but you stand up and plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Your hair looks ridiculous by the way,” you whisper and push the baby hairs back.

You start to think that maybe if you hadn’t holstered your gun, Reid wouldn’t have felt the need to step in front of you to take the shot. That’s realization hits you like a ton of bricks and forces you to sit back down.

You were really starting to feel like it was your fault.

“I’m so sorry, Reid,” your voice cracks and you squeeze his hand a final time before leaving the room.

“Let’s get you home,” JJ says and grabs your uninjured arm.

-

Days passed, days passed and you didn’t want to leave your house. You listened to the doctors and primarily did bed rest, but you were ancy.

Spencer had been taken off of sedation last night and was becoming more lucid. You would get to see him tonight. Garcia says he’s improving quickly.

The last few days passed in a blur, the same way a hummingbird passes by a kitchen window. You rub your arms and sip your coffee. You don’t know how what you’re going to say to him.

Part of you still warred with guilt, with the way that technically you guys didn’t even like each other. Yet something had changed. Something gave way that night. You couldn’t explain it but you needed to talk to him. Maybe you needed to know whether or not he blamed you.

Did you make a bad call by holstering your gun?

You didn’t know. Hotch still hadn’t debriefed you or taken your statement of events.

Night falls and you step into Spencer’s hospital room hesitantly. You had been haunted by the state in which you saw him last time, the trauma of it all clawing at your heart.

To your surprise, his bed is propped up and there’s a book in his hand. You smile with delight at the way he can’t help but attempt to lean forward over the book like always.

“Wow,” you say. It’s remarkable how much better he looks. Still injured, still disheveled, but so much better.

He waves at you with that flat smile he favors.

“He can’t talk right now,” Morgan informs. “But he wrote down a list,” he holds up a stack of books.

“Of course Dr. Reid wakes up from a coma and wants to read Dostoevsky,” you smile.

He doesn’t return the sentiment but grabs what appears to be a white board and marker. He starts scribbling before holding it up to you.

“How are you?” It reads.

“Sore, but alive,” you want to say ‘thanks to you’ but you refrain. Instead you take a seat on the opposite side of the bed as Morgan.

“Well now that you’re here, I think I’m going to go home and rest,” Morgan sighs and stands.

“You’ve only been here a week,” you joke. “Get out of here, we’ll call you if anything changes.”

Spencer starts scribbling on his board again.

“I’m sorry,” it says in his signature hand writing.

“For what?” You ask softly and adjust in your chair to look in his bloodshot eyes.

“That you still got hit,” it says simply and he frowns.

“Don’t apologize! You saved my life,” you respond exasperatedly. “We almost lost you Spencer. You have nothing to be sorry for,” you don’t realize it but you start pacing. “I was so mad at you for stepping in front of me. That bullet should have been for me,” you gesture at him.

His eyebrows furrow and he starts shaking his head.

“No.” He writes on the board.

You sigh and sit back down when you see that his heart rate increases significantly on the monitor.

“Are you okay?” You redirect the conversation. He thinks for a moment and you find yourself wanting to touch his hair, to comfort him. It’s a new desire, an odd one.

“They haven’t explained what happened to me. I don’t remember,” he scribbles.

“Do you want me to tell you?” You ask and place your hand on his.

He looks down at where you touch him but nods.

You tell him everything from the moment you saw him bleeding to the surgery and the coma.

“But you’re out of the woods and making great strides to recovery,” you finish.

He presses his palm into his eye socket as though his head hurts before writing again.

“Thank you. I’m okay,” is all it says.

“You’re straining your eyes by reading,” you point out when he blinks as thought his head hurts.

He nods, aware of that fact.

“Here,” you take the book from him. He lets you and points out where he left off. You begin to read to him and he lays back in the bed with a deep breath.

“…He was so obsessed with what had happened to him that he was afraid to put it into words, lest he should lose it all at once, lest he should be left with nothing. He was so possessed by the idea that he was afraid to think of anything else; he wanted to forget everything else, to think of nothing, to do nothing, to feel nothing, so as not to lose what he had gained…” you trail off.

When you glance over at him he’s gripping his journal, the pen beside him, and he’s fallen asleep.

You dim the lights and take his journal from him. You glance only at what he had dozed off writing.

‘I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.’

The quote takes you by surprise, mostly the familiarity of it. You can’t place where you’d read it before nor could you figure out why he was writing it.

Nonetheless you place the journal on the table beside him before moving to get comfortable in the recliner. You would sleep there tonight.

Sleep finds you slowly, the quote he sketched replaying in your mind. You’ll figure out where you read it tomorrow.

A/N: I just finished season 8, I had no idea until after writing this that Spence suffers a similar injury in season 9- oops.

[percivaljacksons]

preview

hi ive decided to stop taking myself so seriously -- when i finish this it'll go on ao3 as a oneshot, but this is what ive got so far of angsty divers au (no it still does not have a title). rated somewhere between t and m. can i get a hell yeah in the chat? um have fun lol.

..

NYT: A lot of headlines have already declared this as the discovery of the century—one even as the discovery of the millenia. Did you envision such a momentous breakthrough in your career?

PJ: Uh, no. I didn’t think I was gonna graduate high school. You can laugh, dude, but I’m not joking. This has all been one crazy ride. My life changed forever the moment I met Annabeth Chase. 

//

What Annabeth remembers, during the nights she tries not to:

The cold. The blackness so thick they might as well have been diving in ink. Percy’s mouthpiece, warm when he pressed it to her lips every twelve seconds. She’d breathe in, then tap his wrist twice, and it would disappear once more.

They’ve always been good at nonverbal communication. A twitch of an eyebrow here, a sideways glance there. She knows when he’s rolling his eyes without having to look. He always manages to pass her a tissue right before she sneezes.

Annabeth wonders if they’ll ever get out from beneath what they said to each other, down in the Pit, where neither of them could utter a single word.

//

The phone rings five times, tinny and faint in Annabeth’s ear as she waits. She’s breathing hard, her hair still dripping and her suit peeled down to her waist, a pair of sunglasses her only real protection against the late afternoon Mediterranean sun. 

The ringing cuts off, and a groggy voice says, “yeah?”

Annabeth glances down at her watch. “Percy?” She asks. 

There’s a beat. When the voice speaks again, it’s perfectly awake. “Annabeth?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I…I thought you’d be awake by now.”

“I’m in San Diego.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine. Good, I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, almost wistful. “Why the new phone number?”

“It’s temporary. I’m in Greece.” She listens to him breathe, feels her own heart settle. 

“Greece,” he repeats.

Her thumb smooths over the shard of pottery in her hand. “Yeah. How soon can you get here?”

“To Greece? Shit, Annabeth, I don’t—”

“I found it,” she says. A glance over her shoulder tells her that her two grad students are laughing as they organize her gear and not paying attention to her at all, but she lowers her voice anyway. “I saw it, Percy. It’s real.” She breathes in, then out. The boat rocks under her. “I found it,” she repeats.

Static crackles in her ear. “I’ll be there in 24 hours,” Percy says.

//

They’d gone down together, which was stupid. So much of it was stupid with even a few hours of hindsight. No one coming down after them, thinking they knew the cave too well to get lost, believing that doing everything right meant that they were safe.

Stupid. 

The light clipped onto her suit only illuminated about a twelve inches past her flippers. She could see the walls on either side, the familiar steadily making way for the unfamiliar as they descended to the section only Percy had explored. 

Percy’s flipper tapped her head. He was reminding her to stop and equalize her ear pressure, so she did. He was more experienced diving in salt water. It saved her life, in the end—she had her nose pinched and her mouth firmly closed when she got slammed into the wall regulator yoke first. 

The straps on her chest jerked from the release of pressure, but it was the feeling of the bubbles rapidly flowing up her that let her know she was really, truly fucked.

//

It’s been six months since the Pit, and three since they last saw each other in person. Annabeth thought he was in New York, Percy probably thought she was—well, Annabeth doesn’t actually know. Probably not where she’s been. 

She’s been in Sicily and Ostia and around sixteen different Greek and Turkish islands. She hasn’t stayed in one place long enough for her mind to settle, has managed to outrun every shadow that clung to her pumping heels, only now her throat burns and her muscles ache and Percy meets her at the arrivals gate in Athens with a fresh tan and an unsure smile and Annabeth is all too aware that her months of avoidance have come to an end. 

Percy comes to a stop a foot or so away from her, tantalizingly close. Within arm’s reach. “Hey,” he says. 

His hair is long enough that he needs a band to keep his bangs out of his eyes. She recognizes it—it’s the same one she’d used to keep her own hair from falling in her face when it started to grow back after she’d chopped it five and a half months ago. The duffel bag thrown over his shoulder is also hers, and so is the necklace peeking out from beneath his collar. 

Annabeth hugs him because she wants to kiss him. “Hi,” she responds. 

The duffel bag hits the floor. His arms wrap around her, fierce and firm, and she buries her face in the warm skin of his neck. Stubble scratches against her cheek; Annabeth breathes easy for the first time in something like twelve weeks. 

“I thought you might send one of your grad students,” he says. His arms stay locked around her. 

“You got on the first flight you could,” Annabeth responds, her voice muffled. “Least I could do was meet you halfway.”

His fingertips press the tiniest bit harder into her spine. “Thanks,” he whispers into her hair. 

Annabeth’s own necklace digs into her jaw. I’ve missed you, she says with the nudge of her nose against his pulse. 

He rocks them back and forth, just barely. I’ve missed you, too, he responds with the graze of his palms over her back. 

Annabeth takes a breath, takes in the unchanged feeling coursing through her blood, and finally manages to take a step back. “You ready?” She asks. 

Percy’s smile is dazzling. “You bet your bippy I am.”

Annabeth leads him to her rental with loosely linked fingers, her steps so light she’s half convinced she could walk right over the Mediterranean itself. 

//

The last time they saw each other—the last time she saw him—it had been in the artificial brightness of their living room. Annabeth hadn’t slept in days, Percy hardly ever looked her in the eye, and neither of them could muster the strength to turn off even their tiniest, most ineffective lamp. 

No matter how many times Annabeth took deep breaths, she was still gasping for air. 

Percy would turn on the shower and stare at the water hitting the other side of the curtain, the bathroom door firmly shut, and then turn the faucet off again without ever stepping in. 

They curled up together every night, their bedroom lit up like a department store, her fingertips leaving bruises in his hips and shoulders, and if they were lucky sometimes one of them could fall asleep. 

Annabeth left New York. Percy didn’t follow her. 

//

One of her grad students picks them up from the dock. They were the only passengers on the boat from the mainland, so she’s the only person waiting, leaning against a rusty pickup truck filled with scuba equipment. She’s also lazily smoking a cigarette, her bright blue hair lit up a striking cobalt by the sun. 

She drops the cigarette and twists her foot over it the moment she sees them approach. “Doctor,” she greets with a grin that’s a little too innocent. 

Annabeth glares at her. “Pick that up. We’re not here to litter.”

The grad student sticks a hand out to shake Percy’s. “Hey, I’m Lucy. You the pottery guy?”

“I leave for one day and your hair is blue,” Annabeth mutters, taking the duffel bag from Percy’s shoulder and tossing it into the back. “If you’ve been smoking in the truck…”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “No, Mom, I haven’t been smoking in the truck. My hair’s blue because Mitchell won our bet, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even stain the towels.”

“I like it,” Percy says. 

“See?” Lucy says. She bends down and picks up her cigarette butt when Annabeth keeps glaring. “The pottery guy gets it.”

“Um—” Percy tries to say. 

“This is Percy,” Annabeth explains. “He’s not a pottery guy.”

“When’s the pottery guy getting here, then?”

Annabeth goes around to the driver’s side and gets in the truck instead of answering. Lucy shrugs and moves the passenger seat up to slide into the rear bench, waving Percy away when he tries to get in. He sits in the front with a shrug once Lucy’s knees are out of the way, and the moment his seatbelt is buckled Annabeth tears out of the marina parking lot. 

“So.” Lucy’s fingers tap along the backs of their chairs. “If you’re not a pottery guy, who are you? ‘Cuz Annabeth found a piece of pottery on her dive two days ago and took off outta here like Icarus on his way to freedom.”

It’s a weird simile, but Annabeth doesn’t respond. When Percy turns to look at her, her eyes don’t even stray from the road. 

“You didn’t tell them?” He asks. 

Annabeth grunts. Percy keeps staring at her, wondering which question he should answer, and eventually says to Lucy, “Annabeth and I…” He sighs. “Well, we go way back. How long have you been her student?” 

“A few months,” Lucy says. 

Percy smiles and turns to look out the window. They’re along the coast now, and the ocean is blue like a jolly rancher. “She doesn’t need a pottery guy,” he says.

Lucy raises her eyebrows. She looks at Percy, then at Annabeth, then back to Percy again. “Totally explains everything,” she says, and the rest of the drive passes in silence. 

//

For weeks after the Pit, Annabeth was on the edge of a panic attack whenever she couldn’t feel Percy beside her. She knew why, logically. The therapist explained it, and everyone was so goddamn understanding. Grover, and Sally, and Piper, and Nico, and Clarisse.

Even her mother, under the thick layer of I-told-you-so that she didn’t bother to try and hide.

What can you say, when your head finally has broken free of the water? When all light is blinding, when you can’t get rid of the taste of salt on your lips?

What can you say to the person who pulled you back to life, when you’re the only reason his soul grazed the razor edge of death in the first place?

//

“Why are the vibes, like, literally rancid?” Mitchell mutters, loading the extra gear his advisor always insists on bringing onto the boat.

“Girl, if I knew,” Lucy responds, shaking her head. 

“You could help, you know.”

“I picked them up from the dock! No, don’t put the yoke by the O2—”

“You do it, then!”

“Fine.”

She joins him, loading in silence. After a minute:

“$5 they’ve boned.”

“You’re so on.”

//

They put their gear on together, her reaching out to zip him up without prompting and him holding her tank steady so she can slide her arms through the straps. They don’t have to look at each other to do it, so they don’t. 

Annabeth only glances over once they’re finished. His eyes are hidden behind his diving mask, and Annabeth’s heart migrates to her throat.

The last time she’d seen him like that had been—

“Ready?” She asks.

Percy nods. She goes in first, and he follows.

He’s still following, even now. But that’s Percy. 

From above the surface, it looks like a rock. A big rock, sure, but not dissimilar from the jutting stones that surround a lot of the Mediterranean, the jagged edges that contrast the white sand beaches. That’s been her main research tactic, recently—where do the tourists avoid? What stone has been left unturned, what looks so innocuous from above that no one would ever suspect it was an X, marking a very secret spot?

Under the surface, it’s a different story. Not an obvious story, but at this point Annabeth could navigate each curve and edge in her sleep. She does, on the nights she doesn’t dream of a blackness like tar. 

It’s a bright enough day that sunlight streaks through the water a good twenty feet down, exposing the imposing face of stone. There isn’t an entrance, really, but there’s nooks and crannies and crevices, and Annabeth is the particular kind of crazy to have wiggled her way through every single one she could. 

On instinct, she reaches down and clicks on one of her flashlights. With a confident flick of her feet, she propels herself towards the opening that started it all. 

There are three flashlights clipped to the straps around her shoulders. When she had zipped up Percy’s suit, she had noticed the four he had clipped to his.

She finds the optical illusion, the uneven meeting that looks like a solid wall. If you stare at it long enough, the ripples of light coming through the water reveal it for what it is. She presses forward, and just like six months ago Percy goes where she leads.

From there, it’s memory. Through the cave system, careful and slow, even as her heart pounds. Under the archway, chipped away from the rock, a little too even to be natural. She pauses under it and taps it with one hand. Percy nods in response. He sees it. He knows.

After the archway, it’s left until the opening below, leading down to darker and colder waters. Annabeth checks her backup flashlights, braces herself, and heads down. 

She doesn’t look to see if Percy follows. He either will or he won’t. 

The space gets smaller, then larger, jagged edges of rock cutting into the path. This wasn’t an entrance, as far as Annabeth can tell, but it’s the only way in she’s found so far. Everything else has been long since blocked off by time. Earthquakes, rockslides, storms, erosion, all of the above. It’s proper cave diving because of it, something that Percy has infinitely more experience in.

She reaches the air pocket and pops her head out. She takes a breath of stale, cave air and waits. A faint light grows steadily brighter.

Percy’s head pops above the water. He lets his rebreather drop from his mouth.

“Holy shit,” he says. “Annabeth, this is—”

Annabeth reaches through the water and grabs onto his rebreather with her left hand. Her right hand is busy clutching her own. They’re both attached to their diving tanks, obviously, but…

His hand covers her own. “I’ve got it,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Annabeth yanks her hand back. “Right,” she says. “Did you see the arch? I’m thinking 4,500, maybe earlier.”

Water drips from the low ceiling above them onto Percy’s diving mask. He doesn’t even blink.

“Plato said 9,600,” he teases.

“I know what Plato said.” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “What did he know?”

“4,000,” Percy says, shaking his head, “is neolithic settlers in Thera, precursors to the Minoans. Annabeth, that’s…that’s—”

“—the Older Peron,” she finishes. “The timing makes perfect sense, but I think there was something else. I mean, look at where we are. There were the rising sea levels during Holocene Epoch, sure, but—”

“—it was never at sea level,” Percy realizes. He gestures around them, splashing her with water. “It was already below sea level. Which is why—”

“—the rise was so devastating,” Annabeth continues, building on his enthusiasm. “They had fortifications of natural rock but—”

“—they were effectively trapped when the levels rose unexpectedly!” His voice echoes off the walls around them. “We’ve been going deeper and deeper this whole dive.”

“Probably a storm,” Annabeth says. “It was gradual, and then a big storm caught them off guard. They…they probably starved, if they didn’t drown. Those who didn’t made their way to Crete and kicked off the Bronze Age.”

The slow drip of water is the only sound between them for a long moment. 

“Where’d you find the pottery?” Percy finally asks.

“Up ahead. Ten minutes, maybe.”

“Is it all submerged?”

“I don’t know,” Annabeth admits. “Maybe, maybe not. I called you as soon as I had anything concrete.”

He takes his mouthpiece out of the water and slots it between his lips. Annabeth does the same, then heads back under to show him the way. She’s so excited to show him that she can barely even feel how the water has gotten gradually colder during their dive. It had freaked her out, her first few times trying to navigate the crags of the cave. 

Caves are always cold. It’s why they have wetsuits. Annabeth only wishes it wouldn’t take so goddamn long for her to warm up again once she was above the surface.

//

NYT: Your preliminary article talks a lot about the Holocene epoch. What does that have to you with your discovery?

PJ: Right, yeah, so that’s—we’re in that right now. That’s our current geological epoch. It’s an interglacial period equivalent to MIS 1, and started around 11,700 years ago. Basically, ‘Holocene’ is two Ancient Greek words smushed together meaning an ‘entirely new’ age. In terms of, like, humanity, it’s when all of our written history and technological revolutions have happened. It’s all happened since the last ice age ended those 12,000 years ago. In terms of my research—which is our research, really—it’s thinking about the impact of the vast warming of the planet after the last ice age and what that might be able to tell us about pre-Minoan civilizations in the Mediterranean.

NYT: Are you talking about global warming? I think of that being a lot more recent than 12,000 years ago.

PJ: Eh. It’s kinda relative. Pretty much anything is global warming after an ice age, you know? We do split the Holocene into three main eras of slight cooling and warming, but our sweet spot is around 7,500 years ago, when the Mediterranean especially was having to deal with rapid sea level rise and colder waters. Can I be honest with you, dude?

NYT: Of course. 

PJ: Everyone thought we were f****** crazy.

//

Later, back on the boat, Mitchell throws together some PB&Js for them to devour. The two of them eat quickly, tired from the dive, and don’t speak. Mitchell always uses a little too much peanut butter, and it sticks to the roof of Annabeth’s mouth, but that isn’t why she stays quiet.

There’s a lot between them besides the silence.

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” she eventually says, staring at the unassuming point of rock above the water. Just a rock that was really the cave that held the answer she’d spent her life searching for. Will they call it Chase Cave? Probably not, at this point. She’s glad. Something about that smarts—her greatest achievement marked by her father’s name.

“Is it?” Percy asks. His hair is wet, mussed up from when he yanked off his hood. There’s still a faint red oval around his eyes and nose.

She turns to face him more fully. They’ve never worn jewelry when they went in the water, and earlier she’d caught the faint tan line around the fourth finger of his left hand. He still wears it, or wore it recently enough to still have its mark.

Annabeth looks back to the rock. It’s much easier to stare at. “Almost,” she says.

//

NYT: Where do you go from here? Back to Berkley? Columbia? Are you staying in Greece?

PJ: Honestly… [Laughs] anywhere that offers us a tenure track. We’re open to suggestions! Our RateMyProfessor scores are through the roof, man. At this point, I’d even say yes to NYU.

//

“Berkley’s funding you?” Percy asks.

Annabeth nods, swallowing the mouthful of wine she’d been letting sit in her mouth. It’s easy to get lost in it—early signs of the sunset, Percy backlit by it all, wearing a loose blue shirt with the collar open so she can see his collarbones, her necklace nestled right in the middle. Missing him has been as frequent as breathing. She doesn’t quite know how to handle having him right across the table from her.

“Damn.” His mouth twists in that charming, trying-not-to-smile way. “What a coup.”

Annabeth snorts. “Right? I don’t know that she’ll ever talk to me again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Percy grabs an olive from their shared plate and pops it in his mouth. “She’s going to milk your relationship for every grant she applies for until the day she retires. Or dies.”

“Fuck.” Annabeth takes a larger sip of wine and closes her eyes. “You’re right. Goddamn it.”

“Hey, it’s been known to happen.” She opens her eyes again just in time to see the smile slip properly onto his face. “Good thing she made sure that you didn’t share any kind of name.”

Annabeth raises her wine. Percy grabs his water and follows suit, his tan-lined finger wrapping around the glass. “To Dr. Sofia Athena,” Annabeth says. “A name that has had no lasting impact on the study of archeology and the world’s shittiest mother.”

“Hear hear!” 

They clink their glasses and drink. 

The sun sinks below the ocean, pink orange red streaked across the sky, and below the table Percy rests the length of his leg against her own. 

//

Percy kept waking up with bruises on his wrist, his forearm, along the edge of his ribs. She never remembered grabbing him that tightly, hadn’t roused from sleep for a moment, didn’t even know that she was capable of gripping him like that.

She kept thinking about his life before she came into it, kept thinking about his childhood and his aversion to alcohol, and kept spending her mornings throwing up bile.

He held her hair back. He kissed the space behind her ear. He took it all, right up until the day she left.

//

They leave the restaurant as dusk slips into evening. Everything drips blue, and they could go back to the ramshackle house Annabeth’s been renting for three weeks and go to sleep. They should, really. Tomorrow all of the difficult stuff starts, the phone calls and the grant applications and fierce defense of their life’s work. 

But Percy takes a deep, sucking breath in, and his hands in his pockets. He lets it out again, a satisfied sigh, and jerks his head towards the horizon invitingly, and Annabeth already knows she’s going to agree to whatever he’s going to ask. 

“What?” She asks. 

“Want to go for a walk?” He asks. “It’s a beautiful night.” 

He’s right. She wants to. Still, she hesitates. 

“On the beach?”

“Why not? There’s a sandy bit down there.”

Annabeth can think of at least seven reasons that they really should not. Up against Percy’s relaxed posture and open expression, none of them put up a fight. 

“Alright,” she agrees. 

He doesn’t offer his hand, so she doesn’t take it, but when they start to walk towards the shore, their elbows brush with every other step. 

//

“Don’t be ridiculous, Annabeth.”

Annabeth’s head snaps back. “I’m not being ridiculous,” she says.

Her mother shoots her a look, her face half obscured by her office’s desktop monitor. “You’re turning one of Plato’s metaphors into a pipe dream of a discovery. It’s not like you.”

Annabeth takes a deep, controlled breath in. “I’m not basing the entirety of my research on Plato.”

“You’ve found another source that references Atlantis?”

“Not exactly,” Annabeth admits begrudgingly. “But—”

“Annabeth.”

“Just because they don’t call it the same thing that Plato did—”

“Lower your voice, please,” her mother says, turning her focus back to her computer. She starts to type, her face impassive.

Annabeth seethes. Quietly. “The study of Stone Age civilizations always requires careful historiographical reading into the Bronze and Iron ages. Their interpretation of history is a valid course of investigation for today’s scholarship.”

Her mother sighs and closes her eyes for a brief, devastating moment. “You’re a promising archeologist, Annabeth, but…”

Always a but. 

“...these caves, and the diving, well…” Her mother finally gives her undivided attention. “It’s not difficult to see where you got the idea.”

Annabeth digs the fingernails of her left hand into her palm and tries her best to keep the tears at bay. “I’m not plagiarizing research ideas.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“This research project just happened to pop up right as you started seeing a scuba diver? That’s a sheer coincidence?”

“He’s not a—”

“Oh, he wears an anklet.”

“He’s a marine archeologist! That’s literally part of your department.”

“They’ve tacked on an adjective before the word ‘archeologist.’ Is that supposed to—”

Annabeth slams her binder down on her mother’s desk, a savage satisfaction building in her chest at finally being the one who gets to interrupt. “I’m not debating this with you,” she says, her voice filled with finality. “My research has to do with Pre-Minoan Thera and early Bronze Age art and documentation. Read it or don’t. If you don’t fund me, someone else will.”

Her mother rises from her seat in one graceful movement, her eyes dark and swirling storm clouds. Annabeth realizes that they’re the same height; she’d never noticed that before.

“Who approached you?” Her mother asks. “USC? BU?”

Annabeth lets the smile that stretches across her face be as bitter as it wants to be. “I’m a Chase,” she says. She knows it’s a twist of the knife. “Who wouldn’t fund me?”

//

The sand is cold between her toes. The wind off the water is warm and makes Percy’s shirt flap around and hug the contours of his torso for brief, devastating moments. Annabeth focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and not on the way this whole night has felt like a date.

“I kind of want to get in,” Percy says. 

“What?”

“The water,” he clarifies. “I want to get in. Don’t you?” 

Annabeth gapes at him. It’s only been three months. He went in with her earlier, even followed her into a cave, but this is different. This is a walk along the beach with their shoes in their hands and stupid small talk that hasn’t been getting at any of the things they should probably be working through.

Percy drops his flip-flops. He only has to undo one more button to be able to pull his shirt off over his head. Annabeth keeps looking—obviously—as he shucks off his pants and adds them to the pile, too. 

There are little slices of pizza decorating his boxers. 

There’s a tiny, innocuous breath of hesitation. Is he thinking about stripping all the way down? Is he balking now that he’s facing the might of the ocean? 

In the end, he goes towards the water confidently, his boxers still on, and calls back once his ankles are submerged. “You coming?”

Annabeth slips the straps of her dress over her shoulders and lets it fall to the sand, kicking it over to join Percy’s pile of clothes. After her own moment of hesitation, she slips the chain around her neck off and wraps it around her hand, clutching the bulk of it tight in her palm. She won’t leave it on the beach, but she won’t lose it to the ocean, either. 

By the time she’s up to her calves, Percy’s already dunked himself under and come back up again, hair slicked back and water dripping down his chest. He’s got a slight t-shirt tan she hadn’t noticed before.

“How far do you want to go out?” She asks him.

“We’ll freeze if we stay like this,” he says, goosebumps all along his arms with his wet torso exposed to the breeze. A tiny wave crashes right behind him and sends him staggering a foot or so. “Past the break?”

The wave hits her next, soaking through her bra and splashing salt up onto her cheeks. “Sure.”

They wade out together and dive through the next wave in perfect unison. When she comes back up, brushing the water out of her eyes, all that’s left of it are bubbles bursting against her skin. The water settles around her shoulders; when she looks over, Percy’s eyes are lined up perfectly with hers. Bending his knees, probably. Staying under the water to stay warm, or stay on her level, or some mixture of the two. 

“Warmer than I thought,” Annabeth admits.

Percy smiles. She wishes the moon would rise, so she could see the emerald cut of his eyes better. “That’s almost like saying I was right.”

“Almost,” she agrees, smiling right back. 

“We probably could’ve stripped all the way down. When in Rome, and all that.”

“We’re not on Naxos.” She shudders. “Never again.”

That makes him laugh, finally. “Come on, it was a cultural exchange!”

“A-bah-bah,” Annabeth tuts, raising a finger. “It’s one of the sacred three.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Ice water, air conditioning, and we don’t have to look at wrinkly old dudes naked. U-S-A, U-S-A.”

“And don’t forget it.”

“How could I?” He replies softly. 

Annabeth resists the urge to curse. There goes their lighthearted small talk. 

She dreams of Naxos. Not of the famous nude beaches or Percy laughing at her horrified expressions, but of the crisp white sheets of their hotel room and the faint red imprints of her teeth against the perfect bronze of his tan. She dreams of the purest conversations they’ve ever had, the ones they had crammed together on their Juliet balcony and the ones that passed with skin pressed close and no words spoken at all. 

The dreams are always exact mirrors of memory, flawless from start to finish, loving and being loved. She never wakes up before an orgasm or before the sun had finally risen that first morning and lit up the muscles of Percy’s back like a goddamn Yuriy Petrenko painting. It’s complete contentment, morning breath and a sort of pulled hamstring halfway through, no detail lost.

But she always wakes up, and Percy’s not there, and reality feels like a nightmare.

“You’re not wearing your ring,” Percy breathes out.

“Neither are you.”

“I took it off to dive.” His head tilts, just slightly, and Annabeth’s eyes slide down his neck to her necklace. She catches the smallest glint of metal through the water and clenches her fist around her own ring, so tightly that the chain digs into the meat of her hand. 

“So did I,” she says.

His mouth quirks up. “Okay.”. 

“San Diego,” she starts, weirdly confident from the wine or the quiet or Percy being right in front of her again. “Did you get an—”

“I’m still on sabbatical. Staying with Tyson.” A wave laps up and covers his chin for a second. “He says hi, by the way.”

“He’s good?”

“Mhm. Trying to teach me pottery.”

Annabeth grins. “Are you any good?”

“Obviously not. It’s better than, like, baby goat yoga with Grover.”

“So that’s why you’re not in Portland.”

“Uh, that and the human baby they’re very enthusiastically trying to create. Barf.”

She splashes him in the face. “Shut up. What? Since when?”

He spits the water that got into his mouth out in a beautiful arch. “I can’t believe he told me before you! Like, a few months now. I think they maybe kept it hush-hush because…”

The waves crash against the sand. Annabeth knows what he was going to say. She can hear it in the squint of his eyelids, the exact angle tilt of his eyebrows. It’s kind of comforting—she still knows how. 

“That’s amazing,” she says, her voice quiet. “He’s going to be such a good dad.”

A swell of water builds towards them, and their toes leave the sand in the same moment, the tiniest push to keep their chins above the surface. 

“He accidentally synced our Google calendars,” Percy admits after a second. There’s a dangerous kind of glint in his eye, the one that Annabeth has always been a little bit in love with. “They, like, scheduled it.”

Annabeth gasps. “No.”

He nods, dunking half of his face in the process. “I know so much about Juni’s ovulation cycle that I can’t unlearn—”

“Percy!” Annabeth objects, as though she’s not laughing through it. “That’s such a violation of their privacy—”

“It’s not like I wanted to know it!” He laughs right back. “Grover apologized, like, six times. Juni called to ask if we ever did any fertility rituals. I did not need that boundary broken.”

Annabeth covers her face with one hand and ducks herself under the water. The muted sounds, the sting of the salt, the knowledge that she could reach out and touch him—she breaks the surface again. “Why would we have done a fertility ritual? We don’t have kids!”

“I think maybe she thought we’d done one to prevent it. Anti-fa, right?”

“I know you know that’s not what that is.”

His straight face breaks. “You thought it was funny, though.”

“No comment.” 

“Hey, don’t be mad. I told her our sexytime is exclusively based on passion. No scheduling involved.”

Annabeth wrinkles her nose. “A good excel spreadsheet is kind of hot, though.”

“Oh my god.”

“Like, a color-coded one.” She rolls back her eyes and moans. “With tabs.” 

It’s so easy to tease him, so natural to fall back into their rhythm, to turn off the filter in her brain and let the conversation go wherever it’s going to. It’s so easy to forget why they were half a world away from each other. 

He splashes her this time, only she’s already laughing, eyes closed and ready for it. She hears his laughter join hers before she sees it, low and infectious. 

Annabeth could stay here forever, high on her life’s mission accomplished and Percy right in front of her, both of their heads above the water, both of them laughing. She would make this second of air stretch on forever, only then she wouldn’t get what comes next.

She opens her eyes against the sting of the salt and sees him, the jut of his collarbone above the foam, his hair curling a little bit around his ears where it’s beginning to dry. She could look at him forever, watch as the crinkles around his eyes go soft and fade, as his mouth settles from a grin into something smoother, more familiar.

“Wanna kiss you,” he mumbles. The waves push him closer, or he moves closer, or Annabeth does.

“I thought we based our sexytime exclusively on passion,” Annabeth responds.

The heat of Percy’s torso presses up against hers. “Don’t be a dick,” he whispers.

Percy’s mouth slides hot against hers, rough-soft in the very particular way he always is, and waves lap at their shoulders and Annabeth thinks something about baptism and then thinks about nothing at all for as long as she’s able.

//

“Sometimes I think we never got out,” she whispers to him one night. 

They’re wrapped around each other in the blaring light from both of their nightstands. It’s some time past three in the morning.

“Like, this is all a dream?” He asks.

“No.” She presses her nose against his chest, breathes him in. “I just still feel it. I started down there and it never stopped.”

She feels the breath shudder out of him. “Yeah,” he agrees.

..

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

I Don't Remember

Hi, it's been 3 years since I've posted lol.

Warnings: head injury, dying mention, loss of consciousness, abandoned, drugged, feeding tube, hospital setting, memory issues

~~

Sometimes, the villain wondered if he was really the villain of this story. Or was that a made-up concept to protect the real villains.

How could he be the villain when he were the victim?

Villain gasped as he lay across the bench in the park, fingers grabbing onto nothing. His head throbbed, and his vision went in and out of focus as he watched the stars in the sky.

Why did it have to be so beautiful? For such an ugly world, why did it have to be so beautiful?

Tears streamed down Villain's face. Why did he have to be so alone and so cold? Why couldn't he have someone to go to?

Blood trickled down Villain's face, from the gash in his forehead and from his broken nose. He struggled to breathe. Every breath made him dizzy.

He hurt so much, but he couldn't tell if it was from his body or his heart.

He knew that Hero had someone to go to after he beat Villain into a senseless pulp about thirty minutes ago. He knew that he would've been caressed and taken care of.

More tears trickled down Villain's face, but he wasn't as aware of them. He was slowly losing consciousness as the world swirled and numbed around him. Maybe it was from blood loss, maybe from a concussion, or maybe just pure exhaustion.

Prior to being beaten up, Villain hadn't slept for about 24 hours trying to escape Hero's pursuit. He ran, desperately trying to evade capture. Maybe capture would've been better than this. Maybe in capture, he would've been warm...

Villain felt himself being pulled under. Maybe he would die. Maybe he would never wake up again.

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

Villain struggled to open his eyes.

Bright lights blinded him.

He felt no other sensation.

Blackness took over again.

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

"... restrain him."

"We need law enforcement to do that."

"We can justifiably sedate him, right?"

Villain was hardly aware of what was going on, but he was moving. Moving. Villain struggled to grasp the concept. What was going on? Where was he?

He couldn't move and everything hurt. Bad.

Villain let out a small sob and the voices stopped.

"He's awake."

"We are 4 minutes away from the hospital, and he's extremely out of it. Let's just wait until then and let law enforcement deal with it."

Law enforcement? Like heros? Villain thrashed and started to panic.

"Don't!" He screamed. Hands grabbed his.

"Shh, shh. Don't hurt yourself."

Villain stopped, immediately exhausted. He opened his eyes and made out an unrecognizable face.

"Do you know where you are, Villain?" The person asked. Male. Big. Strong.

"No," Villain responded.

"You are in an ambulance. You're getting help."

"Okay," Villain whispered and fell limply against the surface he was on. He was confused but accepted it.

About 30 seconds later, he was out again.

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

The next time Villain woke, he knew instantly that something was wrong but he couldn't fathom it.

He felt suspended in the air. His arms were restrained above his head, and his ankles were tied to the sides of a bed. He felt no pain.

He glanced around, recognizing a hospital. His eyes drifted to his body. His ribs were wrapped in bandages, and his lower leg had a cast on it.

Broken?

Villain didn't know. He didn't remember what happened or how he got there.

His eyes flicked to his suspended arms. An IV stuck in his right elbow.

"Drugs?" Villain whispered, his tongue thick and barely movable.

"Hey."

Villain jumped and glanced to his other side. A nurse stood there, shaking.

Villain didn't reply.

"I have some food."

Villain glanced down at the plate she was holding. Mashed potatoes and a green substance.

"I'm going to feed you."

"Oh," Villain murmured.

"Then I'm going to give you your next dose."

"Of?" Villain weakly asked.

"I-I have been ordered to keep you moderately sedated and on pain killers," the nurse replied and spooned Villain a bite. Villain took it, but he felt too weak and woozy to swallow.

"You need to swallow."

Villain tried, but couldn't and started to cough. The nurse hesitantly rubbed Villain's throat and he eventually swallowed.

"I'll be back," she said and ran out of the room.

Villain was exhausted, barely awake at this point. The room morphed and spun. After what seemed like ages, the nurse came back with a man.

"He can't swallow?" The man asked.

"He's very, very weak and probably too drugged up to swallow," the nurse replied

"We can insert a feeding tube, but I don't want him awake for that. He hasn't eaten in two days. He needs nutrients. Or we can give him liquid nutrients. I'm going to consult my colleagues."

"Okay, what should I do now?" The nurse asked.

"Give him his painkillers and sedatives. He's too awake right now if we aren't going to feed him."

The nurse nodded and started to prep the sedative. Villain didn't feel awake. He was barely keeping his eyes open.

What even happened?

Before he knew it, Villain's thoughts left his head, and unconscious took hold.

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

"... still unconscious..."

"He's waking..."

"...be out of it... back later."

Voices filtered through Villain's extremely drugged mind. He slowly peeled his eyes open and immediately felt like him was falling...

He jerked.

He was entrapped. He felt his ankles tied aggressively to the bed, and his arms were suspended in the air. He looked across his body. His ribs were bandaged and his leg was in a cast.

"Hey."

Villain's eyes felt thick as they shifted to his side. It was a girl, a nurse.

"Are you with me?" She asked.

Villain just stared at her, trying to absorbed her features.

"You've been asleep for a while. How do you feel?"

Villain couldn't bring himself to reply. He didn't even know what he would've said.

"Good or bad?" The nurse pressed.

"Bad," Villain forced himself to rasp. He felt his eyes drooping again. Soon, he'd pass out again, and he knew it.

"How many days has he been like this?" Another spoke spoke, oddly recognizable, but Villain felt as if he was imagining that detail. He was really high on drugs anyways.

"About five," the nurse replied as Villain drifted into unconsciousness once more.

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

The next time Villain was awake, he felt more with it, but he didn't remember what he was comparing it to.

"Oh my gosh Villain!"

Villain looked at the man running into the room.

Hero.

"Oh my. Who did this Villain?"

Villain stared at him for a while before saying,

"I don't remember."

[frizzle-mcshizzle]

[crawling towards you, I am translucent pale and my lips are cracked. You feel pity. It’s as though I’ve crawled through the desert just to find you. I reach out]

Dex Dizznee… I need headcanons… [coUGh]… please

this literally the funniest ask ive ever gotten this was amazing to wake up to

you also have amazing timing i have been brain rotting about Stinex (or as im calling it now Copper Mares) for the past two days so hes very much on my mind rn

he's self taught ambidextrous, and intentionally uses it as a pun with his name

he has curly hair and a ton of freckles

while his dad has five older siblings he only has three cousins that are around his age on that side and his family doesn't have a good relationship with his uncle so he doesn't see two of them at all

he has been helping Kesler in Slurps and burps since he was 8, and when he was a baby the first thing that made him laugh was the burping doors

the Dizzee's and Ruewens have weekly movie nights where they will all (including the adults and bodyguards) take turns choosing the movie

he has a collection of human technology that his mom got him that he consistently uses to make better weapons or things that can help around the house

his entire family has panic-switches and he has a master panic switch ring that will let him now whos in trouble where they are located with the projectable screen

he ends up telling Rex he will be talantless after talking to his parents about it, instead of that putting strain on their relationship it made Rex and Dex closer as he did everything he could to make things that would give talentless some kind of ability

he made Livvy a light projection tool so she doesn't have to hold Candles while doing her job

Dex and Stina were friends when they where very little but when the Heks realized that distancing themselves from the Dizznee's would increase their social status they quickly cut them off

when he was growing up he only saw Edaline and Grady during their quarterly exiler refills at slurps and burps, Juline invited them over for dinner more than once but they couldn't handle being around children for that long so they never came.

after he was hit by the melder he couldn't go home for two weeks he was constantly having full body spasms and had constant migraines, the triplets where so worried about him that they took turns visiting and being unnaturally quiet so they could see him

he's terrified of fire but tries not to show it, but when she's around it he can't help but stare at it like it's going to jump out and attack him. hes afraid of Marella after she maifested but doesn't want to be because he know she's wont hurt him. but when he sees her control fire all he can think about is getting burned by brant

when they where kiddnapped he wasn't constantly sedated like Sophie was and remembers much more than she does, he remembers her screams and them forcing sedatives down her throat, he rarely talks about it because no one asks and if he mentions it in front of his parents they get these galzed over looks on their faces and Juline's hands start to ice over, so he stops because hes already put then through enough

he has nightmares that make him wake up screaming, sometimes Lovise will the only one to hear him because he stops before the rest of his family wakes up. she will sit with him and teach him calming techniques that Goblins soliders use, other times his parents would wake up and sit with him for minutes yo hours, sometimes in silence sometimes he would cry, it happens at least once a week, sometimes more.

he has a stuffed griffon Ewlin got him while he was recovering called called feathersworth, he keeps it under his pillow whenever he's sleeping and

sometimes he will stay up into the odd hours of the morning just to avoid going to sleep because he doesn't want to have nightmares, Lovise will have to physically pull him to his bedroom because hes been awake for more than 24 hours and is still fighting sleep

he missed his mom and dad more than anything while he was with the black swan desperately wanting to talk to them. when he found out that Juline was squall it took him forever to forgive her, it put a lot of strain on their relationship and while Juline did her best to make it up to him it, it was just something he had to forgive her for because nothing can make up for that.

he is one of the only people that Tinker will have actual conversations with, and he knows almost as much about her as wraith does, he likes working with her more than lady Iskra because she actually lets him use his unorthodox methods of making things instead of forcing him to make things the traditional way

his extended family has get togethers once a year, not all of Kesler's siblings attend every year but he knows his grandparents very well and spends a lot of time with them

less a headcannon but i think he should lose his arm, his names means righthanded and i think it would be funny if he just didn't have a right hand anymore also because angst

is that enough headcannons, are you alive now, this made me want to write dex's pov when he was kidnapped so...

[cinematics123]

Spec Fic

Well... I had been working on a speculation time fic for 6B for Buck/Eddie... and... well seeing the 6B preview this morning made it more important to get it out into the world (for manifesting purposes).

So, it's not done, but I guess we can call it a Whump-in-Progress.

“Dad’s awake!”

The shout sounded like Chris. The voice brought Eddie up out of the deep, out of his black sleep. For a moment the world brightened.  Eddie stirred, groaned, and opened his eyes.

“Dad!” Chris shouted again and Eddie could feel his son’s body land on top of him. He was still a kid, but he was growing too fast. The weight of him felt strange – too big for the small boy Chris always was in Eddie’s mind. Eddie winced performatively and then laughed.

“Hey, Bud. I’m here.” Eddie rasped. The blurry room began to come into focus, filled with too bright lights, too white walls, and several looming human shapes standing over him. Hospital. Eddie tried to remember. There had been a storm when they were out. He must have been hurt at work. Eddie’s arm moved like he was stuck in molasses, but he was able to bring it up to his son’s head. “I’m still here, Chris. I’ll always be here.”

Bobby’s face came into focus. He had a beaming face, full of relief, as he looked down at Eddie and Christopher. But looking up at Bobby’s face made Eddie somehow aware that something was still missing. There was something gnawing at the edge of his perception. Something was still wrong. Eddie wiggled his toes and fingers, but he only felt the dulled aching of the IV in his arm. “Hey Cap. Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Diaz. You gave us a bit of a scare, but it looks like you’re on the mend.”

“Bobby, did I have surgery?”

“No, I don’t think so. They did have you in an arm brace at first, but the x-rays showed your arm was fine. You had a pretty serious arrythmia though, Eddie. They’ve had you out for about 24 hours and they’ll probably keep you a bit longer for observation.”

“Arrythmia from the storm?” Eddie narrowed his eyes and blinked. Maybe it was just a symptom from whatever work they had done to get his heart working, but it felt like there was a hole inside him. There was an absence, an emptiness, where something used to be. There were threads of him that once connected him to something; and they were cut.  “We were up on the engine tower when we got hit.”

“That’s correct. Lightning strike. You fell off the ladder and landed on your arm. Hen thought you might have broken it, but it looked good. Probably got a really bad sprain or a bone bruise, but you’ll be fine. You went into a pretty severe cardiac arrythmia, but Hen got you under control. You had a few more cardiac issues here in the hospital with your stent and they put you under, but they think you’ll be good. We’re glad you made it through.”

Eddie searched himself. There was something else, some feeling of being hollowed out – a feeling that a part of him was gone, ripped away from him, destroyed. Eddie looked around the room and swallowed hard.

“Bobby, where’s Buck?”

*************         

“How is he?”

Maddie turned to see Eddie standing quietly in the doorway. Still in his own paper hospital gown, Eddie leaned against the threshold. Maddie couldn’t tell if it was for strength, for balance, or just to feel something.

“Eddie!” Maddie breathed, getting up from her chair and rushing over to hug him. “It’s so good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” She hugged him tight, brushing her face against his shoulder.

But Eddie had seen her eyes. They were red and wet from crying. Maddie clung to Eddie for moment. Slowly Eddie realized Maddie must be wiping the tears away, trying to be subtle. But with Maddie hugging him, there was nothing in Eddie’s field of view except the man in the bed: the elephant in the room. Eddie changed the subject.

“So, when did “Aunt Maddie” happen?” Maddie pulled back, eyes still glassy and red, but no moisture on her cheeks.

“Chris was so cute. Carla brought him and your aunt here. Chris… well, Chris helped all of us keep it together. He said you’d been through worse. And I told him that both you and Buck have had some bad scrapes, but you both came through alright. And you both came back to him. And, so I guess I’m Aunt Maddie, for now.”

“For now?”

“Chris wanted to be in a room with both of you. He thought if you were both together, you would both wake up faster. He said Buck’s snores wake you up.”

Eddie chuckled a bit to himself. The thought of early mornings with Buck on his couch brought a smile back to his face.

“They have, on occasion, woken me up.”

Maddie put a steadying hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We took him back and forth between your rooms for a bit early on. But it was pretty clear that you would probably wake up. And Buck…. We thought it might be best that Chris wasn’t in Buck’s room whenever they brought the news in. So, after a while, we stopped bringing Chris to Buck’s room…”

“What news about Buck?”

“Buck’s heart seems to be doing fine now. But he’s had an EEG that didn’t show a lot of brain activity. I joked that Buck hasn’t always shown the most brain activity, but he’s always been fine. I don’t anyone thought it was that funny. If I’m being honest I didn’t think it was too funny either.”

“Do they know what might have…?”

“When they got to Buck, his heart was already stopped. They don’t know for how long. Bobby said that they are not even sure how many times he was struck while he was up there. But they think his heart wasn’t pumping for some time, so no blood was getting to his brain.”

“So, no one knows how long he was hypoxic for?”

“Hen, bless her, somehow got his heart working again. Somehow. Chim said it was like a miracle. Seriously, she must be the best medic in the entire LAFD. But it seems like she bought him this chance. So, for now, his heart is beating, but the doctors said it’s unclear if there was brain damage or how long his brain was without oxygen-”

“Because they were busy working on me…” “No, Eddie. Buck was 25 feet up a metal ladder during a lightning storm. It was reckless, Eddie. He knew what he was doing was dangerous, he knew the risks, and he did it anyway. Both you and Buck were struck. Do you think Bobby wanted to send someone up again after that? Do you think he wanted to lose one more of you?”

Eddie knew it wasn’t really a question. He wondered who had gotten Buck down. Was it Chim? Was that the awful choice that had Maddie crying? That she could have lost her brother and husband the same day? Or worse, was she doing the math and wondering what the chance were that someday Chim would be here in this same bed? She knew how risky the job was, she knew Chim had been injured even off the job with the rebar and the stabbing.

Eddie had to change the topic, and he had to change it fast. “Did Connor and Kameron bother to see him?”

“Oh, you mean the couple that waltzed in and told me that if my brother dies then they’ll consider naming the son he is giving them “Evan” after him? The couple I never met before. That Buck never told me he was donating for? Yes, well they came in here and made Buck’s injury all about them.”

“Your brother did a wonderful thing for them-“

“He’s been giving himself away to people who don’t deserve him his whole life. And now that he’s here and they want to make his death about them too.”

“You don’t think he’s going to make it.”

“It's not that, Eddie. It's.. it's... I’ve seen this back when I worked in the E.R. The body survived somehow, but often their brain never recovered. All that’s left is the lingering before the brain activity goes and the body follows. Sometimes it would be weeks before they would let go.”

“Maddie, I can’t lose him.”

“I can’t lose him either, Eddie. He’s my brother. But you already know that sometimes we lose people that we can’t stand to lose. My parents were never the same after losing Daniel. There are some losses we don’t come back from. Not really.”

They both stared at the bed, the white sheets, the mostly white gown, the pale man lying on it. Eddie blinked and could feel the emptiness growing within himself.

“Can I have a moment with him?”

**********

Eddie stood over Buck’s bed, staring at this motionless body that wasn’t quite his Buck. Even when Buck slept there was movement, some tossing, his deep and heavy breathing. Now he lay motionless as a machine forced air in and out of his lungs. There was a long, forking burn mark running in a line from Buck’s head, across his face, and down his neck to his paper hospital gown. It was thin but tree-like, and seemed like it started to fork into a large fan where Buck’s neck joined his chest. The rest was hidden by the gown.

The hole inside Eddie stirred. It felt like the smile on Buck’s face. It felt like the laugh lines that gathered so often around his blue eyes. It felt like every mile of road between Los Angeles and Hershey, Pennsylvania. It smelt like pasta dinners with grocery store wine. The hole felt like the little touches they’d shared – the fist bumps, the shoulder nudges, the light elbowing in the ribs. But it also felt like touches Eddie has never had with Buck. Hugs that they let go on too long. Gentle kisses he had wanted, but never quite had the courage for. Rough passions he had dreamed of with Buck, but barely had the courage to even acknowledge to himself.

Tomorrow isn’t promised. How many times had he heard those works? How many times had he said them? He knew it firsthand with Shannon and with the soldiers he saved. But he thought he had time with Buck. Buck was his constant, his partner, his rock. Buck was there, Buck was the only one there, when the world had closed in on him. Buck was the one that got him out. Buck had to be ok.

“Please.” Eddie whispered into Evan Buckley’s body. “Please wake up. I can’t do this without you. I need you. I need you to keep fighting and I need you to wake up. I want you, Evan, and I – all I want is you. Please, Buck, please. Come back to me.”

It had been years now since they had gone on the call for the older couple – the one where the car hit one husband and the other passed moments later. Buck had told Eddie the one had said “You don’t find love; you make it.” Eddie knew it had meant something more to Buck – that Buck was always looking for it. Eddie touched Buck’s cheek with his hand and finally let the tears roll down his face.

That man was only half right, he thought. I found it when I found you. I found it when you found me. I found the person I could make a future with.

Eddie’s chest tightened like it was trying to press in on the void gnawing away in his chest. Suddenly, the light in the room seemed too bright. It felt like the room was moving. No, it was spinning. No. It was tilting. Eddie barely felt the metal rail of Buck’s hospital bed as his head fell on it. He barely felt the floor as he sprawled out against it. After that, everything was dark. Only the gnawing, stretching feeling of emptiness and absence remained. And Eddie let it take him.

**********

Eddie sat across from Bobby, Buck’s body stretched out between them. The slow rhythmic beeps of Buck’s monitor ticked away the moments. Bobby looked worryingly at Eddie. Eddie wasn’t sure the last time he had slept. He wasn’t sure when Bobby arrived either.

“Eddie, we should probably have Chim or Hen take you home.”

“I’m not leaving him.” Eddie shot back, trying to shut this line of converstion down before it began.

“Eddie, Christopher needs his dad. You can come back in the morning. I will stay here with Buck.”

“Chris has Carla at home, and he would want me here with Buck.”

“Eddie…” Bobby started. Eddie’s glare withered any hope in Bobby that he might take the evening off. Or go home to shower.

“You should see if they have somewhere for you to shower. I’ll see if they can arrange a cot for you, or we’ll set you up on the couch.”

“Thank you, Bobby,” Eddie responded.

“Just know, that I’m sure Buck's glad that you are here with him.”

“I never got to tell him. And I don’t think it counts if he can’t hear me.”

Bobby stopped then sat up. “Tell him, Eddie. I don’t know if he can hear you, but you should tell him to his face. But either way, he will find his way back to you.”

Eddie’s face fell. He stood up over Buck’s hospital bed and took Buck’s hand into his own. Staring down at Buck’s unmoving face, tears began to roll down Eddie’s own.

“What do you need to tell him, Eddie? What would you have to say that he doesn’t already know? He knows Eddie.”

“He doesn’t. I – I never got to tell him that I love him. That… I love him, Bobby. I love him. Buck, you can’t die on me. You can’t. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. Buck, come back to me. I love you!” Eddie shouted into Buck’s unmoving face.

“Eddie…” Bobby warned.  Eddie turned around wiping tears from his face, making a strangled noise in his throat but dropped the words as he saw Maddie and an older woman standing at the door. Eddie placed Buck’s hand softly and gently back by his side and turned his face away from Maddie to wipe away the tears on his face. Maddie closed the distance between herself and Eddie and wrapped him in a hug.

“He made a good choice. The best choice.” Maddie said, tearing up. She put a comforting hand to Eddie’s cheek.

“Who did? Did…what?”

“Buck. When he registered his power of attorney with the Fire Commissioner. Eddie, this... this is our mom, Margaret. She made it down here to see Buck and we had to go over to the Commissioner’s office to unseal Buck’s will. It turns out his power of attorney is –“

“Eddie.” Bobby interrupted.

“How…? Bobby, how do you know that?” Maddie asked.

“I’m his captain, and I was the witness when he filed his power of attorney with the Fire Commissioner.”

“You knew…? When?” Eddie sputtered, flustered. How could Buck have not told him? How could Bobby?

Bobby sighed. “Buck changed his power of attorney when he came back to the station after the lawsuit. He… thought it meant that a future lawsuit wouldn’t be able to stop him from talking to you and Chris or… from bailing you out of jail for street fighting.” Bobby surveyed the faces around him and Buck lying down in the hospital bed. “That boy turned down a $5 million dollar wrongful termination payment and early retirement to come back and work at the 118. Trust me, he will wake up. And he will be coming back to you, Eddie.”

Eddie could only stare as Bobby walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Maddie gently rubbed his shoulder and glanced over to her mother.

“Eddie, if it’s ok with you, I think my mom also has some things to say to Evan. She might want some time with him to-”

“He can stay, Maddie. I think I want him to stay.” The older woman interjected.

Eddie searched her face but understood nothing.

**********

Eddie was back in his chair next to Buck’s bed.  Margaret, Buck’s mother, was sitting in Bobby’s chair across from him, her son’s motionless body in between them. Margaret clutched Buck’s hand, but it was Eddie she fixed her eyes on. Eddie was the one that still had life in him, no matter what the Buck’s monitor’s beeps said.

“Maddie said that Buck met you at work?” It wasn’t quite breaking the ice, but perhaps Margaret was trying to chip the ice a bit. Eddie stared at her. Buck had said much more about his parents, none of it good. None of it was really his to rehash with her either. He had only the hints of what Buck and Maddie had been through, and the saga of Buck finding out about his brother Daniel.

“We did.”

Margaret smiled expectantly at Eddie, but he had nothing else to tell her.

“Have you and Buck been together for a long time…? He never told us that he… well… that he… A parent has some idea, of course, but he never talked to me about… ”

“Mrs. Buckley, Buck and I are very close, but we are not together. There’s nothing that’s happened between your son and I that Maddie couldn’t tell you.”

“Please, call me Margaret. And, well, Maddie didn’t know that you were Buck’s power of attorney.” Margaret countered, sweetly.

“I didn’t know that either, Mrs. Buckley.” The moment stretched out between them. Margaret looked back down at Buck’s hand.

“If you had a child then –“

“I do have a child, Mrs. Buckley.” Eddie interrupted.

“If you ever lost a child then, you would know what losing a child does to a parent. If you lost your child, Eddie, imagine what it would do to you.”

Eddie paused.

“I once thought I lost Christopher – during the L.A. tsunami. It was only for a moment, but.. you’re right. It would have destroyed me. Buck was the one that saved him; he jumped into a tsunami full of cars and debris and electric wires to save my son.”

Margaret smiled sadly, “I never heard that story. He’s always been reckless, but I’m glad that some good has come out of it.”

“Buck is a life saver. He is a hero. He’s saved hundreds of people. Countless people. And… I wish you could see how hard he takes the ones he can’t save. Buck… Buck puts all of himself into saving others.”

Margaret looked down at her son.

“Even if he couldn’t save Daniel, Evan has spent his whole live saying people. He is a good person, Mrs. Buckley.”

“You don’t know a thing about Daniel.” Margaret snapped.

“Neither does Buck.” Eddie countered. “I love Buck, Mrs. Buckley. And my son loves him too. And Maddie and Chim and Jee love him. And maybe that’s not enough for him. But I will give him all the love I can.” Eddie got up and walked to the door. Not to walk out, but to open it to let Margaret out. She hadn’t shown Buck the love he needed in life, and … in whatever Buck was in now, Eddie didn’t need her hovering over Buck’s bed. Margaret looked up meekly at Eddie, but never let go of Buck’s hand.

“It was my fault. And it has ruined all of my kids’ lives.”

“I thought Daniel died of Leukemia…?”

“But it was in my genes. The Leukemia runs in my family. My brother, Arthur, was… he… he passed when I was a girl. Evan’s middle name is Arthur after him. I thought maybe the connection was a good sign for Daniel after we had Evan. I… tried. I tried for my son. And if you had known Daniel, you’d see how much Buck is just as reckless, just as messy as Daniel ever was. How could I look him in the face and not see my Daniel?! He was the spitting image of him. How could I push one out of the way? And… I lost both. I’ve lost both of them.”

Margaret looked down at the body laid out in front of her. She kissed Buck on the forehead and walked to the door Eddie still held open. Eddie looked her full in the face and stopped her, hand on Margaret’s arm.

“Buck has been there for me more times than I can remember. One thing that has stuck with me is he told me that maybe I’d been feeling hurt for so long that I didn’t remember what it felt like to be healed. He was right and he got me through it. I don’t think Buck would ever want you to forget Daniel. But Buck is still here. And I’m not giving up on him. You don’t have to give up on him either.”

Margaret’s eyes welled with tears, and she pulled her hands back from Eddie. Eddie closed the door behind her as she walked out into the hallway. He followed her briefly with his eyes, noting her walking down towards the reception, towards the exit. Eddie sighed heavily and plodded back to Buck’s bed. He took Buck’s hand and kissed it and sat down at his bedside.

“Is she finally gone?” A gravelly voice came from the body next to Eddie. “Buck…? Buck!” Eddie was on him, grabbing at the paper hospital gown, tearing it around the shoulders. Crystal blue eyes opened and twinkled weakly at him.

“How long have I…?” Buck croaked quietly.

“Evan, you’re alive. God you’re alive. I .. 9? No, 10 days, Buck. You scared the hell out of me. Oh, my God, Buck. Buck.” Eddie dissolved into tears, hugging Buck. Buck arms moved lightly and slowly, still without the strength that Eddie was so familiar with. “Buck, I need to get the doctor and – “

“Eddie. Please. Just hug me. The doctors can wait.” Eddie kissed Buck on the cheek and held him and held him and held him until the nurses found them.

[losingitinjersey]

Happy due date, Aug! 

As you can see from the pictures, Erp and Aug met each other for the first time at the hospital!  My mom brought Erp over with her (you can tell she was dressed by her with the huge bow and fancy shoes) and it was SO GREAT to see my girl again!!  I’ve never had this much time away from her and I couldn’t get enough of her hugs and cuddles.  She was curious but cautious of her sister but continued to share her toys and books with her!  Although, every time Aug cried, Erp would shrink into herself and start crying as well, crawling into my arms for comfort.  My heart!  

On Friday at noon, 53 hours of being in the hospital and sitting in that increasingly uncomfortable bed, we were all packed up, dressed and ready to be discharged only to learn that Aug didn’t pass her hearing test on her left ear.  We were told we had to stay for four more hours for her to retake the test.  Defeated, disappointed and worried, we tucked in, napped and waited out those hours only to have her not pass a third time.  The hospital pediatrician wasn’t worried and said we’d just need to follow up with an audiologist in 4 to 6 weeks to see what’s going on.  By 6 p.m. that night, 59 hours in total at the hospital, we were finally on our way back home.  

We’ve now had over 24 hours at home with all five of us (my mom, Kevin, Erp, Aug and myself) and, I gotta say, I’m SO happy to be out of the hospital and adjusting to life at home.  

The first night at home (Friday the 13th) was rough.  I was emotionally and physically exhausted, desperate to create and cling to a routine that made sense.  But since Aug needs to feed every three hours (from the start of the feeding, and each feeding takes at least 30 minutes), there’s not much time in-between each session.  Kevin asked me if we could supplement with formula to give myself time to rest and not being responsible for each feeding but I refused.  Sure, my milk hasn’t come in yet but I wanted to do it all myself and work hard at feeding and getting my supply going through all the feedings.  I got maybe two hours sleep the first night.  

On Saturday morning, Kevin, Aug and I drove the hour and a half to our pediatrician in Norfolk to have her check out the babe.  She was very concerned about her weight loss and told us we need to immediately start supplementing with formula.  Like, had to do a bottle right there in the office in front of her and to give her 2oz of formula every three hours on top of breastfeeding. We have a follow-up appointment on Monday and Wednesday for weight-checks.  While I was disappointed to hear my girl, who was already a better at breastfeeding than Erp, wasn’t getting enough food.  Since this information was told to me by the pediatrician and not by my husband, I had no qualms about it and just want to make my girl healthy.  

The rest of the day went well.  I was able to nap AND shower!  First time in four days!  I was a new woman!  My mom asked me what she could buy me as a small gift of celebration - if I wanted a cake or ice cream or something.  Hands down, totally asked for a big dinner from Jersey Mike’s sub sandwiches.  Best decision ever.  That night my hormones got the best of me when my mom and Kevin decided to prioritize my sleep over everything else and basically sent me to bed at 9:30 p.m. telling me not to get back up until my shift at 6 a.m.  Oh, and also, that Kevin wanted Aug to try to sleep in her crib in the nursery with Erp (in her own crib) that night.  That decision was something I wasn’t ready to process and I tail-spinned from there.  I knew my hormones and lack of sleep were getting the best of me as I desperately tried to explain my feelings and try to help out more. Eventually, I just went to bed and hoped for the best, trusting my husband and mom were capable and just trying to do the best thing for me (even though *I* thought the best thing for me was to help out more, not sleep). (Also, the room sharing only lasted maybe five minutes before Aug started crying and needed to be removed from the room).  

Day three at home, Sunday/today, has been amazing so far.  Even though I was awake for two hours during the night, I did get a total of six hours and had a really great morning solo with Aug.  This was probably the most time she and I have spent one-on-one with each other and it was so needed.  I woke up at 6, by 6:30 I was breastfeeding her, by 7 I was feeding her a bottle.  By 7:30 she was down for a nap and I was pumping.  By 8 I got Erp up and loved having a solo morning with her, it was so good for us both!  By 8:30 I was finally able to make myself a delicious breakfast of avocado toast, fried eggs and french pressed coffee.  My mom was up at the same time so she was entertaining Erp while I got to eat in peace.  It was just the morning I needed.  Having that time with both girls one-on-one, but also at times together and having everything go well was so healing. 

Oh, and on top of everything else mentioned above, my feet have become horribly swollen thanks to the 3L of IV fluid pushed through my body and my face is incredibly puffy.  The breastfeeding cramps are brutal this time around and my nipples hate me. Desperately looking forward to a few weeks from now when, hopefully, my body has recovered more.  

Looking forward to continuing to find peace in structure and creating a routine that works well for us all.  While my free time is few and far between (especially when you throw in a very needy/grouchy cat into the mix who’s horribly being neglected despite my best efforts), I continue to find bright moments of joy in this new world of parenthood.  

[rosiehunterwolf]

Prompt: ninja(s) of your choice + hospital stay

Have fun 😉

I saw this, and my brain immediately started whirring, and I was like- no, Rosie. Don’t do it. Don’t write about Lloyd. You always write about Lloyd. You always hurt Lloyd. Almost every fic you’ve ever written is about Lloyd, this bean’s been through enough, WRITE ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE FOR ONCE, DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO HURT LLOYD AGAIN-

Yeah. It’s about Lloyd.

i love you and it hurts

Summary: Kai would do anything to protect his family. Especially his best friend, Lloyd. They’ve always been tight, and he just wants to keep him safe.

Unfortunately, it’s not a one-way street, and protective instincts run in the family. When Lloyd’s reckless, protective nature goes too far and lands him a trip to the hospital, Kai is terrified.

He never meant for it to be like this.

Attackers flanked his side, and Kai slashed his sword in a fiery arch, sending them to the ground. But more were coming, and he couldn’t stop them-

Flames licked across the ground, blocking the enemy from reaching him. It wouldn’t last long, though- already, they were sputtering to a halt as someone- he couldn’t see who it was, blood and sweat blurred his vision- lunged at him, and Kai struggled to push back.

I can’t do this, where are you guys-

The guy was suddenly forced off of him, and Kai fell to the ground, panting. He glanced up to see Lloyd standing over him, fire in his eyes as he glared at their attackers, a glowing sphere of energy hovering in his hand.

“Thanks, dude,” he gasped as Lloyd helped him to his feet.

“Don’t mention it. You’ve done the same for me a thousand times.”

Kai grinned, shooting flames in the face of an attacker. “Oh, is that what’s going on? You’re trying to repay your enormously large debt to me for saving your butt?”

“I don’t owe you anything. I’m doing it because I care.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all know you’re a big softie-”

“Kai!”

The ear-piercing scream cut through the air, and before Kai could even process anything, Lloyd was slamming into his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Then Lloyd was slumped in his arms, shivering, someone was screaming, there was blood everywhere, he was drowning in it, Lloyd was too cold, too still in his arms-

Kai jerked awake in a cold sweat, half out of his chair before he was held back down by Nya, who murmured sleepily where she was leaning against his shoulder.

He took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. He glanced up at the waiting room they were sitting in, reminding himself where they were.

They were fine. They were in the hospital.

Lloyd was safe.

The others were curled up on the chairs next to him, leaning on each other as they slept. Someone had dimmed the lights and draped blankets over them.

Groggily, he lifted his head towards the sound of soft voices. Two nurses stood near the hall, whispering.

“It came together very nicely. He already seems a lot better. It was a severe wound, but his body is healing unusually quickly.”

“How is he doing?”

“He’s pretty out of it, which is to be expected, but seems to be doing pretty well otherwise.”

“Lloyd’s awake?” Kai scrambled out of his chair, ignoring Nya’s groan.

The nurses glanced over at him in surprise. “You’re up!”

“I just woke up. Is Lloyd finally conscious?”

“He just woke up a little while ago. He’s tired, but he’s doing okay.”

“Can I see him?” The nurses exchanged hesitant glances, and he pressed. “Please? I just want to see that he’s okay.”

One nurse nodded. “I can take you in for a little while. But not long, he’s probably going to want to sleep.”

“I understand.”

The nurses led him down the hallway to Lloyd’s room, and as they pushed their way in, Kai hesitated briefly at the door.

It’s okay. You got this.

Stepping into the room, Kai felt his gaze darting around to everything else except what he was here for. The beeping monitors on the wall, an IV pole near the bed, a chair in the corner near a small window, a door leading to the bathroom-

“Kai?”

The way Lloyd spoke was so hopeful, heartfelt, and emotional- Kai couldn’t avoid it anymore. He looked over at Lloyd.

Lloyd was half-sitting up in bed, although that was mostly due to all the pillows supporting him. His whitish-blond hair was messy, he still looked too pale, and, although his hospital gown covered most of it, Kai could still see some of the bandaged areas poking out. But he was looking infinitely better than he had 24 hours ago, stiff, cold, and unmoving as nurses wheeled him off to surgery. The difference gave Kai whiplash, and he just stood there for a minute, too shocked, scared, and relieved to do anything.

Lloyd’s gaze softened, and he lifted an arm towards him. “C’mere.”

Kai stumbled to his bedside with a gasp, letting Lloyd wrap his arms around him. When Kai finally pulled away, that part of Lloyd’s hospital gown was wet with tears.

“Kai, look at this.” Gently, Lloyd pulled up his garment to expose his chest, revealing the long and jagged- yet precise and careful- line of stitches there. Lloyd grabbed his hand and gently pulled it over towards the area, guiding it onto the wound. “See? I’m okay. I’m better now.”

Kai lightly ran his fingers over the stitching, feeling the way they were strong and connected, and his heart rate slowly turned to something more normal. But the knot of unease in his chest still hadn’t faded. Lloyd had taken a hit from a sword meant for Kai. It should’ve been him lying here now, not his baby brother.

“Lloyd,” Kai said. “You saved my life. For that, I owe you everything. And, of course, I am beyond relieved that you are okay. But I never- never- want you to do that again.”

Lloyd frowned. “Sure, I’ll stop. As soon as you stop risking your life for me.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Then who is it about? You’re just as much a part of this as I am.”

“That’s not the point! I just want you to be safe! I can’t go through that panic again!’

‘You think I don’t feel the same every time you run off recklessly or endanger your safety on my behalf? It’s one of the worst feelings in the world.”

“Which is why you, of all people, should understand why I need you to stop! Your life will never be worth anything I can offer you.”

“Are you kidding?” Lloyd’s eyes were blazing now. “Nothing on this Earth matters more to me than our family, especially you. I would die for you. I have, and I will again.”

“But I don’t want you to,” Kai whimpered, rubbing his hand.

“I don’t want you to, either. Yet you do. We both do, even though we shouldn’t. Because our friendship is stronger than anything.”

Kai smiled tearfully. “Even stronger than our common sense, apparently.”

Lloyd smiled back. “Yeah. I’m sorry for worrying you, Kai. I hate making you feel that way. But I’m not going to promise to stop doing it, because if given the choice again, I would do the same thing in a heartbeat. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

“I know you would, bud. I would do the same. Of course I would. I just… I’m so scared that one time it will go too far.”

Lloyd said nothing, looking down at his hands.

“What about this,” Kai suggested, and Lloyd glanced back up at him. “I won’t tell you to stop protecting me, as long as you don’t tell me to stop protecting you. But I will ask you to be more careful. To think before you act. Because sometimes, there’s a better way. And I would hate for you to die thinking that it was the only way to save me when there was a better alternative.”

Lloyd nodded. “I can do that. I promise to be less reckless in the future.”

“Good,” Kai murmured, leaning against him as he felt his eyelids droop. “I think we’re going to be okay.”

[after-avenging-hours]

Out of Time [Epilogue]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary:  After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 4614

Warnings: You might die from cuteness

When you land back in the future, your entire body is shaking. You have just enough strength to hit the button on the time watch to dissolve your quantum suit before you collapse to your knees.

“Vic!” Bucky vaults onto the platform. He kneels in front of you, taking your face into his hands. “Vic, what’s wrong?”

“Did you get the serum?” You can hear Bruce’s voice.

Your breaths come out in sputtering gasps, but you try to fight through it and nod your head. “Yes,” you choke out. “I have it.” Your hands are shaking as you reach for the internal pocket on your coat and hand it over to Bucky. “Dr. Erskine said that the components will begin to degrade the longer it’s left unused. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

Bucky takes the vial and quickly hands it off to Bruce, before returning to you. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What happened?” he coaxes gently.

Tears well up in your eyes when you look back at him. “I think I messed up.”

He gently helps you to your feet and takes you to your bedroom to get cleaned up and changed into something more comfortable as you begin to divulge in full detail what exactly happened when you traveled back in time. He sits patiently on the corner of your bed as you pace up and down the room. You talk until your voice is raw and then you keep going.

“But then he threatened to drop the vial if I didn’t tell him who I worked for! I didn’t know what else to do, so I told him the truth…”

“And he believed you,” Bucky surmises, already putting the pieces together.

“He did,” you confirm, going a little soft as you recall his reasoning for believing you. “But Bucky…” you begin to shake your head fervently. “I broke every rule! I changed everything! None of that was supposed to happen!” You gesture wildly off to the side in a vague attempt at pointing toward the past. “And now, it’s too late to fix any of it,” you say brokenly.

Bucky releases a long breath, his mind spinning after everything you’ve just revealed. “Look, I’m not the science expert here and my only experience with time travel is getting shoved into an icebox every few years,” his lame attempt at a joke makes you scoff at best. “But I’m pretty sure that if anything got changed from this, you would be the only one that knows any different. So, let’s start small.”

You tilt your head as you look back at him, not understanding where he’s going with this.

“Look around your room. Is anything different here?” he asks.

As soon as you realize what he’s getting at, you start to walk around the room. Everything is exactly as you had left it. There’s a picture frame on the nightstand on your side of the bed. You’re tucked under Steve’s arm and smiling brightly at the camera. You remember that the photo was taken during one of Tony’s parties. Steve is wearing that tight blue button-up shirt that always drives you crazy and you’re decked out in a pretty red dress. Not even ten minutes after this photo was taken, you and Steve had snuck off for a quickie in the bathroom, because you just couldn’t handle how sexy he was in that damn shirt.

You smile fondly at the picture and move around the rest of the room. The books on your bookshelf are all the same. Half of them are yours, half are Steve’s. The closet is still divided between both of your things, but it’s all the same outfits you’ve seen hundreds of times. The bathroom still has both of your toothbrushes in the cup by the sink. A few different makeup products are scattered over the counter from when you’d been trying to figure out what you were going to take with you to 1943.

You make your way back over to Bucky, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all the same.”

“Okay,” Bucky nods. “And I assume that I’m not any different, right?” He asks. “Now be careful with what you say, because if you tell me I didn’t have to lose my arm, I may just pull this one off and throw it at you,” he jokes again, pointing to his metal arm.

That one manages to successfully pull a laugh out of you, even if it’s a small one. “No, you’re the same. Metal arm included.”

“Alright…” Bucky grunts quietly as he pushes off the bed to stand up. “Then let’s widen our scope. While we’re at it, let’s head to the kitchen and get some food in you.”

You’re not very hungry, but you know that Bucky is just trying to take care of you in Steve’s absence, so you don’t argue. The two of you leave the living quarters and head for the shared kitchen. It’s strange being back. Not only because of the abundance of technology, that you had seriously taken for granted, but also because that feeling of uselessness was beginning to sink back in.

You’d completed your part. You got the serum. Now all that’s left is to wait and see if it paid off. You’re of no use at this point and that is really starting to weigh on you. “Bucky… what if it doesn’t work?” you ask, your voice sounding hollow.

“Don’t say that, Vic. Don’t even think it,” he responds swiftly. “You busted your ass to get us that serum. It’s going to work.”

You have to bite your lip to keep it from trembling, your eyes are already so raw from how much you’ve been crying that it physically hurts to tear up. “How can you be so sure?”

His gaze softens when he looks back at you. “You said it perfectly yourself. I have faith.”

--

Bucky was lucky enough to get some food in you but was wholly unsuccessful in getting you to rest. So here you are, 24 hours after arriving back from the past and you’re sitting at Steve’s bedside, desperately scrolling through a tablet reading through as many historical events as you can from the last century, trying to figure out what’s changed. So far, you’ve come up empty.

Bruce showed up at about 3 in the morning to tell you they had a breakthrough with the serum and had been able to synthesize a cure. He had even reached out to Shuri in Wakanda to have her double-check their work before preparing the antidote to administer into Steve’s IV. You gave her a quick phone call to let her know how grateful you were for her help and to tell her how handy her healing gel had been during your travels. When you asked how you could ever repay her, she’d laughed and told you to take her to Disneyland, because T’Challa still refused to take her himself. That made you crack a smile and you quickly agreed to get a trip planned.

Everyone else had, for the most part, left you alone to be with Steve. You are completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, but you can’t seem to let your mind rest. You can’t help but feel in your gut that your presence in the past had to have changed something. You just can’t for the life of you figure out what.

“Vic?”

The rough voice has your head snapping up so fast, you get whiplash. “Steve!” You quickly place the tablet down and scramble to your feet.

He blinks heavily, and he looks groggy as all hell, but he’s definitely awake.

“Oh, you big idiot. You scared the shit out of me!” You’re already crying again, just from the relief of seeing him awake.

“Sorry,” he grimaces. “What happened?”

“Those Hydra scientists injected you with some type of anti-serum poison. It almost killed you.”

“Would explain why I feel like shit…” he mumbles.

You scoff out a wet laugh. Reaching up, you push his bangs off his forehead then curl your fingers down his temple and over his smooth cheek. “Jerk,” you tell him affectionately.

His lips tilt into a half-grin before immediately falling into a frown. He grips your arm to stop you from pulling it back. “Vic, what is this?” he questions, looking at the bruise around your wrist. Figures he would notice that in mere seconds of being awake. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to have anyone else look at it yet.

“Oh, it’s nothing…” you try to brush it off and take your arm back, but his grip is surprisingly firm for someone that had literally been just steps away from death. Damn Super Soldier.

“It’s not nothing,” he insists. “That’s a handprint! Vic, who did-” he cuts himself off, gaze flickering down to where his fingers are wrapped around the middle of your arm and then back up to the bruise. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand travels up the length of your arm until he’s circling your wrist. He’s gentle and doesn’t press on the bruise at all, just hovers over it enough to see the exact match. “I did this,” he states upon the realization. His brows then furrow in confusion. “Why don’t I remember…?” He inhales sharply, his grip going slack, causing his hand to drop into his lap. In the next moment, his head whips around you meet your startled gaze. “You went back!” he exclaims.

“What-” your jaw drops as you stare back at him, wide-eyed. Your heart begins to pound in your chest. “How…”

“Vic, honey, this is serious. Did you go back to 1943?” Steve questions insistently. He looks just about ready to jump out of the hospital bed if you don’t answer immediately.

You release a shaky breath. “How did you know that?” you question, your mind racing to come up with an explanation for whatever seems to be happening here. You jolt when the medical equipment hooked up to Steve starts beeping because of his elevated heart rate. He pulls the heart monitor clip off of his finger and tries to push himself into an upright position. “Whoa, Steve!” you place your hands on his chest to make him lie back again. “Hon, you need to take it easy. Your body is still trying to fight off the poison and you haven’t received the full dose of the antidote, yet.” You hit the button on the side of the bed to lift him up into a seated position.

“Vic, where’s my suit?” he asks urgently.

“Your suit?” you question, not understanding why he’s asking about it. “It’s right here,” you point to where it’s neatly folded on a table behind you. He’d been stripped out of it so they could work on him, but you hadn’t had the time or mental capacity to put it away, yet.

“Look under the chest plate, on the inside of the suit,” he instructs. “There’s a hidden pocket on the left.”

You give him a perplexed look before slowly turning to move toward the table. You slip your hand under the collar of his uniform and feel around under the chest plate. Sure enough, your fingers brush against the small pull tab of an invisible zipper. Pinching it between two fingers, you open the pocket and try to feel for what could be inside. Your fingers brush against some kind of paper. The beat of your heart fills your ears as you slowly pull the paper out and carefully unfold it.

“Oh my god…” all the air rushes out of your lungs at once.

It’s you. Drawn out in charcoal. Asleep on the cot in the barracks at Camp Lehigh. The drawing is unmistakable. You just saw it yesterday morning, so you can recognize it instantly. But the version you hold now is faded and smudged. The paper is soft and worn, the edges have turned yellow. The one you hold now didn’t come through the quantum realm. This one passed through the passage of time one single day at a time.

“You said I should carry you in my heart,” Steve’s words pierce straight through your scattered thoughts, making you gasp. “So, I did.”

Your hands begin to shake. You quickly set down the sketch, afraid that you might damage the delicate paper. “I…” you huff, your mind racing faster than you have the strength to comprehend. “I don’t understand.” Your breath hitches and you cup your hands over your mouth.

“Vic,” Steve calls for you gently.

When you turn to face him, he’s got his hand stretched out, beckoning you closer. You feel dizzy as you walk on unsteady legs over to him, taking his hand and letting him pull you closer until you’re sitting on the side of his bed. “Steve… I don’t- What does this mean?”

He gives you a small smile, squeezing your hand gently for comfort. “You just spent the last two weeks in 1943, right?” You swallow thickly and nod your head. “Vic… those two weeks happened 80 years ago for me.”

You choke on your next breath when his words confirm what your brain is trying to grasp at. “So, that means that I did mess up the timeline, then. Oh, God. Bruce warned me that-”

“Honey, you didn’t mess up anything,” Steve cuts you off, using a soothing tone. 

“But…”

He runs his fingers over your hand, tracing out the lines on your palm in a calming gesture. “Do you remember when you were trying to figure out my Ma’s potato soup recipe?” he asks. “You would get so sad whenever it didn’t turn out quite right.”

You release a shaky breath watching how his fingers trace over your palm again and again. “I almost gave up.”

“I know. But then I begged you to try again. Just one more time. I told you that I knew you would get it right and what happened next?” he prompts.

You huff out a laugh at the memory, “The next one was perfect.”

Steve nods in confirmation. “I knew you would get the recipe right because you’d already made it for me once…” He stops the ministration of his fingers on your hand and waits for your gaze to lift to his. “In 1943,” he finishes.

You hold his gaze and let that sink in. “So… These last two weeks… That was always supposed to happen?”

“Yes,” he confirms with a breath.

“But…” you shake your head trying to wrap your head around this new concept. “You never said anything… Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

He fixes you with a sad look, “For the same reason you were terrified to tell me the truth,” He explains. “I wanted to tell you. In fact, there were several times when I almost did. But I was scared that if I told you before it had a chance to happen, then it wouldn’t happen at all.” He’s gone back to fiddling with your hand, now that he’s the one that needs comfort from the contact. “Vic, look at me,” he implores. “Why do I make you dance with me whenever Taking a Chance on Love comes on?”

He’s never given you a reason before, which means there’s only one answer. “Because I made you dance with me to it in your apartment,” you answer.

He smiles. “Why do I always ask to make sure you’ve checked the expiration date on your emergency inhaler?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Because I had to give it to you during your asthma attack.”

“Why do I kiss you on your stomach and on your back where you now have a set of scars underneath that t-shirt?”

Your press your free hand to the side of your stomach absentmindedly. “Because you helped me patch up the gunshot wound.”

“See?” he asks. “You didn’t change the timeline, Vic. You completed it.”

The words have no sooner left his mouth before you’re promptly bursting into tears. However, these tears aren’t coming from a place of sadness or fear, they instead stem from pure relief. You crumple forward against his chest, openly sobbing as he wraps an arm around you. “I was so scared that I had messed things up!”

“I know, Honey. But it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He places a kiss to the top of your head and rubs soothingly at your back. He holds you close as you cry out the last of the stress and tension out of your body.

When you’re no longer racked with sob you push yourself off of him and rise off the bed. You grab a few tissues from the side table to blow your nose and dry your eyes before tossing them into the trash. You release a long sigh, feeling the last of the tension leave you. This, however, allows pure exhaustion to settle over you in its place.

“Vic, I mean this in the most loving way, but you look like crap.”

You release a dry scoff, shooting Steve with a light glare. “Gee, thanks.”

He looks back with concern. “When was the last time you slept?”

Your gaze softens up. “In 1943,” you tell him honestly.

“Come here,” he lifts his arm in invitation.

“Steve, you’re still recovering,” you protest.

“I’ll recover a whole lot faster if you don’t make me get up and come after you.”

You huff out a laugh, but relent and move back toward the bed. “Stubborn jerk,” you mumble. You kick off your shoes and raise the thin blanket covering his legs to tuck yourself in close next to him. You lay on your side, with your head on his chest and a leg thrown over his. You shift around a bit until you find the most comfortable spot. “You were easier to spoon when you were smaller.”

Steve releases a low chuckle, settling his arm over your shoulders and resting his hand at your back. “At least you never called my penis adorable when I was this size.”

“Oh my God,” you grumble. “I never said that, but I can certainly start!”

He snickers when you slap his chest. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt and crawls back up until his fingers touch the scar on your back. He releases a low hum. “As soon as I get out of this hospital bed, we’re having crazy hot reunion sex.”

You snort in amusement. “I’m sorry, we’re having what?”

“Hey, you got some like two days ago, but I haven’t had sex in like a month,” he protests.

“Are you seriously jealous of yourself?” you ask dubiously.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he admits, continuing to run his fingers over your scar. “Usually whenever I missed you enough to make my chest ache. It happened a lot when you first left, but it would also creep up on me whenever things got slow on the war front. It always made me think about how there was a version of myself somewhere out there in another time that got to spend every night wrapped up in your arms. A version of me that got to touch you whenever he wanted. Kiss you whenever he pleased. It killed me not knowing when or if I’d ever see you again.”

You rub your cheek against his chest and listen to him talk. “When I was in the Valkyrie while it was going down and had to decide what to do… You were my first thought. If I crashed the plane and died, then I’d never get to see you again. And that thought scared me more than anything else. But then I remembered what you told me the day you left.  Don’t make your choices based on what you think will bring you back to me. Make the choice because you know it’s the right thing to do. And I knew at that moment that this was exactly what you had been talking about. So… I grabbed onto my faith and plunged into the ice.

“When I woke up in 2012… I was terrified that I had overshot the timeline and missed my opportunity to be with you. Then the battle of New York happened and suddenly I had bigger problems to deal with. When I got assigned to the DC SHIELD office, as soon as I got my credentials, you were the first thing I looked up. Imagine my surprise when I found out you’d actually been in New York with me.”

“Like two ships passing in the night,” you comment, watching your fingers draw random patterns against his chest. “I was re-assigned to the LA office after New York.”

“I know. I purchased a plane ticket to California.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. “What?”

“Yeah. I flew out there to find you. When I got to the SHIELD base, the director made a big deal about my arrival and wanted to give me a grand tour of the facility. You were training when I first saw you.” You shift up onto your elbow, so you can look down and meet his gaze, eager to hear what he’ll say next. “You were with a guy. Sparring. I could tell you both were pretty friendly with each other. The way you fought was more teasing than actual combat training and whenever he pinned you to the mat, you would laugh. From where I was standing, it looked like you were flirting.”

You rack your brain, trying to figure out who he could be talking about. “Was that my old partner?” you question. “The one that was already married?”

Steve purses his lips and scrunches his nose. “And gay… It would take me a few years before figuring that one out.”

“Ugh, Steve!” you groan and flop back down onto his chest. To think you could have been with him even earlier if he hadn’t jumped to conclusions.

“I know,” he agrees with a sigh. “I really shot myself in the foot with that one. But you’d also been younger than I remembered you, so I was pretty sure I hadn’t missed our chance. I flew back to DC and then waited for you to come to me.”

“How the hell did you manage to keep all of this a secret? You suck at lying.” You ask in disbelief.

That gets a laugh out of him. “I honestly have no idea, but I am so glad that I can talk about it with you now.”

“Well, then I guess while we’re on the subject of clearing the air, I also have a confession to make.” Steve looks at you curiously. “I kind of had a ‘klepto’ moment,” you admit.

His brows pull together, “What does that mean?”

You bite your bottom lip and grimace, “I took something that doesn’t belong to me and brought it back through the quantum realm.”

He raises a brow, unsure if he should be amused or disapproving of your actions. “What did you take?”

Pushing yourself back up, you crawl halfway over his body and stretch an arm out to the wheeling table by his bed where all of your friends have put flowers and little trinkets to express their well wishes. Steve grabs onto your hips to make sure you don’t fall out of the bed as you drag the table a little closer. Plucking an object off the table, you settle back against Steve’s side and hand it to him.

“Vic…” even with just the one syllable, you can hear him choking up.

“Our last morning at the camp, you left to take a shower and your suitcase was just sitting there. Open. I saw where you had tucked it, and I don’t really know why, but I took it. I knew that when you woke up in 2012, anything that hadn’t been with you on that plane had been lost forever. I just… I wanted you to have them back.”

He stares down at the picture frame for a long time, unblinking.

“Are you mad…?” you ask hesitantly.

He finally blinks and a single tear travels down his cheek. “I never thought I’d see this again,” he says quietly. As you reach to wipe away his tear, his gaze lifts to yours. “Thank you,” he tells you, his voice filled with so much love you can feel it.

You smile tenderly back, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. “They would have been so proud of you.”

He swallows thickly and you have to wipe another tear from his cheek. “My Ma would have loved you.”

You lean your head down to rest your forehead against his. He takes a moment to process through his emotions before tilting his face forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You release a content hum and fall into the kiss. This kiss feels a little different somehow. It’s pure and clarifying. It wipes away all the pain and stress you’ve felt over the last two weeks. It mends the cracks in your heart that formed when you had to leave him in 1943. You made it back. The serum worked. He’s alive and speeding down the road to recovery.

When you pull back, you’re crying again, because your heart is just so full that there’s nowhere left for your emotions to go. “I love you,” you whisper wetly against his lips.

He looks back and gives you the sweetest smile, “I love you too, Vic.” You help him put the picture of his parents back on the side table before settling against his side once again. “Okay, reunion sex first, but then we’re getting married like immediately after,” he comments.

You grin wide and release a laugh at his words. “Do I get a say in any of this?”

His arm tightens where it’s wrapped around your waist. “Only if you plan on saying yes.”

“Normally you’re supposed to ask these kinds of things,” you tease. As if there was any other option.

“I am way past the point of asking,” he huffs. “Would have done it years ago, if someone hadn’t told me in 1943 that we weren’t married yet!”

“What was I supposed to say?!” You ask, wanting to laugh again. You can’t believe that this is your first argument after coming back.

“You were supposed to say that I married the shit out of you the second I saw you again! Maybe then, I would have tossed you over my shoulder and taken you for myself in California.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you giggle at his pouting face.

“Say you’ll marry me, or things are about to get a whole lot more ridiculous. I will toss you over my shoulder and go right now,” he threatens, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth is giving him away. 

“Yes, you stubborn idiot. I will let you marry the shit out of me.”

He shoots you a smug grin before his laughter starts to break through. “What happened to stubborn jerk?”

“You’ve been promoted for suggesting we should get married while you’re still hooked into an IV bag and I haven’t slept in 80 years.”

He looks over his shoulder up at the IV that’s still slowly administering fluids and the antidote into his system. “I can bring the IV stand with us and you can nap on the way. It’ll be great.”

You laugh at the goofy grin plastered across his mouth. “Good luck with that.”

If possible, his grin widens even further. “I don’t need luck. All I need is my Victory.”

-

The End

[talkfastromance4]

Temporary--Luke&Lily series

a/n: so sorry it’s taken me a month to complete this. It’s a heavy topic with a lot of emotions and I was feeling what my characters were feeling. This is very detail oriented, some medical jargon (I did my best research and some of it was from watching Grey’s Anatomy which I know isn’t realistic but I tried)

warnings: NICU mentions throughout, premature birth, C-section, sadness, moments of grief and loneliness, some sexual content. **Please read very carefully, this is a sensitive topic**

word count: 9.7k

Masterlist

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Magical Memoriess&Misfortunes (<-- catch up here)

feedback is always welcome, I hope you enjoy it.

****

It’s like you’re in a horrible dream. You’re frozen in terror at the multiple bodies moving above you, their voices warped but all you feel is immense pain and fright. You search for Luke through your blurred and clouded vision. The lights are too bright. It hurts your eyes.

You think you hear your name through the thick cotton cloud that has somehow gotten in your ear. Why can’t you hear properly? Where’s Luke? How did you get on this moving bed?

Another white-hot-blazing pain slices through you. You think you scream. Hands are on you and then it goes black…

…When you wake up, you’re still in this horrible nightmare that won’t seem to end. Usually when the terrible things keep happening, you wake up in a cold sweat.

“…. lovie…”

Your head lolls to the side and you see Luke’s eyes peeking out above a blue mask and a blue cap. It still feels like you’re stuck in a cloud and you feel a tug below you. Before you can look down, Luke cups your cheek and shakes his head.

You don’t know what he means but tears start rolling down your cheeks and then you close your eyes again. Why can’t you wake up? You just want to wake up, get out of this night terror…

…Coming to again and you hear more voices and commotion. You hear the urgency. Their words meet your ears, but the meaning doesn’t register with your brain. What is happening? Luke still has a firm grip on your face, but you look beyond him and see a group of people in blue gathered around a small thing. Their hands work quickly. You wish your tears would make what’s happening clearer.

“He’s breathing! It’s very labored!”

“Intubate him. Page Dr. Chambers.”

“Move people!”

He? Who’s he?

You look to Luke and he’s smiling through his own tears, his forehead pressed to yours.

Just as you’re about to connect the very blurry dots, more pain ensues. This is the worst thing you’ve ever felt in your life. It’s all over your body and it’s in your chest, collapsing onto you.

More voices.

More urgency.

More terror.

More questions.

Then, you drift off once more, the pain ceasing with each gasped breath.

**

Soft, methodical beeps drift you awake. You’re not on that strange cloud anymore but your body feels heavy, weighted. You search your brain for where you are, the sheets are crisp and your feet are cold. Disney World swims by and you’re confused because you remember waking up after you fainted.

Was that real?

Or is this real?

Then it hits you, like the snap of a rubber band breaking all the distorted memories and voices and hands all come back. The pain. The tug. He…

You gasp and flash your eyes open. You’re met with a white ceiling and wires and tubes suspended above you. There’s commotion to your left then Luke’s face is in your vision. His eyes are red with dark circles underneath them; his hair is a disarray as if he’s been pulling his fingers through it repeatedly.

“Oh, thank God, Y/N I was so worried. They told me you’d be asleep for a while because you lost so much blood…so much blood…but you’re okay now. You’re awake. I’m right here, lovie, I’m right here,” he rushes out in a frantic whisper.

He touches your forehead carefully and he’s so warm. You’re still trying to string everything together but there’s so many gaps in time. You’re pinpointing things by the different types of pain you experienced.

“What…what happened?” you croak then try to swallow. But your mouth and throat are so dry it’s like trying to swallow sand. It hurts.

When will the pain stop?

Luke’s eyes soften, he continues to stroke your forehead and into your hair. He licks his chapped lips then shakes his head.

“I…”

“Did I lose the baby?” you whisper, voice sounding like broken glass. Tears well up in your eyes again.

“No, no, no…shhh, shhh,” he soothes wiping at your tears with his other hand.

“They don’t…” he takes a deep shuddering breath, “you had a C-section. He’s in the NICU being monitored, I only got a small glimpse of him before they took him away. He’s so small and I don’t know what’s happening, no one has come by and I’ve been worried you wouldn’t wake up.”

And then you’re comforting him by pulling his head to yours, he sobs into you and you pet his hair. Your voice is lost, you feel the sudden loss of your baby not in you anymore, your heart is very fragile and seeing Luke like this terrifies you.

But Luke also said ‘he’ and a small smile appears on your lips. You have a son.

“I’m so glad you’re awake, baby,” he whispers. You feel his hot tears soak through the gown on your shoulder.

“Can you call for a nurse?” you ask kissing his hair delicately. At least, you hope you do because your lips are also very chapped and dry. You need some damn water.

“What hurts?” his head snaps up and you see why his eyes are so red; from his tears.

You swallow and swipe at his own tears.

“We need damn information about our son, and I need some damn water,” your voice shakes with ferocity. Luke punches the call button repeatedly until a nurse runs in.

**

After hydrating yourself with water, Luke took your hand keeping his gaze on you as you demanded the nurse to get your doctor, or your son’s doctor, to come and give you information. You’re never normally one to yell at someone, but your memories have so many holes in them you need to know what’s happened.

The nurse tries to console you but you’re hell bent on finding out about your son. Your son you haven’t even seen yet.

“I will walk there if I have to,” you threaten through gritted teeth. The more frustrated you become the more prominent the throb and ache below your waist also becomes.

“I will go find your doctor right away, ma’am,” the nurse nods frantically and runs from the room. You glare in his wake.

Luke squeezes your hand; you look at him.

“I love you,” he says simply but you hear way more than that.

I’m scared, too. I don’t know what to do either. We’re in this together. I’m never letting go.

Shortly after, a doctor walks in the room, her expression timid and she’s scrolling on her iPad.

“Mrs. Hemmings, how are you feeling? Any pain we can help with? I’m Dr. Wilson and I administered the C-section.”

“I’m fine. Take me to my son and let me know what’s happening,” you demand.

“Mrs. Hemmings, with your son being born at only 25 weeks the next 24 hours is very critical. We are monitoring him as we speak, I have my best staff on his watch,” Dr. Wilson explains, her voice cool and collected.

“What happened?”

Dr. Wilson steps closer to your side of the bed, her round face and almond-shaped eyes show both kindness and fire in them. You’re still on the fence on how to feel about her because she didn’t tell Luke anything.

“Part of your placenta was twisted, and it caused you to go into early labor which also caused stress on your baby. Thankfully, you got here in time and we were able to get him out before it became worse. His breathing was labored and with him being so small and born extremely early, his organs haven’t fully developed yet.”

“Why are the next 24 hours critical?” Luke asks, his hold on your hand is like a death grip.

“Because he’s still so small, his lungs aren’t at the correct size they should be. Lack of oxygen can cause severe brain damage or heart failure. We have an ET, endotracheal tube in his mouth which is hooked to a ventilator to help him breathe. An IV is also administering the nutrition he needs, we’re monitoring his heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen levels, and he’s being kept in an incubator that helps simulate the inside of the womb.”

You take in all the information, your heart longing for your baby boy that you have no idea what he looks like.

“What’s the survival rate for a baby born at 25 weeks?” your voice cracks. Luke shifts closer to you, his other hand covering yours.

Dr. Wilson glances between you and Luke before answering solemnly, “Between 67 to 76% survival.”

Luke lets out a choked gasp and you shift your eyes to the ceiling to keep the burning tears from falling.

“I can promise you Mr. and Mrs. Hemmings, that we are doing everything in our power to make sure he makes it through the next 24 hours. He’s a strong little guy.”

“Is there any way we can see him?” Luke’s voice wavers and is thick with emotion.

“Infection is very prominent right now; any outside contact can make him head in a worse direction.”

“Please,” you beg in a whisper meeting Dr. Wilson’s eyes. You notice that they’re brown. “I need to see him. I don’t want him to be alone if he…if he…”

You bite your lip and shake your head; you’re too overcome with emotions to finish a sentence you don’t even want to think about.

“Mrs. Hemmings, I can’t risk your stitches tearing. You’ve lost a lot of blood; your blood pressure is extremely high due to the stress of early labor.”

“I don’t care! Please, let me see him. I need to see what my baby looks like,” you cry. Luke rubs at your shoulder affectionately saying your name. You can’t look at him now. If you do you’ll lose this fiery courage that’s inside you right now.

“I understand. I’ll see what I can do, but are you sure you aren’t in any pain?”

“My stomach hurts,” you whisper.

“I’ll have a nurse fix that for you. I will be right back,” Dr. Wilson smiles then leaves the room.

The male nurse you screamed at comes back in and makes quick work with your IV. You’re too distraught to look or even speak to Luke so you keep your eyes fixed on the white board on the opposite wall. The name of your nurse is Tom, and you look at each yellow face on the ‘rate your pain’ scale. You’re fixated on the number zero face, it’s the happiest looking one with a wide-open smile.

That scale is wrong. The pain and fear and worry you’re feeling doesn’t equate a ten. It’s too powerful, it weighs down on you but at the same time you feel nothing. The pain is too much that it’s also gone. Your pain is at a zero, a big circle of nothing and everything all at once.

**

You’re not sure how much time has passed before Dr. Wilson comes back.

“I cannot take you to see him, but I found a way where you can see him,” she smiles then hands you her iPad.

It’s heavy in your hand and you gasp upon the first look of your baby boy. He’s surrounded by blankets under a large light with tubes, wires, and circular patches attached to his tiny, tiny self. You see his small chest moving rapidly with his breaths and you see the tiniest hat on his head. Luke drapes himself next to you, his lips pressing onto your temple.

“There he is,” you whisper touching your finger to the screen. “He looks so helpless…”

“How is he?” Luke asks.

“His oxygen level is still very low, but he’s taking the nutrients very well.”

You’ve already got his features memorized, and yet you can’t stop looking at him. You wish you could touch him, let him know you’re there and that you love him.

“Can we keep this in here?” you ask.

“Of course. I’ll be back with more updates, but I need you to rest and heal yourself, Mrs. Hemmings. Is there any family we need to contact?”

“The girls!” you gasp and turn to Luke.

“Shit,” he exhales then checks the time on his watch. “Lily’s with Cory by now and Posy…shit! I’ll call Ashton and then call Cory…”

He continues to mumble to himself as he searches for his phone. You turn back to the screen, your heart longing for your little boy.

**

Hours have gone by, the room you’re in is darkened from the night sky peeking through the blinds. The iPad is still on your lap and you’ve heard every conversation Luke has had while he made phone calls. Daycare called Ashton when neither you nor Luke picked Posy up and both of your phones went unanswered.

According to Ashton, Luke sent out a text to the band group chat that said ‘at hospital. Emergency get the girls will call’ but he doesn’t even remember sending it. Everything happened so fast and yet it felt like it dragged.

Posy is at your home with Ashton and KayKay who said will stay with her for as long as you two need. Just when you think of Lily, Luke already asks if they’d be all right picking her up from Cory’s on Sunday and they said yes.

“Lily might want to stay with Cory,” you tell him after he hangs up with Ashton. He’s tapping away at his phone, probably texting Calum and Michael or his family. Or all of them. You’re not sure but now you have Lily and Posy on your mind.

“It’s too late to call him,” Luke mutters and falls into the chair beside your bed. He scoots closer and peers at the iPad screen.

“Where’s my phone? I’ll call him so he and Ella can discuss it,” you hold out your hand.

“Lovie, it’s almost ten thirty at night—”

“Give me my phone so I can call him, Luke,” you interrupt a little too harshly. “Please.”

He holds your gaze for a moment before reaching into his other pants pocket. He hands you your phone and you scroll to Cory’s name under your favorites. You stare at your baby boy as the phone rings.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s going on?” Cory asks and you feel your emotions rising to the surface at the sound of his voice.

You force them down.

“Um, me and Luke are at the hospital. Something…” you suck in a large breath but your voice still trembles. “Something went wrong and I had an emergency C-section and the baby is in the NICU. Posy is home with Ashton and KayKay and they said they’d pick up Lily tomorrow but I know she’d probably want to stay with you. And I…I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but Lily needs to know. She’s been seeing everything going on around her and I don’t want her to be scared.”

“Of course, they can both stay with us. I still have Lily’s toddler bed. How are you? Tell me what’s going on.”

You tell him everything. Luke holds your hand as you do, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles and your wedding ring.

“The doctor said he’s all right for now but he has to get through the next 24 hours?” Cory clarifies gently.

“Yes.”

“First of all, congratulations on a little boy,” he says and you can hear his smile through the phone. “You’re doing fine and he is too and he’ll continue to get better because he’s a fighter.”

“How do you know that? He’s so small, Cory….”

“I know it because you’re a fighter, I’m sure you’re giving the nursing staff hell and highwater to get answers,” he chuckles.

“Maybe a little. I feel bad about it.”

“You’re scared and you’re worried and this all happened so fast. But Luke is with you and you’ve got all of us supporting and loving you. You should try and get some sleep and I’ll tell Lily everything in the morning. Do you want me to call you so she can talk to you?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Cory.”

“Tell Luke I say hi and that I’m here for you two, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too,” you sigh then the call ends. You turn to Luke, the circles under his eyes seem to have darkened and you reach over to touch the shadows on his cheeks. “He said he’ll keep the girls and will call tomorrow so we can talk to Lily. He says hi.”

Luke nods slowly then laces his fingers with yours. He kisses the tips of your fingers, his eyes closing.

**

You and Luke were sent hourly updates on your son. He’s been in the same condition each time, you try to find positivity in that because he’s not getting worse, but he’s also not in the clear yet. When Cory called again with Lily on the phone, you and Luke tried to make your voices sound positive. She asked a lot of questions and wondered when she could come see her new brother.

“He’s a little sick right now, honey. We need him to get better so we can all be together, okay?” you told her and she was silent for a while.

“When are you and dada gonna come home?”

“Hopefully soon, my love,” Luke tells her.

“What about Piggy?”

“Uncle Cal has her at his house,” you make up then quickly look to Luke who’s already pulling out his phone to text Calum.

You’re being horrible parents, forgetting everything like this but all of it still doesn’t seem real. Probably because you haven’t actually seen or held your son in your own arms. Your stitches are healing nicely but your body still seems to think it’s pregnant and that stirs up even more conflicting emotions.

“Be a good girl for your daddy and Ella, okay my sweet?”

“Okay. Can you give my brother a kiss for me?”

“We will, Lily. We love you so much.”

You and Luke tried to occupy your time by watching tv but you’re only watching the bodies move across the screen. You nod on and off but always jerk awake in case you miss the doctor or nurse coming in. Luke comforts you each time, assuring you that there’s no change and points to the screen where you can see your son.

The circles under his eyes only seem to darken with each passing minute. He helps you walk to the bathroom and back into bed. You try telling him he can go home to shower and get more clothes but he refuses.

“I’m not leaving you or our son until I know he’s okay.”

One of your favorite movies is playing on the tv, it’s a black and white film about a couple who adopts a baby girl. It goes through their funny moments trying to figure it all out but it ends tragically with the little girl getting sick. You drifted off before it came to that part and then you were shaken awake by Luke.

Dr. Wilson enters the room with a big smile on her face. You and Luke take hold of each other’s hands, holding onto each other in desperation.

“He’s in the clear. His oxygen levels have elevated and he has a steady heartbeat. It’s still going to be a while until you’ll be able to take him home, he’s still at risk for a lot of infection and we want to make sure his organs continue to develop correctly,” Dr. Wilson explains.

“He’s okay?” you whisper.

“He is. He’s a little warrior.”

“When…when can we see him?” Luke asks.

“Let me check on your stitches first, and if they look all right I can take you down now, if you’d like.”

“Please, please,” you nod scrambling to move your blankets off you.

**

Luke is wheeling you down the brightly lit hallway in the NICU ward, you see other parents hovering around the incubator their baby is in. You and Luke had to be fitted into the light pink gowns with masks and gloves before you could see your son. You were more than okay wearing the odd things if it meant being able to finally see him.

Luke rolls you in between families until Dr. Wilson stops at the last station near the window. A nurse is standing by writing down something on a chart and then you’re right next to his incubator. First, all you can see is a mountain of swaddled blankets with tubes and wires sticking out from every direction. Then you see slight movement and you lean forward and come face to face with your baby.

Tears are rolling down your cheeks as you stare at him. He looks like he could just barely fit in your palms, you see the quick flutter of his heart through his thin chest that has wired tape. You press your hands to the reinforced plastic, the warmth from the light radiates through the gloves.

“Hi, my baby boy, I’m your mama,” you whisper and you’re aching to touch him. You see the two round openings for hands and you move your hands before looking to Dr. Wilson.

“You can touch him, let him know you’re here,” she encourages.

Very carefully, you insert your arm stretching your finger to his small body. You press against his cheek as lightly as you can, he’s warm and that makes you feel better.

“Hi sweetheart,” you continue to talk to him and you hear Luke sniff behind you. “You’re doing so well. Keep it up so you can get big and strong and we can take you home to your big sisters. Your daddy’s here, too.”

Dr. Wilson moves and Luke takes her place. He puts his arm through the opening and strokes his finger down your son’s arm. Your baby trembles a little then leans into your touches. You can’t help the wet smile from forming, he’s perfect. You rub at his forehead gently.

“We need to name him,” you say looking across globe of your son’s new home.

“I haven’t…do you have a name?”

“One popped in my head just now.”

“What is it?”

“Oliver,” you smile glancing down at him. “I was searching through names online and this one stuck out at me. It has a lot of meanings like peace, wisdom, health, and luck.”

“I think it’s perfect,” Luke smiles. “I know he’s only 24 hours old, but he seems very wise to me, don’t you think?”

“Wise and healthy.”

**

Tension has been high between you and Luke. You were at the hospital for a week and a few days more because you had contracted an infection at your incision site. It’s pretty common for an infection but that meant you couldn’t go visit Oliver. Once your infection was cleared you were discharged to go home.

You and Luke moved around each other like orbits just passing by. When you wake in the morning you move about the room like robots, barely looking at each other until you’re ready to go. Cory, Ashton, and the others stayed with Lily and Posy during the day while the both of you went to the hospital to visit Oliver. You missed Lily and Posy terribly and only saw them when they were fast asleep by the time you got home. 

You’d even forgotten about Posy’s birthday and it made you feel even worse than you already felt. Your hormones are abnormal and your body still feels like it’s pregnant even though you know you’re not. It’s a weird feeling, it’s a sad feeling because you can’t even hold your baby that is no longer inside your stomach. 

To your surprise, Ashton and KayKay had orchestrated Posy’s birthday for you and Luke. 

“We have to put on a happy face for Po,” Luke says softly on the morning of her birthday.

Your bodies are set to an automatic alarm because of the hospital visits. You’re staring at the ceiling then roll over to face Luke who is also facing the ceiling with his hands behind his head. You take in his profile, the sharp angle of his nose, his full beard and the smooth skin of his arms over lean muscles. It’s been so long since you’ve touched each other. 

Does he miss you too?

“I’m trying to,” you whisper and silently beg him to look at you. To kiss you. To hold you. To tell you that everything is going to be all right.

Instead, he sighs then rolls out of bed. You watch the muscles in his back pull and tighten when he puts on a t-shirt and heads into the bathroom. You flick your eyes back to the ceiling, swiping away the tears that fall anyway. You’re only allowing yourself those two tears because you know you won’t stop once you start. 

Luke can’t see you break. Lily and Posy can’t see you break. 

“Ash said he and KayKay will be here at ten to start decorating. I want to make the girls breakfast, hopefully make up for lost time,” Luke announces out of the bathroom. 

“Good idea,” you nod then will yourself out of bed. You force yourself to not touch your belly, but like every morning, you always do. It’s still a little swollen from the pregnancy and the incision, but you know it’s empty. 

Before you grab your satin robe, you glance at Luke who had his eyes fixed on your hands over your belly. He meets your eyes for a moment, looks like he’s about to say something, but he leaves the room. 

You’re tired of feeling broken and empty.

**

The girls were ecstatic waking up to you and Luke. Posy was situated on Luke’s hip as he made her favorite breakfast and Lily filled you in on what’s going on at school and with Roman. She talked until Ashton and KayKay arrived and your heart had sunk all the way to your stomach because of how much you’ve missed in Lily and Posy’s life the last few weeks. 

You helped where you could with the decorations and then you remembered Posy wanted a dinosaur cake but before you could panic, Cory and Ella arrived with the cake. 

You tried to keep on a brave face throughout the party. You helped Posy open her presents, you talked with your friends and family. You couldn’t help the way your eyes gravitated towards Ella who is about 35 weeks along now. 

It’s another reminder that you aren’t pregnant and that your baby is in critical condition. You shake it off because you have to. Your phone sends you updates on Oliver by the hour, and he’s remained stable for the whole day which is improvement. 

“Thank you so much for doing all of this,” you tell Ashton and KayKay as they’re leaving. Aside from Cory and Ella, they’re the last to leave.

“No problem at all,” Ashton smiles pulling you in for a hug. He kisses the top of your head. “We’re more than happy to help. We’ll plan another one when our boy Oliver is home.”

“We’re all here for you, love you,” KayKay smiles and wraps you in her arms. 

“We love you, too.”

“Unca Ash bye-bye?” Posy asks next to you. She looks up at Ashton with big puppy eyes, her arms up. 

“Yeah, little one. We need to go to bed, just like you!” he lifts her in his arms and blows raspberry kisses on her cheek. “Did you have fun at your party?”

“Yeah!” she claps her hands. 

“Good! Now, you go to bed like mama says and we’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Otay.”

“Love you.”

“Luh you,” she sings and hugs his neck while KayKay takes her hand and kisses her fingers. 

“Let’s go to bed, Pose,” you take her from Ashton then wave one last time as they head out the door. 

“I’ll be outside, babe. My feet are killing me,” Ella tells Cory then she moves to you with Lily’s hand in hers. “We’ll be here bright and early so you can go see how Oliver’s doing.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry we’re--”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s what families do. Try and get some sleep tonight,” Ella touches your arm, her face turns into a frown. “You look exhausted.”

“I’ll try.”

You know you won’t. 

She kisses Posy and gives Lily one more hug then waddles outside to the car. Cory and Luke are cleaning up last call cups and you take your girls to their rooms to do their bedtime routine. You try and keep Posy in your arms as long as you can, hugging her and loving on her. 

She doesn’t even make it halfway through her favorite book, Where the Wild Things Are, and then you take Lily into her room. 

“When can I see my brother?” she asks as you tuck her in. 

“I don’t know yet, sweetheart,” you reply sadly, “he needs to get better first. Dada and I talk about you and Posy all the time to him.”

“You do?” her eyes widen in amazement. “Can I bring him a present?”

“I think he’d like that very much.”

“Mama?” 

“Hm?” you tuck her snuffy and bunny next to her under the covers. 

“I missed you,” she says quietly.

Your heart jolts. You stop fixing up her toys and look down at Lily, your first baby, and she’s playing with the ear of her bunny. The pink bunny she’s had since she first met Luke.

“I miss you, too. I’m so sorry we haven’t been here with you and Posy. Dada and I are going to fix that, okay?” you ask and she nods. You lean down to give her a kiss and a hug, her arms tighten around your neck.

You don’t let go until she does. You shut off her light and close the door, with just a small crack left open. You’re going to talk to Luke, you’ve decided as you head back downstairs. You tried having just one of you go to the hospital while the other stayed home with the girls but neither one of you wanted to be away if Oliver’s health took a turn. 

Just as you’re about to enter the kitchen, you hear your name between Luke and Cory. 

“Y/N’s in bad shape,” Cory says.

“Yeah, I know.”

“This has happened before, where she shuts down and tries to fix it herself but she can’t.”

“I know that, too, considering she’s my wife.” Luke’s voice is clipped, each word sharp as a knife. You’re shocked at it; he and Cory have always been on good terms with each other. 

“Have you tried talking to her about it? Because the way you two were acting tonight was like you didn’t even want to be near each other. She doesn’t need that, not right now when--”

“Look, I know you and Y/N have a close bond. It’s something I’ve tried to understand but I can’t and there’s nothing I can do to change that. It doesn’t bother me as much as it did in the beginning, but I don’t need your advice on how to help my wife.”

What did he mean ‘in the beginning’?

“Yeah? You had no problem taking my help when you broke up with her those three months,” Cory’s voice now has more of an edge to it. 

“I’m surprised you helped in the first place. You think I didn’t notice how you looked at her? We’re handling this on our own.”

“You’re not handling anything! Neither of you are! Yeah, I care about Y/N, that won’t ever change and she’s hurting. Bad. If you won’t do something about it, then I will.”

“The hell you will. I appreciate all you’ve done for my family, but you’re crossing a line.”

“Stop.” 

You whisper the word as you stand in front of them but it catches their attention. Luke’s hands are balled into fists at his sides and Cory’s body is in a similar defense stance. They look to you.

“I am trying, okay? I’m trying to stay strong and hopeful for Oliver. I’m trying to keep on a brave face for Lily and Posy. I’m trying to decipher which feelings I should be feeling or which ones are still phantom pregnancy ones and I don’t even know if those are real. My body has already fallen apart, I don’t need my family to as well.”

“Y/N.”

“I feel horrible that I forgot Posy’s birthday. How could I forget that? My mind is constantly running and I’m so exhausted but I can’t sleep because I’m worrying. Please don’t fight, I can’t handle it.”

“Y/N... what can I do?” Cory asks almost pleadingly. 

Luke scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“I think you should go home. I know you mean well, Cory, but you don’t want to keep Ella waiting in the car.”

“I can--”

“Just go, Cory,” you say in a softer tone. You glance to Luke who is pointedly staring at a spot on the wall then look back to Cory. “Luke and I need to talk.”

Cory keeps staring at you as if checking that you really want him to leave. You nod. He sighs. 

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” he steps away from Luke then grabs your hand. “Call if you need anything.” He gives you a squeeze as you nod at his offer. 

The door closes with a soft snap and it’s just you and Luke now, all of your demons joined together. 

“What did you mean when you said, ‘it didn’t bother you like in the beginning’?” 

“I can’t talk about this now,” he shakes his head and shuffles towards the basement door where his music room is.

Good. It’s soundproof and if there will be yelling, it won’t wake the girls. You follow him downstairs.

“We are going to talk about this now. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells with you and I don’t know what to do! We don’t talk about Oliver, so let’s talk about you and Cory!” you follow him until he turns around quickly. His eyes ablaze.

“No, let’s talk about you and Cory. You’re only talking to him about Oliver. You called him right after everything happened.”

“Because he had Lily! You called everyone else!”

“None of them are in love with you!”

“WHAT?! That doesn’t even make sense!”

“When we started dating, I had a feeling Cory still loved you. I saw it in the way he looked at you and he’s been looking at you that same way now. You don’t talk to me about Oliver, you talk to him. How do you think that makes me feel? Oliver is our son.”

“I try to talk to you! But you always pull away! He doesn’t love me like you think he does, and the fact you’re bringing this up now, years later, is ridiculous.”

“Right,” he snorts, “it’s ridiculous that the ex of my wife who is the father of her child still loves you.”

“Yes!” you screech and fist your hands in the air in frustration. “Do you even hear yourself? He’s engaged to Ella. He’s having a baby with Ella!”

“Then why do you talk to him about Oliver and not me? Huh?” he advances towards you, towering over you. 

“Because I blame myself every day that this happened and you do, too. You can’t even look at me and I…” you choke on your words; Luke’s hardened expression softens as your words sink in. “I feel like I’m losing you.”

Then you’re gasping for air as the tears you’ve been bottling up come crashing down. Your weird emotions, your worry, your fear, everything you’ve been feeling finally falls out in the open. It crashes between you and Luke like a tidal wave. Your body feels weak and you almost collapse onto the small couch but Luke grabs hold of your waist, his other hand cupping your face.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. Look at me, look at me,” he rushes out. “I don’t blame you; I could never blame you. This isn’t your fault; do you hear me?” his eyes have a half-crazed look in them and somehow that grounds you.

“W-why wo-won’t you l-l-look at m-me?” you sob coughing out the words. 

“Oh, baby,” he sighs then awkwardly shifts around until you fall on top of him on the couch. He holds you tight against him. You’re immediate to wrap yourself around him like a pretzel “It’s because I don’t know what to say. I wish I could make this all better, make Oliver healthy, take all your pain away. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now and it kills me to see you like this.”

“I’m a horrible mom,” you cry harshly into his chest. 

Luke pushes you off of him and he’s blurred through your tears. 

“Don’t you ever say that again. You give everything and a million times more in love to our children. I see how hard you’re trying to keep it together, and it kills me.”

“I’m s--”

Luke mashes his lips to yours and you close your eyes. It’s wet and salty, it tastes of heartache and regret and yet his kiss feels like home. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he mumbles. “Stop--” he kisses you again “--just stop--” he kisses you once more with his fingers tangling in your hair. 

You wanted to be closer to him, feel every part of him touch every part of you but you aren’t past the six weeks mark yet. 

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you, too. Let’s take a warm shower and talk things out.”

After a warm shower of kisses and roaming hands, you snuggled against Luke in your bed and tried to come up with a plan where you could be home and at the hospital equally. And you both decided that as soon as Dr. Wilson gives the okay, you’re going to bring the girls to meet him.

When you’ve talked and finalized plans, you gaze at Luke as his eyes start to close. You stroke the slope of his nose, itching to ask him about the fight he had with Cory earlier. You open your mouth to ask and then close it just as quickly. Luke’s eyes open up and he pulls you against him, his fingers tickle the skin of your back. 

“I know you want to ask, so ask.”

“Why do you think Cory is still in love with me?”

He sighs heavily.

“I don’t. I guess I went back to old thoughts and insecurities.”

“So, you thought he still was at one point?”

“I knew he was because he told me. When we weren’t together those three months, he came by and told me how you and Lily were doing. The way he looked at you...it’s how I look at you. And when he tried to help us tonight…” he closes his eyes and shakes his head in embarrassment. “I was stupid. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way for so long,” you caress his bearded cheek.

“I honestly don’t think about it anymore, it just sprung up in my mind tonight,” he sighs. “I appreciate everything Cory’s been doing. I’ll call him tomorrow and apologize.”

“You know how much I love you?” your fingers brush his damp curls from his forehead that you press your lips too. You breathe in his shampoo, his skin soft and his own fingers slip under your shirt to keep caressing your back.

“About as much as I love you.”

He kisses your chin as you kiss his cheek and eventually your lips find each other.

**

It’s been a month and Oliver is still in the hospital. He’s progressing well and getting stronger every day. Posy and Lily were able to come visit him with Michael and Calum in tow. Posy ran to Luke who he picked up and peppered kisses to her cheeks and Lily ran to you with a little gift bag in her hands.

“What’s this?” you ask her as Luke points Oliver out to Posy, Calum, and Michael.

“Unca Mikey said this will help Oliver feel better,” Lily pulls out a small green octopus.

“I read online that it helps them feel comforted if they can’t be held yet,” Michael explains and you give him a smile.

“Can we give it to him mama?” Lily asks setting the bag on the floor.

“I think that’s a great idea,” you kiss her cheek then stand. “Let’s head inside.”

When you’re all gathered around Oliver, Calum lifts Lily in his arms so she can see him from up above and you slip the little octopus inside the round hole. You press it under his arm delicately, his tiny, tiny fingers latch on to one of the tentacles.

“Baby!” Posy points.

“He likes it!” Lily exclaims and Calum grins at her.

“Of course, he does, it’s from you and Po,” Calum says.

“And me,” Michael grumbles stepping a little closer to the incubator. His eyes soften when he looks over his nephew and you can almost sense his sadness.

“Thank you for getting it for him,” you link your arm through his and rest your head against his shoulder. “It was very thoughtful.”

“How long do you think it will be until you can bring him home?” Michael asks watching his tiny chest flutter with each breath.

“Until he’s at a healthy weight and can be taken off the ventilator,” Luke answers.

“Is he going to sleep with me?” Lily asks.

You and Luke share a look. You hadn’t thought about that. Before all of this happened, you still had a lot of time before you got his nursery ready. There is the playroom you could transform into a nursery…

“No, he’ll have his own room, sweets. When he’s home he might cry a lot and wake you up at night.”

“That’s okay. I can help.”

“You’re the best big sister ever, you know that?” Calum looks to her and she smiles sheepishly.

“Would Crystal help us change the playroom into a nursery?” you ask Michael.

“Definitely.”

“I think we should tell them his middle name,” Luke smiles at you.

“What is it?” Calum asks.

“Well, we decided on Michael,” you grin at Michael whose eyes widen. “You jump started us trying for another baby and when we decided on it Oliver sneezed. So, he likes it and it fits him perfectly.”

“Oliver Michael…” Calum tests it out then nods. “Yeah, sounds good to me. If you guys have another one, Calum’s a pretty kick ass name.”

“That means a lot guys, thank you,” Michael shifts his arm so he can pull you in for a hug. He kisses the top of your head.

**

A few weeks later, Ella had her beautiful baby girl, Violetta. You wanted to give them some time alone before bringing the girls over to their house to meet her. Lily sat on the couch with Violetta resting on a pillow on her lap and Posy sat next to her, staring at Violetta with curious eyes. It was odd to see the size difference between her and Oliver.

“She’s beautiful,” you tell Ella. She just took a photo of the three girls together.

“Thank you. I can’t believe she’s finally here,” she sighs tiredly then glances to Luke and Cory who are talking outside. “Cory told me what happened after Posy’s birthday.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “he did, did he?”

“I know you two have a special bond, you have a history and Lily…I’m sorry that things escalated like that. How’s Luke?”

“He’s okay now, we talked about it. Ella, I hope you know that I don’t love Cory how I love Luke.”

“Oh, I know! We’re all a big, blended family, sometimes things get messy but I’ve never had a big family before. I adore you and Luke. I’m not upset at all, I understand.”

“Good. We adore you, too,” you smile then gaze at Violetta. You see more of Ella in her than Cory but she also resembles Lily a little.

“Would you like to hold her?” Ella asks gently.

“I’d love to,” you smile then push her back in her seat. “Rest, I bet you’re still sore. Lily, I’m going to hold your new sister now, okay? Why don’t you and Posy go play for a little bit.”

You lift Violetta off of Lily’s lap and the two girls run into Lily’s room. Violetta rests comfortably in the crook of your arm, she sleeps peacefully as you sway from side to side.

“Hi, pretty girl,” you coo. “You are such a pretty little one, aren’t you? Yeah, you get that from your mommy.”

“How’s Oliver doing?”

“Better, they’re talking about taking him off the ventilator soon and see how he does. He’s gaining more weight, not as fast as they want but it’s something,” you smile.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. And you and Luke?”

“We’re…coping. We’re still trying to find the balance between the hospital and home, but now that Lily’s out of school it’s much easier to come and go.”

“If you and Luke ever want to take a long weekend, the girls can stay here.”

“Oh, no, not with Violetta just being born! I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed—”

“I insist. It will give me practice if we have more kids,” Ella smiles.

“We’ll be outnumbered then,” you laugh. “The kid to adult ratio is even now.”

“You’re right,” Ella laughs. “They’re going to rule our world.”

“I don’t mind, they’re pretty awesome,” you shrug and gaze down at Violetta. You hope you’ll be able to hold Oliver like this soon.

**

Luke’s birthday is approaching and he’s told you repeatedly he doesn’t want a big party or anything this year. The only thing he wants is to hopefully bring Oliver home by the end of the month. You were finally able to hold him and have some skin-to-skin contact.

You sat in the rocking chair next to his incubator and the nurse placed him on your chest. His skin is warm and beneath the starchy hospital smell, he had that natural smell all babies have. You couldn’t help but cry after finally holding him after almost three months of just looking at him. His fingers flexed on your chest before you slipped your pinky between them. He held on tightly.

“Hi baby boy,” you whisper kissing the top of his little hat. “Remember me?”

“How does he feel?” Luke asks, his voice thick with emotion.

“He’s that piece I’ve been missing.”

You could sit there for hours just holding him but you know how badly Luke wanted to hold his son so you changed places. He unbuttoned his shirt and the nurse helped you place Oliver on his chest.

“He’s so small,” Luke smiles fondly. “Hi buddy, I’m your daddy. You’re doing so good getting all big and strong. Your mama and I can’t wait to take you home. We’re going to have a big party, but I promise I’ll make everyone keep it quiet.”

“It’s nice to see you holding him,” you sniff and he starts to rock.

“It was nice to see you hold him, too,” he smiles. “We’ll take him home soon. We’re almost there.”

**

On Luke’s birthday, you and the girls surprised him with breakfast in bed and a brand-new record collection he’s been talking about. Michael and Crystal offered to watch the girls while you visited Oliver. You promised you’d be back by dinner time and you secretly arranged Luke’s favorite food to be delivered.

The two of you sat with Oliver and talked about how far he’s come along. He’s at four pounds already and is now in an open crib rather than an incubator. His organs have developed how they should and he’s had no complications. Dr. Chambers wants him to stay until he’s five pounds just to be sure he’s still gaining weight like he should.

The nurse told you you could try and start breast feeding him soon.

With multiple kisses to Oliver, you left him for the night to continue Luke’s birthday at home. Michael told you the girls wanted to bake a cake and he sent you photos and videos of the whole experience. You couldn’t wait to surprise Luke with the meal.

When you got home you noticed Michael’s car was gone and the house was quiet. There was a big balloon on the kitchen table next to the delivery bag of Luke’s favorite restaurant and the cake the girls made along with a note.

“’Our birthday gift to you is two things: a night alone and a new room. Enjoy your birthday! Love Michael and Crystal,’” Luke reads off from a note. He turns to you with a lopsided smile.

“A new room? What does that mean?” you examine the note.

“It better not be some kinky sex room,” Luke mutters and you nudge him in the shoulder. “Let’s go explore.”

He takes you by the hand and you make your way upstairs to the bedrooms. The light of the playroom is on so you turn in there and gasp. It’s been transformed into Oliver’s room. There’s a beautiful white crib filled with small stuffed animals and a dinosaur blanket. His name is above his crib in block letters and there’s a bookshelf with some trinkets and books.

You page through them and see each one was given to you by your friends with a little message written inside for Oliver. You can’t wait to have Oliver in here, safe and warm.

“I have a feeling Michael is going to spoil Oliver.”

“Probably,” you giggle and turn to face him. He’s looking at the other shelf that holds some clothes and blankets.

His shoulders are broad in his simple black shirt, his curls have gotten curlier because he’s let his hair grow out along with his beard. Your stomach flips as a dirty thought of feeling his beard on the inside of your thighs enters your mind. How’d you get so lucky to have this strong, handsome, talented, kind man to be your husband?

“They’re spoiling us too, you know,” you step closer to him tickling your fingers up and down his arm. He looks down at you. “We have the whole house to ourselves birthday man. What do you want to do first?”

“I’d love to do you.”

You’re both careful as you get reacquainted with each other’s bodies. He removes your clothes carefully and you fall onto your bed, arms stretched out for him. You watch him with hungry eyes as he removes his own clothes then climbs over you. Before he can kiss you, you press your palms against his chest and stomach, feeling his heartbeat and warmth of his body.

“I’ll never get over you like this,” you sigh leaning up to kiss his collarbone.

“I’ll never get over you like this,” he repeats and pushes you back. He falls with you, pulling deep kisses from you before leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your body. He makes sure to kiss at the scar from your C-section. “So beautiful. Every inch of you.”

“Have I told you how much I love your beard?” you ask scratching your nails through the soft hair. “It’s very sexy.”

“Yeah? I don’t look like a lumberjack?”

“You’d make a sexy lumberjack. I wouldn’t complain.”

Soft loving words are exchanged along with wandering hands as he works you up. When you finally connect, you sigh and squeeze your nails into his shoulders. His thrusts are shallow and controlled making sure not to hurt you but also wanting to make this reconnection last.

“Feels so good to be in you again,” he mumbles in your neck. You glide your hands down his back and to the globes of his ass, you give a squeeze and try to make him move faster. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” you sigh turning your head and your tongues connect.

It’s gentle and intimate and your orgasm is slow building but when it washes over you, you’re left in a warmth that you’ve been craving. It’s a warmth only Luke can provide, it’s his love and your love coming together.

Afterwards, you heat up the food and eat it in bed along with the cake. Being cheeky, you swipe the frosting on your finger and drag it onto his stomach.

“Who’s gonna clean that up?”

“Mmm, me,” you straddle his thighs, the shirt of his you wear to bed rides up and you press your hands onto his waist. You lean down and lick the frosting up with your tongue, he sighs heavily beneath you as you lick some more.

When he’s finally clean, your fingers slip beneath the waistband of his boxers continuing your kisses to his half hard cock. You swipe your tongue over his shaft, circling it around his tip and he springs to life.

“Lovie…” he groans.

“Shh,” you hush glancing up at him. His chest is heaving as you take him in your mouth. He groans again, his fingers tangling in your hair but letting you move as you see fit.

You love pleasuring him this way and it’s been so long since you have. You bob up and down, your spit dribbling down his shaft. He moans with each pull of your mouth, his hips rising to meet your motions. You feel his thighs clench so you know he’s close.

“Y/N…baby…lovie,” he pulls you off him then drags you up to him. “Wanna make you come again.”

He pushes himself inside you and you let out a loud moan as you sink down onto him. You start to move but Luke grips the sides of your ass and fucks up into you. Your mouth falls open at the pace, his balls slap your ass and your toes start to curl.

You’re chanting ‘yes’ and his name, the words tumbling over one another and you’re coming again. With a small scream you feel Luke pull out as his release is expelled between you. You’re pulsating and his fingers twiddle with your clit so you’re still coming together.

When you’re both finished, your breathing is hard and you giggle when you open your eyes. His cheeks are a little pink and he has this glazed over expression on his face.

“I think we should go clean up, hm?” his fingers tickle your thigh and you tremble at his touch. You nod.

You used a washcloth to clean up leftover frosting and his orgasm. Luke kisses your neck and your shoulders before he moves to the large tub and turns the taps. When the tub is full of bubbles and the jets are on, he holds you in his arms. The records you bought playing softly in the background.

“This reminds me of when we first started dating,” you say playing with his fingers. “We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”

“If I had my way I’d want to do this all the time with you,” he chuckles in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. “But we have other responsibilities.”

“We’ll be able to bring Oliver home soon, right?”

“Of course, we will. This is just temporary until he’s five pounds. You’re going to be able to breastfeed and he’ll gain that one pound so fast.” He kisses your temple next and you sit in silence for a while.

“Did you imagine any of this happening when you met me at the coffee shop?”

“No, but I wouldn’t want my life any other way. You’ve filled my life with so much adventure and love. I never pictured myself with three kids, but I couldn’t imagine my life without them, or you. Did you imagine our life like this?”

“No,” you smile against his arm and kiss it. “But it’s the best. I’m thankful Oliver has come along this far, and Posy is our rambunctious girl and Lily is starting to become her own person now. It’s all happening so fast but with you beside me…I don’t have enough words to describe it. You’re the love of my life.”

“And you’re the love of mine,” he collects you in his arms. “We’ll bring our boy home soon.”

**

On August first, you were told you could bring Oliver home. You couldn’t even believe it but when Oliver’s NICU team and Dr. Chambers and Dr. Wilson showed up with balloons and a farewell card you started to cry. You hugged and thanked them all from the bottom of your heart and promised to keep in touch.

Oliver would need frequent doctor visits until he was about three to check his prognosis but you were so happy to bring him home finally. Luke called everyone while you got Oliver settled in his carrier, you made sure to put his octopus next to him. You sat in back with him while Luke drove, you couldn’t stop looking at Oliver. He’s grown so much and he’s healthy and strong.

You notice all of the cars parked along the street and you’re welcomed with your family as you and Luke enter your home. There’s a banner above welcoming Oliver home finally. You appreciated them all keeping their distance and not overcrowding Oliver, but you were happy they were all there to welcome your sone home.

Lily and Posy couldn’t stop looking at him in his carrier while he slept and Posy kept bringing some toys to show him. Everyone stayed for another hour and then you had to feed Oliver. He squirmed and cried because you woke him but you were on a tight feeding schedule so he would stay on track. Lily and Posy watched curiously as you breastfed. Luke watched fondly and then he told the girls their lunch was ready.

All four of you stayed around Oliver until it was time for him to go to bed—then you’d be feeding him in a few hours. Posy and Lily snuggled with you and Luke on the couch as you all watched a movie, their giggles at the animations jokes filled your heart with joy. Luke reached over and took your hand so he could kiss it, mumbling an ‘I love you.’

You were finally a family of five, home and safe.

***

Taglist:  @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicyca @notinthesameguey @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sarcastically-defensive17​ @another-lonely-heart​ @devilatmydoor​ @thatscooibaby​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @dead-and-golden​ @mymindwide​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @karajaynetoday​ @quasighost​ @i-like-5sos​ @creampiecashton​ @calpops​ @littledrummeraussie​ @sexgodashton​ @f-mu​ @mystic-232

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Pt 14

Steven Hyde x Read

Happy Holidays and New Years everyone! I can’t believe we’re already 14 parts in. I’m so glad you guys are loving the story! Tag list is open if you want to be a part of it :)

Beep, beep, beep.

           The sound of the heart monitor was the only noise resourcing from the room. Hyde sat beside y/n, watching as her chest gently rose and fell, and listened to Red interrogate Eric from the hallway.

           “What do you mean you don’t know what happened?!” Red asked him in his usual gruff tone.

           “I don’t, Dad!” Eric defended. “All I saw is that she was sick and she was trying to get Fez and Hyde to stop fighting and she just dropped!”

           “And you didn’t catch her?” Red fumed. “She could’ve gotten hurt!”

           “Well, I didn’t expect her to fall!” he responded.

           “Red, honey, your yelling isn’t making anything easier,” Kitty said quietly.

           “For me it is!”

           “Red,” she said more sternly.

           “Well, have they figured out what’s wrong with her?” the worried father asked impatiently.

           “No, they haven’t,” Kitty answered calmly.

           “What’s taking them so long?” he grumbled. “We’ve been here for hours!”

           Kitty blinked at her husband. “We’ve been here for twenty-five minutes.”

           “And our daughter has been unconscious for forty! My little girl is in there now and I want answers, dammit!”

           “Red, she’s fine,” Kitty said, trying to soothe him. “She’s tucked in a bed right now with monitoring and her breathing is normal. They drew her blood and we’re just waiting on the test results.”

           “They need to come faster!” he shouted, causing Kitty to frantically look around and smile nervously as her coworkers stared at them.

           “Hey, Mom, if Dad has another heart attack, at least it’ll save us another ambulance bill since we’re already at a hospital,” Eric said grinning, sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

           “Can it, dumbass!” Red snarled.

           Inside the room, y/n groaned, hearing the arguing from outside and slowly opened her eyes, seeing nothing but white. Her head felt someone was taking a jack hammer to her skull. Steven noticed and waited anxiously by her side.

           “Why do they have to be so loud?” she mumbled.

           Steven sighed in relief and grabbed her hand. “Are you okay? How’re you feeling?”

           “I think so,” she croaked. “I feel like crap and I’m tired.”

           Hyde chuckled softly and leaned over, kissing her head softly. “You scared the crap out of me.”

           “What happened? Am I in the hospital?” she asked, not letting go of his hand.

           Hyde paused, searching her face. “You don’t—? You fainted and hit the ground pretty hard. They think you may have gotten a concussion.”

           “Well, that explains my headache,” she grumbled and rubbed her head. She looked at Steven who was still looking at her with worried eyes. “Where is everyone?”

           “Your parents are out in the hall with your brother, Fez is here but went to find ice cream.” He rolled his eyes at the thought but continued. “And everyone else is on their way.”

           “How long have I been out?”

           “About forty-five minutes. I’m glad you’re okay,” he answered and pulled her hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss.

           If it wasn’t for her head screaming at her, her heart would be fluttering away like butterflies, but all she wanted to do was numb the pain. A sharp pain surged through her skull, causing her to hiss.

           “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked her.

           She tried to nod, but that caused more pain to her skull. “My head hurts. A lot.”

           “That’s what happens when you smack your head on concrete,” he answered. “You have a pretty good-sized knot on your head.”

            Y/n reached up and felt her scalp until she felt a painful bump behind the side of her head. She winced at her own touched. “Ow.”

           “Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” Hyde chuckled. “I’m going to go get something to drink. Do you want anything?”

           Her stomach churned at the thought of liquids and scrunched up her nose. “No, but I probably should. I’ll take a ginger ale if they have any.”

           “You got it, doll,” he said and walked out just as the doctor was stepping in.

           “Good afternoon, Miss Forman,” the middle-aged, dark haired man said. “I’m Dr. Kipp. I’ve been looking over you while you were out. How are you feeling?”

           “Not gonna lie, Doc, I feel pretty lousy,” Y/n responded. “I’ve been sick for the last couple of days. Not being able to keep anything down, I’m achy all over…I’m starting to wonder if I have the stomach flu or something. On top of that, my head is killing me.”

           “Well, you passed out due to your blood pressure dropping which caused a lack of blood to the brain, but it’s definitely not the stomach flu,” Dr. Kipp answered casually, setting down his clipboard as he went over to the sink to wash his hands.

           “How do you know that?” Y/n questioned him.

           “Well, it can’t be because you’re pregnant.”

                                                  --Time Skip—

           “How’s y/n doing?” Donna asked as she got to the waiting room, flowers in hand.

           “Oh, that’s so sweet that you got her flowers!” Kitty gushed, making Donna smile. “And she’s awake. The doctor is in there right now with her.”

           “Oh, good,” she said and sat down next to Fez who was quietly eating ice cream. “Where did you get the ice cream?”

           “Oh, I told them that y/n was my wife and they let me get ice cream!” he replied stoically.

           “So, you’re telling me that you hit on her and now you’re telling people she’s your wife?” Hyde seethed, holding a cup of coffee in one and a ginger ale can in the other.

           “Can you kids not fight for five damn minutes please?” Red asked impatiently. “It’s bad enough that we’re here, I don’t want to have to hear about your petty drama.”

           “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the reason she’s here in the first place,” said Fez.

           “Why would it be your fault?” Kitty asked Hyde.

           “It’s not!” Hyde replied. “He’s just saying crap so I can knock his teeth in.”

           Kitty and Red squinted their eyes at the teens for a moment. “What on earth is going on here?” Kitty asked, growing frustrated.

           “Nothing,” Hyde answered through gritted, glaring daggers at Fez.

           Fez returned the glare. “You know, Hyde, I often wonder what it would be like to hook up with my best friend’s sister. Don’t you?”

            Hyde’s expression hardened. “It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital because when I break your bones, you’re already here!” Hyde aggressively moved towards Fez, but was stopped short by Eric getting in between them.

           “Okay! That’s enough,” he sang-song. “Hyde, why don’t you sit over there quietly and don’t beat up Fez.” He turned to Fez. “And Fez? Shut the hell up.”

           Hyde jerked himself away. “I’m going to go give this to y/n.”

           Back in the room, y/n felt like the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. “I’m…what?”

           “Pregnant,” he responded in a faux enthusiastic voice. “That was through the blood test. We’re going to have you take urine test as well. So,” he pulled out a plastic cup. “You’re going to pee in this cup and when you’re finished, pull the string and a nurse will come in and collect it. Then, we’ll do a full examination on you to make sure your head is okay.”

           Y/n nodded numbly and mindlessly grabbed the cup in her hand. “Okay…”

           “Probably not the news you were expecting, huh?” he asked.

           Y/n chuckled weakly. “No. Not at all.”

           “Well, I’ll be back soon with your test results.”

           He walked out the door, leaving y/n alone in the room. Her hands felt numb and she felt like there was static all around her. How could she be pregnant? How did she let this happen? And oh God, what was she going to say to Steven? Her eyes widened. Her parents?!

           A sudden heavy weight was shattered onto her chest and her eyes began to water. How was she going to tell everyone? What if her dream came true and she truly was alone? Could she raise a baby on her own? Where would she live? What job would she have to do to support her baby? Was she even going to be a good mom? Will her children grow up to be decent people? What if they’re born with health conditions? Or they fall ill? Can she even count on herself to get out of bed at 2 AM to go to the 24 hour store to buy cough medicine when they get sick? How do you even change a poopy diaper? How is she going to react when they’re teenagers and they’re learning how to drive or get their first boyfriend or girlfriend? What kind of mom was she going to be? What kind father was Steven going to be? Will he even stick around?

           With all these questions swimming through her head, she didn’t notice Steven walk back in. “I got that ginger ale you—hey, you okay?”

           Y/n snapped her head up as she was yanked out of her thoughts, which she silently thanked heaven above for. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

           “You sure?” he asked as he set down the drink on the table next to her. “You don’t look fine. In fact, you look kinda pale.”

           “Yeah, um,” she stuttered, swallowing hard and waved her hand casually. “The doctor says I passed out due to lack of blood to the brain. Blood tests came back normal, but he wants me to take a urine test just to be sure.” Not a total lie. Just left out a part.

           “Oh, okay. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

           “I think I got it,” she answered truthfully and slowly got out of bed, barley able to feel her legs. She ambled her way to the bathroom, dragging the IV along with her. She felt Steven’s stare burning a hole in the back of her head, but she couldn’t think of what he was thinking right now. She couldn’t. It would drive her to an anxiety attack.

           She closed the door quietly and baby stepped her way to the toilet. She passed by the mirror and did a double take to her reflection. Her ponytail was a complete rats nest, her eyes had dark circles under them, and her normally rosy cheeks had lost all color. She looked half dead and she wanted to cringe away. She turned her head to the side and saw the swelled up bump on her skull. She winced when she saw it and let out a sigh. She really wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep for 72 hours.

           She made her way to the toilet and shakily did her business in the cup. When she was finished, she left in on the counter in the bathroom and pulled the string. After she was finished washing up, she walked out to meet Steven sitting in the chair.

           “Hey,” he said gently whispered.

           “Hey,” she answered in the same manner. “Where is everyone?”

           “In the waiting room. Do you want to see them?”

           Her heart dropped, but she needed to play it cool. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

           He nodded and opened the door to call them in. She got back in bed with Hyde’s help, making sure her IV wouldn’t get pulled out of her arm.

           “Oh, y/n,” Kitty sobbed and rushed over to y/n who was sitting up fully and wrapped her arms around her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

           Y/n barley reciprocated the hug. “I’m okay, Mom.”

           “When we saw you being loaded up into the ambulance, I thought I was going to die right there,” Kitty responded, stepping away from her daughter.

           “I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

           “What did the doctor say?” she pried.

           “Uh…they don’t know yet,” Y/n replied. “They’re taking a urine sample.”

           “Well, a person fainting is never a good thing,” Kitty stated matter-of-factly. “It means your blood pressure dropped and you weren’t getting enough blood flow to the brain. Those things just don’t happen.”

           “I know. They’re running tests right now,” Y/n said and leaned back against the pillows.

           “When will we find out?” Red pushed.

           “I don’t know,” Y/n responded growing annoyed. “I don’t know anything.” Lie, lie, LIE.

           “Well, we better find out soon,” Red said. “This place gives me the creeps.”

           “If you wanna leave, you can. I’m a big girl, I can leave on my own,” Y/n responded.

           “No, no, I wanna be here in this room when the doctor comes and tells us what’s wrong,” Kitty said stubbornly.

          Y/n’s heart and stomach dropped. There was no way anyone was going to be in this room when the doctor came back with the results. Positive or not, she didn’t need her parents asking questions and then finding out about her and Steven.

           She kept her face and voice as calm as possible. “No, no it’s okay. Really. I don’t know if I want everyone in here anyway. In fact, it’s probably best that I’m alone.”

           “Oh, nonsense. I—”

           “Kitty, if she wants to be alone, then we’ll leave her alone. She’s an adult now. She doesn’t need us in here,” Red said, signaling to his wife that they leave. “Besides, the Packers’s game is on and I wanna go home.”

           Kitty sighed, annoyed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll leave, but I want to hear everything, missy.”

           Y/n’s eyes widened a fraction and her heart beat violently against her blood cage. She could practically feel her blood pumping through her veins. She nodded numbly. “Okay.”

           Kitty nodded and kissed y/n on the head before leaving. She felt some tension leave her body as she watched her parents leave. She leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes, feeling completely drained.

           “Are you okay?” Donna asked.

           “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Just…feeling depleted.”

           “Well, you can’t go to sleep yet,” Hyde said. “You might have a concussion.”

           “I want sleep,” she whined.

           “I know, but I’d rather you be exhausted than not wake up at all,” he responded.

           She glared at him through half open eye lids and grumbled, “I hate you.”

           He chuckled lightly. “I know.”

           The door to the room opened revealing Kelso, Fez and Jackie.

           “Hey, y/n, how are you feeling?” Kelso asked.

           “Bout as great as I look,” she replied, a weak smile playing her lips.

           “So, super sexy,” Fez responded cheekily but that smile quickly faded when Hyde punched his shoulder. “Ow.”

           “Remember: Respect,” was all Hyde said before sitting back down.

           “I heard what happened,” Kelso responded. “And Brooke made me bring you these.” He handed her a small bouquet of yellow daisies and lilies.

           Y/n chuckled, accepting the flowers. “Tell Brooke I said thank you for the nice gesture. And tell her to bring the baby around soon. I want to meet my niece.”

           Kelso’s face brightened. “You…you really think of her that way?”

           Y/n nodded. “Why wouldn’t I? We’ve all been best friends since we were little and it only makes sense that we look at each other more than just friends now.”

           “Like lovers?” Fez asked her seductively.

           “Do you have a death wish?” Hyde spat.

           “Okay, Steven that’s enough,” Y/n said as sternly as she could. “And Fez, shut up.”

           Fez pouted and went and sat in the corner of the room.

           “You know what? My mind is made up,” Kelso said. Y/n stared at him curiously, everyone joining in.

           “Kelso, in order for your mind to be made up, you have to have a brain,” Eric commented.

           Kelso shot Eric a glare before turning his head back towards y/n and Hyde. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Betsy lately and Brooke is really starting to trust me.”

           “Okay, and that makes up your mind for?” Y/n asked him.

           “Hang on, just let me finish,” he said smiling. “Brooke is starting to trust me so much she’s even allowing me to pick the godparents.”

           “Oh, that’s great!” Y/n gleefully responded. “I’m so happy for you.”

           “And there’s only one rule. It can’t be Fez,” Kelso added on.

           Fez nodded. “That is a good rule.”

           “Godparents?” Donna mumbled to Eric. “Like we need any more responsibilities.”

           “I know,” Eric whispered back, rolling his eyes. “Such a burden.”

           “I’ve been thinking about it a lot and it’s a big deal. So,” Kelso said, stepping closer to the bed where Eric and Donna sat. “Eric, Donna.”

           “Uh, oh,” Eric sang-song.

           “Please scooch over so I can ask Hyde and y/n if they’ll be Betsy’s godparents?”

           Y/n looked at Hyde with excited eyes. “Really?!”

           “What the hell?!” Eric exclaimed.

           “Hyde and y/n?” Donna asked insulted.

           “You picked Hyde and y/n?” Jackie asked, equally insulted. “Why didn’t you ask someone else? Like me?”

           “Because you’re single,” Kelso deadpanned.

           Jackie crossed her arms. “And?”

           “And you need to be in a relationship to be a godparent,” Kelso responded slowly like he was scared to continue speaking. “That’s why they call it godparents. You can’t be single and be a godparent. That’s just stupid.” He laughed and rolled his eyes.

           Jackie stared at him in disbelief, trying to make sense of what he said. “That barley makes any sense, you moron.”

           “Hey, hey, hey, he chose us. Let him speak,” Y/n said not trying to contain her glee. “Not that I’m questioning your choice because, you know, you chose us, but why us?”

           “Because I really trust you and I think you’d be fantastic with Betsy,” he responded sweetly.

           “And you don’t think we won’t?” Eric asked.

           “Yeah, you don’t trust us?” Donna chimed in.

           “Well, to be fair, I’ve seen you drop almost everything you’ve held in your hands,” Kelso responded. “And you’ve never really taken care of a baby.”

           “Yes we have!” Donna defended. “Remember that time last year when Laurie had to babysit that one baby and I ended up changing her diaper when she couldn’t? I was a freakin’ natural!”

           “Yeah, I mean, if you gave me the honor of being godmother, I would be popular, head cheerleader, and voted best legs. This would give me another title,” Jackie argued.

           “Would you guys relax?” Hyde asked everyone. “It’s not that big of deal.”

           “Yeah, it’s not like he’s shunning you guys,” Y/n responded.

           “You’re all still going to be aunts and uncles,” Kelso defended.

           “Yeah, that’s easy for you to say,” Jackie grumbled and joined Fez in the back.

           “We can be good godparents,” Eric argued. “You can trust us.”

           “Eric, remember Goldie, the goldfish?” Y/n asked.

           “Yeah,” he responded.

           “Remember how you killed Goldie by taking him out of the fish bowl?”

           “I needed to hug something,” Eric answered coldly. “Besides, I’m not going to have to flush a baby down the toilet!”

           “Either way, man, thanks. I’m honored,” Hyde said and clapped his hand with Kelso’s and pulled him in for a bro hug.

           “If I have another kid, I’ll make you two godparents. I promise,” Kelso said.

           Eric huffed. “Yeah, yeah.”

           “Alright, I have to take a leak,” Hyde announced.

           “And I’m going to go find some more ice cream,” Fez said.

          “Can you guys make sure y/n doesn’t fall asleep?” Hyde continued.

           “You got it pal!” Kelso responded and watched as Hyde and Fez walked out.

           “I’m not a child,” Y/n responded once they were out of ear shot. “I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you.”

           “Kelso!” Fez called out and barged back into the room. “Kelso, come quick! There’s a hot nurse fight happening downstairs! Hurry before it ends!”

           “See ya,” Kelso said and scrambled out the room, leaving Jackie, Eric, and Donna alone.

           “Yeah, I’m leaving too,” Jackie said pouting. “I don’t want to sit here and be reminded that I wasn’t picked for godparent. I may have to do some shopping therapy to get over it. Bye!” She squealed and walked out, leaving just the twins and Donna.

           “Do you need anything sis?” Eric asked. “Some water? Fluff up your pillows? Relinquish your title of godparent over to me?”

           Y/n gave her twin a look before scoffing. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

           “Fine. I’ll just go see if they have any teddy bears in the gift shop that reads ‘Not Quite the Best Godparents’ and maybe it’ll be tear absorbent!” With that, he stormed out the room, leaving Elena in stunned silence.

           Donna rolled her eyes. “I better go after him. Last time I left him alone while he was upset, he thought I didn’t care about him anymore and didn’t speak to me for three days.”

           She left, leaving y/n alone in the room. Again. She leaned back once more, enjoying the silence, but now that she was alone again, she realized just how loud the silence was. All she could think was pregnant, pregnant, pregnant.    

           “What am I going to do?” she mumbled to herself.

           The door to the room opened again; Dr. Kipp entering once more.

           “Hi Miss. Forman,” Dr. Kipp greeted. “We got your test results back.”

           She gulped. “And?”

           He sat down on the stool next to her bed and looked her in the eyes. “It’s positive.”

           Her heart dropped completely, and it felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “I’m pregnant?”

           “I know this is a lot to take in, but we need to gather some more information from you so we can determine how far along you are. But first the basics. What’s your full name?”

           “Y/f/n y/m/n Forman.”

           He scratched her answer down on his clipboard. “Birthday?”

           “May 18, 1959.”

           “So, that makes you eighteen years old, correct?”

           Y/n nodded.

           “Okay, and your current address?”

           “416 Edlebrook Ave.”

           “Beautiful,” the doctor responded and looked up from his clipboard. “Do you know who the father is?”

           Tears started to burn her eyes as she nodded her head. “I do.”

           “What’s his name?”

           “Steven James Hyde.”

           “When was your last menstrual cycle?”

           “Somewhere in mid September.”

           “And today is October 19,” he said more to himself. “So, you are about three weeks along. Now, I’m going to give this information to the nurse and have her give you a pamphlet and a referral to an OB/GYN. I’ll have them give you a call to set up an appointment. Do we have permission to leave a message with someone if you’re not available?”

           “Uh…no, just me is fine, thanks. I’m not ready to tell people yet.”

           He nods. “Understandable. Now, let’s look at your head and see how you’re doing.” As he took out a flashlight and started examining her eyes, Hyde walked back in the room.

           “Hey, Doc. How’s she doing?” he asked.

           “Well, I’m not seeing any signs of concussion, so that’s good.” He turned off the light and started feeling around underneath her jaw to the back of her head where he felt her bump. She winced and he took note of it. “She seems great besides that nasty bump. Just put some ice on it if it starts to hurt and take some aspirin for the pain. Otherwise, you’re good to go.”

           “What about her test results?”

           Dr. Kipp glanced at y/n and saw her terrified look. He glanced back at Steven who looked worried. “Test results came back normal and she’s perfectly healthy.” He noticed Steven visibly relax. “Anything else, she may discuss with you at her discretion.”

           Y/n mouthed a thank you to the doctor who gave her a subtle nod and finished writing his notes on his clipboard. “I’ll have a nurse discharge you. You have a good rest of your night and rest up.”

           Y/n nodded. “Thank you.”

           With that, he left the room, leaving y/n wanting to vomit—and not from feeling sick this time. She continued to sit in her bed, not being able to properly process the information. Her world felt fuzzy and she felt like she was going to pass out for a second time. She could hear Steven talking to her, but it was all garbled and muffled as if she were underwater. Was her dream right? Was she going to be disowned by her family? Is she going to disappoint her mother? Oh no, how is Red going to take this? She and Steven are dead. Dead like road kill.

           She heard Steven’s muffled voice again, but this time louder. She blinked and looked up at Steven. “I’m sorry, what?”

           He knitted his eyebrows at her. “I said, are you okay? Do you need help getting dressed?”

           She shook her heavy head and slowly slid out of bed. “I should be okay.” She untied her hospital gown, allowing it to pool around her feet. She shivered as the cold air hit her bare skin and turned to see her clothes balled up in a plastic bag. She slowly started dressing herself and felt Hyde’s eyes burn into her the whole time.

           She finally looked up at him as she finished putting on her pajama top. “What’s up?”

           “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting different.”

           She nodded, not being able to look him in the eye. “Yeah, I think so. Just still not feeling well and feeling a little disoriented from the fall. But I think I’m good.”

           He eyed her for a minute. “Okay,” he responded slowly. “As long as you don’t pass out on me again.”

           She chuckled. “I think I’ll be okay.”

           A knock came at the door and the nurse walked in. “Okay, Miss Forman. Here are your doctor’s notes to help you feel better. Plenty of rest and fluids. And—” She noticed Steven listening to her and she looked back down at the pamphlet in her hands and slid the doctor’s notes over it. “Here’s everything you else need to know. If you have any questions, there’s a number you can call and if you don’t get better or start to feel worse, come on back in.”

           Y/n thanked her and quietly gathered the rest of her stuff and headed out with Steven. He guided her slowly into the camino and started up the car. She rested her elbow on the windowsill of the door and leaned her head into her hand, feeling like sleep will overtake her any minute now. Hyde placed a gentle hand on her thigh and lovingly rubber circles with his thumb.

           “Let’s get you back in bed, yeah?”

           She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, not being able to form words in fear she would start crying.

           The drive home was deathly quiet as rain started to fall. The only noise emitting was outside as the rain fell onto the windshield. Not being able to handle the silence, Hyde reached over and turned on the radio, allowing the music to softly fill the car. It eased the tension slightly, allowing y/n to relax.

           He pulled up in front of a supermarket and put the car in park.

           “What are we doing here?” she croaked.

           “Do you want some soup?”

           She gave him a small smile. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

           He nodded and got out of the car, leaving it on so the heater would warm up y/n. Ever since the hospital, she’d been cold and not able to heat up as fast as she normally would. She shivered, realizing she didn’t bring a jacket or her robe. She looked around the car and noticed a blanket behind the driver’s seat. She wrapped her cold fingers around the soft material and realized it was their sex blanket. She crunched up her nose a little, noticing some stains. “Ugh, gross,” she murmured before placing the clean side on her. The stench of sex filled her nostrils, but luckily it didn’t upset her stomach more than it already was.

           She waited in the car for a few more minutes with the blanket pulled up to her chin and listened to the music. Paul Anka came on, singing (You’re) Having My Baby.

           “Would you look at that,” she grumbled and changed the station. Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely was on playing. “What the…” she grumbled and changed it to another station. A country song this time was playing. One that y/n didn’t know, but it was better than the others, so she left it on. She listened to the lyrics as they went:

           The girls in New York City, they all march for women's lib And better homes and garden shows, the modern way to live And the pill may change the world tomorrow, but meanwhile, today Here in Topeka, the flies are a buzzin' The dog is a barkin' and the floor needs a scrubbin' One needs a spankin' and one needs a huggin' Lord, one's on the way

Oh gee, I hope it ain't twins, again.

             “Are you kidding me?” She reached over and turned off the radio, choosing to sit in silence.

           Just then the driver’s door opened and Steven clambered inside with a container of chicken soup in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. “Here you go, doll.”

           “Awe, thank you, baby.” She grabbed the container from his hands and allowed the warmth to thaw her icy ones.

           “You turned off the music?” he questioned and started to beat the pack against the heel of his hand.

           “Yeah, there was nothing good on.” Technically not a lie.

           “Ah, makes sense,” he responded and noticed the blanket. He snorted teasingly. “Cold?”

           “No, no, I’m burning up actually. The blanket was so I could feel like I’m in hell.”

           He threw his add head back laughing. “Take it easy, Firecracker. If I hada known you were cold, I would’ve given you my jacket.”

           She smirked at him. “Nah, this is fine. Thanks. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to be cold.”

           “I’ll be fine,” he said and stuck a cigarette between his lips.

           Y/n’s eyes widened and quickly ripped it from him mouth.

           “What the hell, y/n?”

           “Uh, I’m still not feeling well enough. I don’t want hurl all over your car.”

           He scrunched up his nose at her. “Fine. Fair point. But I’m smoking when I get back!”

            Y/n shook her head at him. “What a rebel.”

           “Damn straight,” he responded and turned the car on. “Don’t forget who you’re with.”

           “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

           He smiled at her before backing up and driving them home for the night.

                                                 --Time Skip—

           The next couple of days were brutal for y/n. Kitty wouldn’t stop interrogating her and y/n finally told something made up to get her off her back. Kitty didn’t believe her, but she backed off knowing she’ll be back again. She wanted so badly to tell Steven about her pregnancy, but every time she tried, it would come out a different sentence.

         “I’m,” she would start, but right when she would look into his baby blue eyes, she would panic. “hungry. I’m hungry, starving! Can we go get something to eat?”

         He would give her a weird look before agreeing and leaving to buy her food.

           On top of that, morning sickness would rear its ugly head and she would end up being sick at the most random of times. She would be sitting down in the basement with her friends, feeling fine, but then she would feel her lunch coming back up and she would have to haul ass to the nearest restroom.

           Everyone was worried about her, trying to get her to go back to the doctor, but she already knew. She had secretly made the appointment with the OB/GYN and wasn’t going to be able to see her until two weeks out. Until then, she had to keep lying and making excuses.

           “It’s been almost a week,” Eric said one afternoon as they were all huddled into the basement. “You really should go back to the doctor.”

                      “I’d rather not,” Y/n said. “Going to the doctors for every sniff and cough is not my thing.”

                     “But it’s not just a sniffle or a cough,” he pointed out. “It’s like one minute you’re fine and then the next you’re throwing up Mom’s tuna casserole.”

                  “That was a long night,” she countered, remembering that night as she had to lay on the floor next to the toilet for hours because she couldn’t stop throwing up.

             “Well, can you still keep down fluids?” Donna asked. “Like, chicken broth, orange juice, and tea?”

           “Yeah, those are fine,” Y/n responded. “I just can’t seem to digest solid foods. But I was able to drink apple juice the other day with some bread. I’m also not nauseas all day anymore. I think I’m getting better.”

             “Well, if you’re feeling better, wanna go shoot some hoops?” Kelso asked.

             “Nah, but you guys can,” Y/n responded. “Me and Donna can just sit and ogle.”

             “I knew you were checking me out,” Kelso purred and rubbed his chest.

             “Not you, you dork,” Y/n said. “Hyde and Eric.”

                      “You ogle at me?” Eric said disgusted. “That’s gross.”

             “No! Donna is, you dumbass!” Y/n said and stood up while Eric laughed. “Moron.”

             She walked outside to the driveway with everyone behind her. As they reached the driveway, the boys split up into their group while Donna and y/n moved away to watch from the porch.

             “So, Hyde, how’s it been with you and y/n?” Kelso asked under his breath, making sure the girls couldn’t hear.

             “You know, things are going good, but with her being sick this past week, it’s been kinda hard not getting any action,” Hyde responded.

             “Ewwwww! Could you please not?” Eric exclaimed. “I told you I don’t wanna hear it.”

             “I know, that’s why I did it,” Hyde laughed and tossed the ball to Eric. “Your play. Go.”

             The girls watched from the porch, admiring the way their men looked. Y/n wanted so badly to jump Hyde’s bones, but didn’t want to puke in the middle of it and ruin the mood. She and Donna chatted idly as they watched their men get sweaty and hot.

             “Look, I know he’s your brother, but damn does he look hot when he’s all concentrated,” Donna swooned as she watched Eric block Fez’s slam dunk.

             “Really? I think he looks constipated,” Y/n laughed.

             In the middle of the play, Eric turned, facing them while trying to block Kelso from making his shot. The concentration he wore on his face made Donna drool but laugh.

             “You’re right, he does look constipated,” she agreed and laughed even more.

             “I know you don’t think so, but Steven just looks so good when he’s moving around like that,” Y/n said and stared at her boyfriend. “I mean, when he gets all sweaty and flushed, it makes me want him so bad.”

             Donna chuckled. “So, how have you guys been?”

             “We’ve been good. You know with me being this sick, we haven’t really gotten the time to do it or anything.”

             “From the looks of it earlier and hearing Eric scream ‘ew’ makes me believe that Hyde already said something like that to him,” Donna laughed once more.

             Y/n chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

             They fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the four boys play basketball. The entire time, y/n’s heart was hammering against her chest, debating on telling Donna right there. She couldn’t take keeping a secret this big from her best friend. Besides, if she wasn’t going to tell someone soon, she was going to explode.

             “Donna,” she said shakily. “I have something to tell you.”

             Seeing how serious her tone was, Donna perked up. “What?”

             “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to freak out. Because if you do, everyone will hear it and I can’t have that right now.”

             Donna’s heart started beating wildly against her own ribcage, now nervous and worried. “Okay?”

           “And whatever happens, promise me you’ll still be my friend?”

           “Of course! What’s going on?”

             Y/n took a deep breath before looking Donna in the eye. At that moment, she wanted to crawl up in a bawl and just cry. But she knew she couldn’t; She had to be strong. So instead she let out a shaky breath.

             “I’m pregnant.”

@lieswithoutfairytales​ @mdittyz123​ @n-dg-wm​ @undead-sierra​ @random-thoughts-003​ @taysirene​ 

[aliciazamfroma2z]

Sharing a few of my poems to jump start my tumblr participation;)

The Power of a demisexual

Appearing prudish, she manifests into a wildfire burning at a festival.

Love is her addiction, describes herself as a demisexual.

When she gets her manicured claws into you,

Your appetite for her spreads faster than the 24-hour flu.

What can we expect a defenseless man to do!

She ignores you until you prove to her that you're a worthy delicacy.

Bringing out emotions w/words that haven't been discovered even through entelechies.

Once the fasting ends, she offers the unquenchable feast of feasts.

What drives you mad is how this little woman has you doing backflips.

No one has had that power over your heart cuz you've held such a firm grip.

Hold on tight and enjoy the ride.

At this point, you will hand over a paper bag filled with your pride.

Things in the rearview mirror may be further than u dream or closer than u dare

The closer I get to home, the further away i feel.

The more money they have, the less they pay for-You know the deal.

The puppy is so ugly, that he's cute.

He's so impatient that it's no longer worth the commute.

His mistress is too dirty for a Golden Shower.

He's too clean to tell her off with profanity.fucking coward.

Baby it feels so wrong that it must be right.

Either way I'm gonna keep it tight and write it out til two wrongs make us right.

My directional skills are bad so if I say go right, you should go left

And you'll be surprised to know that left is right all along. R u deaf?

I study you so much that I don’t need to cheat.

If I'm with u,don't insult me by assuming I'm capable of deceit.

Your silent treatment is giving me a headache.

But silence is better than the alternative if it's going to be fake.

Why do you need to hate me to love me?

Is this your version of fight or flee?

Are you afraid that you will love me so much that I’ll hate you?

You want me so bad,I think I'll just rape you.

SO tired that I can’t sleep.

Yet, 8 hours in bed awake with you, I feel Ive aged beyond 70.

I’m smart enough to know when they think I'm stupid.

So don't treat me like I'm a new kid.

In fact, by letting them think they are smarter

I'm in the position of power.

They think I'm so sweet that they are unprepared for sour.

Pity Sex?

Is this the new way to get sex

from "your complicated ex"?

Or is this the guilt u put on the naive girl that's next?

"I haven't had sex in months, I'm going to explode!

The girls aren't giving out,

maybe it's the corona virus over load.

Or am I so ugly that they overlook the depth in my soul?"

"No, you're cute until you open your mouth.

With your lack of chivalry, you'd be shot if you tried that down south.

I have been celibate for years and I'm proud.

It'll be a true gentleman to get inside of me.

Reserved for someone who's kind, stimulates my mind,

connecting spiritually.

I keep it real, you call me a tease.

I'm blunt after I roll one, u say I'm mean.

If you want the truth,

in all honesty,

Don't mistake it for the third degree...

I politely suggest that you keep your shenanigans where they ought to be.

I don't do small talk since you can't acknowledge that I'm out of your league..

My advice is priceless but I'll give it to you on sale, for a small fee.

5 minutes for just $100 plus tip please.

Most importantly,

After im done,ill be quick to leave.

No copyright or you will be bargaining more than just a plea.

Peace, love and hopefully a new residency

in a town far, far away from me. "

Sincerely, your barking up the wrong tree. 🌴

[lysmune]

demon’s kiss

24/7

(OM! Demons/Reader)

i: Satan -  5:35AM

      Satan’s kisses are sunbursts, rimmed sweet from morning precipitation as he guides, goads, without a breath of hesitation. Nipping, skimming your bottom lip, he engulfs wholly, utterly, and you’re always left a little mesmerised, a little giddy.

     Fingers running up your side and down, and you giggle into his mouth, into the quiet evaporating gasps when he pulls away and he pecks the tip of your nose with emerald-flecked mischief.

     “Wide-awake, are we?”

ii: Diavolo - 6:30 AM

     Diavolo’s kisses are open-mouthed, hopping from your lips to your jaw, to the dip of your neck and your clavicle. His body wash lingers, warm, faintly musky as you ball the fabric of his shirt, tugging him a little closer.

     Laughter shivering your skin, biting at you playfully, nuzzling into you, his hair tickling before he reaches up to your lips once again. It’s a little rushed, a little sloppy, but you find that it suits him just as well, and he cradles you when he pulls away, even if it’s brief.

     “I have to get up,” is his soft, chuckling plea and, as much as you’d like him to stay, you surrender him to his work. Brushing your hair to the side, he whispers the promise of his return, a dinner together and a reward you’d very much like to sink your teeth into.

iii: Beelzebub - 12:00 PM

     Despite his intimidating build, Beelzebub’s kisses are tender, mellow, bitter caramel and pudding between his teeth. He handles you with a delicate touch and you’re precious in his arms, your hands up against his chest, the strong beat of his heart thrumming under your palm.

     Never pushing, never forcing, he always seems to back away just before you do, your name tumbling in honeyed dulcet tones. An endearing smile smoothed by affection, warmed by the kitchen heat, you raise your hand to cup his cheek and he gladly presses into you.

     “You taste sweet,” he confesses, thumbing a peck into your palm, and you chuckle at how unabashed, how honest he always is.

     “Thank you.”

iv: Asmodeus - 2:00 PM

     Coloured in rose perfume, Asmodeus’ kisses flatter you, coiling in an intoxicating swirl of indigo and peach as he pins you down against his bed, his knee between your legs and his hands flitting across your figure. You shudder into his caress, back arching when he traces the length of your abdomen, the swell of your hip, the curve of your thighs.

     Giggles spill into your mouth, the shell of your ear, unsparing in his touches as he bares warm flesh to cool air, to warmer palms, relishing in the way you’re sighing his name in praise. He adores you with sugared compliments, his lips grazing every inch of you in fluttering pecks, a topaz gaze transfixed by the blush of your body.

     He always stops, just as you’re at the precipice of it all, coyly slinking back, taking you into an embrace while he smooths you out.

     “Sorry,” he winks, grinning, knowing. “I got a little too carried away.”

v: Belphegor - 5:45 PM

     Taking all the time in the world, Belphegor’s kisses are, oddly, patient. He nips at your bottom lip as his thumb strokes your cheek, humming your name, brushing your hair back. Through violet eyes, he admires.

     When he finally presses his lips against yours, everything around you seems to flicker ablur, quelling into a silence as you ease in his arms. Mint peppery on your tongue, tart with raspberries and dewed in stardust, holding you tighter still. He’s gentle, if not unyielding.

     No matter how many times he breaks away, gives you space, he’s never really distant, his lips hovering yours for a few heartbeats before he captures you again. Languorously, he showers you with quiet affection, fingers running across your arms, resting at your waist, and you always feel ethereal in his touch, as though you’re floating, as though you’re in a dream.

     Pulling away for the last time, you watch him in a daze as he thumbs a light kiss to your eyelid, the crescent of smile etching itself before he chuckles at the sight of you.

     “Again?” he asks and you nod. Wordlessly, without any hesitation, he lulls you back in.

vi: Barbatos - 7:00 PM

     Earl grey and rose petals, and crème Chantilly; that’s the only indication of Barbatos’ kiss today. You swear you feel him soft against your lips, the ever slight hand on the small of your back, his hair tickling your eyelids when he bends, but when light floods your vision, he’s a good few spaces away.

     You’re not sure if you’re to believe it happened or not, your fingers skimming your  bottom lip as though it would jolt the process of a recollection. You hear him chuckle quietly and you look up to meet the serpentine gleam of his gaze.

     Pressing a finger to his mouth, a smile curling at the edges, he sends a small hush that makes you warm with blush, the thrill of your intimacies being kept under wraps tingling across skin.

     “Later,” and with that, he assures you that this isn’t the last you’ll be seeing of him today.

vii: Mammon - 10:25 PM

     Under the flickering fluorescence of a dying street lamp, the aftermath of a sudden shower, the slight bittersweet tang of Demonus, Mammon’s kisses are uncharacteristically bold.

     Hands clinging, wandering, roaming the side of your thighs, your waist, your face as he pulls you flush against him with his other. Balling his shirt in your fists, you tug and he deepens the entwinement, teeth skimming your lip before his tongue tangles yours, brash as he always is, though the way he strokes your cheek is as kind as ever.

     Hovering, lingering, when you break for air, he shies his gaze away and you’re met with the sight of him, blushed twice over to the tips of his ears. You laugh, wondering where all his bluster’s gone, pressing a peck onto his cheek that stiffens him straight as he looks at you, wide-eyed and nothing short of surprised.

     “Y-ya can’t jus’ do tha’ outta nowhere!” he stumbles, frowning as he does, though the soft look he fixes on you betrays it. Without so much of a warning, he hoists you up and you yelp, your arms finding purchase on the strong line of his shoulder while your legs wrap around his waist, his hand slipping under your thigh to support you.

     “Mammon!” you yell and he lets out a giddy, unrestrained chortle.

     Kissing the top of your cheekbone, he smirks. “Payback,” and he captures your lips once again, rapturous.

viii: Leviathan - 12:00 AM

     Leviathan’s kisses tremble in your mouth, quivering ever just when you return his affections in earnest, hugging you tighter as you lean back against his chest. He’s awkward, unsure, but he holds you with a tenderness that makes your heart melt.

     He leaves the ocean on your lips, mellowly sweet and herbaceous, and you shift in his lap to bury your head into the crook of his neck, the scent of brine and saltwater clinging to him like second skin.

     “D-don’t do that,” he stutters out. You peek out from below and raise a brow in question, and he seems to slump, the sunset across his blue eyes dulling. “I smell; I’m a yucky otaku after all.”

     Pressing your hand to his chest as you rise up to peck the edge of his lips, and he stumbles at the suddenness. “You’re not,” is your answer and he bites the inside of his cheek, looking away, flustering and fumbling before you raise your hand to his cheek to focus on you.

     He holds his breath for a moment then, before his shoulders relax. He doesn’t ask for any confirmation, he just simply allows himself to trust your words, to hold you tighter with a little more confidence. Tugging the blanket that swaddles the both of you closer, you can only sigh as he starts to hum, soft and melodic, and not nearly as often as you’d like him to.

     With the waves crashing frail at the shell of your ear, you rest yourself flush against him, clutching his shirt, eyes fluttering close. A featherlight kiss onto the top of your head and the sea swallows you into a fitful slumber.

ix: Lucifer - 3:30 AM

     Incandescence rims him gold, the smell of juniper spiced and woody, grating the metallic tang of fresh ink as his fingers brush your cheek. Underscored by bitter coffee, Lucifer’s kisses are the aftermath of countless sleepless nights.

     His lips are harsh against yours, clashing, bruising, the hand on the back of your neck pushing your forward as his teeth skim your mouth. Breaking away, your fingers twine his hair, tugging him closer when he trails kisses down your jaw, shuddering as he bites and suckles on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, your hand coming up to his chest, the other gripping the chair’s arm.

     With one last peck to your newly formed love mark, he pulls apart, drinking in his handiwork with a proud gleam. “Beautiful,” he hums and you flush, clicking your tongue at him; he raises a brow. “No?”

     “Somewhere less obvious would’ve been better,” you huff out. Chuckling, he brings your hand from his chest to his lips and a shiver runs through you when he levels a devilish gaze at you.

     “That would’ve completely missed the point,” he answers and you roll your eyes, shaking your head, but he’s unperturbed, thumbing a kiss to your wrist. “Besides, red suits you.”

     As if to prove him right, warmth floods your cheeks and he laughs once more, a little freer this time, with less of an arrogance. You lean forward, just slightly, before you glance at the clock on his table. He appears to have followed your line of sight, because he clears his throat and straightens his back.

     “You can go ahead and sleep first,” he encourages, assures; you shake your head.

     “Not unless you are,” you assert and his mouth opens in protest, yet you shush him by continuing. “Paperwork can wait, your sorry excuse of a sleep schedule can’t.”

     He frowns at that. “I have a sleep schedule.”

     “Last I checked, three hours isn’t a sleep schedule,” you retort.

     “It’s still sleep.”

     “Lucifer.”

     At that, he complies, allowing you to disentangle yourself from him as he stands. He’s still reluctant, you can tell, so you reach up to cup his face in your hands and pull him down to meet your eyes.

     “Please, get some rest.”

     He tenses for a moment, though it doesn’t last long. His stare softens as his mouth curls into a small smile, his hand taking yours before he nods.

     “Alright.”

     Tenderly, gently, he leads you to the bed and takes you into his arms in a rare display of intimacy. Fingers carding through your hair, his chest falling and rising in rhythm, you drift off with his heartbeat in your ears.

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XIV

(A/N at the end)

Parts I-XIII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII Part XIV

James and Matthew were hovering outside the Devil’s Tavern, which presented an august Georgian facade to the mundane eyes and was the site of many a municipal meeting and festivity. Or rather, as Matthew acknowledged, James was the one hovering, conspicuous in his anxiety, while Matthew leaned against the inn’s front wall, smoking a cheroot and gazing upward in the annoying way he did when he was overcome with boredom.

The Devil’s Tavern was the only place left in London that none of their parents knew anything about. Not even Will Herondale knew about his son’s inauspicious lease in the tavern and would therefore be the safest, most logical place for them to conduct their research.

“What time did you tell them to be here?” asked Matthew, still musing at something in the sky. “I do wish you’d stop fidgeting.”

“I told them noon,” said James. “But Christopher is not the most reliable man we know.”

“He is the most reliable when something is in need of exploding or a new specimen needs to be collected,” said Matthew. “Perhaps next time tell him that you have an enchanted box that needs to be unlocked.”

“Does this feel wrong to you?” asked James. “We’re supposed to spend this hour patrolling and we’re hiding in The bloody Devil’s Tavern from our parents.”

“This is, in a sort, patrolling,” said Matthew. “We’re conducting research on how to locate your demon granddad and kill the bastard, but in order to do that, we need to find a way for you to access the shadow realm again or it’s all for not. So, we’re doing our job, just not in the way we’re expected to be doing our job.” Matthew slapped James’s hand away from his hair. “I said stop fidgeting.”

“If we’re caught…” James started but couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. While the four of the Merry Thieves agreed that the risk was worth the reward of defying Charles Fairchild’s newly established rules, the risk still hung over James’s head like an anvil waiting to drop. He’d reassured himself time and time again that ordinary chivalry demanded action and that his indignation had more to do with Charles’s complete need for control than the punishment being fair or responsible.

“Oh for Raziel’s sake, we won’t be,” said Matthew. “We’re trained in being discreet, remember?” Just then the door to the Tavern burst open and a head attired with goggles, poked out.

“I don’t see them,” said Christopher before he turned his head to where James and Matthew were standing. He removed his goggles up into his hair, wiped his face with an emerald scarf, and shoved the door open with his shoulder. “What are you two standing out here for? We’ve been waiting for you in the Devil for nearly twenty minutes. Thought the parentals got a hold of you.”

“You’ve been here the whole time?” asked an exasperated James. “We’ve been waiting… never mind. Get inside, quickly, before someone notices us.”

“I must admit, I’m a bit tempted to see how red my brother’s face can get if he catches us deliberately disobeying him,” said Matthew as the sound of boots clambered up the wooden stairs.

“This coming from the one having a crisis over the thought of being strapped to his brother’s desk,” said James over his shoulder. Christopher laughed ahead of them.

“That was before I witnessed my mother make him cry after threatening to strip us of our marks,” said Matthew.

James paused. “She made him cry?”

“Weep,” said Matthew. “I believe the words ‘yes, Mummy’ were said at least twice.”

“You lie!” said Christopher ahead of them.

“I exaggerate, Kit,” said Matthew as they reached their door, “but I never lie.”

The door burst open like a tightly wound jack-in-the-box as the three boys burst into the room. James walked across the room and took a seat at a small table in the window nook while Matthew made himself comfortable on the long sofa. Christopher met James at the table and busied himself with turning over the pages of an old book.

“Where have you lot been?” asked Thomas from the couch. “We’ve been waiting for you for twenty minutes.”

“They were outside,” said Christopher, examining the pages of the book.

James stood, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to expose his forearms, as he walked to the center of the room. “All right, we have only forty minutes left of our patrol to come up with a plan on how to access the shadow world without the use of my useless power.”

“How’s that coming along?” asked Thomas.

“Am I in the shadow realm?”

“No.”

“That’s how it’s coming along.” He pressed his back against the wall opposite Matthew, Thomas, and Christopher. “It’s never felt like this before. Everything that usually works, isn’t. Chaos. Danger. Pain. Isolation. Even when I feared Lucie and Cordelia were trapped there, I still couldn’t push past this invisible wall.”

“Invisible wall?” asked Christopher.

“Yes,” said James. “That’s what it feels like, an invisible wall blocking me.”

“Perhaps you need more fiber in your diet,” grinned Matthew.

James squinted at him, unsure if he was joking, and decided to carry on without acknowledging  the statement. “We need to start researching a way into the shadow realm that doesn’t involve my ability.”

The sound of chair legs scraping against the floor turned everyone’s attention towards Christopher as he shoved himself away from the table. “I’ve read about this,” he stated, excitedly. “Pockets. Uh… uh… portals they were called, but they’re like pockets in our realm to other realms. You experienced something like it at the cemetery which allowed Cordelia to access the realm after you and for Matthew and Lucie to draw you back.”

“Brilliant,” said Matthew. “Now that we have an access point, let’s come up with a plan to kill the bloody bastard.”

“Well,” said Christopher, sliding his glasses back up his nose. “We don't necessarily have an access point.”

“You just said—“

“Allow him to finish, Matthew,” said Thomas, looking like a giant inside the low ceiling room. “Go on, Kit.”

“They move.”

“The pockets?” asked James.

“Yes,” said Christopher, his almost sapphire eyes, enlarged by his lenses, glanced around at the faces staring back at him. “They appear in a spot but only remain for 12 to 24 hours.”

“Brilliant,” grumbled Matthew and slipped lower on the couch.

“Is there any way to track these pockets?” asked Thomas, while watching James stand and pace the floor.

“I cannot recall,” said Christopher. “I read about them in the forbidden section of the library at the academy. I was researching alternative methods of travel and found an extensive research that featured combinations of dimensional manipulation.”

“In English, if you would please,” said Matthew, lolling his head to look at Christopher.

“I am speaking English,” said Christopher. “If you are requesting for me to simplify it for you, then be plain about it.”

Matthew rolled his eyes as Thomas asked, “Do you remember what book it was?”

“Of course.”

“Can it be found in a public library?”

“No.” The boys released a communal exhale.

“Well,” said Matthew as he picked a piece of lint on his jade trousers. “It appears we’re left with piss but no pot.”

“Not necessarily,” said Christopher, stepping forward into the center of the room. His eyes locked on his feet the way they often were when deep in thought. “There is someone who might be in possession of a copy or at least has the authority to access one.”

James and Christopher met eyes as they both came to the same solution at exactly the same moment. A smile curved on James’s lips and he chided himself for not thinking of it sooner before allowing disappointment to consume him.

“Are you going to leave us in suspense?” asked Matthew.

“Magnus,” said James. “We’re going to see Magnus.”

                                                             . . .

The girl who came through Cordelia’s bedroom door the next morning did not seem strong enough to carry the tray on which rested a cup of tea in a florid porcelain cup and a heavy jug of hot water for the washstand. She was hollow in the cheeks and narrow shouldered, her hair pulled back mercilessly into a single braid. Her dress and apron hung loosely, and her boots looked comically laced to such scrawny ankles.

She hummed to herself as she set the tray on the floor, transferred the jug to the washstand and brought the tea, her lips clamped in concentration to keep the cup from wobbling on its gilded saucer.

“Hello,” said Cordelia, her voice rough from lack of use. “Can you please tell me where I am?”

The girl looked up, her eyes expanded as the tea fell from her hands and shattered on the floor.

Cordelia gasped, as the girl let out a scream so loud, she nearly had to cover her ears. “SHE’S AWAKE! OH BY THE ANGEL, MISS CARSTAIRS IS AWAKE! COME SEE…”

Cordelia grimaced as she braced herself on her elbows and lifted herself up. Every muscle felt as if she’d went to bed sore and hadn’t used them again for several days. The light in the room seemed aged, as if it were late afternoon or early evening. She was used to the pale dawn hours, the birds’ thin choir accompanying her waking thoughts. Curiously, she did not feel guilty for sleeping so late into the morning. The room felt familiar to her. Not the emerald green wallpaper with gold etchings or the leather winged armchair, nor the desk with the stack of books resting closest to the window. A smell in the air reminded her of something. Wherever she was, she felt safe and glad to be there.

“CARSTAIRS IS AWAKE… HURRY! QUICK!” the girl’s voice carried down the other direction of the hall along with the shuffling sound of her absurd boots.

Cordelia shifted to swing her legs out from under the heavy covers when a sharp pain in her side stole her breath.

“Best to stay put,” said a familiar voice by the door. “Until one of the Brothers gets here.”

“Alastair,” cried Cordelia. “Finally, a familiar face. Where am I?”

“The London Institute,” said Alastair, as he stepped into the room in white pin striped pajamas. A wooden crutch tucked under his left armpit as he hobbled on a bandaged foot towards her. “Where we’ve been for the last week or so.”

“Alastair,” said Cordelia, looking at his leg. “What’s happened to your leg?”

“Broke it in three different places after being thrown through the air by that demon.” The bed dipped as he sat down beside her. “Don’t fret, sister, it’s nearly healed. The Brothers want me off it while the bones properly set. I should be good as new by next week. How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” She placed her hand on her rib cage and found an extra layer of padding beneath her nightgown. “Week? You’ve said we’ve been here for the last week?”

His dark eyebrows curved in concern as his eyes looked over her face. “Cordelia, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Cordelia thought about the last memory her mind could conjure. The picture looked muddy and weak in her mind. She’s a young girl running through a patch of daisies on a cliff’s edge, but that couldn’t be right. She’s a woman grown now. Another image of London through a carriage window as the moist air off the Thames hit her face. Ice cream dripping down her hand. Dancing under seductive lights with Cortana. James’s hands on her face as he kissed her on a desk. James kissing Grace. Saying goodbye to James.

“I left,” said Cordelia, closing her eyes to stop the memory. “We left, together. We were going to Alicante.”

“Yes,” said Alastair. “Do you remember what happened after? Do you remember the attack?”

“Attack?” asked Cordelia. “No, I don’t remember any attack. What happened?”

Alastair placed his on top of hers. “Maybe we should wait for Uncle to arrive.”

Cordelia gripped his hand in her own. “Alastair, what happened? What attack? Is everyone all right?”

He opened his mouth to answer when footsteps filled the hall and a chorus of people filtered in through the doorway. A sobbing Sona pushed ahead of everyone and enveloped Cordelia in a hug. Her mother felt weak, frail underneath Cordelia’s hands, she could feel the bones protruding from her shoulders and the bumps of her spine through the thick fabric of her dress. Her shoulder bone bumped Cordelia’s chin as she peered over it to see her Uncle Jem, dressed in his robes and quiet as a statue against the wall. In front of him stood Tessa Gray beside her husband Will. She watched the doorway, hoping and dreading, for James to walk through.

When he did not, she closed her eyes to stop the burn behind them and the pit that grew ever wider inside of her stomach.

“My darling, are you all right?” Sona asked, caressing Cordelia’s cheeks and hair. Cordelia noted the hollowness in her mother’s cheeks.

“I think so,” said Cordelia. “Alastair was just telling me about an attack?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No,” said Cordelia and looked to her Uncle. “I don’t remember anything past leaving the Institute with Alastair for Alicante.”

“It’s not uncommon for some memory loss to occur after the sort of head injuries she endured,” said a quiet voice inside of her mind, but everyone else seemed to hear it too as they all turned to Brother Zachariah. “With some rest and recollection of events, the memories may return to her.”

Sona sat on the bed beside Cordelia, their hands still joined. “You were attacked by a demon. It poisoned you with a barb in your rib cage. When Lucie and James found you, you were nearly dead from your injuries.”

Cordelia pressed her hand harder against her ribs until she felt the sharp pain of a recent injury under the pressure. “Why did it attack our carriage? Demons don’t normally just attack a random carriage.”

“We were hoping that you could tell us,” said Will across the room. “We’ve tried to locate it, but it left no other traces of itself except for the attack against you and your brother. No other sightings. No suspicious activity. Alastair can only recall up to the point of being thrown by the thing, but you were still conscious at that point. We thought maybe you killed it before succumbing to your injuries, but the lack of demon blood at the scene suggests otherwise.”

Cordelia closed her eyes and attempted to stumble through her memories again. She recalled arriving with Alastair to the Herondale manor. Alastair walking her to the door with an umbrella to shield her from the pouring rain. She was trembling at the thought of what she was about to do, of what she was about to lose. Alastair offered to go in with her, but she declined.

She couldn’t recall who answered the door or how she got up the stairs to the library where James often hid away from the world in the comfort of his father’s collection of books. She couldn’t recall knocking, but she remembered him answering the door and the orange glow of the firelight that matched the color of his eyes. She remembered the relief those eyes when it was she he opened the door to.

She could vaguely remember the words that were said, or when she left him, or finding herself back in the carriage with Alastair, but the look in his eyes when she said goodbye would remain with her forever.

“No.” She cleared her throat. “No, I’m sorry. The last thing that I remember is leaving here after saying goodbye to James.”

“It’s all right,” whispered Sona as she stroked Cordelia’s hair. “You’ve only just woken up. Perhaps after you’ve had something to eat and talked with Lucie, or James, something will return to you.”

The feeling of something she needed to do sparked at the mention of her old friend. She needed to talk to Lucie.

“Lucie stepped out for the morning,” said Tessa, eyeing Cordelia sympathetically, “but she’s due to return any moment. She’ll be overjoyed to know that you’re awake.”

“And James?” Sona asked.

“On patrol,” answered Will, with a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. “He won’t be back until this evening.”

Cordelia looked away, at her brother’s bandaged leg, at the tear in the hem of her nightgown, at the rune etched into the top of her bare foot, as the memories of her last conversation with James crashed into her.

“I wanted so badly to marry you,” she said. “But a year with you, as your wife, is not possibly long enough.”

The thought of speaking to James after their last conversation left a stone in Cordelia’s stomach, but perhaps it was for the best if she were to be staying in London while they both mended. If any one in the room knew of what transpired between James and Cordelia that last night, they weren’t letting on. Rubbing at the wound on her ribs, she searched the faces around her and found only concern and sympathy looking on at her. A wood pigeon, always the cello in the orchestra of birdsong, gave out its low double coo from the open window, like a beat from a large drum, which began to vibrate in her chest, and she thought it would have been very pleasant just to have remained asleep. 

(Author’s Notes: Hello again everyone! I’m back. I hope you all are doing well. It’s been truly a strange couple of weeks dealing with the aftermath of the death of my beautiful niece (God, that will never get easier to say or write), but we are mending as a family and working towards moving forward through the grief. I’ve been able to spend a lot of time with my sister and my nephew, just trying to keep them busy, but the past few weeks have settled down a little bit allowing me a chance to write and get back into a few projects that I have in the works. Thank you all for the kind words, and well-wishes, and your patience. I’m really excited to be back writing and posting again. I hope you enjoyed this installment. If you did please reblog so others can enjoy it too, please give it a like, hit me with a lovely comment, and follow along with me. Next installment is coming Sunday 9/6.)

[allsassnoclass]

here’s an excerpt from a first responders au that I will likely never write 

Calum sits silently, letting the steady pulsing of the heart rate monitor and faint bustling from outside the room wash over him.  Michael lays perfectly still on the hospital bed, IV in his arm and oxygen in his nose.  His body is a spattering of bruises and cuts, and under the hospital gown Calum knows that there’s bandages around his ribs and a cast on his leg.  They managed to inflate his lung and get him breathing on his own, but he still hasn’t woken up and might not for a while.

They got lucky.  Everyone keeps saying it, but Calum doesn’t feel very lucky.  He doesn’t feel much of anything.  He got out with scrapes and bruises, but Michael and the captain were close to the blast.  It’s a miracle that they got out alive, much less in the condition that they are, but it’s hard to remember that when no one should have gotten hurt at all.

Still, at least the captain is awake.

The entire crew is here and probably will be until someone forcibly removes them from the hospital.  They’ve been taking rotating shifts to be sure no one is alone, trying to let the others rest in the waiting room, but every time Calum has been forced out there instead of in one of the patient rooms no one has been sleeping.  Ashton keeps running to get awful, sludgy coffee.  None of them like the taste, but all of them keep asking for it, as if they can force Michael to wake up simply by being there and not sleeping themselves.  Cap keeps trying to force them to go home.  Halsey joked that it’s so he can sneak into Michael’s room and sit with him himself.  Calum doesn’t think that’s a joke.  

Michael is his oldest friend.  If anyone is going to be staying here the entire time, it’s Calum, although he’s getting hungry and will need to take a break to eat soon.

Footsteps stop abruptly by the door, and when Calum looks up Luke is standing there.  He’s still in his uniform, wearing the signs of a long shift on him.  There’s no blood on the uniform this time, but he’s worn, upright only because of adrenaline and force of will.

“I heard he--” Luke starts, then stops.  “I came as soon as I could.”

“The doctors say he’ll be okay,” Calum says robotically.  “We weren’t briefed on the contents of the plant until it was too late.  Michael was closest to the explosion, but he got lucky.  When he was thrown, the only things to break was his leg and some ribs.  His lung was punctured, but they were able to inflate it.  We’re just waiting for him to wake up now, but doctors say it could take a few days and we shouldn’t worry.”

All of this happened in a few hours, but the explosion itself feels like it was days ago.  Calum doesn’t know how long he’s been awake for, but by the looks of the circles under Luke’s eyes he’s not the only one with exhaustion clinging to him.

“You getting off a 24?” he asks.  Luke nods.  “Do you want to sit with him?”

Luke takes half a step back.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“He’d appreciate it.”

Calum doesn’t know a lot about Luke, but he does know that Michael smiles more after seeing him.  As much as they’re pretending that all they are to each other is a good fuck, Luke’s presence here says otherwise.  He offers Luke his chair, and Luke approaches cautiously, like he’s afraid that loud noises will startle Michael awake, gasping and crying.  Calum pats his shoulder once as he leaves, pulling the door half-closed behind him to give Luke the illusion of privacy.

Ashton finds him in the hallway a few seconds later.  He presses a styrofoam cup into his hands, more of that sludgy coffee, and peers through the window into the room.  They watch Luke gently brush Michael’s fringe off his battered face, then take his hand.  He’s saying something softly, mouth moving but words indiscernible, eyes never leaving Michael’s.  Calum doesn’t know if Michael can really hear him, but he hopes that whatever Luke is telling him helps.

“They seem to be in a good place,” Ashton says.

“Yeah.  They’ll probably have to talk about it once Michael wakes up, which he’ll hate, but they clearly care about each other more than they’ve been admitting.”

Michael and Luke are going to get their shit together before him and Ashton.  Michael is going to laugh so hard when he wakes up.

“You okay?” Ashton asks.  Calum hums.  “He’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” Calum says, and he actually believes it.  Michael is a fighter.  It’s strange to see him lying so still in a hospital, but he’s going to pull through and be back to his old self in no time.  Calum can’t afford to believe any different, even for a second.

“What’s wrong?”

Calum shrugs.  There’s a million understandable reactions he could have to what he just experienced, but none of them are coming to mind.  In this moment, with his captain and best friend in the hospital and all of them exhausted and running on fumes, he’s not overly worried, or relieved, or even tired.  At this point, he would feel completely numb if not for the sting of his bruises when he shifts his weight.

Luke runs his fingers gently over Michael’s knuckles.  Calum watches and longs for someone to care about him like that.

It’s not that he doesn’t think anyone cares, because he knows that if he were in Michael’s place the team would still be camped out in the waiting area, but he knows that they’re his only friends here.  Still, sometimes it feels like they forget about him, making plans and assuming someone will tell him even though no one does or always assigning other people to tasks.  Calum isn’t complaining about the lack of work, but he’s been doing this for a long time.  He’s qualified to do a lot, but he never gets asked to do anything.  Even when they’re responding to calls, civilians tend to approach Ashton, Niall, or--in the cases of various old men, for some unknown reason--Michael.  At the coffee shop, people look right through him.  Calum doesn’t know why he’s invisible, but it’s starting to eat away at his edges.

Michael keeps insisting that Ashton likes him back, but sometimes it feels like a struggle to get him to look at him twice.  If Calum were in that hospital bed, he can’t picture Ashton brushing his hair back or gently holding his hand.  He’d probably still be doing the coffee runs.

“Have you slept at all?” Ashton asks.

“Have you?”  Ashton doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.  “Have any of us?”

“No, I don’t think so.  Hence the coffee.”  Ashton sighs and leans against the wall, looking down at his cup.  Calum looks at his own and his stomach flips unpleasantly.

“There isn’t anything we can do now,” Ashton says.  “Maybe we should take Cap’s advice and go home.  Sleep a bit so we can be back bright and early.”

The thought of leaving makes his stomach flip even more.

“I can’t.”

“It could be a few days before he wakes up.  We have to be refreshed for the next shift.  He’d never forgive us if our job performance suffered because we were worried.”

“Ashton, he’s my best friend.  I can’t leave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ashton says, looking back at his coffee.  He takes a sip, then grimaces.  “Each time I naively think the coffee will finally start to taste good, it gets worse.”

Calum snorts.  When he looks at Ashton, Ashton is already looking at him.  He’s searching his face, eyes wandering all over, and Calum wonders what he’s seeing.

Apparently it’s the desire for a hug, because in the next second he’s being relieved of his coffee and strong arms are wrapping around him, tucking him close.  Calum buries his face in Ashton’s neck, still smelling of smoke from the fire and sweat and a million other things that he shouldn’t find comforting but does, because it’s all Ashton, and no one makes him feel safe and happy and a million other positive emotions like him.  One moment his eyes are watering, and the next he’s crying, big hiccuping sobs that feel like they’re erupting from somewhere deep inside him, like he’s a coke bottle that got shaken and opened too soon.

“Shh, shh,” Ashton says, one hand moving to cup his neck.  “It’s okay.  You’re okay.  I’m right here.”

Calum clutches him tighter and sinks into the hug, letting himself lean on Ashton and surrender to the sudden tsunami of emotions.

[wordsfromthesol]

Coffee is Life

Author: @wordsfromthesol​ Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Warnings:  Sleep deprivation, did I curse in this? I honestly can’t remember… Word Count: 1.2k Requested: @robin-obsessed​

The perils of working at a 24-hour coffee shop was all the unique characters that came in during the dead of the night. You could always tell those working night shift, who were just getting up, from those who decided to stay up all night. You still didn’t understand why the latter thought that coffee would help. At this point you were pretty sure it was just a placebo.

4am strolled around, and thankfully you only had 2 hours left of your 8-hour shift. At least that’s the thought running through your mind when this costumed character strolled into the shop. You shouldn’t be surprised, Gotham was known for its vigilantes. You were more surprised that one of them hadn’t graced your presence until now. You recognized the costume as the infamous Red Robin.

Of course it had to be him. “Hi, welcome to The Night Cup.” You expected him to say something. But after several seconds of pained silence, you decided to continue. “Can I get you a cup of coffee? A shot of espresso?”

“Right. Coffee. The only thing consistently running through my veins…you wouldn’t happen to just have an IV drip with coffee, would you?”

Even behind the mask, you could tell his eyes were hopeful, yet awaiting disappointment.

“Sorry Red…Robin…Mr. Red Robin? Uhm, no we don’t.”

“Ugh, okay. How many shots of espresso am I allowed to order?”

“Well, 6 shots fit in our medium cup…but I really –”

He cut you off, “Perfect. Six shots of espresso.”

“Okay…would you like any milk or flavoring or sugar?”

“No.”

“Red…Red..Robin…uhm…sir?”

“UGH, it’s Tim!”

“Okay well, I’m not going to call you that. I really can’t recommend six espresso shots as a drink. Especially to someone who just divulged their secret identity to an unknown barista.”

“I just can’t figure this case out, and then it was my turn for patrol. Well,” Tim chuckled to himself, “thank god that’s over. But now I need to get back to this case. Which means I need to be awake. Which means I need coffee.”

You slowly rounded the counter and lightly tugged at his elbow. “Right. Well, I’m going to take you to our VIP espresso lounge while you wait. Is that okay…” You looked around, thankfully no one else was in the shop. You looked up at the masked man, still not moving. “Tim? Is that okay?”

He seemed to come out of his trance upon hearing his true name. “Yeah yeah, that would be great.”

You brought him into the employee lounge, which was really just a couch and a coffee table, and sat him down. Thank god Chrissy left early today. You thought, realizing your relief wouldn’t be in for at least another hour.

“Just lay here and I’ll have it ready in a minute.” You guided him to the couch and walked back to the bar. There was absolutely no way you were giving this man 6 espresso shots.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and not only did you have no customers, but you hadn’t heard anything from the vigilante in the back. Quietly, you stalked into the back room and found him passed out on the couch. Thank god. Alright, I have about an hour before Chris gets here. What on earth am I supposed to do with him. Before you actually developed a plan, the hour had come and gone and Chris walked through the front door.

“Y/N! Anything interesting happen tonight?”

“Oh, Chris. Is it time for your shift already?”

“Yeah, 5am rolls around real quick, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so. Listen, we’ve been absolutely dead here. I’ve stocked up everything, made backups, cleaned the floor…do you mind if I just take off?”

“Go for it, the summers are always slow.”

“Thanks Chris, I’m just going to go out the back!” You could tell you were acting weird, but you just couldn’t help it. Red Robin…THE Red Robin was sleeping on the couch in the breakroom, and you had put him there.

You crept into the lounge and kneeled by the couch, whispering, “Tim? I need you to help me. I just need you to walk for about 30 seconds.” His mumbles were inaudible, but slowly he emerged from the couch, albeit it leaning most of his body weight on you. Thank god I live on the first floor. The drive to your apartment was utterly silent. In fact, you couldn’t believe what you were doing. Could this be considered kidnapping? Your thoughts were interrupted by his mumbling.

“Wayne…Manor…Manor…take…Manor.”

“Alright, I am not showing up to one of the richest men in the world’s doorsteps with a passed out vigilante in my arms. Sorry Timmy, you’ll have to spend the night at mine and work on your case in the morning.”

**

Tim woke up dazed and confused several hours later. He was still in his red robin costume, and he was in an unfamiliar place. But strangely this place was not a prison of any kind. In fact, he was left unrestricted on a comfortable bed. He threw his legs over the side, trying to recollect the events of last night.

“Coffee shop” he mumbled as he trapezed around the room, that was until he saw your sleeping form on the floor hugging a stuffed animal. Realization struck him, the barista. You were the barista. Before he could move again, your eyes flashed open.

“Oh, uhm…sorry” was all your groggy and sleep deprived voice could manage.

“No. I’m sorry. Thanks.”

**

You woke up several hours later, still on the floor. What the fuck. You stood up and saw a note carefully laid on the bed.

Thanks for the sleep. Please don’t tell anyone my real name.

“That really happened” you whispered to yourself.

You went about your day and prepared for your next shift at The Night Cup. What you didn’t prepare for is seeing Red Robin enter the shop once again. Thankfully, this time, he was much less sleep deprived.

“Y/N,” he states as he approached the counter. “I thought I should thank you in person.”

“Oh, Red Robin,” you glanced around at the other people in the shop. “It was no problem.”

“Perhaps it’s time you take a break”

“Yeah, yeah I think it is” You motioned to Chrissy to let her know as you walked back into the break room, where Tim was waiting for you.

“Anyways, I wanted to thank you. Sometimes I can go a bit too far. It’s just when I don’t know an answer people get hurt. I’d rather myself struggle than others.”

“I understand,” you sucked your lips inwards, debating whether or not to speak. “It’s just, if you took care of yourself you would actually end up solving it faster. With a clear mind you can better seen patterns and correlations…” You trailed off realizing you sounded ridiculous.

“Yeah,” Tim chuckled, “I’ve been told that a time or two. Anyways, I wanted to thank you.” He handed you a card, “Call this number if you’re ever in trouble.” He began to leave but turned back towards you, “Or if you get bored on the night shift.”