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yandereforme · 2 years ago

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TW:near death experience, talk of suicide, mentions of past character death, guns, the joker,

Bruce had noticed their attachment to you, of course he had. He wasn’t the world’s greatest detective for nothing. He just didn’t know why. Why were they obsessing over you? Was there something wrong with you?

He starts being more suspicious of the obsession after Cass fought Scarecrow, since he ended up in the hospital for months after. And when he tried to scold her, none of his children took his side or seemed to care! He was angry, but his curiosity won out.

He started researching you more, going the same route as Tim. He was trying to understand what you were doing to his kids. After a while, he started obsessing over you a bit, though he didn’t quite realize it.

His breaking point? When the Joker attacked Gotham Academy. You and Damian were both in class at the time, but it was the one class you didn’t share(he took art, while you took music. The only reason he didn’t try to force his way into your class was due to how much you enjoyed his art)

It was the middle of class when the attack started. The joker heard about the new Wayne Girl, and he wanted to take her too, to figure out why she made scarecrow so angry, as well as to play with her.

Damien tried to get there as fast as he could, but he didn’t make it in time before the joker got away with you. None of them did, and everyone hated themselves for it. Tim obsessively checked your tracker, Cassandra and Jason were both so close to killing the joker themselves this time, Dick’s guilt was eating him from the inside out, and Damien was angry enough that he threw his katana whenever anyone got close. Unfortunately, your tracker fell off while the joker had you. So they all had to go out and look for you. Fortunately, Batman found you.

During your time with the joker, you were surprised with how nervous you are. You didn’t think you wanted to live anymore. Yet this fear was odd. You tried to convince yourself that it was fear of torture, you didn’t want to be tortured. Still the feeling persisted. You didn’t want to die just yet . The joker himself was more focused on what he was going to do with you. Grabbing you have been more impulse than anything else, and now that he had you, he had so many ideas what he could do. He did hear about the bats looking for you, but he shrugged it off. He could deal with batsy.

However, before you could get too roughed up, which was about 20 minutes later, (which meant a minor concussion and lots of other injuries you could barely feel due to adrenaline) the joker took his eyes off you, then you acted. This man with someone you knew want to be an awful awful person. You knew he had killed Jason, and you knew he’d hurt everyone. Like hell he was gone to get the chance to hurt them again (even though an increasingly small part of you wondered if they would even care if you died). You weren’t apathetic enough to shrug off the notion of someone hurting the people who they were starting to think of as …. Friends.(Family wasn’t a word you could use, not fully, not after mom, but you were starting to see it.)

Cassandra had already taught you how to undo knots, so by the time he turned around, your hands are free. What followed was you running, hiding and running again from the joker, who saw this is a game and took his time. You didn’t have any where you could go, so he decided to enjoy it. Maybe he’ll take his time killing you too, like he did with Robin.

Batman arrived just after you yelled the joker, saying something that without adrenaline, you wouldn’t fit able to say. You insulted him, mocked him, and even mentioned Harley leaving him, which infuriated him more than you would ever intend to anger the man trying to kill you.

When Bruce arrived, it was to the joker wielding a gun, red and angry, trying to kill you as you ran and hid. The minute you saw Batman, felt relief course over you. You were safe. You just figured out you didn’t want to die, and that man would save you. (You could figure out how to deal with that revelation later.) You almost didn’t hear the gunshot just before you felt the agony as the bullet entered your side.

Bruce saw you run to him with a smile, and for a moment he imagined you saw him as your father, and you were excited to him after a day at school. You were his daughter. You loved him. Then, he heard the gunshot, and the world around him slowed. He saw the bullet enter your body, and for a moment he was back in that alley, his parents’ bodies dropping to the ground and then he saw the warehouse and Jason’s body and why was he always unable to save the ones he loved-

Your scream of pain brought him back to reality, just as the other bats arrived. He grabbed you before you collapsed, and didn’t even bother to give them any orders to hold back. Instead, he sprinted back to the manor, with you in his arms, focusing on the pulse he could still feel, and the way you were awake, though not fully conscious of your surroundings.

Alfred was able to treat you quickly, having listened to the cops. He quickly assessed the bullet wound, which only needed a few stitches. In the time that it took for Alfred to get you to the med bay, Bruce quickly changed out of his Batman gear. Part of him didn’t care if you knew, but he also knew that putting you in danger was the last thing he wanted to do, and knowing his identity would do that. Before he took off his calm, he turned it on and told them all to keep the joker alive, and then turned it off for the night. He didn’t really care that much. You were more important.

By the time he got to the med bay, Alfred was trying to convince you to let him see the injury again. You weren’t as coherent as before, and you definitely seemed nervous. Quickly, Bruce made his way to your side, and started humming the melody that your mother had sung, in some of her videos on Facebook, to you. It worked to calm you for a little while, enough that Alfred could starting stitching you up. When you started to move again, he quickly grabbed your hands and talked about your family. He talked about old stories about Jason, when he was little and dick when he was little. He talked about how Damien was when he first arrived, and talked about how Tim got stitches done in a very similar manner, only he distracted him by talking about a murder case. The only time he slow down was when Alfred was done, and then he looked at you and started to move to carry you to bed when you looked at him expectantly wanting more stories. You weren’t very coherent not really, but you like the sound of his voice. He melted. He brought you down to the family room, where all of your siblings were already there, Alfred, having warned them of the plan. Even Jason was there, and they were all cleaned up and in civilian clothes.

When you fell sleep, that night, you fell sleep in a dark pile of siblings, who almost killed a man for you, and a man who swore that he had never seen anything more adorable then the way you snuggled it up and do his chest.

In the morning, when you woke, everything changed. You no longer went to school at Gotham academy, and it was rare for you to get any of the alone time you used to have. Instead, Alfred started working as your tutor and you did online school for the classes that Alfred didn’t have the time to teach you. You quickly became accustomed to this life of always knowing someone was in the room. A part of you knew that this was not normal. However, that part of you was quickly squashed.

You had searched and craved this validation and love for so long. And now you had it. Damien always showed you his artwork and asked your opinion instead of sneering at you when you asked him about it. Tim now shared breakfast with you and asked you about your interests, instead of just nodding at you in the hallways. Cassandra taught you to dance in a way you never thought was possible, when before she had just been someone you didn’t really know. Jason read to you in the library at least once a week and lectured you on why pride and prejudice was clearly one of the best books ever written, instead of occasionally seeing you once a month. Dick doted on you and cuddled you constantly, giving you the attention you had craved for so many months. And every night Bruce came to your room for you went to sleep and sat with you and talk to you about your day, instead of the days on end where you wouldn’t see your own father. You have been isolated and sad and tired for so long that amy negative feelings towards them quickly vanished, and any thoughts of how unhealthy this might be were quickly squashed. So what if you didn’t see the outside world very often, and so what if your family was clingy and didn’t allow you the free time you used to have? A small part of you may have questioned the love, but another larger part of you knew deep down that you couldn’t turn this away. Not when this was the only thing you had wanted for months.

Thank you all so much for following the series. When I first wrote this, I did not expect so many people to like it. It’s taking me a long time to write this last part, so apologies for any mistakes. I hope this ending satisfies you, and if you guys have any more questions about this au, send me a message in my inbox

Taglist

@takottai @vanessa-boo @aria7silver

TW mental health issues, neglect, depression, attempted assault, light yandereness, generally a lot of angst

I read a lot of neglected reader, with the wayne family, and how they become Yandere for you after an incident, varying between posts. This is my take on it.

You arrived at Wayne Manor about a month after Damien did. Your mother had just died, and even though you knew your father and his existed, you had never met them. (Insert neglect)

The thing is, you really tried to get to know them in the beginning. Even though you were grieving, and you’re so sad and afraid, you still tried to get to know them. You baked with Alfred when you could and tried to strike up conversations at the dinner table, or whenever you saw them in the halls. However, after a few months of trying, and not getting any response back, you started giving up.

You started having days where you wouldn’t even leave your room. You would just stay in there laying on your bed. Afterward, you always noticed they never noticed you were gone, which only made things worse. You really missed your mother, and nothing seemed OK anymore.

The thing that broke you was about two months after you arrived, it was your birthday, and no one noticed. No one said anything to you and no one seems to care. You decided at that point you were just done. You’re done trying to be a part of a family that didn’t want you. You stayed by yourself and pretended you were fine with that.

When you started school, you stayed to yourself. You interact with many people and generally most people forgot you existed. Damian didn’t even see you often, and he forgot about you sometimes too. Until one day, when a classmate of yours grabbed you in front of him, trying to force you to go with him. Damien grew angry.

He fought the guy off, and the three of you were taken to the principals office and the boys were given detention. However, later, when you got home, he asked you why you didn’t fight back against the guy. You looked him in the eyes, a blank expression on your face, and he realized that he never really seen you smile since that first month.

“Why do you care?”

That was the only response you gave him before going to bed, but it was something he focused intently on. He analyzed your actions since arriving for days, and though he wouldn’t admit it, he became fond of you. He started walking you to your classes, memorizing your schedule, placing trackers on you and bring food up to you on the nights where you didn’t go to dinner. He obsesses over you, and wants you to smile again, like you did in the beginning with him. He hates when those plebeians you go to school with talk to you, and when his idiotic brothers pull him away from you. Didn’t they see you needed a protector?

You didn’t understand why you suddenly had a shadow everywhere you went. Ever since that boy tried to hurt you, Damian was following you everywhere, and was weirdly attentive. He was giving you snacks when you wouldn’t eat whole meals, though you didn’t know how he knew what you liked. Whenever your classmates tried to talk to you(which was rare) Damian would glare them into submission.

Despite how weirded out you were, you wouldn’t deny that a small part of you liked the attention. This was the attention you had so desperately craved when you first arrived. The depressive haze lifted slightly as Damian stayed, and you found yourself less and less annoyed by him following you.

If you guys like this, I will make more parts about the rest of the brothers. Request which brothers you want to hear from next in the comments (Bruce is going to be last).

#yandere #yandere batfam x reader #non binary darling #yandere batfamily #gender neutral reader #yandere damian wayne #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere cassandra cain #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batfam #yandere platonic batfamily x reader #platonic yandere batfam

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

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Hi!

It's the anon of the Remus knockout fic. Could you write a mirror fic?

Yep! For anyone who is curious: a mirror fic is when you take the premise of one fic, then translate it to a different character with minor alterations. This one has the same theme as Knockout, where Sirius was knocked unconscious after a bad hit. This is also the first half-and-half commentary fic I’ve ever written!

SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for injury, minor blood, fighting, and unconsciousness

“Lee, are you seeing this?” Frank asked, excitement building in his voice.

“I am, Frank! There’s a melee on the ice—it looks like the Lions and Snakes have finally let their cork pop after that dirty check on Lions captain Sirius Black! Oh, what a hit on Malfoy by O’Hara! That’ll leave a mark,” Lee laughed. Several whistles blew, loud and shrill over the roaring fans. “Let’s get a playba—wait. Hang on a second, Frank, is that—?”

“There’s a player down,” Frank confirmed, sobering immediately. “Lee, I think that’s Lupin, but he’s not moving.”

“Black is waving medics over and it looks like the Lions have put their fists away for the moment. Snape tries to start something again, but—oh, shut down by the refs. Right to the bench for him.” They fell quiet as another person hurried onto the ice. “That’s Hestia Jones, Gryffindor’s newest addition to the training team. Lupin always speaks highly of her, so he should be in good hands.”

Noise rippled over the stadium after a period of suspended silence. “Is he moving? He is! Lupin’s conscious again, and nobody is calling for a stretcher, which is a great sign.” Frank paused for a moment as Hestia and Sirius helped pull him upright. “And Lupin’s heading toward the locker room with about half the team on his heels, mostly under his own power.”

“I think we can all breathe a sigh of relief after that,” Lee said. “I don’t know about you, but I never like seeing fights go bad. How do you think it happened?”

“Let’s take a look.” The jumbotron picked up just after number 8 on the Snakes collided with Sirius in a late hit, nearly knocking his helmet clean off; in mere seconds, the two teams were on each other in a pack of fury. Remus went after number 8, one of the enforcers—they tussled for a moment before a hard hit from his opponent knocked him flat on the ice.

“Lupin’s fiery, but he was well out of his weight class there,” Lee said, shaking his head. “It seems like no permanent damage was done, though. We’ve got enough Lions and Snakes in the boxes that both teams are going to their second strings, Frank! Back to you!”

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

Sirius’ heart pounded in his ears as they headed off the ice, moving as slow as possible to avoid damaging Remus on the off-chance something serious had happened. Hestia’s arm was a steel bar around his lower back; Talker, James, and Leo flanked them until they reached the boards, and each of the Lions put a gentle hand on Remus’ back when he passed them.

“I’m alright,” Remus said as they stepped into the tunnel, his head drooping forward. “ ‘m okay.”

“Can you help him get his pads off?” Hestia asked quietly, finally making eye contact with Sirius while they helped him sit on the PT table.

He nodded and gently guided Remus’ hands away from the straps and buckles, undoing them from muscle memory as he kept a careful eye out for anything they may have missed. Remus half-smiled, though more pain had overtaken the dizziness. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Sirius winced at his voice crack, but removed the heavy pads without missing a beat. “How’re you feeling?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder. “Hurts. Nothing out of the ordinary, though. Can you call my mom?”

“They’ll be here soon, I bet.”

“Did you see them?”

“Earlier, yeah. They’ve got seats in the middle.”

Hestia tapped Sirius’ hip and he reluctantly moved aside to let her run through the concussion protocol, though he didn’t let go of Remus’ hand and grabbed a nearby paper towel to clean up some of the blood on his lip. “You look good to me,” Hestia said after a few minutes. “A little banged up, but nothing scary. Get some rest and water, and you’ll be good as new.”

The paper covering the table crinkled as Sirius sat down, rubbing small circles on Remus’ lower back. “Do you want to stay here or head back to the bench?”

He made a face. “Stay here, I think. I’m kind of wobbly.”

“I’ll grab your water and be right back, okay?”

Remus nuzzled Sirius’ collarbone with a sigh, then kissed his cheek. “Thanks, hon.”

As soon as Sirius was out of the PT room, he leaned against the wall and blew out a shaky breath, running both hands through his hair. He had been too preoccupied with recovering from the late hit and shoving Snape to stop Remus from engaging with the Snakes’ enforcer; all he could do was watch as they traded one, two, three hits before Remus dropped. Dropped like a stone, and took Sirius’ heart with him.

Nobody else noticed at firs—both teams were a brawling wreck at that point, and for all of his hard work Remus was still one of the smaller guys out there. It was a miracle Hestia had even heard him calling for a medic as he gripped Remus’ hand and fumbled through hoarse pleas for him to open his eyes. He had been so pale when Sirius pulled his helmet off, save for the blossoming reddish-purple mark across one side of his face.

Hestia had let him stay while she worked, speaking clipped and clear by the side of Remus’ head until he mumbled “hear you” and “hurts”. It took another half-minute before he looked at them, and a dozen lifetimes before his breathing went back to normal under Sirius’ palm.

He’s okay, he told himself for the umpteenth time. He’s okay. He’s awake. Hestia’s got him.

Sirius walked to the bench in a daze, hardly glancing at the game while he collected their waterbottles and braced himself on the back of a chair for a moment. “How is he?” Arthur asked, worry lacing his tone.

“He’s okay. Bruised and dizzy, no concussion.”

“Deep breaths, Cap. Deep breaths.” Sirius inhaled slowly, then exhaled with a shiver. Arthur gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “There you go. Everything’s alright.”

“That was fucking terrifying.”

“Sit down for a second, yeah?”

Sirius shook his head. “Gotta get him some water. Christ. Okay, I’m okay. Don’t know if you want me back out—”

“No,” Arthur said firmly. “We’re ahead, and your boys don’t look like they’re going to let the Snakes take it back.”

“Thank you.” Sirius pressed his lips together as the delayed fear rocking through him began to abate.

“Go on, son. I’ll update the others if they ask.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face before heading back down the hall with both waterbottles, trying to calm his racing heart to the sounds of quiet voices coming from the PT room.

“Sirius!”

“Hey, buddy.” Sirius bent down to catch Jules in a hug and felt tears prickle back up in his throat as his ribs were nearly crushed beneath skinny arms. The second he straightened, Hope and Lyall pulled him close in a flutter of worry.

“Is he still awake?” Lyall asked.

“Hestia’s got him,” Sirius confirmed, running a steady hand through Jules’ hair. “He’s up and talking, no concussion. I was just getting him some water.”

Hope looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she nodded. “Thank you. Can we see him?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Sirius lifted Jules onto his hip—the kid wasn’t letting go of him anytime soon—and led them down the hall, then knocked before pushing the door open the rest of the way.

Almost immediately, Remus was mobbed by both his parents. “I’m fine,” Remus assured them as Hope inspected the bruise on the side of his face. “I should know better than to start fights with—”

“You didn’t start it,” Lyall interrupted. “That was a late hit and the refs should’ve called it before things went that far.”

“Oh, lovey,” Hope murmured, cupping his face in her palms. “We are so happy for you, and we one hundred percent support you, but please think before you punch people twice your size.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Remus laughed as she kissed his forehead. “Where’s Jules?”

“Here.” Jules wiggled free of Sirius’ arms and crept over, then clambered up onto the table and tucked himself against Remus’ ribs with a sniffle. “Don’t do that anymore.”

“You got it,” he promised; Sirius lingered on the outside of their group hug before Remus reached out and dragged him into his other side. “Family hugs include you now, remember?”

“I need all my boys in one spot,” Hope added, giving him a light jostle.

“You guys are welcome to stay as long as you like,” Hestia said from the doorway as she propped it open. “Cap, Loops, coach might want to see you after the game.”

“How much time do we have?” Sirius asked without extracting himself from the net of affection.

“Eh, maybe five minutes? We’ve scored two goals in the past ten, so I don’t think it’ll drag on too much longer.”

“Sirius, how are you feeling? That hit looked pretty hard.” Hope gave him a concerned look, as if she was expecting him to also drop unconscious.

“I might be a little bruised in the morning, but I’m fine,” he said.

Lyall narrowed his eyes, then nodded. “Good. We need you.”

“I won’t be in for the rest of the—”

“We need you here,” he clarified, patting Sirius’ back. “Right here.”

Remus caught his eye and smiled softly; Sirius swallowed around the lump in his throat and relaxed into the hug, resting his temple against the top of Remus’ head. He was okay. They both were. They all were.

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toosicktoocare · 4 years ago

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AU where the Avengers don’t know that Spider-Man is Peter Parker just cuz

inspired by a fantastic ask about concussions from @carley-carley-carley (hope it’s okay that I tagged you!)

“Young man? Young man, are you alright?”

Grunting, Peter drags his head away from the insistent tapping against his cheek, an almost rhythmic, steady pressure that jerks up his temple to spread across his forehead. The pressure isolates to the base of his skull, where the pounding seems to be at it’s worst, and it holds ground there, pulsing uncomfortably.

“Young man, you fell from a four-story apartment building.”

Peter’s brows furrow at this. He wants to object because he’s Spider-Man, and a fall like that is minor compared to the novel of inuries he’s suffered alongside the Avengers. He opens his mouth to do just that, to explain to this woman that this is nothing, that he’ll walk it off, but a pricking senstation hot against the back of his neck hotwires to his eyelids, forcing them open.

He’s aware of two things: One, the woman leaning over him is far too close, and she’s doubling and tripling before him, going in out of focus against his blurry eyes. Despite hazy around the edges, she looks concerned, if the deep-set wrinkles etched into her forehead are anything to go by. Two, there’s a small crowd surrounding him, and while Peter’s not particularly claustrophobic, right now, it feels like each body is pushing against his lungs, and his stomach. When the hell did he start feeling so nauseous?

“Young man, do you know what day it is?”

No, Peter thinks flatly to himself. He really doesn’t. He could dig through his mind, eager to push out logic, work through his mental calendar that operates soley around when homework assignments are due, but there’s a solid rock of pulsing pain blocking all normal, brain functioning. “Monday?” he tries weakly. He’s faintly aware that his own voice sounds hollow and distant, but more so, he’s distinctly aware of the saliva pooling in his mouth, a copper taste that coats against his tongue.

Peter didn’t think it was possible, but the woman somehow frowns deeper at him, and she climbs to her feet, body rigid. He supposes it’s not Monday after all.

“Call an ambulance! He’s concussed.”

Peter shoots forward into a sitting position, and the pain in his head bursts like a balloon. The redistributed pressure is blinding, and Peter drops his face into his cupped hands with a low groan that threatens to bring more than just air up his throat.

He wants to assure them that a hospital isn’t necessary, that his enhanced healing defies medical science, but when the white light coating his vision dies down to an unsteady sway of darker, blurring colors, he only sees scraped up palms before him, not gloves. He rips his hands away, and one, quick look down shows that he’s sporting a blue NASA hoodie and blue jeans and that he’s definitely not wearing his signature red and blue Spider-Man suit he thought he had on.

The hell?

He glances to see his backpack beside him, thankfully still zipped up and intact. He tries to wrack his brain, briefly craning his neck up toward the rooftop he assumes he fell from, only to quickly jerk his gaze back down when the setting sun seems to shine past his eyes to burn at his skull. He can’t remember why he was up there in the first place, especially since he’s in civilian clothing. He can’t remember much of anything, now that he dwells on it.

“Young man, by all accounts, you should be dead.”

Peter makes to reply, his clenched jaw unhinging almost painfully, but a different, probing jolt sparks up his spine to the back of his neck, and he’s climbing to his feet, pale, wobbly, just as two, new voices somehow carry over the wall of chatter around him.

“What’s going on?”

“Make way. Crowds typically mean one of two things: some weird alien contraption that equals bad news or a dead body, either of which I can’t really fit into today’s schedule.”

Even if Peter didn’t have the two voices memorized, down to the timbre, the sudden, loud squealing from the crowd of “Tony Stark!” and “Captain America!” is enough to have him eyeing for a quick exit, determining if he can duck his way through the pressing bodies.

“This young man fell from the roof!”

“So,” Tony draws out, his voice growing closer. “Dead body it...” He trails off as he nudges around a few people until he’s breaking into the center of the circle with Steve hot on his heels.

“Well, hello there, not dead person.”

Peter wants to shrink away from Tony’s gaze. He wants the ground to crumble and break and swallow him hole, to rid himself of the awkward fear and warm embarrasment that flushes his cheeks. He can feel a thick, lukewarm liquid dripping down his neck, and he doesn’t want to look down to see the concerning pool of blood at his feet.

“Son, are you alright?” Steve shoves forward, and on instinct, Peter backs away and brings a hand to the back of his neck, a nervous tick, but he pulls it back almost immediately, faintly frowning at the splattered red coloring his palm.

“You fell,” Tony starts, and Peter knows this tone well as it’s Tony’s signature speculation tone, where he dissects the situation around clipped, short sentences.

“From up there?”

Leveling his gaze, Peter huffs out a shaky sigh, wincing slightly as Steve prods lightly at the back of his head.

“Um, yeah. I guess?”

“You guess?”

“I don’t really remember,” Peter laughs awkwardly, clears his throat. He can sense the tension that builds behind him, can almost feel the way Steve’s muslces grow rigid.

“He’s concussed, Tony. Maybe save the interrogation for another time?”

“Sure,” Tony says, and he steps forward, carefully avoiding the puddle of blood. “But, you can’t blame me for finding this entire situation unsettling, Steve. This kid fell from the roof of a four-story building, landed on his back, and now he’s standing, and aside from the fact that he looks a tad worse for wear, he’s alive?”

“I’m right here,” Peter mutters under his breath, and Tony nods and crowds too close to him.

“You are. Standing. Speaking. Alive. Three things that don’t exactly pair well with falling off a roof.”

Peter’s head hurts, bad. Deflect, he thinks. But how? “I’ve always been told I come from a family of hard heads,” he mumbles around a hollow laugh, and, he thinks, it definitely sounds as stupid out loud as it did in his head.

Tony’s gaze, in response, his sharp, and narrow, and Peter unconsciously closes his eyes. He can feel the ground rippling below his feet, and he sways, steadying only when Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“Enough, Tony.”

“How much would it take to get you to come back to our labs so I can run some tests-”

“-Enough, Tony.”

Steve’s voice vibrates all across Peter’s body. It’s a powerful yet familiar feeling that makes him shudder slightly.

“What’s your name, son?”

Peter contemplates lying, maybe even using Ned’s name. But, he’s been careful as Spider-Man thus far, so, he thinks, he’s not at risk by sharing his real name. Besides, it’s not like it’s uncommon. “Peter,” he says after a moment.

He could hear Steve talking beside him, but an unannounced rush of blood in his ears begisn to drown out close sounds. He grows hot suddenly, or maybe, he’s been getting steadily hotter this entire time and he couldn’t fully realize. His body’s shaking a little harder now, inconsistent trembles jerking his limbs. His throat’s tightening, and when he realizes what the hell is happening, he’s shoving away from Steve and hunching over to vomit.

He feels worse when he finishes. He’s exhausted, and his head is positively throbbing. Yet, there’s a color of clarity flicking across his mind. Through the thick pain, he can think a little clearer, see a little clearer.

“Peter?”

“Gross, kid. Time to go to the hospital.”

“No!” Peter whips around, staggers, and unconsciously reaches out to Steve’s arm for support. “I mean, that’s not necessary,” he clarifies at the two, wide expressions looking at him expectantly. “Really. I’m already feeling better.” To punctuate his point, he lets go of Steve’s arm and bends down to snag his backpack, clutching it close to his chest. “See, totally fine. No passing out or anything.”

On the back of his head, he can already feel his broken skin moving, closing torn gaps, slowing the bloodflow. He figures he’s got about an hour until it’s completely healed, and he’d rather not be around two Avengers when it happens.

“I’ll just go home and... rest! I’ll rest. Scout’s honor.” He mock salutes, and then he spins on his heel and starts pushing his way out of the crowd, missing the furrowed gaze from Tony. He swallows thickly when he hears two sets of heavy footsteps behind him.

“Peter, wait!”

“I’m with Steve on this one, kid. I can’t, in good conscience, let you disappear in this condition. I can see the headlines now. Iron Man Abandons Helpless Teen.”

“Tony...”

Peter keeps walking ahead, keeps his gaze locked to the sidewalk below him as Tony and Steve take either side of him. “My apartment’s just a few blocks from here,” he mumbles, focusing on the rhythmic pound of his shoes on concrete and not on the hot pain pushing all across his head or on the fact that he can’t shake a couple of Avengers, something he’d never consider as Spider-Man.

“Do you not like hospitals, Peter?”

Steve’s question is a gentle prod, and Peter goes with it, shrugging.

“Not really,” he offers, keeping his voice low, indicating he doesn’t want to pursue the conversation, and luckily, Steve takes the bait and drops it. At least, Peter thinks, they’ll stop insisting he seek out medical assistance now. Though, he does feel a little bad lying to Steve; he doesn’t like lying, unless it’s to egg on Tony’s nerves as Spider-Man. But to Steve? It feels morally wrong, and he thinks he should seek out a confessional for his sins later.

“Not interested in having a bunch of doctors deem you a medical miracle?”

“Definitely not,” Peter groans, finally dragging his gaze up until he’s looking forward and not at the scuff marks on his shoes. His memories, though fuzzy, are filtering through cracks in the thick mud that’s currently his mind. He can remember standing atop the roof, maybe a little too close to the edge. He was getting ready to rip open his backpack for his suit, and then he remembers losing his footing. He remembers the back of his foot hitting the edge of the roof, and everything goes dark after that.

Embarrassing, he thinks. He’s the only super hero he knows clumsier than a newborn deer. Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize he’s reached his apartment until his leg muscles are dragging to a stop on habit. He looks up, craning his neck, and sighs. “Well, this is me. I appreciate the escort, but I’m good now.” He starts up the steps, sighing louder when he hears the two follow.

He makes it all the way up the steps to his apartment door and unlocks it before he spins on his heel, a second, longer sigh pushing past his lips. “Look, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but don’t you both have... bigger things to do? Iron Man and Captain America things?”

“You busy, Steve?” Tony asks, and Steve mutely shakes his head before following Tony into the apartment.

Groaning, Peter rubs at his forehead and shuffles inside, knowing full and well that both are incredibly busy on an hour-to-hour basis. He’s quick to slip his bacpack into his bedroom and close the door before he steps back out into the living room to see Steve motioning toward the couch with a pack of frozen peas in hand.

“It’s all you had.”

Shrugging, Peter drops down flat onto the couch, sitting up briefly so Steve can slip the bag of frozen peas behind his head. He shivers on contact because shit, it’s freezing, and Steve’s reaching over him to snag the blanket draped behind the couch. He hums absently when Steve tucks it around him, and then he cracks an eye open to see Tony staring down childhood pictures with a familair set of glasses on.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Huh?” Tony whips around, already plucking the glasses from his face.

“Really, Tony? How much info is FRIDAY feeding you right now?”

“What?” Tony drags out, both hands raised in defense. “Kid fell off a roof and walked away. Sue me.”

“I promise, Mr. Stark, I’m not even remotely interesting,” Peter tries, and Tony raises a single brow his way.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Peter’s kept his identity tightly under wraps thus far, and he knows childhood pictures or pictures with May aren’t going to reveal that he’s Spider-Man. Still, it’s annoyingly intrusive, and he sits up with a groan.

“If I swear on my best friend’s lego model death star that I’ll stay put, rest, and wake up every few hours to monitor my condition, will you both please leave? You really don’t need to hang around here; I know you both have to be really busy.”

“Your best friend has a lego model death star?” Tony starts, isolating that one fact. “Is your best friend in second grade?”

Peter clambers to his feet, stalks over to his door, and yanks it open. “We’re the same age, and I happily helped him with it,” he challenges, motioning toward the doorway.

“Easy, champ,” Tony says around a laugh as he and Steve start toward the door. “If you and your friend want to play with legos, that’s none of my business. Just try not to fall off any more roofs because, unfortunately, that is my business.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter says, offering a nod as the two step out.

“Consider going to a hospital, Peter,” Steve adds. “Maybe take your friend with you for comfort.”

Yeah right, Peter thinks. Ned can’t even handle the thought of a needle without feeling faint. Still, he nods, if only to appease Steve, and then he’s closing the door and sinking against it with a low sigh. He listens for a long time until he can no longer make out their footsteps, and then he’s ignoring the pressure in his head and running to his room to don his suit.

Concussion or not, Queens still needs the friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man.

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miss-tc-nova · 2 years ago

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S/O Making Mistakes - Aqua

I feel this is super relatable and I needed something a bit softer. I think a short headcanon was a good distraction. So thank you!

~~~~~

With a S/O Who Made Mistakes

Well, it’s not exactly how Aqua wanted to spend her afternoon.

Cleaning up after your mess.

Correction: messes.

You were certainly having a day. One minor mistake created a chain reaction of terrible results that seemed to just blow up right in your face.

Very quickly, it became an enormous problem you were incapable of handling on your own.

Of course, Eraqus scolds you.

He’s stern and makes certain you understand where your mistakes came from.

But even though he isn’t harsh, being scolded by an authority figure like Eraqus is never pleasant.

It gets even worse when your teammates are dragged into it, awkwardly forced to watch said scolding and then told to assist you in cleaning said mess.

Now the quartet of you are in the process of cleaning up the physical side of the disaster.

To hear Terra and Ventus gripe about it, doesn’t make it any easier. They don’t outright blame you for the current predicament, but their complaints make their mark nonetheless.

Though she’s also miffed at having extra work, Aqua watched your face while you were facing Eraqus’s stern talking to—like a kicked puppy.

So she refuses to add to your misery and keeps to her work (which may not add to your crestfallen mood).

Once the work’s done, she shoos the boys away, ignoring their grumbles.

Then, by the hand, she leads you to her room, still yet to really say anything about the situation you put her through.

But once you’re in the privacy of her room, she wraps you up in her arms with a heavy sigh.

She asks you a few probing questions about what happened, but doesn’t poke at open wounds too much.

Whether you’re frustrated or in tears, she holds you, both of you decompressing together—the rhythm of your breath slowly falling in sync.

Gentle fingers ghost across your skin, drawing aimless designs while a soft voice hums in your ear.

If you ask her if she’s mad, she’ll be honest: she didn’t love the extra work but everyone has off days.

Then she reminds you of the time she blew up a pot in the kitchen using fire magic, spraying soup everywhere.

Or the time Ven fell off a playground slide and got a concussion, so he had to be rushed to Master Eraqus.

And that Ven fell off the slide because he was trying to free Terra who got stuck in said slide, who then had to wait over an hour while the Master tended to Ven first.

There’s really no end to the shameful stories in this hodgepodge family, you included.

So she assures you that today will pass and there will be happier days ahead.

Kisses press against your face, instigating a laugh from you.

She would never ask you to, but if you feel like making it up to her, she won’t say no to a massage (girl has some tense shoulders).

Or she’s a real sucker for little gestures, like making her favorite food or helping her out with chores/missions without being asked.

“Oh my little troublemaker. I’m only kidding; you know I love you. Don’t worry too much about it. Today is done and tomorrow will be better as long as you learned your lesson. You learned your lesson, right? Haha, I’m just making sure.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Kingdom Hearts Masterlist

#novas kh headcanons #novas requests #kh aqua

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wannabemobwife · 4 years ago

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Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Sinking Friendships

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Language, Blood, Car accident, hospital scenes/talk, small talk of religion (sorry it just felt right for the story), angst, fighting, typos

-Words: 5.6K

Author note: Sorry for the shit writing, it was so hard to write the car accident. Tried to make it as medically accurate as possible. Most knowledge derived from Grey’s Anatomy/WebMD. Sorry this chapter is long. Feel free to leave comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter. Every message I've received is so sweet thank you all.

*Anytime 3 dots/ellipses (…) its a sob/breath and a moment of reflection during dialogue.

Chapter 8: Sinking Friendships

Words: 5.6K

Sirens, flashing lights and screams were the only thing Henry remembered. It all happened so fast. One minute Henry and Rosie were laughing together getting lost in each other’s eyes and the next they were both unconscious awaiting their death.

There was no time for Henry to react in anyway. No swerves or movements were made to prevent the impact. A maroon truck had collided Roise’s side, jolting her entire body. Her door was dented beyond belief.

From the forceful impact caused their car skid on the pavement, wearing the paint job away, and crash into the street pole. Henry’s entire body screamed out in pain, his injuries weren’t as bad as Rosie’s though.

“Rosie? Rosie! Rosie!!” Henry called out, desperately wanting to hear her lovely voice. Panic and heartbreak ensued when he saw blood dripping down the side of her head.

Rosie wasn’t moving. How could she be full of life one minute and the next, not? Henry reached over and placed two fingers below her jaw searching for a pulse. He felt he was able to breathe once her felt her few and far between heartbeats, it was faint but it was still there.

“Darling, wake up. Rosie, wake up! Open your eyes for me.”

Henry could feel himself fading by the moment. He used his last breaths to tell the girl he loved he was sorry. Her life was hanging by a thread and in that moment Henry was utterly useless. Praying that she would wake and he would get to hold her again, as everything faded to black.

It had to be about 15 minutes. 15 minutes for an ambulance to arrive. 15 minutes that Henry and Rosie had been unconscious for. 15 minutes of complete stillness, as everyone outside the vehicle panicked. The witness had called 911 multiple times and the other driver was unconscious at his wheel.

After those brutal and possible life ending minutes, help finally arrived. They pulled Henry from the wreck, putting him on a gurney.

“Sir, can you hear me?” called out the paramedic. “Yes. My girlfriend, help her please,” Henry was pleading for his life. How could he be so careless, it was only an accident? “Sir, just lay back. Let us take care of you,” the paramedic uttered, putting her hand on his shoulder to hold him down.

“No. I need to make sure she is okay.”

“Sir, you need to restrain yourself. The other paramedics have got her.”

“ROSIE! Just please let me know if she is okay,” screamed Henry.

“Sedate him please. I’ll go check on the girl,” said the paramedic. Henry faded into a deep sleep a moment later.

“Hey, how’s the girl? Her boyfriend won’t stop asking,” asked the paramedic to the one attending to Rosie. “Unresponsive. She has head trauma and a pulse, thank god,” he murmured. Henry was sent along with Rosie to Kingston Memorial hospital. The hospital was 20 mins away, so much can happen in that time.

Everyone else was sleeping soundly within the walls of the Holland Manor. It started to become a common theme that phone calls in the middle of the night usually meant someone was hurt. This time it was Harrison calling.

“Haz? It’s so late why are you calling?” You asked, jolting awake.

“There’s been an accident and Tom didn’t answer when I called. It’s Rosie and Henry. It sounded bad, Y/N.”

“Oh my god. I’ll see you there,” you responded, barely forming the words as tears started to fall.

“TOM WAKE UP!” you screamed, shaking him awake.

“What?… I’m up. I’m up.”

“There’s been accident.” No more words were said, they just hopped in the car and drove as fast as possible. Tom knuckles grew white clutching around the steering wheel. He couldn’t even begin to fathom a world with his Rosie in it. Harrison was already there, pacing in the waiting room.

“Haz. Where is she?” you said, tears begging to fall.

“I don’t know they won’t tell me anything because I’m not family,” Harrison answered.

“Fuck that, you are our family. How’s Henry?” Tom exclaimed.

“He’s ok. Just a minor concussion and dislocated shoulder, he’s in there right now. They are putting his shoulder back in its socket. He was really lucky but, I am worried about Rosie.” Haz said, just as a doctor dressed in surgical scrubs approached them.

“Are you here for Rosie Holland?” asked the doctor, Tom just nodded in response.

“Mr. and Mrs. Holland, I presume,” continued the doctor

“Yes, that’s us,” Tom replied, clasping your hand in his. He tried to put on a brave face for his wife. You couldn’t both be a mess.

“Ok, Rosie is still in surgery. With extensive injuries like hers we like to keep the family updated as much as possible. Your daughter was the nearest point of impact. She came in with a puncture wound to the abdomen, a severe concussion, massive internal bleeding, many cuts caused by broken glass and severe trauma to her head.”

“Will she be okay?” you asked, accidentally interrupting the doctor.

“Let him finish darling,” Tom said, his grip on her hand tightening.

“It is still too early to know. I have to get back.”

“Alright Doctor, thank you,” Tom acknowledged. You just fell into Tom’s arms, letting all the tears you were holding back fall. You broke into a fit of sobs in his embrace.

“Tom, I don’t want to lose her. I can’t lose her. She’s our baby,” you whimpered, your tears staining his t-shirt

“Shh, darling. She’ll pull through. Remember she is just like her strong mother.”Tom whispered, rubbing a soothing hand over your back.

“Have you gotten in touch with Parker?” Asked Tom as he continued to comfort you.

“No, I’ve been trying. Leaving message after message… Why fuck isn’t he picking up?” yelled Haz. Just then, Henry had walked up, sporting a cloth sling His heart nearly broke as he saw you crying your eyes out buried in Tom’s arms.

“No. No, no, no. Don’t tell me she didn’t make it.” Henry cried as his knees started to buckle at the thought of losing Rosie.

“Henry no, she’s still in surgery. Hey, come here.” Harrison said trying to calm down his son.

“Henry, what the happened?” Tom asked, scared for his daughters life.

“What were you doing with Rosie anyway? It’s late.” Tom questioned again after Henry stood silent, growing louder.

“Hey, Tom. Back off,” Harrison said, standing in front of Tom.

“No. I want to know the reason why my daughter is in there fighting for her god damm life.” Tom screamed. Henry was like a deer caught in headlights. He couldn’t lie his way out of this one. His eyes just shifted between Tom, you and his dad.

“A truck hit Rosie’s side when I was driving, I’m sorry, it was an accident.” Henry cried, barely able to get the words out.

“Son, we know it was an accident. It wasn’t your fault,” Harrison said, comforting Henry.

“Where? Where were you guys?” Tom pestered on.

“Umm, we were on our way back from… from a date. We are dating.” Henry muttered, his eyes glued to the floor.

“What? Y/N did you know about this?” Tom asked, ready to throw hands.

“Yes, Tom,” you murmured, avoiding Tom’s disappointed glare.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Tom screeched.

“And for you. Who the fuck said you could date my daughter?” Tom bellowed, pointing his finger at the poor boy.

“I did kind of give them permission by keeping their secret. In your own time frame though you were supposed to ask Tom,” you muttered, bouncing between Henry and Tom.

“Wait. For how long? For how fucking long?” Tom cursed.

“2 months.” Henry whispered.

“2 months. 2 fucking months. You were lying to me?” Tom screamed, he was livid at you.

“I don’t want you dating her,” Tom growled with an unchanging expression.

“I’m sorry, sir. What?” Henry asked, dumbfounded by Tom’s response.

“Tom, what?” Haz faltered.

“Tom don’t do this, he is a good kid,” you begged.

“Break up with my daughter or there will be hell to pay,” Tom declared and with that he walked away.

“Tom, you can’t do that to them,” you yelled after Tom.

“Really Y/N watch me” Tom said, ignoring his family. His heart had been broken too many times tonight. First when he heard about the accident, another when he had learned of Rosie’s injuries and another when he found out that you had been lying to him. His mind needed to be on one person right now, Rosie.

Tom managed to cool off, but immediately changed the subject anytime you would start to apologize. He didn’t have the energy to focus or listen, all he cared about was Rosie. Parker had showed up 10 mins later, he was off doing god knows what.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Tom yelled, as he saw Parker come through the sliding doors.

“Sorry. I just got your message. Is she okay?” Parker explained.

“We don’t know she is still in surgery,” you whispered, trying to hold back tears.

“What I went out for a bit and shut my phone off. What’s the big deal?” Parker asked.

“The big deal is that I didn’t know where you were. I couldn’t get in touch you. Rosie was in a car accident and I couldn’t call you,” screamed Tom, still angry from the conversation that just perspired

“And Henry?” Parker question, ignoring Tom’s scolding.

“He’s ok. Haz is with him right now, they went to get some coffee,” you informed him.

“Are you okay, mom?” Parker asked, remembering the conversation they had the night before.

“I’ve been better. Just glad you are here,” you said, bringing him into a warm embrace. As they all stood together as a family, Rosie’s doctor came to update them.

“She is out of surgery and stable. Her heart did stop and we were able to resuscitate her, she’s in the ICU now…”

“Can we see her?” Tom asked, interrupting the doctor. A huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, his baby girl was going to be okay.

“Yes, but you need to know something. Her brain started to swell in surgery so we had to put her in a medically induced coma to bring down the swelling. We don’t know when she will wake up or if she will at all,” explained the doctor.

All the Hollands stood like statues, unable to process the news. You felt as though you had been punched in the stomach, you wouldn’t be able to handle losing your baby girl.

Minutes, hours and days had melded together. It had been 6 days since the accident and Rosie was still the same, laying unconscious in a hospital bed hooked up to various machines. All of you stayed at the hospital expect for Harrison and Henry. Harrison was running the mob for Tom, for the time being.

You refused to leave her side, spending every waking and sleeping hour right beside her. Seeing your daughter like this was killing you. You weren’t getting any sleep and your hair started thinning.

Rosie looked pale and lifeless, the only thing guaranteeing she was alive was the incessant heart monitor. Her bruises had started to heal, changing from a vibrant purple to an opaque yellow. Everyone prayed she would wake up.

Henry tried to visit everyday but Tom wouldn’t allow it. He was still furious his daughter was dating him and everyone else knew about it except him. Tom’s heart ached for Rosie to wake up and be his funny, sassy, brave girl once again. Tom, however couldn’t stand how the waiting was making you feel.

“Darling. Wake up!” Tom whispered, gently shaking you.

“What? Did something happen? Is Rosie ok?” You exasperated, jolting out of your sleep and trying to catch your breath.

“No, she’s fine. It has just been a while since you had gone home and cleaned up. It might do you some good, baby,” Tom pleaded.

“Tom, I can’t leave her,” you whispered.

“Y/N, it’s ok. Let me take you home and Parker will be here in case anything were to happen,” Tom explained.

You were hesitant at first but eventually agreed, it had been awhile since you had showered or had a decent meal. Living off of the same sweatshirt and hospital cafeteria snacks for the past couple days. All your energy had been put into watching Rosie.

While Tom took you home, Parker was tasked with watching his sister. As kids they were both active and had gotten hurt, only most ever being a broken bone, never a life or death situation. Not only was Rosie Parker’s sister, but she was his twin.

His built in best friend. There had never been a time where he didn’t know her, maybe the first 5 mins of his life, but Rosie soon followed. Sure they fought and argued like all siblings do, but they couldn’t imagine their life without each other. He needed her sarcastic comments and infectious laughter to brighten his day. He needed her warm, slightly awkward hugs and her bitchy attitude once in a while. Parker didn’t know what he’d do without her.

“Rosie, I don’t know if you can hear me but mom is a mess, dad has barely said to word and everyone just needs you to wake up. I need you to wake up…. We all do, especially Henry,” Parker whispered.

“God, he secretly loves you. He hasn’t had the balls to tell you yet, but if that it is what you need to wake up, then do it….Let that be it…. That he loves you, Rosie…. He loves you.”

“I know what it is like to lose someone you love. Charlotte didn’t have a choice, but you do. You can fight and come back to us…. Come back to Henry. He needs you. He calls me every night asking if you had woken up yet. Dad banned him from visiting the hospital. Really fucked that one up didn’t you Roo…. You should’ve told him about you and Henry, but that’s beside the point…. The point is let today or tomorrow or next week be the day I tell him you did…. Just promise me you will wake up ok. I know I don’t say it often but I love you.” Parker got everything he needed to say off his chest. Tears had managed to escape from his eyes as he held her hand. Henry was standing in the doorway, when Parker poured his heart out.

“Hey mate. Mind if I have a minute with my girl?” Henry spoke.

“Not at all. Perfect timing, my parents just left,” Parker said, getting up from his crouched position.

“Yeah, I know. I was parked in the parking lot, waiting for them to leave.”

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Oh, none. None what so ever.”

“So practically all of it?” Parker said in response.

“Yeah,” Henry just nodded along.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Parker said as left the room.

Now it was just Henry and Rosie.

Tom had forbidden Henry from seeing her, he hasn’t even gotten to hold her hand. Henry tried to hold back tears as he saw the girl he loved looking half-dead. Her skin had lost its color and her necklace, the one he had given her, was stained with blood sitting in a bag on her bedside.

“Hey Roo. I’ve missed you…. Life hasn’t been the same these past few days. I’ve missed all your good night and good morning texts and your smile.” Henry started.

“Everyone wants you to wake up. They need you to wake up. Can you just open your eyes and flash that smile for me? I need it and I need you…. Rosie,… here it goes,… I love you. I couldn’t stand the thought of you never knowing I love you. So there it is, I love you.”

“I love everything about you…. Your eyes, your laugh, even that weird snort you do. I love you and that has to be enough. It has to be enough for you to wake up and come back to me…. Don’t just do it for me, do it for Parker and your dad and your mom. They have all been losing their minds without you.”

“Rosie, please baby. I love you and that has to be enough,” Henry concluded as tears streaked his face. He moved to press a chaste kiss to her forehead when all of a sudden machines starting going off and beeping left and right.

“Rosie? Rosie stay with me!” Henry didn’t know what was happening. All he knew as that she was still alive and prayed to god he wouldn’t hear her flatlining.

Rosie’s body started to jerk and shake, involuntary. The room filled with nurses and doctors, rolling Rosie on to her side. Her muscles spasming everywhere.

“Sir, you need to leave,” said the nurse, prying Henry away from Rosie.

“No, please let me stay with her,” Henry cried, refusing to avert his eyes from Rosie.

“You need to leave. Let us help her.”

Henry stood crying, peering through the glass doors at the love his life slipping before his very eyes. Her seizure only lasted about 8 minutes but, minutes bleed to hours as tears refused to stop.

“Henry? What happened?” Parker said, running up to Henry crouched on the floor with his knees to his chest and head buried.

“I don’t know. They forced me to leave. Her body started shaking violently, I don’t know what happened,” Henry sniffled, titling his head up. His eyes were beet red and his face was riddled with tears. Parker just stood there dumbfounded. He only left for 10 minutes to get some water. How could so much go wrong in that time.

“Young man, are your parents here,” asked the doctor as everyone came out of Rosie’s room.

“No, they went home to grab some things. Why?… Is she dead?” Parker questioning, pulling at the roots of his hair.

“No, she’s alive, but we can’t share any further information till they get here,” explained the doctor. Parker just nodded in response and Henry was able to breath again, exhaling the breath he was unaware he was holding.

Parker was about to make the call he dreaded. This was the entire reason you refused to leave, in case anything were to happen.

“Parker, what’s up. Is Rosie okay?” Tom said as he answered the Parker’s call.

“Dad, no, you need to get to the hospital. Something happened with Rosie but, they won’t tell me anything,” Parker said, his voice wavering.

“Oh my god, I’ll be right there,” Tom said, hanging up the phone. He had been refusing the chance to break down, he felt as though he had to be strong for everyone else.

“Y/N! Y/N!!” Tom screamed through the house. The one time Tom tries to do something good everything gets screwed up.

“Tom, what?” You exclaimed, startled by his screams

“Something happened with Rosie,” Tom said, a fews tears dripped down his face.

“What? No. No, no, no. I wasn’t there. I’m her mom and I wasn’t there. Why the fuck did you make me leave?” You cried, feeling like a terrible mother. You never should’ve left.

“I’m sorry. Be mad at me later, let’s just go,” Tom said, grabbing his car keys.

Tom’s reckless driving was not the problem at the moment, you just need to be there for Rosie. At the hospital, Tom barely parked properly before they were running through the halls. He came upon Parker in the waiting room, looking disheveled as fuck. His eyes were puffy eyes and hair stood up, he could tell his son was tugging on it in frustration.

Tom needed something to take his mind off Rosie. He needed to punch something or beat someone up or even just take his angry out with words.

“Parker, what happened? Is she okay?” You said, scared for Rosie’s life.

“I don’t know. No one has come out of her room,” Parker explained and you just nodded in response, trying not to cry again.

“Parker, what the fuck is Henry doing in here?” Tom demanded.

“Umm,” Parker mumbled.

“I’m sorry sir, I needed to see her,” Henry said profusely, apologizing

“I don’t care what fuck you needed to do. You are the reason she is dying. You were the one driving,” Tom screamed.

“Tom it was an accident,” you said, trying to reassure yourself in the process.

“Y/N I don’t understand how you can take his side when he almost killed our baby girl.”

“Like, I said it was an accident!” you explained.

“Nurse! Nurse!” Tom yelled.

“Yes, sir. Do you need the doctor?” asked the nurse, worried someone was bleeding.

“No. I want to know who the fuck let this boy in here.” Tom thundered.

“I don’t know sir, I’m so sorry. This won’t happen again,” she explained.

“Tom he can stay. If he is telling the truth about loving Rosie this concerns him as much as it concern us,” you said. This must be killing Henry like it was to you.

“No, he fucking can’t. Now get out, before I have you escorted out of here in a body bag,” Tom threatened.

“Alright, I’ll go. Just please, tell me if she wakes up,” Henry pleaded, slowly walking away. He wasn’t going to go home, he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave, not when Rosie was still in that state.

They all saw the doctor come out of the room and quickly cornered him. A grim expression draped across his face created uneasiness in everyone.

“I’m Y/N Holland, I’m her mother. What happened? I just left for twenty minutes,” you asked, tears streaming down your face as you barged in the room.

“We put her on a ventilator, the seizure was caused by lack of oxygen to her brain,” the doctor said.

“I’m sorry, what? She had a seizure?” Tom said, trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

“Yes. Her brain function has remained unchanged for several days now. In my expert opinion, her outlook isn’t very good. I would prepare yourselves. We can keep her comfortable if you would like or we can arrange her to be moved to a facility where she will possibly heal in the future,” explained the doctor.

“What are you saying? She’s brain dead?” asked Parker chiming in.

“It’s too still early to give a definitive diagnosis, but most likely, yes. I’m sorry for your loss.” The doctor said, exiting the room. You wanted to die right in that moment. A piece of you died the second those words slipped out, you were inconsolable.

“Y/N. Baby, come here,” Tom whispered. Trying to reach out for you, his broken wife.

“Don’t fucking touch me. I should’ve never let you convince me to leave,” you cried.

The guilt was enormous for everything. You were the one who let Rosie and Henry date, without that they would have never been driving together. Never gotten in the accident, you couldn’t help but feel responsible.

It was always the same feeling, you felt walking into Rosie’s hospital room. The feeling of drowning or being burned alive. It’s indescribable. A feeling felt by those who lose their children. You put them on this earth and for them to leave it before you was wrong.

“Rosie, I’m so sorry I left baby. I’m here now and I’m never leaving,” you said, combing your hand through her brown locks.

“But its okay if you need to. It’s okay. I’ll be alright, we all will be…. You can let go…. I love you so much sweetheart, don’t every forget how much mommy loves you…. You can rest now,” you said, moving to Rosie’s side to take her hand in yours. Seeing Rosie like this was tearing you apart from the seems.

It wasn’t long before all tears had put you to sleep. Tom had covered you up with a blanket. You talked to Rosie as though she could hear you. Maybe she could, maybe not but, you definitely wished she could. Tom hadn’t had the chance to break down like you. You needed him to be the strong one, but he was human too.

“Rosie, it’s dad. Everyone besides me has gotten the chance to talk to you, so here it goes,” Tom started.

“I know your mother said that is was ok to leave, but it is not. You hear me. Don’t you dare leave…. Rosie, darling you need to fight. Fight whatever it is that will bring you back to us. You are so much stronger than you lead on baby.”

“I love you so much, please come back to us…. I don’t know if your mother can take losing you. Also that boy you secretly hid from me. Once you wake up you are grounded. I don’t know why you fell for that scruffy looking kid but he needs you, baby. We all do,” Tom concluded. There was no easy fix to this problem. He couldn’t go out and torture somebody or beat them til they broke. Not even money could fix this. He felt completely and utterly useless.Tom reached out to the only thing that could help his daughter, God.

“Hey, god above, I don’t really have a name for you. You are just the one who watches over people, you could be from any religion. I don’t know,” Tom said, clasping his hand together as he spoke to the heavens above.

“I know we don’t talk often and I’m sorry for that and I’m sorry for the despicable acts I’ve committed but I need you help…. My daughter needs your help. She was in a car accident and she hasn’t woken up yet. She’s so young, she has her entire life ahead of her and I want her to experience it all…. I’d really like to walk her down the aisle someday. Can you just bring her back to me? That’s all I ask, just bring her back.”

“Thank you. Shit, I’m believe I’m supposed to say amen and I’m sorry for cursing a second ago. Just remember what we talked about, do this for her not me. God knows I don’t deserve it,” Tom said, ending his plea to the god or gods above.

Tom couldn’t of imagined better timing, with his speech, Rosie’s fingers started to twitch in his hand.

“Y/N wake up?” Tom yelled.

“What, I’m up. Is she ok?” You asked, confused by his outburst.

“Better than ok, her hand moved,” Tom explained.

“Oh my god, really? Parker go get the doctor,” you said, moving towards Rosie.

“Rosie?” Tom said as she started to stir.

“Rosie, baby. I’m here” you said, holding her hand. Rosie eyes fluttered open as she choked on the intubation tube, which gave her oxygen.

“Shh, you’re ok. You were in a car accident with Henry. You’re ok,” you said, softly. The look on Rosie’s face broke your heart. She looked so confused and overwhelmed all you wanted to do was hold her and never let go. Yes, she was a teenager but she will always be your baby girl.

Parker quickly brought the doctor in and he conducted a neurological exam. He removed the tube down her throat, allowing her to breath normally.

“Rosie, you’re awake. Don’t try to talk, it will feel weird for a while. I can get you something for the pain. I’m going to have you do a few tests. Blink once for yes and twice for no, ok?” The doctor explained. Rosie followed his instructions and blinked once. You and Tom were holding each other, praying Rosie didn’t have any brain damage.

“Follow the light for me please. Good. Squeeze my hand. Good grip… These are all amazing signs. Everything looks good. No neurological deficits, but I still would like to get an MRI for her. In the meantime, just rest. It’s going to feel weird as your brain has basically been sleeping for a week,” the doctor concluded, leaving everyone alone to rejoice.

“Mom?” Rosie said, her voice extremely hoarse.

“Yeah, honey. Take it easy,” you said. Words couldn’t describe how you were feeling, you got your daughter back.

“Where’s Henry?” Rosie croaked out.

“He’s ok Rosie, I believe he is outside. Would you like to see him?” You asked, much to Tom’s dismay. Rosie just nodded in response, trying to make everything seem less hazy.

“Rosie,” Henry said with a biggest smile on his face. Nothing could bring this boy down from cloud 9, she was ok. The love of his life was ok.

“Hi,” she said with a half-smile. That’s all she could must her up with her energy.

“Thank god you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Henry said, kissing her forehead.

“We will give you two a minute,” you said, pulling Tom and Parker out of the room. Tom was giving you a bunch of harsh glares, he knew what you were doing. However, he too ecstatic that Rosie was awake to be mad at Henry.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” Henry asked concerned.

“I’m okay. Henry, I have to tell you something,” Rosie responded.

“I love you…. Walking up in the hospital bed just made me realize who cares if it’s too soon or if you don’t feel the same way, I just had to tell you. I love you,” Rosie declared. This was his chance, break her heart and walk away, she didn’t deserve to be here in a hospital bed. Tom was right, Henry knew what he had to do.

“Rosie, I think we should break up,” Henry said, already feeling like he made the biggest mistake of his life.

“What, why? Did I do something wrong? I thought we were happy. Just yesterday you said you were falling in love me. What the fuck happened?” Rosie faltered, confused by everything.

“Rosie, it’s just not working,” Henry exclaimed with the lamest excuse.

“Fine. Leave,” she said, trying to not let tears fall.

“Roo, we can still be friends.”

“Don’t fucking say that to me. You don’t get to call me that anymore,” Rosie screamed.

“Rosie, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to say something else but was cut off.

“Just get the fuck out. I’m serious, FUCKING LEAVE!!” she thundered as he left. Henry felt like literal shit and an asshole and a fucking idiot all at once. He had just broken the heart of the girl he loves. It was never supposed to happen this way.

“Henry? What’s wrong?” You asked as you saw Henry storm through the halls.

“Are you happy Tom? I did it,” Henry barked.

“Glad she’s awake. Y/N you should go in there, she needs you,” Henry exclaimed, before leaving for good this time.

“Tom, we need to talk about Rosie and Henry,” you said, furious at Tom and his decision to break them up.

“He’s gonna fucking break her heart and I won’t allow it,” Tom yelled.

“You can’t keep them apart and you already did that,” you said sternly, you couldn’t believe the nerve on your husband.

“Y/N end of fucking discussion. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. We don’t keep secrets from each other. For fucks sake, how fucking stupid are you? Letting our daughter whore around with that kid, just like you did,” he vociferated.

“Whore around like I did? Really? Why don’t you look in the fucking mirror?” You screamed, zero fucks were given.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tom barked.

“I know about you and Jazz.”

“What?”

“You went to a hotel and met her there. Tell me I’m wrong,” you interjected. Tom was too furious to explain his actions, he let you believe he cheated on you.

“Your silence answers my question,” you remarked, wanting to break down inside.

“Tom, just so you know you're sleeping on the couch tonight,” you said. You had your answer now. How could Tom do that to you. I didn’t matter in that moment all that mattered was consoling your daughter who Tom broke.

“Real fucking mature Y/N,” Tom yelled, as you walked away.

“Rosie?” You asked, knocking on her door.

“Mom… he broke up with me,” Rosie said as tears fell.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong…. I swear to god if he met some other chick while I was in a coma.”

“No, nothing like that,” you said, trying to comfort your daughter. There is nothing like a first heartbreak.

“There has to be a reason. One minute I was in love with a boy who loved me back and now, I’m not.”

“Shh, it's okay,” you said, rubbing you hand down Rosie’s back as you pulled her into your arms. How could Henry actually do that to her and flee the scene like a coward. Parker managed to chase him down in the parking lot.

“What the fuck Henry?” Parker called after him

“I did it because I love her,” Henry exclaimed, continuing to walk away.

“Bullshit,” Parker yelled as he punched Henry square in the jaw.

“Owww.”

“I said, I’d fucking hurt you if you broke her heart.”

“Yeah, I know. It was still a shitty threat, but I deserved that.”

“I don’t understand what happened Henry. One minute you tell me you love her the next you don’t…. I don’t know if I will ever understand but you can’t come by the house for awhile,” Parker pleaded, wanting to know the truth.

“Alright. Just tell her I’m sorry mate.” Henry concluded, feeling like literal shit and an asshole and a fucking idiot all at once. He had just broken the heart of the girl he loves. It was never supposed to happen this way.

Author note: I'm sorry for all those who love Rosie and Henry. Don't be afraid to call me a bitch for breaking your heart, my brother did when he read it. Also Tom is a literal asshole in this chapter.

I really can't wait for you guys to read the next ones, even if you don't ask for it. I will post hints for the next chapter with emojis because it's fun.

Guns, Glamour, Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

#Mob!tomhollandxreader #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader #harrison osterfield #mafia au #mob au #tom holland x reader

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pjo-whore · 3 years ago

Text

Percy Jackson At Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Wizards Are What Now?

Look, Percy never wanted to be half-blood.

Being a half-blood – the child of a mortal human and a god – was dangerous. It was scary. Most of the time, on top of having neglectful parents and a dysfunctional and incestuous family that wanted you dead for petty reasons, it got you killed in other painful, nasty ways.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Percy didn’t feel envious of the kids who didn’t have to deal with the mythological world.

Percy Jackson was seventeen years old. Until a month ago, he was fighting a war against a Greek primoradial, the Earth Mother incarnate, Gaea – also known as his great grandmother. Before that, he fought in a war against his grandfather, Kronos, Greek Titan of Time, who wanted to overthrow the Olympian gods and take over the world and the Empire State Building. Somewhere in between he also found time to spend a month in literal Greek hell, Tartarus, who also happened to be his great grandfather, and who also tried to murder him on sight.

Was Percy a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

And right now, he was still trying to clean up the mess from the Second Giant War.

Now that there wasn’t a war looming overhead, the gods’ recent exploits were coming to light, and new demigods were popping up everywhere, everyday. The number of demigods skyrocketed now that they were actively searching and not waiting for them to stumble into Camp on their own.

But that also meant there were new kids to train, more demigods for the gods to claim, and less time to recoup from the recent war.

Less than a month had passed since Gaea’s defeat.

The days were filled with helping each other get back on their feet, rebuilding the camps, and trying to keep the fragile peace in order.

There was still a lot to sort out, and the gods weren’t as hands-on as most would like. There was conflict building up. News spread about how the gods helped the seven demigods of the prophecy fight the giants, because a giant couldn’t be killed by a mortal alone, and this made many jealous and angry. The gods could pop in for a single battle when it was their own ass on the line, but not when a group of their own literal kids needed to rebuild their home that was dedicated to the gods?

Besides Chiron and Dionysus, the only god to physically stay at Camp Half-Blood following the battle against Gaea due to his punishment from Zeus, there were no other adults. The oldest demigods were barely twenty. Despite age, most, if not all, the demigods looked to the prophecy demigods for guidance and leadership.

Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Piper, and Nico.

The brunt of the responsibility fell on the daughter of Athena, and the son of Poseidon. They led their Camp through the Second Titan War, and now they were survivors of another war.

Things weren’t easy for a long time.

The Camp was completely ravaged.

During Gaea’s seize of the Greek demigod Camp, the cabins were burned by the monsters and toppled by Gaea’s massive earthquakes. Not even the Big House – the staple of Camp Half-Blood, the oldest building on the lot – survived the attack.

Camp Jupiter didn’t fare any better, but their buildings had been more structurally sound, thicker and built of material that didn’t burn and crumble. Enough buildings were still standing well enough to inhabit.

Everything had to be rebuilt for Camp Half-Blood.

Nobody could be sent home – to their mortal homes, with mortal parents, and a mortal life, mortal being the slang for “normal” among the mythological world – despite the new lack of residency at Camp Half-Blood. Kids needed to heal. There were nightmares and PTSD. Trauma and concussions. People to be counted, bodies missing, some so mauled they were impossible to identify. Several bodies were unearthed from the ground, sucked in by Gaea’s attack and suffocated beneath the dirt.

Shrouds were made for those who could be identified, the unknown buried in unmarked graves to be remembered. Those who were missing were given honorary shrouds, unknowing if they were in one of the unmarked graves. The Romans were unable to do their traditional funeral rituals, transporting the bodies all the way to Camp Jupiter, and were burned in shrouds alongside the Greeks.

Mortal parents simply couldn’t help.

They couldn’t fathom their children being in a war.

There were fears that demigods would be taken away from Camp Half-Blood by their mortal parents, horrified at what their kids were put through. Chiron especially worried about demigods who would be kept from Camp by parents, forcing them to live alone without any mythological world support, to defend against monsters on their own, without any magic or special weapons.

So, among the remaining able-bodied demigods, Greeks alongside Romans worked together to erect the new Big House. Tents from the Romans’ siege on Camp Half-Blood were gifted to the Greeks to provide residency until the new cabins were built, while the Romans started to march back home.

During all the chaos, Percy didn’t have any time to sit down and process all that happened.

The whole Camp looked up to him as a leader, but Percy didn’t feel very strong or wise.

He only felt bitter.

There were some who walked by and whispered “lucky” and “prophecy.”

Some who stopped talking as soon as he walked into the room.

Those who acted like he wasn’t even human, just some untouchable hero; but they ostracized him.

Percy was aware that he was one of the so-called “lucky” campers; lucky being compared, because at least he walked away with all his limbs intact.

It didn’t feel like he was lucky.

He wasn’t unscathed. He bore many scars, visible and not. His time in Tartarus was an impossible nightmare on bad nights, and a shadow on good days.

Percy was learning that he had triggers.

He was learning Annabeth did, too.

Neither liked using elevators.

Annabeth’s expression went tight when Percy used his powers around her. She turned away, sometimes completely leaving the area.

She got antsy in the dark, a childhood fear resurfaced.

There were other little things; at night when she had nightmares she would toss and turn in bed, sweating through her clothes and sheets, despite the breeze being cold. Sometimes Annabeth would completely avoid Percy, acting snappish, always coming back and apologizing in the end, and they would hold each other like they were hanging over the chasm again.

Annabeth refused to talk about what she saw in her nightmares, and Percy never pushed. He was one of the only people who could understand what she was going through.

Sometimes all they could do was sit and try to drown out the memories of The Pit.

Percy’s triggers were different.

He developed a deep-seated hatred for empousai. The moment he saw one, his body started to shake with adrenaline and nerves, fire flashing before his eyes.

Percy could no longer look at the stars without feeling a deep loss, tears pricking at his eyes.

He prayed to his father, Poseidon, more often, as if trying to re-establish his connection to the sea, to re-establish his connection to the Overworld, as if that could cleanse him of what happened in The Pit. As if he could wash away the touch of The Pit.

Percy’s nightmares were always blurry and violent. He wouldn’t snap awake like others. He didn’t startle or jerk upright. He didn’t make a single noise. He would wake silently, and lay there in bed, eyes open and unseeing, that shattered glass feeling he always dreaded at the bottom of his stomach. After he could never go back to sleep, and he would get up and sit on the tile in his cabin for hours and look in the mirror and wait for the image to change. He would wait for it to reflect what he feared, though it never did.

“Okay, so, how big is the situation? Is it like, ‘Aphrodite lost her hairbrush again’ big? Or is it ‘Gaea has risen again’ big?”

Annabeth frowned. “I don’t know. All Chiron said was that a god needed our help – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought as they headed toward the Big House. They had been asked to attend a private meeting with Chiron, outside of the camp counselor meeting. “He sounded serious, too. Whichever god it is must be an asshole to seek help so soon after the war.”

She wasn’t wrong, Percy thought.

Jason was appointed Pontifex Maximus in Camp Jupiter, and as such he was responsible of advising the praetors, ruling over the Camp Jupiter counsel, and overseeing the work and prayers to the minor gods. His promise to Kymopoleia to bring worship and awareness for all minor gods became his fulltime job, and it was ruled that most gods must go through Jason to request help from either demigod camp.

A god asking for help directly after a full-scale war? Using Chiron as their connection? It was a hit below the belt, and it made Percy frustrated.

A few demigods raised their heads in greeting as Percy and Annabeth passed by the arts and crafts center. Conner and Travis Stoll, who were trying to build bombs with bits and pieces from the forge, took one look at Percy, then at Annabeth, and wiggled their brows suggestively. Percy unsubtly stuck them the bird, and they started to laugh their assess off.

The Big House was smaller now, after being rebuilt.

What could be scavenged from the attic was saved, but most of it was lost. Magical artifacts and ancient texts were burned and crushed. Now the Big House served mostly as the infirmary, aside from the drop-by medicinal tent near the Apollo cabin, where more medical supplies were. The Apollo and Hephaestus cabins had been the first to be rebuilt because they gave needed services.

Aside from the infirmary, the Big House had a commons area for meetings, and housed a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Checking in the commons area, Chiron was in his wheelchair. Nico was sitting at the beloved ping pong table, which had somehow survived the siege on Camp, and Thalia was sitting backwards on a chair by the new counselor table, which no one ever used.

Percy sat next to Nico and twirled the ping pong paddle between his hands, Annabeth taking her usual seat during counsel meetings.

Chiron looked tense.

“Now, I know that only a month has passed since the end of the Second Giant War, but –”

The air practically sparked with the collective tension that built.

“– a new quest has been issued.”

Annabeth leaned forward in her seat, interested. “Chiron, you can’t have an official quest without a prophecy. And the last time I checked; the Oracle of Delphi wasn’t working right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a quest from the Greek pantheon, then.”

Percy cocked a brow and shared a look with Annabeth.

“The Roman pantheon doesn’t have an oracle, and their last augur exploded himself, so –”

“It’s a friend of Lady Hecate, the Triple Goddess.”

Dead silence.

“The Triple Goddess?” Percy parroted. “I don’t follow.”

“The Triple Goddess is of the Old Religion, once practiced in Europe hundreds of years ago by the druids and magic users in general. It belonged to Albion, a land of five kingdoms, before it split into the United Kingdom and Ireland.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Nico said.

“All those years ago, in the middle ages, after the golden age of the Greek pantheon, the Old Religion became very popular in Albion. Magic was something that anyone could practice even if they weren’t born with the innate talent, with the proper training. Through the ages, though, the religion declined, and the New Religion rose and became the staple. While the Old Religion relied on the magic of the land, sea, and sky; the New Religion relied on your inner magical core, and so not everyone could do this new magic.”

Chiron shifted in his wheelchair and pulled out a small stack of photos, but when he tossed them onto the ping pong table, the demigods saw that they held moving pictures.

In one photo, it showed a person standing over a boiling cauldron, on the wooden table beside them, old parchment with a quill that moved by itself, writing on the paper. The picture moved slightly, the character stirring the cauldron. Then the animated picture reset and repeated.

In another photo, two persons stood facing each other, holding purposefully shaped wooden sticks, pointing them at each other. Bright lights exploded from the tips of the sticks, and their robes and hair swayed with strong winds.

In the last photo, a person was wearing a uniform of sorts, with a helmet and pads on their knees and elbows. They held an old broomstick between their knees, and metal hinges held on the back close to the bristles, like a hitch for the feet. In the picture, the person grabbed onto the end of the broomstick and shot into the air, like magic. It gave image to the stereotype of witches flying on brooms in the night.

“The Old Religion died out because the land lost its magic. Only select spots held magical creatures and natural magic. Magic was only preserved through the New Religion, and those who practiced the New Religion became witches and wizards. The lot of them went into hiding and created their own society – the wizarding world.”

“In today’s day and age, magic is passed down through genetics. And sometimes, those with magic cores can be born to those with no magic at all. The population of magic users stays stable, and there is balance in the world of magic …” Chiron winced. “Mostly.”

“But these people have lost contact with the Triple Goddess. They no longer worship or prayer to her. They rely solely on their own magic, not what comes naturally from the land, like in the Old Religion. And recently, war has passed for them. The Second Wizarding War ended four months ago. And this has severely depleted their resources and magic. There is a school for the magic users, used as the stronghold during the war, and now the wizarding world’s hero is returning to finish his studies.”

“His moniker is ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and he’s called Harry Potter. But he was only a child – is only a child. He and his peers are children who have been used to fight a war that they shouldn’t have had to fight.” Chiron looked very grim.

Percy bitterly sank back in his seat.

“We were kids, too.”

Chiron sighed. “This war has thrown the balance of magic out of whack. The natural magic has been depleted for too long, and there are those who are actively tipping the balance to sabotage the magic for their own gain. It’s suspected that the dark forces from the war – Death Eaters – are still operating in the shadows. It is because of this that the Triple Goddess has called upon you as heroes to help restore the wizarding world and save magic.”

“You would only be obligated to attend the school of Hogwarts until you uncovered the source of oppression over magic, so the Death Eaters can be caught and restrained. If you choose to accept, of course.”

Percy eyed him sharply. “You say that as if we have a choice.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Despite what you think, yes, you do.”

“But this is from a whole other pantheon,” Nico said. “A group of magical people who don’t even believe in the goddess who brought about their magic. Why do we have to fix this?”

More silence.

Chiron looked down on them unapologetically.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Annabeth. Chiron seriously expected them to just up and leave Camp for this quest. Barely a month had passed since their own war, and they were getting by as they were. Percy didn’t believe Camp Half-Blood could afford to lose any support or cabin counselors, even for a short period of time.

“So, let me get this straight,” Percy said. “Basically – if I just ignore the little prologue, you gave there – you want us to go to this magical school, on orders of a goddess that’s almost faded, stalk a kid, and watch out for people who like to try to rob the world of magic – magic, which they use themselves.”

Chiron looked pained. “No, I don’t believe they’re purposefully robbing the world of magic.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up.” Percy threw his hands in the air.

“Regardless, you understand what’s being asked. This is a quest, technically coming from Hecate, as a favour for the Triple Goddess. It’s valid as a hero’s quest. It was decided it would be best that you go undercover as transfer students and secretly watch over Harry Potter, the target for most Death Eaters. Your goal is to prevent trouble before it gets serious, though I doubt that will be hard, as trouble always manages to find you –”

“Wait, hold on,” Percy said, still hung-up on the quest. “How are we supposed to fit in at a school for the magically gifted? None of us are wizards.”

“Oh, that is something that can easily be fixed,” Chiron said, dismissing the problem.

“Excuse me?!” Thalia said.

“Hecate considered this quest from the Triple Goddess for a long time before coming to me.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he had the least faith in the gods. They never gave him anything to have faith in.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at the camp director. “And how exactly does Hecate plan on ‘fixing’ the problem? I don’t see any obvious solutions. We’re demigods, not wizards.”

Chiron shifted awkwardly. “She has not shared that with me. I have only gotten the request that you undertake this quest for the Old Religion, and that she will visit to prepare you.”

Percy felt like grinding his teeth. “Oh, so she just expected us to accept the quest. She never considered us refusing? Why can’t the wizards fix their own problem?” Chiron said nothing. “Camp is still in shambles – we don’t even have all the cabins rebuilt yet! We can’t leave, not now. There’s still too much work to do here, and too many new demigods to watch over and protect. And have you even considered that maybe we don’t want to go on this quest? That maybe we want a break? My entire childhood was prophecy after prophecy, quest after quest, serving the gods. We’re under no obligation to do this. You can tell Hecate that she can stick her magic wands up –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because Annabeth had already taken a ping pong paddle and smashed a ping pong ball in his direction, the mutual action used to keep order in camp counselor meetings.

“BALL!” Annabeth yelled, slamming her paddle across the table.

Percy scowled and took his seat again.

“Now, Percy,” she said sweetly, leaning over the table. “Where did you say Hecate could put those wands?”

“Nowhere,” he muttered.

Annabeth acquiesced and put the paddle down.

“Where is this school anyway?” Nico asked. He frowned. “And Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?”

“It resides in Scotland, its exact location unknown and hidden by powerful magic. Outside of the school, which is an ancient and famous monument for the wizarding world, there are other magical establishments. One place you will be required to visit is Diagon Alley, a wizarding market. That’s where you’ll collect your resources for going undercover at school.”

“Again, you’re saying all this like we’ve agreed to go,” Percy mumbled.

He was ignored. Thalia raised her hand, her features etched with confusion. “Okay, I hate to be the one to say it – but how are we supposed to blend in with wizards and witches? We can’t use magic, and we know nothing about their world.”

Chiron admitted he didn’t know how Hecate would find ways around the problems. “She has informed me that, only once the quest is accepted, will she come and discuss the details. In fact, she should be arriving any moment –”

What happened next could not have been anymore dramatic.

There was a blinding flash of light – the glow filling the entire room – and it forced the demigods to cover their eyes lest they go blind from laying eyes upon a god’s true form.

All eyes landed on the goddess, technically titaness.

Hecate appeared as a tall, thin woman. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a kekryphalos, the shining coil twisting and adorned with intricate gems and metals. Loose strands of hair framed her sickly pale face, which held sharp chartreuse yellow eyes. She wore a dark chiton robe that draped over her thin figure, and it seemed to ripple like a heat hallucination, like ink spilling off to the ground.

At her feet, she was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever and a polecat.

The demigods all stood as one and politely bowed, as was common for all gods. Percy glared up through his bow as he followed reluctantly.

“Rise, my young heroes.” The goddess’ voice was smooth and rich. She sounded monotone. “You have done more than enough to prove your worth to me, and for that, I know that I can trust you. I have called you four here on special request from the Triple Goddess, who has observed your acts of heroics. She believes you can save the wizarding world, her beloved kin, and magics.”

“You will use the ways of the Old Religion to learn magics and go undercover. As demigods, you already have magical cores. They just need to be trained; refined.”

Percy scowled.

“And will the oh-so-gracious Triple Goddess be visiting us herself?”

Annabeth shot him a scathing look.

“Percy!” She hissed.

Hecate eyed Percy again, as if reappraising him. “No,” she said, after a tense silence. “You will be sent to get your wands from one who still practices the Old Religion and can pair you with an appropriate wand. Your cover stories are fabricated and with the wandmaker. The Triple Goddess does not appear without dire need.”

“Her entire world being in trouble seems pretty dire to me,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Annabeth elbowed him harshly.

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“This,” she said, pulling a laminated piece of paper out of thin air, “is called a portkey. It is an enchanted item; when touched by the intended people, or random persons, it can magically teleport you to a predetermined location.”

She held it out to demigods.

On it, in fancy letters, it read: Littletree Farms, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts.

“Touch this, all at once, and you will have accepted the quest.”

Chiron gave them an encouraging nod. The demigods all shared exchanged looks.

“Our responsibilities …” Thalia started, subconsciously reaching up to grab at her lieutenant circlet, from the Hunters of Artemis.

“Will be forgiven for the time while on quest,” Hecate assured. “The Triple Goddess does not ask favours lightly. This has the potential to spill into the real world; to affect our pantheon. The Old Religion is younger than the Greek pantheon, but its reach goes far and wide. The Triple Goddess is powerful; no harm will befall your precious little Camp while you are away.”

Nico hesitated, but was the first to reach for the paper. “If this is really that important … why ask for us specifically? A larger group, organized and planned, could do better.”

“The Triple Goddess has observed you, and believes you are the right heroes to help save magic.”

“But right now? This instant? Can’t we have time?”

“You will come back to your little Camp before you leave for Europe.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, then also reached for it. “Okay.”

Percy looked at her, askance. “Okay? Just like that?”

Annabeth shrugged. “A quest is a quest, and someone needs help. We are in peace right now and have no threats. I don’t see why not.”

“Fine,” Percy said, tone short. He looked over at the laminated paper. “So, this will take us where? What’s in Boston that could be so magical?”

“A wand wood farm,” Hecate said, smiling thinly. “And your quest starts now.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to the paper, where Hecate had pushed it into their collective hands unwillingly. Then the world began to spin, and there was a sharp tug in his gut, yanking him out of time and space.

#pjo #hp #percy jackson #harry potter #pjo x hp #crossover #percy #annabeth #nico #thalia #part 1 #magic percy

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hotchley · 3 years ago

Text

balls fair in love and war

So... this is the fic inspired by the AU in this post. Umm... it's a shambles, I low-key hate parts of it, the ending is rushed, but we're going with it before my laptop dies </3

Ignore any and all medical inaccuracies. I did a bit of research, but a lot of it confused me, so... this is not an accurate representation of a concussion. Like seriously. Also ignore any ethical issues, they're just... it's fine. As usual no proofreading. Umm.... don't ask where Rossi is. I don't know.

Taglist (I guess? I don't actually have one, it's just for this lol): @eldrai @willlemonheadsupremacy @shmaptainhotchnersmain @sarcvstiel @unionjackpillow @katytheinspiredworkaholic (you said you would read it so... is that okay?)

A very big and grateful thank you to @aaron-hotchner187 for giving me a title!! And to everyone else that gave suggestions, you are also much loved <3

Also, the way Hotch acts as a teacher is inspired by the way I think @ellyhotchner will be when they become a teacher <3 and everyone go and tell @whump-town thank you because she: told me about penlights, gave me the easy tiger line and is just overall a good person.

Trigger Warnings: concussions, fear of brain hemorrhages, hospitals, self-blame

read on ao3!

Like most things that went wrong in Aaron Hotchner’s life, his current predicament could be blamed on Emily Prentiss. He would not hear otherwise. And he didn’t think he should be forced to hear otherwise, given he was the one sitting on a hospital bed in a thin gown that did nothing to keep him warm, whilst she got to sit outside with a cup of coffee.

She had, admittedly, looked absolutely horrified when the accident occured, and had spent the whole journey to the hospital apologising again and again. He’s pretty sure she offered up her first-born child to him at some point as a form of penance. As well as her apartment. And he definitely remembers hearing something about grading his papers for him.

So whilst he may not want to be anywhere near her offspring- especially if they’re like her- and whilst he may definitely not want her apartment- he doesn’t care what she says, it is haunted- he will be taking her up on that last offer. Did he feel suitably appeased by her squirming the whole time, and by the fact that she was the one that had to explain to the principal why there were two classes screaming, crying and a teacher on the floor?

Yes, but there was no harm in milking it.

If he’s being completely honest, he felt like he was taking advantage of a hospital bed. He was sure he was fine. Yes, it hurts to move his head and he feels dizzy, and he probably has all the symptoms of a minor concussion, but he just really doesn’t want to be in the hospital.

Besides, he needs to make sure the kids aren't traumatised. It can’t have been easy for them, watching him just fall to the ground and hit his head hard enough for there to be blood. Emily could be traumatised, he didn’t care. But their students? Absolutely not.

He sighs. He wants to hand in his resignation now. Going back is going to be so embarrassing.

“I don’t think you understand. He is my best friend, and if he doesn’t get this blanket, he will- Spencer, what will he do if he doesn’t get this blanket?” A voice says from outside.

Aaron closes his eyes. He wants the ground to swallow him up. Forget returning to school, the next few minutes of his life are going to be even more embarrassing than the time Emily tricked him into being part of the Christmas pantomime. Haley hadn’t been offended, thank goodness, but still. It took him three months to be able to meet her eyes.

“He’ll- he’ll- I can’t even say it, it’s just so upsetting,” Spencer lies.

“Ma’am, sir, if you would let me speak for two seconds. Miss Prentiss said that some of her colleagues would be coming with Mr Hotchner’s things. All I am asking for is proof of identity,” the floor receptionist says.

The apologies immediately start to pour from the mouth of Penelope Garcia, whilst Spencer Reid just takes out both their driver's licences. The receptionist clearly approves, because before Aaron knows what’s happening, he’s being embraced by someone who smells like roses, and his favourite blanket is being draped over him.

“Oh my goodness, you don’t know how grateful I am that you’re alive,” Penelope says.

Aaron gives her a slight smile. Penelope is one of his favourite people, despite all their differences. And he likes to think he’s one of her favourites. He wouldn’t be thinking wrong.

“Penelope, I’m fine. Seriously. This is just a precaution. I promise it isn’t that bad,” he says, even though the light is starting to hurt his eyes.

“Isn’t that bad? I saw you and Emily taking your classes outside, which was weird to begin with because you both have classes that don’t require being outside, what were you doing? And then, I’m watching because the class can be trusted to sketch without my guidance and I’m curious. But then I turn my back for three seconds to help someone, and everyone is screaming, and you’re on the floor, and there’s blood everywhere and- it was scary!” she says.

“I’m so sorry,” Aaron says, for lack of anything else to say.

“I don’t want you to be sorry! I want you to stop getting hurt!” Penelope exclaims, whacking him in the shoulder.

“I don’t want you to be sorry either. It was hilarious to watch, my students were in hysterics,” Spencer adds. Penelope glares.

Aaron isn’t surprised. Him and Spencer get on- they even have shared interests- but they also have some of the same classes. And as a result of the different subjects and ways they teach, it seems to them that it is impossible for their students to like them both.

“So, not that I don’t appreciate it, but why are you here?” He asks.

Spencer and Penelope glance at each other, and Hotch feels like he’s dealing with two students that have tried to set up two of his friends.

“Garcia. Reid,” he says. In the same tone he uses when dealing with two students that have tried to set up two of his friends.

“We thought that if we came, JJ wouldn’t, but uhh-” Spencer starts.

JJ bursts into the room before he can finish. “”Hotch! What happened? I mean, I’ve heard what happened because Strauss came and told me the basics, but still. Why were the two of you in the playground? Are you okay? Let me see that bump on your head. I also brought your lunch in case you were peckish.”

“Well basically-”

“Why does Emily look like she’s about to start crying?” Haley asks, entering.

Everyone but JJ turns and stares at her with a slight look of horror. Aaron slides down the bed slightly, hoping the blanket can cover the furious blush that he just knows stains his cheeks. Him and Haley went on a date once, after he asked her in a moment of impulsivity. It was the worst thing he’d ever done, for both of them.

“Oh come on guys, we’re professionals. JJ asked me to come because apparently, Aaron listens to me? I said he’s just too afraid of me to disobey. Which, I meant as a joke, but you do know that I don’t hate you right? Sure, the date was a disaster, but you do know we can still be friends?”

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me,” he confesses.

“That’s why I brought her with me. To prove you wrong,” JJ says. “But yes, why is Emily so upset?”

“Because I almost killed my best friend and traumatised our students and I’ve ruined his life and our careers and he can get me fired and press charges, but all I wanted to do was make him laugh, and this is the first place where I’ve felt appreciated, and I’m going to lose it all,” Emily sobs from outside.

“Can you bring her in?” He asks Penelope.

She obliges, and Hotch pats the area next to him. Emily sits beside him, wiping her eyes on the corner of the extra blanket they brought.

“You didn’t almost kill me, it’s a mild concussion at most. Our students have seen worse, and they will be fine. My life is not ruined because you will be doing my grading. I’m not going to get you fired or press charges, and you’re not about to lose any of this. Okay?”

“You always know what to say,” she says.

He ruffles her hair.

“Love you. Platonically,” he tells her.

She gives him a bright smile, and he can feel himself smiling back, less embarrassed about everything.

And then she starts laughing hysterically, and deliberately shoves him, causing him to almost fall out of the bed, only stopped by Haley and Dave each grabbing one of his arms and pushing him back up. Of course, Emily just looks at him like she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I cannot believe you fell for that. As if I would ever be that upset. Honestly. Haley, maybe I should replace you as drama teacher!”

Haley raises an eyebrow. “Ah yes, because the last time you got others involved in theatre, it ended so well.”

Emily has nothing to say.

Aaron does. He turns and swears in French.

“Naughty boy. Don’t let anyone else hear you. Especially not my class, I told them what that meant after you said it when I stole your stapler and then told you I’d given it to Miss Brooks.”

He pales.

“Speaking of your classes, how did this happen?” Haley asks, clearly sensing the need for a change in topic.

Emily looks at Aaron.

“It was your fault!” he says.

“Well it was your idea!” she counters.

He sighs. “So what happened was…”

Hotch and Emily’s classrooms are next to each other. To Hotch, this is both a blessing and a curse. It means he could keep an eye on her. It also means he had to keep an eye on her. See, Emily isn't irresponsible, and she would never actually endanger her students, but sometimes, she leans towards danger.

How, when she teaches modern languages, is beyond Hotch, but regardless. Strauss had actually hired Emily, not just for her abilities, but because she believed someone needed to keep an eye on Hotch. How the times have changed.

Hotch is on break duty, and he can't see anyone from his class. Which is weird. He tries to keep their lives as stress-free as possible, and he was always willing to help anyone that needs it, but certain assessments could not be avoided. But still, he expects to see at least one of them outside, if only to get a few minutes of fresh air.

Emily smiles at him sympathetically before she walks into her classroom. It is like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. Sympathy from Emily isn't comforting. Not when it was aimed at him. If anything, it just makes him more scared. The last time she had looked at him like that, he had explained how his date with Haley had gone from one disaster to another.

And then she laughed.

So he pushes the door open, stepping back in case something fell on him. It wouldn't have been the first time. But nothing does. So he steps into his classroom, expecting to see his eleventh grade literature class doing something suspicious.

They aren't, and suddenly he understands exactly why Emily had looked at him like that.

Because his class has never looked so upset or defeated. And his heart breaks for all of them. It has been a while since he was fifteen, but he wouldn't ever forget the feeling of helplessness that seemed to define his existence. Nor would he forget how everything felt like too much and not enough.

"What happened?" He asks them gently.

Violet, a quiet girl that always tells him what Miss Prentiss had said about him, burst into tears. One of her friends patted her back, but it's clear they didn't quite know what they were doing. Neither does Hotch, but goddammit, these are his kids. Nobody is going to hurt them.

"Hey, it's okay. Do you want to go somewhere else?" He asks her.

She shakes her head. "I just- I want all of this to be over, but then I don't because it means going to college and leaving here and having to grow up, but I just- I have no fucking idea what I'm doing and it's all too much."

He winces at the use of swear words, because he is still a teacher, but that also means he feels a sense of pride that she's able to voice what it is. Because now, he may not be able to fix the situation, but he can help.

"I know. That's okay. That's normal. And you'll work it out. You know, I almost became a lawyer."

She looks up, her eyes red, but starting to sparkle again. "A lawyer."

"Yep, I almost also applied to the FBI Academy. It was actually Miss Prentiss that talked me out of that one. Well, it wasn't really talking but the true story is a little too… inappropriate for school."

"I can't imagine you doing either of those. You'd get bored as a lawyer, and you would never smile as an FBI agent," Clarissa says.

Hotch blinks.

She shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then she offers him a piece of candyfloss, which he rejects.

He checks his lesson plan. And then his planner. And then the calendar he keeps on his table. Emily always makes fun of him for being so organised, but Spencer admires it, and that makes him feel cool, so he focuses on that instead.

"I have a compromise. We don't need to do a lesson today, we have more than enough time to cover everything because we're already ahead. I let you do whatever you want for the remainder of the lesson- whether that's colouring or crying or dancing. But you have to do it outside. I didn't see any of you at break."

"Really?" Violet asks.

He nods. "Of course."

Everyone cheers, and grabs their bags, clearly ready to not use their brains for a bit. Aaron gives them the most warm smile he can manage, but he can't help the small surge of guilt that accompanies his lack of realisation.

As his class exits, happily chattering away to each other, Emily pokes her head out the door.

"Mr Hotch, what are you doing, and can I join?"

Immediately, all eyes are on him.

"Please?" Violet asks.

Clarissa pulls out the puppy eyes.

Thomas falls to his knees.

"Oh my god, yes fine, okay, just- everyone be quiet before Strauss finds out and shouts at me," he says.

Emily runs back inside, and soon, they're all just milling about and having fun on the playground. It's nice, both for the students, and the teachers, to have a bit of a break from the world, and to spend a few moments away from it all. Some of them are running around, playing a game of tag, some of them are simply sitting around, and a few are colouring.

"Do you still like playing catch?" Emily asks him.

"What?"

"Catch. Remember, you used to play it with Sean all the time when we were in college."

"I mean yeah, I would probably get involved, but I'm not quite sure-"

"Think fast!" She shouts, and she lobs a netball at him.

The last thing he thinks, moments before his head meets the ground with a large amount of force- enough for there to be a small amount of blood- is: how is it always her? Every single time he gets into a situation, it's her that causes it. That has to be statistically impossible. Maybe he should ask Spencer…

"So yeah! And now I'm here!" He shoves Emily, who has the audacity to look offended.

Penelope kisses his forehead. Haley laughs a little, but Reid just blinks like he can't quite believe how stupid his co-workers are.

"Well. From what I've heard, it was a pretty good shot," JJ comments.

Haley turns to her. "From everything we've just been told, that's what you choose to pick out?"

"I'm a gym teacher, can you really blame me?"

Emily mutters something.

"You were what?" Garcia asks.

"I was aiming for his leg," she repeats.

"Emily. I know you teach languages, not biology, but look at me. Head," Hotch says, pointing at the bump he's not going to cover up, "Leg." He points at his ankle.

"It's always lovely when people know their anatomy. Saves me a lot of time," a new voice says.

Hotch turns in the direction of it, ready to make a snarky comment, but whatever words he had thought of die on his lips as he suddenly feels like he's been transported into a medical drama full of unrealistically attractive protagonists.

Because the doctor who has just walked in is the most handsome man he has ever seen. His smile is easy and genuine, and his eyes seem to twinkle with mischief. And his arms, oh god his arms seem like the safest place to exist. Aaron can't help but wonder what it would be like to have those arms wrapped around him-

His cheeks warm. No.

"Hi, I'm Dr Morgan. But you can all call me Derek. I'm here for Aaron Hotchner. Who I am going to assume, is you," he says, looking straight at Hotch.

"I- yes. How did you know?"

Dr Morgan- Derek- somehow smiles even more. "Well, even though there are far too many people in here- did all of you somehow miss the two people at one time sign- you are the only one in a hospital bed wearing a hospital gown, so. I'm no profiler, but it was pretty easy."

If it's even possible, his cheeks flush more. But one word sticks out to him. "Wait, profiler?"

"You got me. Crime procedurals are my guilty pleasure. I always said that if I joined the FBI, I would become a profiler. Obviously, I went down a very different route."

"Obviously. Wait, too many people? Oh god, I'm so, so sorry, if you need them to leave, they can. In fact, I also feel a lot better, so if you would like me to also go, I really, it's no trouble."

Because he is an idiot- there really is no other justification for this- he tries to stand up. And he does. He also gets a few steps in before the world starts spinning and he almost loses his balance. Derek somehow moves fast enough to guide him back to the bed. Aaron tries and fails to ignore how warm he is.

"Thanks," he whispers, slightly breathless. And not just from almost hurting himself again.

"It's not a problem Aaron. Both things. Your friends can stay, we're just doing some simple checks," Derek says.

"Oh everyone calls him Hotch," Penelope says.

"Aaron is fine. Really." Because he likes Derek calling him Aaron. He wants Derek to call him Aaron.

And then he meets Emily's eyes and he realises his mistake. There's a common denominator that exists with everyone that he tells to call him Aaron, and he knows that she knows what it is. He's fucked.

"Okay then. Well, can you explain to me what happened?"

Aaron is mesmerised by Derek's eyes. So mesmerised that he forgets to answer. "Sorry, what?"

There's a flash of concern, replaced by a smile. "Can you tell me how you ended up here?"

"Oh yes. So, I'm a teacher- so is everyone here. And I- I was outside, with my- my students when Emily- that one there- she, look, it's a really mild concussion, can I just be discharged? I'm sure my students are very, uhh, very scared," he stutters. Why can he never function when he likes someone? It's mortifying.

"I'm sure it is, but you can't blame me for doing my job. I'm going to take your heart rate now, okay? The stethoscope will be cold, but it'll warm up eventually," Derek says.

Aaron nods, and barely flinches when it touches him. If anything, he's more concerned by how close Derek seems to be. Not in a malicious way, but he's always had this deeply irrational fear that if someone got too close to him, they'd be able to read his thoughts. Which would mean Derek can hear both the fact that he has a crush and that he has this fear.

Derek pulls away, and Aaron exhales.

"Your heart rate is unusually fast. Normally that wouldn't be too concerning, because we expect that when patients seem anxious, but you've seemed pretty calm, up till this moment," Derek says, noting how Aaron tenses.

"Is he going to be okay?" Penelope asks.

Derek turns to her. "Of course he is. He's in good hands."

Aaron needs to get his mind out the gutter before his cheeks explode. Or before Emily opens her mouth.

"Aaron, I know you think the concussion is mild, but this is still a requirement. I'm going to turn on this penlight, and I'm going to ask you to follow it with your eyes okay? Follow the light," Derek explains.

He nods, and Derek turns the penlight on. Aaron flinches at the brightness of it, then tenses in slight fear that his lovely doctor is going to be annoyed at him or call him difficult, or sigh and say he needs to stop acting like a child. It wouldn't be the first time,

But Derek doesn't do any of those things. He does something very different.

He places his hand on Aaron's thigh. "Easy tiger. I won't hurt you," he says.

Aaron melts. His eyes drop down to where Derek's hand is warming his skin. He thinks Derek says his name, but he's too busy having a crush to hear him. And then suddenly, his thigh is cold, but Derek is touching his shoulder and he should be shying away from the light being shone in his eyes. But he isn't because he's too busy looking at Derek and his beautiful eyes to even pay attention.

Rather late, he remembers that there is a reason for Derek to be looking at him the way he is, and he tries to follow the light. But the headache he's had since he came around is only getting worse, and the light isn't helping.

Derek isn't smiling anymore.

"Aaron. Be very honest with me. You've displayed difficulty with coordination, memory and speech. If I asked you whether or not you felt sick or nauseous, what would your answer be?"

Normally, he would just under exaggerate, but Derek seems to genuinely care. So he chooses to be honest.

"Yes?"

Derek's eyes widen. "Aaron, I don't want to alarm you, but I like to keep my patients informed. You're going to have a CT scan done immediately, and there's a chance you may be rushed into emergency surgery."

Everyone, including Emily, starts to panic, but Derek leaves the room to grab a nurse to help, and to tell someone else to make sure there's a clear room. Aaron isn't completely sure what's happening, but his head is killing him, so he lays down again. It only helps a small amount.

For Aaron, the CT scan isn't too bad. If he knew the reason it was being done, and that it wasn't a routine procedure, he would probably have spent the whole time panicking. But he doesn't, and so he sits there- well lies there- with a slight smile on his face. The migraine he's had has been getting worse, so keeping his eyes closed for such an extended period of time is actually quite enjoyable.

It is far less enjoyable for everyone that is upstairs, waiting to find out whether or not their friend has a brain hemorrhage. That's what Derek told them after Aaron was carted away, still seeming very out of it. They needed to test him for a brain bleed. And if he had one, then it would just be a case of waiting to see whether they could treat him. And even if they could treat him, it wasn't guaranteed that he would get back to normal.

Emily, in spite of all of her teasing comments, isn't coping. Because it's still early, the floor is relatively quiet, and Derek is technically on his lunch break, so he's sitting with them in an attempt to provide them with some sort of comfort. He's not sure where this emotional attachment to these random people has come from, but it's formed itself and now he's determined to provide some comfort.

"I really was aiming for his leg," Emily whispers.

"Hmm?" Derek asks, not quite following.

"When I threw the ball, I really was aiming for his leg. He had lost consciousness by this point, but I started crying when he hit the ground. He forgave me. He told me he loved me, platonically that is, and I laughed at him. He's going to die, and he isn't going to know how much he meant to me."

"He's not going to die. He may not even have a brain bleed. But if he does, we're going to save him, and you're going to be able to spend the rest of your life telling him how much he means to you. I promise," Derek says.

Even though there are tears in her eyes, Emily turns to him and smiles. "You're a good man, Dr Morgan."

"That's all I've ever wanted, Miss Prentiss. So thank you. It means a lot to me." And it does. He replays the moment as he goes over to Spencer and Penelope, who he feels a strange sense of protection over. Like he needs to protect them from everything, which is weird, because once Aaron is discharged, he'll probably never see them again.

That shouldn't make him sad, but it does.

"Mr Hotchner's CT scan came back normal. There's no sign of a brain bleed," the nurse tells them, what feels like a lifetime later.

There's a collective sigh of relief, and when he's wheeled back in, looking tired but alive, Emily throws her arms around her best friend, who lets out a soft sound of surprise. Like he's not quite used to the fact that people love him. Derek smiles. His patient will be in good hands when he gets discharged.

"Wait, so what caused all of those problems?" Spencer asks.

The nurse shrugs. "It's probably as simple as: his concussion was more severe than we initially thought, but not as bad as we feared."

"Oh."

"And on that note, Aaron, we're keeping you overnight for observation. It's just to be safe. We can't be too careful. You gave everyone a very big scare when you got sent out," Derek says.

Aaron cannot, and will not, confess. Does he feel guilty? Yes. But he can live with the guilt. He cannot live with the all-encompassing shame that will come with explaining that actually, the reason he was stuttering and failing the penlight test was because of a silly little crush.

"Okay," he says, determined to be as compliant as possible.

"One- and only one- of you is welcome to stay with him, if you'd like," Derek adds.

Haley's eyes light up. "I'll do it! Jessica can bring me my things, and maybe you'll be able to look at me after we've spent another night together. Only this time, nobody's getting pneumonia. I hope so, at least. You're not cold are you?"

Aaron shakes his head. "But you really don't need to stay. I'll be fine on my own. Seriously."

"I know, but I want to. Believe it or not, I do actually enjoy your company."

He smiles.

"We should all be getting a move on. Jason and Erin will want updates, and I have lots of marking," JJ says. She kisses Hotch on the forehead before walking to the door, smiling at Derek for looking after her friend so well.

Spencer waves from where he's standing and Penelope showers him with affection. Emily is the only one that seems hesitant to leave.

"Can I stay till visiting hours end?" She asks.

"Do you feel like you can keep up with these two lovely ladies Aaron?" Derek asks.

Aaron has never enjoyed the sound of his name as much as he does when it comes from the doctor. "I- sure," he stutters, and he just knows his cheeks are a stupid colour. Emily frowns, as though she finds something suspicious.

Derek smiles. "Good man. I'll be back in a few hours to run the same tests as before. For now, take it easy."

Derek doesn't come back a few hours later, because he has other patients. It's a different doctor, and Aaron is both relieved and disappointed. Because on the one hand, he's not going to create another medical crisis, on the other, he wants to see Derek again.

Maybe he can get Emily to knock him out again…

"Your heart rate seems completely normal. And you followed the penlight exceptionally well, so I believe we have nothing to fear. Of course, you'll stay overnight, and we'll run these tests once more before you're discharged tomorrow, but I think we're out of the woods now," they say.

Emily gasps, and Aaron knows he's screwed. Luckily, both the doctor and Haley seem to not have heard, and she leaves with the doctor, so Aaron doesn't have to know right at that moment whether his suspicions are correct.

"Night Hotchner," Haley says a few minutes later.

Hotch is already asleep.

The entire team comes and collects him from the hospital.

Aaron is just grateful they're sending him home with a pack of all the things he now needs to do, because he spent the whole lecture admiring how handsome Derek looks with sun shining down on him that he didn't take any of it in. It's also Derek's signature on the discharge papers. He's reminded of high school, when he and his friends would make fake marriage certificates. Not that he's going to do that.

"Bye Aaron. I don't want to see you here any time soon, okay?" Derek teases.

"I won't make any promises," he replies, just relieved he does it without stuttering or blushing.

Derek smiles, and the twinkle in his eyes seems even more mischievous. "Miss Prentiss," he says, spotting Emily.

"Dr Morgan," she responds. She's smirking.

When Aaron asks her what was going on, she doesn't answer. Haley says it's probably linked to the emotions of the previous day, and she's usually good at reading these situations, so he doesn't push any further. Besides, he's too busy catching up with the meetings he missed, and the antics of his students, because a lot happened in the three days he was off, to give it much thought.

Two weeks pass, and the incident is almost completely forgotten.

But then he walks back into his classroom, having just finished a meeting, and he finds flowers on his desk. Tulips. His favourite. He immediately pulls the note out, and when he opens it, he almost wonders if he's concussed it.

Because he knows that signature. He's been staring at it for fourteen days. It's Derek's.

"Surprise. Aaron," a voice says for the doorway.

"How- what- I- what?"

Derek Morgan, still in scrubs and a white coat, smiles at him. "Want to pick a question I can actually answer?"

"How did you- what are you doing here? And why?"

"Well, you should thank Emily. After the other doctor took your heart rate, she came and told me her suspicion. Apparently, you always say you're Hotch. Even the students call you Mr Hotch. Which is strange, because I call you Aaron. And, you shouldn't have done the penlight flawlessly if you had a more severe concussion. So she thinks you have a crush. I didn't want to be unethical, so those flowers can simply mean: I hope you're coping. If you don't have a crush that is."

"What if I do?" Aaron asks, surprised at his own boldness.

"Then I would ask if I could kiss you before I take you out to dinner," Derek says, not missing a beat.

"And if I said yes?"

Derek takes three long strides, and he kisses Aaron like it's something he was made to do. Aaron melts against him, trying to memorise him as quickly as he can, before he realises he has all the time in the world to do that. Because Derek is going to take him out to dinner. Derek, who brought him flowers.

"That was- wow. Wait. You have a crush on me too!" Aaron exclaims with a grin.

"Of course I do," Derek says.

That stuns Aaron back into silence. "Wow," he whispers to himself.

Derek hugs him, and being in his arms is everything- no more- than Aaron imagined it to be. "I'm glad you're okay," he says.

"I'm glad you don't hate me," Aaron says, because he really doesn't know what else to say.

Derek laughs, and Aaron can't wait to find all the ways he can make that happen.

"We should say thank you to Emily at some point. If she didn't know you as well as she does, she wouldn't have realised you had a crush. And if she wasn't so terrifying when she wants something good for her friends, I wouldn't have sent the flowers."

"Can we say thank you later? I want to stay like this for a few moments," Aaron whispers, snuggling closer to his new boyfriend.

"Of course we can," Derek says, kissing his forehead.

When they eventually make it to Derek's car- Aaron can come back tomorrow and get his, it'll be fine, Aaron realises he has one more thing to say.

"Derek?"

"Yes, sweetness?"

Well. That makes him feel things he won't confess too, because he needs something to make him seem the slightest bit cool.

"I'm really sorry I made you think I had a brain hemorrhage."

Derek's laughter is so real that Aaron can't help but join in, and they end up not starting the car for five minutes because it would be irresponsible to drive in that state. And it's only when they're pulling out that they both realise something: Derek gets to see Aaron's family again, and Emily didn't need to hit him in the head again for him to get to see Derek again.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotchgan #mortch #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #tw concussion #tw brain hemorrhages #tw hospitals #tw self blame

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janetbrown711 · 4 years ago

Note

"you've always been strong for me. let me return the favor." Angelina 2 to William 🥺

To say William woke up feeling refreshed would be the most obvious lie of all time.

His first thought in his painfully groggy head of his was of his location. From what he could sense, it wasn’t familiar. The beds felt cheap, nothing like the royal silk sheets he had gotten used to at the palace.

His second thought was of Lena. He couldn’t feel her presence, which caused him to snap his eyes open and look for her.

This third thought was remembering what had happened.

Freeing Wakko. Hurting his arm. The attack.

He tried sitting up but a wave of pain shot through his whole body and he was forced to sit back down. However, he looked across the room and saw her.

Lena was in a bed across the room from him, and it hurt his neck to look at her, but he couldn’t look away. He had never seen her with so many bruises and bandages around her in his life. It broke his heart.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” The familiar voice of his childhood best friend, Helloise Nerz, spoke softly. “How are you feeling?”

How was he feeling? Almost every inch of his body ached and hurt, his wife somehow appearing worse than him, and he was miles and miles away from his children, who he already missed terribly.

“Right... poor question,” She apologized. “How much do you remember?”

He thought a moment.

“Last thing I remember is passing out on your doorstep,” He said. She nodded.

“Good, because that was the last thing that happened,” She said.

“So... what’s wrong with me, doc?” He joked a little. Helloise chuckled.

“Nurse. Scratchy is the real doc, I’m just the assistant,” She remarked.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Helloise. I’m sure you could run this place if you had to,” He said. She snorted.

“You’ve got a terribly sprained arm that I noticed was already bandaged, but you’ve made much worse, I presume from carrying her highness. You also have a torn ligament in your right ankle, minor frostbite, and numerous pulled muscles throughout your legs,” she read off of a chart.

“And Lena?” He asked.

“Broken rib, a minor concussion from what we can tell, fractured fibula, severe bruising on the face, minor frostbite, and blood loss from a severe wound in the right shoulder we cleaned and stitched up.”

William looked at his wife again.

“How long have we been asleep?” He asked.

“Three days,” She said. William blinked.

“Th-three days?” he asked.

She sighed. “William...” she sat on the edge of his bed.

“The whole kingdom thinks you two are dead, and honestly, you two are lucky to be alive.”

“What? Why? How? What about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they alright?” He tried sitting up, but the wave of pain reminded him not to.

“Well, her majesty the queen threw a funeral two days ago. They said attackers stormed the castle in the night and killed the two of you,” She explained.

“But what about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they okay?” He asked.

“I haven’t heard any news of the three of them, so they should be alright with the queen.”

“If you could consider being with the queen alright,” he muttered.

“Right... She wasn’t the best mother, right?” She remembered. He shook his head, sighing. Just then, a low grumble came from across the room, and Lena began to stir.

“What... where... Will..?” she mumbled as her eyes slowly opened and she took in her surroundings. William wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, but the numerous injuries Helloise had informed him about kept him where he was. Instead, the good nurse went over and started evaluating and explaining the situation to her.

“D-dead..?” Her face went pale as a ghost. “That means... They’re with... we have to go. Now,” She looked at William, and started climbing out of her bed, nearly collapsing immediately if it hadn’t been for Helloise catching her.

“Your highness, you can’t. You need to recover,” She said, laying her back down.

“I can’t leave them with her- I can’t,” She shook her head.

“Lena...” He said softly. She looked at him for a moment, before lying back down and looking away, her expression mostly unreadable. Just then, the doctor came in.

“Oh goodie, you two are awake,” He said, but he quickly read the room.

“Er... how are you two feeling?” He asked. William shrugged, while Lena remained silently looking away.

He then pulled the nurse back outside to talk for a moment, promising it wouldn’t be long. William nodded and let them go, and his eyes went to Lena.

She wouldn’t look at him, even when he said her name. Something was deeply, deeply wrong. William wished he could read her mind, though he did have a few guesses. For one, the kids.

William knew they were resourceful and clever, but he honestly had no idea what Angelina was going to do to them now that they were out of the picture- especially if she thought they were dead.

It sent a shiver down his spine just thinking about it...

“So... your highnesses... what can you tell us about the attack?” The doctor reentered and asked.

“Oh god... where to start?” he chuckled nervously.

“If you aren’t ready, it’s totally fine,” Helloise sat on the edge of his bed. “We just... well... the people are curious. You are supposed to be dead after all.”

“Of course,” William said, before taking in a deep breath and beginning.

.o0o.

It had been a tense week. William had been mad at himself when he had sprained his arm. He was a knight, dammit, he was supposed to be trained to be better than that. Now it meant he had to postpone any of his own mini training lessons he was giving Wakko and Yakko until later, which he knew Yakko would be suspicious of. He always had a habit of picking up on their anxiety and carrying it with him like it was his responsibility too, which was upsetting for multiple reasons.

Some of Angelina’s lessons were extremely difficult to try and undo.

At least Wakko was trying to be optimistic about things. After he had broken him out of the tower, Wakko was spending a lot more time with them as a family, suddenly talking to them a lot more than he used to, which William took as a good sign, seeing as he desperately wanted something to look on the bright side about.

Dot was happy too, of course, as she was just glad to have Wakko back too. She could hardly tell everyone else was anxious, she was only four after all.

When the first window broke, William had been up in a flash, and despite his injury, he grabbed his sword anyway.

“William? What’s the matter?” Lena had asked.

“Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll handle this,” he kissed her head, leaving their bedroom.

He walked through the halls, surprised at just how silent everything was. Still, he kept his guard up, not allowing himself to relax for even a second.

“...this castle is huge! Even with the map she gave us,” a disgruntled, not-too-far off voice said. William ducked behind a curtain for cover.

“It’s a quick mission though: grab the king, grab the queen, and grab the kid if there’s time to spare,” A lower voice shrugged, and William felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. Immediately, he burst out and attacked one of the men, and they quickly began a sword fight.

Unfortunately, William found himself evenly matched by his opponent and realized he was surrounded by allies, some that were even taller than him.

He was kinda screwed.

Still, he fought and parried and swung and blocked with a valiant effort, though the pain in his arm burned more and more and it was evident he was becoming weaker. His opponent saw this, and got behind, and he brought down the handle of his sword onto his arm, and William dropped his sword and fell onto the ground, growling in pain.

“Remember, queenie said no blood on her carpets or tapestries,” The tallest reminded his attacker, who was now pointing his sword at his face. “Tie him up. With the strongest removed, we can work on getting that queen and the middle boy,” He ordered, before taking a few and leaving.

Wakko.

William growled, and swiped his feet out from under him, causing his attacker to fall to the ground. William then began fighting with his bare fists against the men who tried jumping on and fighting him next.

However, the numbers were too large, and before William knew it, his wrists were tied and he was captured.

“Alright, move it, princey,” one of the men kicked him. William gnashed his teeth, but they planned for that, as two of the men held him down, and a third quickly put a muzzle around him.

“There, now that should get you to behave,” He grinned, pulling William up, and the three men forced him out of the castle, and into the back of a carriage, where he was locked in and left.

He tried kicking the door open, but it must’ve been solid wood because he got nowhere, and all he ended up doing was exhausting himself.

William was alone for quite an amount of time, and he tried everything he could to break free of his restraints but nothing was working. He cursed his stubbornness that caused him to sprain his arm- if it hadn’t been for that he was confident he would’ve been able to take down the six men. He was a knight for god’s sake- he was supposed to be able to protect his family.

He was supposed to be able to protect his family.

After a long moment of silence and stillness, the door opened and Lena was thrown in next to him, and William caught a glimpse of the outside and noticed it was snowing lightly.

He didn’t dwell on that, his eyes falling onto Lena, who looked horrible. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked at him, slowly and painfully crawling her way over and lying against his chest. William did his best to hug her with his hands tied.

Neither of them could say a word, but both knew exactly what the other was feeling, and they did their best to embrace and comfort each other.

Then, the carriage began to move.

They didn’t capture Wakko.

Despite everything, William sighed a breath of relief.

Silently, the couple rode for hours, not knowing where they were being taken or why or who was behind any of this, though they had a few guesses.

William was just glad he still had her... even if it wouldn’t be for much longer.

He loved her with his entire being, nothing would ever change that, not an evil queen, and not even death.

However, his mind quickly went to his kids.

Wakko was alive- at least, he hoped. The attackers said they couldn’t get blood anywhere, hopefully, that meant they just ran out of time to find him and he was okay.

But if they were killed, William had no idea what Angelina would do to them. They would have no protection from her now. They could be hurt, or worse...

William hugged Lena a little tighter.

After an hour or two of riding, the temperature inside the carriage got notably colder, the snow outside picking up.

William prayed for a miracle.

They continued riding on, William even drifting to sleep at one point, when they were suddenly jerked awake. there were shouts from out of where they were, and William and Lena sat up best they could, though Lena was in a lot more pain. Suddenly, the carriage lost control, and started to skid and slide, though William and Lena had no idea what the cause was- but it didn’t matter because not before long, it crashed into a tree and everyone was thrown into the air, and landed with a crash and crack.

William winced at the sound, closing his eyes but when he opened, he saw it-

The doors were busted open.

Quickly, William scooted out, gesturing for Lena to follow, but she was closing her eyes and cringing in pain, and William realized she had injured her leg in the fall. Knowing they didn’t have much time to run, he carefully got her out, having her arms go around him with the tie, and having her hold herself up best she could with her remaining upper body strength as they ran into the woods, as far away as they could manage, also while looking for something they could use to untie their hands- and also a hiding place for when the attackers began to search.

Luckily, William was well trained in tracking so he did his best to make sure his footprints in the snow made zero sense and were misleading at best, praying they wouldn’t be able to follow, but he didn’t know who or what they were, so it was hard to be certain.

Eventually, William and Lena made it to a cave and they hid in there for a while, With William finding a particularly sharp rock he used to untie his hands, remove his muzzle, then untie Lena, and remove her muzzle.

“William,” she said with teary eyes.

“Lena,’ he replied, becoming overwhelmed with the desire to hug her, but noting her injured state, he instead just pressed his forehead against hers, and she did the same, placing her soft hand against his face as she cried softly.

“We can’t stay here for long- a bear probably lives here,” she said.

“Just for a moment, we need to rest- figure out where we are, and what our next move is,” He said.

“We’re so far from home... how are we going to get out of this?” She asked.

“I... I don’t know, Lena,” He admitted. “But we will, I promise.”

They stayed hidden for quite some time, having only one close call when one of the tracker’s voices was close enough for them to hear, but William was ready with the sharp rock in case he got too close, but he never did, so they were alright.

Well- alright, considering everything that just happened.

Eventually, the sun started to rise in the woods, and it slowly dawned on William that the coast was clear, and they were free to go.

But... free to go where? They had no idea where they were- were they even in Warnerstock? They could be in foreign lands for all they know- a place where they didn’t even speak the language and they could be killed for sneaking in and-

Wait. Lena was the Princess, and knew all the languages of the neighboring kingdoms, and would likely be given aid. William was panicking over nothing.

However... Lena was looking rather weak. She lost a lot of blood, and her injuries were only pilling up.

“Where do we go?” Lena asked as he was looking at her.

“Well... I don’t think we can go home... as something tells me your mother was behind this...” He stroked his chin.

“You’re telling me,” she huffed, before wincing in pain.

William snapped. “I know a place where they can’t refuse us,” he grinned.

Lena blinked. “William... Acme falls is in the middle of nowhere and perhaps one of the first places they’d go looking for us if we were missing,” she frowned.

“Well- not unless your mother wants us to be dead. Then she wouldn’t have to or want to look anywhere,” he said. “It’d be just like it was when we had just gotten married.”

“When we just married...” Lena trailed off into the memory, a look of sad nostalgia written on her face.

“Look... I’m going to go and try to figure out where we are, so we can head to Acme. Will you be okay if you stay here?” he asked.

“I don’t think I have a choice,” she tried to joke, but William knew she hated it. He kissed her forehead.

“I love you,” He said. “I won’t be long.”

“I love you too, Wiliam,” she replied, and William ran out of the cave.

It took about an hour, but eventually, William discovered that yes, they were still in Warnerstock, and found the direction they were to go to if they wanted to go to Acme Falls. It would be quite the trek, especially if this snow continued to fall, but he had determination on his side.

He was not going to die here, nor was he going to let Lena. He would carry her in his arms if he had to, simple as that.

.o0o.

“So... yeah. We hiked for hours to reach here, the strains and pulled muscles and frostbite are from trekking through the snow, and that’s how we got here,” William finished his tale.

“Oh William... that’s terrible,” Helloise looked at him sadly.

“That does explain a lot... you two should really be getting rest now, yah?” Scratchnsniff remarked, reading over their charts one more time.

“Rest, yeah...” he nodded slowly, though sleep was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to go back to the palace asap, and kill Angelina, and get his kids back. He was confident Lena felt the same.

Though... they wouldn’t be able to do much good in this state... especially without a plan.

“We’ll leave the two of you alone... you’ve been through a lot,” Helloise said.

“Thanks,” he gave a weak smile, which she returned.

His eyes then went to his wife, who still wasn’t looking at him, staring intently at the ground and wall.

“Lena, my love, what’s the matter?” He asked. Lena snorted.

“That’s your first question?” She snarked.

Okay, that was on him. That was a pretty dumb question.

“What are you thinking about?” he tried again. Lena crossed her arms.

“It isn’t fair...” she said. William sighed.

“I know it’s not fair that-”

“I’m not talking about my mother o-or the attack- I-i’m talking about you,” she snapped. William paused.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Lena sighed, wincing at the pain.

“Damned broken ribs...” she muttered.

“I meant... It’s not fair. Time after time after time I end up hurt or crying or abused- it isn’t fair. You’re always so strong William, it pains me. When is it my turn to be strong for you?” she said, wiping away tears and trying her best not to cry.

“Lena...” William reached out to her as much as he could, his arm nearly touching her pillow. Lena continued to look away.

“I’m serious. No matter what happens, you’re always so strong and so brave and comforting. I just- I feel so inadequate,” she whispered.

“Lena, you aren’t inadequate,” He said softly. “You’re just...”

“Damaged?” she said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t pretend it isn’t true- I know what my mother has done.”

“Lena, I don’t care. I love you,” He said.

“And I love you- but... I just... you’ve always been so strong for me William. I want to return the favor, just once...” She looked at him.

“Lena, we’ve both lost so much... this shouldn’t be something we measure or keep track of,” He said, and Lena placed her head where his hand is on her pillow.

“I miss them, William,” she whispered.

“I miss them too, my love,” he whispered back. Lena kissed his hand.

“We’ll get them back, Lena. I promise,” he said. Lena nodded, kissing his hand again and closing her eyes.

“I promise too. No matter what it takes, we are going to get our babies back.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

#my fics #angelina 1 lives au #queen angelina ii #william warner #angelina warner #hello nurse #dr scratchnsniff #tw blood #tw kidnapping #tw muzzles #angst #feels #long post

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anxiousstark · 5 years ago

Text

S1 01 | The Tell

MASTERLIST

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 2159

Warnings: Injuries, blood, swearing (always).

This chapter will be in 3rd point of view as it is the first one and introduction.

↪ Please respect my work. Don’t copy, translate or claim them as yours. Not on this website or another. All Rights Are Reserved. Otherwise, legal actions will be taken.

"What?" Scott stared at his mother. His eyes were full of pain, anger, and confusion. "I don't understand anything. Are you crazy!?" The tone of his voice was gathering strength. Stiles flinched knowing that Ms. McCall had a remarkably bad temper. He couldn't believe that his friend had spoken to his mom like that. "Mom, do you understand?" His hands grasped his dark hair. "This is crazy."

Melissa McCall rubbed her forehead. "Scott, I can't stay home and argue with you right now. I have to go to work." She grabbed her coat and car keys. "We will talk tonight." She looked at Stiles. "Alone."

Stiles placed a hand on his chest as he felt wounded by Melissa's words when he saw her exit the McCall house. "Did you hear that?" He pouted. "She has known me since I was in diapers." He instantly lost his pout and threw himself on the couch, sighing. "You didn't tell me you had a sister! I can't believe you ARE my friend."

"She is not my sister." Scott sat down next to Stiles, his anger bubbling up even more than before.

"Even if you don't like it, she is your sister." He looked at his friend. "Oh my god, imagine her being just like you. It is already hard having to hear you complain. What about another McCall??" The hazel-eyed boy took gum out of his pocket, placing it inside of his mouth and chewing loudly. "So when are we going to meet her?"

"She isn't my sister, okay?" Scott got up from the couch, trying to calm himself while his fists were tightly clenched. "We just have the same stupid father who ran away and who didn't take care of any of us. We just have the same sperm donor."

The other boy chuckled. "Which makes you two siblings. You are her half-brother and she is your half-sister." He made a bubble with the gum, his eyes concentrating on it to the point where they ended up being crossed. "Who do you think is the evil one of you?" He referred to all the films he had watched where there was always an evil sibling.

"I can stay with you!" The girl answered while she tried to hide how her voice was cracking. She was terrified of what she didn't know. She was scared of the unknown. Beacon Hills was unknown to her.

The woman that was driving sighed. Her dark hair was now enhanced by grey hair. "You know you can't. Your father still has your custody." The woman didn't let the teenager answer, knowing that she would get ironic and ask why her father wasn't doing his job as a father. He never did anyway.

"So the best option out there is for me to live with strangers who are my father's other family? Tell me, Miriam. Did he leave them to be with us? Or did he leave us to be with them? Oh wait, was he changing lives every week?"

The woman sighed, parking the car on one of the streets of Beacon Hills. "Y/N, please. I was also a stranger when you came to live with me." She smiled softly. The teenager deserved better. Her mother didn't act like one and left Y/N on Miriam's doorstep when she was 8 years old. Later than everyone thought. Nobody saw Y/N's mother capable of taking care of a child for eight years. But at the same time, she didn't take care of Y/N. The young girl took care of her mother.

"I just don't understand what's the purpose of all this."

"It's for you to be with your family." Her rust-colored eyes examined the teenager. She was almost a woman, a beautiful one that had taken care of herself since day one. "Look." She grabbed her cold hands. "Your mom did terrible stuff. I did too. How did you think we met?"

"But you changed. People change." She peered out of the window for a couple of seconds. "You can't compare what you did with what Alice did." She muttered. Alice was her mom, but she didn't deserve that title. "You never abandoned me. We don't share the same blood, but you took care of me." She tried to argue back.

"But taking care of you isn't my decision anymore. You are still a minor and your father is the one deciding over you." She rubbed their hands together, trying to warm Y/N's hands. "When you are old enough, you will be able to live wherever you want. You can even contact me and I will come for you if you want me to."

Y/N got out of the car, and she slowly moved to the back, taking her suitcase out of it. Maybe if she was slow, Miriam would change her mind and let her go with her. But it didn't seem like that would happen when she found herself waving at the car. It was disappearing down the road, leaving her in a strange town with only directions to Melissa Mccall's house.

On her way to her 'new' house, she saw a video club and her love for films didn't let her walk away from it without checking it out. A bell sounded when she opened the door, her hand still clutching her suitcase. She started looking around when she saw and heard the voice of a boy. "Can somebody help me find The Notebook?" He started looking around. "Hello? Is anybody working here? You gotta be kidding me."

Y/N thought that was rare. There was a phone ringing, and the place was quite dim.

The boy went closer to her. "Uhm, excuse me." She looked at him again, forgetting the films she was checking out. "Do you maybe know where in this whole place can I find The Notebook?"

"Are you asking me because I'm a girl?" She chuckled, making the boy smile a little. "Because I'm more into action movies and I'm new here so I can't help you." She glanced around, finally deciding that her suitcase was safe and she didn't have to grip it so hard. "It is strange that there is no one here though." Her eyes stopped behind the boy, seeing something on the ground.

Jackson turned around and then looked back at her. Both of them stared at each other quietly, without exchanging words. They slowly walked to whatever that was.

When they got closer, Y/N could tell that what she had noticed were shoes. When they cornered one of the shelves, there was a dead body. A man was laying on the floor, his eyes wide open and a terrified expression decorating his face. His neck looked like it had been sliced, and blood was coming out of it.

"Oh my god." The boy whispered, pushing a hand out so Y/N wouldn't walk closer to the dead man. But of course, she wasn't going to do that. No fucking way.

Jackson walked backwards. Y/N who was behind him was pushed against some stairs, making them fall. The stairs hit a lamp that seemed to be in the process of being repaired, making the light of the shop go out.

"Are you okay?" Jackson asked the girl.

"I'm not sure if I can be okay after seeing a dead body." She replied, not being able to take her eyes out of the body. "Are you?"

"I don't think I can be okay after seeing a dead body." He replied similarly.

Y/N wanted to chuckle, but she was sure that it wasn't the best moment to do so. They heard a vicious noise. Turning around, at the end of the corridor there were two shiny red eyes. It seemed like those eyes were examining both of them.

Jackson was petrified, gawking at whatever that monstrosity was. Y/N grasped his arm, pushing him behind a shelf, covering his mouth with her hand. "Don't scream, please." She whispered. But she was as scared as him. Maybe even more.

Without looking back, Y/N knew that thing was running around. She concluded that it was something quite big when the shelves fell in a domino motion, trapping her and Jackson under the shelf that they used to hide. The boy was luckier because only his legs were trapped, making it a little bit easier for him to escape when he felt strong enough, while Y/N's entire half body was trapped, making her hiss in pain.

Both of them heard the beast coming closer to them, breathing hard. She felt it scratch her neck, and she couldn't contain a wail of pain. It seemed like the boy had also been scratched when she heard him breathe even harder. Are there bears in Beacon Hills?

The next thing they heard was a window crash and a couple of minutes later, sirens.

Y/N was sitting in the back of an ambulance while Jackson was next to her, an arm around his girlfriend, Lydia Martin. She had learnt their names, but she wished that it would have been in another situation.

"Why the hell can't I just go home? I'm fine." Jackson asked desperately. She thought that he should have more respect towards the man, but at the same time, she was also desperate to leave that place.

"I hear ya, but the EMT says you hit your head pretty hard. They just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion." The sheriff replied. Y/N took her time to look at Lydia. She looked shocked, and Y/N was confused because Lydia wasn't inside the store. Did she see something?

"What part of 'I'm fine' are you having a problem grasping? Okay, I wanna go home." He got closer to the sheriff while the man answered more calmly.

Jackson began to raise his voice, and Y/N was going to tell him to shut the fuck up when she was interrupted. "Oh, whoa, is that a dead body?" She looked at the boy who had yelled but instantly, got distracted by a doctor who asked to look at her neck and take care of her wound. That was another thing she didn't understand.

Why didn't Jackson have a wound like her? She was sure that he had been scratched too.

"Starting to get it?"

A voice made Stiles jump around, seeing Derek and Scott behind him. "What the fuck! Oh gosh, I think I just peed my pants." He replied while placing his hand on his chest.

"Uh, I get that he's killing people, but I don't get why. I mean, this isn't standard practice, right? We don't go out in the middle of the night murdering everyone, do we?" Scott answered Derek while ignoring his friend. His eyes scanning everywhere, analyzing everything, and trying to understand the situation.

"No. We're predators. We don't have to be killers."

"Then why is he a killer?"

"That's what we're gonna find out." Derek hit Scott's arm, making him rub it. His pupils grew, looking over at one of the girls sitting in the back of the ambulance. "I will let you take care of her first."

Scott observed how Derek walked away and was confused by his last words. Stiles hit him in the same place where Derek had punched him before. Stiles was pointing at the girl's suitcase.

"It says McCall, on the suitcase." His friend let him know and that was when he noticed that one of the girls in the back of the ambulance he had never seen before. "I think that is your-sister-not-sister."

Scott ignored him and walked towards her, but he was stopped by Stiles’ father.

"Guys, you know you can't be here." He said, mostly looking at his son.

"Why is she here?" Scott asked while pointing at the girl.

The Sheriff sighed, deciding to give them a little information, hoping that they would feel satisfied and leave the crime scene. "She was inside. A minor concussion and a deep wound on the back of her neck."

"What type of wound?" Stiles asked. His father felt stupid for believing that his son would be satisfied with just a little information. "An animal wound?" Scott hit his ribs.

"Yes. We believe so." He looked at the girl. "She asked us if there were bears in Beacon Hills."

"Bears?" Both boys looked at each other.

"Seemed like a big beast. Jackson had said that he thought he saw claws, but she affirmed that she felt the claws on her neck." He coughed. "Now, go home." He referred to Scott. "And you, wait inside the car."

"Actually." Stiles decided to talk. "That is Scott's sister." The hazel-eyed boy decided to modify what he had said when he felt Scott's gaze on him. "Well, half-sister. You know. Same dad. Same sperm donor."

The sheriff stared at his son, not surprised by his attitude. Melissa had told him about the new McCall, so he let both boys get close to her.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten -

People in black means it doesn’t let me tag them.

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

Text

a series of promising events (3/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 6.4k

a/n: part 3! thank you so much for all the love and support on the first 2 parts! hope you guys enjoy this part, because these are 2 of my favorite criminal minds episode. some themes, cases, dialogue taken directly from the show (S04 EP03, & S07 EP24).

also, if you’ve interacted with previous parts, first of all, thank you thank you. second, i have added you to the tag list. if you want to be removed, just let me know! :)

alright friends, let’s go!

here are the links to part 1 & part 2

****

June 2011

You were stupid. It always amazed you how you made it this far in your life with the amount of stupid situations you put yourself in. You kept pressure on the six inch gash running up your calf, lucky enough to tie off some of the wound by tearing off part of your pant leg. But you were still stuck in this goddamn compound, ready for the place to blow any second.

It was supposed to be a simple undercover interview and investigation. You and Spencer were among victims in an underground cult accused of child abuse. You’d been there all of two hours before the local SWAT team attempted to raid the compound, and an additional two before they found out the FBI was there.

Reid played dumb at first, trying to deny the accusations the best he could. But when they held two guns to his head, you were quick to offer up a confession.

“Get up.”

Cyrus led you to the storage room and kicked the shit out of you. You consider yourself a strong woman, you’d endured a lot of emotional trauma in your childhood, and in your time with the BAU, some scars on your body. But nothing to the extent of a narcissistic self proclaimed prophet who felt the power slipping through his fingers.

You’d counted the kicks to your abdomen; there were three. Two punches to the face, and one shove to the concrete wall resulting in a broken mirror. It was safe to say you’d earned your stripes today.

After your brief meeting with the congregation, and quickly assuring Spencer you were okay, you were locked back up in your room. Luckily, you were still mic'd up.

Your hands were bound behind your back, so you kicked up the shade with the heel of your boot.

“If you can hear me, I know you're coming. I can try to get the women and children to the tunnel, but I need to know when you’re coming.”

You repeated this like a mantra for fifteen minutes, praying that they could still hear you. “I need to know when you’re coming.”

With one more flick of the shade, the red laser from a sniper shown on your bedroom wall. “Okay, okay I see you. I need to know what time.” The light blinks three times, and you can feel your heartbeat rising. “Three a.m.?” Up and down, like nodding their head. “Understood. Reid is somewhere on the first floor with Cyrus, please find him.”

Before closing your eyes from the excruciating pain your ribs were in from talking, the laser moved again. It took you a few seconds to decipher what they were trying to tell you, but after the third trace, you could barely let out a laugh. It was a check mark.

“Thanks Hotch. A point for you.” You heard the sound of scurried footsteps running up the stairs, and you quickly put your foot down on the bed. “Someone's coming.”

It was Jane, coming in to check on your injuries again. She helped you sit up, guiding the glass of water she brought in to your mouth.

“Cyrus is planning a mass suicide.” Her eyes widened as she pulled the glass away from you. “You made that 911 call.”

“This is all my fault. None of this would be happening if I hadn't made that call.”

“You were trying to protect your daughter.”

She shook her head. “There were other girls before Jessie. He married them. And then when she came running to me for my consent, all I wanted was to take her and run. But I knew she wouldn’t leave without him.”

“This isn’t your fault.” You held one of her hands, needing her to understand this more than anything. “The FBI is coming at three a.m. I need you to gather Jessica, the kids, the other women, and get them into the basement just before three a.m.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

You sighed. Because I’ve been in your position before, you thought. You’ve been the scared follower in the corner of the room, praying for someone to save you while doing nothing. Until you finally took action, and attempted to save yourself and the people you cared about.

“Because I have faith that you are a strong enough woman to do the right thing for Jessica.” She stood up, not being able to look at you before she exited the room.

Rationally, you knew there was a low chance you were getting out of here unscathed from the blast. There was no way you’d leave until everyone was out of the building, and you had found Spencer. But having your hands tied up locked in a secret room was not the easiest place to escape.

You tried not to think of the fatal end of the day. You tried not to think of the fact that you were thirty years old, three months from turning thirty one, and had yet to travel on a plane for fun. You tried not to focus on all of your shortcomings, because there were many. Instead, you focused on the fact that your team was half a mile up the hill, waiting to safely bring you out.

What felt like only ten minutes later, Jane had come back to the room, quickly motioning for you to stand up.

“You were right. They’re setting the place to blow up. I told Jessie Cyrus wanted her to gather the women and children in the basement.” She untied your hands, and you rolled your wrists a few times to get the mobility back.

“Where is the man I came in with?”

“He’s in the chapel with Cyrus. It’s two forty-five though, we gotta hurry.” She led you out of the room and down to the basement. There was an immense pounding in your head with every step you took, but you tried to push it away as you ushered the women down.

You could hear the tac team approaching, and made sure you were the first one in the basement to make sure it was safe. When you saw Derek’s face, you let out the breath you’d been holding.

“Y/n, you okay?” He grabbed a hold of your elbow, helping you down the steps.

“They’ve wired explosives.”

“Where’s Reid?”

“He’s in the chapel with Cyrus.” You placed a hand over your forehead, the pounding settling in over your right eye.

Derek rested a hand on your back, trying to lead you out of the compound. “We’ve gotta get you out of here.”

“No, not without Reid!”

A scream directed your’s and Derek’s attention to Jane, trying to stop Jessica from leaving the basement. “No!”

“Ma’am, we’ll get her for you.” I held onto her shoulders, making sure she focused on me.

“I’ll get her for you Jane. Derek, take her out.”

“L/n,” He warned, not ready to have two agents back in the line of fire.

“Take her out of this building so I can get her daughter and Reid!” You exclaimed, pushing Jane to follow Derek out. He relented, knowing he couldn’t talk you out of this.

The SWAT team led you through the basement this time, following the sound of Jessica’s footsteps. The team took out two of Cyrus’s goonies, as you yelled for them to take a left to the chapel. You were closing in, and you could hear their voices.

Cyrus had Spencer pinned against the wall, rifle to his chest, as Jessie and her daughter walked into the chapel. She got Cyrus’s attention as he kneed Reid in the gut twice with the butt of the rifle.

But before he could reach his family, your team took him and his second hand out. You raced over to the girls, trying to pull them away from the site of Cyrus’s dead body. But Jessica stayed in place, eyes trained on it.

“We gotta go, sweetheart. Cmon.”

Her eyes shifted to yours for a second before looking at her feet, the yellow detonator lying next to her shoes. She grabbed it before you had a chance to reach forward, her shaky hands trying to hold on.

“Get out of here!” You yelled out to the team, turning to make sure Spencer followed your order too. Jessie looked down at the button again as you reached for her two year old daughter, making sure she wouldn’t get hurt. “Please, don’t do this. You don’t need to follow him anymore.”

A single tear fell down her cheek, and you knew this was only going to end one way. You backed up towards the exit as she looked at you one more time.

“He’s my husband.”

After those words, you picked up the toddler and ran out of the chapel, making it halfway down the walkway before it exploded. It threw you to the ground, but you made sure it was you who collided with the pavement, grasping onto her head to make sure she didn’t crack it.

The moments after were quiet, surprisingly enough. Everyone is always stunned to silence for a few seconds after witnessing such an event. But you barely had time to sit up and let out a proper cough before you heard Hotch and Prentiss calling your name.

“I’m okay. I have the baby, we’re okay.” They knelt down next to you as you felt the cut on your forehead open up again.

“Y/n,”

“Take the baby!” I handed her over to Hotch, not wanting to look at anyone besides Spencer.

“L/n,”

“Where is Reid? Did he make it out?” You tried to look around Emily to find him, but she held your shoulders in place.

“He’s fine Y/n. He’s getting checked out by a paramedic. C’mon, you need to go to the hospital.”

“No, I need-”

“You need to listen to me.” She offered you her hand, and as the adrenaline started to wear off and the pulsing in your leg came back, you took it. “Okay.”

Emily rode with you to the hospital just in case anything happened. But you were quick to shoo her out of your exam room once you got to the hospital. You needed a minute to yourself, and you were exhausted.

The doctor’s had cleared you to travel back to Virginia on the jet tonight, which was now early morning, but wanted you to get a few more hours of rest before heading out. They stitched up the cut on your leg, and diagnosed you with a minor concussion and a few bruised ribs. Lucky, to say the least.

Even though they gave you some pain meds to help you sleep, you were barely unconscious when you heard one of the hospital chairs scratch against the tile floor. Your eyes shot open, and you tried to sit up, forgetting about your bruised ribs.

“Hey, take it easy,” You looked over to find Hotch sitting in one of the chairs, the cause of the scratching. “Are you alright?”

“Where’s Spencer?” You needed to find him and apologize for leaving him alone at the compound. “He’s in the waiting room, he’s a little bruised but he’s okay.”

You were successful in sitting up the second time, trying to get the blankets off your body. “I need to talk to him.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You have a concussion, and you're highly medicated, so sit down.”

Hotch placed a hand on your arm in an attempt to get you to lie back down, but you fought against it, pushing him and the sheets away.

He continued talking to you, trying to get you in a comfortable position and not cause any more pain to your pretty damaged body. But as he draped the sheet back over you, you began to feel suffocated by the room.

“Hotch, I need to tell him I’m sorry,” The sheets were scratching your legs, and the increased beeping on your heart monitor increased the anxiety in your already restricted chest. Wait, how was the baby? Did you get her to safety? “The baby, Jessie’s baby,” You closed your eyes, not able to finish your sentence as the pounding returned over your left eye.

“Y/n,”

“I can’t breathe Hotch. My lungs,” Your eyes started to water, your mind trying to think of a physical explanation to what was really going on. You were having a panic attack. “Fuck, I can’t-” You were hyperventilating now, your hands resting on your chest, trying to calm your breathing down.

“Look at me,” Hotch asked. But you closed your eyes to focus on something else, anything else, and you refused to open them back up. “I can’t.”

All you could see was Spencer’s face as Cyrus took you away from him. His wide eyes, full of terror for you and for him. You saw the smile on Cyrus’s face as he threw you to the floor. You saw Jessica take her daughter’s hand, ready to kill themselves just to fulfill Cyrus’s prophecy. And you saw the look in Jane’s face as they told her it was Jessica who didn’t survive. After you told her you would get her daughter out.

“I can’t,” You felt the tears escape your eyes before you registered what was happening, your shoulders starting to shake in unison.

But you felt two arms snake around your body, pulling you into a tight embrace. You tensed for a moment, acknowledging the blue and white dress shirt under your fingers as Hotch’s. Instead of saying anything, you tucked your chin on top of his shoulder, trying to find some purchase to rest your head. You focused on his breathing as he chose to stay silent, letting you settle the thoughts in your head.

And after a couple minutes, it worked. You know that the baby was taken to an ambulance to get checked out before you. You saw Spencer walk out of the chapel thirty seconds before you. And you could feel yourself breathing in this hospital bed, having successfully matched your breathing to Hotch’s.

Hotch.

At the acknowledgement of his arms secured around your middle, your heart picked up a little.

In the six years you’d spent with him as your unit chief, you’d never embraced him like this before. At Haley’s funeral you gave him a quick, respectful hug. In close calls involving the team, you’d give each other a comforting pat on the shoulder. But nothing to this extent. There wasn’t an inch of space between the two of you. You could smell his cologne without even trying, and you could feel the muscles in his shoulders soften underneath his dress shirt. You were so close to him.

Too close.

“Hotch,” You muttered out, your voice a little hoarse from the crying. His grip loosened on your waist, like he forgot what was happening and where you were.

“Don’t call me Hotch while you’re lying in a hospital bed. It’s Aaron.”

You could feel a slight tug at the corner of your lips as you pulled away from him. You’d never called him by his first name, at least never to his face. It felt intimate in a way you’d never been with him before. The name was a key to his past, opening the gate to his life outside of the BAU. Into his life as Aaron Hotchner, father, brother, soccer coach, Jack’s best friend. A life you loved to catch snippets of.

“Are you okay?” He asked again, once you were settled back against your pillows. He’d only asked you a million times since you woke up. “Why do you need to apologize to Reid?”

You let out a sigh. “Because I left him alone in that compound. I split us up, I put fifty innocent lives in danger and a child died because of it.”

“If you didn’t fess up to Cyrus, you would both be dead right now. Reid got into his good graces and helped save those fifty innocent people. As for Jessica,” He sighed. “She made up her mind. And there was nothing you could’ve said that would’ve changed it.”

You nodded before closing your eyes, trying to let the truth seep into your bones.

“You’re so much stronger than you think, y/n. You took a beating like that and still managed to assure us that you could take it. I was ready to move in once I heard him throw you to the ground.” He was picking at his fingernails and you looked over at him. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for all the shit you accomplish.”

“Thank you, Aaron.” He’d become deaf to the tenderness ever present in his voice, but he wouldn’t forget the sound of his name rolling off your tongue for as long as he lived. He didn’t know how he survived six years without hearing you say it. But it wasn’t the time or place to delve into how it made him feel. So, he settled for a smile. One that made his dimples shine.

“Y/n?” You looked over to the door, your gauky doctor standing in the doorway. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” You motioned for him to come into the room, and he slowly made his way over to your side. You made space for him on the bed, but he didn’t move to sit next to you. “Spence, it’s okay. Take a seat.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was so quiet, and you knew he felt as much guilt for letting you go as you did for leaving him. “I shouldn’t have let you go. I should’ve stopped him.”

You heard Hotch stand up from his seat, but you were only focused on Spencer. You pulled his hands down, begging him to sit down next to you. He got the hint, trying to hide the miniscule amount of tears forming in his eyes.

But you placed your arms around him instead, not wanting him to apologize over and over until you accepted. Because this wasn’t his fault. “I’m sorry for leaving you. But I didn’t want you to get hurt. This wasn’t your fault. I need you to know this wasn’t your fault.” You felt him nod his head against your shoulder, and let out a breath that sounded too similar to a laugh. It only got one out of Spencer in return.

You met Hotch’s eye over Spencer’s shoulder, giving you a nod before letting the two of you have your moment.

You pulled away, both your faces dry despite the wavering voices. One small victory.

“Next time, let me take the beating.” You smiled as you tried to stand up out of the bed, having a clear head making all the difference this time around.

“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time. Now c'mon,” You pointed to your go bag and walked toward the bathroom. “Hand me that so we can get the hell out of this place.”

****

May 2012

The last thirty-six hours had been a whirlwind. You were exhausted, and the last thing you wanted to be doing was putting makeup and high heels on to go to a party. Your bed was calling you, ready for you to take refuge under the fluffy covers. But one of your best friends was getting married, and nothing was going to stop you from being there for JJ.

When she walked down the aisle in her mother’s wedding gown, she looked ethereal. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think weddings were made with the image of Jennifer Jareau looking like an angel in mind. With Spencer’s help, Henry gave his parents their wedding bands, a smile on his face as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. And no matter how hard you and Garcia tried, you couldn’t keep the tears from flowing down your face. Weddings, like most everything, got you to cry.

Now an hour later, you were taking a rest at the round table Rossi had set up for the small occasion. His backyard was transformed with white canopies and flower petals, the small dance floor in full swing. You sat down once you reached your chair, letting out a sigh of relief. Dancing with Jack Hotchner had worn out your heel clad feet, making you regret the decision not to wear flats.

Despite the events of the last few days, everyone seemed to be happy and enjoying a night free of anxiety. It was one of the few times you’d seen Erin Strauss crack a smile around your BAU team members, and you hoped it would last a little longer once you were back in the office. It was nice to see Anderson and Kevin outside of the bullpen, getting to talk about something other than serial killers and last known whereabouts. It felt like a normal family, celebrating two people that they all loved.

Weddings always made you believe in the bigger picture. Despite all the evil in the world, the amount of love two people shared with one another would always conquer it all. And weddings like these, between two people who put their lives on the line everyday, made you believe that you could find this source of happiness, this lifetime commitment despite everything you’ve gone through. It had to give you hope.

But as you rested your sweater over your shoulders and looked out at the couples sharing a dance, you couldn’t help but notice the empty feeling in your heart.

“Hey party pooper, you tired already?” Spencer took the seat to your left, a toothy grin resting on his face. He looked incredibly handsome tonight in his black suit and bowtie, a break from his sweaters and khakis. He had blushed red as a tomato when you and Penelope complemented his look, trying to boost his confidence. And maybe embarrass him a bit. “You’re the youngest one here minus the toddlers and you’re the first one to tap out. I had my money on Rossi.”

You laughed while skimming your feet against the tips of the grass. “I’m resting up for my turn with Derek. He told me I’m not leaving this place until he sees me, and I quote, ‘cut up a rug’ with him.”

Morgan and Garcia were currently the life of the dance floor, moving in sync with one another as best friends do. Your smile always grew when you witnessed the two of them together.

“You did a good job with your groomsmen duty. Didn’t lose the rings, made sure Henry knew his job. Maybe you’ll be number one on JJ’s babysitting speed dial.”

“And surpass you? That'll be the day that animals speak.” You nodded, a small smile gracing your lips. “Glad you know your place.”

The two of you looked up to see Rossi and Strauss dancing together, and you raised your brows toward Spencer. He informed you what him and Penelope witnessed a few mornings ago, and the three of you were determined to find out what the relationship was between the wise father figure and section chief. But as long as he was happy, you really couldn’t care less.

“Has Emily found you yet?” You asked, afraid to be the first to approach the subject. After her last disappearance, it took Spencer a while to forgive her and JJ. The grieving process was hard for him, it was hard for all of you. He spent weeks at JJ’s house, guilt consuming him for not putting together the link between Lauren Reynolds and Prentiss. He blamed himself just as much as Derek did. And he missed the one person who could see through him, and crush him at poker.

“Yeah, she did.”

“And are you okay?”

“I will be.” He looked over at me, a sad smile on his face. “At least we can call her this time.”

You were happy that Spencer could look back on Emily’s ‘death’ and laugh about it with you. There was a silver lining to every situation, every experience we go through. At least, that’s what you told yourself to help you get through the hard days.

“What about you?” You looked over at him, a wrinkle between your brows.

“Hmm?”

He sighed and nudged his head to the dance floor. “You really expect me to believe you didn’t come over here to sit and sulk while watching Hotch and Beth dance the night away?”

Your eyes found their way to the couple, swaying back and forth with smiles that couldn’t help but be contagious. A smile that only you used to be able to get from Hotch. And that little reminder was all it took for your smile to fall.

Hotch had introduced you all to Beth three months ago at the triathlon. They’d been training together for a few months until Hotch got the nerve to ask her out the week before the big day, with a little push from Dave nonetheless. She was the first woman he’d seen after Haley, a little over two years since her death. You were proud of him for moving on, and you were happy that he’s enjoying his life guilt free.

Beth was a beautiful woman, both inside and out. She was an art curator who ran triathlons and went to cute coffee shops in her free time. Anyone would be crazy not to be enamored by her. She kept Aaron on his toes, pushing him when he needed to go out of his comfort zone, an easy balance between the two of them. She was amazing with Jack, camping out and making forts with the two boys in the apartment. The little boy was more than okay with the new woman in his father's life.

But with the addition of Beth in Hotch’s life, your presence wasn’t as frequent as it used to be. Friday game nights had disappeared along with Saturday dinners, replaced by date night and movies with Jack. The worried phone calls about a cold, or the rush for a babysitter were now directed to Beth. The pictures of Jack playing with legos or running in the park now came from JJ when there was a scheduled playdate with Henry. You had been placed back into your spot as coworker, SSA y/n l/n of the BAU.

“I’m happy for him.” You settled on the vague truth, because you weren’t going to make tonight about you and your bruised feelings. “She’s a wonderful woman and he deserves to be happy.”

“So do you.” Yeah, you thought, I do.

“You know when I was a little girl, I used to dream about my future. It was the only thing that kept me going when I moved from home to home.” You admitted with a shallow laugh. “When you’re little, you have no perception of time, or any obstacles life throws in your way. And I think I wanted to believe more than anything, that life outside of the system was going to be magical. No matter what advantages or disadvantages I faced, I was going to make it magical.

“When I was fifteen, I thought I would be married and have popped out a baby by the time I was thirty. I told myself I would find my husband in college, a nice boy with big ambitions that loved me right. I would have a desk job, maybe be a secretary, something that gave me some interaction with people. We’d buy a house in the suburbs somewhere with window boxes and a big backyard. We’d have three or four kids by the time I was thirty five, and they would fill the house with their giggles and tiny footsteps. My job would be flexible enough so that they wouldn’t have to spend the whole day in daycare. I was going to be the perfect mother.

“I had it all planned out,” Your voice fell off as you looked back at Spencer. “But here I am at thirty one years old. Single, childless, pining over a man I can’t have, while trying not to get blown up by psychotic serial killers everyday.”

You couldn’t help yourself, stealing another look at Hotch. It nearly broke your heart in two to see his dimple from across the lawn.

“And fifteen years later, I’m still putting other people’s happiness before my own.” You stood up, placing your sweater back on your chair. Spencer had scolded you time and time again that you were going to be destroyed if you kept up this caring charade. Hotch had even tried to warn you about your efforts early on, but you were a stubborn girl. Looking back at Spencer, you hated seeing the pity he held for you in his eyes. You never wanted to be this girl. “But I’m happy for him.”

So you put on your most convincing smile, and motioned for him to follow you to the dance floor. He was hesitant, but he knew better than to continue his interrogation after your round about explanation. This wasn’t the place to delve into your mind. And the two of you knew that.

As soon as you stepped onto the dance floor, you were calling out for Derek Morgan to show you his moves. You needed a distraction, and you needed to have some fun. He wrapped his arms around you lightly, implying that you would not be slowly swaying like the boring people surrounding you.

He led you into what felt like a quickstep, bringing you up and down your side of the floor, leading you like a professional. You couldn’t stop the laughs from spilling out of your mouth as he spun you around and twirled you right back into his chest. Skipping around the dance floor with Derek was the last thing you expected to be doing at JJ’s wedding, but you were more than happy with the outcome.

After a few songs with the next Fred Astaire, Emily dragged you over to JJ, attempting a trio sway. Garcia joined you after a moment, giggles being shared across the square of dancing women. These three ladies were the sisters you prayed for as a kid, and you were about to be one man down for the first time in six years. For real, this time.

You leaned to your left and pressed a kiss to Emily’s cheek, and she smiled. “Are you making a move on me?”

Penelope let out a laugh as you shook your head. “I’m just grateful to have had you in my life for this long.” The smirk on her face fell, and you swear there were tears in her eyes.

“Nope! I was promised there would be no crying tonight,” Garcia stopped the moment from turning into a goodbye, and you laughed. “Sorry, you’re right. It was a move.”

JJ shook her head as Emily held your eyes for another second, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to you. You gave her a nod as JJ spun you under her arm.

“Alright, even though you're hitched, you can still come to ladies night with us, right?” Penelope asking the important questions here.

You smiled as JJ nodded. “You couldn’t keep me away if you tried.”

After a few more chords, there was a tap on your shoulder. You looked over your shoulder, finding Hotch’s warm brown eyes already looking at you. Your feet stopped as a shy smile rested across his lips.

“Hey,”

“Hey. Sorry to break up this party, but,” He extended his hand to you. “Would you like to dance?”

You looked down to his hand, one that you held so tight after Haley’s death, and took it in your own. Yours was swallowed in his, but you didn’t mind one bit.

“Of course.” He backed up, leading the two of you away from the laughing girls.

Once you’d found your own space, he wrapped his free hand around your waist, bringing yours to rest on his shoulder. Always the gentleman, his hand made sure it was barely grazing your lower back as your heart ached for him to hold you closer.

“Dave did an amazing job with the place.” Hotch commented, trying to break the tension between you. It had never felt this awkward between the two of you, and it hurt to know how much had changed.

“I think you mean Rossi found a great party planner to transform the place.”

A light chuckle from Hotch, and you felt butterflies in your stomach as his dimples showed up. You wanted to trace a check mark on his shoulder, but stopped when you realized he had someone else that was in first place now. The same person who was dancing with his son across the floor.

“He really likes her.” You commented, nodding towards the pair. Beth twirled Jack under her arm once, twice, three times, before he broke into a fit of giggles.

“He does. He claims she’s the best Uno player alive.”

You forced a smile out, not wanting to give the wrong impression. “High praise coming from the reigning champion.” He laughed and nodded along, knowing Jack did not accept defeat so easily. She must be really special.

Being this close to Aaron felt like a dream, one that you never thought you would get to experience while you were awake. The only other time you got to enjoy his warmth was a year ago, when you’d evaded another explosion. You remembered the feeling of his arms looped around your waist, their grip holding you to his chest. Once you realized what was happening, you never wanted to leave his embrace.

But right now you weren’t close enough. And selfishly, you needed to be closer, you needed to be held like that one more time. You took a step closer to him in between your swaying, your right foot in between his. Without missing a beat, he took another step closer to bridge the gap between you, pulling your joined hands to his opposite shoulder.

“I didn’t know you knew ballroom dancing,” His voice was deeper than you ever heard, due to the miniscule distance between you. If you tilted your head to the left a few centimeters, you’d be leaning against his temple. Just the thought had your heart racing; this man was not yours.

“I don’t. But Derek Morgan is a good teacher.”

You continued to sway back and forth to the music, a ballad playing in the background as you caught Beth dancing with Rossi now. She was a walking reminder that Aaron Hotchner was in a happy, committed relationship. And no matter how close you danced with him, how perfectly his arm curled tighter and tighter around your waist, this was not yours.

All you wanted was to share your life with someone. You wanted someone to look at you the same way Will looked at JJ. You wanted someone to make you laugh so hard that you couldn’t breathe. Someone who cared for you, just as much as you cared for everyone else. You wanted, more than anything in your life, for Aaron to look at you the way you looked at him.

“Are you okay?” He must have felt your grip tighten around his shoulder, and you quickly relented.

Tears had started to form in your eyes, and you gently shook your head to keep them from falling. “Yeah, sorry.”

He pulled back the slightest bit, trying to look into your diverting eyes. You locked them on the canopied walkway, hoping they’d dry before he came into view. It wasn’t his responsibility to ease your worries.

“Y/n,” You bit the inside of your lip, moving to crack your index finger when he slowed the two of you down a little. He knew your tells better than anyone else. “You can tell me anything.”

You didn’t hesitate to meet his eyes, smiling when you saw the concern etched inside them. You knew how much he cared for you. How much he trusted you with his son, and with his own worries when he had no one to turn to. You knew that he would do anything to take away the pain you’re feeling right now. So that’s why you let your smile grow, to assure him that you were going to be okay. That he couldn’t know why you were falling apart.

So you repeated the words you made yourself believe, leaving his gaze only to find Spencer’s a few feet away.

“I’m just really happy for you, Aaron.”

It was an ambidextrous statement, one that made your head spin with the different ways to approach the situation. But before he could respond, Spencer had made his way over to the two of you, perfectly reading the stare you threw his way. You needed an out.

“I think it’s my turn with the dancing queen.”

You let go of Hotch without a second thought, never meeting his gaze again. Spencer took your hand without a fight, and led you to the far corner of the floor, away from everyone’s eyes. You felt your chest tightening as he wrapped his arms around you, knowing the tears you tried so hard to suppress would fall soon.

The two of you started swaying, and you were quick to rest your head on his shoulder in an attempt to hide the first few tears that fell. You focused on the sound of heels meeting the floor, the silverware chiming against the plates, and the occasional laugh that escaped JJ’s mouth. You tried to ground yourself to the present, not to your thoughts.

“The life that you have may not be the one you dreamed of as a kid, but it’s pretty damn special. You don’t need kids or a husband to complete you. Because the y/n l/n right here,” he poked your waist, eliciting a small smile from you, “Is the best version of any day dream.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder so that you could meet his eyes. His smile never failed to reach his eyes, causing more tears to fall as you registered the sincerity in his voice.

“I’m going to be okay, right?” Your voice was small, afraid that you would never get used to this feeling.

“I don’t know,” He said before stepping back, just enough to spin you under his arm, and pull you back just like Derek had, before gently dipping you down. You couldn’t believe the laugh that escaped your lips, the salty tears ending their path down your face for good he hoped. He brought you back up carefully, a beautiful Spencer Reid smile adorning his face. “But I’ll be with you until you are.”

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites @averyhotchner @dreamy-moments @softhxtch @crazymar15 @theinsanespaceship15 @wecouldbreakthedistance @jeor @funnycuteandannoying @andherestograce @thisisntjuliana @captwilson @kennedyblair @lovelysunflowerxoxo @rcompton @iifaequeenii @iwaizumiee @mrsaaronh0tchner @abbeyannsmith-blog @becausehello @rinacriedpower

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #jules writes shit ??

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reyesstrand · 4 years ago

Note

#9 for Tarlos please 🥰

thank you for the prompt! i hope you enjoy!! 💗

feel free to send me a number from this list. also available on ao3!

((tw: minor description of blood/injuries caused by a car accident))

Ever since he was a kid, he knew that it was hard to leave some calls at the scene.

Sometimes they lingered on the trip back to the firehouse, where a silence fell over the whole crew as nothing but dead air passed between their headsets. Other times, they dug in deeper, as if they were physical things with claws and teeth, refusing to be shaken off until something worse occupied their minds. He saw it enough with his dad when he was still a little too young to understand why he had to work such long hours; he saw it when the towers fell, and it was like he had to grow up overnight, practically set aflame at the thought that he could’ve lost his dad, like other kids lost their parents in a single moment.

TK doesn’t let that stop him from giving his all, though, even if that means he becomes too personally wedged into rescues.

It seems like it’s going to be a standard day, when they get the call from dispatch about a motor vehicle accident. The rest of the team seems to think the same thing—given the fact that they seemingly have no qualms about pushing him for the juicy details on his date night last night, only spurred on by the fact that Carlos had picked him up at the station yesterday afternoon and dropped him back off this morning.

“Come on, aren’t we supposed to be professionals here?” TK says, though he can barely get it out without smiling.

Immediately, voices erupt around him through his headset, all of them essentially calling his bullshit. Marjan smacks him in the shoulder.

“Hey!” TK laughs, nudging her in the side with his elbow in retaliation.

“If you spilled the details, maybe I’ll go easy on you,” Marjan says, cocking a brow, and TK rolls his eyes and barely suppresses a groan.

“There’s nothing to tell?” TK tries, though he knows his lie is evident to all of them.

“That hickey says otherwise,” Judd pipes up, and TK shoots him a glare.

“Come on now, children,” his dad says, and TK huffs a little laugh.

And then he looks out the window as the rig slows.

“Shit,” Paul says, following TK’s line of vision. And, well, yeah. Because the road is a mess, various vehicles piled up. But it’s what’s at the heart of the accident that catches all of their attention: a semi-truck, tipped onto its side, with a dull grey car trapped underneath.

“Okay, everyone, all hands on deck,” Owen says, all of them out of the truck the moment it comes to a full stop. They’re the first to the scene, only a few police cruisers trying to set up a barrier, and so he hears his dad yell to him that he’s on point for checking on the car driver. It’s all he needs to hear to immediately jump into action, even as his dad keeps shouting orders for Paul and Judd to grab the jaws and deal with the truck driver.

He and Marjan move into a jog, hiking their gear up high on their shoulders.

Once they get to the driver’s side of the car, TK knows it’s going to be a tough day.

The driver is completely crushed under the weight of the steering column, the whole front of her car folded in like an accordion. There’s blood dripping from a gash on her forehead, and what looks to be a broken arm, and TK has only barely set eyes on her and he already doesn’t like the way she’s trying so hard to breathe.

“Ma’am? My name’s TK, and this is Marjan, we’re AFD,” TK starts, the spiel coming out of his mouth without a second thought. Marjan clears the window of the sharp shards of broken glass, giving them more room to work; he meets her eyes and she nods, reaching down for her radio to call for the jaws and some extra hands. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Rachel,” she gasps, and TK nods, pressing his fingers to her wrist that looks mostly uninjured for a pulse. It’s weak, but he tries to school his features so she can’t see his worry.

“Marjan, we’re going to need to secure her neck, and once medical gets here we’re going to need to get her on oxygen,” he says, before meeting Rachel’s eyes. “Okay, Rachel, we’re getting you out of here. We just need a minute to secure you.”

“Hurts to—breathe,” she stutters, and TK clenches his jaw. Marjan opens the backdoor of the car with a few good tugs, and slips into the seat, reaching around to place a neck brace on Rachel.

“TK, tell me what’s going on.”

His dad’s voice pulls him from listening to Rachel’s shallow breathing, and he responds: “Female driver, she’s completely pinned, Cap. Weak pulse, low BP—I need medical here now.”

“They’re coming, maybe a minute out,” his dad says, sidling up to him. He looks through the car and meets TK’s eyes, both of them knowing how time sensitive this rescue is going to be.

TK feels a little relieved when he sees Mateo arrive with a backboard, and Nancy and Tim trailing just steps behind him. Judd’s voice crackles through the radio, informing them that the truck driver’s only a little banged up.

“Hey, Rachel, the paramedics are here now, okay?” TK says, though when she latches onto his arm, he squeezes her hand. “I won’t leave you.”

She nods, looking at him with wide, scared eyes.

When Nancy gets the other side of the car open, pulling a nasal cannula from her bag and talking with Tim about her ABCs, TK keeps her looking at him. She looks like she’s going to drop any second, tears sliding through the grime on her cheeks, her breaths still too weak.

“Hey, just talk to me,” TK says, his only thought to keep her awake.

Rachel just starts crying harder.

TK meets Nancy’s eyes from across the car, and feels Marjan at his side. “Hey, hey, Rachel. Listen to me. Do you have someone? Someone waiting for you at home?”

“Lena,” she sniffles, her voice growing weaker. “We’re—we’re getting married in April.”

“Tell me about her,” TK says, eyes pleading, barely registering the murmured conversation around them as a plan forms.

“She’s always worrying about me, calls me a danger magnet,” she laughs wetly, and neither of them mention the blood that stains her lips.

“Sounds like my boyfriend,” he tells her, and she meets his eyes, something hopeful presented in her gaze. “I got shot last year and burst my stitches a week later. He tells me all the time that I’m not allowed to go to the hospital again unless I want to send him to an early grave.”

Rachel smiles at him, faintly, and squeezes his hand. “She—she’s my best friend. I just want to see her again.”

“You will,” TK says, before he can even think about what he’s promising.

He steps back for a moment, being pulled into the plan from his dad. He’s left with the job of talking to Rachel, considering he’s made the most significant contact with her.

TK takes a deep breath, and returns, frowning at her pained expression. “Okay, Rachel. We’re going to have to use some equipment to get you out, and I won’t lie to you, it’s going to hurt. But think of Lena, okay? I promise you that we’ll get you back to her.”

“But my chest,” she groans, trying weakly to move against the weight pushing her down again. Both he and Nancy immediately reach out to settle her, hands on her shoulders. “I think I have a concussion, and—and it hurts. Everything hurts.”

“You’re going to see her, so soon,” TK promises, imagining what he’d want to hear if he were in her place. He thinks of Carlos, and knows he’d do anything if it meant getting home to him. “I swear to you. I will make sure you get home to her.”

“TK,” Marjan whispers, and he meets her gaze before his eyes flit away. He knows what it means, to make impossible promises. But he fully intends on keeping this one.

“Now, I’m going to count down from three, and me and my team are cutting you out of here, okay?” TK says, and she nods, eyes closing tight. “Think of Lena.”

It’s a bit of a mess, once Owen starts them on the routine procedure, using the jaws and every tool they have to remove the driver’s door; to wedge her out from the steering column. Once she’s on the backboard and lifted onto the stretcher, they start losing her, and Tim immediately starts on compressions.

TK holds his breath, staggering back against the car. Marjan squeezes his shoulder until they hear Nancy declare that she’s got a pulse. They rush her to the ambulance, and that’s supposed to be it. TK knows it.

“Take a breather,” his dad says, cupping the back of his neck. TK nods, feeling exhaustion ache deep in his bones. “You did good, kid.”

TK just nods again. Marjan knocks her shoulder into his before giving him some space, heading off to check the few witnesses still standing around for any superficial injuries. He ends up walking to somewhere private, which ends up being the back of the ladder truck, where he can lean against the paneling and keep himself upright.

He doesn’t realize how out of it he feels until there’s hands gently cupping either side of his face, carefully tipping his head up.

“Carlos?” TK’s voice sounds weak even to his own ears, and his boyfriend nods, looking concerned.

“TK, are you okay?” Carlos asks, and it’s only when he drags his thumbs across TK’s cheeks and wipes away the tears there that TK realizes he’d even been crying. “Sweetheart...”

“I’m okay,” TK says, sniffing hard. “I swear. I’m just exhausted.”

He leans into Carlos’ touch, though, because he’s got his boyfriend here and doesn’t want to have to let him go just yet.

He voices his desire, barely audible to anyone but his boyfriend. “Stay with me for a minute? I just need to—to get my head on straight.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Carlos whispers, and TK sighs and drops his head to rest against Carlos’ chest.

“Just—just a rough call,” he murmurs, mostly into Carlos’ uniform. He feels a hand carding through his hair, and settles under the touch. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’ll be wherever you need me, Ty,” Carlos says, ducking down to press a kiss to the crown of TK’s head. “Always.”

#tarlos #911 lone star #tarlos fic #my fic #trevorvanriemsdyk

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itslittlegiggle · 4 years ago

Text

The Medic Tent

A/N: yooo i finally got around to this lovely prompt! i literally love the idea of Percy and Will teaming up to annoy Nico. i hope you enjoy it <333

One of the things Nico enjoyed doing the most in his free time was watching Will work.

Though no crazy wars were currently raging, the medics from Apollo’s cabin were kept on their toes. There were always campers with minor injuries popping into their little medic tent, cuts and bruises and burns from training and camp activities. Occasionally a broken bone or serious concussion would need a little more medical attention, but generally it was all stuff the healers could handle quickly.

And maybe Nico was biased, but he thought Will was especially good at what he did. He never tired of watching the older boy wrap bandages on arms and legs, fingers careful but so quick it was hard to see what he was doing sometimes, or the gentle way he cleaned wounds as he smiled and tried to reassure nervous campers.

In quiet moments the two got to spend some private time together; other days so many campers needed attending to for injuries it made Nico tired just watching Will work, but Will seemed so in place and so happy that Nico couldn’t help admiring him. There were also days when Nico wanted to strangle him because Will decided teasing Nico and getting under his skin was the best pastime.

And some days, if the Fates were really feeling like making Nico suffer, Percy would pop in to say hi, and Will and Percy would have a glorious time annoying Nico to the point where he wanted to strangle them.

Today was one of those days.

It had been a quiet morning; no campers had needed to be tended to yet, so it was just Nico and Will in the medic tent. Nico sat on top of an empty cot and watched Will roll up extra rolls of bandages and sanitize medical supplies. They were chatting away about Gods knows what - Mythomagic or new medical techniques or whatever - when Percy decided to grace the two boys with his presence.

“Hey dudes. What’s hanging?”

“Restock day,” Will responded, grinning as Percy walked over and sat in a chair next to the cot Nico was on.

“Nice. Is it any fun?”

“I guess,” Will said, starting to cross back and forth across the tent space to move the bandages and supplies he’d been working on onto a shelf.

“Do you get bored watching him?” Percy asked Nico. “Or is there ever, like, a cool new medical tool that looks more like a torture device that you get to test out or new vitamins that turn your skin blue or something?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “No, Percy. We mostly just patch up campers and organize supplies.”

“We? I think you mean he,” Percy teased, gesturing to Will. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nurture someone. Dunno if you’re the healing type, Nico.”

Nico blushed. “I’ve seen the dead plants in your cabin,” he retorted. “I don’t think you could nurture anybody back to health, either.

“Whatever, Mr. Death Boy,” Percy said, poking Nico in the side and laughing loudly when it made the boy jolt and yelp out a hey!

“Aww, is the scawy Ghost King a wittle tickwish?” Gods, Nico hated that Percy couldn’t stop laughing - because that meant he found it amusing, which meant he would never leave it alone. Ever.

“Oh, very,” Will interjected as he walked past the cot to put bandages on a shelf. “You didn’t know? It’s quite cute.”

“Will. Shut up.”

Will smirked at the Nico and crossed the room again to grab more bandages to put away. “You should see what happens when you touch his neck.”

As the first protests fell from Nico’s lips, a huge scowl on his face, Percy did just that; all he did was swipe some fingers on the side of Nico’s neck, and the boy squashed Percy’s fingers when his shoulder automatically shot up. And then Nico giggled, he giggled, which was already enough to make him want to go to the Underworld and never return, and he couldn’t seem to push Percy’s hand away. Eventually he leaned so far back trying to escape the ticklish feeling on his neck he was laying down on the cot.

“Awesome,” Percy grinned. “Where else?”

“Knees,” Will called out casually, like Percy had asked where to find tissues and Will was simply telling him oh, top drawer on the right.

Nico tried to sit up so he could scramble away, hopefully out of the country, when Percy’s hand clamped down just above one of Nico’s knees and he squealed like a kid. Which, of course, only encouraged Percy to keep going. Nico tried to call out some threats to the older boys, but instead his cackling rose in pitch and his leg spasmed.

And to make things worse, Percy was enjoying himself. “Where is he the worst?” He asked Will.

“Two places. Here, I’ll show you.”

“Will,” Nico managed to growl (though he didn’t sound very menacing because of his squeaky giggles), “don’t you even da - no, Wihill!”

Nico’s giggles soared into full-on laughter as Will grabbed at the middle of his belly, clawing quickly around the soft expanse. Nico tried to push his hand away, kick him in the gut, anything to get him to stop, but he was too weak with laughter to do anything.

And Gods, now Percy was cooing, and Nico was sure he had never been so embarrassed in his life.

“Where’s the other place? Percy asked.

“Will,” Nico gasped, “ahah, quit it!”

“Hip.” Will popped the p as he began to repeatedly jab Nico in the dip of one of his hips with his index finger. Nico started laughing harder than Percy had probably ever seen him laugh, and he could hear Percy laughing as well while he mirrored Will’s finger jabbing on Nico’s other hip.

And then one of them was clawing at Nico’s belly again while the other dug their thumbs into his hips, and he couldn’t even tell who was doing which because he was laughing so hard he couldn’t open his eyes. After a few more attempts at yelling out threats the boys stopped, and Nico tried to collect himself as he attempted to cease his residual giggles.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had,” Percy grinned. “You sound so, like, happy and cute and when you laugh. Y’know, like a normal kid.”

“It’s pretty great,” Will responded, and Nico just groaned as he sat up again, glaring at them.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” Nico threatened, pointing a finger at them. “I will literally overrun your cabins with zombies.” The boys only laughed, Will throwing an arm around Nico’s shoulders and kissing the crown of his head. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Me neither,” Percy said. “That was too fun.”

And though Nico was tired and embarrassed and a little frazzled, he couldn’t stay mad for long. He still punched Will in the arm, though.

It was never a dull day in the medical tent.

#percyjackson!tickling #heroesofolympus!tickling #ticklish!nicodiangelo #ticklish!nico #Nico di Angelo #Percy Jackson #Will Solace #tickle fic #Tickling #Heroes of Olympus #solangelo #solangelo!tickling

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Night Out

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

#fluffember day 18 - ‘touch’ - and something a little different, mostly because @janetm74 decided to call me out about whacking ‘unsuspecting characters’ with a chair of ‘pain and suffering’ and @gumnut-logic mentioned literally hitting them with a chair... I promise this is mostly fluff still! That Teen rating (Teen for a fluff fic? Tsari what are you doing?) is for language and alcohol, because we have two former military boys in a London pub.

Gordon learnt two things that night: Scott was an affectionate drunk, and sometimes people throw bar stools for no good reason.

Gordon couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone out with Scott – just Scott – for a reason that wasn’t mission related. He’d hit the town with Alan (not that alcohol was allowed on those occasions, what with the kid being underage and all that) a few times, and Virgil on more than a few post-mission de-stressors, but Scott was always too busy for frivolous things like having fun.

No more. It had taken some convincing, a lot of wheedling, and the strong-arm combination of Grandma and Virgil, but a blissful forty-eight hours’ downtime was being spent in England, just because they could. The gracious offer of being chauffeured around by Parker – made by her Ladyship, to the man’s apparent disgruntlement – just made the choice all the easier. And what better way to unwind than a nice, rowdy night in the pub?

Karaoke, free-flowing alcohol, and Scott’s communicator firmly confiscated in the Creighton-Ward manor to ensure he didn’t slip back into work habits meant that he was having the time of his life, and Scott seemed to be enjoying himself, too. At least, if the gaggle of girls he’d acquired, flirting with him and being flirted with in kind, was anything to go by, his big brother was definitely enjoying himself for once.

Unwilling to spend the entire night as the wingman, and definitely not interested in finding out if Scott managed to go further than just exchanging some smooth words, Gordon had found himself over by the pool table. He’d spent enough time in pubs – even if he’d been underage for most of it and Scott (probably) didn’t know that – to be able to find entertainment with a group of strangers, so separating from his brother wasn’t much of an issue.

He was good at pool, too. Good enough to quickly work his way through the ranks until he was the champion everyone else paid to play, and all in all he was having a really good time of it. The drinks were good, the company was fantastic, and best of all, he was having a blast. Maybe later he’d drag Scott away from the girls for a game – show the Londoners exactly how good the Tracys were (and hope Scott was inebriated enough not to beat him, because Scott played a mean game sober).

At least, that was the plan. The world liked to mess with plans.

It started with raised voices. Nothing unusual in a pub, especially now it was entering late evening and the alcohol had been flowing for a while. Gordon thought nothing of it, and continued to roast his latest challenger at pool, beaming when the black ball found the pocket. Well-meant congratulations passed between the two of them – they had manners, after all – and Gordon cast around for his next opponent.

Then the tingle ran up his spine, and immediately on its heels came a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, bro,” the guy – Dennis, Gordon had trounced him two games earlier to much laughter and another pint – started. “Didn’t you come in with that guy?”

There was only one that guy he’d come in with, and combined with his squid sense kicking in, Gordon had a sinking feeling as he turned to look at where he’d left Scott.

Just in time to see a bar stool smash into his head.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just Gordon’s default reaction to seeing someone smash a bar stool over his brother’s head, but his vision went red. The pool cue dropped, but he paid no attention to where it landed, already surging forwards towards where his brother had crumpled to the floor.

Someone was laughing, someone else was screaming, but Gordon had eyes for only two things: his unmoving brother, and the guy still holding the bar stool aloft.

“Hey!” he roared, elbowing gawkers out of the way and slamming into the guy hard enough to make him loose his grip on the stool. It fell to the floor with a crash, thankfully missing Scott, followed by the man himself. Gordon kept his feet, feeling the buzz of alcohol mixing with adrenaline, and placed himself firmly between the aggressor and his brother.

Everyone else backed off; in his periphery Gordon could tell that the three of them – him, Scott and the stool-wielding asshole – were loosely ringed in by the other patrons of the pub, all looking on with varying emotions ranging from astonishment, fear, and bloodlust.

“You with ‘im?” Stool-Bastard spat, pulling himself to his feet with a glower that was supposed to be intimidating. Gordon hadn’t served in WASP to be cowed by a drunkard in a London pub.

“You attack him for a reason?” he shot back, hearing shuffling noises from directly behind him. Good, that sounded like Scott was conscious. The pleasant fuzz of alcohol was gone, leaving him as sharply aware as it was possible to be after however many drinks he’d had, and he tallied everything up as the guy snarled, swaying on the spot but not attacking. Not yet.

Tabs were all paid up; no need to worry about any unpaid drinks. No sign of the bouncers, but that could change any moment and a barfight was not high on Gordon’s list of reasons to get arrested (yes, he had one. No, his brothers didn’t know about it). The nearest exit was… there, by the group of girls Scott had been with.

If Scott was conscious, as he suspected, it wouldn’t take much to get out of there. He just needed to not be attacked the moment he turned his back.

“’E was ‘itting on my girl,” the man snarled. Gordon had many things to say to that, including the fact that Scott – even drunk – had morals and that if the guy didn’t trust his girlfriend around other guys then maybe he should be looking for problems a little closer to home. He said none of them.

He didn’t have to. The girls surged forward, arguing the point for him – good for them, and did he need to take note of their names to hand over to Lady P? – and he took the chance to crouch down and assess Scott’s condition.

His brother had managed to drag himself up onto his elbows, one hand holding his head, and there was a scowl on his face. Blue eyes were dilated and a little unfocused, although how much of that was the alcohol as opposed to the knock, Gordon wasn’t entirely certain.

“You good to stand up?” he asked, gently touching where Scott was holding his head. The dazed blue eyes blinked at him for a second, and his brother grimaced but tried to move. Gordon caught him when he swayed, wedging himself under one arm and dragging Scott’s arm around his neck for support, wrapping a firm arm of his own around his brother’s waist.

Dennis from pool came over, clearly offering help, but Gordon waved him off with a smile that was probably more strained than he’d planned.

“I got him,” he said. “If you want to help, make sure that bastard doesn’t get another hit in.” He didn’t want trouble – this was supposed to be a relaxing downtime, dammit all – he just wanted to get Scott somewhere safe so he could check him over properly. Luckily, the man got the message and moved to stand so that he was blocking Stool-Bastard’s view of them, leaving Gordon to haul his brother out the door.

No-one else stopped him, and with a few stumbles – Scott was heavy, okay? – he got them over to a nearby bench, which Scott sank onto bonelessly. Gordon shot a quick message to Parker to come get them – fun night out was over – before turning his attention to Scott.

“You with me?” he asked, keeping an arm around his shoulders and peering at the shock of brown hair resting on his shoulder. “Scott?”

“M’fcker,” his brother slurred, sounding vaguely annoyed. He didn’t move, though, seemingly content to remain slumped against Gordon’s side and trust him to hold him up. It was just un-Scott-like enough for him to be a little worried, but he had also been drinking and he wasn’t entirely sure how much Scott had had. Nor had he actually ever seen Scott drunk before – at least, not without the buffer of Virgil and/or John to handle him. He vaguely recalled something about him being an affectionate drunk, though, so with any luck that was all that was.

Still, he ran his free hand through gelled hair, gently probing for signs of injury. Scott hissed when he reached the back of his head, where he’d seen the blow land, and Gordon explored the area lightly with his fingers. It didn’t seem like it was a bad knock – certainly not as bad as it could have been, and he was starting to realise it had actually only been a glancing blow rather than the square hit he’d initially thought – but it could definitely do with some ice and painkillers, and he was pretty certain there was a minor concussion in there, too.

No amount of alcohol explained Scott’s suddenly quiet and slightly lethargic attitude, when Gordon knew he’d been laughing and flirting right before the attack. Virgil was going to be so pleased.

“Hey,” he tried again, poking his cheek when he didn’t get an instant response. “Talk to me, Scott. What happened back there?”

Scott groaned at him and buried his face further into his neck in an additional show of drunk and concussed. “D’nno,” he muttered. Gordon felt more than heard the words. “M’fcker came’p ‘hind me ‘nd yelled sommat ‘bouta girl. D’nno what. Then th’bast’d hit me.”

A very small part of Gordon was amused at the filterless language. He knew Scott knew how to cuss – he’d Served, the same as he had – but Big Brother also had a very strong grip on his language around family. To hear what was no doubt a throwback to the Air Force days was quietly satisfying. However, most of Gordon was a combination of furious and worried, in approximately equal measures. Maybe a little more worried than furious, but there was a large part of him that really wanted to show the guy why you never messed with a Tracy.

Fortunately for his PR, Scott needed him here, not embroiled in a fight or spending the night in a lockup, so he swallowed down the rage and pulled his brother a little bit closer.

“Anything hurt except your head?” he asked, brushing his fingers through his hair again. Scott shook his head then groaned.

“’m fine,” he claimed, still not lifting his head from where it was buried in Gordon’s neck. “St’p fussin’.”

“I’ll stop fussing once we’re back at the manor and your head’s been looked at properly,” Gordon countered, to another groan. “How much did you drink?”

“Was’nly weak sh’t,” Scott told him. “Few p’ntsa cid’r.” Enough to get buzzed but not enough to get blindly drunk, then.

A breeze blew past them, reminding Gordon that London was in England and therefore cold. Scott shivered just a bit – not enough to be noticed if he wasn’t plastered against Gordon’s side – and he tightened his grip again. Neither of them were dressed for the night air, not with the original plan being for them to remain inside the pub until Parker arrived, and the thin jacket Gordon did have on wouldn’t fit his brother, even if he could peel him off long enough to shuck it.

“Not the best end to an evening,” he mused instead, rubbing at the denim jacket Scott had on in a vain attempt to give him a little more warmth.

“C’n say thattag’n,” Scott agreed, burrowing into his side even more. Gordon assumed he was trying to leech body heat. “S’posed t’be fun.”

“Well we’ve got all of tomorrow to lounge around the manor,” Gordon reminded him, spying a flash of pink approaching at speed. “You know that’ll be fun.”

“W’th this h’ngov’r?” Scott complained. Gordon winced – he had a point.

“It’ll be fine,” he promised, letting go of his brother with one hand to flag Parker down. “Water and painkillers and you’ll be good as new.” Depending on the severity of the concussion, that might be stretching it a bit. Scott was definitely going to be off duty for more than another day, though.

FAB1 pulled to a stop next to them and Parker jumped out, eyes sharp and alert as he took in their condition.

“Trouble, sirs?”

“Someone took a swing at Scott with a bar stool,” Gordon admitted, prodding his brother. Parker’s eyes narrowed and he suspected Stool-Bastard might find his own brand of trouble later, once Parker was convinced they were safe. The man seemed to have a soft spot for Scott – hell knew he didn’t have one for Gordon, despite his best efforts to the contrary. “C’mon, Scott. Let’s get you in the car.” His brother groaned but at least made a token effort to stand up, freeing Gordon long enough for him to get to his own feet and haul Scott up. Parker slid around to Scott’s other side without waiting to be asked, and between them they helped him stagger into the back seat, where he promptly slumped again. Gordon slid in beside him and was immediately reclaimed as a pillow, which he resisted long enough to make sure they were both strapped in before allowing Scott to bury his head in his neck again.

“’Ow ‘is ‘e?” Parker asked as he slipped back into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb. Gordon caught sight of him looking at them in the rear view mirror and offered a tight grin.

“Minor concussion,” he answered, running his hand through Scott’s hair again, to a quiet noise that could have been either complaint or contentment. “He also drunk enough to get buzzed, so I’m not entirely sure how much of this-” he shrugged at the big brother draped against him “-is that.”

“Hmm.” Parker sounded unconvinced, but did at least return his attention to the road.

Gordon glanced down at his brother and poked him lightly.

“You’d better not be falling asleep on me, Scott,” he warned.

“’M n’t,” came the muffled response. “W’k m’up wh’n we g’t therr.”

“Scott, no,” Gordon scolded, shrugging his shoulder and forcibly peeling his brother off of him. “You’re concussed. Don’t sleep.”

The baleful glare he got was pretty pathetic, on the Scott scale, but his brother huffed in defeat.

“F’n,” he grumbled. Gordon caught his head when he attempted to bury it in his neck – again – and guided it to rest normally on his shoulder.

“We’ll have a proper look at the manor,” he promised. “Then you can rest.”

Scott huffed, but didn’t close his eyes again. He did, however, wrap an arm around Gordon in a tight grip, which he returned in kind.

“Are you always this cuddly when you’re drunk?” he asked. The grumble he got wasn’t a coherent answer, but the way Scott purposefully looked away was. Gordon laughed. “That explains why you don’t go out drinking with us much. Do any of the others know this?”

“Shuddup,” Scott grumped. It was a shame he was also concussed, otherwise the blackmail would have been glorious.

Aw, who was he kidding. As soon as Scott came out the other side clear, it was totally acceptable blackmail. For now, though, he was content to hold onto his brother while Parker drove them back to the manor, more than a little relieved it hadn’t been worse.

So much for a relaxing night out with his brother.

#fluffember #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #aloysius parker #thunderfluff

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lilmissmousey · 4 years ago

Text

Hi there.

It’s been awhile.

Denial Chapter 7 is live 💖 love you all

Denial Chapter 7

Vegeta stared with disdain at the flight of stairs in front of him. Hip throbbing, head aching, temper boiling, he attempted to rise from the front passengers seat of Bulma’s black SUV only to be engulfed in a blinding fire of pain.

“What’re you doing?!” Bulma’s hand gripped Vegetas shoulder, “You goon! You can’t be walking right now! Your hip is broken!”

“Watch. Me.” He growled, brushing her fingers off.

Bulma massaged her temples, “For the love of God. Let me get the crutches out of the back at least!”

“I will NOT be caught dead with crutches! I will snap them in half! I can do it my-“

“Hi ya buddy!”

Oh. Oh no. Vegeta knew that obnoxious, chipper voice.

Beaming down at him with a huge smile from the open car door, arm up and casually leaning on the roof was Goku, “Ya missed our match this morning! Just wanted to see...hey, what happened to you?!”

“It...” Vegeta mumbled, “it was nothing. Just a little run in with a car.”

Goku’s dark eyes grew large, “A car?”

“Nothing?!” Bulma’s head popped into view from beside Vegeta, “You got HIT by a car!”

Goku blinked, “Who’re you?”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Vegeta could feel his cheeks starting to burn hot.

“Not that bad?!” Bulma shrieked, “you were unconscious for hours! You have a concussion! And a fractured hip!”

“A minor inconvenience.”

“You almost died!”

“Says who?”

The man outside the SUV watched with great confusion. Vegeta got hit by a car? There had been a blurb on the news the other night about it, but they hadn’t released a name. Only the vehicle description. Goku felt terrible he hadn’t known sooner. Vegeta was his buddy. He also could have sworn he recognized the blue haired woman in the drivers seat from somewhere...

“Aha!” Goku proclaimed, snapping his fingers loudly.

Both Vegeta and Bulma’s mouth snapped shut, their eyes both now focused on Goku.

“You’re the girl from Vegeta’s phone!” Goku grinned, “The girl on the wallpaper! It’s nice to meet ya! I’m Goku. Vegetas ju jitsu partner!” His large hand shoved itself past Vegetas nose to shake Bulma’s hand which she offered, “man, he sure talks about ya a whole lot! And with how much he doesn’t talk that’s sure saying something!”

“Kakarot...” Vegeta hissed, ignoring Bulma’s smug smile.

“Well, I think you and I are going to get a long just fine!” Bulma laughed, giving Gokus hand a last squeeze before Vegeta batted it away from in front of his face.

“Man, I’m sorry to hear about the accident!” Goku scratched his chin, “I tried callin’ ya yesterday to make sure of the plans, but ya never answered. Makes sense now.”

Vegeta inhaled sharply, “Ah shit.” His phone. He never even realized it was gone.

“Oh no,” Bulma sighed, “Vegeta, you lost your phone? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s just a phone,” he mumbled, “I’ll buy another.”

“Already done.” Bulma finished typing something on her phone screen and shoved it back in her purse, “I ordered you another, I’ll have someone drop it off this afternoon.”

Suddenly, as if a wave came over him, Vegeta felt to tired to argue. The world shifted on its axis, causing a rippling wave of nausea. He winced, adjusting his hip as the pain radiated, “Thanks.” He muttered.

“Hey, you okay buddy?” Goku crouched down, eyes full of worry, “What can I do?”

From inside Bulma’s heart, a warmth began to tug. This Goku guy was very kind, “We need to get him inside,” she said gently, blue eyes meeting Goku’s black, “But he’s not supposed to walk very much. He has crutches, but is refusing to use them.”

Goku’s brows furrowed, “Aw man. I just came from ‘Geets apartment. The elevators broken.”

Heaving a sigh, Vegeta cracked one eye open, willing the world to stop spinning as he met the worried gaze of his best friend. Hades be damned if he ever admitted it, but in his own heart he knew it to be true. He was well aware Goku felt that way about him as he expressed his feelings openly and without abandon, and never once forced Vegeta to say it in return. It was unwritten, but wholly understood between them, “Kakarot, I’m going to ask you the most embarrassing question of my life.” He winced.

That look of determination Goku got before every match suddenly spread across his face “What’s that?”

~~~

“Okay bud, only about ten steps left.” Goku carefully readjusted his arm beneath Vegetas left armpit, gripping the right hand a little tighter that was slung over his shoulder. Every step the took, Goku would lift Vegetas entire body off the ground, gently placing him right foot down on the next step. It had taken over a half hour and a lot of swear words from Vegeta, but they finally reached the apartment. Bulma unlocked the door, opening it wide enough for both men to fit through. As they finally crested the threshold Vegeta grunted, and quickly tightened his grip meaningfully on Gokus hand, being careful to not meet the larger mans eyes. He could feel the gentle stare though, see the sincere smile out of the corner of his eye. Goku squeezed back and said warmly, “Anytime.”

“Mph.” Vegeta looked away. Goku chuckled.

Bulma’s head popped out from Vegetas bedroom, “Let’s get him laying down in here.”

“Got it!” Goku grinned, then turned his head “Hey,” he whispered in Vegetas ear, “at least ya got a cute nurse outta the deal.”

“Shut. Up.” Vegeta hissed.

“Hey,” Goku shrugged, “it’s better than a picture, ain’t it?”

Vegeta clenched his jaw. A picture; his picture. It was gone. In all honesty, he was more upset about that than the phone. Hopefully it had been saved somehow.

After another round of swear words, Vegetas leg was propped up with pillows, at least relieving some of the pain. Bulma flitted around, gathering water and snacks as well as sorting out Vegetas pain pills in the kitchen as Goku sat on the edge of Vegetas bed and asked questions about the accident.

“I’m telling you, it was intentional.” Vegeta muttered, sipping at the glass of ice water Bulma had already placed on the side of the bed, “just a gut feeling.”

Face propped in his hand, dark brows pulled together, Goku drummed his fingers on his cheek, “Who though? And why her? She seems awful nice.”

Vegetas eyes darted to the door to make sure Bulma wasn’t eavesdropping, “Not sure. It could be anyone. She has a position of power in her company, and the smarts and money to go with it. There are a few nasty lawsuits floating around. I’ll have to take a look when I get the chance.”

“Hm.” Goku stood, stretching his back, “Well, I still have a few contacts out there. Old friends,” he shot an uncharacteristically dark smirk at Vegeta, “I’ll see what I can find.”

Vegetas eyes narrowed, “Don’t go digging to much Kakarot. You don’t need to get involved. We’ve both been out a long time. You’ve got a clean record. You’ve got the wife and kid to worry about.”

“Eh, Chichi won’t mind.” Goku shrugged, “She can’t mind if she doesn’t know anyways. I was never really a part of them in the first place. No one, and I mean no one, hurts my friends.” There was a sharp edge on the end of that sentence that made Vegetas fist clench into the blanket, a small and familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through him.

Goku’s normally chipper facade seemed to falter for a minute, a glint in his eyes, “Just like the old days. I got you. And you got me.” Just as quickly as the tense air in the room was there, it was immediately sucked out again, and Goku’s grin returned, “Anyways, fell better buddy! Call me when you get your new phone!” With a roll of his neck, and with his signature wave, Goku was out the door.

Vegeta let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He knew that look. He knew that Goku. That was the Goku most people had never met. He hadn’t see that look in a long, long time.

I got you. And you got me. The words repeated in Vegetas head, memories of them as young teens racing through back alleys, those same words being laughed as Goku and he managed to get away from whatever trouble they were involved in. “What have I done.” Vegeta muttered, eyes pinching closed as another wave of nausea ran through him.

“You alright?”

“Just...a headache still,” He grumbled, Bulma’s cool fingers dancing across his forehead.

“I’ll get you your medicine.” She whispered, “I’ll shut the blind too. The light may be hurting your eyes.”

Vegeta grunted, “I don’t need the pills. I just need some sleep.”

Bulma sighed, the sounds of the blind hitting the window sill echoing like a bomb in his ears, “Stop trying to be tough, it’s alright. You got hit by a car. You’re allowed some pain relief.” He could hear her shuffling around the room. Everything was so overwhelming. He wished this would stop.

Another wave of head pain, “I just need you.” The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, his eyes still sensitive from the concussion pain snapped open to see if she’d heard.

But she wasn’t there.

“Did you say something?” Bulma’s called from the kitchen, “sorry, I was grabbing you some more water and the pain pills. I really think you should take them.”

Vegeta sighed, half relieved, half disappointed, “Whatever.”

#vegeta #vegeta x bulma #dbz #bulma #damnit vegeta #dbsuper #denial #mousewroteafic #scientist bulma #lawyer vegeta #lawyer au #that fanfiction life #fanfiction writing #fanfiction #bulma x vegeta #fluffy

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