#shes happy i promise she just has a tooth ache

[bigmammallama5]

Happy holidays (or happy wednesday) from me and the swishy girl!

[the-kr8tor]

High on the Feeling

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Summary: Hobie goes to the dentist and you leave with a very giggly and sweet Hobie high on anesthesia.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw blood, cw food mentions, talks of marriage, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff.

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Octobie 🎸

You've practically flipped through every single magazine in the dentist’s waiting room while you wait for Hobie. He's been complaining about the annoying ache in his molar that has hindered him from doing his responsibilities for the past few weeks. And after some convincing on your end (and a lot of smooches and coddling), he finally accepted that he needed a tooth extraction.

Now, you'd think that with his abilities that a regular ol' anesthesia wouldn't even work on him. But judging from the lack of swearing and screaming behind the tooth shaped door, you and Hobie's hypothesis were dead wrong.

You pick at your nails while you wait, and listen to the cheery pop song that's starting to make you more annoyed than the hospital-like smell of the place. The walls are painted stark white with a bunch of Ikea bought shelves perched on it where a bunch of teeth related decor sits and a handful of picture frames filled with stock photos of smiling people. You feel unnerved by the choice in decoration. Couldn't they just put infographics on how to properly brush your teeth like a normal dentist?

As the thought passes by your mind, the tooth shaped door opens and out comes Hobie stumbling over his own feet. Boots stomp loudly on the tiled floors, and you immediately run towards him to catch his flailing body.

Thankfully, you catch him in time, his head falls on your shoulder as his arms fall limp on his sides. His muffled groans reverberate, making you turn towards the rushing dentist assistant with her hands frantically pushing a wheelchair that you surmise was supposed to be Hobie's ride out.

“Is everything okay?” You ask both the nurse and Hobie, who's basically laying his entire weight on you. You feel his drool leaking onto your shirt. Or his shirt for that matter.

“I'm sorry, he just launched himself out of the wheelchair!” She sighs tiredly. “He keeps saying that London needs him. And that he's Spider-Man.”

Your eyes widen for a second before fixing your expression. “...Oh,” you say, laughing nervously. You put your arms under his armpits to hold him better. But it doesn't make it any easier to carry all 6 feet and three inches of Hobie. “How did it go? Is he alright? Except for being a drama queen.” You joke so that the woman forgets what Hobie told her.

Fortunately, she chuckles. “Yeah, the procedure went well. Although, he was a lightweight with the anesthesia. Like he was out out.”

“Really?” You furrow your brows questioningly while you hobble towards the wheelchair to sit him down or your hold on him will fail since he's tethering to the side now. “I thought you might've needed more of it than less.”

“Us too, he's just a bit loopy but he'll be okay after a few hours.” She helps you put Hobie on the chair, he falls unceremoniously on it with a clatter of metal. “I suggest you drive him home.” She winces when Hobie mumbles something incoherent with a giggle right after. He looks like a happy camper.

“Yeah, for sure.” You think he looks adorable with him looking like he's high up in cloud nine. He seems fine except for his droopy eyes and mouth, and all the drool pooling in the corner of his lips. At least he's not in pain anymore. Taking a handkerchief from your jean pocket, you gently dab at the corner of his lips, to which he hums appreciatively. “Thank you, I'll take it from here.”

She smiles as she hands you the push handles of the wheelchair over to you. “Of course—oh, I almost forgot. We kind of promised him ice cream.”

“Coconut!” Hobie suddenly yells, perking up from his seat with wide eyes. The other people waiting in the room jumps from their seats. If something bad happens to him because of the anesthesia, you're going to sue this place to the ground. You place your hand on his shoulder, which he immediately calms down and looks up at you with stars in his eyes.

“Coconut ice cream to be exact.” The nurse gives you an apologetic look.

“Good thing I know where to get some.” You smile down at Hobie, only to find him boyishly smiling up at you.

“You're pretty.” He whispers breathlessly like you've taken the air from his lungs. His hand holds the back of yours, patting it softly. He looks as handsome as ever even with a cotton ball shoved in his mouth.

“Thank you, Hobs, you're pretty too.” You feel like melting on the spot as he smiles at you. “Let's go home first and then I'll get you a whole pint.” Hopefully he'll be sober by then, although you're loving his lovestruck gaze on you.

“Home?” He asks while you push him towards the exit.

“Yeah, we live together, Hobie.” You giggle, nudging the top of his head with your chin. The bells hanging above the door jingles when an attendant opens it for you. The cooling autumn air greets you and Hobie.

“Woah.” He sighs like he couldn't believe your words. “We married?”

You pause right next to the van, heart squeezing in your chest. “Oh, Hobie.” His question is the most adorable thing you've ever heard.

“Oh no,” he utters like he hurt you. Stumbling out of the chair, he turns towards you to rub your arms just like he always does whenever you need comfort.

“Sit down, Hobie, you might fall—” His hands cradling your cheeks stop you from continuing. You see his eyes well up with tears, pretty hazel eyes glimmering under the afternoon sun. “Oh, baby, don't cry.”

“We're not married?” His lips wobbles, “that's bonkers.”

“Do you want us to be—?”

“Yes.” He says before you could finish your sentence. You hold him by his waist, helping him with his balance.

You chuckle with a soft smile, hand reaching up to rub your thumb along his chin as you peck the tip of his nose. “Tell you what, we'll talk about it in the car.”

“Really?” Hobie's eyes light up. You've only seen him like this whenever he gets home early on patrol only to see you waiting for him happily.

“Yes really. We’ll feed our guests coconut ice cream.”

He drops his head back, chuckling deeply. You raise his head back up in fear of him choking on the cotton ball. Once his head is upright on his neck once again, he grins at you. “You know ‘m Spider-Man, right, love?”

Your guffaw echoes around the parking lot, “off you go in the van, Spider-Man.” Guiding him towards the van, you turn the corner to open the passenger door for him.

Hobie takes a big whiff, and you look on with an endeared smile. “I smell pine.”

“Yeah, it's the scent thing we bought at the gas station.” You point at the swinging 2d pine tree in the rearview mirror, other hand placed on the small of his back, making sure that he doesn't fall.

“I don't fancy pine.” He pouts uncharacteristically, making you clamp down your lips to quiet your giddy laughter.

“It was the only thing available. We'll get a new one, okay?” Kissing his shoulder, ready to guide him on the seat, he leans in for a proper one but you move away before he could. He pouts again, brows fully knitted together. “Sorry, but we're in public, Hobs, and you have a bloody cotton in your mouth.” You really want to kiss him, you really do, but he probably can't tell his right from his left right now.

Hobie scrunches his nose, hand reaching up his mouth but you stop him halfway before he could yank it out. “Why?” Swatting your hand away, he playfully fights with you.

You continue to fight with his long arms, you two must've looked like a couple of kids baby fighting in the middle of the parking lot with your hands slapping his own away. “Because, you can't— Hobie! You can't take it off!”

“But I want to snog you.” If it wasn't for his haze filled eyes, you'd think that he's playing with you.

“I promise you can snog me as much as you want later when you're well aware of your surroundings—!” His hands manage to grab hold each of your wrists, braceleting his fingers around them. You fight a giggle, acting like you mean business but the amusement in your eyes says otherwise. “Get in the car please.”

“You promise later?” Hobie clicks his forehead against your own. Eyes fully closed, sighing quietly.

Rubbing his back, you let him calm down from his high for a moment. “Yes, I promise—” you hear soft snores. “Are you asleep?!”

After wrangling Hobie into the passenger seat, making sure that his seatbelt is properly settled, you finally pull out of the parking lot. Once you manage to get back on the road, you glance towards Hobie, who's looking out the window with his face squished on the glass.

“You okay over there?” Patting his leg, you get his attention, and you swear he looked like he just realized you were in the car with him when his entire expression lit up like a billboard in New York. “I wish I had a camera right now.”

“What for?” He places his head on the head rest, cheek smooshed on the leather, eyes sparkling as he looks at you softly.

“To take a picture of you.”

“I want to take a picture of you.” He says softly, “a million pictures of you.”

“Can one of those pictures be with you too?” You grin, trying to focus on the road ahead instead of looking at the adorable sight next to you.

“If you want to.” His eyes flutter close, but he's clearly fighting sleep.

“Well, I want to.” You stop the car when the light turns red, a perfect opportunity to hold his hand. “You can nap if you want. I'll wake you up when we're home.”

“I want to pick flowers for you.” You swear your heart jumps out of your chest. “But only your favourites.”

“And I'll get you coconut ice cream as much as you want.”

His eyes closes to the hum of the engine. “I'll share it with you.”

“I know you will, Hobs.” Kissing the back of his hand, you let him go just as when the light turns green.

Hobie has always been sweet on you, but this time, he's beyond just being sweet. Your teeth feel like it's rotting from how incredibly saccharine he is. And you love every second of it, but you wish that the meds wear off so you could be with the same Hobie who hogs the blanket at night and who wakes you up with his cold feet against your thigh.

—

You cuddle close to Hobie whilst you feed him spoonfuls of coconut ice cream on the sofa. The anesthesia has completely worn off, sobering up to his old self. You've given him his pain meds and you've lit up a scented candle for him to relax more. Crumpet sleeps next to him, face snuggled up against his side, unbothered by everything that's happening around her. Your head finds penchant atop his chest as his palm rests above your stomach after he casually flung your shirt over his hand to feel your warmth.

“How's the pain?” You ask, while he draws patterns over your soft skin.

“Throbbin’, a three right now. Nothin' I can't handle though.” He says while you scoop out another spoonful for him. “I think they took more than one tooth.” He says while he opens his mouth for you to feed him another dollop.

“Do you want me to check?” You tease, pointing at his bottom lip with the spoon, looking up at him with a smirk.

“Maybe later,” he squeezes your nose before letting go with a chuckle. “What else did I say other than tellin' people my secret?”

“They didn't believe you anyway, thanks to the meds.” A drop of ice cream falls from the bowl down to your hand, licking it off, you let the sweet treat melt in your mouth after giving it a taste. He looks at you like you're the dessert. Smiling, you perch both of your legs on his lap, to which he just grins wider at. “You really want to know?”

“Was I that embarrassin’?” Hobie nudges the crown of your head with his nose to tell you that it's his turn to be fed. Arm pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Blackmail worthy,” you joke, you move to take another mouthful of ice cream but he beats you to it by taking your wrist to lead the spoon towards his mouth instead. “Rude.” You giggle and he pinches your side.

“C’mon, tell me.” He wipes away a bit of cream from the corner of your lips with his thumb, which he quickly licks away, flustering you in your seat. He smirks victoriously, eyebrows raising smugly. He knows what he's done.

“Fine,” you laugh, pushing at his chest lightly. “you asked if we were married. And you cried when I said no.”

“That's… the right reaction.” He tilts his head in the same way like he's hiding a surprise for you. The last time he did this was when he got you your favourite pasta from a restaurant across the city.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What do you mean?” Your heart thuds loudly in your chest.

“Even my high self knows about it.” He side glances at you, while you're left pondering what he meant, he takes the bowl of ice cream from your hands. “My turn to feed you, lovie.”

“Hobie,” your eyes shimmers under the cinnamon smelling candle light, you hug his middle with a shaking arm. “What do you mean?”

He makes a face, shrugging while a bright smile spreads across his face. “Nothin', love.”

You laugh giddily, waking up Crumpet from her nap. “Okay then—wait, you're fucking with me aren't you?” Narrowing your eyes, you shut your mouth as he tries to feed you a scoop.

“Open up,” Hobie holds the spoon up for you, winking as you gaze at him softly. You still don't open your mouth, so with a glint in his eyes, he leans close to you, smashing his lips to yours, tasting the coconut on your lips while you laugh against his lips as the kiss turns from a playful one to a gentle, loving kiss.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @/mushroom-graphics-allotment

[settingthetablewithwords]

I guess I feel lost. What’s next? I don’t know. What’s happening now? I don’t know. How much more different should my life look in the future? What do I want out of life? Am I headed toward my aspirations? Should I be? I don’t know. I think I can feel a change in my life approaching. I can see a fork in the road, and both paths scare me. No, it isn’t a fork in the road. The options are to stay where I am or to keep going forward. There is only one path. I didn’t see it before, and I am seeing it now. It is extremely unfamiliar. Almost every corner of my body says that the path is not meant for me. But I know that isn’t true. So why does happiness and success and greatness and fulfillment and growth sound so God awful? Why does it bring an ache into my chest? Why does the thought of going forward hurt? Why does the path of light seem like despair?

The black sludge within me. It takes many forms, and right now it feels like it is a hand gripped around my throat from behind. It pulls me back. It does not want to go into light. It wants to stay here. If I break free and go forward, it promises that it will find me and drag me back. The further forward I go, the more it will drag me until I am back in this very spot. It will hurt less to just stay here, it says. I am scared. I have known this blackness much longer than I have known light. It feels like it is part of me. It is deep within me— an infection in a tooth, in need of a root canal. I have tried running away from this black sludge, but then it becomes my shoes. I have tried destroying it, but then it becomes the hammer. I have tried to reason with it, but then it becomes my mind. When I try to take a new path, it becomes the ground that I walk on. What the fuck is in my past that has created this venom inside of me? How the fuck do I get rid of it? I want to be rid of it. I want to be free to walk forward. I am on a dark leash.

“Happiness is not meant for you,

You are doomed.

You are broken!

You are broken!

Nothing good, none of it is for you.

It is taken by those who walk in the light.

You are a shadow underneath them.

You cannot escape your fate.

You will not live a long, full life.

Any attempts to will be what kills you.”

Maybe I’m afraid that once I reach happiness or success or whatever, everything will light on fire. Someone will die or I will die. Something terrible will happen if I walk forward. The black sludge becomes a mirror that shows me my future and I do not want it. If I stay here, if I don’t walk toward my demise, then it won’t happen.

I know the sludge is wrong. I think. This sludge is half of me, possibly almost all of me. I do not know who I am without it. It is hard to make decisions without my own dark mind. I think the light burns the sludge. I think the passion and hope sets it on fire. And I think it hurts me because I am the sludge. If I am the sludge, and I need to kill the sludge to be free of this burden, then there is no future for me. Destroying my enemy will destroy me because we are one. I was made this way, or this is how I was to be. This sludge should be killable. I know that. I hope there is another me inside all of it that will survive so she can step into the light.

[gyubby99]

@disneyanddisneyships after u're done with the firt post I raise you..

Alaponi wedding headcanons (except theres a lot going on)

To start this off Niffy and Becca would voluntarily be the flower girls

Tiny imp band performance

Via is like an introvert in an extroverted level party

Stolas would get Via far away from Chaz 😭😭

Cordelia gets fucked up at the party drinks ik she would

Stolas: Do you have apple juice for my daughter :D

Aponi, Angel, Verosika and Bee singing together

Alaponi duet song as they dance

Linda is blacklisted

Alastor showers for the first time

Husker is the best man as I've already said.

Maid of honor = Mal. (Since she'd be an angelica schuyler of some sort lol)

Stolas would be more overdressed than Aponi for blitz, only for them to have a one second eye contact with each other for the rest of the night.

Bee is the party host <3

Vaggie: If you hurt her, just know I always have my spear with me.

Angel eats most of the pasta at the venue

They had pizza with pineapple in them for Alastor.

Aponi was so happy she couldn't stop crying :')

Vox and Husker competing for who has the most embarrassing stories of Alastor in the speech (Vox would do anything for the spotlight)

Au where Judith is already there before they got married, so Judith is definitely one of the flower girls as well.

Bee made like a flower confetti for when they finally kiss

The royals make a speech for Aponi

Lucifer dances with Aponi as she would have danced with Charles. My heart is aching.

Alastor: Husker.. are you crying?

Husker, wiping his tears: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

Alastor would complain to Aponi about how they "did things" to him. (They bathed him)

Chaz would tear it up on the dance floor tbh. A dork. (Who sa'd moxxie)

Beef with Striker, Stolas and Furcalor, but Aella has it under control (I think)

Clark as a fucking flower boy oh my god thats so beautiful

In the au where Judith is at the wedding, Alastor and Aponi danced with her :')

Al's vows were so poetic blitz had to pull out a dictionary

Lucifer walked Aponi down the aisle

Charlie wedded them

I'd like to think M&M were there as well

Lucifer made the "I'm watching you" finger move to Alastor

Mal wanted so bad to catch the boquet. In an au where she did, everyone looked at Vox while she kept saying "I got it!!"

Velvette was just there for the food and gossip about how Verosika and Blitz are in the same room

Aella would pull striker in the dance floor

Aella: wishin' you the best, 'Poni! Marriage can be a bitch

Stella is also blacklisted.

Bee and Charlie interaction.

If Aella catches the bouquet I think Striker would just be like O_O

Aella: *gives Striker 'the look' after catching*

Verosika and Blitz beef

Becca would wanna join the others in catching the boquet and blitz was livid

Chaos ensues.

Roxxie would, 1. Perform for Aponi, and 2. Shit on blitz

Imagine an au where Loona caught it.

Bee and Blitz meeting again

Oh my gosh lilith would also be there. The mother of all demons. THE mother. Aponi what are you on I want it-

Striker sang but furcalor yelled "GET OFF THE STAGE"

Valentino came to the party and everyone booed to him. He scoffs and walks away mean girl style.

Vox convinces mal to let valentino in and promises to keep a close eye on him.

Valentino got bored and left again.

Chaggie slow dance 💞💓💖💝💘💕💗😭💗😭😭😭💕😭😭💕😭💕😭😭

Vox one time at the party became in charge with the music and Alastor was seething behind his smile.

I think Mal would also fight tooth and nail for that bouquet

Alaponi got married in October (iykyk)

Mimzy was there too ‼‼

Almost everyone gets drunk (bee is the host duh)

Yk his fangirls at the colony? They were strangely overjoyed

Vaggie would point a spear at chaz somewhat.. i can feel it.

Why do i feel like stolas would wipe his tears saying "oh, how delightful!"

There's alcoholic then non-alcoholic beelzejuice

APONI BEING MRS. LILIAN HARTFELT ‼‼‼💕💞💓💖💝💘

Angel Dust cried and almost couldn't stop hugging Aponi

Carolyn and Alistar were dancing together :')

Alistar and Moxxie meeting

Carolyn and Stolas meeting !!!!

Stolas: Can the spider one there be a little less vulgar? My daughter's here :)

Via: dad I'm 17

OMG THE SHEEP DEMON WOULD BE THERE 😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💞💓💖💝💘💗 the one alastor saved from the butcher in the comics omg shes definitely invited they definitely saw each other again

Mallory full on fucking sobs out loud the venue would be so akward

[bibliocratic]

litany An exploration on endings. Or: all the ways it could have gone wrong and right.

jonmartin, spoilers for 200, content warnings in the tags

--

This is not what she thought victory would feel like.

Basira’s fingers tense and smart with overexerted aching when she stops to stretch them out. There is a geography of broken blood-vessels under the bruising that lies puddle-splotched over her hands which scrabble and claw talon-bent at the rubble. They are scored with scratches and tears where her exposed and dust-ruined skin has snagged on fractured brickwork.

She uncovers a foot first, as she pushes up and over the twisted mental of a window frame with an exhausted clatter. A trainer, the white doused with mud, the trailing laces caked stiff and russet. More heaving and hauling, her breath purging from her faster now – maybe, maybe, maybe, but she has lived too long now to believe in miracles. Overturning a fire-blasted section of what could have been once part of the imperious and grand stone stairwell, she reveals the leg the trainer is attached to, pulverised and off-angled by the weight of the collapse, the fabric of it drenched in soot. She peels back a cascade of plasterboard with a grunt, and there is a twisted pelvis, shattered ribs caved in under an acrid-smelling jumper. She’s not surprised at the dull punch of revelation, when she digs out hunched shoulders, coils of hair turned grey-white like swans’ down with the dust.

Martin is obviously dead. She hopes it was quick, fears it was not. His body lying stringless is curved around something, clutching it to him with his bruised and broken fingers. It takes many minutes of labouring, her spine seizing with complaint, sweat pooling at her brow and under her arms, but eventually she reveals Martin’s tender quarry, bundled up against his chest, blood-soaked from a wound long congealed. His own long and bloody fingers clenched and moored into the weft of Martin’s jumper.

She doesn’t need to check his pulse. She is cursed with enough sentiment to do so anyway. Crouching for a moment in the thick of the settling devastation, the fug of dust coating her nostrils, before she murmurs ‘I’m sorry’.

As she stands, she takes off her coat to lay it over them respectfully, the only shroud she can offer.

When her voice is composed, its cracks flattened out, she shouts the others over to tell them to stop searching.

--

The knife does not go in easily. There is force behind its thrust, a manic wave-shock of hysteric intent, and Jon’s lips part in a gasp as skin and sinew and flesh split. The noise wrenched from Martin is soiled with ruin, tremulous and saw-toothed, and he will never be able to forgive himself.

Jon’s eyes close. Peace of a sort granted to Magnus’ last and most beleaguered of Archivists.

And then they open. All of them, like the unfolding back of petals during blossoming, a meadow’s expanse of sight flowering on his face.

“No,” Martin whispers, the refusal almost lost over the tumult of the building around them. He pulls the knife out, and it drips onto the floor, making damp the material of his trousers. “No, nononononono.”

The wound presses together like lips, and then it is gone.

“I think it’s too late for that, Martin,” the Archivist says in that calm and reasoned voice of his.

--

It is a surreal, poorly-rendered mirror of before. A way the record of the world has slipped, juddered aground in a repeat. For all they have both changed, outgrown the casings of the people they were, for all they have endured both together and apart, it is a sick homecoming of sorts to stand again a second time round at the entrance to his hospital ward.

She’s brought supermarket flowers bunched in plastic, the last of a bad crop and too late to get the freshest, the stalks of baby’s breath drooping, the petals on the carnations mottled slightly and past their glory days. Jon lies submerged in sleep, the focal point in a placid storm of machines and wires. This coma chemically induced with no inkling of the supernatural, a last-ditch effort by the doctors to reduce the swelling on his brain. To give the body a chance to heal from the damage sustained during the collapse, his frame bludgeoned and punctured like a shrike-caught mouse, the smoke that has snarled like brambles in his lungs. The almost comically neat wound punched into his chest, nicking his heart.

She hopes his sleep is dreamless.

It takes him weeks to wake up.

“… Georgie?” he finally gasps out on an otherwise uneventful Thursday. His vocals are ribbed and scored with smoke damage. He’s sluggish as he blinks and turns and groans at the complaint of his body around him. “What – er?”

“Hey Jon,” she replies. “Good to have you back with us.”

She lets him acclimatise. Without his glasses, he squints and peers owlishly, like an inquisitive bird, absorbed by the novelty of his environment, the mundanity; the hospital-blue curtain that’s been pulled back around his bed, missing a few rungs and so hanging lopsided in places. The wilting flowers on the side table. The IV needles threaded into his arms.

“Did it work?” he asks finally.

“We think so.”

Georgie doesn’t add more. The conversation is one she knew they’d have, but it still feels like stepping out on frozen water. She is waiting for it to give beneath him, for the drop and drown in the unmoored cold.

His relief muddies in increments. His brow crinkling with a frown, glancing around again at the other beds. Their occupants dredged up and out and recovering from their private terrors, bringing the lessons of their landscape with them.

“Where - ?”

He looks up at her. The ice cracking.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Jon,” she says.

--

“We made it. L-look, see, we’re – I don’t know where we are exactly, b-but that doesn’t matter, does it, because we’re together, yeah? We’re together and that’s… that’s what we promised.”

The blood is drying on his trembling fingertips, the crevices of his palm, and it flakes off like decaying leaf-fall. The front of his clothes is clogged and sodden, the slick slow to harden. The weight in his arms is making his shoulders scream but he can’t let go.

“We – we did it,” he repeats hollowly. Desperately. “We did it, s-so you can come back now. You can come back. Together, you promised.”

The winds of this new world blow as cold as the old one did, and it is Martin’s only reply.

--

“It’s for the best, Martin,” the Archivist says.

“Shut up,” his furious watcher snarls. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t play st – Like him! Like he would! Using his voice.”

“It’s my voice. It’s me, Martin.”

Martin doesn’t respond to that. Their arguments are cyclical as roundabouts. He tells Martin he loves him. Martin tells him to fuck off.

The place where Jonah Magnus met his End, crumpled up on the dais of the Panopticon, has been cleared of blood. It distressed Martin to look upon, as evidence of his ascension rather than his capacity for brutality, so the servitors saw to its removal. The body he gifted to the mulch of the bone gardens, and the wailing growths flourished beautifully with the nutrients it bore.

The screams beyond the walls of the Panopticon cut off faster as he hastens them towards the End. He observes a world in its twilight. There is still torment, and it is unendurable and unfair but it will end under his reign, for good and for ever, and he will ensure that there is no more.

“You don’t have to stay,” the Archivist says. Considered. Gentle. “I know… seeing me like this is not what you wanted. I want us to be together while it ends, but I won’t force you.”

“And how is it any better out there?”

“It’s not,” he admits. “Here, I can keep you safe. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy.”

“Well, you fucked up there then,” Martin snaps.

His anger is righteous and flint-spark, makes barriers that almost waylay his grieving. He looks at him, and for a moment, his gaze shakes. He will see nothing less than he expects to see, a man, unkempt from travel, a bit grubby. Coarse hands he has held, lines he has attempted to smooth. In many ways, this makes it worse.

Martin turns away, and the Archivist lets him go.

He needs time and they have more than enough of it now.

--

He is inconsolable when they dig them out. A horrible, anguished keening like he’s being struck, a gasping that violently gags and stoppers in his chest. His face twisted, blotching, his eyes swollen, and the picture he makes is ugly, rent-open, decimated, bawling into the body he’s crushed up against him. Rag-doll limbed. Ashen.

They can’t make him let go. His cries transform and degrade into wails, garbled wordless, the horizon of language lost. They aren’t even sure if he knows they’re there. The sound pouring out of him is frenzied, delirious and anguished by surviving the unsurvivable alone. He fades hoarse through the ruin he has made of his throat and then he just weeps into Jon’s chest, and still he will not let go.

Melanie’s the one that stops him using the knife the first time. Wrestling it from his grip more out of surprise than shock at Georgie’s shout, and her anger is poisoned with her panic, throwing it to one side and hearing it clatter, snarling that I’m not going to fucking bury both of you, you hear me, don’t even think about it, fuck you, you think this is what he would have wanted, you think we want to lose you too?

Martin doesn’t reply.

They are not fast enough to stop him the second time he tries.

--

There are two men, strangers to these parts, who moved into the village from elsewhere like seeds caught on breeze. They plant their roots in uneasy soil. They talk to no one, versed in polite but guarded pleasantries, their greeting smiles to-the-point and weathered like coastal walls to withstand even the most inquisitive of questioners.

The one who is tall has the pared-down appearance of someone who has lost a lot of weight through some wasting that gnaws upon him. A gauntness that accentuates the furrows and gulleys and crags of his face, worsens the snow-stark white of his hair. The one who is short has been formed naturally sharp in features, although the brown of his eyes is mellow, prone to distance and otherwise unremarkable. The rumour mill, that tumbles in cycles of chatter that rolls from suspicious to musing, supposes some great and devastating fire to account for the injuries on his hands and the exposed skin of his face and neck, the pocked divots like scattered spark burns, ragged scars from shrapnel of some kind.

The one who is short limps on a sturdy walking stick, fashioned from an oak branch divorced from its tree in a storm. Any travel ventured upon is slow and demonstrably an effort. His free hand clasped in the hand of the one who is tall, who decks himself in layers even in the mildest of weathers, whose eyes are biting as hailstones, awashed grey and framed with bruising as though his dreams are rarely kind.

They re-painted the outer walls of their house last summer, when the temperature wallowed sticky and dense and glorious. The tree in their garden has fruited its first pears, few and stunted but a start that promises better crops come next year.

There is the hope that the strangers are happy.

If they are, it remains nobody’s business but their own.

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!)

feat. Tsukkishima Kei 

requested for by @animestheticz (hope you enjoy it bb!) 

Previously:

Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro.

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 2k

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Tsukkishima / Reader

A/N: Any other characters you’d like to see? Send me an ask! 

(happy to do any characters other than Kenma / Hinata / Tendo - I don’t trust myself to do them justice!)

Oh and this is just shameless advertisement for my other fic - but I’m also writing a multi chapter fic based off Your Name / Kimi No Nawa featuring Akaashi Keiji (i.e. a bodyswap AU featuring our favourite Tokyo pretty boy). Check it out here!

——————————————————————

“P-please? Just this once?’ Yachi begs, fingers gripping your sleeve like a vice. 

You’re sorely tempted to refuse her ridiculous request, but you can’t bring yourself to. This is Yachi Hitoka, your best friend, though currently she’s a nervous wreck fretting over her first date with Yamaguchi Tadashi. The sweet, freckled Hufflepuff chaser has finally worked up the courage to act on his painfully obvious crush on Yachi - both veritable balls of sunshine, so sweet and anxious and caring that you can’t imagine a better match. 

So you don’t understand why on earth you’re being asked to tag along on a double date with one Tsukkishima Kei. 

It’s not that you dislike the guy – far from it. You’ve had a crush on him yourself ever since Yachi started hanging around Yamaguchi in your third year, sucking you and Tsukkishima have been sucked into their orbit, reluctant moons revolving around twin suns. But you’ve tucked it away since Tsukkishima doesn’t seem to have an interest in anyone at all – in fact, half the time his snarky replies and cold silences make you think he barely tolerates Yamaguchi as a friend, let alone yourself. 

Still, refusing Yachi is tantamount to kicking an injured puppy, so you swallow your reservations and agree. 

‘Thank you!’ Yachi cheers. ‘We’ll have fun, I promise!’ 

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

It’s summer, and your blouse is sticking to your back as you dash through Diagon Alley. Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi are already waiting in front of Flourish & Botts, the former barely even granting you a nod, though he does give you the courtesy of removing his headphones, while Yamaguchi bounces on the balls of his feet to greet you cheerfully. 

‘Woah there Yamaguchi – keep your enthusiasm for your date’, you joke, and he grins back at you.  And he does – stuttering and blushing as Yachi arrives. Yachi herself is no better – you swear you can hear her teeth chatter as she greets all of you, though she beams when Yamaguchi presents her with a small posy of flowers with clammy hands. 

‘They’re cute’, you remark to Tsukkishima as you walk beside him on the way to the first stop -  Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. 

‘Mm’, he responds, his face blank. 

You know he doesn’t suffer fools – worse still, talkative ones, so you fall silent until you reach the ice cream store. To your surprise, he pulls the chair out for you, and accepts your offer to share a cup of ice cream with you, a tilt to his lips when you automatically order a strawberry shortcake sundae – it’s his favourite after all. 

Yachi and Yamaguchi seem to have gotten over their initial shyness, chatting up a storm in their own little world. You’re excluded, as you expected, but you’re glad for their sakes. 

‘Excited about the last year of school?’ 

You glance up from your melting sundae, surprised that Tsukkishima is the first to break and initiate a conversation. From your interactions with him, he’s deliberate and methodical in his thoughts and words, so you take a few beats to formulate a response. 

‘Yes and no, really’, you answer honestly. 

He raises a thin blonde eyebrow, wordlessly beckoning you to elaborate. 

‘I’m excited for our classes, the syllabus seems really interesting this year’, you say, wincing at how desperately nerdy you sound – but you’re a hopeless Ravenclaw, and advanced Arithmancy and Astronomy excites you. ‘But it’s scary isn’t it – knowing that it’s our last year, and having to make all those important decisions that are going to affect us, years down the road?’ 

He hums thoughtfully. ‘I get that’, he responds, hands steepled under his chin. ‘I’m deciding between doing further studies in magical history and going pro – just for a few more years. But I know no matter what decision I end up making, I’ll probably end up second guessing myself’. 

‘Why can’t you do both?’ you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself. His brow furrows a notch. ‘You’re great at both, and I can’t see why you can’t as long as you put your mind to it’. 

You cringe at your cheesiness, expecting him to snark at you for your Hufflepuff-like optimism the way he does with Yamaguchi, but you’re surprised once again when he mutters a quiet ‘thanks’, a flush high in his cheeks, and then asks -  ‘And what about you?’ 

You wonder if he’s merely being polite, but his tone is serious, and his eyes are intently focused on you, so you tell him about your plans of taking on further studies in Arithmancy, perhaps even enroll in a Muggle university to study Mathematics for a semester or two, before working in Gringotts. The goblins may be archaic in their beliefs about the magical world, but their application of mathematics is extremely advanced. 

‘It suits you’, he comments. You want to ask him what he means by that, but Yachi pipes up from across the table.  

‘If you’re done with your ice cream, do you guys want to check out the magical menagerie? Yamaguchi’s going to get a cat!’ 

Before you can agree, Tsukkishima tells Yachi and Yamaguchi to go on ahead, drolly reminding them that they’re on a date, and they should go spend some quality time together. So they head off with wide smiles, shoulders bumping. They’re so sweet together it almost makes your teeth ache. Well, at least you’ve been dismissed as their reluctant chaperone, and you’re about to wish Tsukkishima a polite farewell when he taps your shoulder. 

‘Let’s go check out Flourish & Botts. I’m sure you have books you want to check out’. 

You blink – because you do, but you don’t expect Tsukkishima to accompany you, let alone be the one seeking out your company. He doesn’t even wait for your assent before he sets off, and you have to jog to keep up with the pace his long legs set. Thankfully, he notices you’re still lagging behind and slows down, though he teases dryly – ‘you know, at the rate you’re walking, I’m not sure we’ll get there before sundown’. 

You pointedly look up at the sun, still high in the sky, before levelling an unimpressed glare at him. He only smirks in response – and you’re so flustered by how attractive his expression is that you nearly trip over the threshold to Flourish & Botts. He catches you with a steady hand to your elbow – and now your heart is fluttering – is this how Yachi is like all the time? If so, you should really cut her some slack – the thoughts crowding your mind so distracting that you hardly hear Tsukkishima call your name in concern until he shakes your shoulder gently. 

‘Are you alright?’ Tsukkishima repeats, with a frown. 

‘Y-yes’, you reply, cursing your traitorous heart again. He doesn’t look like he believes you, insistently pushing you towards an empty couch. 

He clicks his tongue. ‘Don’t move’ he orders, before he disappears, probably to get the books he has his eyes on.  

You sink into the cushions, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands in embarrassment. An hour spent in his presence and you’ve already turned back into a lovesick fool. You’ve told yourself countless times to just get over your silly crush on him already because it’s not going to do you any good. 

Yamaguchi’s complained to you and Yachi countless times about girls asking him if Tsukkishima is single, but you don’t see him taking an interest in anyone at all – spending all his time instead in the library and on the Quidditch pitch. 

He’s the stone faced beater from Ravenclaw. People wonder sometimes if ice flows in his veins – but they don’t see the determined set of his jaw when he’s ploughing through homework and assignments because he knows he’s going to have to spend the whole day in training the next day, the glint of satisfaction in his eyes whenever he wins a match or scores a good grade, the patience he expends tutoring Yamaguchi (along with Hinata and Kageyama) in Ancient Runes – 

Oh Merlin. You’re a hopeless case. 

 You jump when he returns and drops into a seat beside you. 

‘Oi, what’s wrong with you’, he mutters a tad scornfully, though he drops the book you were eyeing onto your lap. 

‘N-nothing. T-thanks!’ you answer, internally cursing yourself for even picking up Yachi’s speech patterns. 

Get it together. You’re not a fool. 

He hums, browsing his own book. 

It’s pleasant spending an afternoon in a nook reading books. It’s not so pleasant when your heart palpitates every single time his knee grazes yours - and if you shift just a tiny bit to the left you’re pressing against his side and - oh 

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’ he asks, frowning again, when he notices you’ve been reading the same page for the past fifteen minutes. 

‘F-fine’, you stammer, warmth flooding your cheeks when he leans his face dangerously close to yours, bringing his palm to brush against your forehead. 

‘Your temperature’s fine’, he mutters, but he doesn’t pull away – and oh gosh, you’re so close you can count every single lash on his eyes, your traitorous heart causing you to drown in the quiet concern in his eyes – and oh - 

You’re not quite sure who makes the first move because your eyes flutter close, your nose bumps against his and you feel his chapped lips against yours for a split second before he pulls away. 

You open your eyes. 

Did that truly happen? 

Judging from the blank expression on his face, the past few seconds were probably just a fever dream. But there are signs that cool, quiet Tsukkishima isn’t his usual self - a flush creeping up the back of his neck, his fingers gripping the pages of the book so tightly it starts to crinkle.  

‘What was that?’ you blurt out, confused. 

‘What was what?’ Though his voice remains calm and collected, his flush has traveled all the way to the very tips of his ears. 

‘Nothing’, you answer, dropping your eyes back to the open book on your lap, your mind in a whirl. Surely you didn’t imagine that, right? Did you just - did he just - wait, you’re confused again, what’s going on? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by elegant, long fingers slotting between your own. ‘Silly’ he mutters, but there’s a fond twist to his lips and a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

‘I’m pretty sure I’m not the only silly one here’, you respond, in a sudden swell of confidence, though your pulse is sending tremors down your spine, your breath catching in your throat. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the silly one too’. You curl your fingers over his and lean into his side. 

He hums diffidently. ‘I guess it might seem that way’. 

You both share a shy smile. 

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

Yachi is smug when you confess to her later that Tsukkishima - no - Kei asked you out as he walked you home that evening. 

‘I told you that we’d have fun!’, she says, grinning cheek to cheek. Then she starts rambling on and on about future double dates with her and Yamaguchi in Madame Puddifoots, where you can share couple sundaes and steaming mugs of hot chocolate - wouldn’t that be wonderful? 

You resist the urge to tell her that Kei has sworn off any future double dates - let alone at the white and pink lace bedazzled monstrosity of a cafe, and his suggestion of a quiet afternoon spent at his favourite bookshop cafe sounds far more inviting to you. 

You’ll let Yamaguchi break the news to her later, on a more appropriate date.  

Instead you just smile to yourself, thinking of the quiet affection in his voice as he wished you farewell, and the suppressed delight in his eyes when you called his name just as he was about to turn away and surprised him by pulling him down to you and pressing your lips to his cheek. 

Yachi’s right. You did have fun after all. 

[tpwkjerii]

feverish

you’re starting to come down with a serious case of the flu and, much to the dismay of your doctor boyfriend, you refuse to admit it. luckily, dr. lee minho (and his three cats) is more than ready to help.

pairing: doctor!minho x reader

warnings: ‘baby’ as a pet name, sickness, like one cuss word

genre: established relationship au, doctor au, tooth-aching fluff

word count: 1.6k+

a/n: minho in a doctor’s coat. that’s it.

“You look terrible.”

Those are the lovely words you hear upon the arrival of your boyfriend as he enters your shared apartment after a long day at the hospital. You turn, hoodie secure on your head and just poking out in the corner of your vision, and glare at him while he takes off his shoes and sets down his black messenger bag.

“Gee, thanks for the compliment,” you mutter, your voice hoarse like you smoked several packs of cigarettes a day for years (or like you’d been coughing the entire day, which you have).

“I’m just saying,” he says lightly as he slips off his white coat and places it onto the coat rack. “Are you sick?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shake your head and push him away as he approaches your spot on the couch. “No, I’m fine.”

He ignores you and gently presses the back of his hand to your forehead, wincing as his cool hands meet your burning hot skin. “Wow, you’re definitely fine,” he mumbles sarcastically. He rolls his eyes when you push him away again.

“I have to finish this report,” you insist, reaching towards your side for your laptop that slipped away from your lap when you shoved Minho. “And I feel perfectly healthy,” you add as an afterthought. Unfortunately for you, right after you say that, you’re met with the familiar feeling of violent coughs building up in your chest.

Minho stares at you skeptically, watching as your face grows red and eyes widen from holding your breath to hold back your coughs. You pray that he leaves the room for his usual shower after work or that he just turns away, but it’s a lot easier for him to look at you than it is for you to hold your breath. After a good forty seconds, you breathe out heavily and cringe as heavy coughs shake your body.

You push your computer off your lap onto the couch and angle your head down as you cough loudly. Minho sighs and gently pats your back until the coughs stop and you’re able to rest your back onto the couch cushions comfortably.

He stands, stating, “The report can wait until you’re feeling better.” You watch breathlessly as he pours you a cup of water from the kettle in your small kitchen. He hisses as he turns the corner and hits the dining table, internally cursing at the cramped space. The larger (but still cozy) home he found was still bookmarked on his work computer, and he actually wanted to tell you about it tonight. But seeing your current state made him decide to wait until you felt better — you would need energy to keep up with the various spreadsheets and documents filled with pros, cons, and budgets that Chan and Jisung helped him create.

You mumble a small thanks while he hands you the warm mug, adding quickly, “My boss will kill me if I don’t hand this report in by Friday.”

He sighs and sits down next to you, pulling you down to lean against his side as his arms wrapped around your upper chest. “You’ve been working nonstop the past three weeks, you obviously have a fever, a cough, and a sore throat, and I won’t be surprised if your body will start aching and your head hurts later tonight.”

“Gee, what are you, a doctor?” you crack jokingly, but it seems that Minho is in no mood to joke as he deadpans, “Yes.”

You sigh and set your mug down onto the glass coffee table in front of the couch. “Look, I know you’re worried, but I really need to impress Dr. Kang if I want that promotion,” you start, pausing briefly to look up into his warm eyes. “I know you want to move out of this tiny place -” you gesture around the small apartment you’d shared ever since his med school days “- and the promotion can really help us out with that.”

Minho curses under his breath. “I’ll be making more after one more year, I prom-”

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “I don’t care about how much you make, Minho, you know that. It’ll be nice in the future, of course, but I don’t mind working harder now so we can move into a bigger place and get our life going.” It’s a lot to say at once, and you suppress another fit of violent coughs as you reach over to sip your water.

While Minho’s heart grows with adoration, his forehead creases in frustration. “Baby, you’re obviously sick. I wouldn’t be a good doctor or boyfriend if I let you continue to work like this,” he states firmly.

“But I -”

“You’re not fine,” he persists sharply, and you shy away at the firm look on his face. “Now give me your laptop,” he demands.

You sigh and hand him your open laptop, which was slightly warm as it ran the many open tabs and a long working document of your report. “You’ll write my report for me?” you ask sarcastically as he places your computer on his lap.

He hums and it only takes a five-second scan over the many paragraphs of your writing, filled with various statistics and phrases he didn’t even understand, for him to shake his head with a firm “Absolutely not.”

You laugh with him (which was really you just exhaling heavily so you didn’t cough again). “Thought so.”

You watch as he opens another tab and logs into his own email. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he explains, “I’m gonna write Dr. Kang an email to give you an extension. I know she loves me.”

You roll your eyes, reading the text that his fast typing produces.

Good Evening, Dr. Kang!

This is Dr. Lee Minho, Y/N’s boyfriend — we met at the Christmas party last year! I’m writing this email to let you know that Y/N has come down with a rather severe illness. Don’t worry, I’ll be treating her from home and ensure she makes a full recovery. I know she has a report due in two days, but as a doctor I insist she recovers and rests before she works on completing it again. I ask that you give her an extension of a few days so she does not strain herself and worsen her condition. I’m confident that Y/N will be able to finish soon after her recovery. If you have any questions please email me or feel free to drop by the hospital.

Kindly,

Dr. Lee Minho

“You know that she’s going to drop by and use this as an excuse to see you,” you mutter as you lean back and to the side on the couch, your eyelids drooping in exhaustion and (just like your doctor boyfriend predicted) your body starting to ache.

“I know,” Minho responds with a shrug, already moving off the couch to give you space to comfortably stretch out your legs.

“Because she’s basically in love with you — you handsome, young doctor, you,” you continue, your words slurred together and barely coherent. A smile graces your face as you feel your boyfriend slide a soft pillow under your head and a blanket over your body, which you didn’t even notice was shaking. Your smile grows as you feel a sudden weight and purring on your chest — one of the cats must have finally woken up.

“Baby, your sentences aren’t even making sense now.” Minho’s soft voice has recognizable fondness laced in it, and you don’t need to open your eyes to know that he’s probably looking down at you and either Soonie, Doongie, or Dori (you would open your eyes to check but they just feel so heavy) tenderly.

You don’t have the strength in you to respond to his remark, but the recognizable ping of an incoming email brings you to ask, “That her?”

“Yeah, I’ll read what she said.” He clears his voice dramatically and raises his voice to a higher pitch, imitating the nasally voice of your middle-aged boss.

Hello Doctor!

Thank you so much for letting me know! Of course Y/N can have an extension! Tell her not to worry about turning it in until next week Friday and please wish her a speedy recovery from me. You’re such a sweetheart to take care of Y/N and let me know on her behalf.

I’ll be taking that offer of visiting you tomorrow so I can write an official report for Y/N’s leave of absence with a doctor’s note. I promise not to take too much of your time, Doctor! Take care!

Warmly,

Dr. Kang

You scoff. “That’s bullshit. Employees on sick leave can just call in and take their time off with no doctor’s note.”

Minho laughs and leans down to kiss your forehead once, twice, and again. “Just sleep, baby,” he whispers as he caresses your head lovingly. You love this side of Minho — as cool as he may seem on the outside, everyone knows that he’s secretly a softie. It’s easy to doze off with his hand massaging the top of your head soothingly and the cats (yes, the other two joined in the group effort to heal you) purring on top of your chest.

Within a few minutes, you knock out. And right when you wake up, Minho (and Soonie, Doongie, and Dori) is right at your side with everything you needed, from pain medications to a warm cup of soup. Even as violent coughs continue to disrupt your sleep throughout the night, you feel incredibly happy and fortunate to have Minho at your side. While you don’t have much (material wise) for now, your small family is already more than enough.

a/n: sorry this is a bit late, finals are kicking my ass lskmfdls but i have a bunch of  upcoming releases planned so :’)) I hope you guys liked this shorter one & pls leave notes/comments as they help me improve !!

[aubreyprc]

all through the night

‘all through the night

i’ll be awake

and i’ll be with you’

summary - hotch is in a building hit by a dirty bomb and gets radiation poisoning. (established hotchniss - season 4 anthrax episode re write but i just?? make it worse. (for @ssa-m-187 bc ? she badgered me about this for ??? eight days straight✋🏻 also she is 21 now everyone say happy birthday)

ao3

The word bomb echo's through the building and there’s three seconds before it goes off. Three seconds in which Hotch grabs Emily, pushing the both of them behind a wall, holding her to his chest as he does his best to cover her from the impending blast, only able to watch the other members of his team scatter behind other forms of what they hope will be shields, in the corner of his eye he can see Morgan grab Reid, pull the younger man into his chest in a similar way as he is shielding Emily, head pressed into his shoulders, hand on the back of his head and in another situation he would probably question it, but he hears the click of something in the distance and holds Emily tighter, pressing her face further into his neck as they grip onto each other, her arms resting around his waist.

Closing his eyes, he feels the building shake around them, the sound of bricks falling on the other side of them sounding louder as it echos into their ears. The ringing sound that follows is unpleasant, but not unwelcome, because it’s a sound that they’re okay. That they made it.

Right?

“Are you okay?” he asks as the ringing in their ears almost knocks them to the floor. He cups her cheeks, forcing her to look at him as her legs give out underneath her, the unbalance of her hearing knocking her sense of gravity off course and he follows her to the floor, terror rising in his chest as she stares at him, squinting her eyes as pain rushes through her head, coughing slightly as dust hits her chest and lungs.

“Emily,” he says as best he can, his own voice sounding like an echo in his own ears. “sweetheart, can you hear me?” he asks her, complete horror coming down on him as he realises that she could have hearing damage, could have —

“What happened?” she asks, reaching out to grab him as they both rush to their feet, the shouts of the team and other people in the building registering at a louder frequency as the ringing silences.

“A bomb.” he tells her, “are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m— I’m okay.” she nods, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together as they stand and he smiles, running his thumb across her cheek before Morgan’s voice is hitting their ears.

“We have to get our of here.” he tells the, coming up to the side of them and reaching out to grab Emily’s arm, rushing the two of them from the building. Hotch squeezes Emily’s hand when she turns to face him, smiling softly at her as an indication that they’re okay and she smiles back.

As soon as they’re outside they all take large breaths, Emily’s hand sliding from his as she coughs, the fresh air forcing her lungs to recoil. He runs a hand down her back before walking towards the bomb squad, a million questions on his mind and he’s half way there when a scream hits everyone’s ears and renders them frozen, before they all turn back to the building.

“What was that?” Emily asks as Hotch makes his way back to her, everyone’s eyes on the building. “Who else was in there?”

“Did we ever find out if this was where he was hiding the girl?” Morgan asks, staring back to the team. “We barley had time to even look around before the bomb was activated. She could have been in there.”

“You think that scream was her?” Emily asks, rubbing a hand over her sore chest.

“I think it’s a possibility.” he tells her and she sighs.

“I’ll go back in.” Aaron says and all eyes snap to him.

“What?” Emily asks, “Are you insane?”

“The chance of another bomb going off now is unlikely—”

“But not impossible.” she argues back, “you’re not risking your life for a— a chance that someone is in there.”

“I don’t have a choice.” he tells her, “we all heard that scream, if we do nothing and it turns out she was in there and we could have saved her… would you ever be able to forgive yourself?” he asks the team, each member staying silent.

“You—” Emily tries to argue back, before turning her head to the team, staring at them until they catch on, and slowly walk out of ear shot. “You’re not going in there.”

“I have to—”

“No.” she tells him, “Have someone else to in. Someone from bomb squad. Someone—”

“You know I have to.” he says and she stops talking, looking to the floor as she crosses her arms over herself, looking up slightly when he places a finger under her chin. “I’ll be okay.”

“You can’t die.” she tells him, and he smiles while he nods.

“I won’t.” he assures her, “would it make you feel better if I promised?” he jokes and she rolls her eyes, a smirk growing on her face.

“Do you? Promise?” she questions as she looks at him and he stares back.

“I promise.” he whispers, and she nods, watching with complete terror as he follows a member of bomb squad back into the building.

“He’s going to be fine.” Morgan says, throwing an arm over her shoulder and kissing her temple. “He’s going to be fine.” he repeats, unsure of who he’s trying to convince as Hotch disappears out of eyesight.

She’s being seen by a medic, rolling her eyes at Morgan as he forces the oxygen mask back on her face while wearing his own, muttering something about how if Hotch was here he’d duck tape it to her face when there’s a shout from across the path, men in hazmat suits running towards the building and she swears in that moment she feels her heart stop.

“What—” she mumbles, standing and watching the suited men rush into the building, her heart now hammering against her chest as terror settles into her veins and she’s rushing over to the bomb squad before she even registers that she needs to move.

“What’s going on?” she asks them, her voice laced with fear and worry, her eyes burning into theirs.

“It was a dirty bomb.” he tells her regretfully, knowing full well who went back in, knowing full well who he was to her.

“A dirty—” she inhales, pressing a hand to her stomach as she tries to catch her breath, her heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of her chest.

“You all need to get tested for radiation poisoning but… we’re hopeful that you all got out quick enough for there to be no issues.”

“But what—” she shakes her head, nothing making sense, because this can not be happening. “What about everyone that went back in? How much exposure—” she doesn’t continue, the look in his eye all too familiar, one she’s seen before, one she gives to families when it’s bad news and all she can do is shake her head while she forces herself to try and breathe as her chest feels heavy, fear turning into horror, horror turning into something indescribable, a feeling she’s never felt before and it has her whole body aching with dread. She looks towards the building, can hear the shouts of his and another name she doesn’t recognise echo through the rubble and it has her running, a need to be in there, a need to find him, a need for him to be okay. She barley even knows she’s moving until there’s someone grabbing her waist, lifting her off her feet and turning her around, wrapping her into their arms.

“I can’t let you do that, princess.” Morgan whispers, fighting tooth and nail with her to keep her in his hold, “stop.” he tells her. “stop.” he says again, grabbing her tighter to the point where he knows it has to be hurting her, yet she wont give up, fighting his hold like her life depended on it and he's left with no choice but to let her go, only to grab her shoulders when she turns to move again and make her look at him. "Stop." he tells her again but this time his eyes burn into hers, and the fear that stares back at him almost makes him nauseous.

"Let me go." she tells him, trying to force herself from his hold but he's stronger than her. "Morgan, please." she pleads, "let me go."

"I can't do that." he tells her softly, "you know I can't."

She opens her mouth to speak, a plea on the tip of her tongue but it comes out as an exhale, a small cry at the end of it as she drops her head, covering her face with her hands as she takes deep breaths. She feels herself being pulled into his chest, his hand on the back of her head as he comforts her but its useless and they both know it. There isn't any comfort in a situation like this, how could there be?

He's brought out on a gurney a few moments later, the sound of shouts a few yards away catching her attention and she looks over before taking off in a run, at his side in moments as paramedics in full kits rush to his aid, she can see him looking at her, notices his hand reaching out for her and her heart aches as he grunts in pain, mumbling her name as she's pushed back by paramedics, explanations of how unsafe this is and that unfortunately you can't see him right now, he could have radiation poisoning hitting her ears but none of it registers as she pushes past them, latching his hand with hers as she smiles down at him, ignoring the protests of the paramedics as she follows them into the ambulance only to be stopped before she could get in.

"Agent. You really aren't allowed to be near him without proper—" he starts, but another interrupts.

"He's in a lot of pain, were going to have to knock him out." they explain and the other nods, before looking back at Emily.

"Just—" she starts, "let me sit with him and once he's out I'll go." she bargains and the man sighs. "I was in the building anyway, there a fifty percent chance I have it—"

"Fine." he gives in, and she thanks him before rushing in, sitting at Aaron's side and takes his hand in hers, smiling when he looks at her.

"Hey," he croaks out, "you're okay?"

"I'm okay." she smiles, holding back her tears as she runs a hand through his hair, pushing it from his forehead. "You're okay too." she says, nodding at the paramedic as he readies to put him out. "I love you." she whispers, and the smile on his face has her heart aching in her chest.

"I love you too." he repeats as he falls under, his hand going limp in hers and once his eyes close her head drops, silent cries leaving her body as she squeezes it.

"Agent Prentiss I can't stress this enough, I need you to step out—"

"I know." she sighs sadly, running her hand through his hair once more before existing, sending one last look his way as she watches the door's close.

"Come on." Morgan says, gently pushing her to get her moving, "we have to get to the hospital." she simply nods, lets him lead her to the SUV as her mind runs wild with different outcomes, the sound of the team talking seeming like background noise as she grabs the necklace from around her neck, staring at the ring hooked through it, feeling the future they had planned together slip through her fingers.

Eight Months Ago

She knows something is... off the moment she wakes up to an empty bed, her hand finding a sheet instead of a person. She frowns, looking at the vacant space next to her, she expects to maybe hear him in the shower, but the bedroom and the ensuite are.. silent, something it never is this early in the morning.

That off feeling doesn't fade, it instead increases when she makes her way through the house, stepping into the kitchen to find him turning quickly at the sound of her arrival and ending the call.

"Hey," he smiles, "you're up early." he tells her and she frowns, looking at the clock behind him.

"Its just past nine..." she says suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at him, "its our first day off this month, I expected you to be sleeping in."

"Couldn't sleep." he explains, "Coffee?" he asks and she nods, squinting her eyes at him as he moves around the kitchen; he walks over to her with the cup, smiling at her as he passes it over before catching her lips in his. "Good morning." he whispers against her lips and she smiles.

"Good morning." she whispers, smiling when he kisses her again before wrapping an arm around her waist. "care to share who was on the phone?" she teases, bringing the cup to her lip.

"I—" he begins, but his phone rings again and she smiles, watching through the top of the cup as he sighs, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Chief Strauss," he says and she rolls her eyes, "good morning." he adds but they already know what the conversation is going to be, something about a case, something about them being asked for by name, something that is going to rob them of their day off and so she heads out of the kitchen, sipping her coffee as she walks back into the bedroom.

He comes up behind her a few minuets later while she stands at the sink, wraps his arms around her with his head on her shoulder as they look at each other through the mirror, her head leaning sideways to rest on his.

"Where?" she questions.

"It's local. We can work it from the BAU." he tells her, "the rest of the team have been called as well."

"What's the case?" she asks and he stands, kissing her temple.

"I have no idea." he says, "local PD requested us." she nods, watching him disappear out of the bathroom muttering to himself and she smiles, biting her bottom lip as she wraps herself further into his shirt.

He pushes the dinner forward a week, buries the ring deeper into a draw she's never opened and curses under his breath, laughing because of course this would happen. Nothing about them had ever been easy, why should this be?

He doesn't even think about it, the ring, the proposal... pushes it to the back of his mind and it remains there for almost the entirety of the case, almost...It all happens pretty quickly after that.

She and Morgan are walking through the suspects house, he can hear their voices through their ear pieces and the sound of her voice is soothing as he stands outside, nerves firing through him.

The sound of the gun shot echo's, and everyone stills, waiting, praying for the moment where their friends voices come through the ear piece, but this time the waiting seems longer than it had been before, they seem to be left with silence for minuets rather than mere moments and his nerves turn to terror as he feels the team turn to face him, waiting for their next move, waiting for something. And he's about to speak, about to order them to run in behind him, be prepared for anything, when there's a gasp in his ear, followed by coughs, and harsh wheezes. They can hear Morgan asking Emily if she's okay, can hear the mumble of her reply and the sound of her voice nearly has him dropping to his knees, the feeling of complete relief almost overwhelming as her voice continues to travel to his ear.

Once she's out, he waits until they're out of earshot, out of the teams eye line, and as soon as they are he grabs her, pulling her into his arms and exhaling, the feeling of her relaxing into his hold making his heart melt. She rests her head in his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his waist and she sighs.

"I'm okay." she whispers and he simply nods, pulling away gently to cup her cheeks, look at her while he smiles. "I'm okay." she says again, taking his hands in her own and slowly pulling them down, "lets go home." she tells him with a smile, lacing her hand into his and laughing when he kisses her temple, before leading the two of them back to the SUVs.

He's still pacing when they get home, always opening his mouth to say something before closing it, only to then start pacing again and after almost an hour she snaps.

"What is wrong with you?" she asks, standing and he turns, facing her with wide eyes. "You've never acted like this before." she tells him, "stop pacing, just... sit." she tells him and he just, looks at her, knowing he should agree, knowing that he is acting strange but... his brain wont stop screaming about that day's events, the way she could have died and she would have never seen the ring, never worn in, never known just how in love with her he was, and he can not sit still. "Aaron, I swear to god—" she starts but he's already pulling the box out of this pocket, the box he put there when they first gotten home over an hour ago, opens it and interrupts her.

"Marry me." he says, and her words stop, her eyes widen and she stares, at him, then at the ring, and then at him again. "I had this plan, we were going to go for dinner and I was going to ask you at the bench, on the park where..." he fades out, before starting again, "but then today you, you got shot and... there was this moment, this long, horrible moment when I thought you were dead and— and all I could think about was how you would never know. Never know how much I love you—" she silences him with a kiss, cupping his face gently as she does, a smile forming as they break apart and she bites her bottom lip, laughing happily as he stares at her with confusion.

"Is that a yes?" he questions, a smirk growing on his face and she laughs, nodding her head as she hooks an arm around the back of his neck and kisses him again.

"Of course I'll marry you." she laughs happily and he smiles, taking the ring out and placing it on her finger before kissing her again, the band a cold but welcome feeling on his cheek as she cups it.

"I love you." he whispers, the feel of her smile against his lips warming his heart.

"I love you too." she tells him.

That night, he reaches over to his night stand and pulls out a necklace, a small charm hanging loosely from it and she sits up from where she rested on his chest.

"What's that?" she asks with a smile and he smirks, grabbing her left hand, the feel of the band on her ring finger making his heart flutter.

"I was thinking... you could hook your ring through it, that way you can wear it on the filed or..." he fades out, looking at her as she smiles. She grabs the necklace gently, staring at the small charm attached to it before her eyes land back on him.

"I love it." she smiles, leaning down to kiss him, "and I love you."

"I love you too." he tells her, tracing a finger down her bare back as she smiles.

She's wearing the ring on the necklace the next day, the sight of her smile as she tucks in under her shirt one he wishes he could imprint behind his eyes and replay forever, a smile he knows he reserved just for him.

They're all tested for radiation before they're allowed to step foot in the building, all scattered close by each other as they wait, as do many others. Each member of the team watching Emily from the corner of their eye as she leans against the door of their SUV, twisting the ring in her finger as she stares at it, wiping her tears.

"Has she said anything?" JJ asks Morgan when he comes up beside her, running a hand over his head.

"No," he tells her, "I don't—" he starts but stops himself, sighing with a shake of his head, "someone needs to call Haley..."

"I think Dave's already on it." she tells him, nodding her head towards the older man as he speaks on the phone a few yards away. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, under the circumstances." he says, "I think we all probably got out in time."

"If Aaron —" she starts, but he wont listen.

"I can't think about that." he tells her, casting his eyes to Emily again, "it will destroy her."

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to answer, a doctor heading their way.

"You're all clear." he tells them, "Agent Hotchner is still being seen to, but you're welcome to sit in the waiting area. I will come and get you the moment I know anything."

They thank him, a small, sad smile on their faces as they follow behind him into the hospital and Spencer turns, meeting Emily's eye as she trails behind them and he takes her hand and smiles when she accepts it.

"He's okay." he tells her, but they both know he can't be sure of that.

"Yeah." she whispers, following the team into the hospital, glancing once again to the necklace that rests in her palm, her ring feeling heavier than it usually does.

The wait seems like days as they sit there, each one coping differently. Spencer sits next to Emily, watching her closely as she stares ahead, her expression completely blank as her mind continues to run wild, JJ and Penelope sit across from her, the two blonde women ready to be there for whatever she needs should something happen, Dave leans against the wall, silent prayers leaving his mouth and Derek paces, the sound of his steps the only sound in the room.

"Will you sit down?" Emily snaps after a few more minuets and the man stops, turning his head to her, "you're making me dizzy."

"Yeah," he says gently, taking a seat next to Reid, "sorry."

Emily sighs, dropping her head forward and she's just about to apologise for snapping when a doctor finally appears.

"How is he?" Dave asks instantly as the doctor stands in front of them, and the look on her face has Emily turning around, a hand over her mouth as she exhales a shaky breath, a hand falling to her stomach as it turns violently, horror feeling like a brick in her gut.

"We did everything we could." she tells them once Emily turns to face her again, "we tried every antibiotic, tried every fluid... he was exposed for too long, there is nothing we can do. I'm sorry."

"What—" Emily says, clearing her throat, "what now?"

"We make him as comfortable as possible, keep him on a high dose of morphine for the next few hours, he will become short of breath, he'll have a high fever, he'll be nauseous... he'll be in a lot of pain." she tells her sadly, her tone full of regret and remorse.

"How long?" Emily asks her, and the woman sighs.

"I can't say for sure, some last a few hours, some a few days." she tells her, before sighing, "he currently has a high fever, he's on a morphine drip right now and is being filled with fluids. He had a high exposure to the radiation... I don't see him lasting the weekend." she tells her gently.

Emily inhales, clutching the ring that is back around her neck as she inhales, short, harsh breaths leaving her chest as she walks backwards.

"Can we see him?" Dave asks her.

"You can see him, yes, but I'm afraid you can't enter the room, there is a intercom on the wall, you can stay as long as you like."

"But we can't see him?" Derek asks and the doctor nods.

"No, I'm sorry..." she says, "If you'll excuse me." she tells them, sending them a sad smile before walking away, leaving them to process the news.

Everyone remains still, taking in the information, trying to understand it, no one hears footsteps heading towards them, and it's a small voice that breaks their trance.

"Where's daddy?" Jack asks them, resting on his mother's hips as she stands in front of them, and it isn't until Haley meets Emily eyes, sees the grief and heartbreak that stares back at her that it hits her.

"No..." she says, shaking her head, "he—"

"Why don't I take Jack?" JJ offers, smiling as the boy goes gently into her arms. She tilts her head for the team to follow, leaving the two women to talk.

"How long?" Haley asks her when its just two of them and Emily shakes her head, forcing herself to swallow the lump in her throat.

"They don't know." she tells her, "could be hours, could be days but they—" she stops, "they don't see him lasting longer than the weekend."

"Oh my g—" her words trail off, a hand coming over her mouth as she takes in Emily's words. "Where... where is he?" she asks.

"The ICU." Emily tells her, "you can't go in the room but there's an... intercom, outside." she says, "Jack should see him, if you —" but she doesn't continue, she can't, the pain in her chest becoming overwhelming.

"Yeah." Haley whispers, turning to look at her son as he smiles, oblivious to what is going on around him. "I'm sorry." she tells her and Emily looks up. "You're loosing the man you love and.. I'm sorry."

"Me too." Emily smiles sadly, "Excuse me." she says, passing her quickly and heading down the hall, out of sight as soon as she turns the corner and Haley puts on a smile and heads back to her son.

"I'm... going to take him to see Aaron." she tells the team, "one of you should go and find Emily." she tells them and Derek nods, already stepping to the side to pass her.

"He'll be breathless, he might have a fever but... he should see him." Reid tells her, "Before its too late."

Haley nods, stroking her sons cheek as she turns to smile at him, holding back her own tears for the sake of their child.

"You want to see Daddy?" she asks and the boy smiles, nodding his head. "Okay, come on." she says and they follow his doctor towards the ICU.

Derek finds her leaning on the wall, the back of her head resting against it as she closes her eyes, forces herself to keep breathing even though her heart feels like its going to snap inside of her chest.

"Haley took Jack to see him." he tells her, "you should go and see him to."

"How is this happening?" she asks him after a few moments, her voice small and broken, a sound he's never heard from her before and he hates it. Her eyes scream how much pain she's in, the tear falling down her cheek making him feel sick and he can only imagine how heartbroken she is, the thought of it being Spencer making his body recoil.

"I don't know, princess." he whispers, gently pulling her into his chest. "I'm sorry." he tells her gently, placing a kiss onto her head, feeling his heart physically shatter when her body rakes with sobs, the sound of them like a twist of a knife to his gut and all he can do is hold her tighter, knowing the one thing she needs is the one thing he can't give her...

a future with the man she loves.

Wiping her tears she heads down the hall, slowing her steps when she hears Jack talking to his father through the intercom, a small laugh leaving his body as he speaks. She smiles sadly at Haley when the woman turns, crossing her arms over herself as though she could protect herself from the inevitable. From the heartbreak, the loss, the grief that already felt like it was consuming her.

"Say goodbye," Haley whispers to her son, keeping her voice soft to avoid the crack and Jack smiles, waving at his father from the other side of the door, a sad goodbye daddy sounding more final than it ever should coming from such a young boy.

She stops in front of the other woman, Jack giving her a small wave as he rests his head on his mothers shoulder, a wave she gives back with a smile, the one he reciprocates reminding her of his father and her heart feel heavy, as she looks away.

"He..." Haley says, "he doesn't look good, Emily." she tells the other woman. "I think the weekend is a bit... out of reach." she whispers and all Emily can do is nod, taking a deep breath as she looks to the floor.

"Will you call me?" Haley asks, and she looks up, "when it happens? I don't want to hear it from Dave or... Morgan while they act like they get it..." she explains with such a sad tone that it almost has her dropping to the floor.

"Of course," she tells her, "I get that." she nods, and Haley smiles.

"Bye Emmy," Jack says softly as Haley begins walking off.

"Bye," she smiles at the boy, waving slightly as he looks at her other his mothers shoulder as they head out of view.

She clears her throat, taking a few breaths before she heads over to his room, she knew there is no way to prepare herself for this but the sight of him attached to wires, his body shivering as sweat pumps off him, his violent coughs forcing his body to recoil forward is an image she knows will haunt her forever.

"Hey..." she says through the intercom with a smile and he turns to her, a smile growing on his own face when he see's her, no longer scrunched in pain but, happy, light.

"Hi," he smiles, "how are you feeling?" he asks her and she laughs, truly laughs for the first time in over three hours and raises an eyebrow at him.

"How am I feeling?" she laughs, "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I suppose," He smirks, before looking at her, "you're okay?" he asks and she swallows, nodding her head as she tries to remain smiling.

"I'm okay." she tells him, "are you?"

"I am now." he smiles, "Emily I—" he starts, before his body recoils forward, harsh chokes coming from his chest as he gasps for air and she's being moved out of the way before she can even process what's happening, can only watch as doctors in full protective gear rush into the room, her back hitting the wall with force as she continues to back up.

"What happened?" Reid asks as the team head over to her, she just shakes her head.

"I—," she starts, "I don't know." she tells them, her eyes not leaving the room even as the curtains close, blocking him from view.

"Agent Prentiss?" someone says a moment later, everyone's head turning towards them. "May I talk with you for a moment?"

The woman just nods, pushing herself of the wall, she follows the doctor down the hall, taking one last look at the closed off room before turning a corner towards the doctors office.

As she takes a seat the doctor smiles at her, an uneasy feeling in her stomach increasing as she looks at her.

"What's going on?" she asks apprehensively, "I need to—"

"I understand you are Agent Hotchners fiancée... I'll make this as quick as I can I know this can not be easy."

"What?" she asks, her stomach clenching with nerves.

"Something came up on your tests, something you aren't probably aware of yet." she tells her, "You're pregnant, Agent Prentiss." she says after a few moments, and Emily freezes, taking a breath.

"I'm sorry?" she asks, "What do you mean I'm— No.." she stutters, her mind working overtime as she tries to understand, tries to take in the entire day's events on top of the news she's being given. "What?"

"About three weeks, I would say. Very, very early on, I figure you wouldn't have even realised a change in cycle yet." she tells her, "I understand this is tough news given the circumstances and you do have options.."

"Options?" Emily asks, "I—" she stops, "Pregnant?" she questions.

"Yes." the doctor tells her, handing her a sheet with a handful of different results on it and she inhales as she see's it, the bold positive across from the word pregnant, and her world shifts, she feels it. "I know this isn't ideal and.. I am sorry." she says but Emily remains silent, "Take a few days, think about things. I can only imagine how difficult this must be."

"Yeah," she whispers, looking back at the doctor, "I have— I have to go." she says, standing, her mind scattered as her world flips around her, nothing feeling real.

"Of course," she says, handing her a card, "Please, if you need anything, if you need to discuss options, call me."

"Okay." Emily says, taking the card and with that leaves the room, pushing the piece of paper into her back pocket as she heads down the hall and back to the team. Back to Aaron. Her dying fiancée. The father of her child. The dying father of her child.

A child she isn't even sure she wants. A child they've barley even spoken about.

Four months ago

They're watching Jack and Henry laugh together in the living room, the team scattered around JJ's house when he says it.

"Do you want any?" he asks, placing an arm over her shoulder, lacing his fingers through hers as they reach for them.

"What? Kids?" she questions, turning her head to face him and he nods. "I... I've never really thought about it." she tells him honestly, having pushed the options of kids far from her mind after getting out of Interpol.

"You're great with Jack." he tells her with a smile, her own forming on her face as she looks towards him, his laugh echoing around the room as he runs from Morgan. "I'm not saying you have to decide right now but... we should definitely talk about it."

"Sure." she smiles, trying to ignore the feeling of fear as it creeps into her gut, the thought of bringing a child into the world knowing what their job entails, knowing that her past is brutal and could return at any moment, knowing she has no idea how to be a mother, never really having one herself.

"It's okay if you dont—"

"Can we talk about it later?" she interrupts, smiling sadly as she looks at him.

"Yeah." he tells her, kissing her temple before turning to the happy shouts of Jack, his smile wide and she has to look away, the idea that she might be the reason he doesn't have anymore feeling like a brick in her stomach.

They never do manage to talk about it again, it lingers, whenever he watches her with Jack and she can almost hear the words on the tip of his tongue but he never says them, choosing instead to let her be the one to start the conversation, but she never does, knowing that when she ultimately decides that she can't, that she wont be a mother, she's forcing him into that decision to, one where he never gets to have another child, and the fear that he'll leave her, the option of more children important to him, silences her every time.

The piece of paper that sits in her back pocket, the object another reminder that her whole life is going to change, has her dropping to the floor, her back against the wall as she throws her head forward, crying into her hands, and it dawns on her, that Aaron is dying, that the future she had planned was gone, a mere almost that she will think about for the rest of her life and as she cries, she thinks about all the times she could have spoken to him about their kid and never did, and now has to decide whether to share the news with him that there is a child, their child, his child, but one he will never meet.

That hurts more that the idea of him leaving her ever did.

It's Reid who finds her, she'd been sat there awhile, the cries had turned silent, her head leaning against the wall as she stares at the one opposite, the piece of paper dangling loosely in her hands as well as the necklace, the ring swinging side to side. Tears continue to fall down her face, the waterworks non stop as the information, her new reality, starts to overwhelm her.

"Hey." he says softly, coming up to the side of her. "He's okay." he tells her and she drops her head, a short sob leaving her body. He sits down next to her, looks at her as his head rests on the wall. "We were worried, when you didn't come back."

"Sorry," she says quietly, lifting her head back to the wall as she sighs, not even bothering to wipe the tears that wont stop anyway. "I just... needed a minute."

"Is everything okay?" he asks her and she laughs, because, what a stupid question. "I mean, I know it's not, but—" he says quickly, "What did the doctor say, is what I meant."

She sighs before looking at him, the worry that stares back at her making her smile sadly, and she hands him the paper, turning away, unable to look at the way his eye's widen as he reads it.

"Em.. I—" he stops, shaking his head, this is cruel.

"I don't know what to do." she whispers, wiping her cheeks with both hands as she sighs, "I don't even know if I should tell him."

"I'm sorry." he whispers because its all he can say, there are no words for a situation like this. "I didn't know you guys were trying." he says almost uncomfortably and she chuckles at that while she shakes her head.

"We weren't," she says, "I mean.. we were... but we weren't—"

"I got it." he stops her, a frown on his face as he shakes the mental image from his mind, a smile forming when she laughs. "I don't have an answer, for if you should tell him... I think—" he stops, placing his hand in hers, "I think you need to decide this on your own."

"It feels cruel, to tell him about a child he'll never meet," she says as she takes his hand, "I don't even know if I... I don't know." she sighs sadly.

"Do you want to keep it?" he asks her.

"I don't know." she says again, the three words falling off her tongue more in the last day than she thinks it ever has before. "If he was alive, if he'd be here, then, maybe but..." she tails off, fresh tears falling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." he repeats, "for all of it."

"Me too." she says, turning to the sound of footsteps.

"He's asking for you." Morgan tells her, walking over and helping the two of them of the ground, "What's that?" he asks regarding the paper still in Spencer's hand.

"Nothing," he tells him, "Just the test results." he smiles and Morgan accepts it, lacing his hand through his free one; As the three are walking, Emily smiles gratefully at the young genius, taking the paper back slyly and putting it back in her pocket, telling herself she can deal with it later, but she knows if she wants to tell him, it has to be soon.

He smiles when he see's her through the door, a soft, but happy hi on his lips.

"How are you feeling?" she asks him, her own soft smile on her face.

"I'm okay," he tells her, but she can see right through it, the frown lines on his face, the harsh breaths he takes, he's in pain and it kills her. "No one could find you, said you had to...something about a doctor?" his words don't make sense, another hint to her that he's in more pain than he's letting on, but she lets him, able to give him just this one thing. Let him comfort her.

"Just something about the tests," she says, "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" he asks her, worry in his eyes.

"I'm okay," she tells him, "I—" she stops, clenching her jaw as she looks down, refusing to let herself cry in front of him. "I wish I could be in there."

"I know," he replies gently, "me too." There's a sadness in his eye, and it hits her then, that he knows he's dying to, that just as she is feeling their future slip away, so he is. He knows he'll never see his son grow up, never grow old, never meet his grandchildren, and it makes her feel sick, that he's aware of it, that he's grieving for everything he'll lose just as much as they are. And the thought of adding more to that, the thought of telling him that their having a baby just for him to know about another thing he will never meet, never watch grow up, just feels selfish.

"What is it?" he asks her and she snaps her head back up, smiling as she wipes her tears and shakes her head.

"Nothing." she whispers, "I just..."

"Yeah, I know," he whispers back, "I should have listened to you, you are always right after all." he teases, and she laughs.

"You're just now releasing this?" she jokes.

"Hm," he smirks, "I guess I've always—" he's interrupted by a series of harsh coughs, his breaths very few in between as he chokes and she hates that she can't be in there, that she can't rub his back and whisper your okay for just the little bit of comfort that he deserves. He leans back as his catches his breath, a mixture of exhaustion, high doses of morphine and death pulling him down, his eyes closing slightly.

"Get some rest." she tells him, "I'll be right here."

"I love you," he mumbles as he looks at her through thin eyes, his pale skin covered in sweat as he shivers.

"I love you too." she smiles, waiting for him to succumb to sleep before she lets her smile drop and the tears fall, allowing herself to be pulled into familiar arms as they wrap around her.

"I got you," Morgan whispers, holding back his own tears for her, for Hotch, for them. "I got you, princess." he says again, rubbing a hand down her back as she cries..

It happens that day, four hours later.

She isn't even with him, when it begins, she's in the waiting room, staring once again at the piece of paper, her brain working overtime to try and process it, to try and figure out if telling him is selfish and cruel, or if not telling him is selfish and cruel, the argument feeling loud in her head.

It's Morgan who comes to get her, his face full of devastation as she looks up and it makes her heart fall, the paper forgotten and falling to the floor when she stands, before rushing past him, not noticing him go to pick it up.

"Agent Prentiss—" The doctor starts as Emily reaches the room, "You—"

"I need to be in there." she tells her, her heart hammering in her chest, the thought of him dying alone making her want to drop to her knees.

"I'm afraid you can't—" she starts but she wont accept it, already charging past her, and neither the team or the doctors are able to stop her as she barges past them all, working on her need to see him, to tell him, to be there making her stronger than them all combined and she's through the door in less than thirty seconds, the sound of it shutting behind her louder than intended, and everyone jumps.

"She can't be in there—" one starts, already moving to forcibly remove her from the room but Dave steps forward.

"She's already in there, you wont get her out."

"It's against all procedure, she could—"

"She's already in there." he tells them again, "It's too late."

"What are the chances of her getting it? If she stays with him?" JJ asks.

"Ten, maybe fifteen percent." they tell her, "But—"

"She'll sign the forms, say she went in their against orders. Just, let her be with him, don't make her watch him die alone." Penelope says from her sheet on the chairs.

"It gets worse," Morgan says as he walks up to them, passing the paper to JJ as she reaches for it.

"Oh... my god." she sighs sadly, fresh tears forming in her eyes.

"What?" Dave asks, everyone's eyes on the paper.

"She's pregnant." JJ tells them, and the area goes silent as they look towards the room, each one feeling stuck as they watched Emily close the curtains.

He turns to the door when it shuts and his eye's widen when he see's her, his hand already reaching for her on instinct.

"What are you doing in here?" he asks, his voice breathless, "You—"

"Don't worry," she tells him, "You're not radio active." she teases, the white lie feeling like the right decision when he visibly relaxes, reaching out his hand for her again, she takes it with a smile. He moves over, tapping the new space with a puppy dog look and she laughs, rolling her eyes as she sits, before moving herself to lay on her side, his body slotting perfectly in her arms as she runs a hand down his cheek, the other clasped in the one that rests in the middle of them.

"Jack likes you," he tells her, his tone soft, but breathy and harsh, and she closes her eyes, preparing herself for him getting ready to go. "You should stay, in his life. Haley could... find it useful, and he'd like to see you sometimes."

"I will," she tells him, running a hand through his hair, "I promise."

"I'm sorry," he says after a few moments, "for going back into the building, for—"

"Shh," she silences him, shaking her head, "this isn't your fault."

"If I—"

"You saved that little girl, " she tells him, "You did the right thing. It's okay." she whispers, lifting her hand from his to cup his cheek, make her look at him. "I'm proud of you." she smiles, and he laughs, a slight cough following and she runs a thumb over his cheek.

"I really wanted to marry you." he tells her, reaching for the ring around her neck. "I always imagined we would just get home after a tough case, go to city hall..." he smiles, his eye's brightening when he see's hers, the happy laugh that leaves her throat still making his heart flutter, even now. "I was thinking we... would go to Europe for our honeymoon, you'd, take me to all your favourite places..."

"That sounds nice." she whispers, "We would have gone to Paris first." she tells him, "Then Italy... maybe Rome or.. Florence, depending on the time of year."

"Definitely spring." he smirks, their happy laughs making it seem like its pillow talk, like its something they can plan, and not something that went from future to fantasy in less than twenty four hours.

"Spring?" she smiles, "Then Florence," she tells him, running her fingers through his hair as he goes lighter in her arms, his breaths becoming more and more uneven while he places his hand in hers on his cheek, bringing it to his lips that linger for a moment.

She knows it now or never, telling him or remaining quiet, letting them bask in the bubble of what if— but the thought of him never knowing, the idea that if she kept them, she would have to live with the fact she never gave him a chance to know they exist has her stomach knotting, the feeling of regret already to heavy.

"I have to tell you something." she whispers, "I— it seems selfish, to tell you but I—"

"What?" he asks softly, lacing their fingers together on his still beating chest.

She looks at him for a moment, the words unable to come out of her mouth.

"Em.. sweetheart, what is it?" he asks her.

She closes her eyes, shaking her head as she drops it slightly, squeezing his hand before looking at him.

"I'm pregnant." she whispers, so quiet that if the room wasn't as silent as it was, he wouldn't have heard her. "I— Just found out a few hours ago and its.. early, like, three weeks and— I didn't know if I should tell you because it seems so... cruel, because—" she rambles, taking a pause to look at him, "I don't know what to do." she tells him, her voice broken, "about any of this."

He lifts his hand, cupping her cheek softly as he wipes her tears, before placing a soft kiss on her lips, one that he puts all of his feelings into, a fear that it could be his last.

"You do what you think is best." he whispers against her lips, their foreheads resting together, "I'm sorry—" she silences him with another soft, sweet kiss.

"I love you." she whispers, their tears joining as one, "I—"

"I know," he smiles, pulling away from her slowly, resting his head back on the pillow as he looks at her. "I love you too." he tells her, "so much."

He's fading out, she can hear it in his breathing, in the way his eye's are closing more frequently, in the way his muscles feel light against her.

She runs her thumb over his cheek again, a smile on her face as she tangles their bodies together, wanting to remain as close to him as possible for the short time they had left.

"I'm sorry I wont be there, for whatever you decide." he chokes out, his voice rough with less air meeting his lungs, an almost gasp for air in his tone. "I know you never really knew if you wanted it—"

"It's okay." she smiles, nodding her head while she holds her tears back, "I'm glad you kissed me in your office that time." she teases, reminding them both of just how far they had come since that first kiss almost three years ago and his laugh has her smiling, finding some happiness in their last moments.

"Me too," he tells her, "I'm glad you showed up at my apartment the week after to shout at me for it."

"It felt justified at the time," she jokes, pushing some hair from his head as he sweats, when a violent shiver making his way through his body she holds him closer, smiling when their faces line up on the pillow. "It's okay." she nods, her voice delicate as she swallows the lump in her throat.

His breathing shallows out, the shivers stopping as he looks at her.

"Thank you for loving me," she whispers to him, the crack in her voice nothing compared to the one in her chest.

"Thank you for letting me." he smirks, allowing them one more happy laugh before he stops fighting, letting the exhaustion in, letting it take over.

"I love you." she tells him; then he's gone, the last thing he ever hears a declaration of love he'd never been in doubt of.

He's gone before her sobs take over, and in the end she's grateful for that.

-

She doesn't know how long she stays in there, clinging to him as she sobs, unable to accept that he's truly gone, knowing the moment she lets go, the moment she stands and leaves the room, that it's real. That she'll never see him again, never come home and be able to fall easily into his arms on the couch, or smile as she watches him attempt to do a household chore, never hear him laugh at his own jokes or feel his hands in hers, never again feel loved by him, unsure if she would ever feel love again. But she knows she has to, has to leave the room, step back into reality, her new reality, a life without him; She detangles herself from him, looks at him once more placing a kiss on his forehead. She wipes her tears, steps off the bed and heads for the door, hesitating for a moment, letting herself take a breath, letting herself be alone in her grief before she has to take on everyone else's.

As soon as she opens the door, everyone stands, looking at her with pity as she closes it, the click of the door sounding like an ending to a life she thought she would have.

"Em—" JJ starts heading towards her but the woman holds out her hand, stopping her in her tracks.

"I have to call Haley." she says in a voice she doesn't even recognise, a voice that's quiet but harsh, almost like she had swallowed razor blades.

"I can do that." Dave says, taking a step towards her, but she shakes her head, stepping away from him.

"No, she—" she stops, inhaling a breath as closes her eyes, leaning her head on the door as dizziness over takes her, feeling too much but nothing at all all at once. "I have to do it." she tells him.

"Emily—" JJ says softly, "really, let them do it, you've been through a lot and—"

"Agent Prentiss," a doctor say's as they come around the corner, "I'm sorry for your loss." he tells her and she just stares at him, "you need to come with me, you needed to be tested for—"

"I have to make a phone call." she says, already trying to walk away but he stops her, a soft hand on her arm and she spins. "What—"

"You really need to have another test done, just to be safe." he tells her, "you can take the call from the room. I understand there may be a few you need to make under the circumstances."

"I—" she starts, before giving up, letting herself be lead by him.

"I'll stay." Morgan says to the team, "Go, see your family, get some air."

"He's really dead..." Garcia whispers.

"Yeah," he sighs, "You'll inform Strauss?" he asks Dave, who just simply nods his head. None of them move, their eye's remaining on the window, the knowledge of what is behind the closed curtains enough to have each one of them nauseous.

She make's the call while she waits for the results, holds back her own sobs as she listen's to Haley's.

"I'd like to help with... planning the funeral?" she asks quietly, "I know I'm—"

"Of course," Emily says, "He's the father of your child. You get a say."

"Thank you." the other woman whispers, "I'm so sorry, Emily."

She inhales, pressing her ring into her hand. "Me too."

The entrance of the doctor has her ending the call.

"You're all clear," she smiles, "I hear you're pregnant." she adds, a sad smile on her face, "I assume congratulations is the wrong word."

"Yeah," she says quietly, still processing that fact, still unsure on what she's going to do and still refusing to think about it. "I'm free to go?"

"Yes," she smiles, "I would like you to come back in six weeks if you decide to keep the baby, just to make sure everything is okay before—"

"Sure," Emily smiles, "Thanks." and she's out of the room.

She excepts to find one or two of her friends stood there, outside the room her dead fiancée lay in until he was cleared for transport, and is shocked to find all five of them.

"Hey," JJ says, smiling at her friend, "Everything okay?"

She simply nods, "I—" she starts but, stops, having no idea what to say, what to do, taken over by a sort of trance, her whole body feeling numb.

"You can stay with me and Will, if you want." JJ offers, "Don't feel like you have to go home until you're ready."

"Thanks," she smiles, "But I just... I need to." she says, nodding her head.

"I'll drive you," Dave tells her, shaking his head when she goes to decline. "You're in no state to drive and even if you were, you don't have a car."

"Okay," she says, noticeably avoiding looking at the door of the room. "Thanks."

It takes them all a few moments, but eventually they make their way from the hospital, each one buried in a mixture of their own heartbreak, and the heartbreak on behalf of Emily.

"Call me if you need anything." JJ tells her, and she nods, before following beside Dave as he heads to the car.

They're riding in silence for almost ten minuets when he speaks.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"About what?" she says, closing her eyes as she swallows the bile in her throat.

"Any of it. Aaron, the baby..."

Her eyes snap open, turning her head to face him. "What—"

"You dropped it," he tells her, "The paper. Morgan picked it up."

She doesn't speak, instead turns to look at the road.

"Do you know what you're going to do?"

"No." she says, picking at the skin around her fingers.

"Well, whatever you decide. We're all here for you." he tells her and she gives him a small smile before letting them fall back into silence, quickly wiping a tear that falls down her cheek.

"You didn't have to walk me up." she tells him, unlocking the door.

"Yes I did." he tells her and she rolls her eyes, forcing the door open as she holds her breath, but nothing could have prepared her for it. For the way his cup from that morning was still on the living room table, the newspaper he was reading discarded as though he thought he'd be picking it back up when he got home tonight. Throwing her bag onto the table next to the door she catches sight of his coat, one he'd worn the previous weekend when they went out with Jack. There was a picture of the three of them just on the counter ahead of her and she almost wants to throw it at the wall but instead, heads further into the house, turning to face Dave when she reached the middle of the living room.

"You really don't need to stay," she tells him, "I... want to be alone..."

"Of course," he nods, "If you need anything."

"I'll call you." she finishes with a small smile, and he accepts it, leaving with a smile of his own and once the door shuts, she inhales, forcing herself to walk into the bedroom, her eyes landing on the bed, their bed, his white t-shirt still in a ball on the bed from where he'd thrown it at her that morning after getting back from his run, she can still hear their laughter, as though their happiness haunts the now silent house. Without the energy to even get undressed, she climbs into the bed, the scent of him overclouding her as she lays her head into his pillow, fresh tears rolling down her eyes and she turns, lays on her back with her eyes to the celling and she places her hand on her flat stomach.

"I don't know what to do," she whispers, before letting herself cry once more, accepting her new reality, one where she no longer has him, one where he no longer exists.

His funeral is small, the team, Haley and Jack, his brother and some other people he met during his time at the FBI.

It remains a blur, the service, the burial, the speeches, all of it, similar to the three weeks leaning up to it, it all merges together.

Haley finds her at the wake, hiding in Dave's overly large kitchen picking at a piece of bread, the selection of food making her nauseous.

"Hey," the blonde woman says, apologising when the other startles before turning. "How are you?"

"Getting by," she smiles, placing the plate on the counter, "How are you? How's Jack?"

"I think... he finally accepts it," she says sadly, "He said goodnight to him while looking up at the sky last night, which was..." she trails off, shaking her head as tears well in her eyes. "But we'll get through it. We all will."

Emily can only smile, scared that if she spoke, she'd cry.

"Have you made a decision?" Haley asks quietly, casting an eye to her still flat stomach when Emily frowns.

"What—" she questions, "How do you know?"

"I've been pregnant with a Hotchner baby," she smiles, "I know the signs." she adds and Emily looks down, overwhelmed by a feeling of complete jealousy, can't help the way it rises up in her as she realises Haley got the pregnancy experience she would kill for. One shared with a man she loved. The very same man who should have been here, with her. And Haley realises her mistake the moment her head drops.

"God, Emily, I'm... I'm sorry, that was... I—"

"It's fine." she smiles, looking up again, "But, no, I haven't." she tells her.

"Whatever you decide, I want you to know that.. I want you in Jacks life." she says, "He loves you and..." she stops, "I'd like to be apart of your... their life, should you decide to keep it. For you. For Jack. Aaron isn't here but.. It's still Jack's sibling and they should have a family. You both should." she tells her, smiling at the woman as she looks at her, "No matter what you decide, you're not alone, Emily. You'll always have a place in Jack's life... In our life."

She's silent for a moment, before she reaches for the blondes hand, squeezing it gently, "Thank you." she whispers.

"How far along are you?"

"I don't know, five, maybe six weeks."

"If you need someone to talk to about this, I'm a phone call away."

"I know," she smiles, "Thank you."

The blonde woman walks around, gently pulling her into her arms.

"You're not alone, Emily." she tells her, "And your baby won't be either."

"I don't know what to do." she whispers, and Haley pulls back, looking at her new friend.

"You do what's best for you, what you can handle." she tells her, "But what you have inside you is the last little bit of Aaron we have, and I don't want you to make a rash decision only to regret it later on." she whispers, "You have a few weeks, and I'm here, the team is here, and we will respect whatever decision you make. But were also here to listen, to advice, whatever you need."

"Thank you," Emily whispers, "I— thank you." is all she can say, and Haley smiles, before Jack calls her and she's gone.

She watches Haley and Jack from the corner of the room, wonders if she can do it, be a mother, raise a child, but then Jack smiles at her, a smile that is all Hotchner and the idea that there is one more part of Aaron left here, one last little bit of them, she thinks that maybe she can, maybe this baby is what was going to save her from suffocating in her unbearable grief.

-

nine months later 

She stops the car on the path, taking a deep breath as she looks ahead at the graveyard, reaching for the ring that rests on her chest as she exhales before getting out of the car. She grabs them from the back sheet, shifts them nicely into her arms and walks over slowly, the route to his grave stone now muscle memory, having done it so many times.

“Hey.” she says gently, looking down at the stone, smiling at the fresh flowers that sit there, each selection a different type from a different person. “I know it’s been a few weeks but…” she bends down slowly, shifting her arms slightly. “I was doing a thing.” she smirks, looking at the one month old in her arms.

“She has your eyes,” she says, “your nose to.” she adds, smiling at her daughter as she grabs her hands forward at the grave. “Say hi daddy,” Emily coo’s, another whisper of hi leaving her lips as her daughter babbles.

“I’ll bring her, as much as I can.” she says, “She’ll know you through me, through Haley, I’m sure Jack has a few stories to.” she looks at the stone sadly, “You should have been here,” she whispers, clearing her throat as tears well put in her eyes, smiling when their daughter reaches out to touch the stone, turning to look at her with eyes that make her heart warm, eyes that remind her of Aaron.

you should have been here remains a constant thought throughout every mile stone, forever a space in their life where he should have been. 

A void they never fill. 

fin

[coeurdastronaute]

HSAU: College Part 1

Previously on HSAU

Morning started the same, every day, rain or shine. Four thirty in the morning, the alarm beeped in the small attic room, and under one section of angled roof, where a pile of blankets slumbered, an arm would appear and slap around until the offending noise stopped. It was precise and methodical and never changed, six days a week.

Lexa ran her hands over her face after pushing off the blankets, but stayed in bed just a few seconds longer, orienting herself. Though it was still summer, the sky hadn’t brightened just yet, and the night was disinterested in ending anytime soon. When she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, she stretched and cracked her joints and yawned before grabbing an old shirt to throw over her sports bra and slipping on a pair of shorts. The fan in her window hummed along while the crickets outside groaned in the heat. Outside, the neighborhood she grew up in was quiet and still. A dog barked and calmed itself. No cars moved at all. Every picket fence and yard with signs and flags slumbered before dawn came, and Lexa was the first among the living. July was awake before the dawn as well. It shook off the night from its coat and stretched forward and backward before loping into the streets, covering every surface with a few inches of thick heat. Without the sun, the heat rose up straight from the ground itself, radiating out into the world. Lexa paused halfway through her run and tied her shoe as the light changed for no cars at all. As she stood she dried her forehead on her shoulder and started off again. Her run got insanely longer with the new summer route that took her out towards her uncle’s garage. For no reason at all. “Where’s Bear?” “I let him sleep in,” Lexa smiled before distracting herself with wiping the sweat from her face with her old shirt. “I ran here though, so that’s impressive.” “Yeah, I mean... no Bear though,” Clarke shrugged and hustled about the café, preparing for the opening. It took just a second, but somewhere between flipping the sign on the door and moving to make the second round of coffee, Lexa grabbed her girlfriend’s arm and tugged her back, kissing her like she had been waiting to do since she started her run. “Your mom still at that conference?” “Until Thursday.” “Want me to help you pack?” “Why don’t you let me actually pack and then come over to watch a movie or something,” Clarke chuckled and pushed at her girlfriend’s chest. “I am a great helper.” “No you’re not,” she smiled and ran her hand up Lexa’s neck, pushing her body closer as she found herself stuck between the counter and her quarterback. “I could barely walk after the last time you came over to help.” The words made her shiver, but Lexa grinned as she swallowed and ran her hands over Clarke’s hips. “But you were way more relaxed.” “I can’t wait until practice starts again. You need to work off all that energy somewhere else.” “How about another training session tonight?” The puppy dog eyes were in full effect, distracting her from everything else. The jingling of the bell at the door made them pull apart. Lexa smiled politely, clearing her throat as her girlfriend adjusted her apron. Just a few more days, and they would be gone, away from the safety of their little town. The entire summer had been spent avoiding thinking about it too much, had been spent disappearing to float down the river, to watch movies much too late in Lexa’s room until her mother would come home late from work and politely remind them of the hour, to drop Aden off at his science camp and disappear together to the mountains and spend the day hiking, which inevitably ended with lounging in the shade atop the hill. Lexa took her seat, at her table, and waited until Clarke finished with the first few customers of the morning. Miraculously, without even having to order, a water appeared, with a big bowl of oatmeal and fruit. Just like nearly a year ago, the quarterback sat there and studied plays as the morning rush came and went. Most of her time was spent watching the girl with blonde hair and cheeks that had that damn smile. For the life of her, Lexa couldn’t figure out how she was going to find the motivation to run when she moved to New Haven. XXXXXXXXX

The evening was growing long in the tooth, but neither party could be bothered to let it end without a fight. And even though a mother made her presence known from time to time, it didn’t deter the two sweethearts in the attic hideaway. Nothing really could, with the late-July heat settling on the roof, angry and annoyed. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen your room this clean ever before,” Clarke observed as she hunkered down on the bed while Lexa finished packing and straightening up. “It wasn’t ever dirty, it just feels… I don’t know. Less lived in.” 

“I wasn’t going to leave a mess for my mom.” 

“I know. I just don’t like any of it.” 

“You’ll be doing the same thing in like six weeks.” 

“Oh no. I’m definitely leaving a mess for my mom.” 

Lexa chuckled and zipped up another duffle bag before tossing it on the pile. She gave her room a finally glance and felt a twinge of sadness in the base of her heart, a tiny little tug on her body that felt like she was already gone. She fell into her bed beside her girlfriend and smiled when a hand pushed hair away from her face. 

“You’re going to go across the country tomorrow,” Clarke whispered. “And I will miss you. But you are going to do something spectacular.” 

The quarterback slid her hand around Clarke’s hip, her thumb touching the warm skin there. She liked the feeling of her, and she wanted to remember it. 

“I’ll miss you badly.” 

“Obviously. I’m incredibly missable.” 

Lexa smiled as Clarke held it there and kissed her eagerly, without holding anything back, to try to say what she couldn’t. Hands gripped on her hips and she pushed forward toward Lexa. Hands moved to her neck and she dug her hands into her girlfriend’s hair. 

“I’ll come see you when you move in,” Lexa promised. “Just a three hour train ride and I can be there.” 

“And you’ll work very hard earning that starting spot this summer. No distractions. And if you get a chance,” Clarke grinned and slide her hand up her girlfriend’s stomach. “To get in shape.” 

“You oogling me is really good motivation.” 

“I don’t oogle,” Clarke shook her head as lips moved to her neck. She felt Lexa settle atop her and closed her eyes, pulling her closer, always closer. “I appreciate.” 

“You’ll have a good summer, right? Not miss me too much.” 

“I’ll miss you plenty, but I’ll try.” 

“Will you, um,” Lexa pulled away slightly, her lips a little puffier, her eyes a little more dilated, her hands touching skin and aching for more. “Would you do me a favor?” 

“Your mom is still making dinner. We have like an hour before dinner. I plan on doing a few favors for you.” 

“No, no, not that,” she shook her head. “Well. Kind of that. But I just… I want you to have a good time this summer, and not think about me. But while you’re doing that, could you watch out for Aden? He gets… he gets quiet sometimes. And my mom. She works too hard. I don’t want to leave them.” 

Her eyes were a little glassy with the confession and Clarke pressed her hand to her chest and nodded with a smile before kissing her softly. 

“I’ll keep an eye on them.” 

“You have no idea how good that is to hear.” 

“I can imagine.”

“Any favors I can do for you?” Lexa ventured with a smile. 

“One or two.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

It wasn’t easy for the first week, but Clarke kept telling herself that if she could make it one week, then she could do it, without a doubt. As hard as it was, she clawed her way through the first seven days without Lexa almost intact and only cried a handful to a dozen times. 

They survived with FaceTime and texts and calls. She got to see a lot of Lexa’s new world with tons of pictures and a lot of eager explanations, and Clarke made sure to keep plans with friends, electing to fake it and hopefully find some moments of happiness. And she did, swimming with friends, parties by the river, working at the café. It was all doable when she didn’t take any time to think about it. 

And every night when she talked with her girlfriend on the phone, Clarke had something to tell her that she did that day to keep herself busy. And she got to hear about how crazy training was, and how awesome the team was, and how exciting being on her own seemed to be. Clarke could handle listening to Lexa talk for hours. 

But there was something she needed to do, and she waited until the first milestone of a week to muster up the courage to do it. 

“Clarke, honey, it is so good to see you,” Gabby opened the door and smiled, wiping her hands in the towel on her shoulder before hugging the girl at her door tightly. 

“It’s good to see you, too,” Clarke sighed, melting into the motherly embrace. 

“I hope you’re hungry. I made chicken.” 

“Is it cooked?” 

“Ha ha. Very funny,” she rolled her eyes, grinning as she ushered her guest inside. 

The house smelled warm and delicious, and somehow felt a little different without Lexa’s bag of gear by the door and her cleats clogging up the entryway. The noises were still the same, some music playing over the small radio on the kitchen counter and Aden’s music thumping overhead, but there wasn’t a happy girl about to lope down the steps at the sound of the door and kiss the guest, and everyone knew it. 

“How have you been? How’s summer so far?” Gabby asked as Clarke followed toward the kitchen. 

“Not too bad. Normal stuff. Working and preparing to leave.” 

“Ah, to be young and with the summer ahead,” she wistfully sighed before taking the chicken out of the oven. 

Her phone rang, and Clarke saw the familiar pep in her step to answer it after she looked at the clock, familiar with the schedule Lexa liked to keep. 

“Hey, kid. How are you?” she smiled at her phone as her daughter’s face popped on the screen. “Your timing is great. Look who just showed up for dinner.” 

Clarke waved at her girlfriend from the counter earning a huge smile. 

“Make sure the chicken is cooked,” Lexa offered.  

“Way ahead of you.” 

“How was practice today? You still sore in the shoulder?” 

“It was great. I got some time in on the first line and had a really good film session. I just got back from dinner with a bunch of the guys. It was Shawn’s birthday, so we went to get a bite at this awesome Chinese place I can’t wait to show you both.”

“And you’re back in the dorm by nine?” 

“A couple of the other guys went to grab drinks, but I’ve honestly never been more tired in my entire life, and we have a five call time tomorrow for conditioning.” 

“Okay, honey, well thanks for calling me. You should sleep.” 

“I will. Clarke, wake me up later so you can tell me all about dinner and your day?” 

“We’ll see,” she shrugged and smiled. 

“I’ll be half asleep but I’m extra cute when I’m half-asleep.” 

“It’s true,” Gabby nodded. “She’s impossible to tolerate when she’s awake.” 

“Very funny,” Lexa rolled her eyes. “I love you guys. Have a good dinner. I’m sorry I missed it.” 

“Get some sleep,” they both ordered. 

It was a good dinner. Clarke enjoyed her time with Lexa’s family as she always did, and she felt a little better that Lexa gave her something to do. Maybe it was a win-win all along, that Lexa got to make sure her family was watched, and Clarke would have something to do. She wasn’t sure she could give Lexa all the credit for the plan, just that she was glad it worked out that way. 

XXXXXXXXX

It had been a long two months. Clarke felt every second of it, she thought, despite how busy she was preparing to move across the country. There was still work, and there was still time with friends, still the summer shenanigans she’d come to love, still time with everyone else who was going their own ways as well. 

It took forever and it went on in a blink. But by the time she got off the plane and picked up her luggage, she realized she didn’t particularly miss home at all. As she stood on the curb and waited for an Uber, she wasn’t as daunted by the idea of change as she had expected, but rather eager to embrace it all. 

“Excuse me, ma’am, you’re going to have to move along--”

Dumbfounded, Clarke stared at her girlfriend, who seemed to have somehow gotten taller and prettier in their time apart, standing next to an old truck. Clad in a backward blue ball cap and a torn up workout shirt that looked as if it was still dirty from a morning practice. 

“What are you--?” Clarke began to ask before smiling too much and launching herself into her quarterback’s arms. 

It felt good, to feel Lexa’s arms around her waist, to smell the sun on her neck, to fit so snuggly there. Clarke squeezed with all of her might, kissing what she could smooshed there, with Lexa’s arms returning it, a laugh in her throat strangled from escaping. 

Somehow Clarke realized her legs wrapped around Lexa and she was essentially a koala, latched there. She didn’t care. She kissed her girlfriend, ignoring the honks of the cars and the swirling police that wanted to usher everyone along. She somehow became the person who missed another persons lips. It was infuriating. 

“How did you know?” 

“My mom told me about your flight,” Lexa shrugged. “I borrowed a truck from one of the guys on the line. They think you’re hot.” 

“Well, that’s… sweet, I guess.” 

“I couldn’t wait to see you. Even if it’s just for a little bit.”

“You’re getting soft on me, Woods.” 

“Yeah,” she grinned, squeezing again. “I don’t care. I knew no one would be here to take you to school.” 

“I was just going to uber or taxi.” 

“I’m going to be the person who takes you where you need to go, even if you don’t ask or expect it, and not in as creepy a way as that sounds--”

She was silenced with another kiss as Clarke struggled to hide her smile. 

[guqin-and-flute]

[I am once again giving you an unrelated fanfic. Have some Modern married Xiyao.

Potential CW: poor anger coping skills?, very brief mention of suicidal ideation in internal dialogue. It's an errant thought and he doesn't actually mean it]

Jin Guangyao is upset. What's more upsetting is that he doesn't know why he's upset--this lack of information rankles him more than the feeling. He's used to feeling badly. That's how life is. But without a name, there is nowhere to file it away neatly. It is easier to ignore the sharp sting of a newly noticed cut than this fucking awful malaise that has apparently decided to settle over him with no rhyme or reason like he's some stupid idiot in an artsy French film, slowly choking down filtered cigarettes on some rusty balcony against a sunset or something.

That's not what he does. He is efficient. He is useful. And when he is like this, he is not.

And he still doesn't know why. And the fact that he cannot categorize and escape this has the ennui sliding slowly into a slow boil of tooth grinding fury.

Had it been the morning traffic? The fact that the library had emailed to inform him of a delay on his inter-library loan? The fact that his overpriced coffee was just a tiny bit burnt? The fact that Zixuan had taken a sick day today and so had not brought the soup his wife had promised Jin Guangyao for lunch? It shouldn't be, because these are all so horrifyingly trivial.

He has a tension headache beginning to string itself along his temples. He hates that the receptionist has a perky goodbye ready. He hates that the sun is shining so brightly. Then, he hates that the shadows of the clouds when they pass make things look grungy and dull. He hates that there is a flap of leather from his steering wheel that has peeled up in the back from his picking and he can feel it rubbing against his index finger as he stares, white knuckled and unblinking into the brake lights ahead of him as this bubbling pique crescendos as slowly as one of Xichen's beloved classical music pieces.

In fact, one is playing on the radio, softly, just within hearing range. The quiet, shrill edge of violins makes him want to kill something. Maybe himself. There's a bridge coming up in half a mile. He, very sanely, presses the button on the dash that turns it off instead of doing any of those things. The thought of Xichen has a voice of reason suggesting that he might meditate, while trapped here, 10 minutes from home.

Instead, he jabs a button on his fancy, stupid steering wheel with this thumb. An attentive computer noise beeps. The sudden noise in the relative silence of the car makes him dig his nails into the leather. "Text A-Huan," he snaps.

"Okay! What would you like the message to be?"

Jin Guangyao is going to find whoever programmed this faux-friendly robot voice and make them watch him drown their entire family in a toilet. "I. Hate. Everything."

Beep. "Okay! Your message reads; 'I hate everything'. Send?"

"Yes, send," he seethes before it can fully finish.

There is no plan to this. None at all. He just needs something real to sink his metaphorical teeth into. A reasonable anchor to reality to tell him whether or not he's being stupid and terrible for no reason at all.

Even though he already knows that he is.

The response returns in 43 seconds. Jin Guangyao had been counting. The cheery beep sounds just as the very stale green light turns yellow ahead. He presses the gas. "One message from A-Huan."

The light blinks red while he is only 1/4th of the way through the intersection. The lead car of the adjacent left turners beeps and he bares his teeth at her because he isn't fucking invisible, he's in a high profile gold Lexus and she had definitely seen him fucking coming. He stabs the button that makes the car read him the message.

"'Oh no. Bad day? Want to call? Blue heart emoji'," the female robot voice chirps in a butchery of his husbands words and no, no, he does not, because, at this point, it would simply be a minute long sustained scream of rage over literally nothing at all. He should have kept it to himself and found a quiet place to throw rocks at a wall or something until he wasn't such a repellant time bomb.

He does not reply because if he hears that robot voice again, he's going to commit vehicular homicide. And being arrested would not calm him down.

Finally, traffic parts and he pulls into his driveway--he notices how the bush on the side of the house's branches are creeping up to scrape the window of the kitchen and makes a mental note to send a curt text to the landscaper about his pruning habits. Why are they paying him several hundred dollars a month to let a stupid bush get unruly enough to damage the paint on his window trim?

When he slams his door shut, he hears a loud CLACK that announces that he has just closed his seatbelt in the door and lost the last tenuous thread of his temper. Heaving the door back, he plants his other hand up on the black plastic next to the window and smashes it shut again with all of his strength. Repeatedly. CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK--Chunk.

Breath hissing between his teeth, he jerks his suit jacket straight, loosens his tie and stalks to the house. The garage door groans to life behind him. Xichen had been watching.

Perfect.

He's nowhere to be seen when Jin Guangyao slams through the backdoor like a vicious thundercloud, which is good and probably intentional, because it allows him to wrestle off his shoes, jacket, and tie in privacy. This does nothing to release any pressure, because it must be intentional wrestling--controlled and confined so he doesn't pop off a button or rip a seam or scuff the shining black leather. Now he's seething in their immaculate, state of the art kitchen, hating how the cold tile feels against his black dress socks and the fact that it smells like tea. Which is stupid. Because he likes tea. But not right now.

Stop being a piece of shit, he snarls at himself. You've already probably fucked up the car and Xichen doesn't deserve this. He balls up his fists so tightly that the bright pain from his nails sinking into his palms leaks up his arms. Be better.

He has no idea how to do that because he has no idea what is wrong.

Reason says to steer clear of Xichen until he can get a hold of himself and behave like a fucking adult. And in the early days of their relationship, he would have. He had. Whenever he got like this, he would shut down or not have inflicted himself on Xichen at all with a smooth lie, and no amount of prying would get anything useful out of him because he would not be a bother. There had been Talks. Long, extensive Talks about trust and love and wanting to take care of him. He had even believed some of them. That's how they can be married, now, years later--Xichen knowing just how close he is to this at all times. How thin his veneer of manners and pleasantries actually is. (He can't truly know, though, can he. If he knew how much none of it makes sense, there is no possible way someone as kind and intelligent as him would choose to stay.)

Xichen would purse his lips if he said this out loud; somewhere between exasperation and sad fondness. Jin Guangyao doesn't tell him, anymore. Most of the time because he doesn't actually think this.

This is not most of the time.

Yes, reason says that he should suck it up and become a human being before burdening Xichen.

But his husband has long, cool hands and soft eyes and a brilliant mind that can solve any problem just by holding it and maybe he just wants to be small and angry and ugly and pathetic and selfish in the comfort of his own home while someone reminds him that there have been, in fact, good things that have happened in his life and he had been, at one time, happy--believe it or not.

And if nothing else, it compounds his streak of bad decisions.

The smell of tea intensifies when he reaches their room. The curtains are drawn. It renders the deep, dusty blues of the bed spread and the armchair black and the aged gold accent pieces muted, except for where the warm light pouring from their open bathroom door paints them bright again. Xichen sits on the edge of their bed in the soft, expensive loungewear Jin Guangyao got him for his birthday last year, one ankle on his knee, watching him with eyes just as soft as he had been expecting. A mug of tea is tucked into his hand and a plate with round, lumpy shapes sits by his hip. Beside that lays spread out the absurdly oversized and absurdly soft heather gray shirt that Nie Huaisang had gifted to him as a joke but was, in fact, one of Jin Guangyao's guilty pleasure sleep shirts.

With his perfect voice and his perfect logic and his perfect way of being the only good thing on this entire, worthless planet, his husband says, "I think you need to scream into this pillow."

'This pillow' is, in fact, one of theirs, dark blue with a thread count that was higher than any savings he ever had in college, perched on a bundle of blankets that is the perfect size to throw himself upon like a sulking romance heroine. He hates it. Hates that this is known, that this might help.

So he fucking does it. He deliberately stalks around the bed, climbs up, smashes his face into the pillow and screams as loudly as he can. With every single ounce of rage in his body, curling him up like the shriveling of a raisin in fast forward, like the curling of a scorpion tail, like throwing up, wringing every last scant molecule of oxygen out of his lungs.

When the sound peters out and he has to drag in another breath, he curls tighter, the claws of his hands reaching over the top of the pillow to fist in his hair. It presses the plush of it firmer over his face and bites it until his teeth ring with dull pain, and his jaw aches and his head throbs and his eyes sting. His scalp burns from the pull on his hair and his throat is raw and tight.

Tearing himself away, finally, he gasps in a gulp of cooler air. Xichen has turned so he is now cross-legged at the foot of the bed, watching him with a mix of calm and understanding sympathy. "Lay down?"

There is a ragged, hollow hole in him that still has scraps of rage clinging to it like disgusting lichen--but the visceral, all consuming hate seems to have been absorbed by his pillow. So he lets himself roll sideways, eyes closing. Xichen gets off the bed--Jin Guangyao assumes, wearily, that he's putting down the tea mug and hopes that he uses a coaster--and then returns by knee walking up the bed to his side. Then, those cool hands he had been hoping for pick open the tiny hard buttons of his shirt. Each pop releases a a tension across his skin and he feels that he can breathe easier with every one.

Jin Guangyao can hear him breathing, slow and measured, through his nose and thinks that it's probably the most comforting sound that he's ever heard in his entire life--now that he's willing to be comforted. Able to be. The reminder of Xichen's continued existence is the only sound he will ever need to be calm again.

The button up is abandoned in favor of undoing his belt--breath, more of it, infiltrating him deeper and deeper--popping the button on his slacks, tugging them down his legs in a warm slide. The quiet clink of it being tossed somewhere. A closing quiet as Xichen leans in and presses his smooth lips to his forehead. Then the corner of his eyebrow. Then the bridge of his nose. Different points and planes of his face like he is unlocking a combination that will open him up and allow him to purge the rest of the awfulness that lingers.

What it mostly is is exhaustion, now. "A-Huan," he groans--whines. Ugh.

Before disgust at himself can settle in, his husband takes this as the invitation for what it is and kisses his mouth, gentle and slow. Jin Guangyao moves his mouth back, halfheartedly, mostly parting his lips to allow him access to do whatever. But all he does is kiss him chastely. Lovingly. He tastes like green tea. Then, Xichen murmurs against his lips, "Would you like a bath?"

He vents a negating grunt, lolling his head back and forth. Baths are so much work. Even when Xichen offered to wash his hair or read to him or even join him, you still had to keep it hot, you had to endure cold when you left, get yourself dry. Too much change, too much sensation and movement.

He should be shaking himself awake. He should be apologizing for his terrible, pointless mood. He should be trying to kiss him back, love him back, pay him back. Thank him.

Xichen merely lifts his hands and presses the heels of his palms into the hinges at Jin Guangyao's jaw, inexorably grinding the tension out of them. Jin Guangyao allows himself to melt. When those cool fingertips slide into his hair, he lets them tug him upright, so Xichen can slide off his button up and slip him out of his undershirt. He shivers against the chill of the bedroom air, but he doesn't feel a surge of utter hatred for the sensations so, well, that's something. In no time, Xichen has coaxed him into the oversized shirt, removed his socks and bundled him up against the padded headboard, tucked into Xichen's side.

Jin Guangyao allows this. He allows himself to allow the blanket to be tugged up over his bare legs, Xichen to tuck the warm mug of steaming mint tea into his hands, and wind his fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep, shuddering breath before sighing it all out. Xichen's fingers rub soothing circles across his sore scalp.

"Open?"

He cracks one eye to see a cookie hovering at mouth level. It's too dim in the room to properly tell what kind it is, but because Xichen has been perfect in literally every other way, he simply obeys and bites down. Browned butter and sea salt and semi-sweet chocolate ooze across his tongue and the instant spike of sugar satisfaction warms his chest. Jin Guangyao chews with utter contentment, swallows, and opens his mouth again.

"Good?" Xichen's amused voice vibrates warmly through his chest as he indulgently feeds him another bite.

"Mm. Very. Did you make them?"

"I did, earlier today. I just got lucky with the timing." His nails scrape oh so gently across his scalp. "How are you doing?"

Instead of answering, Jin Guangyao blinks up at him and his sweet, kind, ridiculously gorgeous face that is graced by a light smile and a gold edge light from the bathroom.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Being terrible."

"You're never terrible."

"I was today. I think I fucked up the car."

Xichen chuckles, smile crimping to a knowing press. "I saw. It won't be a big deal. We'll deal with it later."

"...Thank you."

"Of course, A-Yao. Do you still hate everything?"

"Mm-nn." He snuggles down deeper against his ribs, looping an arm around Xichen's warm waist. He has the best husband in his arms, his dark-sweet scent is in his nose, chocolate on his tongue, and 1000 count sheets against his skin.

What is there to hate?

[cazimagines]

Hi Cazzy 🥺💞 first off congratulations on 900 followers!! You deserve it honey! :)

As for that celebration! I’m in such an angsty mood so I was wondering if I may please request a drabble with this prompt form the angst list “having to watch your lover die, as you’re restrained by the antagonist, unable to fight your way out of their grip, yet your eyes are glued on your lover’s” & with Helmut Zemo. Thanks!! :) 💛

Thank you so much! You were one of the first friends I made on here and so I am so happy to still hear from you, and of course I just adore your writing! Thank you for the request, I've been looking forward to writing angst for a while now 😊💞

You smiled in contentment as you felt the warm embrace, how his arms snaked around your waist, the sweet smell of his cologne washing over you and the gentle kiss he places upon the side of your face.

"I love thee with a love that shall not die, till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old"

You hmmm in thought at Zemo's words, your eyes closed to appreciate the moment of it all.

"Shakespeare?" you say, trying to place where you had heard it before.

"Alas not, it is from 'Bedouin love song' by one Bayard Taylor. You shouldn't assume simply because it as 'thee' in it, that it is Shakespeare"

You pull away from Zemo's embrace, playfully slapping him on the chest as you giggled.

"That's not fair!" you remark, "How am I supposed to know where every little quote comes from, I don't read obscure things just to make myself seem better than everyone else"

Zemo grips the hand you had slapped his chest with and held it tightly, tugging you back to him so you were only inches away from his smirking face.

"But we are better than everyone"

With that, he pushes his lips onto yours and you melt into his embrace. Your hands reach up to clutch the fur collar of his coat, pulling his body as close to yours as you could manage. His hands trail down to your ass, cupping them and giving a little squeeze.

You squeak into the kiss making a chuckle rumble in Zemo's throat.

Eventually, when you two have to pull back for breath, you lean your forehead upon his, both your eyes closed as you pant.

"I've missed you all these years Zemo" you whisper to him, and as he opened his eyes again, you can see the sorrow and pain that was within them.

"I'm never leaving you again y/n"

"Do you promise?"

He lets out a little huff of laughter, "I pinky promise"

You smile at him look into his bright eyes, but slowly they darken before you, a paid expression coming over his face.

"Zemo?" you question, confused at the sudden change.

Something upon your arms tighten, like hands holding you yet you couldn't see anything. It hurt though, the pressure was painful upon you. Glancing back from your arms Zemo had turned deathly pale, and a trail of blood had started to fall from his nose.

"Zemo!?" you screamed out as sudden light started to surround your vision. A buzzing noise surrounded you, making you cringe in pain, your eyes shut momentarily.

When you opened them again, the surrounding had changed. People in suits swarmed you, all shouting at each other commands, laughing maniacally. You could feel clearly now a pair of hands at twisted your arms, holding them behind your back in a painful position that you were sure if you attempted to struggle, you would dislocate your arm. The person's warm breath was upon your neck, making you shiver in disgust.

"Come back to the living have we darling?" the voice growled, and it made you shiver due to how it was a woman's voice.

"Who knew with one blow you would collapse so easily"

The ringing sound in your ear, the dull ache on the side of your face suddenly makes a lot more sense to you, but still, your memory of what was happened and what had happened was completely fuzzy.

"Don't hurt her!" you hear a voice yell, and instantly your voice snapped up, recognising it straight away.

Your eyes focused on Zemo who was being forced down onto his knees, his arms, similar to you, were pulled behind him. His coat was torn, gashes of ripped open fabric on the back, part of the fur collar were pulled off and the part that remained was soaked in blood. His face was white, but blood dripped out of his nose, running down his face and he had a bruise forming by his eye. Still, he was thrashing in their grip, trying to fight his way out of it.

"She has nothing to do with this!" he yelled, teeth bare, seething.

The woman behind you tutted at him, her grip on you getting stronger making you whimper.

"Well now Zemo, you were the one who brought her along with you and your little friends, thinking you could fool me out of information"

"It wasn't a lie Selby" he tried to say but as he claimed it, one of the men holding him down on his knees lifted his fist as collided it with Zemo's face, instantly making his face snap to the side with a sickening crunch.

Zemo groaned in pain as you cried out for him, and slowly he spat out from blood and a tooth that had been knocked out of his mouth.

Now tears were streaming down your cheeks as you desperately tried to get out of Selby's grasp to rescue him, to help him, to do something. Your heart was breaking to see him so much in pain and you not being able to do anything.

"Don't lie to me Zemo" she says harshly, and then one of her hands leaves your arm to grasp your hair, pulling it was a force making you scream out in pain. "You wouldn't want to see your lovely bird in pain now would you?"

"Stop, stop" he murmured, his brain aching from the pain but in hearing your screams his voice picked up.

"Stop!" he yelled, tears swarming in his eyes as he looked back at you, antagonized to see you in pain.

"We run a very strict business here Zemo, and you broke the rules"

One of the men holding Zemo's arms behind him, raised his boot and placed it upon his back, slowly adding pressure forcing Zemo to be pushed to the ground while the man still held his arms up. Zemo yelled at the strain put upon his arms, his face scrunching up as he tried to steady himself. Yet the man continued to push down on Zemo and pull onto his arms until there was a loud pop, and Zemo's screams echoed across the room loudly.

His body spasmed from the overwhelming pain, his mouth opened wide as he screamed, blood-stained spit coming out of it, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head because of it, how his arms now hung loosely within the man's grip till his body slummed as he passed out.

That wasn't any fun to Selby however, who frowned at the Baron's limp form and the way your sobs make your body rack in her arm. Nodding to her men, they pulled Zemo's body up again, holding it so now he faced you, his head rolled forward but as they put some salts under his nose, it slowly pulled him out of his unconscious form.

One man grasped Zemo's hair and pulled his face up again, so he could do nothing but stare at you as you cried out for him, and though, in a daze, his heart was breaking at the sight.

Another man pulled up his gun and placed it upon the side of the Baron's head, pushing harshly into his clammy skin.

"No!" you screamed, desperately trying to pull yourself out of Selby's grasp. "Please! Don't! I'll do anything, anything, please"

Zemo desperately tried to shake his head at you, tears within his eyes from the pain but trying to warn you not to say something like that, but Shelby chuckled, gripping your jaw to force you to stop talking.

"You think you have a choice in what happens to you little bird. Look at your husband, he can't help you any longer, and your 'friends' are long gone. You are at the mercy of us, and we will force you to do anything, whether you want to or not"

Your eyes latch onto Zemo's again, and they were swarmed by pain, but most of all defeat.

"Execute him" Selby orders and you scream out one last time in panic, fear, heartbreak.

His eyes held yours, desperate to tell you all the things he couldn't say to you, how much he loved you, how much he had missed you and was thankful he had these last few days to be with you one last time, how worried he was for you. How much he adored you.

"I'm never leaving you again y/n"

"Do you promise?"

"I pinky promise"

You tried to close your eyes as you heard the gunshot out, but as Selby pulled your hair again you were forced to open them, forced to see his body slump to the floor, forced to see the blood pool out onto the floor and he laid motionless. You could hardly tell it was him from the way his head was now, covered in skin and blood. The face you had once loved, the lips that had kissed you passionately only a few hours ago, gone, ruined.

You screamed, you cried, your thrashed out as your heart was destroyed.

Selby held you there for a few minutes, wanting to get the dead body of your husband ingrained in your mind before she finally had you pulled away from his body, never to see him again.

The sun had grown cold and the stars had become old.

A/N: Might have gone a bit overboard with this one, but I just love angst so uh, sorry everyone, have a cookie 🍪

[blissfulparker]

COWBOY DAD TOM TEACHING HIS KIDS HOW TO RIDE A HORSE OR CARE FOR SOME THING ON THE FARM AND READER JUST IS SO HAPPY AND AHHHHHHH

The house was quiet when you woke up. The bed was also empty. Knowing Tom, he had to be up early in the morning for the animals but having two kids never meant peace for either of you.

With worry laced through your mind as your eldest boy was not in his room and your little girl missing, you quickly throw on some clothes to rush outside hoping to find them there.

Outside was exactly where you found them, your son who was no older than five tended to chickens whilst Tom held and bounced your three month old.

“Now careful bubs, they won’t bite so don’t be scared but they do get excited!” He warns.

It was a sight that warmed your heart. Tom bouncing your girl while teaching the boy to do things on the farm. Your son was always excited to help, feeling just like his dad when he did.

“They won’t bite, they like me!” Your boy calls out to his dad and you smiled from the door as you started to walk over to them.

“Good morning.” You smile as you greet tom with a kiss on the cheek and gently bring your hand down to stroke your little girls cheek.

“Morning, Angel.” He smiled as he kissed your lips just barely before looking back to make sure nothing has happened in the pen.

“And he is…” you start and Tom smiles.

“Up before me so he can help with the animals, promised him he was able to get up on buttercup before lunch.” He gave you a smile and you only smiled back.

“Well, I love that my boys are excited and love their farm but I will say I was a little disappointed I never got my morning cuddles and kisses from them.” You teased and Tom only leaned his body against you as reassurance that he was there.

Before anymore words were shared between you and Tom, your son came running over excited with an empty pal as he was all finished.

“Mummy! Look! Daddy let me help him this morning!” He gave a big smile, one tooth already missing and you gladly pick him up to kiss his cheek.

“He did? How exciting! How about I go get started on breakfast, you need to come in and eat at one point.” You kissed his cheek and set him down. He only ran off to do the next thing and you held your arms out for your calm babygirl.

“I have no excuse for why she’s out here, guess I just thought you’d wanna sleep in. Plus, she’s gotta watch and learn too. I’m getting old babe I can’t be bending over every day for this place.” He places his hand over his lower back and pretends he’s aching.

“Alright, alright, well whenever my old man wants to come in…breakfast will be ready. Make sure you—“ you start but he already knows what to say.

“—watch him when he gets up on buttercup, I will don’t worry. She’s a gentle horse.” He promised as he kissed your cheek and leaning down to kiss your babies cheek too before going off to your son.

From the kitchen window you are able to watch the boys run around and laugh in the farm. Able to see how excited your boys gets to feed the animals and let them run around for a bit. Your little girl coos from her seat and you look over at her with a sigh.

“That’ll be you one day darling, don’t worry.” You smiled at her before going over to kiss her cheek.

You never thought that your life would be so perfect on a farm, with a man who views his horse as one of your children and actual human children of your own. A peaceful life on the country side was all yours.

[muffindaddystyles]

𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑁𝐺 & 𝐵𝐸𝐴𝑈𝑇𝐼𝐹𝑈L 

A oneshot of how you two met in the beautiful city of Italy, how Harry finds you an Angel descended from heaven above that took his hand and became his light. Dad!harry full of fluff..oh yeah dad!harry nation lets rise. .Part two of tooth rotting dad harry of it is here too. young and beautiful (II)

It's Saturday night. Harry and you intentionally have no plans but to loaf around in your guys cosy homely space. The candles flames with rośe tranquilness, the intro to movie watched many times together rolling in. Both of you are snuggled onto large body sucking sea-green velvet couch infront of telly.

His daddy long legs nestled atop your hip hooking around your ankle protecting you from falling if possible (moreso the fact he's extremely protective of you in your pregnancy.) His one elbow snaked around your collarbones which are now hiding underneath soft swelling, his sweater pawed arm sheltering around your huge eight months baby bump slender tender fingers tucked underneath your side.

You relaxes into him, back pressed to his tanned chest and with his chin resting atop your hair whenever he rasped out something it bobbed your whole head.

"Yeh' kay, baby? comfy?" He asks you for the hundredth time now caressing and stroking your chin, then earlobes, collarbones to your belly and the list goes on. It's one of his habits that he doesn't realizes himself more as ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒. Harry's love language's physical contact, lots and lots of them. He finds calm in touching you here and there, raking his palms without them knowing their destination. He's cuddly and clingiest when drunk. Although, he has stopped drinking since you both are expecting but the clingy part of him jumped out during this period his only excuses are "wanna stay close to me' three babies." Or "i feel empty when you're even a bit away from me." 

"'M lover, stop worrying." You bring his jaw down with the tip of your pointer finger to kiss his lips gently with a tilt of your chin. He mumbles an anxious "cant." in your mouth running his thumb under the curve of your womb with amiable affection.

You hiss into his mouth when one of your bubba kicks you with ever most force and he pushes away with amused eyes, when he felt the kick against his palm. It's not like it's his first but everything related to his unborn babies muse him to utter excitement and tears of joy.

He shifts a tad resting his a little scruffy cheek against your silken naked bump, you're wearing one of his crotched zinc orange crop top and it bunched up your belly in very much likeness of Harry, he thinks you look so endearingly sexy he could make you use him as many times you want. His ear tucked under the crescent of your chest, "feels like jus' a barrier of skin between us." He bubbles his accent and you smile down at him infectiously. Meanouvering your fingers into his chestnut curls and massaging his scalp that made his eyelids futter into bliss.

There was another visible kick and Harry smoothed down the skin eyes shinning up at you, "a footy champ this one." You sucked your bottom lip trying not break into fits of laughter because from the weight your pelvis muscles has become weak and you end up leaving wet tiny splotches most of the time. First time you had it was two months ago you were fucking embarrassing and couldn't stop crying right after an hour of genuine laugh ofcourse caused by Harry when you guys shopped for babies and he wore that one onesie on his head being all goofy and child of two while expecting two himself.

"How're meh' baby girls. meh' bunnies." He smauched loud wet kisses all over your belly making slobbery snuggly voices to annoy you. You tug at his roots whining loudly because you know the undeniable loving scene of Harry talking to his two daughters will bring you to tears all because of stubborn hormones. Yes, two!

While you weren't even expecting a pregnancy, God said wait for my bumper surprise.

Everyone told your bump looks healthier than normal pregnancies but you ignored it until the day of gender check-up. Harry was ecastatic, fist pumping the air, bouncing with your hands intervined tears bloodshot in his eyelines. So were you...but you had a huge breakdown on the wooden floor of your home's threshold. You were blabbering thousand questions to him, body shaking and fighting to breath.

"I...I can't do this, Harry...too much 's too much." You cried to him that day. But he cradled your face into his calloused palms his temple kissed yours, "ye' can, my sweet girl. we can. wish I could bear one of our baby bunny, it's sad that I cant help ye'. But, it's my promise to be there for you forever and always." He leaned down to kiss you with so much love, more love he was keeping to himself ever since and more more love he can't put into words.

He comes back from your belly to leave a feathery kiss on your lips that makes you yearn for him more and settles back to his previous position, his face shoved into the crook of your neck and he presses kisses to the corner of your lips while your eyes remains glued to telly.

As Sally and Harry bickered in the car you chuckled softly fingers tracing his nose and the mole sheltered under it, "remember how we met?" His breath fanned tickling your cheek heartily when he shook his head with a giddy giggle.

"How could I not? Yeh' were a honey pot and a weepy mess after tha'." He scrunches his nose at you adorably reminiscing the night and series of nights after that.

"It was your fault mister." You twitch your lips turning to his side with his help and his hand sprawled at your back instinctively. "Ye' souvenired t' give a lonely guy like me some company, first." He smiles when you huffed. His beam getting joyously wider when your belly pressed tightly against his's and he kisses your forehead multiple times.

"Who thought that guy escapin' from Gucci's biggest event could be a dad of two girls." You quip playing with his neckline and his chest rumbled with a titter that sent you to cloud nine.

"Not me at all. But, if I could meet him back in time I'll tell him how lucky he's gonna be, how happy he'll be, that he doesn't needs to be a grumpy daddy when he could be a real happy one." His eyes are glassy and you cupped his cheeks placing your lips atop his into a feverish kiss of gentleness.

~𝐹𝑎𝑙𝑠ℎ𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 2015~

Gucci's spring festive on full blossom in the most popular old city of Italy, Milan. It's luxurious in all it's glory. A-list celebrities and world claimed most beautiful models. The hall clattered and shushed with talks, rumours, gossips and greets. Then it's fashion and tailored-fitted clothes, formal gowns. Fake smiles. Cold hearts.

On the long dinning table piled with food that sometimes's too difficult to pronounce Harry sat along with Kendall Jenner. His ex-girlfriend and a friend for now. She talks excitedly with the person infront of her snarling rude remarks here and there. Her hand came squeezing his thigh under the table that startled him from his imaginary world. A world where he's at peace, the luxuries doesn't exist and he's nothing but a normal person.

"Huh, love?" He kinks his brows together fiddling with the napkin in his lap and she gave him a furious pout for not giving her full attention, "I was pointing out how fast-fashion brands are shit." She rolls her eyes. Harry can't believe her bratty arse. He shrugged his thigh with a tad more harshness to get rid of her touch.

"Dunno. No' everyone could afford luxury brands." At this the model infront of them cackled more in her mock and sniffed to be polite in the fake hush of the room. Harry's eyes turned glassy and the jade in the murky to the visible irritation at their behaviour. His expressions dark and unreadable under the very less light.

Quiffing his long hickorey curls back he nibbed at his pointer finger's knuckle only to bend it under his chin afterwards, "'m serious." Kendall sighs loudly at this clearly annoyed by the way he's acting and the model infront of him gave him a 'whatever makes you sleep at night.' look and a shrug of her shoulders in arrogance while eating her steak.

Enough. Harry thinks with a grumble struck in his chest. He rakes the chair back that drew some attention but it drifted to some person sharing their experience and all that shit talk again on the loop.

Harry's guard followed him behind pushing the paparazzi away. Flashes in his eyes. Made up assumptions to his ears and shoved up opinions to his chest. He's sick. From all of this. He wants to shout to no-one in particular but himself, he wants an escape. He wants it with his every bleeding cell.

Then he takes a curt turn with a whiplash of his torso to dark alley beside the building from which he just exited and when he reached the end it was blocked by a brick wall so he jumped with ease to other side, his expensive boots scruffing against the gravel. He gave no care to the guard behind him.

He was in a local less populated street. Wider with the bumpy stones and there were people indeed but nobody paid him heed.

He sat on the concrete bench. Flinging his one leg over another hand gripping near his crotch and with a relieved huge exhale of breath he took his phone out going through it. After, so long he feels like he's a free dove who could breath free escaping from it's cage.

He's broken. Empty and in the rough path of his life. He doesn't know how to cope with it. It makes him fuckin' insane.

There's an ice-cream cart few steps away from where he's sitting alone onto bench. His head snaps at the beautiful giggle bouncing through the tangerine sky. He squints his eyes to get a better look of the group of friends crowding near the cart and licking onto their ice-creams.

Your white cotton dress furled with a wave of zephyr and the loose errand of your hair slipping from your low bun cascading around your face while you gave a belly ache laugh to one of your tall friend bopping his nose at his silliness.

Harry stares at the interaction of young people. They're just like him but looks more happy and youthful then why couldn't he?

His eyes are set on a certain figure and that's you still hidden from him as your friend Mona blocked the sight of your perfect view to Harry nudging your ribs.

"Is that Harry Styles." Jo mutters when his eyes fell over him and then he bashfully hisses, "don't look back! Don't look back. You guys are being too specific." Considering yourself stupid you spinned to have an ethereal sight of Harry sitting all by himself on the cold bench, his carved features glowing with the illumination of his phone screen still unlocked while he got distracted by you people.

"Doesn't feels like he's enjoying himself." Mona quipped taking a large swipe of her cold delight. None of them too interested in his wear abouts.

Call it clićhe but you don't have any thought in your mind before you're asking for an ice-cream cone from the ice-cream man heading towards him with your hands occupied with two.

Harry's breath hitching in his palpalating heart at the complete sight of you, for sore eyes for sure. His nerves jittery and knee bouncing in restlessness as you approaches him with a sweet grin. He takes in your complete look. White flowy dress and nude sandals, loop earrings and the bright red lipstick resembling the blood gush of his heart. 'Less is more' making you appear so beautiful.

Harry's so lost in his own brain wrecking that he forgot where you went but you rounds him from behind flinging your left leg on the other side of bench to sit on it with your legs on either side of it, he again startles getting off-guard hastily turning to face you when you tapped his shoulder.

Licking your own vanilla sweetness you forwarded the cone to him a sweet sheepish smile on your glowing hearty features. His body guard instantly changed his position to stop you but Harry gave him a stink eye accepting your offer shyly. Your cheeks heating even in the mild temperature when his supple fingers brushed yours.

"Thank you." His voice timid wiping the corners of his heart shaped lips but you just shrugged your shoulders leaning back with your hand pressed against the bench, "no problem. you're welcome." Harry gazes at your collarbones prodding from the flimsy fabric of your v-line then he shifted his gaze down to his Gucci loafers telling himself not to be a pervert. It's just you're too delicate that he can't stop admiring.

"I like your suit." You compliments him with glinting eyes and his cheeks flushed with shyness mumbling a "thank you." Under his erratic breath.

His eyes flutters and tummy flips when you bring your hand closer to him taking the sleeve of his jacket tugging at it, "it's too graphic you know...in a good way." He finds it endearing that you were this engulfed in just the design of his suit and when you tilt your chin peering up at him, he feels like his brain stopped functioning. He nods eyes still locked to yours and when he sense some coldness dripping down his thumb he quickly ducks down to lick it off causing his sculpted cheek to stroke against your silken ones in utter gentleness.

You gulp timidly sitting back straighter.

"So...? For what stuff you're here for Harry?" He loves the way his name sounds mellow coming from you. He clears his throat unwinding his long legs to stretch them wide and it nudged yours sending jolts to both of you, "uh, 'm 'ere fo' Gucci event." You beam at this shifting closer to him.

"I like the way it sounds comin' from you." He cackles at this running his fingers to tame his matte curls.

His tense demeanor slipping bringing his shy, timid and goofball ones exposed to you. He's himself surprised that all the built up frustration in his nerves drained away from your presence.

Being an art major and a fashion geek you asks him with ferverishness patting his knee, "what was it like? I've heard it's mesmerising." He chuckles at this. He wanna scoff because a sweet girl like you wouldn't last a second there.

"'S okay. I guess." He elevates his shoulder in bored expression and when the ice-cream swipes at the tip of his nose you giggled bunching forward to his side. He smiles down at you squinting his eyes narrow in an accuse.

"And what yer' here fo'? Wait yeh from here?" You bite the waffled cone chewing it. Words muffling with a full mouth, "having a trip with my University's friends. I live in London though. I really really wanted to see Milan. So, here I'm." You make an innocent childish face raising your arms in air to show him and his heart's soothing to peace with every homely action you'd pull to make him relaxe.

Then there was silence that Harry was unaware how to break. He could hear you talking for an eternity. On the other hand you aren't that akward to make conversations with people. No doubt you're shy, and wants your own space to blossom but this one habit of yours is inseparable.

"You know when back home. An ice-cream man would come daily at midnight in summers. Me and my cousins would climb up his bicycle cart like darn monkeys. Pop our heads inside the freezer and annoy the fuck outta him. God I miss home." There's this un-pointable feeling. That's unfigurative to Harry but it's there; of admiration and of endearment. His heart's at cloud nine caressing itself to the pink cotton candy.

His heart reaches out for you from his ribcages as the homesickness glistered in your irises. You weren't obliged to talk to him, to give him company but you still did beacuse beautiful accidents and coincidence happen in the admist of rushed streets.

Harry parted his lips to talk to you more but he has nothing, his life's not unknown by anyone and the normal scenarios of people entertains him so much.

His head snaps when you grin widely at him throwing the last and best of cone inside your mouth. Your small pretty mouth chewing like a rabbit and Harry wants to have a touch, just some to shush the fire in his stomach.

His head snapping when you yelled to children that were skipping on rope waving to them, "hey kiddos! Wanna have some ice-cream!?" They all left their play of galloping running towards you. Harry looks at you wide eyes eating his last bits away.

"Our hotel gave us a coupon for free ice-creams." You laugh standing up and he wants to catch you by wrist to stop you going away from him but when you squeeze his shoulder leaning to whisper in his ear chills ran down by his spine, "will be right back." He swallows thickly nodding eyes trailing to you as you collects all the little fellas to cart.

He watches you. Is she an Angel? A mirage to help him out of his anxiousness? Or a smoke in his mind that'll disappear soon? He thinks picking on his nails. He's not ready to step out of the calm bubble you created so delicately around him. Only if life could be this easier.

He rolls his eyes playfully sucking his lips inside his mouth when he sees you paying extra for more. He looks back to his body-guard. Maybe you didn't noticed him or cares less but Harry's kinda annoyed that he has to be here in such a happy vulnerable moment of his life.

"Thank you nice lady!" Harry chuckles gleefully when all of the kids thanked her licking onto their sweets. "It's okay kids, be careful before I take them back."

Shaking your head you strides back to Harry coming to stand infront of him. You can fit perfectly between his legs if he opened them wider for you, that desireful thought swooshed through his mind but he shakes it away.

"Thank ye' nice lady." He squeaks in high teasing pitch standing up and your eyes widened when he literally towered you fully. Your height differences funny even you're in heels.

"Not you now." You declared with blushed cheeks. His irirses glinted when you fumbled with the sides of your dress.

"So...this's it?" You ask him peering up at him with such gooeness he could whimper. Shivers running down your body as the weather turned rather more chill.

"This's it.." Harry whispers. He feels what? a lump of wetness in his throat? He's at the brink though.

"Thank you for bearing my monkey ass." You guffawed out but he has serenity in his eyes. He thins his lips. "I should be the one to say thanks."

He was taken aback when you hugged him running soothing circles at his back. He inhales your tangerine vanilla scent embracing you fully now. If he could freeze the time he would in a snap. He feels like he's all the way back home after travelling shallow through the whole world.

"It's gonna be alright, whatever it's Harry. It'll be alright. You're gonna be alright. It gets bumpy but you still have so much for you." Harry wants to cry in some strangers arms. He feels so defeated and tired. But, the determination and affirmation in your voice made him think opposite. He'll do it. He can do it.

He didn't let you go first. You untageled yourself from him gently swaying on your feet, taking a step back and he couldn't blink his eyes away from you as you bit your crimson lip.

You take steps away from him eyes still locked to his jade ones and he calls you out through the breeze looking for passing by cars if possible because you're standing in the middle of street.

"Hey, stranger!!!" You tilt your chin in a questioning and shake your head at his lopsided cheshire smile, "forgot t' tell ye'r name!" He yells out in rushed anticipation and anxiousness as if he'd loose you if any minute ticks by.

Goosebumps appears at your bare legs from the chill, "Y/N. Y/L/N." Then you spin around raising your hand high atop your head waving it for Harry.

"Ba-bye. Harry." You says loudly but it doom vacuumed to emptiness once you step inside your hotel's lobby leaving Harry at his own sake again.

Standing still at his spot. Hands shoved into his trouser's pocket and long spiral curls framing his sculpted features he watches you with a furrow of his brows from the glass of hotel. His frown getting deeper when you threw your head back laughing when you bumped into your friend who was coming to find you, you caught his wrist eyes widening at something funny he said and Harry sighs thinking maybe you're just this kind and generous and that he's not a special case in your book.

With an exhausted sigh he makes his way towards his bodyguard who gives him a side mishevious eye, "happy now, Styles?" Harry jabs a shove to his bulky shoulder playfully lips twitching and eyes narrowing, "oh shut up!" His mood more lightened and gleeful than his previous one thanks to you.

***

Next day when Kendall and her friend dragged Harry to fancy the local streets of Milan. Harry had a less scowling face than before. They stopped infront of some shop to buy bagels that someone bumped right square into Harry's back making him stumble a little.

It's you. Rushing out of a pharmacy. Harry's gaze trails from your toe to head and his lips parts in surprise. The whole past night in his lonely hotel bedroom you were his dream of heart and the stubborn thought of his mind while the thump of after party going downstairs kept him occupied and fainted the erratic pace of his heart. Then his brows kink in worry and concern at the grueling sight of you.

You're in a pink sweater and pyjamas. Eyes glassy. Cheeks flushed and blazing. Nose running and hair poking out in every direction. He takes a gentle step towards your astonished figure brewing fingers reaching out to hold you but when you keeps a distance from him his heart falls in his arse, and when you cough in your elbow he realizes that you're maybe cold or having a fever.

"You okay, love?" He asks you. Voice that of honey and panic dripping from his features. You gives him a big smile bobbing your head quickly and he have an urgency not to roll his eyes at you. Because you don't seem okay from any angle!

"'M just having a tiny cold it's not that worrisome." Harry's eyes pops out from his socket at your voice. It's groggy and hoarse not that sweet warm honey that was fusing in his ears last night. "Y/N. You can barely speak, are you sure you're okay?" You try to give him a small smile at his care but it got suppressed by another throat tearing cough. Poor little thing. Harry fawns looking down at you.

At this he abruptly saturates the distance between you two, "note me' number, darlin'. Promise me you'd call me if you feel too sick." You give a glance to his two friends coming by to stand beside him.

"Hi." You greet them in hoarseness and they wince when you forward your hand for a shake making you feel ashamed and embarrassed of your politeness when they didn't accepted it. Harry jaw ticks in furiousness as he glares them it's all adding up to push his nerves now.

He takes your shivering hand with an arch of his brow to his friends in challenging sterness noting down his phone number at your palm. You give him a soft "okie." and a "thank you." waving him and his friends a good-bye. He notices that you're not someone to hold grudges against someone. He knows that Kendall's behaviour throws people off but you didn't seem to mind it too much.

"Who was she Harry?" Kendall asks him chewing onto her bagel. Harry shrugs not keen to spill any precise details, "someone I met last night."

She tries to scrape more from him. "How?" Harry closes his eyes tugging at his roots not ready to snap at her.

Harry thinks many times to say the right words so that she'd shut up but still ends up saying something that infuriated her ego and mock, "she offered me ice-cream—" Her friend scoffs perking his head.

"Mate you're nuts for accepting something from a stranger." Logically yes. But you meant no harm to him. Your eyes were truthful and shined with sincerity.

Harry stays silent walking inside their hotel. The hostess asks them if they'd like to have a brunch.

On the other hand you climbed up the stairs to your room with a lazy gait. Your lungs burning. Once inside your room. You takes your medicine with a shivering body and minus energy to even raise your finger. You want to cry but you give a pep talk to yourself that you're a brave girl squishing yourself in your bed, hiding under three blankets.

There's bright sun outside but still you're feeling like someone placed you atop Antarctica's glacier snatching every clothing item from you. Your friends are all out and you wish you could have them. You hate being sick and alone.

When you woke up again. You felt horrible. Feeling like a truck crushed you underneath itself. When you tried to sit up, you fell back a reckless painful sob erupting from your lungs as with wavering fingers you massaged your sweaty forehead. The sheets under you drenched into sweat and hotness. Panic rising in your chest as your vision blurred with blackness so you dialed Harry's number immediately in the fear someone should be with you in case you faint.

"He—" He was cut off with your loud crying. The fork in his hand clanking against the sleek plate gaining everyone's attention. "'S okay. 'M comin'. I'll be there in no time love." He speaks hastily telling his bodyguard not to follow him with a gesture of his hand while striding to his car in big steps.

"Y/N. Darlin'? Yeh' there?" He asks you with his chest tightening with anxiety when the other end of line was dead as grave, "'m, i'm." Your breath spurts into coughs and Harry sighs sympathetically at your condition. It took him fifteen minutes to reach your hotel.

"Which room?" None of you noticed that the phone was still on line. You were half conscious cheeks soaked and smashed into silk pillow case. "Room number, sweets?" He asks you patiently running through different floors to take care of you as soon as possible.

"2-234.." You stutter. Harry halts in the middle of corridor snapping his head everywhere your room was three rooms away from him.

"Can yeh' stand up for me and unlock the door for meh? Can yeh do that sweet girl?" Harry's standing at your door and your sob muffles into your arm when you shake your head in denial. Luckily the door was unlocked.

"Stupid girl." Harry mutters under his breath pressing the red button when he finally tumbles inside your room. He wants to scold you for not caring for your safety when you're sick, fragile and barely able to stand up.

His heart grips into a knot when you turn to your side. The girl he was with last night long gone. Your lips blue and wobbling. Cheeks red and wet. Sweat sheening. Your body shaking. You could be barely seen from under the layers of blankets.

"Oh sweet girl. 'm so sorry." The mattress dips under his weight and he hovers over you taking you in his arms instantly. Squeezing you tight and warm, it feels good so you cuddles your face into the crook of his neck. He gasps when his hand glides down your back and finds it pooling with so much sweat, and you burning like sun outside.

"You're burnin' love." He says with wide eyes cautiously smoothing his hand at your back to make you feel better.

"It hurts, Harry." Harry pulls you from your shoulders rolling his thumb in the dips to massage them, "where?" Your chest rumbles with another whimper as you bolt your eyes shut.

"Everywhere."

He inquires further and you give a drowsy moan when he expertly massages your shoulders and arms, "did you take your medicine?" You nod at this head falling against his chest and if he wouldn't be so worried about your condition his tummy would've flipped so hard.

"And did yeh' ate somethin' befo' that?" When you shake your head in rejection he again pulls you back looking down at you in offend and shock.

"Y/N..." He warns you with a tough expression. Then he cups your cheeks making you look at him even though your eyes are closed he scolds you strictly, "Y/N you should be kind to yourself too."

"Now. 'M gonna take ye' to hospital." He announces and you squirm away from his grip shaking your head like a child. You hate hospitals.

"Y/N..don't be difficult darlin'." Only if he knew he has to deal with this his whole life. As you try to speak your words swallows back when he snakes his arms under your armpits making you stand up.

"No buts. Look at ye'. Yer condition will worsen if yeh' keep refusin' to go." With your whole weight over his side he makes you sit in the passenger seat, stroking your cheek with his knuckles giving you a reassuring smile and rounding to his driver side.

He keeps on checking you through the whole drive. You're still high on fever when he places his palm at the curve of your neck then at your forehead tsking when you moaned in pain, "'s gonna be alright." He rubs your knee trying to give you a smile through his own anxiousness.

They checks you in the ER. The doctor notes your symptoms on his notepad and Harry gazes you in full concentration sitting right beside you, he has your fingers laced with his's and he's continuously rubbing your back to provide you with any warmth.

"I've a very low immune system since I had a tonsillectomy when I was nine. Had an ice-cream last night and quite often I know I get sick in this season." You toy with his silver rings carelessly. Harry admires you. Dunno why. He just do. Because he thinks he might be falling for the way you talk, you behave and try to remain polite in every circumstances.

"Miss Y/N since you've your tonsils removed your coping mechanism from bacteias's less and you've caught a pneumonia." Your head immediately turns to look at Harry and when he sees that fear in your eyes he unwinds his hand from yours leaning to take your chin, "hey...hey lovie'. It's okay you'll heal in a week."

The doctor hands the prescription to Harry. The next thing he announces makes you sob like a five years old, "no. no. no." You shake your head shrinking back and Harry gives the doctor a sheepish akward smile stroking your hair.

Doctor sighs at your behaviour leaving at last, "the nurse will be here soon to give you injections."

Harry quickly stands up shutting the large curtain that's around the stretcher bed you both are sitting at as soon as he comes back you wrap your hands around his forearm. He hisses when you dig your nails to his flesh your tears dropping at his wrists.

"I don't like needles. I loathe them. They scare me." You sniffle and Harry ducks to your level metting your glossy gaze. He caress your head kissing your hair, "you're so brave. I know it. It would just be a pinch. Ye' can squeeze the fuck outta my hand if yeh want to." He has his fingers tucked under your earlobes as he again and again wipes your tears.

The nurse comes to you shutting the curtains behind her. She's old lady in age and observes the couple infront of her. Well, for her you both are looking like one.

You immediately move back to Harry's side as he's sitting now with his front infront of you, "scared of needles." Harry tells her timidly in a low voice puffing his cheeks a bit in gentility.

Harry saps his opal teeth into his lower lip when you wrapped your elbow around the nape of his neck bringing him down closer to you and your face shoved to his chest near his armpit. His other arm wrapping around your waist to flush you closer to him. He tries to drift your attention to himself whispering sweet nothings into your ear and the nurse awes applying alcohol where she has to inject the needle.

"'S okay. We're gonna get home after this, have some soup, will take a nap, watch some telly...." He smoothes his hand over your spine grasping it softly. You stiff in his genial hold twitching and hissing loudly when the needle was poked and pushed into your delicate skin. His white shirt's completely soaked into your tears now but he doesn't give two fucks.

"Just two more." The nurse mutters and you perk your head away from Harry's chest looking at her horrified, "two more!?" You squeak out hiccuping and Harry has to suppress his giggle at your expense from how adorable you look.

He again shoves your head back in his armpit muffling your huffing and tantrums. "Don't move darlin' don't wanna get yeh' hurt." His hold tight and firm.

"Hurts." You pout and Harry traces it stopping himself to just lean down and kiss it. Nurse left you guys to yourself and Harry breaths loudly grinning at you, patting his thighs standing up helping you too.

"Thank you, Harry." You crane your neck to see him properly rubbing your nose once Harry makes sure you're sitting in his car comfortably.

"No problem, love." He kisses your cheek making your lips quirk up for the first time.

***

You're sitting crossed legs on the twin sized bed of your hotel room. Harry takes a quick glance of you pouring soup into some bowl. Your temperature a little bit coming back to normal, sweat still there as you rests your head back at the board of bed. You're room's nothing sort of luxurious it's dinky and compact.

"Here love." Harry hands you the soup making sure to be careful that you don't get burnt and you takes it from him with a series of appreciation.

"Feelin' better now?" He asks you rubbing your ankles as you places your feet in his lap. Blowing onto your soup and he does the same shoving spoonful in his mouth.

"Way better. Felt like dying honestly." Harry couldn't imagine how bad your condition was he saw it himself and he gives you a weak smile, his man-bun getting loose now.

"Where are your friends? they should have known that you weren't feeling well."

"They asked me but—" Harry's low voice cut you off. In just a day he got to know what your nature's like.

"But you didn't wanted to spoil their fun." You roll your eyes playfully wiggling your toes in his lap to tickle his tummy but he catches them making you squeal through sore throat.

He giggles when you slurp purposedly attaching your lips to the rim of your bowl. Once you're full he places your medicine in your palm and when you makes an icky face he gives you a stern gaze, "uh-huh. Take 'em."

When you swallow the bitter medicines down with a huge gulp of water he pats your head, "good girl." He puts the glass at nightstand. Caressing your jaw, "wanna take a nap?" You nod.

"W-would you lay down with me, ...'s just my body aches and—" You tried to explain without letting heat to creep at your cheeks. He bobs his head furiously more than okay to fulfil your wish.

Without any word he shifts gently to your side getting rid of the hair band that was trapping his long curls into a bun, squeezing into twin sized bed with you, "sorry." he quips when you hiss at his cold bare feet touching your warm ones.

"It's okay." You smile up at him moving closer to him. Sheets rustling underneath as you rests your head over his sprawled forearm. Your bodies reacting automatically like one of soulmates when your knee nudged his legs and he parted them so that you could place your sore one in between them. You molded into him like a piece of puzzle, that was just meant to fill the part of him that was scraped out because of his fate leaving him shallow and empty.

"Sorry for ruining your day." You mumble into his neck fingers brushing the baby curls at the nape of his neck. He shakes his head running his thumb in circles under your hair that were sticking to your neck, "No, thank you fo' makin' my day better. 'M havin' fun babying you." You titters at this and he sighs. There's calm. Heart beats in sync. Yours was racing moments ago. You're tangled into eachother's embrace and he pulls thin blanket ontop of both of you.

You purr wishing he could be always with you at how he's a walking talking heater, "you're warm." Harry senses come to a pause at the kitten voice you just let out snuggling into him deeper and exhaling the breath he was holding in. He melts into you kissing your forehead and petting your cheeks.

"Sleep sweet girl." His breathing lulls you to deep slumber.

***

It's late in night. Harry squints his eyes to street lights coming from the balcony window. He groans and when pushes his face away from you, a huge lovesick smile dances at his lips. He slept so good after so long. Your warmth and sweet flesh pressed into him made him drift to sleep so quick.

He brushes your loose hair back, adorning every feature of you. Fever making you look more glowy and swelly. Then when he leans to kiss your forehead he hears the quite whimper escaping from your lips.

He places his hand at your neck to check and you're again burning. Sighing he wakes you up by smoothing his hands down your arm, stroking your hair gently and tapping your cheek with his two fingers.

You're murmuring weepily in your sleep. "Wake up y/n. It's time for your second dose." He keeps his voice slow not to startle you and your eyelids fluttered taking it's time to absorb his presence.

You shift back against the headrest. He brings the glass closer to your lips after giving you medicine. One hand on your head other making you sip water.

"W-wanna go home. Home Harry." You say in your breaths hiccuping and Harry feels so helpless. He tries to calm you down in every way possible.

He knows you're not talking about going back to London. Your talking about your actual homeplace. Then it hits him, that you're both missing that feeling. Even though you're bubbly, happy and cheerful girl you still miss home as Harry does too. You're perfect for eachother.

He takes you in his arms bringing you back to bed. You hug him close to your heart tearing in his embrace, soft whimpers in his ears that's a knife to his stomach. He pecks the side of your head multiple times.

"Home." You sniff eyes dropping. Harry messages your scalp. Your body moving up and down as he breaths. Your continuous blabbering of 'home' dulls to your sleeping breath and Harry's own eyes craved for more drowsiness with you.

He bolts his eyes shut when his phone vibrates under him. "What!?" He spats whisper yelling, you still over him. He doesn't want to disturb you by any means. Not when you're sick and went back to sleep with so much difficulty.

"'M not coming." He declares dryly as his manager tries his best to coax him back to whatever place they want him asap.

He throws his phone onto sheets cuddling back into you, letting your scent to consume him fully. His heart prancing at the thought of serenity he'll feel while sleeping else it's just jolts of anxiety.

***

Next morning your arms were holding onto nothing, there's no shoulder on which you were crying earlier. The room's dull and sheets cold. Sun refused to outshine for today it didn't got any emarld to beam at.

"Harry...?" You whisper innocently rubbing sleepiness from your eyes and when the silence laughed back at your face you sigh sadly.

You knew from the very start that his presence was just a mere touch of heaven and it's not his fault that you never got to complete dive into him.

It's just you and your homesick soul staring blankly at the flower wallpaper. His soft, giddy vanilla smell hugging you from every side. Consuming your body and you didn't realized you'll miss him until now.

Maybe, you and your love was contagious to him.

.

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 a 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞!!! Don't forget to give your feedbacks.

[roberttchase]

helping your partner into the shower, undressing and cleaning them up when they're too upset to do it themselves + Brettsey 🙂🙂

I love this prompt so much!!! Thank you! I know I normally do angst, like...lots of angst. But I have a test today that if I don't pass will seriously hinder me, so I'm writing something a little more lighthearted and fluffy. Hope that's ok!

//

The thing is, they've been going back and forth with this seller for almost a week. There's two other couples with offers on the table, but they've really been hopeful. I mean...come on. Who wouldn't want to sell to a paramedic in charge and captain of the Chicago Fire Department? The house has everything, too. It's a modest three bedroom only a couple of miles from the firehouse, in an area that; for Chicago, is pretty safe.

The house itself is white, slightly weathered from the rain and snow that the city brings. The doors and molding are black, and it looks like something out of one of Sylvie's HGTV shows. Logically, she's aware they could paint any house, but this one's perfect. The closet in the master is big enough that both she and Matt can use it at the same time, the current owners have just put in a new, very large bathtub. One of the other bedrooms is the perfect distance away for what needs to be a nursery, if miss Adelaide plans on getting here anytime soon.

Sighing, Sylvie swallows thickly as she and Matt listen to the voice on the other side of the phone telling them that the home's just been sold to another couple. Blinking hard, Sylvie stays quiet, and while Matt thanks the man, the blonde wanders over to the window near the couch. It's not that she doesn't love the apartment they're in now- it's more spacious than her old one, and it holds wonderful memories for her and her fiance. But. It's not right for a family.

Beau, their little french bulldog, waddles over and gives a huff as he looks up, then stands on his hind legs, front paws against her leg. Slowly, much slower than she would have seven months ago, Sylvie bends down and picks their thirteen pound dog up, careful not to bonk him into her ever growing belly.

"Hey Beau, looks like you're going to have to wait a little longer on that yard," she whispers, and Sylvie can feel tears accumulating. That's one thing she's been struggling with as her pregnancy gets further along- getting more emotional. But this is a valid excuse to be emotional, she thinks, as she hugs the black and white pup tighter. That was supposed to be their home. And just like that someone else got it. A few tears fall.

She's unaware of Matt's presence until arms are sliding around her from behind, hands coming to rest on her (still small for seven months) bump.

"We'll figure it out. This just means that somewhere there's an even better place out there for us. What does your dad always say...everything has a way of working out?"

A tight nod of her head and she turns, letting Beau down before curling into Matt's arms. The mention of her father has her heart aching to see him again. "Y-Yeah."

"We'll look around tomorrow. It'll be okay. We still have plenty of time before Ads comes along. I promise Sunshine." With a kiss to her forehead, Matt tilts her head up by her jaw, and blue eyes meet blue-green. "I love you."

"I love you too." Her voice is still wobbly. "I just...that house was perfect. In the perfect area, an-"

"Let's not dwell on it, yeah? How about we go shower like you had said you wanted to, then we can order some food and watch Hocus Pocus, hmm?"

A smile starts tugging at her lips. Sylvie knows Matt's tired of watching the Disney movie, but it's one of her favorites, especially when she's upset or sick. It's been playing more often since it's become Autumn and the spooky decor has started filtering in and pushing back to school items in the stores out.

"Really?"

"I think I can manage sitting through it one more time. But only for you. Come on."

With a tug of her hand, Matt pulls her towards the bathroom right next to their bedroom. As she closes the door, she watches the firefighter squat down and grab her favorite lotion for afterwards.

"Thank you...for taking care of me and Adelaide," Sylvie says softly, as she struggles to get off her lounge shorts. Matt gives her a grin, then catches her lips in a quick kiss.

"Anytime. Here..." he trails off and steadies her as she pulls the shorts off. Lifting her arms up, Matt helps her with her shirt too, then catches another kiss. He shuffles her into the shower, making sure the water is a good temperature, then, once her hair is wet, starts lathering it up with her shampoo, the one Matt always calls stupid-expensive.

"You want to make some cookies after? We have those break apart ones, the ones with the little pumpkins on them?"

Sylvie snaps her head up to look at him from under the spray. "When did we get those?" They're her favorite.

"I may have picked them up when I went grocery shopping earlier." A sneaky little smile appears on Matt's face and Sylvie thinks there's no way she can love him more.

"Thank you, Matt Casey. You're something special."

"Nah. I just know you and our daughter, and knew we were out of sweet things. The world might have come to an end if I hadn't found something."

It's true. With the sweet tooth she has, she knows if she hadn't been able to have some kind of dessert, especially after the news, she would have probably had another good cry.

"Love you."

"Love you too bumblebee. Now lets finish you up so we can start on getting you feeling a little happier."

"I am happy...even though we got some shitty news...you always make me happy."

[miyalove]

 ⋆｡˚⁀➷ MY QUARANTINE. 

⤷ pairing. bokuto koutoro x gn!reader

⤷ genre. tooth-aching fluffly fluff, best friends to lovers, college au

⤷ warnings. oc insert (jamine). mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, clichés upon clichés, bo just being the absolute CUTEST, *unedited

2.6k | with the virus on the rise again, you decide that a lonely valentines day seems like the safest option, but bokuto has other plans.

“can you believe we’re gonna have to spend this month in quarantine, again?” a high pitch whine echoes through your laptop speaker. when you look over, jasmine (a close friend of yours) is slumped over her desk chair glaring at her ceiling.

“shouldn’t be that hard, though.” you nod at what konoha says.

“that’s what i was thinking too,” you add in. on your laptop screen are flashes of familiar faces. each one of them smile back at you, doing their own thing as well as keeping up with the virtual conversation. akaashi scribbles into a notebook for one of his classes while he speaks, “we’ve been quarantine for a couple months already. what’s another going to add?” 

it seems that you, akaashi, and konoha are the only ones that see eye to eye. you mentally debate in your head, nodding to his words. in the middle of your thoughts, a sharp whine cuts you out of it. 

“yeah, but this is different!” 

the sudden sound makes you jump. when you look back at the screen, bokuto’s face covers his side of the monitor. he’s up close to the camera so the most you can make out his is nose and big, piecing eyes. the weird angle makes you laugh.

“how is this so different, bokuto?” someone muses. you can’t focus on who though too caught up in the way your best friend whines to get everyone’s attention. it’s a cute habit that he hasn’t been able to break since middle school. for what it’s worth though, you think it just makes him all the more adorable. 

“this is a month of going out and being in love, guys!” he moves frantically. big beefy arms flailing around to further prove his point. his his bottom lip guts out, mocking some sniffles. “quarantine’s just gonna make valentines die!” 

“exactly what i’m saying!” jasmine pipes in again. she takes a big bit of her food before continuing her rant. as she speaks, a piece lettuce falls out of her mouth. across the screen, akaashi blatantly glares at her gross habits. konoha stifles a giggle and you can’t help but to join in on the teasing. seeing konoha’s body shake with silent laugher really got you. 

your friend is unbothered by the giggles though. 

“this is the month of love!” jasmine punctuates her statement with a loud slam to her desk. “we should be g-getting out and doing lovely dovely valentines day shit, right bo?!”  

swiftly, bokuto springs back to life, shaking his head in agreeance. his eyes are wide and filled with stars. he moves way too fast for his camera to pick up so a good majority of the time he speaks, his figure is lagged with pixelated squares. 

“jay get’s it! yeah, yeah!” his glitched out figure suddenly appears further in the back of his room now. his fully body is on display and pixelated or not, you can still make out the way his defined thighs flex while he moves. “you’re supposed to be out and doing all the cute couple stuff!”

“but what if--”

“--and even if we’re not a couple, you can still do things like that! there’s stuff like... platonic love.” the last few words get cut off but you’re able to connect the dots. the way bokuto so proudly voices his thoughts without any doubt is a trait you admire. he means what he says and he says what he means. it’s really as simple as that. if only you could do the same. your shoulders fall at the thought.

you quickly snap out of your funk though. you’re in a call with all your closest friends, they’d notice a change in your demeanor in seconds. shaking your head to rid of any lingering thoughts, you stifle out a cackle. 

“well, platonic or not.” you perk up. “it still seems like a lonely valentines day is an order for everyone.” 

your friends nod despite jasmine’s grumbling. you don’t notice the way bokuto sighs. his brows are scrunched and lips are pressed into a thin line. determination glows within his hues. he’s a little irate how everyone was shoving the topic aside, but most importantly, he’s a little sad that you’re going to have to spend this valentines day all alone!

he’s known you for years and the fact that you’re alright with spending the day of love all to yourself? when you have him right there with you just waiting for your call? it’s personally heartbreaking. 

okay maybe he’s more than a little sad. 

besides the constant buzzing from all your friends spamming the group chat. you spent most of your valentines lounging around your home, just like you had promised. your hair is loose, messy and untamed. it matches the outfit your wearing that’s just perfect for simply relaxing. during the morning, you made yourself a quick breakfast. in the afternoon, lunch and a nice bath was the agenda. now in the evening, you’re settled in your living room while netflix’s latest rom-com plays in the background. 

you don’t really know what’s happening or who these characters are but today’s the day of love so why not celebrate it with a bottle of wine and imaging you and bokuto as the main leads of some stupid flick.

you’re in the middle of pouring another glass when your phone chimes with a special ringtone you set for someone special to you. it immediately catches your attention. you feel your heart shake and you know it’s not because of the alcohol.

the fluttering in your tummy seems to spread with the stupid nickname. you let the movie play in the background while you send him a quick response.

your phone chimes with another texts while barely had time to put it down.

before you can say anything back, a knock at the door interrupts your focus. mindlessly, you make your way to the door. when you open it, you expect to see someone (maybe even bokuto), but instead you’re meet with a big, bright red box sitting on your doormat. 

with the bright red wrapping and the comically large bow right on top, you simply can’t miss it. the box is big enough where you have to hold it with two hands in fear of dropping it. it’s heavy too and when you shift it slightly, whatever’s inside rattles. to top it all off, there’s no label or tag or anything that indicates this package is specifically for you. your brows crinkle. confusion pressed deep within your worried frown.

your hues trace the halls of your complex looking for someone, anyone to explain this random comeuppance. you weren’t expecting any packages. so what is this all about? something inside you tells you to leave it alone. your mail man doesn’t deliver packages at 6 o’clock at night so it can’t be that. is it possible that this was misplaced? you would feel horrible if this was some kind of surprise for a lover and their partner had gotten the buildings wrong. 

your phone vibrates in your pocket and for now, you decide to put the mystery package on hold. the special ringtone you set for a specific cutie makes your nerves jump in it’s confines. placing your glass down, the wine is long forgotten.

“hey, bo,” you great him with a smile once the call goes through.

“hey there, bun,” his grin falters a bit. it’s alarming how fast you can tell something is wrong. bokuto’s always been every expressive but still you’re able to read him like an open book in a matter of milliseconds. your connection goes as far as silent cues too. when he slumps his shoulders or pouts his lips during a test. he sighs differently when he’s shocked by wonder or sadness.

it’s the same with you to him. bokuto, despite popular belief, is so good at keeping up his friends cues. he’s able to read mood changes and tries his very best to cheer up the people he loves if he ever catches them slipping. he’ll even go as far as making a fool out of himself just to see that special person smile.

bokuto koutaro is a shining star and you’re beyond happy he’s in your reach.

“everything alright?” it’s a question that has him conflicted. you can tell from the whirl wind of emotions that were set off as you spoke. his brows are scrunched in concern, his bites at his bottom lip (which in any other case would be sexy), and most worrying, he’s not as cheery as usual. he seems tense and nervous. 

“bokuto?”

“ahh!” it comes out as an anxious sigh, “i was just thinking, is all!” his hands shoot up in a defensive position. it doesn’t take him long to start explaining.

“i was calling ‘cause you said you’d be lonely today and i didn’t want ya’ feeling like you weren’t loved, (y/n),” he’s looking away now. golden hues finding the floor or ceiling far more interesting. one of his hands comes to rub at the back of his neck, a nervous habit you picked up on.

the way he shyly smiles, so unlike himself, makes your chest heavy. the rapid beating of your heart shakes your ribcage. i didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t loved. he loves you. your conclusion feeds into he butterfly wings that tickle your stomach. he’s so adorable. the way he looks at you makes you want to kiss that conflicted little pout right off his stupidly gorgeous face.

“that’s real sweet of you, kou.” you smile up at him. grabbing at the box, you tuck it under your arm as you make your way to your living room. when you seat down on the sofa, the light conversation with bokuto takes a turn.

“so...”

“so?”

he can’t help the light chuckle that escapes him. “did you... find anything on your porch today?”

“yes... actually.” cautiously, you eye the box that’s been propped up as a temporary phone stand. “was it from-”

“did you- did you open it?” 

suddenly the last texts he sent makes sense now. the way he called you so shyly and played it off as best as possible. the nervous ticks that you don’t usually see when you talk. the glimpse of hope that maybe- just maybe, bokuto would come sweeping you off your feet this valentines day.

“not yet.” a bright teasing smile over takes your features as you say your next word, “why?” 

on the other side of the screen, bokuto’s cheeks flare up. the redness traveling past his neck and nips at the tip of his ears. you’re not an idiot. if he was the one that knew the box was there- then of course, it’s from him. without second guessing, you shift your phone propping it against a lone candle centered on your coffee table. 

you waste no time ripping into the wrapping paper and unboxing the goods inside. bokuto watches attentively. his eyes sparkle with excitement and a toothy grin takes over him as he leans towards the camera, trying his greatest to get the best angle possible. bokuto looks like a puppy excitedly waiting for their owner to come home. the anticipation is killing him.

shoving the tissues paper aside, you note the heart shaped confetti that the box is littered with. it’s a cute touch but the mess it’ll create as you take each item out has you holding back a laugh.

of course, bokuto notices. “what that all about?” you can see the upturn of his lips even without looking at him. it’s practically etched into your brain (and you wouldn’t have it any other way). 

“what’s what all about?” you dust off your hands, the glitter sticking to anything and everything. another giggle escapes you while you try to confide the mess as best as possible.

“all that laughing!” he sulks out. in your peripheral, you see him pull a face. bottom lip gutting out and big golden hues growing impossibly bigger. “i wanna know what’s so fuuuunny!” 

it’s too much. the way the box messes just like him. the way hearts are practically glowing within his iris. the way your heart trembles with each playful teasing, every kissable pout, and little shy glimmers. with every drawn out compliant and booming laughter that shakes your whole body. you just can’t keep a straight face with bokuto. no matter how hard you tried.

“i’m laughing at you, silly!” it’s a sudden response that has him bending over in a joyous fit of guffaw too. it’s the kind of laugh you hear from afar but know exactly who it is. each item you pull out, bokuto tells a small story about why he got it. despite knowing him for years, you hadn’t known how sentimental he was. the same memories you played on repeat so late at night where the same ones he dreamed about. the thought makes you beam impossibly brighter somehow feeling impossibly lighter.

you unwrap a bracelet with a paper plane charm on it. “for when you told me you wanted to travel the world!” he beams. “wherever you go, you can add a charm thingy to it!”

latching the jewelry, it’s a perfect fit. the metal tingles at your skin with how cold the metal is. it makes you thing of how warm bokuto’s hands are and how he’d gladly help warm you up. reaching in more, there’s a bag of all your favorite treats, gift cards to your favorite restaurants and boba shops. pairs upon pairs of fuzzy socks (”i know how cold you can get! so i wanted to do somethin about that!”) with cute little comics and characters on it. there’s candles with your favorite scents laced into the wax. 

“oh my god. this is--” you’re speechless. “you’re amazing, kou. really this is just... amazing.”

it is in this moment, when the sun has finally set and low quality of the call perfectly captures his ethereal presence and beaming smile. the way pure admiration and warmth radiate off of him even through your phone screen makes you realize one thing. sure you’ve liked bokuto koutaro but... oh boy are you in for it now.

“amazing valentines for an amazing person.” you curse at the heat that spreads up your neck. he’s too sweet. too considerate. too... perfect.

rummaging through the wrapping, your hand hits one last thing in the box. you feel the petals first. it’s smooth under your touch. velvety with each on you pick at. the steam is the opposite, rough at the touch. some thorns hadn’t been cut properly so if you grabbed it fast enough, you would have gotten pricked.

“a single rose?” you eye the flower. the petals colored a fiery red that matches the way bokuto blushes. 

“yeah! it’s nice, right? i figured putting a buncha flowers in the box would be a little hard to get around so i opted for the better option. then again, i could have just... put it on top of the box, huh.”

“kou?” you try to cut into his rambling. 

“but then someone could’ve taken it, i suppose. then this while thing would have been ruined! and now you’re probably asking ‘well what thing would have been ruined. kou?’ i’m glad you asked!”

you didn’t but maybe saying that’ll ruin the moment that he so obviously worked hard to get to. the rambling he’s been doing for the past minute is a big indicator that he’s coming to a conclusion. swallowing down your laughter, your expression crinkles in question.

“i guess what i’m trying to say, bun, is... will you be my quarantine?” 

you would be stupid to say no.

[your-eternal-muse]

Wish I Were....

Heather Series Chapter 12 (FINAL PART)

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

Bonus!:Readers Card Confession Bonus!:To Hold On, To Let Go, Spencers take Bonus!:Series Playlist

Summery: Reader no longer wishes she were someone else

Words: 4k

Warnings: Swearing, Description of Birth, just pure, tooth aching fluff

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Y/N: This is it y’all. This is the final chapter of the Heather's Series. I started this journey a little over a month ago, and my god, has it been amazing. I never thought it would pick up the traction it did, and I am so glad I decided to start posting in the first place. I’m gonna take a short break from posting any writing just to recuperate and stuff, but it won’t last longer than a week, and I will still be interacting on the platform itself. I want to thank every single reader who has liked and/or reblogged my work. It means so much to me, and I would not have gotten this far without your support. I love you all with all of my heart. There will be one more bonus “chapter” that I will be posting within the next couple days, but it’ll be mostly headcanons, and answering any questions you may have about the series. I hope the ending is worth it. 

With love, your eternal muse,

Frankie <3

~~~~~

I used to be a night owl.

I used to live in the night, sit under the stars and soak it all up.

I used to not go to bed until hours after the sunset, perfectly content to not waking up until hours after it had risen.

Now, I’m lucky to sleep for a few hours between dusk and dawn.

But I’m okay with that.

The ringing of trembling tears echoes through my ears, and I stir awake.

I rub my face, looking at the clock as I push back the comforter.

4 am.

Oh goody.

“I’ve got her baby, go back to sleep.”

Spencer whispers in my ear, planting a kiss on my shoulder, and I’m not one to argue.

I fall back into the pillows, pulling the blanket back up to my chin, my eyes closing without much resistance.

I wake an hour late, expecting to feel his body warmth against my back.

I turn, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, realizing that the blanket is still pulled back from when he got up the hour before.

Oh dear lord please tell me she didn’t get sick.

I climb out of bed, padding down the hallway towards the soft glow of light emitting from her room.

I pause at the doorway, watching as he holds her close to his chest, a smile draped across his face.

I can’t help but stand and watch as he sways back and forth, watching her sleep in his arms.

I notice her tiny hand is clasped around his ring finger, the gold of his wedding band glowing in the dim light.

I love that ring on him.

I never thought I’d be the one to put it on him.

My heart is pounding in my chest.

Why am I so nervous?

He’s not going to leave me stranded.

Right?

Jesus, get a grip, y/n.

“Are you ready y/n?” Hotch walks around the corner, fixing his cuff links as he walks up to me.

I take a deep breath in, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t going to throw up.

“Yep. I’m ready, I just….” I fan myself. “Is it normal to feel like you’re going to pass out on your wedding day?”

He smiles, coming forward and taking hold of my hand. “It is. And I guarantee you, he’s worse than you are.”

I laugh, just imagining the state he’s in.

He hasn’t seen me in three days, since I’m a stickler for tradition.

It was my bachelorette party, than his bachelor party, and now here we are.

“When Haley and I got married, I was a nervous wreck. I don’t think I took a normal breath until hours after just because I was so worried about everything going to plan.”

He brushes some of the curls framing my face out of my eye sight.

“But, when I met her eyes, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was just us, and I knew, at that moment, that everything would be okay.”

I nod, exhaling. “Okay. I’m ready.”

He loops my arm through his, turning to the closed doors where my future waits for me.

“Thank you, Aaron. For giving me away. You’re the closest thing to a father I’ve got.”

He pats my hand. “It’s my honor, y/n.”

I hear the start of the music, and my heart jump starts. 

I grip his arm, trying to control my breathing. 

“Don’t let me fall.”

“Never.”

The doors open, and for a moment, I panic.

But then my eyes meet his.

And everything else disappears.

His hands are clasped in front of him, and I see him look me over, taking in everything.

Tears are streaming down both of our faces, and god, I never realized how much I missed him when he’s gone.

We reach the altar, where a proud Rossi stands, and Hotch hands me off with a kiss to my cheek.

I hand JJ my flowers, turning clasping Spencer's hands in mine.

When my hand touches his, my breathing returns to normal.

However, before I even notice, JJ is handing me a folded piece of paper that holds my vows.

Weddings always seem longer when you’re not in them.

I unfold the paper, clearing my throat.

“I don’t have an eidetic memory, so I need this so I don’t make a fool of myself.”

A couple laughs from the crowd.

Okay, here goes nothing.

“The first time I saw you, you were sitting at your desk, while Derek and JJ sat around you, watching you explain the scientific inaccuracies of Star Wars.”

He laughs, and Derek pats his shoulder from behind him.

“I was awestruck to say the least. The way your eyes lit up with excitement, how your hands couldn’t stay still.”

I take a breath, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I fell in love with you at that moment. But I knew I was done for when you looked at me for the first time.”

Rossi produces a tissue from his pocket, and I laugh, accepting and blotting at my tears.

“You are my best friend. You are there for me in my darkest times, and are often the cause of all my light ones. You hold me when I cry, and you laugh when I’m angry at something stupid. You never make me feel stupid. You are the greatest thing to have ever happened to me.”

Christ, why was this so hard?

“I love you. And I promise to cherish you, and not get annoyed when you ramble on about god knows what, because I love to listen to you talk. I promise to never make you feel like you don’t matter, because you matter so much. I promise to love you through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, until the end of time itself. I choose you, forever and always.”

I fold the paper up again, dabbing away my tears.

“Well, look at that, I still made a fool of myself.”

More laughs, and I hear a few sniffles here and there. 

Spencer wipes his own eyes. “I don’t know if I can top that.”

I giggle.

He goes into his jacket, and pulls out a white envelope, and my face scrunches in confusion.

“It’s not what you think it is.” He whispers.

He opens it, pulling out a car, and begins to read from the inside.

“You told me once, in a card similar to this one, that the moment you admitted to yourself that you loved me, was on a road trip to visit my mom. I thought it fitting that I tell you that, that was the moment I admitted to myself that I loved you in the same way. So here we are.”

I bring a hand up to my mouth, covering the ugly sobs that threaten to spill out.

“We had only known each other for a month, but you were easily taking over every brain cell in my mind. I was terrified of you saying no, but I asked anyway. Those two weeks were some of the best of my life. I fell in love with your laugh, your smile, the way your hair looks in the sunlight. I fell in love with you from the driver's seat and I’ve loved you ever since. You deserve to be reminded of that every day for the rest of your life. I promise to hold and cherish the heart that you have given me. I promise to catch you, every time you run away. I promise to protect you with my life. You mean everything to me, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of forever with you. I love you, forever and always.”

He closes it, and it takes a moment for me to gather myself.

“I promise I didn’t look at your vows before writing mine.”

I laugh.

Rossi clears his throat. “The rings please, Henry.”

Henry walks forward, our rings sitting on the pillow as he smiles at us. 

“Thank you buddy.” I say, taking hold of Spencer’s between my fingers.

“Alright. Y/n, repeat after me. I, Y/n Y/l/n, take Spencer Reid, to be my husband.”

I repeat the words, a smile growing bigger and bigger on my face.

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until the end of time.”

Can I kiss him yet?

I say the words, like casting a spell, before slipping the golden band onto his finger.

Rossi repeats the phrase, and Spencer’s smile is as big as mine, if not bigger.

“Until the end of time.”

He delicately slips the ring on my finger, and my heart starts pounding.

“One more question for each of you. I promise, we're almost there.”

He smiles at each of us, before turning back to me.

“Do you, Y/n Y/l/n, take Spencer Reid as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Not even a question.

“And do you, Spencer Reid, take Y/n Y/l/n as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

I start bouncing on my toes, too excited to care.

“Then it is my great pleasure and honor to pronounce you, husband and wife.”

He turns to Spencer. “You may now kiss the bride.”

He doesn’t hesitate, cradling my face in his hands as he places his lips on mine.

It’s just me and him, in an empty room.

I move my hands up his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck.

It’s only when we break, that I remember people are here, and the room is filled with applause.

With our hands clasped together we walk back down the aisle, and I swear I am never going to be this happy ever again. And that’s okay.

My eyes fall from his arms, to the dresser sitting next to her crib. 

The top is covered with photos, personalized trinkets, and books. 

One picture is framed with her name in gold lettering down the side.

My first sonogram.

Through the glass I can see wrinkles in the film.

Spencer carried it with him until the day she was born.

He had always mentioned how he wanted to have kids someday.

It didn’t make me any less nervous to tell him, though.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Is this Mrs. Y/n Reid?”

I stop writing, my pen mid stroke on my paper.

“This is she.”

“Hello! This is Nicole calling from United Health with the results of your pregnancy test.”

Jesus that was fast.

“Oh! That was quicker than I expected.”

I set my pen down, closing my file, pushing some hair behind my ear, looking around to see if anyone was in ear shot.

They weren’t.

“We get that a lot. But, I’d like to say congratulations! You are pregnant!”

I stop breathing for a moment.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! Thank you!”

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

“You’re so welcome! Congratulations again! Have a great rest of your day!”

I hang up, still trying to grasp the words that have just been spoken to me.

I’m pregnant.

I’m fucking pregnant.

Holy fuck.

“Y/n? Baby, are you okay?”

I snap out of my daze to see Spencer standing beside my desk, a look of skeptical worry on his face.

“Uh...yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Um…”

I have to tell him. I can’t keep this a secret from him, even if I wanted to try and surprise him.

I stand, running my hands over my pants.

“Okay, somethings wrong. You do that when you’re nervous.”

I can’t help but laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Nothings wrong, Spence. Um, I just got a call from United Health.”

He’s confused, setting the file in his hand, down on my desk.

“Why would United Health be calling you?”

There are days when I can't believe he has an I.Q. of 187.

“I went in yesterday, to get a test done. I’ve been gaining weight, and I’ve been getting sick in the mornings. I also skipped my last period.”

I can sense the wheels beginning to turn in his head.

“Wait. Are you…”

I nod, tears falling down my cheeks. “I’m pregnant, Spencer.”

It takes a moment for the words to register in his brain, but then he’s yelling in excitement, throwing his arms around my waist, picking me up and spinning me around.

He sets me down, his eyes red rimmed, his smile one I will never forget.

“You’re pregnant. Oh my god we’re having a baby.”

His hands are placed on either side of my face, and I can’t help but laugh at his infectious excitement.

“Who’s having a baby, now?”

Derek walks up, and Spencer turns, and I know Derek knows just by the shit eating grin on Spencer’s face.

But I just love saying it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Derek’s eyes light up as he claps his hands together, before pulling Spencer into a hug. “My man!”

JJ and Emily gather around, all smiles and squeals as I’m captured in the middle of a group hug.

Penelope walks into the bullpen then, confusion written across her face.

“What’s going on out here? Why are you guys screaming? Who won the lottery?”

I bite my lip, trying to hold back the smile.

“I’m pregnant!” I all but scream.

Penelope’s expression changes in an instant as she practically runs forward.

“Oh my god! Holy crap! Baby genius! That’s so much better than the lottery!” 

She catches me in a bone crushing hug before suddenly pulling back.

“Crap. Sorry. Fragile baby.”

“Congratulations baby girl.” Derek swaps places with Penelope, who is now hugging Spencer with everything she has.

“Alright, why are you guys hugging each other?”

Rossi and Hotch walk through the glass doors, taking in the commotion.

I feel Spencer wrap his arms around me from behind, as he kisses my shoulder, my neck, my cheek.

“I’m pregnant!”

A smile immediately forms on Rossi’s face as he comes forward, grasping my face between his hands, kissing me on each of my cheeks.

“Congratulations, principessa.”

“Congratulations, to both of you.”

Hotch is smiling, waiting his turn to give hugs.

“It’s decided, celebratory dinner at my place tonight!” Rossi announces and we all cheer.

I turn my head, placing my hands over Spencer’s which are now resting over my stomach.

“I love you.” I smile.

“I love you, too. Both of you.”

Soft humming breaks the silence of the room, and quiet words float through the air as he sings to her sleeping form.

“Come Josephine, in my flying machine. Going up she goes, up she goes.”

I enter the room then, tip toeing over to stand by his side, leaning my head against his shoulder as I gently stroke her hair.

“Up, up, a little bit higher. Oh! My! The moon is on fire! Come, Josephine in my flying machine going up, all on, goodbye!”

She’s tiny.

I couldn’t fathom how tiny she was a month ago, and she has grown, but she’s still so small.

Has it already been a month?

“Jesus fuck, I  promised myself this wouldn’t happen at work.”

I shouldn’t have come in.

I know that.

I know that waking up with contractions is a tell tale sign that you should not go to work.

But she isn’t due for another two weeks. Two weeks is a long time. Hopefully enough time to get a grip on myself so I don’t panic that I’m gonna fail as a mother every time I think about it too hard.

I thought maybe I could just get through the day, but the warm stream trickling down my leg is a big fuck no to that.

I’m trying to steady my breathing, the cup of tea I was making abandoned on the counter as I grip the edge with a force I didn’t know I had.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

Hotch walks up, worry creasing his brow.

He places a hand on my back, a comfort as pain ripples up and down my spine.

I shake my head. “I need Spencer.”

I shift my weight from leg to leg. “And a towel.”

He nods his head, looking around for a chair, frowning when he comes up empty.

“Aaron,” I say, turning my head towards him. “Please go get my husband.”

“Right.” He nods, taking a second to make sure I wasn’t going to topple over before almost running towards Penelope's bat cave.

A hiss escapes my mouth as I feel a jab in my side.

“Yeah, I know baby, I wish he would hurry the fuck up too.”

A plethora of footsteps fall upon my ears, and Spencer immediately places a hand on my lower back, taking hold of mine with his other.

“How far apart are they?” is the first thing out of his mouth.

“I’m fine, honey, thanks for asking.” I say as we start to make our way towards the front glass doors.

He gives me a look and I sigh.

“I don’t know. I thought if I didn’t count they’d go away and I could pretend this isn’t happening at work.”

“I wish it worked like that.” JJ laughs, holding open the door and what I presume is my go bag.

“Me too.” I grit, squeezing Spencer’s hand.

“Remember our deal. Not one statistic, or fact is to be uttered from your mouth today. You are not a doctor once we enter the hospital.”

I can see the panic start to form on his face, but he laughs.

“Yes ma’am.”

~~~

I’m never doing this again.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in this much pain before.

I’ve been in this room for what feels like forever, because she’s taking her sweet time being early.

No amount of pillows or soothing rubs can help the aches that are washing over me.

My hair is falling from the bun I threw it up in, sweat coating every inch of skin I have.

I feel gross in every sense of the word.

I lean forward and groan as another contraction rips through me.

How do women do this?

Spencer brushes some hair out of my face and lays a cool washcloth on my neck as I grip the side rails of my bed.

“You’re doing so good baby.”

It feels like I can’t breath.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

He knows there’s not much he can do right now to help, but he holds my hand, trailing his hand up and down my back.

“Just a little bit longer. I promise. She’s almost here. You’re doing so good, y/n. I’m so proud of you.”

If only he knew about the panic flowing through my veins, the thoughts that I’m not ready to be a mom bouncing around my skull like an insistent headache.

A knock at the door, and my doctor walks in, smiles and bright eyes. “How are you feeling, y/n?”

“Like a,” I groan, trying to move away from the pain, shifting forward and backwards. “Like a million bucks.”

She laughs, and I don’t have the energy to be nice and laugh with her.

“Well, I still need to check, but I’m pretty sure you’re ready to push.”

I close my eyes, not wanting to look as she sticks her fingers in a place that will need some R&R after this. 

“I was right. You’re ready. Now, your body knows exactly what to do. It’s best to not fight it, and just listen to what it’s telling you okay?”

I start to move myself back away from her, my breathing picking up pace.

I can’t do this.

“No. No. I can’t. I’m not ready.”

She doesn’t seem phased at all, but Spencer easily notices the fear in my voice. 

“Hey, Hey, Hey. Look at me.” His hands stroke the sides of my face, and his fingers are wet from my tears and sweat.

I shake my head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not ready. What if I fail? I don’t want to fail her. I can’t. No. I’m gonna be a horrible mother.”

“Y/n, baby, breath with me.” He takes my hand, and places it on his chest.

I can feel his breaths beneath his breastbone, the frantic heartbeats that give away his true state of mind.

I hate that I’m stressing him out.

“You are going to be a great mother. One of the best. I don’t think you could fail even if you tried.”

He brushes my tears away. “But you can’t force your body to stop. You need to let go. I’m right here.”

“Alright, were ready, y/n.”

My eyes pass between Spencer’s and I know he’s right.

I just need to let go.

I nod, and I move back to where I was. 

My left hand grips the rail, while my right is situated inside Spencer’s. 

I feel the next contraction start. 

“Alright I need you to push for me.” 

I’m on the brink of a mental breakdown, but I take a breath and let my muscles do the work.

I hear that groaning and screaming can actually help, so that’s what I do. 

With every push, my voice grows louder, words lost in the back of my throat.

But I’m getting tired, and I can feel myself crashing. 

So when another contraction pulses through me, I push myself forward, and use every muscle in my body.

“Get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!” 

I don’t think I’ve ever screamed that loud, but it seemed to work.

It felt like a gush and then crys fill the room.

I fall back onto the bed, tears streaming down my face.

“She’s beautiful!” I hear my doctor say over her screams.

Spencer kisses my forehead, his own tears coating his face. “You were amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“Here she is!”

My doctor lays a bundle of white blankets onto my chest, and when I see her face, my heart stops. 

The world could be burning around me, but I wouldn’t care. Even covered in gunk and red faced, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. 

I sob, holding her close to me, Spencer right there beside me, his hand gently stroking the top of her head. 

“Hi, Ettie.” I whisper. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“She’s so beautiful.” He whispers, his voice thick with emotion. 

I can’t take my eyes off her. I never want to let go of her.

Nothing else matters anymore, nothing but her.

Juliet Diana Reid.

Born at 6:08 am, on the third of December.

He places her in my arms, and I clutch her close to my chest as I move back towards her crib to lay her down again.

I don’t understand how I could have ever doubted how amazing my life would be with her in it.

Soft snores emit from her small mouth, and Spencer wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder, only moving when he hears me sniffle.

“Why are you crying, love?” he whispers

I wipe my face, turning around so I can face him.

His hands are on my hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on my skin.

“For so long, I was jealous of so many people.” My hands play with the fabric of his t-shirt, rubbing it between my fingers.

“I was jealous of Heather. Of what she had.”

My hands move up his chest, coming to rest at the base of his neck. 

“I dreamed about this. About having this with you. And I never thought I would get it. But here I am.”

I smile up at him. “I have everything I have ever wanted. I wouldn’t wish for another life even if it was offered. I have you, and Ettie, and the life I wanted so bad. I’m just…”

I swallow the noise threatening to spill from my throat, so I don’t wake up the sleeping girl behind me. 

“I’m just really happy is all.”

He smiles softly down at me, and he brings up a hand to cup my cheek. 

He leans down and kisses me slowly, gently, in a way that always leaves me paralyzed. 

“I love you.” He whispers. 

I nuzzle my nose against his, before laying my head against his chest, feeling his arms wrap around me, holding me tight against him. 

“I love you, too.”

I love you, Spencer.

I love you.

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