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midnight-mourning · 13 hours ago

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DCA Promptober Day 31: Trick or Treat

Last one! Took a little extra time but we finally made it! Hope you enjoy, this is a fun little something something for the Confused Spirit fans in the audience

Additionally, if you have not read Confused Spirit, many of these characters will have no value to you I'm guessing, so, sorry about that. There's also some slight, implied spoilers for the fic as well. That being said, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 6392

Content warning: mentions of blood, injury, and death, reader descretion is advised

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It's Halloween at the Plex, and you're, well you're not sure how to feel about it. You had to work, meaning your sister and brother are currently out trick or treating with Clara instead of you, which is a bit frustrating. Not to mention, you'd gotten all dressed up and had nowhere to go until you got off in an hour or so.

You think a mandated Halloween party, on top of having to work on a project, wasn't a great combination, but with the glare Sarah had sent in the meeting last week to you and the other division heads, you didn't have much a choice. Have to set a good example and all that.

At the very least, you weren't the only one dressed up, so you didn't look as ridiculous sitting hunched over a desk covered in green paint and fake stitches.

Your team all had various costumes on, differing in degrees of effort and style. Pete went classic vampire, Jesse was a mummy, and Tyler was a zombie. Liv was rocking a great Mia Wallace costume, and Savannah had on a witch hat but really went for it with her makeup look.

Currently, as both a way to kill time and to potentially fix the problem you'd been having, you were all trying your best to fix the issues going on with Fazerblast.

Specifically, something had been messing with both the electric and the mechanical components of the entire attraction. While Lizzy and their team worked to determine what had been causing the random power outages, your goal was attempting to fix the malfunctioning laser guns and rogue staff bots.

You'd tried to tell both Sarah and Rachel that the place really needed shut down for a few days to actually work on it, but no luck. Seems they wanted it open for Halloween, regardless of how bad an idea you thought that was.

When your code crashes again you groan, tempted to run a hand across your face before you remember the paint.

"Frankenstein's monster was a good choice for you. You really sell it," Pete quips, sipping on a blood red slushy in one hand, still typing with the other.

You turn to him, eyes narrow, "Remind me why I'm helping you with coding again? When I could be doing literally anything else?"

"Gives him an ego boost," Jesse answers from across the room, "No offense."

You scoff, turning to the coworker across from you, "Figured as much. Savannah, any word from the company that sold us the trigger pins?"

"Not yet," She sighs, puffing out her cheeks, "But I keep checking the reviews and nobody else has had the same issues we've had here. They shouldn't be freaking out like this."

"Figured that much, too. Liv?"

She looks up and over to you, tired, dead stare on her face as she holds up the phone, "Still on hold. I'm guessing corporate left early for the day and couldn't be bothered to let everyone know."

You grimace, and check the time. It's after six now, the party starts at 6:30. That's more than enough for you at this point.

"Right. You know what, we're done here. Pack it up, we can grab food before the party because I know Sarah's going to be stingy about it."

With muted, half-defeated cheer, your team closes out of their computers and shuffles to the door. Besides Tyler, he's in a great mood still, but you expected as much.

As you're grabbing your jacket and turning out the lights, you swear you see something out of the corner of your eye by your computer. Something purple. When you turn, you find that your computer is on again, login screen staring at you.

"You coming?" Savannah calls from halfway down the hall.

You turn to yell back, "Yeah, give me a sec, just hold the elevator."

Slowly, you walk back over to your computer, giving it a once over. It looks fine, just turned on. You take hold of the mouse, and hover it over the shut off button again. As you click it, the screen freaks out, glitching before turning black. At the same time, a shock goes up your arm and you yelp, purple flashing across your vision.

Dazed, you shake your head, and clutching your arm, make your way out of the office and to the elevator.

You shuffle in, and as the doors close Jesse leans over and mutters to you above the chattering of your team.

"You alright?"

You nod, "Yeah, just, a little tired I guess." Your head feels funny, but otherwise you're fine. You think.

"What'd you do to your hand?" He asks, looking to how you're still holding it.

You let it go, shaking it off and letting it fall to your side, "Stoved it on my way out. I'll live."

He nods and you continue your ascent. But you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. Your arm twitches and at the same time your vision becomes glazed over in a purple hue. You shake your head, and it's gone again.

The upper levels are filled with activity. Kids rush from place to place, already tired parents in tow. The words 'trick or treat!' are echoed everywhere as children go from the different tables and booths set up for the holiday.

If Lisa knew this was going on she'd have a fit that she was out going house to house instead of being here. But asking Clara to watch her in this chaos would have been cruel, and so, the less your sister knew, the better. Besides, Gabe deserved an authentic trick or treating experience as opposed to getting themed-corporate garbage in his candy bucket. For one of his first times at least.

As you pass by the Daycare, seeing many children playing in costumes and such, you see the doors are propped open, and Sun is handing out candy to a long line of trick or treaters.

"Damn Pete, the Daycare Attendant really outshone you huh?" Savannah elbows him and nods to the animatronic's costume.

Sun is also a vampire, with a large black cloak, and white shirt. His pants are somehow all black, and the change of shoes is also a surprise. Two lines of red streak down from his smile, which is still as friendly as ever otherwise.

Pete huffs, "It's literally the same costume, besides he doesn't even have fangs!"

You all start walking again, laughing.

"True, but he wore it better, even without fangs."

The comment causes Pete to start arguing with the speaker, which to the surprise of no one at all, was Jesse.

You keep your gaze on Sun a few moments more, head feeling a bit clearer for just a moment. He glances up suddenly, and waves to you, head tilting just slightly. Surprised, you also wave.

There's a buzz in your pocket. As you start to walk away again you check it.

'Your costume is nice.'

You wait for another message, you don't get one.

'Thanks???' You're confused.

'Something wrong?'

'I just would have expected you to say something snarky at this point. Genuine compliments aren't your style'

You narrowly dodge an eager trick or treater running by you, nodding at their parent as they apologize.

'It's Halloween. I'm in a good mood, don't sour it for me'

You scoff, 'There it is. I don't plan to, though it's tempting to have Clara swing by with the kids just for the fun of it'

From there, your normal bickering comes forth, and you continue it both as you head to the party and while at it. It's a bit busier than you expected, more employees than you expected are there mingling about the dancefloor.

The entire west arcade, like the rest of the Plex, is done up with decorations that set the mood. There's even a fog machine, adding to the spooky but cheerful atmosphere.

You still feel pretty funny though, and thus take the time to go 'cool off' out in the hall for a bit.

It grows worse and you have to lean back against the wall. Head throbbing as you try to drink more punch in the hopes that will solve it. Your vision flashes again, purple, and suddenly you're not in the same location anymore.

It's dark, and you're standing over someone. You can't see their face, it's covered with static. They're crying, hands up in surrender. You feel yourself chuckle, but it's not your voice, your tone is off. It's gravely. Not your own.

Suddenly, out of your control, your hand, which is not your hand but some, clawed, thing, comes down and-

Your vision goes red and you clutch your head in pain. Gasping, you find yourself back in the hallway, back in your body. Back to normal.

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. You don't know what that was. You don't want to find out, either.

"Not enjoying the party, Andromeda?"

You look up, standing above you is Moon. He's also dressed up for this, wearing a witch costume that has more aspects of his usual wear to it than Sun's did. His color scheme is purple with bits of orange, and his usual hat is replaced by a large witch hat.

You relax, the pain is gone, for now, "Trying to. I've not been feeling so hot, honestly."

"What's wrong?" He sits down across from you, cross-legged.

You shake your head, "I don't know. My head has just been, feeling funny. And hurts. A lot, really. Been blocking it out I guess."

"How unfortunate. Perhaps I could be of help?"

You shrug, "You can try, but don't feel like you have to, either."

Moon holds out his hand to you, and you set your palm on top of his. He intwines your fingers, which makes your face heat up, but you think with all the paint on your face it's impossible to tell. You look up to him, waiting.

"Close your eyes, and take a deep breath," He urges.

You do. The pain has subsided some, though not by much.

"Breathe in," Pause, "Breathe out."

You follow his instructions, each breath helping to soothe you bit by bit.

You realize however, that even with your eyes closed, there's a purplish tint to the blackness behind your eyes. You frown, and notice that it grows when you breath in, and subsides as you breathe out.

Moon's grip tightens on yours, but keeps speaking.

"In," His tone shifts, growing hoarser, sinister? "Out..."

Alarm spikes in your stomach, but yet, your mind stays calm, almost like its-

You open your eyes, smiling softly, "I think I'm good now. Thanks, Moon-man."

He nods.

Then, something occurs to you.

"Wait a minute, shouldn't you be passing out candy to the kids-" You blink, and you're alone in the fully lit hallway.

You rub your eyes, had the lights been on that entire time? You knew that sometimes the two AI could avoid a switch if the light level wasn't fully one way or the other. But this was different.

You don't get to dwell on it, as a scream erupts from inside the west arcade, several others following. Alarmed, you sit up, ignoring the pain in your skull that's back with a vengeance and rush inside.

You find a crowd has gathered around the center of the dancefloor. The music's been cut, and people are muttering with horrified looks at whatever’s in the middle of the group.

As you move past people who are covering their mouths or eyes, some are crying, some are shaking their heads in disbelief. You find your team among them.

"What's going on?" You ask after shoving past another person.

Savannah shakes her head, and Liv cowers further into Tyler's arms. You've never seen him so grim.

You realize two of them are missing, your fear grows, "...Where's Jesse and Pete?"

Tyler nods to the center of the crowd, and you quickly take the few further steps to burst out into the opening, finding your fears confirmed plainly.

Pete sits on the ground, crying as he cradles a body wrapped in white cloth stained red. You have to flick your eyes away from it for a moment, the sight being beyond shocking.

Swallowing and keeping your eyes to the ground, you slowly approach Pete and sit down. Briefly, you find your eyes meeting your, Christ, your dead friend's. His eyes are wide, mouth open in pure horror.

You turn back to the man beside you, setting your hand on his shoulder as he jumps, "What happened?"

"The, the lights cut, just, he just," He can't seem to look away, he's shaking, "I don't, I don't know how this would've, who could've, do-done this..."

You put your other hand on his other shoulder, forcing him to turn and look to you, "Pete. Breathe. Just breathe. Okay?"

He nods slowly, and you turn to behind the crowd behind you, "Please tell me somebody's called the cops?"

"No signal, trying to get ahold of Derrick in the office, but haven't had any luck," You realize that it's Bri who's answering you, looking rather grim in her black cat costume.

You nod, "Right. Who's got basic medical training? I think he's gone into shock."

Someone steps forward, and starts tending to Pete. Someone else comes forward and lays a sheet over Jesse's body. A ghost costume you realize, how ironically morbid.

You stand, and-unfortunately being the person with the most experience in this scenario-try your best to take charge and calm things down. You also feel some level of responsibility, given that all the other Division Heads seem to be missing now.

Working with Bri, you send a group to the security office to see if they can't notify the police of what's happened. Additionally, you try to lock down the area to keep this from getting beyond the walls of this room and causing mass panic. Not to mention, you have no idea who did this, meaning they're still among you as far as you're aware.

It's all going as smooth as it can be until Bri and the other guards’ radios erupt with screaming. Causing you to pause in your discussion with Savannah.

You can barely make out what they're saying, only catching snippets here and there.

"-Something in the office!"

"Everybody's dead, oh god, they're all-"

"Help! Please! Anybody!"

To make matters worse, the lights cut again, sending the growing paranoia among the crowd into a full blown hysteric mob. You can't make out a thing in the dark, and when your head starts aching again, purple blinding you, you know you're a goner for the time being.

Another vison comes to you, this time, the room is dimly lit, and you can tell this is a closet of some kind.

Again, you tower over a cowering figure who you realize is, David? What in the world is he doing here? What is happening?

"I don't know what they see in you, if anything at all," A voice that's not your own, yet comes from you, says. It's familiar but yet you can't-

David's sentence is shaky, "Look, I don't know what you want but I don't want any trouble. Okay?"

"Trouble? Friend, you're in a lot more than just trouble," There's something heavy in your hands, it glints in the light, "I'll tell you what though, if you hold still you'll be saving me a lot!"

Axe, it's an axe and it's swinging, down, down, down-

"Hey, it's alright. You're alright," Bri's shaking you, hand on your shoulder.

You take a deep breath, realizing you're on your knees in a room lit by a red emergency light and some flashlights. Glancing around, you see all your friends, including Abby and even Jacob are here with you. There's a few others who you're guessing are other security guards based on how they stand near the door, on edge.

You look back to Bri, "How'd I get here?"

Bri juts her thumb, "Tyler found you half out of it on the ground and grabbed you. Somehow carried Liv here too."

"I'm stronger than I look," He flexes with a nod.

You manage to crack a weak smile, clutching your head as more pain shoots through it, "What happened? Where are we?"

"Security office by Fazerblast," Bri answers, glancing over at the covered window in the door, which you realize has been barricaded, "Furthest we could get safely with this many people."

"What do you mean by safely?"

She opens her mouth, but Pete speaks up, "The bots have gone awol." You turn to see he's on the ground, leaning up against the wall, blood dripping down the side of his head, face solemn, angry, "They're picking us off one by one. Anybody in sight is getting killed off. Doesn't help that we can't see a fuckin' thing and they can."

Your eyes widen, "What? …but, why? How?"

"Does it matter?" He asks, looking to you now, "We're dead meat if we try to leave, but we're sitting ducks here."

Bri scolds him, "We're not sitting ducks. This our best chance of getting out of here alive. If we can get power to the cameras, even better."

"Working on it," Liv says, something sparking as she speaks, "But I'm not an electrical engineer."

"Just give it up, Liv. There's no point," Pete scoffs, shaking his head.

He and Bri start arguing, Savannah trying to interject to keep the peace.

Someone sits down beside you, hand resting on your shoulder.

It's Abby, her Glamrock makeup is smeared with dried tear streaks, "Hey."

"Hey," You sigh.

She bites her lip, "Are, are your siblings...?"

Your eyes widen and shake your head.

"God no. They're, they're safe. Out trick or treating with Clara," You put a hand to your face, relieved as you realize that fact, "Your brother?"

She sighs, "Also safe. With my parents. Not here. But," She stops, and you know exactly what she's thinking.

You nod, turning away as you hear her sniffle. Your friends are still fighting, the guards by the door are getting antsy, another spark startles Liv and she looks ready to cry. You need to do something.

Your vision turns purple but you shake it off immediately. Whatever this is, it can wait. You're going to make it.

Standing, and clutching your arm to keep it from twitching, you clear your throat, "We're not going to die here. Not on my watch. Bri, you and your guys here have any sort of weapon?"

"Tasers. And there should be a baton in here somewhere. Why, what are you thinking?"

You nod to the control panel for the cameras, "If there's anyone who can get those working in a blackout, it's Lizzy. And I know they were in Fazerblast before all this. Hell, it might've been their team that caused the outage."

"You want to go out there?" Pete asks, "Are you insane?"

You shrug, "Have to be at least a little bit to do this job. Someone give me a radio. We can at least double check before considering it."

Bri hands you her radio, and after a moment's hesitation, you set it to the engineers' channel and hold in on the button, "Lizzy, you still okay out there?"

Quiet. Your friends exchange a few bleak glances.

You're about to try again when, "Uh, yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

Relief, you think Pete even cracks a small smile.

"There's... a lot of shit going down in the Plex right now, how have you not heard about it?"

"Dude we've been stuck in Fazerblast for hours. Besides trying to fix the power the doors got jammed. I'm not leaving until this is done though, so we just kind of ignored it. Did think it was weird there was no parents complaining about not being able to use a half-functioning attraction though." Their tone is so casual you have no choice but to believe it.

The information, however, is huge, "That's, actually the best case scenario for us right now. So listen up, we gotta do this right or we don't stand a chance."

After explaining the full situation to Lizzy and their team, you work with your friends to come up with a plan. A good one. Something tells you you're only going to get one shot at this.

Meanwhile, you struggle to keep it together. You keep getting more and more flashes of that other perspective. Speaking in those voices that you can't quite place how you know. Increasingly, you start to recognize the locations they're in are getting more familiar to where you are currently.

It's a no brainer to you then, that you're a part of the team that goes to retrieve Lizzy. You force Bri to stay in the office, along with one of the guards. If you don't make it back, you at least want some people to stay safe.

You try and fail in vein to stop Pete and Abby from coming with you, Tyler picks you up again when you question him coming along.

"We're better off in even groups," Pete argues, gripping the metal chair leg he stole tightly, "Makes our chances that much better."

You don't disagree, but you don't like it either, "Fine, you're right. Now put me down please, Ty."

"Can do boss," He sets you down.

You're all armed as best you can. The guard, Joseph, has a taser, and Tyler has-apparently-pure brute force on his side. Pete has the chair leg, which is similar to the stun baton you're carrying.

Abby has brass knuckles. You don't know how she has those but you're not going to question it. Apparently, Utah state law doesn't have any clauses relating to them, now you know.

You move quickly and silently through open darkness to get to the staff entrance to Fazerblast, which is thankfully only a short distance away. You all stay close, not saying a word as you navigate.

There's not a soul around, human or machine. You don't know if it you puts you more on edge or not.

When you get to the door, Pete's able to get it open quickly, and you all file inside, locking it again soon thereafter.

The light inside the attraction is blinding in comparison to the darkness outside, the music and sound effects playing as if everything is entirely normal. It's almost more eerie in that regard.

You find Lizzy and their crew sitting around one of the towers, the reunion is brief, but happy. It's agreed that the senior engineer will come with your group, and the parts and service crew will stay for safety reasons. You're about to depart again, when the radio starts going crazy.

"We've got issues here!" Bri shouts down the line, "Don't come back, it's not safe!"

Static blares from the device, followed by banging, shouting, crying, and then a loud crash. The silence that follows is deafening.

"Fuck. No, no, no," You bang on the side of the radio, "Come on, Bri! Savannah! Anyone!?"

No answer.

"Dammit!" You toss the radio to the side, hands coming up to grip the sides of your head, "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

A hand on your shoulder, Abby again, "There's nothing we can do right now. We're going to have to refocus. Plan. Hope that they'll be okay-"

There's a banging at the front entrance to Fazerblast. Everyone freezes.

You think quickly as the sound grows in volume, "Lizzy, how in control of the power are you currently?"

They dig through their bag, and toss you a makeshift remote, "It's what we've been using to test."

The pounding gets louder, and the shutter creaks.

"Everybody who isn't armed find a place to hide. The rest of you are with me. We're gonna flip the tables on them."

Everyone scatters, and you make your way to the doors. You have no idea what's on the other side of that metal shutter, but you're going to find out one way or another. You'd rather it be on your terms.

"Can you get it open?" You ask Pete, hitting the lights and leaving only a flashlight to see.

He nods, "You're sure about this?"

"As I'll ever be. Abby, Joe, Ty, go hide nearby. We'll assess the biggest threat and go from there."

They all nod, and head off into the darkness.

Pete gets the panel open, taking a deep breath, "I hope you're right."

You press your back against the wall beside the panel, almost accustom to the feeling of your vision switching to purple. That other perspective is right outside now. You see Freddy is the one banging on the door, along with several map bots. You squeeze your eyes shut and you're back in your body again.

"Me too."

There's a beep, and the shutter slowly starts to raise. Quickly, you grab Pete and shove him on the other side of you, using your arm to press him up against the wall beside you.

As bots start pouring in, you lean your head back against the wall, holding your breath.

You watch as they fan out, scouring for anyone that they think is in here. They don't see you. You relax slightly.

You turn to Pete and nod, guarding him as he moves and shuts the door again, it quietly sinks back to the ground, locking you in here for the time being.

Moving across the wall, you regroup with the others.

"I counted six staff bots, and Freddy," Abby whispers. The other three agree.

Pete keeps lookout on your corner, "The music still playing helps us a little, but not a lot. We stick together, and go one by one, saving Freddy for last."

You frown, "Freddy's not last."

"What do you mean? Of course he is, he's going to be the hardest to take down."

You shake your head, "You miscounted. There's one more animatronic that made it in."

"Who?"

Off in the distance, you hear it, the jingle of bells. There's a flash of red as he lands on one of the walls, far off from you but within your line of sight.

You shake away the purple again, knowing it's going to show you what he's seeing at that moment, "Moon."

You fare better than you expected. A bunch of humans versus machines. You manage to take down three of the staffs bots in the dark, and by screwing with the lights a few times, manage to disorient the Daycare Attendant enough to keep them from discovering your location.

However, one of the parts n services guys gets found out, and his terrified screams as your claws rip him apart send, something, down your spine.

You know something's wrong with you now. You're taking far too much joy in beating in the metal skull of the staff bot below you. Oil splattering your clothes and face. You feel manic, alive. Out of control.

You shake your head, stopping. You ignore the glances being sent your way, you have to make it through this.

With this one you realize there's only one more staff bot left, then it's just Freddy and the Daycare Attendant. You flick the lights off again, huddling together with the others.

"If we go for one, the other is going to know. Our best bet is to divide and conquer," Pete says.

You nod, "One person with an electric weapon per team, one with something heavy. Tyler, you go with the group at the disadvantage to even it out."

Your teams end up being Joseph, Abby, and Tyler together to take on Freddy, leaving you and Pete to deal with Moon.

You trudge through the darkness, silence between the two of you.

There's been a voice in your head for a bit now. You block out whatever it says. Your grip feels shaky on the baton, and you can tell Pete's on edge more because of you than the looming threat somewhere out in the dark.

Keep it together. You just have to keep it together.

"Hello, Diana."

You turn, he pulls you up into the air, away from Pete. You don't even think to scream, instead only able to watch terrified as the ground and your friend get further and further away.

Moon settles on one of the towers to set you down again, and you scramble back and fall onto the ground, looking up at him with fear.

His faceplate twists, observing you. Then, his eyes narrow cheekily and he chuckles lowly.

"What's the matter, Bright Eyes? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You bit your lip as it trembles, raising the baton as a threat, "W-with how this night is going it's, certainly a possibility."

"But that's not my costume now, is it?" He takes a step closer.

You hold firm with the baton, hitting the button for the taser part to go off, "Moon-man, I don't want to hurt you. Don't make me."

The spark seems to deter him, growling.

"Why are you doing this? What did any of these people do to you?" You ask, beg in your words, "Killing innocent people? That's not you."

Moon snickers, and despite your waving of the baton, he moves closer, clawed finger resting on the end of it. He presses it down as he crouches to your level.

You now sit eye to eye with him as he speaks, "Andromeda, would you like to know a secret?"

Your grip tightens on your weapon, head shaking once. That doesn't deter him.

He leans in closer, his smile hovering just above your lips.

"This is the best Halloween I've ever had," Then, he kisses you. You're so surprised that you don't feel the baton be taken from your hand until it's gone.

He pulls away, chuckling again.

A loud bang suddenly resonates in the space, and the Naptime Attendant starts to twitch and collapse on the ground in front of you.

Pete stands over you both, breathing heavy as he clutches the chair leg in both hands.

"Sorry, had to take the stairs."

Moon snarls and flips around, hand raising ready to slash across the man's chest.

Panicked, you hit the button for the lights.

But it's too late.

As Sun's rays pop out, one by one, Pete can only stand there, blood slowly starting to soak through his shirt. He coughs, then takes a step forward, then another, stumbling past you into the wall. You quickly flip around as he collapses back against it, breathing ragged.

"Well, at least now you look authentic," You turn back to see Sun standing hunched over, clutching his faceplate, "Though, it's still not quite as good as mine."

As he straightens, you have to suppress a gasp as it's revealed that one of his optics has shattered from the previous impact.

His rays twitch and his focus snaps to you as you stand.

His faceplate clicks to the side, "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Sunshine."

"Sun." You can't reach for your baton without it being obvious.

"Are you having a good Halloween? I know I am." He tsks, "A pity about your costume, though I suppose the grit and grime really sells it."

You take a deep breath, running the back of your hand under your nose to wipe away the blood that's dripping. Your vison flashes purple, and for a moment you find you’re staring down at yourself.

You're a mess. Hair all over the place, clothes torn. There's streaks in the paint covering your skin. There's still blood coming out your nose a little bit.

And your eyes are bright purple.

You come back to and watch Sun's eyes narrow.

You shift slightly, hand twitching.

You see there’s a slight shadow over Sun’s eyes. And in his good optic a small white pupil flicks to your hand. You swallow.

"Don't do something you'll regret, Icarus."

You stamp your foot down onto the baton, it pops up into your hand and you click to turn it on.

You jut your chin out, tilting your head slightly, "Come on, Sun. You know me better than that."

You rush forward, he steps back, dodging and spinning to face you as you charge again. It's almost like a dance of danger. And it truly becomes one when Sun takes one of your hands and spins you around, dipping you low and back up as you try and fail again to use the baton on him.

You let out a noise of frustration. Charging forward again, the two of you go round and round. Narrowly you miss him every time. Narrowly he dodges every swing. He’s fast. Faster than you’d have ever anticipated, than he’d ever let on about. You never realized how close to death you may have been all this time.

After another miss, this one the closet you’ve gotten yet, Sun puts an end to your game. He grabs hold of the baton, only flinching as you turn it on, and rips it from your grip, tossing it aside. He spins you into his arms and holds tight.

You fight against him in vain.

"You know, Bright Eyes. I would have thought you'd appreciate your treat a bit more than this," He snarls the words, "But maybe you've been too busy resisting it to do so."

You slow your struggling, and Sun releases you finally. The words having done the job far better than his hold to sedate you.

You turn to face him cautiously.

"You, you did this?" You ask, "You did this to me?"

Sun tuts, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, "Well, technically you did it to yourself, Bright Eyes. But I'm happy you did. Makes all of this much, much easier."

It suddenly hits you that he's right. Maybe not intentionally, or fully knowing, but you made the choice to go back to the computer. You chose to try and turn it off again. You could have left the office, it would've shut down eventually. Something had compelled you to come closer and investigate, and you had made the choice to listen.

And now you were suffering from the cost.

"Now, let's finish this up, hm?" Sun bends and kisses you, pulling away after a moment, "You wouldn't want to disappoint now, would you?"

You don't answer. Your feet move on their own as they turn to face Pete, who seems to realize what's happening before you do.

He clutches the wound on his stomach tighter, breathing quickening, "Come on, snap out of it! This isn't you! You know it's not."

"Quiet over there, you'll get your chance to speak in just a moment," There's something set down in your hands, you know what it is, "Don't worry, I'll help you. No need for tears."

You find that you are crying, but can't do a thing to stop it. Your body is not your own, your emotions are not your own. You are entirely out of control as Sun guides you to march staggeredly towards Pete.

Off in the distance you hear shouting as your remaining friends try in vain to take down Freddy. Not that it mattered. Even if they did, you'd be finishing the job.

Your breathing is heavy but controlled, grip on the axe tight, all you can do is stare down at Pete, who looks up at you horrified, eyes wide. You think the look matches the fear in your own gaze.

Sun's hands are on your shoulders, voice a purr in your ear, "Go on, Starlight. You know what you need to do."

The axe raises jerkily, fighting against it and losing. Your eyes snap shut, and it comes down. Again, and again, and again.

You block out everything, all noise, all touches. You block out the sound of sickening crunches and squelches, of Pete's heavy gasps, of Sun murmuring encouragement right beside you all the while.

You block out the wood rough against the skin of your hands, the blood, sweat, and tears, running down your face. Sun's hands wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder.

You suddenly regain control and your eyes shoot open, throwing the axe away from you and stumbling back into Sun's arms. Your hands come up to your face as you sob, shaking your head.

He just holds you as you cry, muttering things you can't comprehend as he presses kisses to your hair.

When you finally subside to sniffles is when he pulls back to press a kiss to your lips.

"There, there, you're alright, Bright Eyes. Come on now," He lifts you to your feet, arms pulling you closer as he leans in for another kiss, "I'll let you pick who's next, how's that?"

You shoot up from your bed, heart racing. You clutch your chest, breathing hard.

You're at home. Sitting on your bed. You're fine. Everything's fine.

There's a yawn to your left that interrupts your thoughts.

It's Gabe, laying on the bed beside you in his pumpkin costume. He yawns again, and stares curiously up at you, fist in his mouth. You pat his head with a sigh.

Right, you were going to put him down for a nap before heading out to trick or treat, then go to the Plex for the same thing. Looks like you ended up taking a nap too.

You check the time, it's almost five. Suddenly, a thought hits you square in the face.

"Did I kiss Sun?" You say aloud.

You do your best to recall the fading nightmare.

Oh god, you did. Right on his stupid flat face. Multiple times. You kissed Moon to but you're less opposed to that albeit confused-but Sun?

Involuntarily you gag, now feeling the sudden urge to rinse out your mouth, even if it had just been to his faceplate, much less a dream.

Shaking your head, you turn to look down at your brother, who's now somehow managed to get his foot in his mouth, despite his costume.

"Gabe, never down a bag of sour gummies and immediately take a nap, it'll give you crazy dreams."

You think you might leave the trick or treating to the kids tonight.

Something tells you that it’s for the best.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Oof, what a doozy huh? Imagine being the final girl AND the killer... crazy. Good thing it was all just a dream. Here's the promptober list and the spookvember schedule. Thanks for reading as always-

Oh?

What's this?

Looks like there's a link down here.

How'd that get there?

...

Hm.

You should click it. See what happens.

CLICK ME

btw the song playing while writing the fight scene was I Go Crazy - Orla Gartland and it was a VIBE and a half let me tell you-

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mrs-kodzuken · 14 hours ago

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listening to you ⟢ tooru o.

synopsis: being the quiet girl had its perks until you were discovered by the only and only Tooru Oikawa. He's made his advances towards you before, to where you shook him off, but this time you both get close. That's when he discovers your huge, loud, adoring family—a complete opposite from you.

other: high school!oikawa x quiet!fem!reader, reader is Matsukawa's little cousin, family gathering, oikawa falls head over heels, fluff, high school love

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, mentally groaning, preparing yourself because you somehow got the attention of Oikawa yet again. No matter how much effort you tried to blend in, no make up, no differing hairstyles from the other girls, nothing to make you stand out, he always found you.

Before he could reach you, you grabbed your lunch and quickly walked towards the door that led to the staircase of the rooftop.

Students weren’t allowed up there but you were always swift about it, constantly eating lunch up there without anyone knowing. That was the one place you were safe from Oikawa at.

Once you finally settled down on the ground, you were able to enjoy your lunch that your mother always packs you, with a small note of encouragement too. You sighed as the wind blew, wishing Oikawa would just leave you alone.

You had helped him with a homework question once because you had crammed the math equations in your head all summer before school started so you would never fall behind. It was an anxiety thing for you, all your parents could do was encourage you to try your best and say that it would all work out in the end.

However, when you magically solved ‘the hardest question ever’ Oikawa claimed, he tried attaching himself to you since.

Every so often Oikawa would try to ask you out, make little flirty comments, or something of the sort since you apparently ‘saved his life’ with the homework question before it was due. However, it got exhausting trying to avoid this newfound friend, if he’s even that.

You had rejected Oikawa because you knew him, you knew that he was so consumed with volleyball, hence the reason his last girlfriend broke up with him.

Dating Oikawa would not be serious and that went against everything you stood for. You never told him that, you hardly told him anything to be honest. However, that didn’t stop him from constantly pestering you to know more about you.

You groaned when the burning sun got too much for you and made you pack up the empty lunch box and head inside of the building.

You wished you could leave Oikawa out of your head but you simply couldn’t, he never tired—to him, this was like volleyball, you intrigued him and now he won’t stop.

“You know, no students are supposed to be up there, right? I never pegged you to be a bad kid, Y/n-chan.” You didn’t even have to turn around to know who was talking to you. Leave it to Oikawa to know where you were at all of lunch.

And the fact that absolutely no one calls you Y/n-chan either was a dead giveaway—and the fact that he immediately put you on a first name basis.

“Hi, Oikawa.” You curtly said, trying to get around him and head to class, not really wanting to deal with his antics right after lunch.

“Awe, Y/n-chan, spare me a couple more minutes please?” He whined, still following you to your class, which was separate from his too.

“Okay, fine. What?” You had your limits, and Oikawa always tried to push them, it’s been this way for almost an entire month.

“Come with me after school? I have a surprise for you,” He smirked, wanting you to meet his team. You don’t have any extracurricular activities either so it would be perfect.

The bell was about to ring, and for you it made you anxious, you just wanted to be in class and not be late.

“Okay, okay fine. I have to go.” You left him standing in the hallway without any regard to how he was going to be late for class as you rushed into your own.

Oikawa on the other hand didn’t if he was late, you agreed to something he asked for the first time ever. He breesly walked to class, not caring about being late nor the slap he got from Iwaizumi either.

Oikawa knew he wanted to prove to you that he actually likes you, he can always see the skepticism on your face when he asks you out.

Granted, he’s gotten discouraged sometimes and wanted to leave you alone but being your friend was better than nothing to him. And, he has priorities too, he’s not just some aloof guy who had tunnel vision for just volleyball—although he does love it.

After classes were over, Oikawa tried taking your hand in his—to which you in the blink of an eye yanked it away from him—he led you to the gym where he practices. You could hear the volleyballs, the squeaking of shoes, and minimal talking and laughing in the background.

Anxiety spiked in your stomach, “I’m not going in there, you realize that right?” You backed away, a hint of disdain in your voice. After the amount of time he’s been attached to you and didn’t realize that you wouldn’t do that was kind of weird to you.

“What? You don’t want to meet my team?” Oikawa asked, with puppy dog eyes, pleading with his hands together.

“No, Oikawa, I’m not meeting your team—I just, I don’t want to.” You turned away, adjusting your bag and preparing to walk home, not explaining more to him about the why.

You never really gave Oikawa a goodbye when you leave, you realize.

“Wait, Y/n, I won’t make you meet them. Do you have to go, though?” He genuinely asked, devising to ask you to come see something else, wanting more time with you.

“I…No, I don’t have to go, just don’t make me go in there.” You confessed, letting him have more of your time that you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t give him.

“Thank you, follow me, I promise it’s nothing bad.” He half smiled, something genuine instead of the smirks he constantly flashes you.

You reluctantly followed him as he led you around the gym, to the backside of it. It was a surprise when you saw a lot of cherry blossom trees, their petals were everywhere, it looked magical.

“This is where I come to hideout sometimes, I think it’s very calming.” You looked at him in awe, setting your bag to the side once you sat down on the grass. Oikawa knew it was different being with you, you could let Oikawa talk for a while and he would know you were listening because that’s just who you were.

You were different too, you didn’t fawn over him or try to constantly get his attention or make yourself an obstacle in his way when he was in a hurry. Sometimes it was hard to really be himself and keep a facade when he just wanted to be by himself.

He doesn’t get that feeling with you though, that’s why he’s been trying so hard to woo you. He stared at you while you looked around at the trees, probably loving the sight when the wind blew.

It would gently wake up the petals and twirl them around in the air for a small dance before moving them to new spots.

When he settled next to you, being sure not to repeat his mistake from earlier and touch you without your consent, he set his head back onto the tree bark. Being able to talk free of anyone judging him is what he also loved about being with you.

“Yeah, and I take my nephew—his name is Takero—to volleyball classes on Monday’s because that’s when the team takes a break from practice.” Oikawa prattled on, you played with the soft, pink petals that littered the ground underneath the cherry blossom tree.

You never realized that Oikawa actually liked a place like this either. Maybe you put a small stereotype on him when you realized that he was pining for you.

He continued about his parents after finishing telling you about some of his childhood experiences with his older sister, she sounded like a delight.

He left you there to listen to him, which wasn’t a pain as you actually got to hear who the real Oikawa was and that made you smile during some of the stories he told you. Once he was finished opening up, he peered his gaze towards you.

He wanted to know you too, you realized that he created this conversation discussion to also hear about you. That didn’t happen, you both sat in silence that was only awkward on your end.

He watched your face, tracing every bit of it with his eyes, stamping it to his memory.

Oikawa really fancied being here with you, watching your movements of how you apply chapstick, play with the ends of your hair, and other small tid-bits. However, after a few minutes trail by, he realized that neither one of you were speaking and he was just staring at you.

You could see Oikawa getting curious about your reluctance to talk about your family, you genuinely didn’t know where to even start either. You chewed on your lip, which didn’t go unnoticed by him either.

Your family was incredible and they have respected you since the beginning so you never had a reason to be ashamed of them.

Moreso, you were ashamed of the fact that you weren’t like them. You would give anything to not be the oddball of the family, even though they wouldn’t have it any other way.

However, you weren’t about to open up about your deepest insecurities to a third year who didn’t know anything about you. In his mind though, he was curious about your home situation, the thoughts were endless for him.

What if you didn’t get along with your family and he was pushing boundaries he didn’t know were there? Or perhaps you had a single parent, or grandparent, or even an aunt or uncle.

He knew that no matter what it was, he wanted to be respectful to you and your kin. After realizing you preferred the traditional ways of dating, he was piecing together the perfect opportunity to ask your family—or guardian—to date you.

“I want to ask you out the right way Y/n.” Oikawa started, not looking at you anymore but the side of the gym for the fact that he could hear his teammates leaving the gym and realized he skipped an entire practice to be here with you.

“Can I meet your family and ask for permission?” He finished, a caring smile he gave you, only you in that moment. Your heart skipped a beat too, you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to refrain from the blush you could feel coat your cheeks.

You never, ever thought that the Oikawa Tooru would ask you to meet your family in order to ask you out. You figured he would have just gotten bored at that point. You nod, actually allowing it this time. How he figured it out? You have no clue.

You both got up from underneath the cherry blossom tree, you collected some so you could press them later too.

Oikawa made a little stop at the corner store so he could buy flowers for when he asked, it made him nervous when he saw you resisting a giggle as you waited on him.

Seeing you happy like that was something Oikawa never wanted to share with anyone else. He walked a step behind you on the sidewalk to your house because he wanted you to lead the way, obviously not knowing where you lived.

You swiftly pulled out a card from your bag as you both arrived at a pristine white, large gate. You swiped the card through which allowed you to enter, hearing the small creaks from the gate with Oikawa following shortly behind, he was in awe that you lived within an actual gated community.

However, as he followed you, he stared at the sight of quite a large family outside, they were enjoying the weather.

He could tell by the sports that were being played, the smoke from the grill, and small children drawing on the sidewalk.

He smiled at the sight, enjoying the happiness that he got from seeing a family like that. It made him wonder—and get nervous again—about the fact that he was going to actually meet yours within a few short minutes.

Although, imagine Oikawa’s surprise when you turn down that driveway and wave to your little cousins who were chalking very colorful pictures on the sidewalk.

“Wait, Y/n, this is your family?” Oikawa asked, sounding taken aback that this was your family.

You peered behind you as you grabbed the door knob to open the front door, “Yes…?”

His brown eyes stared back in awe, and you half smiled, entering the house. After taking off your shoes, you did your afternoon routine in which he just stood there, waiting for you.

He soaked in all of the pictures on the walls, counters, bookshelves, everything. Seeing pictures of you when you were a kid was something he wanted to so badly coo over but he had to do something before he could.

“Everyone’s outside,” You motioned towards the back, grabbing Oikawas’ attention from the pictures he couldn’t help but to stare at.

“Oh, okay. Let’s go then,” He gathered himself and accidentally tightened his hand on the flowers a bit too tight as he walked with you. When you both stepped outside onto the patio, he got a full view of your family, they were so picture perfect, like that kind family that’s in the movies.

However, he was extra shocked, his jaw slacking basically on the ground when he saw Mattsun there.

“Y/n, is Mattsun a part of your family?” He questioned, pointing at his teammate, knowing it was bad manners but did it anyway. That gathered Mattsukawa’s attention and came closer to talk to his team captain.

“Hey Kawa, didn’t know I’d see you here. You missed practice, Iwaizumi was not happy.” Mattsun smirked, giving you a small side hug, something that you both always gave each other at these family reunions.

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa rolled his eyes, “I was busy, why didn’t you say anything about Y/n being a part of your family? You’ve listened to me talk about her for a while!” Oikawa groaned, embarrassed that he was actually whining to his friend who was kin to the girl he likes.

Mattsun chuckled, “I didn’t think it was important, and she would’ve told you if she wanted you to know, isn’t that right?” He looked down at you, making you shimmy out of the side hug.

“Go play ball, I got to find my dad,” You motioned for Mattsun to leave and urged Oikawa to come with you, you swallowed harshly, the excitement that Oikawa was doing this for you never going away.

“There’s my little girl!” Your dad exclaims as you walked towards him, he had on an apron with ‘best cook’ written on it, it was his favorite to use at these reunions. That was mostly to get at his brother—your uncle, Mattsun’s dad.

“Hi dad, I brought someone who wants to meet you.” You smiled, making way for Oikawa. You hoped he was being serious when he said he would do this the traditional way.

“Hi sir, I’m here because I like your daughter and wanted to know if I had your permission to take her on a date?” He swiftly said, handing your father the flowers, glad that the only sign of nervousness was his sweaty palms that he wiped on his school uniform pants.

“Ahh, my wife will love these, thank you. You’re the one who's been bugging my little girl haven't you? Go ahead, it’s okay.” Your dad chuckled, ruffling your hair, he loved to see that his kid—not accepting that you’re almost an adult within a few years—was happy.

“Thank you, sir.” Oikawa smiled brightly, a twinkle in his eyes, and that’s when you saw the little rosiness on his cheeks, he fancied you so much, you realized.

Oikawa then spent the next fifteen minutes speaking with your family, getting to know them, especially your mom—not Mattsun though.

After that, he had asked your mom where you went, “Oh, Y/n’s probably in her room, go see if she’s okay for me.” Your mom winked at him as he waved and went inside.

Once Oikawa finally figured out which room was yours, he gently knocked and went in when a small ‘come in’ was heard.

“Hi Y/n,” He smiled softly, enjoying to see this side of you, hoping that since he’s done this the traditional way, you’d finally take him more seriously. He watched your form put your book down, your window was open, you liked listening to your family, but enjoyed also being by yourself.

To his surprise, you gave him a wide smile, “Hi Tooru,” You said, effectively making his heart skip a beat in response.

Oikawa knew that you were worth the wait to figure out.

a/n: soft oikawa pining for reader jus does smth for me, i hope you like it!! <33 & requests are open!

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cecoeur · 2 days ago

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In one of your last asks, you asked in the tags if it was hypocritical for you to point out how RBR are basically using VCARB as a rookie mill now that Daniel is not on the team, and just wanted to pop up to say you’re NOT hypocritical at all.

I really wish someone in f1 media would grow a backbone and bring Horner, Mekkies and Bayer’s OWN quotes to them from the start of the year. They all swore up and down that VCARB was no longer a junior team but a stand-alone, serious, sister-team. THAT was the justification and the utility of bringing Daniel into it. He was the experienced driver that was essentially leading the project.

And it shows that he was literally DOING the job they asked him to. VCARB went from dead last in the WCC to 6th in the standings. I’ll never get tired of saying it, but RBR could have played this all so differently by highlighting Daniel being in the team to help get them off the ground and lend some much needed developmental experience and consistency.

Instead, they let him be raked over the coals in the media while the car bounced back and forth so wildly in terms of their development. Both he and yuki’s performance was inconsistent because the car itself, along with the team’s identity and direction, was inconsistent. It’s not Daniel’s fault that half-way through the season, Marko went off his meds and decided to fuck the rebrand and go back to it being a junior team.

After that, what was the point in having Daniel there? We know there was no long-term plan to have him there (because really they wanted him to that RBR seat) but when Checo’s sponsors said “not so fast”, it was Daniel that was up a creek without a paddle and no where to go. So, you’re absolutely right in saying that RBR have a little rookie mill and taking up two seats to trial their juniors drivers - AND THEN not even promote them - is weird and warrants calling out.

People are so quick to bitch and cry about how, “we need more seats/teams on the grid” well get rid of Racing Bulls and let Andretti take their place then 🤷🏼‍♀️

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Honestly, I don't think they had any super concrete plans, just a couple of glue sticks, an extra 30 million dollars, and a dream. Because of that they poorly messaged the entire operation from the get-go (paul and his pencil continue to get a 0/10 from me in the external communications department) and then they went and further mismanaged the situation because helmut and christian are too busy having the worlds longest slap fight to do anything constructive. Them not really having a plan or a cohesive message is also why it played into redbull's hand to let daniel constantly take the brunt of the media's pressure, so they let it happen. Originally it was daniel being there to be the experienced driver in this sister team project and then it quickly became daniel being there to prove himself to replace checo and everything kind of unraveled from there. They could've stepped in at any time but chose not to (christian contradicting helmut's rants two days later doesn't really count) and honestly, we should've known then that this was a disaster in the making.

Anyway, thanks for validating me but I am self aware enough to admit that it is a teeny tiny bit hypocritical to have been fine with the team when daniel was there and to now say I think their existence should be illegal lol. But to be clear, it is lame that they're allowed to have an extra team for helmut to play barbies with mostly because he's not even good at it.

Finally, you have unwittingly joined me in the sandcastles-in-my-mind that is the Andretti Global F1 team. I have dreams (they're delusional and never happening but oh do I have them).

#ask #As I always say: if you're going to be evil at least be good at it #I think that is what frustrates me more and more about this because the more we learn the less it is that rbr are this evil cutthroat team #and more that they're all just incompetent and that's so annoying

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panharmonium · 8 days ago

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i am not usually interested in dramatically canon-divergent scenarios because the canon story is what compels me, but i've been obsessed with this moment ever since i re-heard it during my second viewing. from the perspective of someone who already finished the story once and now knows the truth - this was wild.

WHAT IF?

#naruto #naruto manga #pan watches naruto #team ro #WHAT was itachi thinking #i mean it's clear that he makes this 'change of plan' because he's taken aback/alarmed by how much kakashi knows #and my assumption is he wants to find out where kakashi got this intel #but for real WHAT was his long-term plan?#it is no secret that i am obsessed with the kakashi-itachi dynamic and like. this is just wild to me #especially given the timing - hiruzen just died so like. does itachi even have a contact in the village anymore?#is it *danzo*? seems nuts but.#if it is then this plan is insane. danzo doesn't love kakashi but he does respect him highly as a shinobi/an asset to the village #and i absolutely do not think he'd be willing to let itachi sacrifice a piece that powerful #was itachi just going to keep quiet about this if/when the Leaf asked where their most renowned jonin went? was he going to LIE about it?#or does the fact that hiruzen is dead mean that itachi *doesn't* have a contact in the village he trusts anymore #(hence him showing up immediately after hiruzen dies just to remind the Other Three that he's still out there)#except he didn't expect kakashi to sniff him out INSTANTLY and now he's taking him captive because...???#i don't know why #to torture him until he reveals his intel source and then kill him?#except itachi DOESN'T want to kill kakashi. that's established.#'why not just kill me? if he wanted to...he could.'#that's canon and it's GREAT and i love looking back at that very early line from much later on #knowing it's one of the pieces that clicks into place for kakashi when he's considering whether or not madara's story could be true #but anyway. itachi DOESN'T want to kill kakashi.#but if he takes him captive and doesn't want to kill him - then what???#there aren't any good answers for this because honestly i don't know that itachi's entire backstory had been planned yet #(like i think i read somewhere that kishimoto knew itachi was technically on the villlage's side from the beginning)#(but i'm not sure if all the details had been established)#in any case i remain FASCINATED

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profoundathletecowboybanana · 3 months ago

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We don’t see Insane Nightwing enough for my tastes like:

This mf listens to NO ONE if he doesn’t want to and everyone just goes “omg what a great leader always with a better plan.”

Argues with fucking BATMAN of all people and is not a stranger to winning said arguments.

Has been kicking villain ass since 8 years old and can figure out what your great-great-great aunt twice removed was doing on April 16, 1721 and will use it as blackmail for your entire bloodline.

Probably still uses Facebook.

Would 100% wear Velcro Lightning McQueen light-up sketchers and outrun you in them only to do a quadruple backflip at the finish line as his victory dance.

He knows the exact behavior patterns and personalities of his entire team/family/coworkers and can plan their movements/reactions to near perfection in almost any circumstance. Has used this to prank them.

Learned how to cook out of spite to prove to Bruce he could live on his own (after one of the aforementioned fights. Also, after proving he could live on his own, was not immediately alerted to his little brother’s passing because Bruce has a Complex).

“Tim! Tie your shoes when you walk down the stairs you could trip and get hurt!” “You literally just got shot please worry about yourself for once??”

Has trained under Batman’s pacifistic “no killing” policy and then also fucking Deathstroke the Assassin and Mercenary. Neither one was particularly kind to his psyche

Killed the joker but imo was very justified and not insane at all. But also just sort of just… let blockbuster get killed that one time. Has also killed others

The whole vampire series??? I still haven’t read that one yet but everything I’ve heard about it has been against my will

Has had beef with multiple children (special shoutout to Jason Todd)

Somehow made peace with his family after Bruce allowed all of his other children to don the name Robin, which was given to Dick by his Very Dead mother (and of which the meaning how now been diluted and the connection to his parents severed)

Please add on to this if yall think of anymore bc I just know that man has his Moments

#batman #batfam #dc robin #nightwing #dick grayson and batman #dick Grayson #dc joker #insane nightwing #mentally ill eldest sibling vibes #teen titans #vampire nightwing #dc comics #dc

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5sospenguinqueen · 4 months ago

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American Boy | Logan Sargeant x Celeb! Reader

Summary: When Logan finds out this his celebrity crush’s celebrity crush is HIM!! He freaks out. Thankfully, the internet (and Oscar) manage to do most of the work for him.

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff

Requested: No. I just love Logan Sargeant

I put an embarrassing amount of effort into this one, especially that letter. 2024 season

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

user1 girlies, who is this logan sargeant and how is he managing to make our girl smile like that

→ user2 he’s an f1 driver. yn grew up watching f1 and is still a huge fan of it

→ user3 a vroom vroom guy! the shame

user4 i can’t believe these came out in the same week???

→ user5 the universe is aligning

user6 okay but i don’t think any of us would recover from them dating. they’re both so hot liked by yn_official_ln

→ user7 omg omg omg she liked the tweet

→ user8 @/logansargeant look at this!!

user9 okay but i really hope that somebody showed yn that episode of team torque because she loves f1 and i feel she would die

→ user10 babe, if logan is her celeb crush, what makes you think she hasn’t watched it herself? liked by yn_official_ln

user11 can we all take a moment to admire how calm yn was in her interview though. she admitted she’s had a crush on a guy since she was like 17 and didn’t even blush

user12 okay but yn’s liked tweets section is going to send logan into cardiac arrest

user13 @/logansargeant shoot your shot, dude!

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_official_ln vroom vroom what an exciting day. a huge thank you to mclaren for inviting me into their garage. i can’t put into words how amazing it was to be inside an f1 garage, and the whole team were warm and welcoming. (i’m still convinced these two are dating though???)

1,778 comments

user1 someone check on logan please? is he still alive?

→ user2 no because the way he just stopped dead in the middle of the paddock when he spotted her walking with oscar and lando

landonorris right, i’ve told you like 10x now. we are NOT a couple. he just looks at me that way

→ oscarpiastri whoa, don’t act like you’ve not been caught giving me the goo goo eyes too

→ landonorris goo goo eyes? who taught you that!

→ yn_official_ln that would’ve been me when i was showing him the photo i took of you looking at him with goo goo eyes

→ landonorris i take it back. i don’t want you to come again next weekend

→ yn_official_ln but i already booked my ticket :(

→ user3 i fear logan may have passed away

williamsracing perhaps we could poach you into our garage next time?

→ user4 logan ghost wrote this

→ yn_official_ln would i get an ls2 cap to go with it?

→ logansargeant you can have mine liked by yn_official_ln

→ user5 they interacted!

→ alex_albon i’m hoping he won’t see this because it’s hidden within comments but logan won’t stop giggling at his phone

danielricciardo it was so great to meet you. i didn’t know it was possible for one person to do so many different voices

→ yn_official_ln give me time to watch some interviews and i bet i can do you by silverstone

→ danielricciardo i don’t think logan would appreciate that

→ yn_official_ln omg! no! not in that way! i think i’ve made it clear that aussie drivers aren’t my type

→ arthur_leclerc what about monegasque?

→ yn_official_ln not american, not for me liked by logansargeant

→ user6 i love how bold she is! logan, go for it! She has literally announced to the entire world on multiple occasions that she’s into you

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_official_ln just posted a new story

logansargeant just posted a new story

oscarpiastri just posted a new story

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others

yn_official_ln exciting things coming soon

1,650 comments

alex_albon i thought we were friends. you can tell me right? new movie? new album?

→ yn_official_ln as my friend, i can tell you that you already know

→ user7 new boyfriend

georgerussell63 what’s all this then

→ landonorris george admitting he’s not cool enough to be included in the inner circle

→ yn_official_ln don’t pick on him. there’s pics of him looking like amelia airheart on the internet, he’s suffered enough

→ georgerussell63 @/logansargeant why do you like this one

charles_leclerc the news is that she’s an ambassador for lec ice cream

→ yn_official_ln deal but only if i can meet leo

user8 okay but all the f1 drivers being here makes me think something

→ user9 she’s been in the paddock and went to a few garages. i think she’s made friends with a lot of them

williamsracing just checking that we’re still on for sunday?

→ yn_official_ln like i would miss the british gp

→ lilymhe you’re going to be in silverstone? omg, i’m freaking out. alex, why didn’t you tell me!

→ alex_albon yeah, she’s racing instead of me liked by logansargeant

user10 miss rabbit has fainted

francisca.cgomes i was not familiar with your game. i need you to kiss ME like that

→ pierregasly pardon? you better not come anywhere near alpine on sunday

→ alex_albon like logan would let her leave williams

user11 logan liking but not commenting? do we think he’s actually died upon seeing that yn has a boyfriend?

→ user12 hear me out. what if he’s the boyfriend

→ user13 babe, i think you’re as delusional as he was for thinking he had a chance. nobody has a shot with their celeb crush, even if you’re semi-famous yourself

→ yn_official_ln wait, so i don’t have a shot with my celeb crush either?

→ oscarpiastri i think your celeb crush would let you step on him if you asked

→ user14 i love that the grid are exposing logan being down bad for our girl

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

logansargeant just posted

liked by jensonbutton, arthur_leclerc and others

logansargeant silverstone complete. amazing support this weekend. and an amazing effort from the team

995 comments

user1 where can i get that jumper

→ yn_official_ln etsy x

→ user2 um, ma’am are you admitting that’s your jumper?

user3 i’m sorry but did anyone else see logan kissing someone who looked an awful lot like yn after he realised he was almost in the points???

→ user4 and we all know she was in the garage that weekend

→ user5 fans caught video footage of her hugging him, and he just folded into her in shock, his helmet was still on and everything

alex_albon i don’t think this counts as a soft launch after you were caught on camera in front of millions

→ logansargeant i’m trying my best, okay!

→ yn_official_ln you’re doing amazing baby

→ user6 miss yn, are you even trying to hide it

→ user7 she kissed him on live tv, i’m gonna go with no

→ yn_official_ln have you seen his face? you would too

→ logansargeant ☺️

lilymhe thank you for bringing my new best friend to silverstone

→ logansargeant you can’t have her

→ yn_official_ln i only came for you @/lilymhe

→ lilymhe you, me, run away into the sunset together?

→ alex_albon whoa, hold on a second

oscarpiastri mate please tell me you’re not attempting to soft launch

→ logansargeant it was the plan but somebody ignored the plan

→ yn_official_ln oops? it’s not my fault you’re too cute to ignore

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing and others

yn_official_ln somehow i managed to get a date with THE logan sargeant. i think i have ultimate rizz

1,839 comments

oscarpiastri no, you both just have a really good friend. you’re welcome

→ yn_official_ln whoa, i can get bitches on my own

→ logansargeant i can’t so thank you, oscar

→ mclaren i think you mean, thank you mclaren. we sent the letter

logansargeant babe, you got more than a date

→ yn_official_ln you’re right. i’ve had six months worth <3

→ logansargeant and i look forward to even more

landonorris and it was all too much for little logan sargeant

→ landonorris mate, why do your legs look so long

→ logansargeant @/yn_official_ln this is why i told you not to post that one

→ yn_official_ln but you look so baby girl

→ landonorris ha!

alex_albon stop trying to make him look good at sports. i kicked his ass at table tennis

→ yn_official_ln yeah and i kicked yours. and stole your girl

→ lilymhe you tell him, boo!

→ user8 yn really said don’t insult my princess

→ logansargeant she just called me her beautiful princess so thanks for that

user9 when they say people died, and it’s a pic of logan sargeant kissing his celeb crush. i am people

→ yn_official_ln i also died because do you see how passionate this man is

→ user10 no need to rub it in (i love you)

danielricciardo i see a gentleman who respects a good hat

→ yn_official_ln he’s letting me live out my cowboy fantasies

→ danielricciardo you know what they say, save a horse

→ yn_official_ln yeehaw!

→ logansargeant is this why pr are calling me?

Tag list

@rosecentury @peachiicherries

2K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 5 months ago

Text

🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years.

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even.

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again.

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces.

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree.

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.”

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work.

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man.

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him.

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition.

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in.

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later.

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case.

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest.

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.”

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included.

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms.

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“What are you doing here?”

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.”

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups.

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands.

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following.

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-”

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.”

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed.

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?”

“Uncomfortable.”

“Or at your breakfast bar?”

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.”

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well.

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep.

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave.

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you.

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard.

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you.

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer.

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most.

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon.

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist.

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together.

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer.

“Spencer, its 2pm.”

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you.

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.”

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre.

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.”

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled.

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet.

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own.

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong.

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair.

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that.

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you.

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.”

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.”

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.”

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him.

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen.

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb.

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself.

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-”

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.”

“Laundry?”

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.”

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space.

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?”

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.”

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face.

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.”

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?”

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.”

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors.

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description.

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives.

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second.

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you.

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?”

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support.

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side.

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears.

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?”

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest.

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him.

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile.

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment.

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did.

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly.

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-”

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch.

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.”

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes.

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-”

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.”

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet.

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back.

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out.

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.”

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you.

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.”

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways.

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?”

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-”

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-”

Your voice cracked again.

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for.

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness.

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years.

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-”

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….”

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time.

“And you deserve a break.”

“W-When we take breaks, people die.”

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?”

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess.

“You all had reasons, I-”

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.”

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back.

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream.

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating.

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there.

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin.

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you.

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence.

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly.

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him.

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.”

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful.

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever.

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.”

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him.

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you.

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another.

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words.

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head.

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing.

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you.

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours.

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again.

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead.

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you.

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

2K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 9 days ago

Text

Fix You

John Price/female reader 11k words - AO3 - story is set in Through Me (The Flood) but is an AU and can be read as a standalone. Tags: 18+ major character death, heavy angst, loss of a loved one. Grief. Overconsumption of alcohol. Explicit sexual content. Emotional hurt/comfort. Complicated feelings. Angry sex. Caretaking. Trauma. Tenderness. Reader is a widow.

John Price knocks on your door in the late afternoon.

When the doorbell rings, you slip the baby into her bouncer and rub Orion’s hair affectionately at the table where he’s scribbling away with some crayons.

You’re not expecting anyone, but you guess it could be Cami. Though she usually just waltzes through the front door after using her key.

But it’s not.

It’s John.

You’re silent in front of him, eyes wide. He’s holding a bag, a black duffel, still dressed for work, for battle, face pinched in despair. Your heart lurches. “What is it?” He peeks over your shoulder to where the kids are, preoccupied, happy.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“No,” you tell him sharply. “No, I- what is it? Where is he? How bad is it?” His eyes soften, and he whispers your name. You barely notice when he reaches over to close the front door, too busy cycling through every worse case scenario. He eyes the chairs on the porch.

“Let’s sit down.”

“No.” You’re going to be sick. “Just tell me. Say it.” There’s a long moment where your life plays out in front of you. The stretch of before, and after. John takes a deep breath.

“He’s gone.” Gone. Gone as in, missing? Gone as in, on a different mission? What does gone mean? Your confusion must be blatant, because he reaches for your shoulder. “He’s dead. I’m so sorry.” You jerk away and laugh. That’s all you can do. Laugh. Laugh at the absurdity. Simon's not dead. He can't be. That makes no sense.

“No, he’s not, he can’t be. I literally just talked to him, like three days ago. He said you guys were wrapping up, that you were done.” He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, he’s-“

“Stop. Don’t- don’t say that. He’s coming home. You’re all supposed to be home next week, he promised, he-“ Your mind is fighting something your heart already knows. “It’s not true.”

“We ran into a situation, there was-“

“Stop!” You back away, bumping into the railing. You’re shivering, sobbing, unable to catch your breath.

“C’mon,” he says gently, trying to guide you towards the chair, but you don’t budge. You can’t. If you don’t move from this spot, you don’t have to accept it. If you don’t move from this spot, you don’t have to move forward. You don’t have to live a life without him. You don’t have to walk inside and tell your son his father is dead. Your daughter won’t have to grow up without ever knowing him.

“Please.” Your voice cracks, and you stare up at him. “Please, it’s a mistake, it must be. It has to be. He can’t- He promised, he promised.”

“I know.” You shake your head.

“Please.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t save him, I-“ His voice breaks, and then you do, sobbing so loud you’re sure it can be heard over the hills. A scream is building up inside you, burning and itching to get out, and he tugs you forward, cradles a hand around the back of your head and pushes your nose to his chest.

When it finally breaks free, it echoes directly over John’s heart.

You’ll never understand how people can say funeral services are beautiful.

They’re not.

They’re agonizing. Devastating. The last screw in the finality of your new reality.

It’s only you, the kids and his team. That’s all he had.

“You’re everything mama. I love you so much.”

Orion’s barely old enough to understand. He asks when he’ll see his dad again, and your answer is traumatizing for your child, at best. Daddy’s not coming home, you tell him. Daddy’s going somewhere else now, somewhere better.

He’s dead.

You black out during the entire thing. There are words being said, by a priest, by Johnny, by John, flowers being thrown. Cami stands at your side, holding your daughter, the child who will grow up never knowing her father. Barely five months old. Occasionally you look over at her, blissfully asleep, and you feel envy. Envy of your own child, who will never know this loss. Who will never feel the pain of losing Simon Riley.

Someone asks you if you want to do the honors of dumping the first shovelful of dirt onto his coffin.

You laugh out loud.

What a ridiculous custom.

Johnny and Kyle exchange a look of concern, you ignore them. You know what they think.

“Let’s get you home.” John’s eyes linger on your face, their sapphire and gunmetal shine holding you captive for a second as you grapple with what he’s said. If you were more present, more aware in this moment, you’d probably say they were akin to the palest hydrangeas, the color of the shrubs growing in your own front yard.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, you’re not in any state at all, you’re just here, standing at the edge of the cemetery, staring at a mound of fresh dirt.

The dirt covering your husband.

Orion hugs your legs, trying to force his way between your knees. You’ve long tuned out the sound of his wails, unable to give him more, give him anything except your relentless grief.

You should be stronger, for them. Should handle this better.

There are a lot of things you should have done. Should have told him you loved him more. Should have been the one to hold his hand as he died. Should have made sure he wasn’t scared and alone at the end.

The gaping wound in your heart tears wider, and your knees buckle.

John wraps his arm around your shoulders, steadying you, shifting your weight into him, keeping you upright. Cami watches, gaze glossed over with tears, baby in her arms. Your baby. You and Simon’s baby. Orion cries louder.

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, to no one, to the wind-

But it’s John who answers. “You can.”

There are voices in the kitchen.

It’s late now, long after sunset, the day you buried your husband almost over. More and more of him slips away. You get farther and farther away from the last time you saw him, spoke to him, heard his voice with every second.

It aches, so you close your eyes instead and tuck the blanket under your chin, curled up with your nose in the couch cushion.

The kids are asleep. You’re hoping you’ll follow. Soon.

“-want us to stay?” It’s Kyle. He’s trying to keep his voice down but you’re only in the other room, on the couch, staring at the wall.

“No,” John assures him. “You guys go home. I’ll be here.”

“You sure? The kids… if she’s not feeling up to it, or needs help…” Cami’s voice is wet, still heavy with sadness.

“I’m here. I promised him.” There’s a long pause, and he clears his throat. “I’ve got her.”

You can’t dwell on them for too long, exhaustion of the day finally dragging you down, slowing your breathing and cutting off your consciousness, giving you a reprieve from the grief by sealing you away from it in your sleep.

“Mama?” Orion’s little voice calls for you in the dark, and you jerk awake. The baby is crying. Someone is knocking on the door.

“Hey little man,” your throat is raw, your voice not your own. His little eyebrows crease together.

He looks so much like him.

You glance around. You’re no longer on the couch but tucked away in bed, slippers placed neatly on the carpet, phone plugged into the charger. Odd, considering you fell asleep on the couch.

“You hungry?” He nods as you sit up and wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Alright, let’s have breakfast then. What do you think sounds good?”

“Waffles?” “Okay. Go wash up while I go get Nix.” And figure out who’s at the door.

“John.” His hands are in his pockets, beanie folded up on his forehead, and you don’t miss the way he evaluates you, crying, wriggling baby in your arms, still in your pajamas, Orion hollering about breakfast in the background.

“I wanted to come by and check on you guys.” Right. Of course. Come check on the widow. What if she can’t get herself out of bed? What if she’s too sad to take care of her kids? He grimaces and clears his throat. “You’re uh… you’re wet.” He inclines his head towards Nix, who is mouthing at your chest over your t-shirt. Shit.

“Oh, crap. Uh, come in. We were about to have breakfast. Well, not just about. Ry wanted waffles and I was about to start them,” you’re babbling down the hall, glancing at Orion in his booster seat at the counter, banging around a bowl and spoon like a little king waiting impatiently for his meal.

“’cle John!” He claps, and John smiles.

“I’ll start them for you while…” He trails off and you smile awkwardly.

“Thanks.”

Phoenix is an easy baby. She latches easily, eats easily, goes down to sleep easily. She’s a breeze compared to Orion at this age.

Small blessings, you guess.

Simon said it was you earned it, after Ry. You deserved it.

What did you do to deserve this?

“Mama sad.” Orion whispers, his mournful little voice the first thing you hear when you shuffle out of your room. Nix went down after a change and a burp. Easy.

“She misses your daddy,” John answers, “like us.”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip so hard it stings at the sound of his voice, dejected, depressed, palm finding the wall to stay upright.

The world tilts, falling out beneath you. For a second, you can see him. Standing on the other side of the counter, black sweatpants low on his hips, pouring some milk in Orion’s little orange cup, Nix cradled against him, stretched across his forearm. Simon laughs, licks his finger, and rubs something off the corner of Orion’s mouth.

You want to scream.

It’s a memory. Nothing else.

“.. okay?” John’s standing in front of you, head tilted, cupping your elbow. “You alright?” You raise your eyebrows, and he rolls his lips inward. “Sorry, course. You just… you looked a little sickly there for a minute.”

“Mama!” Orion yells, rocking back and forth to see you on either side of where John blocks the hallway. “Waffles!” You slide your hands down your shirt, Simon’s shirt.

“You made waffles?”

“Pre-mixed batter isn’t so hard. The lad was hungry.” Guilt simmers in the pit of your stomach, pinches your cheeks inward. “Hey, it’s okay. He was fine, jus’ a little impatient.” You nod, and he jerks his head back to the kitchen. “C’mon, I made you some too. And there’s fresh coffee.”

“Did you put me in bed last night?” You’re wiping down the countertop, some movie enrapturing your toddler in the background. He hesitates, and then nods.

“You were falling off the couch. Didn’t want you to brain yourself on the coffee table.” Your fingers curl around the mug, still warm to the touch, shoulders bunching beneath your ears before you forcibly relax them.

“Well, thanks.” I guess. An uncomfortable silence settles between you, questions evaporating on the tip of your tongue.

“I was going to head into town today for some groceries, can I get you anything?”

“Formula.” You blurt. “I can’t… we’ll need formula.” You don’t want to explain to him how it’s too much now, to breastfeed. How you won’t be able to handle it on top of everything else. How you think your milk will probably dry up anyway, bowing and breaking with the waves of your despair.

“What are you thinking about for dinner?” He scratches at the underside of his chin. The beard is overgrown, something you haven’t seen on him in a while, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

He’s grieving too. You know it.

You just can’t find it in you to care.

Something is weighing on John. Something is tied around his ankles, tethered to the sea floor, waiting to drag him beneath the surface. You see it. There’s guilt in the lines of his face, tension between his brows.

You wonder if there is blood on his hands.

“Why are you here, John?” You don’t intend to ask, but the words have a mind of their own and slip free.

“Wanted to stop by.” His voice is tight, rough like yours this morning. “Check in, see if you needed anything.” There are a million things you want to say, but words fail you. You don’t know how to tell him he should just leave, because nothing will ever be okay. You’ll always need something.

Simon.

Your husband.

The father of your kids. The man whose shirts are hung up in the closet. His paperback book still sitting open on his nightstand. His toothbrush still in the cup by the sink.

The agony you’ve managed to lock away for a few brief moments breaks free again, and you clap your hand over your mouth to muffle the heaving sob. John looks past you to where Orion still sits in front of the screen, mesmerized, and then takes you by the elbow to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, settling on the closed lid of the toilet, still choking on the lump in the back of your throat. “I told you, I can’t do this, I can’t. I can’t be without him, I don’t know how to be without him, I can’t-“

“Hey,” He’s crouched down, evening the height difference, looking at you with an expression so serious it quells your spiral for a fleeting moment. “You can do this. You have two beautiful kids who need you to do it for ‘em.” He hands you a square of toilet paper, and you wipe your nose.

“I want him back, John, I- I need him back.” You tuck your hands between your thighs, suddenly freezing, cold from the inside out.

“I know,” he murmurs gently, “I know you do.”

“There’s a lasagna in the fridge. Cami left it last night.” He’s tugging on his jacket, your handwritten grocery list from the fridge tucked in his pocket.

“Oh.” She’s texted you multiple times today, and all have gone unanswered. You don’t know what to say. “That was nice of her.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours after I take care of a few things and do the grocery run. You’ll be alright?” He’s treating you like glass. Like you’re a bomb primed to explode, big red letters counting down to an inevitable explosion. You manage to nod.

“Yeah.” The smile you give him is painfully fake, and you know he clocks it. “I’m going to hang out with the kids. Cuddle on the couch.” His smile is more genuine, but small.

“I’ll help you with dinner later.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.” He turns to leave, but you call his name before he hits the door.

“John?” His eyes meet yours. Blue. Crystalline like the sapphire on your finger. You clear your throat. “Thank you.”

He nods.

John finds you catatonic on the couch one morning. Nix in her day crib, the one that’s a permanent fixture in the living room, and Orion perched in front of an old Disney movie for the hundredth time this week.

You’re failing. Failing your kids, failing as a mother, failing to keep yourself patched together.

You thought you’d be stronger if it ever happened. You promised him you would be, but the promises have turned meaningless, your integrity torn to pieces.

You can’t remember the last time you showered or brushed your teeth. You’re sure you smell.

At least the kids are clean. Dressed. Fed. You’re not a complete disaster, you guess.

Still, when John appears in your line of sight, brows knitted together with worry, you’re caught off guard.

“Oh.” You blink, his frown deepens.

“I was calling your name. Were you somewhere else sweet?” Sweet.

“Sorry, I was… lost in thought.” He takes you in from head to toe, you in all your grimy glory.

“How about you take a break?” Irritation ignites, and you grit your teeth.

“I’m fine,” you snap. “I don’t need help.” His arms cross his chest.

“It’s not a request. You’ve been wearing those sweatpants for four days. Get up, and get in the shower, or I’ll put you in myself.”

“Fuck off.” You hiss, and his eyes widen, surprised. How many people have surprised John Price? Close to none, you imagine.

“That’s enough.” He hauls you off the couch by your forearms just as Orion glances your way, little brain no doubt trying to understand the situation. “Be right back, bud.” John soothes him, and you seethe at how easily your son, Simon’s, nods and returns to his movie.

He’s gentle somehow, dragging you to the bathroom, but still forceful as he holds you by the elbow and reaches into the shower to turn the tap on.

The little fight that was inside you is gone. You wilt. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to the floor, fingers knotted together.

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” You’re sniffling, crying for the hundredth time in the last few days, and he rubs your upper arm.

“Nothing is going to be okay for a while,” he murmurs, “forever, even. But you’re not alone, okay?”

“Okay.”

The rest of the week goes too fast. You’re getting farther and farther away from it, from the moments when Simon was still alive in this world, when he still existed.

Desperate to slow it down, you don’t sleep. You sit in the kitchen and scroll through your phone, replaying the same videos over and over again, tears dripping down your cheeks. Grief is an emotion, but it’s a physical ailment too. It rots in your stomach and starves you. It aches between your ribs, so viscerally it’s like there is a knife twisted there, scraping against your bones, sawing between your muscle.

You take care of the kids in a daze. Feed and change Nix on autopilot. You give in to Orion’s every wish without a second thought, and he has waffles every morning. Chicken nuggets every night. Ice cream sundaes with too much chocolate syrup and a mountain of whipped cream. As much screen time as his little heart desires. You let him sleep in your bed, curled up in your arms, his little fist clinging to the neck of whichever shirt of Simon’s you’re wearing.

He can’t sleep in his own. He wakes up crying.

Cami comes over and stocks your fridge and freezer. She refills your tea canister. She vacuums the entire house. She feeds and changes the baby. You watch, listlessly, and when she’s finished, she squeezes your hand with a promise to be over again in a few days. You don’t have the words to thank her, so you don’t try. You want to believe she knows anyway.

John is the steady presence. He’s here, doing the dishes, making sure the three of you are eating, helping with the kids. He watches you shrewdly, careful.

A ticking time bomb.

One he’s afraid to set off.

It doesn’t matter how much they try to lessen the burden of living. How much they try to support you. They can’t change anything. They can’t stem the bleeding of your broken heart.

Seven days after Simon’s funeral, you crack the bottle, the one you had shipped from the states, stupid expensive Kentucky bourbon, caramel colored gasoline.

The baby is asleep. Orion is exhausted from his day with Gaz and Cami.

You’re alone on the front porch, curled up in a blanket, the hood of Simon’s sweatshirt pulled over your head. The only light you have is the green glow of the baby monitor. Otherwise, it’s just you, the moon, and the stars.

The hoodie still smells like him. So do the pillows. His t-shirts. His side of the closet. It’s a blessing. It’s agony.

You drink directly from the bottle, though you should use a glass. Simon would chastise you for not using a glass. He would tell you to sniff it from the rim of a tumbler, and then laugh when your nose wrinkled.

You should use a glass, but you don’t. It’s easier to take big sips this way.

Truck tires crunch on gravel, and then the broad figure of John Price stands at the foot of the porch. “Hey.” You raise the bottle, expecting him to laugh. He doesn’t. The stairs creak beneath his feet.

“What do you have there?”

“Bourbon.”

“Kentucky?”

“The one and only.” You take another swig, baring your teeth when it burns. You shake it. “Want some?”

“Think you’ve had enough for both of us.” Ass. You bristle, anger boiling in your blood, but you’re too drunk to stay on track and unleash it.

“Why are you here?” It’s the same question you asked earlier this week, but you still don’t understand. He holds your gaze for a long time. The only thing you find there is devastation.

“I promised him.”

“You promised him what?” He rubs the back of his neck.

“This isn’t a good time for this conversation, let’s go inside-“ You don’t budge. You can’t.

“You promised him what, John.”

“I was there,” his voice is hoarse, and there’s a heaviness to it, an agony the two of you share. “And he knew. He knew we wouldn’t get him back in time, no matter how fast we landed a bird.” You can’t see, vision blotted out by your tears. You want to put your hands over your ears. You want to know everything single thing. The two sides battle, and your cheeks grow wet like your face is upturned in a downpour. “He made me promise to take care of you. To take care of the kids. Grabbed me by the front of my vest and asked me to swear. So I did. I swore. I swore and I’m not going back on my word to him. I never will.”

“You were with him.” You’re not sure you want to know, but you have to. You have to know every piece of him, even this. Even the end.

“Yes. I was with him at the end. He wasn’t alone.” You clutch the bottle against your chest, so tight you’re afraid it might break, shatter the glass into your fingers. It would hurt less than this.

“Was he scared?”

“No. He was only thinking about you. You and the kids. He wanted to make sure you were going to be okay, that was all he cared about. He dug the pocket square out of his vest and held it over his heart.” The sob breaks free and destroys the dam holding everything together. Your body shakes with it, the ugly noises coming from within you, the pain of losing the love of your life.

“You were supposed to keep him safe.” Your voice raises, the alcohol tainting your ability to be rational or stay quiet.

“I know-“

“Mama?” You jolt, turning to ice, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. John swears under his breath.

“Orion,” you croak. He’s stricken, holding his sippy cup, wide eyes focused on your face. “It’s okay, everything’s okay.” You try to reassure him, but his panic only increases, and you fail in the moment, unable to offer him comfort. John steps between the two of you and crouches.

“Hey bud.” He points at the sippy cup. “Need some milk in there?” Your son nods, trying to peek around him to see you. “How about,” John scoops him up, “we get you some more milk and get you back in bed okay?”

“I want mama.” His voice trembles. You feel sick and close your eyes, but the next thing you know there are little arms wrapping around your neck in a hug, your boy’s hair under your nose. You look up at John, his eyes red and his face tormented.

“Say goodnight and she’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“I love you, little man,” you kiss him once, twice, before rubbing his back. “Let Uncle John get you some milk and put you back to bed, okay? I’ll be in soon.” Their voices disappear down the hall, and you twist the cap on the bottle.

Down the hatch.

“He looks like him.” Orion is rolling around in the living room, playing with his magnatiles while Nix is on her back, feet in the air, kicking at the play arch. John hums, stroking a hand over his beard. He’s finally trimmed, looking more like himself and less like a mountain man.

It’s a strange feeling, to see him and notice it looks better. Good, even.

“He does.”

“Guess we’re lucky, in that way. Having these little pieces of him.” Orion has his eyes, his shoulders too. They have the same smile, even some of the same mannerisms, and it hurts so much to think about how it will fade over time, how Orion will no longer be able to mimic his father. John steers your mind away.

“Can I help you with dinner?” “No, I’m okay. But… if you want to stay, you can.” He should, but you don’t say it out loud. You don’t admit to him or even yourself that you’ve become reliant on him, his consistency, the steadfast force in your lives. Weeks have passed, and he hasn’t given up, no matter how hard you fight and fall apart. No matter how destructive you, the maelstrom at the center of your family’s life.

“We all lost-“

“You didn’t lose anything!” You’re screaming, finger jabbed in his chest, pushing him backward. He lets you. He doesn’t flinch. “He was mine! He was mine, not yours. He was ours. Our son’s. Our daughter’s. He belonged to us.” You’re barely breathing, suffocating underneath your grief, fingers going numb. He reaches, but you step away, swaying on your feet. You whimper. “F-fuck.”

“Come here.” It’s not a request, not the gentle coaxing you’re used to from him. It’s a command from a captain. When you don’t, he strikes, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into his chest, hand at the back of your neck. “Breathe.” He rocks you side to side slowly, head down, rumble in his diaphragm soothing against your ear. “C’mon, you can do it. Big breaths.”

“I can’t.” It’s the same thing you’ve been saying over and over again. You can’t do it, you can’t do this, you can’t you can’t you can’t you-

“Yes, you can, you can. Try. I’m right here, I won’t let you fail. I promise.”

“John said you needed a break.”

“John doesn’t make decisions for me.” You snap, and Cami winces, triggering a tidal wave of guilt. “I’m sorry Cam. I… I’m having a hard time.” She rubs your shoulder.

“I know. It’s okay. You’re not going to offend me or push me away. I just want to help.” You sigh. “Let me take them for the night. You can catch up on some trash tv. Read a book. Take a bath.” She whittles you down, and you finally concede.

Except being alone is bad for you. It’s bad for your mind. It’s bad for your heart.

Hours later, John finds you in a pile of Simon’s clothes. You’re curled up, nose buried in cotton, skin swollen under your eyes. “Oh, sweet.”

“Go away.” You don’t even lift your head.

“No.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“That may be but I’m not leaving you here by yourself like this.” There’s an empty bottle of wine buried in this pile somewhere, and he plucks it free by the neck. “Didn’t save any for me?” It’s supposed to be a joke. It falls flat.

“I didn’t want… I didn’t want to have to think.” “I know.” He pulls you into a sitting position, palm cupping your cheek. “It’s okay.”

“I can help,” he motions to the kitchen. “I know how good you are with rice.” His smile turns mischievous, bright blue irises sparkling in the low afternoon sun, and you glower.

“I’m not that bad.”

The sink gets clogged one afternoon.

You try to diagnose it yourself, scrolling through google results on how to DIY it, try standing on your own. You’ll have to get used to it; you guess. Being a widow and all.

The attempts last about thirty minutes. Just in time for your front door to swing open, little feet hauling down the hallway, your son breathless and excited to tell you all about his trip to the park with John and Gaz. John follows right behind, trying to remind him about Phoenix’s naptime.

He pulls up short at the sight of you next to the sink, a pile of tools in the bowl.

“I uh… it’s clogged.” His lips twitch into a half smile. “I tried to fix it; I thought I should try. You know since…” You still have a wrench in your hand, but Orion is tugging at your shirt.

“Here,” he takes the wrench, touch casual as two fingers of his wrap around yours. It’s innocent. It’s nothing. But here he is, fixing your problems. Selflessly again, helping you out.

You’re not sure where you’d be right now if he wasn’t around-

At the thought, guilt so violent almost makes you double over.

Cami and Gaz host a spaghetti dinner, and you leave the house for the first time in weeks, months even. Time is a thief.

There’s laughter coming from the living room when you open the door, Orion sprinting from your side to where his uncles and aunt are hanging out. When you cross the threshold, Nix cooing in your arms and a loaf of banana bread in your free hand, the voices screech to a stop.

“Hi.” Your enthusiasm is lacking, but you’re trying. You really are, even though this is all you can give. Cami smiles excitedly as John stands and crosses the room.

“Let me help you with that.” He grabs the bread, warm hand briefly settling in the middle of your back before it disappears, taking the baby bag off your shoulder. You breathe him in, cigar smoke and pine. It’s calming, somehow. Familiar. “You okay?” He knows how hard this is. Knows how you tossed the decision back and forth, unsure, uncomfortable. You did it for Orion, in the end. You can’t deprive him of his community, so you nod silently.

Cami pulls you into her arms, putting her finger in Nix’s fist and pressing her cheek to yours. “I’m so glad you came.” You manage a weak smile.

“Me too, I… it’s good to see you. And everyone. Ry was really excited.” You look past her to where Soap has him in his arms, moaning and groaning about how they’re nearly the same size.

You take a deep breath.

You can do this.

They tiptoe around you all night. It should bother you, but it doesn’t. You’re not ready for anything else. For stories, for meaningful conversation. Everyone keeps it light. They veer away from work. They treat you with kid gloves.

It’s fine, but it’s exhausting, trying to keep yourself under control. Trying to quiet the ringing in your ears, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

You almost manage it. But then someone slips up.

“- an’ that piece o’ shite. Simon was so pissed; I thought he was going to rearrange his face before he let him go.” Gaz laughs, you freeze. “He won in the end though, didn’t he? Always did, until-“

“Soap.” John cuts, and the table goes dead silent, as if they forgot. There’s a warm hand on your knee, but it’s not enough. Cami is shaking her head, blinking at him in horror, and Gaz glares. You stare down at a pile of peas.

“’m sorry,” Johnny whispers, stricken. “’m so sorry. I miss ‘im too, it helps… to talk about ‘im, ye know? I-“

“That’s enough.” John’s command is scathing.

You throw a quick excuse me over your shoulder as you make your way to the bathroom by the kitchen.

You try to breathe deep, but the oxygen doesn’t come as fast as you need it. You’re falling down the dern, despair filled hole that plagues your every waking hour. The reality you try to shove away, the fact that you’re here and he’s not.

Knuckles rap against the door. You undo the lock to come face to face with John, who steps inside and closes it behind him. You keep your gaze fixed on the floor, chest heaving. “Shhh,” he murmurs, pulling you close, “it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry.” He wipes the tears from your cheeks, tipping your face up.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Soap is oblivious sometimes.”

“It’s not up to me to tell people how to grieve.” He wraps you in a hug.

“It’s not, but he should treat you with respect.” You nod, drifting, trying to burn the words from your brain. You’re holding onto him. Clutching at his shirt, and he rubs a hand up and down your spine. It’s good. Warm, and comforting. You sink deeper, let him hold you, seeking solace. The strength you find in John.

You rest your cheek against his chest. “I’m so tired. I want to go home.” You whisper, and he smooths a hand over the back of your head.

“Okay. I’ll take you.” There’s another knock on the door, and you grimace.

It’s Cami. She has the baby on her hip, tears in her eyes. “I’m so-“

“It’s okay. Really. I’m just tired.” You’re lying, but you don’t have the heart to tell her the truth. She knows anyway. You never should have come. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“I figured. I packed some food to go, and Gaz has Orion at the door.” Your best friend, always so kind, so thoughtful.

“Thanks, Cami. I love you.”

“I love you too. Text me when you get home, okay?” She passes Nix into your arms, following her with a hug, and you press your face to her shoulder before pulling away.

“I will.”

It’s been three days since the dinner, despondency settling back into your routine like it never left.

The kids help, John too. They keep you focused. They keep you alive.

“An’ cookie!” John smiles. It’s the lips quirked to the side one, the gleam in his eye one, combined with his standard issue work hair and beard, thick cable knit sweater stretched across the firm weight of his shoulders. It’s navy. Complements his eyes.

A flicker of heat burns in your stomach, between your legs, taking you by surprise.

You’re staring. You’re staring and he looks away from Orion, meeting your eyes, a question forming in them until you clear your throat and glance away, focusing on the baby in your arms and the last of her bottle before trying to get Orion prepared for the end of his night.

“Come on little man, finish your dessert so we can get your pajamas on.”

“U’cle John help me.” His arms cross against his chest, and you give him a reproachful look.

“What do we say when we want to ask someone to help?”

“Please.”

“Yes, please. Good job.”

“Please ‘cle John?” John glances your way, hesitant, and you shrug.

“Sure, bud. Once you’re finished.”

The kitchen gets the final wipe down when John slinks out of Orion’s room, clicking the door shut softly behind him.

“Nix go down?”

“Easily. She’s never fussy. Sleeps like a dream. Thanks for helping with him.” There is a glass on the coffee table, and a bottle of wine. You meant to have some earlier but got distracted. “I was going to have a glass of wine and watch something, want to stay and hang out for a bit?” You love your kids, but only having a baby and a toddler to talk to all the time can get old fast, no matter how much you love them.

His fingers brush yours when he takes the second glass from your hand, and you swallow. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you shiver.

The movie is two hours long, but forty-five minutes and two glasses of wine in, your head starts to feel heavy, and your eyelids grow lazy.

“- want to go to bed?”

“No,” you sigh. Your head is quiet, and you’re curled up against something warm, drifting in the sweet space between sleep and waking, low volume of the tv murmuring in the background. “Gonna stay here.” The blanket is tucked around your shoulders, and you snuggle deeper, sagging into the cushions. You’re almost there, just on the cusp when you jerk. “Baby monitor.” You mumble, and a whisper traces an arc from your temple to jawline, touch so featherlight it’s hard to know if it was ever there at all.

“Sleep, dove. I’ll be here.”

“We were going to have another baby you know. He wanted another one so badly. Kept trying to knock me up every time he was home.” The ice rattles in your glass, and you cast a long look at the half empty bottle between the two chairs you’re in on the porch.

“He told me.”

“He did?”

“Mmm. Kept talkin’ about how you turned him into a caveman all the time.” You laugh. It’s real. A real laugh, something unbidden, releasing from your chest. John raises his eyebrows, and smiles.

“That’s how it was. He was always like that.” The stars are really bright tonight. They have been, ever since you buried him. You’re not sure if there’s less light pollution lately or if you’re just paying attention more. Sometimes you want to believe it’s something else entirely. If it’s a piece of him making them glow for you. Lighting up your sky. Wrapping you in a blanket of midnights, little collections of constellations in his arms. “They’re named after the stars, you know. The babies.”

“I know.” He sips his whiskey. “Orion the giant hunter, son of Poseidon, and Phoenix, rising from ash to be reborn.”

“Yeah.” You’re crying, again, and you wipe the tears away as quickly as you can.

“They’re beautiful names.” You don’t answer. There’s nothing to say, so the two of you sit there, side by side on the porch in silence until you break it.

“I’m angry at him. I’m so mad, he broke his promises. He broke all his promises and left me here. He left me.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose. He loved you so much.” You twist the ring on your left finger. It’s looser now, your inability to stomach most things starting to show. You wouldn’t have even noticed, or cared, unless John said something. ‘I promised I’d take care of you. That includes not letting you turn into a beanstalk.’

“He didn’t keep his promise.” There is the crux of it. All the promises made, only one kept. ‘Til death. Except he’s gone, and you’re still here.

Turning into a ghost.

“Can you hang out with the kids for a little bit tonight?” His brow pulls together, pinching in the middle, lines of his forehead wrinkling just bit, just enough to remind you of his age.

“Sure, everything okay?” Your eyes find your feet.

“I want to go to the cemetery.” His mouth opens, and whatever was going to come out of it disappears with his nod.

“Alright.”

You’re sick.

That’s the only way you can explain this, laying here on top of the plot, bottle of Kentucky bourbon in your hand. You’ve dumped some on the ground at the base of his stone, a toast of some kind, a sad, hopeless connection sitting one sided.

This is a special kind of agony. It’s the kind that wears you down. It makes you ill. It has you wishing you could dig up his coffin and crawl inside it. Sick. Rotting from the inside out.

“John’s kept his promise to you,” you manage another large swig, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “He’s always around. Helps with the kids a lot. Keeps us afloat. I guess he takes his pledges pretty seriously.” Another swig. This one leaks from the side of your lips. “I hate you, you know that? If you weren’t dead, I’d kill you myself. You weren’t supposed to leave us here. You were always supposed to come home. You promised.” You dig into the earth, dirt and grass compacting under your fingernails.

The night is dark and starless.

Figures.

You’d do anything to change this. Anything. You can’t carry it. You can’t bear it. It’s too heavy. Too much. For one moment, you’d like to not feel it, to not know the crushing weight of your grief. It follows your every waking minute. It follows you in your dreams.

When people die, there are always these fantastical stories floating around about their loved ones seeing a bird, or a cloud, or a rainbow. Some overwhelmingly positive sign leading them to believe the deceased is at peace.

It’s all bullshit.

There are no signs. There is no peace.

There’s only you, and the dead man you love in the ground.

It’s late when you make it home.

You probably shouldn’t have driven. It’s a short ride to and from the little graveyard on the hill, but you’re ashamed to have done it.

You know better.

“Didn’t hear you come in.” Your keys clang against the counter, forgotten as you turn to face him. The lie gives you pause. He knew you had come in. Simon never missed the sing of a door hinge, the latch of a window. You know they operate. How they function.

Still, you let it go. You don’t have the mental capacity to call him out.

He’s closer than you expected. Close enough you can smell him. It’s always the same, cigars and pine. Fresh needles fallen on the forest floor. He reminds you of it too in a way. The woods. Something about him, the way he fits into his sweater, the rough heels of his hands, like he’s felled a thousand trees and could go for a thousand more.

He’s got amber gold on the rocks in his hand, more whiskey. The ice has diluted it a bit, a thin watery film sitting on the bottom of the glass. You wrap your fingers around the rim and tip it to your lips. It burns. The clock ticks, the two of you breathe in and out. In and out.

“I can’t carry this.” You blurt, setting the glass down a little too hard. “I know you think I can… but I can’t. I’m drowning.”

“No one expects you to right now…” He’s talking, reassuring, supporting you, but there’s nothing except for his eyes. They’re the color of the ocean, the one you swam in the weekend Simon put the ring on your finger.

Your ears are ringing. Your blood is hot, the alcohol rewiring your brain until it conjures wild ideas about an escape. Maybe you don’t have to carry it, for a minute. Maybe you can close your eyes and share it with someone. Share it with him. Just for a minute.

“John.” You whisper, still focused on his eyes.

“What is it?” You twist your fingers in his sweater, dirt from under your fingernails getting caught in the wool, and he tenses, confused. “Hey, maybe-“ No maybes. You swing onto your toes and drag him downward, pressing your mouth to his in a rush. He grunts, but the kiss lingers until he pulls away. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes.” You can’t place the look he gives you, mind too far gone. If you were sober, you’d say it was significant. He cups your cheek.

“Let’s sit down and-“

“No. John. Please. Help me carry it. Please.” Electricity crackles in the air, his hand sliding to your neck where he holds it firm with two fingers.

“We can’t. Shouldn’t. It’s just the grief, it’s-“

“Please.” You raise yourself back onto your toes, and though he’s dead still, he doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t stop you as you kiss the corner of his mouth, beard brushing against your chin, and he doesn’t stop you when you find his lips again, parting your own, holding onto his shoulders.

He groans, hands drifting to your hips and digging into them, gripping you so tight, a pendulum swinging, pushing you away, pulling you back, until he gives in.

You’re kissing captain Price, for fucks sake. Your husband’s boss, his friend. One of the most important men in his life.

The betrayal burns.

This is wrong. So wrong, but there’s a wild piece of you that wants it. Likes it. The pieces that have taken solace in John have now turned to something else, something stronger, more vibrant.

It’s wrong. So wrong.

But in this moment, there’s nothing else but you and him and this decision. There’s no room for the other things that plague you.

It’s rough. You’re rough. He’s rough. You pin him against the kitchen counter, fumbling with his belt and zipper, sandpapered pads of his thumbs under your shirt and rolling over your nipples. You’re clumsy, disorientated, only saved when he spins you around and folds you over the cool surface. “Alright.” He murmurs like it’s just now kicked in what you’re doing, what’s happening in this moment, this sacrilege now staining you both. He kicks your feet wide, and rips your leggings to your ankles, tracing a line back up your thigh to shove his hand inside your panties and through your folds to push his finger inside you.

“Ah, John-” You hiss, arching your back, greedy for more, desperate for something, waiting and wanting, willingly going with him as he drags you to the floor, pushes you to your knees and bends you over, too big hand between your shoulder blades.

He fills you in a single stroke and you cry out, slapping a palm over your mouth to cover your scream, stifling the moans that follow. It’s a stretch, one that burns, too much and too soon, but this isn’t meant to be slow. It’s not a treasure, a sentimental unfolding of passion. It’s grief. It’s loss. It’s nothing like love. “Christ.” He grits, pinching your ass. “You’re bloody tight, sweet.” You can’t respond, your free hand digs against the hard wood, scrambling for something to hold onto as he shoves his cock against your cervix. You’re going to come unreasonably fast, already clamping down around him, tightening with the curl of your toes. “Be nice and quiet for me now, angel.” He pulls you up by your chest, mouth hot at your ear as he reaches for your clit, pinching the swollen nub and then smacking it with an open palm, your shriek barely muffled by your hand. He’s speaking, but you’re not quite catching it, too distracted by the blinding light on the outside of your vision, sparks blooming into fireworks. “Oh dove, you’re coming,” his mouth is on your cheek, kissing, nipping, and you turn to steel, vibrating with the strength of your orgasm, pathetic whines ghosting over his neck as your head tips back. He coos, brushes a hand over your forehead. It’s comforting, sick comfort for a sick girl. “Good girl, Shh, I know, I know it’s a lot.” The peak crashes, and you twitch, pulsing around him, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He comes all over you. Puts you back on all fours and curses under his breath, holding you steady, gripping your ass cheek so hard it will be tender tomorrow. The ocean rushes in your ears and you start to drift away, post orgasm, post fuck, sweaty and sated as he paints you.

“Fuck honey-“

I’ve got a lot of cum for you, honey

Tell daddy what you’re doing, honey

Can’t get over how good you taste, honey

Feel how bad I want to be inside you, honey?

The tip of the knife jams between your ribs. It penetrates your heart. It shreds organ and bone until the injury is so catastrophic, the only fix is death.

The noise you make is more animal than human.

Honey, honey, honey-

You flinch and crawl away panicked. He’s calling your name but you’re deaf to it, drowning in Simon’s voice.

Simon, your husband, who was the last man inside you. Simon who called you honey, and sweetheart, and mama. Simon, who’s body is cold in the ground. Who’s ring is on your finger.

Honey, honey, honey-

You stumble to your feet and make it to the sink just before the whiskey and bourbon comes shooting out of your mouth.

Sick.

“Promise me-“

“Shut up Simon. That’s an order.” He’s got her embroidered pocket square in his fingers, stained in blood, crimson dotting out the constellations. The radio crackles, but it only confirms what they both know.

Simon has minutes. They need at least twenty.

He shakes his head. John presses harder on his abdomen, pointedly ignoring the river of red spilling out beneath his palms. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much human bodies bleed. It’s not like he’s usually sticking around to watch.

“John.” Simon’s free hand latches onto the strap of John’s vest and jerks it roughly, pulling him closer. “You swear to me, right now. Do it.”

“I won’t. There’s still time. Stop talking, you need the oxygen.” His lips crack into a smile, gaze already starting to fall away, and then snaps to, refocusing.

“Tell her I love her. And that I’m sorry.”

“You’ll tell her yourself, Lieutenant.” He shakes his head, fist tightening over that little square, dragging to his heart, the organ beneath the vest that’s beating too slowly.

“John. Swear it. Promise me you’ll take care of her. You’ll take care of them.” There’s blood trickling down his jaw now, flowing from his lips. “She’s strong, but it’s gonna be hard. She’ll need you. The kids will need you. Nix is only a baby, she can’t-“ he coughs, shudders, and then his brow furrows with determination. “They can’t grow up without a dad.” John’s stomach, already an open pit, now rips into a black hole.

“You’re their dad, Simon. You are.” His voice cracks.

“Swear.”

“No.”

“Swear to me!” Simon shouts in his face, blood spraying on his cheeks. Gaz is yelling at them from twenty-five yards away, but it doesn’t matter. There’s not enough time.

They stare at each for seconds that are really eternity. They’ve been together in this hell, in this job, for so long. Suffered and slogged and killed together for so long. Simon isn’t just his team member, he’s a part of his life.

A rabid fucking dog brutalized and beaten down, now a husband, a father, a leader in his own right.

John pushes away the memory of the day he met Orion. The pride on Simon’s face. The pure joy.

He would never deny him.

They hold on to each other’s forearms. It’s goodbye.

“I swear it, Simon. I will take care of them. I promise. On my life.”

“And you’ll tell her I love her.”

“I will.”

He should have stopped you.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe it happened, but it’s not hard to remember. Not hard to remember how you felt, scorching velvet plush around his cock, not hard to remember the sounds you make when you come, how your pussy twitches. Not hard to remember how beautiful you were in his arms, shaking and crying, holding tight to him as he fucked you as deep as he could.

And it’s hard to forget the horror on your face. The way you crawled away like a wounded animal. The hoarse sobbing that came after the vomit in the sink. The way your knees gave out. The way you told him to get the fuck out.

Help me carry it.

It’s survivor’s guilt. It must be. Or trauma bonding. He’s been here for you, for the kids. He’s held you and wiped your tears and scooped you off the floor.

Because it’s his duty.

Right?

He can’t deny there’s something wrong with him, though. There’s something wrong with the way he barked at Soap during dinner, something wrong with the way he let you curl up beside him with your head on his stomach the night you fell asleep on the couch. He just sat there, stroked your cheek, rested his hand on his shoulder.

The guilt builds. It’s compounding, and fueling the anger, the rage directed at himself.

How dare he? How dare he betray Simon like this? How dare he try to take something that’s never been his?

He walks it like a tightrope. It’s his duty. It’s a betrayal.

Duty. Deceit. Duty. Betrayal. An oath. A line crossed, again and again.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do except crush and pulverize this thing trying to bloom. He rips out it by the roots.

Though he knows as well as any, determined things always find a way.

You don’t even look at him, and it gets under his skin. It feels wrong. Everything is wrong.

“Orion is almost ready.” You say over your shoulder, already moving away from him and down the hall, running but you’re not being chased. He’s supposed to take the lad fishing today. Orion has been looking forward to it all week, and you, quite frankly, don’t have the energy.

He catches you by the elbow and you jerk away, lips pressed together and eyes down. “Look at me.” You shake your head, glisten of tears catching in the early morning light streaming through the windows. He says your name, as softly as he can manage, and you tremble.

“I can’t do this right now.”

“Do what? Talk to me?” He’s pushing, and maybe he shouldn’t.

“Yes.” You hiss, venom twisting your face into a mask he’s never seen before. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk about what we did.” Your voice cracks on the last word, and it hurts in a way he didn’t expect. He wants to agree. He wants to wipe your face and tug you into his chest. He wants to bury the guilt ripping through him and turn around. Walk out the door.

He’ll do none of it. He’s a man of his word, above all else.

“When you’re ready then.” He nods as if it’s nonnegotiable, and then saved from a rebuttal when Orion runs full speed from his room. You turn on your heel and storm away.

Fine.

He’s at your door the next night for dinner.

You stand in the frame, arms crossed, anger etched into your face. “I don’t need your help tonight.”

“You going to make me a liar then?” He snaps, patience thin. The anger dissipates, and it’s replaced by that same despondent, dead look in your eyes that’s been making him sick since the day he came to the door. “Make me go back on my word to him?”

“John.” You whisper his name with shaking hands.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” There’s acid on the tip of his tongue. It’s stringent, bitter like the soap his mum washed his mouth out with. He doesn’t know why, but it stings. You look up at him, eyes so wide, so sad, so lost, he has to hold himself back from dragging you into his arms. “It didn’t mean anything, dove. It was just us. Just between us. Just grief.”

“Just grief.” You parrot, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes and down your temples. He brushes them away, and you surprise him by leaning into it. You smile weakly. “We’re having pasta bake.”

A few days later, and there are loads of laundry on your couch when he walks in. You throw him a desperate look, piles separated into toddler clothes, baby clothes and your own. They’re mountains, nearly at your chest when standing.

“Get a little behind?”

“I’ve been a little tired, I guess.”

“Can I help?” “Sure, want to fold onesies?” You laugh a little bit, enough to crack your lips into a small smile. He likes it. Likes your smile. It reminds him of the one you used to give Simon, the way it would break across your face, sunshine in a patch of clouds. He’d nuzzle your cheek, your neck, holding Orion on his hip with one arm, and you with another.

He stills, holding a small yellow piece of clothing.

Your husband. Simon was your husband.

And he’s the interloper.

Swear to me-

I swear it-

I will take care of them.

His ears ring with the bells of remorse, the song of at the beginning of a procession.

“John? You alright?” He’s been staring at you this entire time, but not seeing you, just seeing the past, seeing Simon, seeing everything that came before these moments where he’s being torn in two. He nods, not trusting his voice, his words.

“Will you be here for dinner tonight?” He usually is. It kills two birds with one stone. He makes sure you’re functioning; he makes sure you’re eating. It’s never been a question of you caring for the kids. The worry has been about you caring for yourself.

He can’t stomach sitting down for a meal with you and Orion today, so he lies. “I have to get home and get some work done.” You’re surprised, and then disappointed. He sees it so clearly and chooses not to dwell on it.

He can’t stay. He needs to work this out of his system.

You’re sad tonight.

Some days are really bad days, and then some of them are awful, like these. The ones where you move from bed to the couch, feeding and changing and dressing the kids on autopilot. He calls them your sad days, because he doesn’t want to call it what it is. Depressed days, despair days, you’ve given up days.

Some of the days are better, but these are the worst. It gets ugly at night, when the anxiety and fear becomes too much, when the loss crashes down too quickly.

The house is quiet, and you’re curled up in the middle of the bed under a heap of blankets, staring at the wall. You don’t acknowledge him when he opens the door or slips inside, you say nothing when he sits on the side of the bed. He lays a hand on your shoulder. You don’t react.

“Did you eat today?”

“A little.” He strokes your cheek, backs of his fingers gliding over soft skin, trying to rouse you a bit more, and you sigh.

“Kids go down alright?”

“Fine. Orion is upset he can’t sleep in our,” your face twists, “my bed anymore. But I placated him with too much ice cream.” You manage a smile then, and he matches it.

“That’s good. Nothing he won’t do for some chocolate yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is small. “John?”

“What is it?”

“Do you think it will ever go away?” He smooths some baby hairs back from your forehead.

“I don’t know, angel. Eventually it will hurt less, I imagine. But the loss will always be there.” Your cheeks glisten in the dark, sliver of light shining through the crack in the door from the hallway.

“I’m glad you were with him.” He bites the inside of his cheek so hard he bleeds.

“I am too.” Your fingers curl around his.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” The ache in his heart is back, doubling the beat, blood churning all the way to his toes. “Will you stay?” He shouldn’t, but he folds himself alongside where you’re under the blankets and tucks your head into his neck.

“Yes, dove. I’ll stay.”

The next time it happens is filled with rage.

You’re a wild animal, a wolf starved, teeth bared and snapping, claws out.

But you beg him for it. You plead. You demand.

It’s just us. Just grief. Take it from me. Why should I be the only one carrying this?

It’s wrong as he takes you on the bathroom floor, cold tile under his knees, warmth of your thighs bracketed at his waist. You dig your nails into his back hard enough to break skin, and he pins them back, his forehead knocked against yours, sharing breath. Sharing grief.

He breaks you down eventually, pushing his cock so deep you wail, holding you firm with a hand on your hip. He doesn’t want this, doesn’t want to betray him, doesn’t want to take his place in a home that could never be his.

Still. He can’t stop. He can’t help himself. He lives for your cries, the way you tighten around him when you come, how your eyes turn into bright stars at your peak.

It angers him. He’s always been a man of control.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, fuck, t’s not… it’s just-“ He snatches your jaw, and you look away.

“Look at me sweet. Look at me and tell this is just grief.” You can’t. You don’t. Instead, he shoves his hand between your legs and rubs your clit until you come.

When it’s over, you cry.

“Is this it?” He stares at Simon’s headstone. “Is this what you meant? Is this what I promised you?” Dead men don’t answer to anyone, ghosts don’t provide explanations. John replays those last moments in his mind, burning Simon’s face into his memory so he never forgets, so he never gets confused. He’s in another man’s place, a father and a husband’s place.

It’s been days since he’s seen you. Cami visits in his stead, which is good for you, better. You need a friend now, not him. Not whatever this is. Not whatever he’s done to you or vice versa.

He claps a hand on top of the stone, the same way he’d do it to Simon’s shoulder.

“I promised on my life, but I didn’t promise this.”

You haven’t seen or heard from John in nearly a month.

It didn’t bother you at first since they were gone for work, but when Gaz opened the front door to greet you two weeks ago, you were surprised.

They’re back and he didn’t reach out.

Why?

You miss him. It’s a shameful revelation, and a surprising one.

So much for the mourning widow.

“Mama, i’cream?” Orion is huddled between your legs, tugging on your jeans while you bounce Phoenix, trying to get her to settle before bed.

“No ice cream tonight baby.” His eyes well with tears, and the guilt hits you. Be strong. Don’t give in, you’re spoiling him too much.

“Let’s go get in bed and I’ll read to you, okay?”

“No! I’cream!” Your face crumples.

“Orion, please. I already said no. Now can you help mama and go get in your bed?” He flings his hands at your thighs, little face twisted up with rage.

Normally, you’re well equipped for the tantrums. It’s part of having a toddler, but tonight, it’s breaking your back. Wearing you down. You’re about to walk away, create some space, take a deep breath when the doorbell rings.

Literally saved by the bell.

Orion’s already running down the hall, bouncing on his toes as you open the door to see John on the other side. Weary. Weathered. “U’cle John!”

“Hey, bud.” He locks eyes with you, standing on the threshold, meeting your eyes unflinchingly. “Need some help?” You swallow.

“Come in, you’re letting all the heat out.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your mouth is on his, or his on yours, you’re not sure how it started. All you know is his arms are warm, and strong, and a safety net at the bottom of your life now, waiting outstretched for when you lose your balance on the tightrope.

“I know.” He does that thing where he cradles your face, stares into your eyes like he’s seeing an entire universe, one he’s never been to, a planet undiscovered, stars recently born and exploded across a night sky. “I know sweet, but- I can’t-“ It’s why he stayed away, he confessed earlier. Why he disappeared. It wasn’t fair, he knew that.

The guilt is crushing him. It’s crushing you.

“What’re we doing then?” It’s not right, whatever this is.

But his body pressed against yours, his arms holding you tight, it’s impossible to run from. Hard to hide.

It’s not just grief anymore. A hydra with a head cut off, two more born again from the wound. It's a flower blooming in a forest of ash, life finding a through the gash of a wildfire. A small, tiny, flame, desperate to burn.

“Just kiss me,” you breathe, mouths now millimeters away from one another. His chest heaves beneath your fingertips. “Just kiss me, John.”

“Daddy.” Orion pats his hand on the stone, little fingers digging into the engraving.

Husband. Father.

Your thumb finds the sapphire, rubbing the stone it in practiced circles, and Phoenix coos beside you, half buried beneath the wool of John’s jacket. “Ready to go home, little man?” You’re crouched behind him, holding him, kissing his cheek. This is a weekly tradition, the visit, and even in the dead of winter when it’s too cold for the kids, you never miss it.

Your commitment never wavers, your gold band a mirror to the one buried beneath your feet, an eternal tie to your husband.

‘Til Death.

You will never not be Simon’s wife, the mother of his children, his moon. You will never marry again. You will never have another child.

But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for a sunrise, a dawn, a new promise. An oath to John, though never formal or official in the eyes of the law, but true all the same.

The sun. The stars. The moon.

“Alright, we ready?” You press another kiss to your son’s face before scooping him up, taking one last look before nuzzling Orion’s face. “See you next week, Si.”

John lingers for a moment, a hand curled over the stone, fingers flexing into a squeeze. His eyes are distant, a world away, tangled up in the past for a long moment.

“Hey,” you call softly, extending a hand. “let’s go home.”

#peaches writes #price x reader #fix you by Coldplay #john price #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #through me (the flood)#captain price x reader

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nobodyinfart · 7 months ago

Text

Would they keep you as a secret from the crew?

For Johnny, I honestly doubt that man could keep it on the down low. I mean, he practically graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Yapperism, like fr he’s the certified yapper of the force. Soap would praise you to the high heavens, saying stuff like “my baby is such’a good cook, lads. I miss their food already.” even if he just came back from deployment. You could be meeting them weeks later and Captain Price is like “Oh, how’s your new job going for you?”, leaving you completely bewildered that Johnny talks so much about you that the team is aware of what’s going on in your life.

Ghost will definitely keep your relationship on the quiet side at first, since he’s genuinely certain that it will not last with his emotional baggage. However, you prove him indefinitely wrong, loving him through thick and thin even in his darkest days. Despite him not having said anything specific to the team, his body language tells the team that there’s someone special lighting up his days. Maybe it is the curve of his masked mouth as he smiles at your messages, or the way Simon stares a little longer at beautiful sceneries that remind him of you. And the beaded bracelet he wears on his wrist is the dead giveaway all the team needs to confirm that you are there waiting for him to come home.

Now, Gaz is the one that I am not entirely sure about. Since he isn’t as open about his personal life as Johnny but not as secretive as Simon, he may not treat your relationship as a complete mystery. Somehow, it makes it sweeter if Gaz were to let it slip from a conversation with the boys yet act completely nonchalant as if it wasn’t a secret to begin with. “Didn’t take you for a flower kinda guy, mate.” Soap commented when he watched Kyle stop by a florist to get a bouquet on the way off their base area. “Wanted to get something to surprise the darling back home,” Kyle replied without a blink, as if he had not said anything out of the ordinary. Also the one to comment that the team didn’t ask when Soap shrieks out why he hadn’t mentioned a loved one.

As the Captain on the task force, Price is no doubt not the type to dish out that kind of personal information straight away. Rather, your existence is evident in the necklace that has your promise ring looped on his neck at all times (yes, even on missions). In private, John kisses the ring with your initial engraved on the inside of the band as if a sort of subconscious reminder of what he’s fighting so hard for. I do believe that Price would be more open to talking about you to old friends, so Laswell knows of you well and would definitely have your contact in the scenario that anything goes south. Even with his expertise, you still worry about your lover on the field.

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barcaatthemoon · 2 months ago

Text

better off alone || barcelona x teen!reader ||

the team finds out that your foster parents left.

you were dead meat. jona wasn't there to vouch for you anymore. this season was sure to be your last. barcelona was on the verge of being done with you, and you weren't ready to go somewhere else and start over. having someone there to take care of you in a new city would be easier than your current situation, but you felt like you had found a family in your barcelona teammates.

they cared about you more than anybody else had. you had been bounced around foster homes and care facilities your entire life. this family wasn't good by any means, they had left you all alone after all, but your teammates more than made up for it. you had finally started to feel like a real person, and it was going to be yanked away from you in a matter of moments.

"where the hell have you been? you do know that we have a game later today, yes?" alexia grabbed onto your arm and dragged you inside. you stumbled a little trying to keep up with her. you were nearly an hour late for the pre-game training, but arrived just in time for the team meeting and the warm ups.

"sorry i was late, i tried to get here as fast as i could," you told her. it was the truth, and alexia was mad enough about you being late that she wouldn't pry. that was something you liked about dealing with alexia, her anger often clouded her judgement enough to never look too closely at the small details. she was easy to lie to because she'd generally accept the first excuse you threw her way.

"just go to the locker room, i'm going to talk to your parents," alexia told you. you wordlessly walked to the locker room and changed into your practice kit. you took the first open seat you saw, which was next to irene near the middle. everybody else was filing in as well, so you didn't draw too much attention.

"we missed you this morning," irene said calmly as she put her arm around your shoulders. you instinctively curled into her side. she didn't know the specifics of what you went through at home, but she always made sure to take care of you when she could. most of the team knew how close you were, but only alexia had an issue with it. she believed that irene babied you too much and that's why you were so "irresponsible" in alexia's eyes.

"sorry, i didn't have a ride here," you told her. you always told irene more than you'd ever tell alexia or the other captains. marta was torn between being tough on you like what alexia wanted and caring for you like irene did. you liked her well enough, but you didn't really talk with her much. patri, however, she was the one who you truly avoided whenever you were in a troubling situation. she took alexia's words to heart, and the two of you often butted heads.

"where are your parents?" irene asked.

"it's a long story," you mumbled. irene didn't like that answer and was about to press for more when alexia burst through the doors echoing the same question.

"(y/n), where are your parents!" you winced at the sound of alexia's voice and all of the eyes turning towards the two of you. you tried to turn into irene, but she wouldn't let you. with everybody staring at you and your secret on the verge of being put out into the world, you did what you knew how to do and bolted.

nobody made a move to catch you as they assumed you'd run towards hte exit alexia was blocking. that was how you made your escape, going the long way and making it all the way out of the stadium from the back. you ran until your lungs were burning, and then you ran just a bit further knowing that nobody was going to just leave and chase after you until after the game. you may never get another chance to play for barcelona, but you were on the way out anyway.

…

"you've got a lot of people scared right now. i know that you're probably also very scared right now, but i need you to come back with me please." of all the people you had expected to find you, olga wasn't very far up on the list. you knew alexia had to have asked her to look for you, but olga didn't know you well enough to know about your special spot.

"how did you find me?" you asked her as you stood up. you were a good few inches taller than the woman, always having been tall for your age. you seemed to still be growing, just half an inch shorter than fridolina.

"alexia gave me her phone, which has your phone's location. i don't know what use it is for her, she can't figure out how it works in the first place," olga laughed. you let her lead you back to the car without running away. "so, um, do you want to talk about what happened?"

"i was late for team stuff again, and it's not like they'll renew me. my contract has been up in the air for months now, and after this, i'm done for. maybe i can go somewhere else, but that's getting put in another home. i can't do that again, so i ran off hoping that nobody would find me," you rambled. olga took everything you were saying in, staying silent as she processed it.

"has anything happened at the home you're in now? alexia mentioned your parents a couple times, but not in a while," olga asked you. she looked like she was working through things in your head.

"they're gone, like for good. apparently, taking care of me wasn't worth the check. i've got too many obligations to keep up with," you repeated their words to olga, whose grip tightened on the steering wheel. the two of you ended up catching the last bit of the game, and olga brought you up to sit with alexia's family.

there were a lot of eyes on you, whispering going on around you because you weren't on the field. when the whistle blew for full time, you were brought down to the field. you tried to hide behind everybody around you, but it was no use. your practice kit stuck out in the sea of normal barcelona jerseys. it made it easy for your teammates to come and find you.

"ale, before you say anything to (y/n), we have to talk," olga said. you were grateful for the woman as your captain was led away. the other captains followed them at alexia's request, and you could see them talking to each other from the corner of your eye.

"don't be so scared of her. ale's not as scary as you think," alba said as she squeezed your hand. "just look at how olga bosses her around."

"they're going to fire me," you mumbled. there were tears in your eyes, ones that all of the people around you had been waiting for you to let go. it was obvious that you were terrified, and most of the people not on the team could see you for the scared little girl that you were.

"relax, go get yourself a drink and sit down," eli told you. her tone was gentle, yet commanding. there was no room for you to disobey the woman, so you grabbed the bottle with your name taped on it and sat down on the grass. nobody had approached you yet, even though you knew that your teammates had seen you. they were all waiting for one of your captains to go over there first.

instead of one of them, you got all of them. they stood around you in a circle, waiting patiently for you to acknowledge them. "i guess you know about my foster parents now."

"we do, and that's why we're giving you options. you can't live on your own, not this young. you are a part of this team, one of us, and we take care of our own. it's not permanent, but you will need to pick one of us to stay with for a couple of weeks while we talk to the club," alexia told you. you looked at the women standing before you.

"i don't understand. aren't you still mad at me for being late?" you asked her. alexia shook her head as she knelt in front of you.

"my anger has been misplaced, and i am sorry about that. i've been harsh on you, and i have been shown the error of my ways. for official purposes, you have to stay with one of us, but after that, other arrangements can be made," alexia promised you. you looked between all of them, overwhelmed with the option to choose.

…

"does this make me eligible for the norway camp?" you asked as you looked at the signatures on your adoption papers.

"what are you talking about? you're spanish," marta said as she ruffled your hair.

"actually, i'm not. they don't really know where i'm from, i just play in barcelona," you told her. marta's eyes widened as she raced out of the room to call alexia. you glanced at caro, who was trying to hold back a smile. "you aren't going to try and stop her?"

"oh please, we both know that you wouldn't play for another country. you're spanish in all the ways that count." she had a point, even if you'd never tell marta. you thought it was kind of funny watching her and alexia come up with more and more propaganda and bribes to keep you in a spanish kit. soon enough, they'd enlist the rest of your spanish teammates to the cause.

"yeah, but look at her. it's funny," you pointed out. the two of you walked out to the car, just in time to catch marta trying to plot something over the phone. you sat in the back of the car as they took you home, glad to finally have a permanent home with people willing to truly look after you. you weren't just a check to marta and caro, which was a welcome change.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #teen!reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona x reader #barca femeni x reade #barcelona imagine

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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Hiii! Could you write a Spencer Reid x fem reader who are dating & she’s super drunk, he needs to take care of her and she’s all “no I have a boyfriend who I love so much” and goes on a ramble about Spencer, not releasing she’s talking to him & he’s all heart eyes and giggly at her whilst trying to take care of her? Lots of fluff? Thank you!

The minute Spencer tries taking your hand to help you down from the booth you're squeezed into, you push his hand away, "No."

"No," You repeat, shaking your head with all the coordination of a baby deer, "Nooo sir. I am not going to be partaking in anything with you, because I have a boyfriend," You announce, your voice spanning over the entire table, even reaching Rossi who's at the head, "And I love him, and you're- just- fuck off."

Spencer's mouth falls open incredulously at your expletive, though a laugh escapes it rather than one of his own. "Oh, really? You've got a boyfriend?"

"Mhm." You nod proudly, settling back into your seat and burrowing away from his waiting hands into Emily's side, "He's tall, and he has a gun, so don't-" You choke on what Spencer presumes is a hiccup, but could very well be a belch, "Don't mess with me."

"You tell'im," Emily laughs, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and rubbing the chilly skin beneath the cutoff of your sleeves, "Do you want me to call Spencer for you, sweetheart? Have him come pick you up?"

"Yeah," You nod easily, your eyes set greedily on your friend's drink now that yours have been downed, "Can you tell him to bring me a blanket, too? I'm cold."

Unbeknownst to you, Penelope herds Spencer away to the edge of the patio your team is seated on, and there's a lingering smile on his face as he listens to what she whispers in his ear.

"I have a blanket in my car," She tells him, "It might have some cat hair on it, but you can totally take it! Go get it, and you can come back like we called you."

"Okay," Spencer's eager to take Penelope's keys from her when she shoves them into Spencer's hands, "Thanks, Garcia. Just make sure she doesn't drink any more, okay?"

A quick glance back at your table reveals Emily holding her glass to your lips, helping you tilt it backwards to dump the concoction down your throat.

"Uh- any more than that." Spencer clarifies. Penelope nods, rushing off to make sure you don't find Rossi's scotch.

Spencer returns barely two minutes later, discreetly dumping Penelope's keys back into her purse. Hotch and Morgan share a knowing smirk when Spencer pats you on the shoulder, and JJ pinches your side from across Emily to get you to notice the man standing beside you.

"Hi angel," Spencer croons, and your face lights up, shining brighter than the fairy lights strung above you, "Emily called me, she said you wanted me to come get you?"

"Spencer!" You cheer, and Emily shares her strength with you to hoist you into his arms where you cling to him like a koala bear, "Spence, you're here! There was this guy, and he tried holding my hand, and-"

"Oh, no," Spencer scrunches his nose, unable to stop himself from laughing when you take it as an invitation to smear yours against his own, "Not a guy! Are you okay, angel?"

"Mhm," You hum, tucking your face into his shoulder, "You're here now, Spence. And you brought a blanket, just like I asked."

"Of course I did," He beams, wrapping his arm tightly around your back as you settle over him like dead weight, "Uh- guys, can we get a bill?"

"Just go," Rossi waves him off, patting his pocket where you all know his rather thick wallet lies, "Take her home now, so that she can't run up my card with any more drinks, and I'll pay for the ones she already had."

"Thanks Rossi," Spencer grins awkwardly at him, flashing the man a strained thumbs-up before he has to use that hand to support the backs of your thighs once more, "Okay, honey, ready to go?"

You don't answer, and Derek leans sideways to peek at you.

"She's out," He snickers, "Pretty boy, make sure she's still breathing when you get home, alright?"

"Got it," Spencer chuckles breathily, "Okay, uh- bye guys."

There's a chorus of send-offs, and Hotch tilts his glass at Reid with an amused twinkle in his dark eyes, "Make sure you're both on time Monday. Hangovers don't excuse you from duty."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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musaslullaby · 3 months ago

Text

Stupid joke

George Russell x fem reader

Summary: Mercedes and George want to play a prank on George's Italian girlfriend.

Warning: just fluff

Masterlist

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"Well, umm… Mercedes wants me dead today. You’ve just witnessed my last race," said George Russell, extremely serious, as he spoke to the small camera wedged between the books in the living room cabinet.

In the distance, a familiar laugh echoed. "Mate, don’t be so serious!" exclaimed Lewis Hamilton, in that light-hearted tone that only a teammate and friend could get away with.

"You ruined my moment," George replied with a mischievous smile, looking off-camera toward Lewis, who continued to chuckle. After one last laugh, George refocused on the camera, the smile slowly fading, replaced by a mock expression of worry.

"They forced me," said George, pointing an accusing finger at Lewis and a Mercedes technician, "to play a prank on my girlfriend, and it’s going to end very badly," he added, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"Now you’re exaggerating," Lewis responded, still laughing, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "And you don’t know her well enough," George quickly retorted, giving Lewis a serious look.

"You're probably wondering what they’re making me do. For those who don’t know, my girlfriend is Italian, and these fantastic colleagues of mine," George continued, throwing an ironic smile at his friends.

"Thanks for the compliment," said one of the technicians, passing behind George.

"No problem. Anyway, I have to ruin her beloved food," George confessed in one breath, letting out a nervous giggle as he felt the anxiety about Yn's reaction growing.

After setting up all the hidden cameras around the house, the Mercedes team, along with Lewis—who had come only to enjoy his teammate’s nervousness—left, leaving George alone with his plan.

A few hours later, Yn returned home from work, tired but happy to see George. "Hi, amore" she said, hugging him affectionately as he was pulling the food out of the shopping bags.

"Guess what? We’re having Italian tonight," George announced with a smile, holding her close, trying to mask the nervousness that was gnawing at him.

They sat together on the couch, plates of warm carbonara in hand. Yn looked at him with affection and a hint of suspicion. "Are you sure you’re not trying to poison me?" she asked, laughing playfully.

"I promise, I didn’t even touch it," George replied with a playful smile, trying to hide the excitement for what he was about to do.

After a few bites of pasta, George furrowed his brow, pretending to be puzzled. "Something’s missing," he said, as if deeply reflecting.

"Yeah, maybe a bit of salt," Yn replied, focused on the carbonara, not paying attention as George got up to go to the kitchen.

When George returned with a bottle in hand, Yn’s eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t immediately recognize what was inside, but as soon as he started squeezing the contents onto the pasta, her heart skipped a beat.

"Wait, che cazzo stai facendo?" she yelled, snatching the ketchup out of his hands with an incredulous expression. "Are you crazy?"

"Come on, it’s not that bad," George replied, trying to downplay it, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. "You’re just overreacting."

"I swear, if you eat that, I’ll leave you," Yn threatened, her tone serious and loaded with a mix of anger and frustration.

But George, with a provocative smile, shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, chewing with satisfaction. "Oh my God," Yn exclaimed, nervously standing up from the couch, incredulous. "You didn’t actually do that."

"It’s good. Want some?" George asked, lifting the fork towards her, his smile growing wider.

Yn stared at him, anger boiling inside her, but instead of responding, she grabbed the bottle of ketchup and sprayed the entire contents all over him.

George stood still for a moment, feeling the ketchup trickling down his face and soaking into his shirt. The cold impact of the sauce made him shiver, but what struck him the most was the expression in Yn’s eyes: a mix of disbelief, disappointment, and anger on the verge of exploding.

Raising his hands in surrender, George tried to calm her down. "Okay, okay, I was just joking!" he said, slowly approaching her.

Yn looked at him, confused, furrowing her brows as she tried to understand what was happening. George wrapped her in a tight hug, despite the sticky sauce.

"No, George!" Yn whimpered, feeling the ketchup transferring onto her clothes, but he burst out laughing. With a gesture of his hand, he pointed to the hidden camera.

Yn looked at it for a moment, and then, realizing everything, she burst into laughter. "You and the Mercedes guys are such jerks," she said, guessing that the Formula 1 team had a hand in the prank.

"So, do you forgive me?" George asked, making puppy eyes as he picked up the small camera, hoping for a happy ending.

"Yes," Yn replied with a smile. George, equally relieved, kissed her on the cheek, but she quickly added, with a more serious tone, "But my revenge is coming."

"Oh no," George murmured, pretending to be scared as he looked at the camera, knowing full well that with Yn, revenge could be sweet… or very spicy.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #fanfiiction #formula one #formula one imagine #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell #gr63 #gr63 x reader

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worldofstoriesanddreams · 14 days ago

Text

Isn't there an age limit?

The Justice League gathered in the meeting room to deal with yet another potential world ending threat. On the screen was a projection of an incoming alien armada. The invaders were as numerous as the stars. Each spaceship looked like a skull with many tentacles.

“These mechanical ships harvest a world’s resources, destroying all life, while terraforming the planet into servers which become part of Brainiac’s interstellar network,” Batman explained.

“We don’t have sufficient numbers to take them all down,” Martian Manhunter pointed out. “Is there a weakness we can target? Or do they have a leader we can capture to force the entire fleet into submission?”

“We need to locate Brainiac and infiltrate the ship he’s on.” While Batman spoke, a hush silence fell on the entire room. Everyone stared at the screen behind him, with mouths wide open.

Turning around, Batman stared in unbelief.

A massive sphere - a dead star, moved between Earth and the alien army.

The cameras zoomed in on a red dot pushing it - Fawcett’s new local hero with the demeanour of a golden retriever - Captain Marvel.

Gripping the titanic star like an oversized plastic ball, he swung it forward, hitting the incoming spaceships out of the galaxy.

The Herculean man’s face lit with childish glee as he pumped his fist in the air.

Grinning like an idiot, he carted the unimaginably heavy celestial object away, while whistling a ditty.

How powerful was that man?

More importantly, does he have any weakness in case he needs to be taken down?

“Phew,” Flash was the first to get his voice back. “The new guy took care of that. So can we go home now?”

“No,” Batman raised his hand. “Change of agenda. It’s time we expanded our membership.” Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. What better way to keep an eye on the new guy than to bring him into the fold.

Superman had a silly hopeful grin on his face. “I vote we invite Captain Marvel to join the League.” The Last Son of Krypton must suspect that the new hero is a fellow Kryptonian.

“We don’t know anything about him,” Green Lantern cautioned.

“Better get him on our side than have him join our enemies,” Batman replied as the screen showed photos and articles about Captain Marvel gleaned from the internet for all to study.

“He’s clean.” Cyborg ran his checks on the man. “He’s a boy scout. Half of all the footage I have found — and I mean exactly half — shows him rescuing cats from trees or helping little old ladies cross the road while carrying groceries for them.”

“Cast your votes,” Batman ordered. “Do we want Captain Marvel to be a member of the Justice League?”

The decision was unanimous. Captain Marvel has a place in the Justice League, that is, if he wants it. With his power set, he would be a valuable asset to the team. All appearances of the new hero have shown that he is one of the good guys.

“I’ll ask him,” Superman volunteered. He was dying to meet the new guy. He had to be a fellow Kryptonian. Though he must have a chat with The Captain about Bat-paranoia, to hide how much Kryptonians can really do. Otherwise Bats might break out his Kryptonite stores to hit them both.

For example, while pushing a titanic star, for goodness sake, please make it look a lot more challenging.

According to Cyborg, Captain Marvel would appear in Fawcett right after a massive lightning strike from the clear, cloudless sky. The hero tended to patrol Fawcett for an hour before seven in the morning and for an hour after three in the afternoon on weekdays. His schedule was more unpredictable during the weekends.

Clark was a reporter.

Could The Captain be an elementary school teacher in his civilian identity?

It was a quarter past three on a Wednesday afternoon. Superman hovered four hundred feet above Fawcett’s busiest square, drawing a curious crowd while he waited for Captain Marvel to make his appearance.

Lightning struck an alley near a local elementary school.

“S-superman!” Captain Marvel hovered in front of him.

The man’s brilliant blue eyes brimmed with excitement as he stared at Superman with an open-mouthed grin.

“What brings you to Fawcett?” The Captain’s cheeks flushed as he stiffened, arms crossing his heavily muscled chest. If Superman didn’t know any better, he’d think Captain Marvel was starstruck.

“Captain Marvel,” Superman began, feeling a little self conscious.“I come on behalf of the Justice League. We’ve seen what you can do and want you to join our team.”

“You want me to join the Justice League?” The big guy was practically bouncing with excitement. If he were a golden retriever with a tail, he’d be wagging it.

Just as abruptly, he looked down, slouching as if trying to shrink his large frame. “But isn’t there an age limit to join the League?”

“We don’t discriminate against anyone based on their ages.”

Superman whispered conspiratorially. “I don’t even know how old I was when my ship landed on earth. For all you know, it could have taken lightyears to get here.”

“Hmm,” Captain Marvel rubbed the back of his neck. “If you say so.”

“Take your time to think about it,” Superman handed him a League communicator. “This is for you. If you want to talk to us, just press this button,” he showed The Captain how to use the device.

“For me?” The guy looked as excited as a kid who had received a shiny new toy.

“Yes, for you,” Superman replied. “Call us when you’ve decided.”

“I want in,” Captain looked up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Then, welcome to the Justice League!” Superman shook his hand. “Come with me to our headquarters.”

The flight to the Justice League’s Headquarters with Superman was fun.

That giant satellite that Cap often flew past when he left earth’s atmosphere was the Justice League’s Watchtower - a secret meeting place for Justice League members.

Billy was flying with Superman.

Elated.

The SUPERMAN!

How cool was that?

His hero was a lot chattier in person.

Superman talked about Krypton, his home world. His dad uploaded all Krypton’s history and knowledge into the A.I. of the spaceship that brought Kal-el to earth.

Kal-el was Superman’s birth name.

“What’s your birth name?” Superman asked?

“William,” Cap replied.

“Wil-em,” Superman looked deep in thought.

“The Ems — I think I know your bloodline.”

“You do?” The thought that Superman even cared about Billy’s family warmed him like a cup of hot chocolate. But as far as Billy knew, he was a Batson, not an Em. He was four when he lost his family. It’s been three years since. His memories of Daddy, Mummy and Mary were beginning to fade.

“Come with me to my Fortress of Solitude after your induction and I’ll show you Krypton’s records about the Ems,” Superman grinned as he tapped on the satellite.

A panel slid open.

“Where is it?” Cap asked as he flew into the airlock.

“In the Arctic,” he accompanied Cap in the dock.

“Are there polar bears?” Cap felt giddy with excitement.

“Plenty,” Superman laughed as he walked Cap through the massive hall. It was like nothing Billy had ever seen.

“I can introduce you to a family of friendly bears,” Superman grinned.

“I would love that,” Billy’s heart did flip flops over the thought of getting to meet polar bears who were friends with Superman. Cap could speak all languages. He’d have a great time chatting with Superman’s bear buddies.

“Holy Moley,” Captain Marvel exclaimed as he walked through the security checkpoint. The doorway opened into futuristic corridor with interactive walls and holographic displays.

Announcing the arrival of Superman and his guest Captain Marvel, a tinny voice rang out.

“Brace yourself,” Superman whispered. “The rest of the League is waiting for us in the meeting room.”

A metallic panel slid open revealing a grand meeting room. Batman sat at the head of the long table. Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Cyborg and Aquaman sat around it. There were two empty seats.

All eyes were on Captain Marvel.

“Holy Moley,” Cap whispered. He couldn’t help himself. It’s a bad habit he picked up from his late father.

“Guys,” Superman announced. “Captain Marvel has agreed to join the Justice League.”

The room broke into applause.

“Welcome to the team,” Flash whooped.

“Let’s celebrate,” Aquaman tilted a large bottle of whiskey, filled a glass and slid it across the table to Captain Marvel.

Cap looked at the glass in front of him and back at Aquaman. “Isn’t there an age limit?”

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #billy batson is captain marvel #captain marvel #shazam #dcu #fan fiction #justice league

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giselleloversclub · 2 months ago

Text

NCT SMAU REC

MARK LEE :

Cryptic crush @jji-lee

Fuckboy mark x fem reader

are you looking for something deeper than just superficial romance? of course you are! sm university presents : cryptic crush the only on campus app that is 100% anonymous. sign up now and we'll randomly pair you with someone ready to chat! who knows? they might be the one...

I WANNA FUCK MARK LEE @luvyeni

Idol mark x YouTuber reader

in which a clip of you goes viral in ncity twt and it gains the attention of mark lee ( the center of the tweet ) — and all he can think is 'why saying chenles' cute friend saying she wants to fuck him?'

Personal fav

WHEN YOU SMILE @svnnw

Mark x fem reader

Fake dating au

after barely passing your recent exam you're now desperately looking for someone to tutor you so your friends wouldn't worry about you and your grades.

or in which you find yourself making a deal with mark lee, a top students who seeks for your help. mutual benefit right?

DOWN BAD @hyuckswoman

musicmajor!mark x fem!reader

in which a random business major finds herself joining a random music class not knowing the guy she had been fawning over attended it aswell.

Maybe after all her efforts he’ll finally notice her? After all this was the IT guy mark lee, what else could she have done but fall in love with him?

I GOT MY ION YOU @chenlesfavorite

Tutor mark x fem reader

you’ve failed yet another chemistry exam, high chances are you’re gonna have to retake the entire class next year and miss out on almost all school breaks due to studying and fixing your bad grades, and that is until your trusty friend suggests a tutor to you.

LOST IN TRANSLATION @spiderm444rk

business major! mark x fem journalism major! reader

you, as the promising journalism student of NCUT, were more than willing to join the school magazine when you got offered. to your disappointment, the only section they let you have is the anonymous confessions one - which is mostly really, really boring. i mean, who even posts any cool confessions nowadays ? especially in a damn college magazine? they only offered you the job no one else wanted.

on the other hand, mark, a business student, was never more annoyed with the choice of his major. sure, business is cool and hopefully it'll earn him money, but it's not something he could really get into. he always wanted to do music. but after long considering, he chose business instead, to make sure he gets a real job in the future. and he doubts that choice was correct more and more every day.

once the school band announces they're looking for a new guitarist, he's absolutely ready to apply until he reads the music students only part. pissed off, he starts typing a message to the ge, but it ends up going to a different number - and you finally get to help some poor random stranger who confessed with something interesting.

DREAM BOYFRIEND INCOMING @wonbin-truther

College student mark x fem reader

it wasnt your fault mark was the first profile to appear on your instagram! and it was most definitely not your fault when you told your annoying older cousins that mark lee, the captain of your unis soccer team, was your boyfriend and somehow got him invited to the next family reunion ...

DEAL OR NO DEAL ? @yutarot

Basketball player mark x Drummer reader

when you and your best friend mark realise the severity of your shared single-dom, you make a bet with each other that the first person to get in a relationship wins. what happens when the bet gets pushed a little too far? and who will be there to stop it?

OLD BLOODHOUNDS @mvrkieboo

College student mark x college student reader

You and Mark go all the way back to your childhood years, getting to know each other through your older brother. When you were both just 15 years old, you made a choice that broke your brother's heart, and you were dead to Mark Lee ever since. You never got to reconcile with him as you moved away.

Now, you meet again in your college years, and Mark is noticing there's some weird things about you. First of all, are you a sugar baby?

FRONT ROW @beomqu

Guitarist mark x college student reader

it is a habit of y/n to attend ENCT's festival every year and this year isn't any different. while enjoying the festival and waiting for her friend's favourite artist to perform they stand in front row of a band they have never seen before.

——————————————————————————

HUANG RENJUN

MUSE TO MUSE @404tytrack

Art student Renjun x fem reader

in which the art and photography departments pair up students for a collaborative project, & the art to your photography is renjun. the prompt: earth's beauty. with differing opinions on how to do the project, will you & renjun be able to work together & get a good grade?

MESSENGER @dojunie

College student Renjun x fem reader

Stranger to lover au

YOU FIND A PHONE NUMBER WRITTEN ON THE MIRROR OF THE SULIM LIBRARY'S SECOND FLOOR BATHROOM. It's scrawled messily across the glass in erasable expo marker, the handwriting underneath almost closer to hieroglyphics than lettering— and what you thought it read, was 'SEND DUCK PICS FOR A GOOD TIME.'

——————————————————————————

LEE JENO

HOT TO GO @sungiejpg

Idol jeno x aespa stylist fem reader

being aespa’s stylist is an easy and a lovely job, that’s what yn thought until she met Jeno by mistake. She now finds him scary

TWIN FLAME @justalildumpling

College student Jeno x fem reader

Stranger to lover au

chenle was convinced that his two introverted friends were destined for each other so what does he do? bribe them to text each other of course ⎯ or alternatively, when jeno started to fall for an anonymous mutual friend of chenle's

Personal fav

FIDING CINDERELLA @justalildumpling

Jeno x fem reader

it wasn’t often jeno showed emotions of love and affection, let alone kissing a stranger at a party that he doesn’t even remember?! determined to find his nameless cinderella, he began searching the campus far and wide but as hidden secrets started surfacing, he started to wonder whether the midnight spark was meant to be pursued after all.

——————————————————————————

LEE HAECHAN

AT MIDNIGHT @svnnw

Non idol Haechan x fem reader

after y/n's boyfriend broke up with her, all her friends tried to distract her by sneaking into a college party not knowing she was going to find new friendships and possibly a new relationship.

Personal fav

SHE’S THE MAN @yutarot

Gamer Haechan x gamer fem reader

after you discover your love for gaming, you soon find out that your college won’t let you in any of their e-sports teams due to your gender. but what happens when your twin brother leaves town just before he’s about to start at a new college, where not even NCU’s e-sports captain, lee haechan knows anything about him? there’s only one problem, your brother’s crazy ex is trying to hunt you down. will they all find out your true identity? and will their views on you change if they discover who you really are?

BLOOMING HEARTS @jji-lee

Flower shop owner Haechan x fem reader

Enemies to lover au

a new flower shop has opened up in front of your dorm housing and has been creating problem after problem for you. now you and shop owner, lee haechan have an ongoing feud that neither of you are willing to put to rest. as the weather cools and the flowers wither away maybe something else will begin to bloom between you two…

or alternatively, your battle against a ridiculously attractive flower shop owner (spoiler you lose)

ONE NIGHT ONLY @mrkified

College student Haechan x fem reader

three years since your falling out with lee donghyuck he has suddenly transfered to your college in hopes to make it big with his friends in his band. unfortunately for you, your unresolved friendship started causing problems between you and the people around you, especially since your best friend is his ex. so — why have you found yourself in his room with a raging hangover?

DIVINE TIMING @v1si0n

College student Haechan x fem reader

you confessed to your longtime crush, donghyuck, back in high school because you figured you guys would never see each other again. you begin to question your faith in the universe when you run into him on a rainy tuesday night, and you start seeing him every day after.

BAD IDEA RIGHT? @i-kai

Idol Haechan x idol fem reader

dating lee donghyuck was every hopeless romantic’s dream. his late night serenades, affectionate touches, secret song dedications, and endless love letters were just some of the things that you — the hopeless romantic that got to live said dream — were on the receiving end of. everything seemed perfect, right?

until you received the worst message ever in your life two weeks before you made your debut. the four words, “we need to talk” made your heart drop from what felt like a skyscraper filled with all the sanity you had left.

after that, you’d never give your ex a chance ever.. again.. right..?

DEAR MR. CUPID @justalildumpling

Childhood bsf hyuck x childhood bsf fem reader

it’s no lie that haechan only started his college matchmaking business due to his nosy personality. it’s also no lie that he was a little jealous of everyone he had helped out as he had no love life of his own. well, that was until his childhood friend moved back and mysterious love notes started appearing in his matchmaking inbox… addressed to HIM?!

ALWAYS FOREVER @jaeyunluvbot

Streamer hyuck x streamer fem reader

y/n and haechan are both well-known streamers with overlapping fandoms, what happens when they're paired up for a fortnite tournament?

THE DREAM STORE @jammingjaem

Idol Haechan x producer fem reader

rising up in the music industry as a young songwriter and producer, you wouldn’t think that you’d get hired by sm entertainment and write a song for your favorite group. although there was one downfall: you don’t think making music makes you happy anymore. but the endearing and charismatic lee haechan has swept you off of your feet. and here you’re asking yourself— what are you waiting for in life?

GG (GOOD GAME) @sunflowerhae

Fanboy Haechan x YouTuber/streamer fem reader

Famous YouTuber and Streamer y/n just moved in next door to scholastic loser haechan! No sweat for him! No big deal! Not like he has her picture above his computer! Not like he owns her merch that he stayed up all night to get! Not like he cried when she started playing his favorite video game! Not like he’s completely and utterly obsessed with her and all his friends know it!

FEIN @anglswon

Ex bf Haechan x fem reader

In which you finally find a new plug to feed your addiction but he’s annoyingly attractive.. and your ex.

WHO ARE U ? @sungiejpg

College student Haechan x fem reader

when renjun asked her to create a fake twitter acc to take revenge on haechan she did not expect to fall in love

I LOVE YOU I’M SORRY @hhie

Idol Haechan x dancer reader

2 years ago , you and your best friend fell in love with one another. Only for him to leave you and cut you off with no explanation. What if , 2 years later, you decided to take a big step into your career, thinking that it is the best decision you’ve made in your life.

Unaware of what’s going to happen … you should be fine right?

——————————————————————————

NA JAEMIN

DON’T BLAME THE LOVECATS @yojeongin

Neighbor Jaemin x neighbor reader

jaemin and yn have never had a good relationship due to their troublesome cats but it only gets worse when both felines cause chaos and wreck property forcing these enemies to spend day and night together to avoid eviction and charges for the troubles, not expecting this experience to lead them towards unexpected information and interesting feelings.

WHY ME ? @sungiejpg

Enemies to lover au

he is known as the nicest guy on the faculty who gets along with everyone, well…maybe not everyone

Personal fav

LOVE ON THE COURT @polarisjisung

Basketball player Jaemin x basketball player reader

Enemies to lover au

every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

SURF’S UP @mrkified

Coworker Jaemin x fem reader

Jaemin’s crush on you wasn’t a secret — everyone seemed to know except you, who always thought of him as your nice coworker from the morning shift. As summer was about to start again, Jaemin was ready to change his relationship with you. But how could he, when you had a crush on another coworker — Sungho. Everything seemed to change when you offered Jaemin swimming lessons, giving him a chance to get closer to you.

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO @sourrpatched

Coworker Jaemin x fem reader

Overworked at her understaffed job Y/N finds it hard to enjoy this summer vacation even with the school semester having ended. It doesn’t help that it seems nobody is interested in working at a little coffee shop even if it’s just for the summer. That is until fate brings Jaemin into the picture who happens to be desperate for a job and love. Let’s just hope this time around he can actually keep it.

or, the one where jaemin needs a damn job and Y/N needs a damn break.

SEX FASHION GUITAR @luvyeni

rockstar jaemin x stylist reader

l/n y/n fashion major and photographer on the side who says what she wants, na jaemin music major and lead guitar player for underground band DREAM. After yn forgets her to change her account and says something that catches the eye of jaemin she tries to ignore him — expect thanks to chenle she now works for them.

YOU CAN'T HAVE ME... UNLESS? @justalildumpling

College student Jaemin x fem reader

after getting ghosted by your crush in high school, you swore off dating at university, earning yourself the title of ‘the unattainable’. after 3 years you were convinced that there would be no way the two of you would ever cross paths ever again. well, that was until he announced that he was your boyfriend at a party.

——————————————————————————

ZHONG CHENLE

NIGHT RIDER @chenlesfavorite

motorcyclist chenle x fem reader

working night shifts 24/7 at the convenience store while also supporting your boyfriend’s obsession with watching motorcyclists race is not easy, but little did you know that one of the bikers that he loves soon gets involved with you.

FOLLOW ME NOT @lowkeychenle

idol chenle x fem reader

After Chenle "accidentally" hits the follow button on Twitter, you try to get him to unfollow you by any means necessary, even if he's keen on staying right where he's at.

ICED LOVE LETTER @jammingjaem

college student chenle x ice skater fem reader

at ncit, figure skater y/n receives daily letters signed ‘zcl’ from a secret admirer. as she gears up for a crucial showcase, the mystery of ‘zcl’ fuels her determination throughout the semester, leading to an unfolding journey of curiosity and motivation.

WE YOUNG @a3r3n

childhood friend chenle x fem reader

A sudden change happens in y/n's life when her father kicks her and her mother out after their divorce, and they're forced to leave China to go back to South Korea. Luckily her mother's best friend lives there with her son Chenle, one of y/n's childhood friends, and they're willing to host them until they find a better place to stay. But now that y/n and Chenle have both grown up, will their friendship be the same as when they were children?

SERÁ UNA NOCHE INOLVIDABLE @galacticseonghwa

biker chenle x fem reader

your friends were all you needed, they were your brothers from another mother they loved to say. but that all went to shit after ricky dragged you to one of his motorbike sprints.

who are you to say no when ricky's opponent claws his way into your inner circle and present himself as your dream man?

——————————————————————————

PARK JISUNG

LIE WITH YOU @strrykais

art student jisung x astrology student fem reader

you were nervous, and that was an understatement. you actually couldn't believe that you were able to transfer into your dream school, leaving behind your family, your home, and your loving boyfriend. when you meet your upstairs neighbors, things start to change for the better - or worse. you tried everything to keep your distance from the boy that showed her the stars in the sky have nothing to the ones in his eyes. he knows it won't last, and you know it too. personal fav

SCORE THAT GOAL @lqfiles

football player jisung x fem reader

after your college had announced that all the students were required to join a club and attend it twice a week, you were planning on either a) dropping out, or b) join the art club and pretend to be sick most of the times. that was before you discovered that park jisung is a long time member of the football team. change in plans: you LOVE football.

or in which you mindlessly join the football club in hopes of catching your crush’s attention (and to maybe secretly check him out too) who cares if you can’t even kick a ball up in the air?

GAME ON ! @hyuckswoman

astronomy major jisung x astronomy major fem reader

a story in which y/n finds herself meeting her roblox bestie in real life. turns out he’s not exactly everything she hoped for… who would’ve thought her nemesis park jisung would be user plumblossomer

DRUM ME STUPID ! @jirsungs

drummer jisung x fem reader

a story about a college student enjoying her life in school perfectly fine, until one of her friends drags the group along to watch their school's band perform. little did she know that day would be marked as the day her whole world turned upside down because of a particular, nonchalant, and difficult drummer boy. a drummer boy who spilled his entire drink on her brand new outfit at a party and never came back.

LINGER @beomgewz

college student jisung x fem reader

despite all of your efforts, you still cannot get over your 5 year crush on the shy boy from high school. to top everything off, he has a long term girlfriend of 3 years!

THE BOTLER @lowkeychenle

Your friends call you "the bolter," because every time someone gets close, you run in the opposite direction.

When you meet Jisung, things are working behind the scenes--things you can't see and don't acknowledge.

Can you overcome your metaphorical running in time for Jisung to secure your heart?

RAINBOW @a3r3n

park jisung x fem reader

Y/N has just moved to Seoul from her home country and finds herself now alone with her parents, but no friends. Fortunately, her neighbor Chenle is a guy her age, nice and fun to be with, and they eventually become friends, even attending the same International Class for Transfer Students at Nct High. But what will happen when y/n meets Chenle's friends, and one of them catches her eye? And what if things don't go as planned?

——————————————————————————

#nct x reader #nct #nct dream #nct u #nct smau #nct dream smau #nct smau rec #nct dream smau rec

586 notes · View notes

megalony · 3 months ago

Text

Exploding Emotions

As promised, this is the new Evan Buckley imagine I have been working on, I am very happy with this one and I hope you will all like it.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: While out on a call, an accident gives (Y/n) flashbacks to the night her husband got trapped beneath the fire truck and what happened to her while he was stuck.

Enjoy.

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

"Okay, what have we got?"

The team clambered out the truck one by one, each sorting their gloves and reaching for their helmets while they followed after Bobby. The Captain led them away from the truck and towards the scene they were here to assist.

(Y/n) could feel her legs starting to ache and she was beginning to lag behind. This was their fifth call and they weren't even halfway through their shift yet, and they had come here straight after their last call. They hadn't been back to the station for a drink or a snack or had a moment's peace.

Added to the fact that this was an evening shift, (Y/n) felt like dropping down here and now in the middle of the road.

She shrugged on her florescent jacket and stood near Ravi, looking out at the scene.

Each of them could feel their shoulders sagging and a grimace flooded their faces in turn when they looked around.

A lorry had crashed at an intersection. The large metal lorry was now on its side right in the centre, with a mangled up car resting in front of the bonnet. There were at least four other cars scattered around who had either crashed together, hit posts or swerved and burst a tyre trying to get out of the firing line.

"Hen, Chim, head for the lorry and the collision car in the centre, those drivers will be the worst off. Everyone else, fan out around. If anyone can walk, guide them to safety and get them off the scene."

Bobby's orders fell upon deaf ears when (Y/n) looked at the scene ahead of her.

The hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle and stand on end as a cold shiver passed through her blood. She could feel her lungs tightening and closing up and her eyes zoned in on the lorry.

It was the same crimson shade as the fire truck. Those bright headlights were shining in her direction, they were calling out to her.

It looked just like the scene over a year ago that (Y/n) had to endure watching over the news.

The scene that tore out her heart and made her feel like she was witnessing the end of the world with no way of helping. Being a firefighter meant it was in (Y/n)'s nature to help people. She wasn't used to sitting back and watching from the sidelines, unable to do anything at all. And when it had involved the one person who meant the entire world to her, everything else had become insignificant.

Dread clawed at (Y/n)'s lungs as she felt herself beginning to shake. It felt like a decade had passed since that night, but standing here, staring ahead at that crumpled lorry in the middle of the road, in the dead of night, (Y/n) suddenly felt as if the last year had evaporated into dust.

She felt like she had been transported back one year with her wish of being able to be on scene and do something to help. To look after Evan and get him out.

Was he there? Was Evan laid out on the concrete with one leg practically split apart and a hundred tons of metal crushing down on him? Was he pinned to the floor, unable to move in any direction? Was he screaming until his lips were blue and his lungs were on the verge of giving out? Was Evan in mass agony, violently screaming for someone to do something to help him when no one stepped forward to save him?

"(Y/n)? Everything okay?"

A quiet round of "He's not here," murmured beneath her breath, so quiet that her dad didn't catch a word.

But he could see by the faint, distant look in her constricted eyes and the trembling that set in her body that she wasn't here. She wasn't on scene with them, not mentally. Her mind had gone somewhere else and although he didn't know where, he could see she needed a few moments to come back to the present.

His eyes widened when he watched her suddenly stumble before she crashed down to her knees. Her arms were pinned around her waist with her head lolled to one side, but Bobby could see her eyes were intently focused on the scene ahead of them.

They couldn't see any of the number plates from this far away and there weren't any casualties yet or anyone they knew here on scene. So (Y/n) couldn't be panicking about having family or friends meddled up in this collision.

He hurriedly crouched down in front of her, moving his hands to hold her arms while he leaned his head to try and get within her line of sight. But even when he was in her view, it was like she was looking through him rather than at him. She wasn't here, she was lost.

"Honey, talk to me. Are you okay?"

Relief overtook Bobby when (Y/n) managed to nod her head. She could hear him. She hadn't collapsed in pain or mass agony, she wasn't having some kind of stroke or seizure or some sort of episode. Something was clearly going on, but it didn't seem to be a dire emergency.

Bobby couldn't be doing with any more emergencies. Not after this last year with Evan and all his operations on his leg and him and (Y/n) struggling to cope with those and a newborn baby. (Y/n) had only just come back to work from maternity leave while Evan's return to work date was still to be determined.

His daughter and son-in-law had been through enough.

"I just… I need- need a minute." Her voice sounded distant even to herself and she kept leaning her head to the right until she could look around her dad and stare back at the lorry that was looking more and more like a fire truck to her hazy eyes.

"You sit this one out, get back in the truck. I'll be back in five minutes, if you need help, radio through."

Bobby looked like he was going to try and help her up into the truck behind her, but she shook her head. She wanted to stay where she was, knelt down on the floor. She was okay, but she didn't have the willpower or the energy to get up yet. She couldn't move. She had to stay here.

He seemed dubious about leaving her, but (Y/n) clearly didn't want help right now and they were two men down with Eddie being on holiday and Evan currently off work. And if (Y/n) was sitting this call out, Bobby needed to get back out there and control the situation and help so they could be back at the station as soon as possible.

(Y/n) barely heard her dad whisper that he would be back soon and she tried to lean closer when he kissed her temple. His touch lingered for a few moments, giving away how badly he wanted to stay with her and truly make sure she was alright. But the faint smile she tried to muster told him she might just be okay for a few minutes while he got this scene under control.

All she could do was lean her shoulders back against the truck and close her eyes, but the image was still there. Those beaming headlights were aimed at her. They were shining on her, blinking at her, flashing for her attention and the light shone through her closed eyes that were illuminated into bright red lines. With the image of Evan burned into her cornias until the day she died.

The image of Evan laid out on his stomach, gloved fingers desperately clawing at the floor. Nails splitting apart beneath the gloves, fingertips wearing down and the skin rubbing off as he tried to prize himself free.

His lips, sodden with sweat and dirt and the odd speckle of blood, screaming until he was froffing at the mouth and his throat felt drier than the desert.

His eyes, shedding so manny tears he could have had his own ocean named after him. Red circles beneath his eyes, veins prominent in the whites of his eyes, cheeks glistening with little white tracks where tears had wiped through the dirt covering his face.

(Y/n) could hear those screams. She could see the blood creating a puddle beneath him. She could see people moving to lift the truck and she could hear the agony in her husband's shrieks when their team finally dragged him from the wreckage and prized him free too late for (Y/n)'s liking.

Tears began to streak down her own face before she could stop them and she found her trembling hands rattling through her inside jacket pocket, searching for her phone.

She had to make sure he was okay.

She had to call Evan.

She had to know he wasn't in danger.

To stop herself from staring at the scene ahead that was only inflating her panic and agony, (Y/n) snapped her eyes closed. She closed them so tightly pins and needles flooded her face and had her squirming from the tight pain ebbing away at her eyes. It didn't stop the tears from falling, but they were only silent tears of fading panic and old anguish she was trying to push away.

The line didn't ring for long and (Y/n) was suddenly overwhelmed. Usually when it didn't ring for more than three beeps it meant Evan's phone was switched off or he rejected the call because he was busy on a call. And if the line had rung and rung with no answer, (Y/n) wasn't sure what her panicked brain would do in that scenario.

"Hey baby, everything okay?"

Evan's voice was the calm after the storm. (Y/n) could feel more silent tears beginning to stream down her face when she listened to his lulling voice with that slight rough edge that implied he may have taken a nap with Lilah at some point tonight.

He wasn't quite used to being at home while (Y/n) was at work. It had been the other way around when (Y/n) took early maternity leave and Evan had been the one to call her while he was at work. Just so he could hear her voice or listen to how her day had been to take his mind off a rough or an oddly quiet shift.

He didn't like being the one stuck at home, not able to do his job. But now he didn't have a pot running from his toes midway up his thigh, it was easier to be at home. No one had to be here helping him hobble about the house, he didn't need (Y/n) to help him wash or help him up out of bed and down the stairs.

He didn't need Maddie coming round to babysit him and now he could walk- although with a limp for now- he could properly care for Lilah.

It crushed Evan to not be able to carry his baby girl or bathe her or take her for a walk when he had been on crutches. Seeing (Y/n) or Maddie or even Bobby come round and help with Lilah had been killing him. But now, until he was signed off for work, Evan was spending as much time as he could with his baby girl.

"Babe, you there?" There was a slight chuckle at the end of his words as if he thought (Y/n) may have called him by accident or not realised she was now on the phone to him.

"Hm."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah… just- just wanted to hear your voice." Her voice sounded steadier than she had hoped and it made her relieved. She didn't want to worry Evan unnecessarily and make him panic or think something was wrong.

Because nothing was wrong, not really. A moment of panic had now been quenched by the sound of Evan's voice. (Y/n) could carry on, she could pick herself back up and get out there and try to actually do her job and hope none of the team had noticed her lapse in concentration.

"Why, what's going on?" There was a softness to his tone and (Y/n) could just imagine him sat there smiling.

She wasn't going to worry him. There was no point when telling Evan why she had worriedly called him would only serve to upset him. And there was no way to open up that conversation and tell him she had a brief panic at the thought of his accident.

"Nothing, just missed you."

"You're sweet." He tilted his head back, sliding further down the sofa he was reclined on with both legs hanging over the other side. And he shuffled Lilah who was laid on his chest with her head just beneath his collar bone. "Who's on the phone? Is it mummy?"

He got a little babbling response, a jumbled sound that was drowsy and showed that the toddler was about to fall asleep at any moment. But it was enough to have Evan smiling as he kissed her temple and ran his hand up and down her back, holding his phone closer to his ear with the other hand.

"So, you're missing me, huh?"

(Y/n) allowed a smile to pull at her lips. She felt better already.

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

(One year ago)

Lifting her head, (Y/n) looked up at Athena through blurry eyes when they both heard a knock at the door.

She reached her hand out to give her mum's hand a tight squeeze and the calming smile on Athena's face did wonders for (Y/n)'s raging nerves. They both had the same thought in mind. They both prayed it was Evan at the front door.

Athena leaned over to peck (Y/n)'s temple before she got up from the sofa and hurried out into the hall to open the door.

Just as Athena dipped out the room, (Y/n) leaned forward with one hand gripping the arm of the sofa and her other hand clutching at her stomach. she hunched over as much as she could until her stomach was pressing into her thighs and her head was tilted down.

God, these contractions were going to be the death of her.

A quiet groan burned at the back of her throat and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes but she willed them away. She couldn't be crying yet, not when she wasn't even fully dilated or at the point of pushing yet. But she couldn't help it.

She wanted Evan. She wanted him to come home.

She was two weeks away from her due date and had gone into labour right when Evan was in the middle of a night shift with the rest of the team. (Y/n) had been extremely lucky that when she rang her mum, Athena hadn't been on shift tonight. She had come straight over and when neither of them could get hold of Evan or Bobby, Athena called the next best person.

She rang Maddie who was on shift at dispatch and they kindly asked her to get the message across to the 118 that Evan would have to end his shift early. He needed to come home and be here when (Y/n) had their baby.

When the contraction subsided, (Y/n) let out a groan and started to rub circles along her stomach in the vain hope that it would take her mind off the budding pains. And the ache in her heart from not having Evan here. He promised to be here. He had been subtly whispering to her bump, telling the baby to make an appearance when Evan was home and that they had to wait patiently for him.

(Y/n) had playfully told Evan off two weeks ago when he had been talking to the baby and asked them to arrive promptly last week so Evan wouldn't have to go to dinner with his parents for his dad's birthday. It didn't happen. They all suffered through dinner together anyway. If (Y/n) went into labour then, at least Evan would have been by her side rather than on shift like he was now.

"Is- is that him?" (Y/n) tried to look over her shoulder but she couldn't see Athena in the hall from where she was sat in the living room.

But she couldn't hear voices either. Athena was speaking in hushed tones with whoever was at the door. That must mean it wasn't Evan, if it was he would have burst through the doors and found (Y/n) immediately.

With pursed lips set into a deep frown, (Y/n) reached across for the tv remote and promptly changed the channel. The stupid sitcom that had been on in the background was steadily getting on (Y/n)'s nerves. The gag lines were silly, the jokes weren't funny and the audience laughing was irritating her to no end.

She flicked through three channels, about to look through a few more until a headline on the late night news caught her attention.

LAFD Bombing.

Her head tilted to one side and her eyes narrowed as she watched the camera zoom in, clearly live recording from a helicopter hovering at the scene.

Someone had tried to blow up a fire truck. They were sectioning off the street while the fire brigade talked to the bomber who was actually on the scene. a few people had been hurt in the blast. Someone was trapped. One of the firemen was still stuck in the fire truck that had exploded on-route.

"We can't tell her-"

Maddie lost her train of thought and whatever she was about to say when a horrifying, gut-wrenching scream shook the walls of the house. She clutched the doorframe, her eyes locking with Athena as the pair of them bolted from the hall and into the living room.

It was too late.

More tears streamed down Maddie's face, despite the fact that she had been crying for over twenty minutes now since the news reel first started and showed her little brother in peril.

She had come straight over to help Athena take (Y/n) to hospital and be here with her while Evan couldn't. She had tried to explain what had happened, she didn't want (Y/n) to know. She didn't want her sister in law to panic or be in distress, not when she was already overwhelmed and in labour. But it seemed too late now.

Both of them scurried into the living room to find (Y/n) down on her knees in front of the coffee table. One hand gripping the table while the other clutched the tv remote close to her chest. She turned the volume up until all of them were wincing at the abrupt noises of the helicopter and the news reporters.

She had seen. (Y/n) had seen her husband, lying there on the floor with the entire fire truck crushing down on his leg.

No wonder he wasn't here already. He wasn't going to be here. Evan wasn't coming home, he was stuck. He was pinned down to the road like a fly trapped in a spider's web. Her husband was being crushed while she was splitting apart, about to have their first baby without him. There was no way Evan was going to be here to hold her hand or be by her side.

Did he even know she had gone into labour? Had he been told before this accident happened or was he still oblivious? What did it matter? Labour seemed insignificant compared to the horror Evan was going through.

Why were they broadcasting his anguish to the world?

"(Y/n)-"

"Oh honey."

A gurgling sob left (Y/n)'s lips as she pushed forward until her forehead was pressing down on the edge of the coffee table harsh enough that it was going to leave a mark soon.

When she felt Athena and Maddie reaching out for her, she roughly shook them off, but it wasn't like she could move very far. Not when her aching knees were now glued to the carpet and her stomach was tightening with every passing second.

"He- he's hurt!" The urgency in (Y/n)'s voice took Athena by surprise and only made fresh tears pour down Maddie's face.

This is what she had been afraid of. She had been worried about (Y/n) finding out and sending herself into a state of distress which wouldn't do her or the baby any good. She had hoped to keep (Y/n) ignorant and try to tell her that Evan had been caught up in a situation at work. Maybe tell her there was a bomber out there and the team were trying to diffuse the situation. She thought it would be easier to tell (Y/n) once she'd had the baby or once Evan was taken to hospital, whatever happened first.

"They're going to look after him, he'll be okay." Maddie looped her arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders and gently reeled her sister in law into her chest. She pecked the top of (Y/n)'s head and tried to rub her hand up and down her back, but she could see she wasn't helping very much.

Sobs continued to wrack (Y/n)'s body that was now trembling and when she reeled up, she looked back at the tv which was now zooming in on her husband's peril.

Showing Evan in all his anguish and agony, bright red in the face, spit dribbling down his chin as he screamed. Hands clawing at the road to try and drag himself free to no avail.

"Why isn't someone helping him?!" The words tore past (Y/n)'s lips with a violent scream before she launched the remote in her hand far across the room. Watching with anger and disgust as the remote hit the wall, rebounded into a picture frame and knocked it to the floor.

The shattering glass somehow made (Y/n) feel a little better. Something else other than her and Evan was shattering.

Why wasn't there someone knelt down beside her husband, telling him everything was going to be okay? Why wasn't someone holding his hand? Why was no one trying to move the truck and free her husband? How could they just stand back and leave him there like that, allowing the camera to get a closer view than the rest of them? That wasn't fair. They couldn't leave him in agony like that.

"We have t-to help him. I need to be there- be there with him." Each word came out with a hitched breath until (Y/n) was barely breathing and reduced to panting and gasping instead.

She moved her hands to the coffee table and tried her best to push up from where she was knelt on the floor. But both her legs were shaking and the moment she was on her feet, a cry errupted from her lips and her hands cupped her stomach that was twisting in agony.

She felt Athena rush to grab her arm and steady her and she allowed herself to lean into her mum's touch, letting Athena hold up some of her weight.

"Honey, we need to go to the hospital, these contractions are getting closer." Athena shakily brushed her free hand along (Y/n)'s cheek and leaned over to kiss her temple. (Y/n) was like another daughter to her. Since the moment she married Bobby, she had taken (Y/n) in as her own like Bobby had grown close to May and Harry.

She hated to see (Y/n) in distress like this much the same as she couldn't look at the tv and see Evan be trapped beneath that truck.

"No. No, I w-" She broke off with another cry as Maddie reached out for her waist to stop her from going back down on her knees. "Evan! He needs us."

Maddie couldn't stop her lower lip from wobbling and she sucked in a deep breath, doing her best to stop from bursting into another fit of tears. How could any of this be happening? How could her little brother be stuck in peril like that? How could (Y/n) be in labour at the exact same moment? How could they be separated in a moment where they should both be together? When they had both been planning to do this as one since the moment they found out about this baby.

"Buck has the team with him to look after him, and he wouldn't stand for you having his baby in the middle of the street, now would he?" The firm tone to Athena's voice made (Y/n) shiver and feel like she was a child being told the rules of the game.

Her head fell onto Athena's shoulder and a low whine passed her lips as she began to cry.

"Your dad is there with him, I'll call him when we're at the hospital to find out what's happening. And as soon as Buck is at the hospital with us, we can sort everything out. But we need to get you to the hospital to look after you and this baby."

"Buck will be taken to the hospital soon, better to be there waiting for him than stuck in traffic trying to reach him, hm?" Maddie's words made sense and seemed to calm down one of (Y/n)'s many erratic nerves.

The roads would be gridlocked. They had to get going now and it was lucky that Athena had sirens in her car so she could override the traffic that would undoubtedly be on the streets.

Rather than trying to get to Evan, by which time he could be transported to the hospital, they may as well get there first and wait for him. (Y/n) could be seen by the midwife, her and the baby would be safe and as soon as Evan was there, they would find out what was happening and get news of if he was alright or not.

They would wait for him at the hospital. And (Y/n) would try and hold on as long as she could. She didn't want this baby on her own, she wanted to know Evan was okay.

She wanted to see him before she gave birth.

***

"Why don't we sit down-"

"No."

Both (Y/n)'s hands planted down on the bed in front of her. Her lower back arched out and she leaned forward until her legs were ready to cave in beneath her and give way. Her knees were trembling. Her arms were rattling against the bedframe. She wanted to be sick.

She had shed so many tears she could have a river named after her. Both eyes were puffy and begging for rest, for a moment to sleep or fall closed and recover and to stop crying, but (Y/n) didn't know how. She didn't know how to stop crying when she could see her husband in dire distress, but she couldn't do anything to help him.

She didn't want to sit down, (Y/n) didn't want to be here in the first place. She changed her mind as soon as they arrived at the hospital. She wanted to turn round and go find Evan, she wanted to be there with him, to talk to him and tell him that she was here. She was nearby and she wanted him to know she wanted to help but she just didn't know how.

Another cry tumbled past her lips as her hands fisted in the bedsheets. She wasn't sure whether it was Maddie or Athena who was reaching out for her, but she didn't care. Their gentle touches and vain attempts to get her to move from her crouched position weren't working.

When the pain finally wore off, (Y/n) lifted her head and looked up at the tv in the corner of the room.

The news reel was playing. (Y/n) had been glued to watching any screen she could, looking at any monitor that was recording the live event and giving her a view of her husband in turmoil.

People had finally started to move to try and help him. Evan was no longer sprawled out on the floor on his own, in mass agony, with no way of getting himself free. The rest of the team had managed to pull themselves together and were trying to move the truck. As if any of them could lift that ten ton of steel and and equipment and oversized engine.

"How are we doing in here?" The same midwife who had showed them in peeked her head round the door. She had been doing regular checks and kept trying to insist (Y/n) try to sit and calm down because this was doing her blood pressure and the baby's heartbeat no favours. But (Y/n) wasn't in any fit state to listen.

(Y/n) didn't bother answering, she kept her gaze intently focused on the tv. She couldn't believe Evan hadn't passed out by now and she couldn't believe no one had gotten him free yet.

If they'd of gotten him out by now he could have been in the hospital. (Y/n) could have been with him, she could of held his hand and promised him everything was going to be okay.

She wished there was a way to pause her body and stop labour until Evan was in a fit state to be here, but that wasn't possible.

When another pain hit, (Y/n) couldn't stop her knees from giving out on her and she crumpled down into a squatting position. She thrust more weight onto her arms, quivering through the pain as Maddie tried to stop her from kneeling on the floor and Athena's hands held onto her waist to try and coil her up.

"If you're pushing, we really need to get you on the bed." There was a sense of urgency in the midwife's voice and she got as close as she could considering Maddie and Athena were crowding her like bodyguards.

(Y/n) didn't have the willpower to argue with them anymore.

Her hands clawed at the bed once the pain wore off and left her cramping and aching and splitting apart in dull infrequent waves. It didn't feel good to be sitting down like it did to be crouching or pacing around the room. Pacing kept her mind busy and gave her something to do.

And (Y/n) was fearful that as soon as she sat down, she would progress further and have the baby without Evan, although that seemed inevitable now.

"I think you're ready, let's get settled to push, shall we?" The sympathy in the midwife's voice did nothing to settle the anguish in (Y/n)'s heart.

Her head began to shake and her lower lip wobbled as a horrid sob wracked her chest. This wasn't how things were supposed to play out. She was supposed to be safe at home with Evan when she went into labour. He was supposed to time the contractions and take her to hospital and hold her hand and help her through this.

He was supposed to be here making jokes and kissing her hand and telling her all the random facts about labour and kids that he had learned to go along with all the pregnancy facts he had been telling her the last few months.

Evan wasn't supposed to be stuck with their entire damn fire truck crumpling down on his leg and people desperately trying to set him free.

"I c- I can't have this baby yet-" Her head began to shake and she tugged on Athena's hand as if her mum could somehow do something to rectify this situation.

"Honey, you don't have much of a choice."

Maddie sat down on the left side of the bed and let (Y/n) deadlock their hands together. She reached out with her free hand and gently ran her fingers through (Y/n)'s damp, matted hair, brushing the strands away from her face as she herself was in tears once again.

She hadn't expected to be here when (Y/n) gave birth, she had expected to have the most overjoyed, hyper phone call from her little brother telling her when (Y/n) went into labour. And then another call to ask her to come down to the hospital once her niece or nephew was born.

But when she came along to bring (Y/n) down here, (Y/n) hadn't let go of her hand and Maddie took that as a silent hint that (Y/n) didn't want her to go. And she didn't want to go either. Maddie didn't want to go home and wait anxiously in vain for news of both (Y/n) and Evan.

She had to be here, whether that was in the room right now giving (Y/n) support or just sitting in the hallway waiting for news on either her or Evan. Being in here made Maddie feel useful and it was a distraction.

"You can push on the next contraction."

(Y/n) didn't reply, but she did as she was told and started to push. Her knees coiled up, she pulled both Athena and Maddie's hands towards her chest and she leaned forward as much as she could to see if it would help.

But she stopped, every part of her body going rigid and becoming tense as her head snapped up to the tv.

A small 'oh' left her lips before a round of "Evan!" croaked into the air causing the other girls to look up at the tv.

Dozens upon dozens of passers by in the street were pushing the fire truck. Everyone was leaning against it, forcing all of their weight onto the structure to try and get Evan free.

(Y/n) ignored the next contraction, droning out the midwife's nervous instructions and she tried not to push as she put all of her focus on the tv. Silent sobs wracked her lips and had her trembling back and forth as she watched Hen and Eddie reach out for Evan to try and pull him free, while every other civilian there pushed on the truck.

What hurt (Y/n) the most was seeing Evan scrape his hand against the road. He was trying to help. He had hundreds of pounds of metal crushing down on his leg, pinning him to the road, he was in more agony than he ever had been in his life. And there he was, trying to help get himself free, trying to drag himself along the road to make it easier on everyone else.

The news reporter was close enough that Evan's horrid scream of terror managed to get broadcast on the tv and (Y/n)'s only response was to cry his name through wet lips as another contraction hit and she started to push.

"He- he's free."

"They've got him, they've got him honey."

"He'll be okay now." Maddie leaned forward when (Y/n) dropped her head onto her sister's shoulder and Maddie kissed the top of her head, weaving her other arm around (Y/n)'s waist.

(Y/n) coiled her legs up tighter until her knees were pressing into her stomach and she pushed. Unable to stop herself from muttering Evan's name on a loop as if it was the only thing she could understand. She was almost there, she was about to have her baby in her arms, and the one person she wanted here with her was nowhere to be seen.

The news reel changed to a wider angle of the whole scene and the reporter switched back to someone in the studio. Evan was free, they weren't going to record the team getting him into an ambulance and racing him away from the scene. But he was free. He was free from the constraints of the fire truck and now he would be here within ten minutes, all being well.

But he was still going to miss the birth.

***

"We're here! Buck, we're here." Reaching down, Bobby gripped Evan's arm and did his best to try and smile, but he couldn't manage it. Not when he could see the damage done to his son in law's leg.

He could see the dramatic sight where skin and muscle had been split apart and the bone was visible. He could see breaks in the bone and splinters of bone pushing out at odd angles. He could see through the gauze that was moulding into Evan's wound from soaking up all the blood that the strap around his thigh couldn't cut off.

It didn't look good.

Both Eddie and Hen had been doing their best to make him comfortable on the ride down here, but it was hard. They couldn't give him any morphine, not when he was going to need X-rays and scans and an emergency operation. Morphine and anaesthetic didn't always mix well and Evan had a bad track history with medications causing severe reactions.

All they could give him was the gas and air tube to breathe through and although it had done nothing to take the edge off, Evan had been breathing it in since the moment they got him in the ambulance.

"Let's get you inside, you're gonna be just fine." Hen's voice was soothing, but Evan couldn't believe her words.

He didn't feel fine.

He didn't feel as if he was going to be fine or make a swift recovery from this.

He felt like he was going to be put under anaesthetic and wake up with one leg. He could feel each piece of tattered skin desperately trying to cling to his leg. He could feel his leg pulsing and aching from where the blood supply had been cut off mid-way down his thigh. Evan felt like his body was on fire, his leg was disconnected and each breath was becoming harder to take.

When Eddie reached across to try and take the gas and air tube from his grip, a deep growl emmited from Evan's lips and he clenched his hand tight around the tube.

He pulled the strange looking mask back to his lips and inhaled three fast, choked breaths. The tubes were always switched and cleaned out after every use, but Evan had a feeling they would have to bin this one. He had chomped down so hard on the tube that he had left puncture indents in the plastic.

"No! It f-fucking kills-"

"Buck, you can have more pain relief once you're inside, I swear. Mate please, please we have to move you now." Eddie felt horrible when he had to prize Evan's fingers from the gas and air and as soon as he let go, they clipped off the breaks and moved the stretcher.

Bobby leaned down and took Evan's hand once they all climbed down and Chimney rushed from the driver's seat. He held Evan's hand high to his chest as Evan started to thrash around on the gurney.

His chest stuttered up and down and repeatedly pushed back to the point the gurney was shaking and about to unlock and lower down. His free hand curled into a fist and slammed into the metal frame harsh enough to split some of the skin around his knuckles.

He was in agony. He needed it to stop.

"(Y/n). Have- have you- fuck. (Y/n)." Evan couldn't get his thoughts in order, the only thing in his head and the one word that could properly be muttered from his lips was his wife's name.

They had been on their way back to the station when the bomb hit. They had been going back specifically because Maddie came through the radio and said (Y/n) had gone into labour. That was the call Evan had been waiting for and dreading at the same time. He had been anxious about when (Y/n) would go into labour and if it would happen while he was at work.

He had been ecstatic. He had been bouncing in his seat, riding shotgun in the truck for the first time in ages and he and Bobby had been debating whether it would be a boy or a girl.

Now, Evan had no idea what was happening. He didn't know who was with (Y/n) or if she was alone right now. He didn't know if she was still home or if someone had taken her to the maternity ward. He didn't know if she was in agony, if anything had gone wrong, if she was having complications or sailing through labour without him.

Bobby tightened his hand around Evan's and leaned down so he could talk to him better because he knew Evan was now having a hard time concentrating and taking things in. Who wouldn't in his state?

"Athena and Maddie brought her to the hospital, once you're inside I'll go find them. She'll be okay."

While waiting for people to help get Evan free, Bobby had answered the third phone call from his wife. All he knew so far was they had brought (Y/n) in and labour was in full swing, they were just waiting for her to dilate. But his daughter was here and she was safe, that was all Bobby needed to know for now while he focused on looking after his son in law.

"I wa- I want-" Evan broke off into an animalistic howl when the gurney jolted over the threshold into the emergency room and the shock sent his leg jerking. Shockwaves rattled up and down his spine and both legs shook as if he had been electrocuted.

He lifted his head and shoulders, doing his best to sit up although he wasn't sure what he was doing, he just wanted to move.

He wanted the pain to stop.

Tears flushed down his face and a broken sob left his lips when he locked onto a familiar frame stood anxiously by the reception desk.

He could see his big sister stood with a bright red face, puffy eyes and tears streaked down her features. She had both hands interlocked in front of her in that panicked manner where she would scratch her nails along the back of her hands until they were rubbed raw. The moment she looked their way, it was as if a light had come and gone in her eyes all at once.

She ran across the floor and grabbed Evan's outstretched hand, pulling it up so she could kiss the back of his hand. Her fingers trailed up and down his arm and her lips wobbled, unable to hold back a sob when she looked at her baby brother who had been more of a son to her at times.

"Oh, oh Buck."

Evan let out another sob while the team paused the gurney in the hallway and Eddie moved to flag someone down. This was a dire emergency, they needed a doctor here now and they needed Evan taken to theatre before he lost his leg.

"W-where's (Y/n)?" Evan had spent the last few hours wondering what was happening with his wife, if she was okay, if he could be taken to her at some point.

He had tried arguing with Bobby on the journey down here, asking if he could see (Y/n) before he went for whatever surgery he was going to need. Of course Bobby said no, that wasn't going to be an option. Evan couldn't delay any form of treatment, not for a minute or an hour. He had to be taken straight to theatre.

"She's on the maternity ward."

"Is she-"

"She's fine… oh Buck, you've got a beautiful little girl." Maddie reached her hand out to brush her finger down his bloodied cheek as a broken smile formed on her lips.

But her smile faded into an open-mouthed, hollow frown when Evan's entire face fell. His jaw loosened and slacked like it had become disconnected, his eyes glossed over and his nose crinkled making him look like a snarling dog.

"I m- I missed it? I- oh God- Bobby-" The most horrid scream any of them ever heard erupted from Evan's lips and shook the walls.

He ripped his hand free from Maddie's hold, slammed his fist down into the frame of the gurney and writhed until he almost toppled off the gurney. He fought and thrashed against all the hands that pinned him down and ignored their panicked screams for a doctor.

He missed it.

He missed his daughter's birth. He hadn't been there. He promised (Y/n) he would be with her from the moment she went into labour to the moment their precious baby would be in their arms. He said he would do anything he could to be there and that he wouldn't let her down, and now, he had broken those promises.

He couldn't see (Y/n), he couldn't hold his daughter. He couldn't cut the cord or hold her for the first time the moment she was born. He wasn't going to see her on her birthday, if he was going for an operation he wouldn't be conscious or lucid enough to see her for another day, possibly two.

A chorus of exploding emotions erupted to life in his chest and wailed past his lips but it didn't feel like anyone was listening to him. And Evan was too far gone into his despair to hear anyone try to comfort him. He didn't want comfort. He wanted a time machine. Evan wanted the chance to go back and make sure this didn't happen.

He wanted to rewind time and sit in the back of the truck with the rest of the team so he could scramble out without being trapped. He wanted to get out of that truck unscathed and rush down to the hospital and hold his wife's hand as she gave birth to their daughter.

This wasn't fair.

Tortured screams left Evan's lips and (Y/n)'s name spat past his lips on repeat as the gurney began to move and hands continued to pin him down.

But the pain in his leg was nothing compared to the agony overwhelming his heart.

#imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #pregnant! reader #bobby nash #eddie diaz

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