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amywritesthings · 6 months

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SILVER UNDERGROUND / deleted scene 01.

levi's pov #1. :: a deleted scene from chapter one. this is an alternate pov of levi's first conversation with james in the trost hospital.

happy silver underground eve! i thought i could give you all a little treat for the very first edition of additional SU content. this is a special levi-only drabble covering his pov when james first wakes up. i wrote it to better understand his own head while writing james' pov, but it wasn't necessary for the final draft. apologies for the pain, my dears. xo this is unedited. 1.8k words / angst, language, mentions of self hatred. :: please remember: this is additional content. nothing in the deleted drabbles are tied to the main content/overall final storyline.

He doesn’t bother knocking.

Levi can’t, not when you’ve been awake for twenty minutes. Twenty whole minutes where he wasn’t there. Twenty fucking minutes where you were alone, lying in a hospital cot, confused and out of sorts and more than likely asking for him.

He was supposed to be there.

He just didn’t think today would be the day it finally happened.

As he rushes through the hallways of the Trost District hospital, he tries to keep his face neutral. You’re going to need one hell of a recovery period, so he’s going to need to be strong — to hold true to his twilight promises he made six months ago, come what may.

According to Hange, you’d already been gone for several minutes by that time. That didn’t stop him from talking to you through the entire surgery prep process like you could hear him anyway. They’re cutting your shirt now. They’re setting up the blood bag. I’ll sit here all damn day hooked up to it if you need more.

(For someone notorious for silence, he sure had a lot of promises ready on his tongue.)

The door of the medical wing swings wide, and he could fall to his knees then and there: you’re sitting. For fuck’s sake, you’re actually sitting.

You look sickly, disoriented, but your eyes dart across the room towards the sudden intrusion. Your chest rises and falls in your gown. Your fingers are moving just fine.

He can’t say anything — he’s a goddamn coward waiting for the other shoe to drop in this miraculous awakening.

“Captain Levi!”

Doctor Rini’s voice calls to him, but the captain notices immediately that you don’t turn to the doctor. No. Your eyes never leave him, and it’s…

Blank.

Maybe you’re just exhausted.

Maybe you’re not quite here in the present yet.

“Doctor,” he replies, clipped to avoid emotion.

“I sent Nurse Phillipa to find you,” Doctor Rini exhales with anxiety.

“I was found.” Levi locks onto sarcasm as a defense mechanism. If it wasn’t for the good doctor, he’d already have been at the foot of your bedside. Begging for forgiveness is hardly enough. I’m sorry. “So?” I’m so sorry. “Tired of sleeping yet, or are we looking at six more months of winter?”

If you’re James, then you’ll tell him that you’d take another six months to avoid him.

If you’re still you, then you’ll tease that his left hand is trembling.

But you stare.

That’s it — that’s all you do.

Stare, and stare, and stare.

“You only look like total shit,” he continues with a snort, “so I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Captain—”

“Apologies for Levi’s intrusion, Doctor Rini.” Your attention turns when Erwin enters the room. Levi almost wants to demand you keep your eyes on him — look at me, James — but the commander speaks for the both of you. “Nurse Phillipa was able to locate me in my office. I had to retrieve Captain Levi personally. Is it alright if we come in, or is she not yet lucid?”

Of course she’s fucking lucid. She’s right here.

Levi takes a few steps forward, tightening his trembling hand into a fist to keep it concealed.

“She is… lucid, Commander.” The doctor stops there. There’s a but coming — he can feel it.

Levi doesn’t like this, not one fucking bit.

“But?” he snaps, glaring the doctor’s way for the first time since he burst into the room.

The doctor sighs with sadness then gestures towards the fallen lieutenant.

“Lieutenant, state your name.”

What?

Levi can’t help how fast his attention whips towards you. His stomach drops to the floor, digging itself into the dirt. You look… scared?

You shouldn’t be scared. He’s here. He promised he’d be here.

“...you originally stated she suffered a major concussion,” Erwin says.

“Yes, I did,” the doctor agrees, “and I also stated on the report that the probability of temporary to permanent post-traumatic memory damage was high.”

You have to be fucking joking.

Erwin states it in plain terms: “In other words, sustained amnesia.”

The fist at his side painfully tightens, his trimmed nails pushing into calloused skin. He sets his jaw, forcing himself to breathe through his nose.

“It never said anything about permanent,” Levi growls, pushing forward away from the doctor, away from the commander, to talk to you himself. Erwin’s fingertips touch his shoulder as if to dissuade him, but there’s nothing — absolutely nothing — that will keep him from this.

There’s no way it’s sustained.

Confusion in the beginning, maybe, but you just needed to talk a little. He’d show them both.

The visitor’s chair screeches against the floor until it hits the edge of your bed. You’re still doe-eyed and lost, lips parted like you’re wanting to speak — he can help. You two practically grew up with the same half-baked brain cell.

“Where are we?” Levi asks, leaning forward in his seat. He stares up at you with a hidden layer of affection, willing for the James he knows — the James he’s always known — to see.

I’m here. Look at me, James, I promised I’d be here.

“Levi,” Erwin warns. He doesn’t get it.

Levi nods his chin, albeit barely. “Answer the question.”

You pause, fidgeting in that way when you’re nervous. “I… don’t know.”

“You do know,” he urges.

“I don’t.”

“Where — are — we?”

“Stohess District?” you guess. It’s not that far off. Maybe he’s not being forceful enough.

“Try again, dumbass.”

Wrong idea — your eyes widen like you’d never been more insulted in your life. He’s jokingly called you worse. “Excuse me?”

“Levi.” Erwin again.

Levi refuses. “What’s this building called?”

“I said I don’t know,” you plead, and your voice sounds so small that it breaks his heart.

“Do you know what titans are?”

“Of course I know what the fuck titans are.”

His heart flutters at your swear. You’re not entirely lost. “Good. And do you know what the Survey Corps is?”

“Yes, why does this matter?”

“Do you know where you’re from?” If he wasn’t in control, then he’d reach out to your hand. Cup your cheek. Swear on heaven and Earth that you know this one — you just need a little more time. You need to try a little harder.

Yet your shoulders slack. “I don’t.”

Levi’s face drops, his voice taking a sharper edge by accident. “You do. You just aren’t trying hard enough.”

Maybe insults will work.

Maybe spilling his guts of all of his darkest secrets will help.

He’s a man falling through space and time itself, willing the past not to condemn him right now. He’s sinned a great deal in his life, but that doesn’t mean you should suffer for it, too.

Because you know. You know, you know, you know—

“I am trying, asshole,” you hiss, and his face lights up for just a moment.

There you are. There’s that fire. Fight — fight for this, fight with me, just fight.

“Levi,” Erwin interrupts, “that’s enough.”

Maybe it is enough.

Maybe you can rest and try tomorrow, to let you sit in this mental darkness for a little more time, but he’s waited six long months for this.

“So that’s it, then, huh?”

Levi dares to poke at the wound just one more time. You always worked best when adrenaline courses through your veins. That’s why you two were so perfect.

“You’re going to lay down and happily take being a nameless has-been after being stuck in a coma for months?”

But it was the wrong wound.

He regrets his strategy as soon as you look horrified, and he doesn’t have time to quell your fears. Your trust turns to Erwin for the truth. “It’s been months?!”

The fire dies. You’re terrified in this bed, one hiccup away from a panic attack, and Levi is powerless to fight it for you. Erwin takes over and the captain is glad for it — he’s a stone’s throw away from begging.

Come back to me. It was too much to ask of you, but he was selfish enough to ask on your near death bed anyway. Come back to me, James, or I’ll fucking drag you back myself.

But you’re not you.

You’re not you, and he’s the reason for it.

The captain chooses silence as he watches your face, memorizing the slopes of your face. His heart clenches with the hard decision in front of him: Erwin has a clearer head for this. He’s so blinded by his guilt that he’s already hurt you in the first hour of your revival.

Maybe this is his punishment for dragging you into all of this in the first place.

From the Underground City to Hell on Earth, he is the reckoning of your demise.

I think I’d remember the name of this piece of shit — in this case, you mean him.

You’re right. He is a piece of shit.

He is a danger to you.

You are in the middle of talking to Erwin when he abruptly stands from his chair, the wooden legs scraping sickeningly across the floor. Everything is underwater. He feels like his body is shutting down, so he does what he has to:

He turns to leave.

Facing the entrance, he drops his chin to his chest with a defeatist attitude. “This is a waste of time,” he urges the commander, relenting just one moment where he admits he’s fucked this up.

He’s not the right person for this, even if he’s always been your person.

He’s not the right guide to help you, even if all he’s ever done is hold your hand.

Maybe this is fate.

Maybe this is the second chance he’s always wanted for you — one without the Scouts, without running from the law, without looking over your shoulder.

Maybe Erwin will give you an honorable discharge so you can spend your days in the warmth of the sun.

He could live with that, even if he never sees you again.

“You’re always so quick to walk the fuck away.”

Suddenly his boot scuffs the floor.

His eyes shoot wide, staring at the floor ahead. There’s a splintered floor panel at the frame of the door he’s never noticed in the hundreds of times he’s come here.

For a moment he’s fooled. This could all be an elaborate trick to punish him for the shit he’s done in his life.

(Maybe you do remember, deep down somewhere he cannot follow yet.)

But you were right back then and you were right now: he is quick to walk away—

—if it means that he can't hurt you from this distance.

“I… didn’t mean to say that,” you correct quietly, and his face scrunches to battle the overwhelming bout of grief that washes over him. “I don’t know why I said that, sir. Forgive me.”

Sir.

Not Captain.

Not Ackerman.

Not Levi.

Before he can cause anymore damage, he walks out the door.

Erwin can take it from here.

#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #amys deleted scenes.#fic: silver underground #levi ackerman x reader

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shion-yu · 2 months

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A Safe Place (part 4/4) [day 24]

Cliff’s past experiences in hospitals have all been bad. For @monthofsick day 24: Panic and @badthingshappenbingo Paralyzed by Fear. 3,698 words, original work, TWs emeto (mild x1), hospital/surgical content, child abuse/trauma. If you'd like to skip the first half which is a childhood flashback, control-find the word “eighteen”.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - This is the final part! Thanks for sticking with me guys.

Cliff’s fear of hospitals first began when he was three years old. He’d been inside the hospital several times because his dad worked there, but he hadn’t really processed it as anything significant until one day when he went there with his mother, who’d been tasked with watching him because the nanny was off. Cliff had been doing everything “wrong” that day, and Hana Barrows had reached her limit after a spilled glass of orange juice. She dragged him by the wrist to the car and drove to the hospital, swearing loudly all the way there. Cliff was silent because even back then he knew that saying anything would just make things worse.

Hana brought Cliff up to Dr. Claude Barrows’ office without warning, ignoring the secretary shouting after her as she passed without signing in. She yanked Claude’s door open without knocking and found him hunched over a pile of paperwork.

“What in the - Hana! What on earth are you doing here?! Why is Cliff here?”

“I’m not a babysitter!” She shouted as she shoved Cliff towards his father, who would have fallen on his face had Claude not caught him. “You promised me I’d never have to babysit!”

“Keep your voice down,” Claude hissed. He sat Cliff on the chair he’d been sitting on and turned to his irate wife. “It’s one day in his entire life Hana, one goddamn day.”

Hana let out an angry groan of frustration and slapped her hands on Claude’s chest, grabbing the lapels of his lab coat and pulling him forward. “I never wanted this! I’m not doing it!”

They squabbled for another few minutes, young Cliff staring at his velcro-up shoes and distracting himself trying to remember how the last nanny had taught him how to tie laces. He’d forgotten how after his mom fired her, because Cliff had been too attached to her.

“You can’t leave him here Hana, I’m working,” Claude said finally, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Well figure it out, because I’m not taking him home with me,” Hana snapped back. With that she stalked out of the office, not stopping despite Claude shouting after her. He followed her out, and Cliff was left alone in his dad’s office, on his big spinny office chair, with no idea what he was supposed to do now. He was old enough to know that his parents didn’t like him, although he didn’t understand why. He didn’t talk much but they still said he was too noisy. His big sister Moira was nice to him, but that was when she was around. Usually she was too busy with her high school friends and sports to be home much.

Cliff tried to climb down from the chair, but it was really tall and he was afraid of falling. Still, he eased his lower half down, stretching his short legs to try and feel for the floor. He felt it all at once when he fell, smacking his forehead on the hard floor. He bit his lip, trying not to cry. His parents hated when he cried. Still, he couldn’t help it as a few little tears rolled down his chubby cheeks.

“Did you fall, honey?”

Cliff looked up to find a young woman kneeling in front of him. He nodded, wiping his face with tiny fists. “Aw, poor thing,” she said.

“He’s my son. Do you like kids?” Dr. Barrows was back, standing in the doorway - without Cliff’s mom.

“Yeah, totally,” the girl said. “Sorry Dr. Barrows, it’s just I heard a kid crying and the door was open so-”

“It’s fine,” Cliff’s father responded. “Actually, I need you to watch him for the rest of the day.”

“M-me? But, um, I’m a medical student, I don’t think...”

“Part of being a doctor is doing what your attending orders, and I’m telling you to babysit my kid until my shift ends at seven,” Dr. Barrows said sharply. “Is that a problem?”

“No - I mean, sort of, my clinical ends at four, and-”

“Great. I don’t care what you do with him, just keep him out of the way. I’ll pay you for your time.” Dr. Barrows ignored any further protest from the student and shoved two hundred-dollar bills in her hand before leaving.

The student shook her head in disbelief. “Alright, Cliff is it?” She asked. Cliff nodded, clutching the hem of his shirt nervously. “Right. Well, Cliff, I guess it’s you and me until seven...”

The student was nice, all things considered, but she clearly had no interest in babysitting. She had long legs and walked so quickly that Cliff had to run to keep up. A lot of times she’d turn a corner before he did and he thought he’d lost her, but she always found him again. They ate lunch in the cafeteria and she let him draw with a pen and a piece of printer paper while she did work. Cliff honestly didn’t understand what was going on, but he went with it because he was taught not to complain and didn't want to be left behind.

It was around 5pm when the student said, “You’d rather be with your dad, right? He has a pretty cool facial reconstruction starting now. Let’s go watch.” She led Cliff to the gallery, a large room with chairs above the surgical theater with a glass window for an audience. Cliff’s dad was scrubbed in, hyper focused and didn’t notice the spectators. “The surgery will last a few hours,” the student told Cliff. “I’m going home, so just stay here and don’t move until your dad comes and gets you.”

Cliff looked at her, confused. She was going to leave him here by himself? “It’s fine,” she said. “Your dad’s right down there. Just stay where you are and whatever you do, don’t move from this room, got it?” Cliff had no other choice but to nod obediently. Then he was alone.

At first, Cliff was excited to see what his dad did for work. A large woman was lying on the table - sleeping, Cliff thought - and everybody was dressed in funny clothes. His dad was wearing a long mint gown, goggles and a puffy scrub cap, which made him laugh. That laughter died in his throat when he saw his father take a long, silver knife and cut into the sleeping woman’s face.

Cliff screamed, but nobody was there to hear him. He started to panic and it felt like there was no air in the room. There was blood and the sound of a drill. Cliff began to cry, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horrible scene. His father seemed to be tearing this lady’s face apart, and he did so for two hours before pulling the skin back up and sewing it all back together.

“Wonderful,” his father said in a confident tone. “Good work gentlemen.” Someone was helping him take off his bloody robes. At this moment, he finally looked up at what should have been an empty gallery, but instead he saw his traumatized three year old son. “What the hell? Is that my son?” Cliff heard him say loudly. Cliff was terrified. What if his father got mad and did the same thing to him? He hid under a chair in the corner of the gallery until his father flew into the room and dragged him out.

“I’m sorry, I stayed like she told me to, I’m sorry,” Cliff sobbed. He was so scared, pushing his father’s face away. He kept thinking of how bloody his dad’s hands had been. “Don’t hit me!”

“Cliff, shut up, you’re embarrassing me,” Claude said angrily. “It’s not your fault though, that stupid medical student - her career is over,” he growled. “Come on. Let’s go home.” He picked Cliff up and carried his crying child out of the hospital, and together they went home. They never talked about what Cliff had seen, but for years he had nightmares about it. He was scared of what his father was capable of, and every time Claude yelled at him or hit him, Cliff wondered if it would go further - if he’d end up on that table being cut up next if he didn’t behave.

By the time Cliff reached middle school, he understood that his father’s job was to be a surgeon and that he actually helped people, even if it was scary - and horrible - to see in person. But when he had his stomach ulcer and had to be hospitalized for a few days, his fear of hospitals was renewed and solidified. His parents were furious at him. Even with a fever and in so much pain, his father yelled at him every step of the way. Every time Cliff cried, or threw up, or panicked because he was afraid of needles, it was made ten times worse by his parents’ obsession with Cliff not spoiling their image of what a perfect son should be like. The pressure they put on him while he was in the hospital just made him sicker. It was a terrible experience, and Cliff vowed never to let himself get sick enough to end up in a hospital again.

Unfortunately, these sorts of decisions are not truly one’s own. Now Cliff was in the hospital with pneumonia, and although he was eighteen and told himself he was an adult who knew better, he was still scared. It was a different hospital, but everything smelled the same. The nurses acted the same - nice, but brisk. He felt the same helpless feeling of being surrounded by people who didn’t understand him, and most of all he was terrified of his father finding out he was here. He was sure he’d be furious if he discovered Cliff had ended up here after disrespecting his mother by leaving home. He thought about ripping the IV tubing out of his arm and making a run for it, but he didn’t think his legs would hold him.

When Elliot was next to him, Cliff felt like he could keep it together. After all, he’d never had someone like Elliot to hold on to during these scary moments before. But now Elliot had gone home for the night and Cliff was alone in a tiny room without windows in the hospital, and he was losing it.

Cliff didn’t realize he was having a panic attack until the nurse came in because his heart monitor was going off. She tried to settle him down, speaking to him in hushed tones and reassuring him that he was safe, but he didn’t believe her. All he could think about was his prior bad experiences in hospitals. His entire chest felt tight and he was crying, which made it difficult to breathe in conjunction with his already junky lungs.

“Cliff, you need to slow down your breathing for me,” the nurse said, but Cliff couldn’t. He couldn’t control it. He was just as scared as the day he’d hid under the chair above the operating room from his father, abandoned and afraid to trust anybody.

The thing that did stop him panicking was the uncontrollable coughing fit that came on. All the tears and snot that came with crying choked him, and then he couldn’t stop. He coughed until he vomited onto his lap, tears and mucus mixing into a horrible puddle that he could feel seeping through the sheets onto his legs. He was so disgusting, he couldn’t stand himself. Elliot was right to leave him here alone.

The nurse called the other nurse for backup, and soon they were changing Cliff’s sheets together, changing his nasal cannula to a simple face mask while he was so snotty from crying, and one of them administered something through his IV that made him feel sleepy. Cliff’s nurse asked him if it would make him feel better to call his boyfriend.

“What time is it?” Cliff asked, his voice hoarse from crying and throwing up.

“Eleven,” she told him.

Cliff shook his head no. He had already woken Elliot up enough times this week. “It’s okay. He’s probably asleep.” They hadn't agreed on a time that Elliot was going to come back, Cliff realized. Elliot had said he’d be back in the morning. The morning could be eight, or it could be as late as noon. That was, if Elliot came back at all. No, he'd come back. Elliot kept his word - usually. Then again, Cliff had never expected Elliot to trick him into coming to the hospital. He understood he was really sick and needed help, he did, but the betrayal still stung.

After his nurse did another albuterol treatment through the mask, she changed Cliff back to a new (not snot-clogged) nasal cannula and left him to get some sleep. Cliff couldn’t rest though. Even with the lights off, all the machines cast a glow that kept the room too bright. The faint beeping of his heart monitor and the drip of his IV fluids reminded him too much of the last time he was in the hospital, and he felt vaguely nauseous despite being sure there was nothing left in his stomach. He curled in a tight ball and held his knees to his chest, trembling. He missed Elliot and wished he was here to make him feel safer right now. Instead, all he had was himself and a very long night ahead of him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cliff woke up drenched in sweat. He didn’t know where he was and immediately began to panic, but then he felt someone pushing him back down and shushing him.

“Elliot?” Cliff blinked in confusion. He’d finally cried himself to sleep in the wee hours of the morning but he hadn’t expected to sleep long enough that it was already within business hours. “What time is it?” His voice crackled, laden with wetness, and he let out a congested, barking cough. It made his sides ache and he gripped them automatically.

Elliot smiled at him and ran a delicate hand through Cliff’s damp hair. “Hi baby,” he said fondly. “It’s about nine AM.”

“Really?” Cliff glanced around, slowly remembering the details of yesterday. “I’m so hot,” he muttered.

“I think your fever broke,” Elliot said gently. “How do you feel?”

Cliff considered things. He felt significantly less achy than last night and it was easier to breathe. He didn’t feel like his brain was entirely full of sand - maybe just halfway. “Better,” he said. “Can I go home?”

“That’s up to the doctor,” Elliot said. “I ordered you some breakfast though. Do you feel up to eating? I got you oatmeal and toast.”

Cliff grimaced, remembering all the vomiting he’d done yesterday. “I’m not sure.”

“You can see how you feel when it gets here,” Elliot said. “The nurse said your breathing got a lot better after your second steroid injection.”

Only now did Cliff notice the lack of oxygen tubing on his face. He’d fallen asleep with it on and Cliff was shocked he’d really been so passed out that the nurse had been able to give him IV meds, do vitals, and remove his oxygen without waking him up. He must have been truly exhausted.

“Thanks for coming back,” Cliff said suddenly, looking at his hands instead of Elliot’s face.

“Of course I came back,” Elliot responded. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

Promises didn’t always work out, Cliff thought to himself, but he just nodded yes. “Well, I missed you,” was all he responded. “So thanks.”

He was surprised by the quick kiss that Elliot stole from him, even though he hadn’t brushed his teeth since yesterday morning. “E-Elliot,” he stuttered, red faced as he sat back and covered his mouth with his hands in embarrassment.

“I missed you too,” Elliot said. His smile was so kind and genuine. It made Cliff feel so much better. “You did incredible staying here overnight by yourself.”

Cliff understood that Elliot was babying him a little, but he also realized that he was unable to stop himself from smiling into his hands. Something inside him felt so content when Elliot was proud of him. He wanted to feel like that over and over.

Breakfast arrived and Cliff picked at the food, trying to get down a few bites mostly because Elliot was staring at him so hopefully. He really wasn’t hungry, but he managed half of a piece of toast and two bites of oatmeal before he couldn’t manage any more. It was difficult to eat when his cough was still so harsh, overtaking him at random moments and leaving him doubled over in bed, his arms clutching his sides in pain. At least he managed to keep the food down, though.

The doctor came by shortly after Cliff finished eating and examined him. He listened to Cliff’s lungs and cough, nodding along with his own conclusions. “I believe it’s safe to send you home, but you have to promise to rest and do nothing else for several more days,” he said finally. “How does that sound to you?”

Cliff nodded in agreement. He’d gladly stay in Elliot’s bed for another week if it meant getting rid of this awful cough - preferably, far away from any hospitals. Elliot awkwardly raised his hand a little before speaking. “Excuse me Doctor, but we start classes back at school in the city on Monday. Will he be okay by then?”

“Hmm. You’ll have to play that by ear, but as long as he gets proper rest and takes his meds, no fevers, then probably. Do you have to walk far to get to class?”

Cliff shrugged. Sometimes, not always. Elliot answered for him though. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk too much,” his boyfriend said confidently.

“In that case, I’m not concerned about discharging him,” the doctor said. “I’ll put in the orders and we’ll have you out of here in a few hours. I do recommend you keep using a nebulizer at home for a few days and as needed, do you have one?”

Cliff shook his head no at the same time Elliot said, “We’ll get one for him, we just need the medicine.”

“You’ve got someone taking good care of you, I see,” the doctor chuckled. “I’ll write scripts for that too then. Make sure you follow up with an asthma doctor as soon as you can.”

Elliot thanked the doctor several times, Cliff echoing the sentiment with a simple thank you, and then all they had to do was wait for paperwork. In the meantime the nurse helped Cliff get back into normal clothes, took out his IV and detached him from all the equipment. He had sticky residue on his finger and chest from the oxygen and heart monitoring leeds that didn’t seem to want to come off, but it didn’t matter. He’d have plenty of time to scrub it off later. Cliff was just relieved to be escaping this place without a longer stay or his father finding out and showing up.

At discharge, Elliot bundled Cliff up in a warm jacket and hat even though it was late August. He pushed Cliff in a wheelchair down to the lobby, then ran to get the car. Cliff insisted he could walk, but he wasn’t entirely convinced of his own strength right now so didn’t push the matter much. He waited patiently for Elliot and waited to feel relieved for when they had officially left the premises of the hospital. It had only been one night, but it felt like a long time. The fresh air felt good on his skin and he took a deep breath, appreciating it even as it made him cough.

Elliot pulled up at patient pickup and helped Cliff into the car, settling him in the passenger’s seat. “My mom’s gonna pick up all your meds and find a nebulizer for you at home,” he explained as he drove. “We’re going to follow all the directions to a tee, get you straightened up before we head back to school this weekend.” He sounded confident about this plan, as if it were foolproof. “Do you want to shower when we get home, or go straight to bed?”

“Shower,” Cliff said. He didn’t want to smell like a hospital anymore. “Sorry about all this.”

Elliot shook his head. “It’s okay. I mean... I was really scared. But you’re going to be fine, so...”

“That’s what I mean,” Cliff said, looking at Elliot seriously. “I’m sorry for scaring you. And being a burden and crying and... I guess what I’m really trying to say is thank you for being there.”

Suddenly there were tears running down Elliot’s cheeks and Cliff panicked. “Wait, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

Elliot pulled over on the curb and wiped his eyes. He sniffled and gave a tiny laugh at the same time, which sounded funny to Cliff. “I’m just really glad you’re okay,” Elliot said, taking Cliff’s hand in his own and squeezing it. “And you’re welcome. But you’re not a burden and it’s okay. I love all of you, Cliff. When you’re sick or scared and lonely... I want to be there for you. Do you understand that?”

Cliff didn’t answer right away, not trusting his own voice not to waver right now. But finally he said, “I’m trying to.” It was more honest than the automatic ‘Yes’ he had very nearly said.

Elliot smiled a little sadly and leaned over to give Cliff a kiss on the cheek. “Okay, as long as you’re trying to,” he said. He looked both fond and sad. “Now let’s get you home and in bed. We’ve got a big school year waiting for us next week and you’re not getting out of that bed until Friday.”

“The nurse said a little exercise is good,” Cliff pointed out.

“Some very light exercise,” Elliot said. “Bed to couch and back is plenty. Got it?”

Cliff smiled. He found it amusing when Elliot got bossy. “Sure,” he said. “You’re in charge, El.”

Elliot grinned and started driving again. “You’re damn right I am.”

Fin.

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credince--writes · 1 year

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Rubber Ducky, You're the one.

John 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem!OC

Ludwig was a cold, hard man. His time had aged him, and it was visible in the white streaks and greying hairs mixing in with his raven black.

But? He was a damn good doctor.

Brutal.

He'd put his boot to your throat if you wiggled as he ripped a bullet from your abdomen.

It's also why he was honorably discharged and came back as a PMC. There is a fine line to walk, especially with the Hippocratic Oath.

Even moreso when you take it as a minor suggestion.

I swear by Apollo Healer, by Asclepius, by Hygieia, by Panacea, and by all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will carry out, according to my ability and judgment, this oath and this indenture.

He'd been dragged over half the goddamn planet during any given year, the real excitement of finding out if your practice would be a empty closet or dining table in the safehouse, or an actual office where you could compare the varying shades of yellowing white paint.

But, another very important concept for contracting a medic would be intelligence.

They didn't need to know a soldier's name,

Let alone ask questions about a mask.

They were all hiding demons of their own, so who were they to judge?

It was beneficial.

Ludwig was contracted with the 141 for not only his exceptional track record- well, mainly his exceptional track record. But on top of that, it always helped to be someone John Price could trust.

There had been more than one occasion when Ludwig's eyes still glittered with youth that he'd dragged the young lieutenant into the sidelines to rip a bullet from his flesh. Be the convincing force in an interrogation or someone that would share a cigar with him and enjoy a shared silence after a mission well done.

Their paths dived and converged throughout their career, eventually ending with Price calling upon the man five years ago.

"I need someone I know I can trust." Price had said.

That made the sinister grin creep onto his face.

And with that, he became their medical practitioner.

Their doctor.

The one to stitch them back together.

Mend their wounds.

He'd joke, he was there to kiss their boo-boos.

It was in that fifth year of him working with the task force that he was forced into his own leave.

"To make good on a favor."

Price was one not to press.

The less he knew the better.

But he needed someone he could trust.

An ally.

Someone that Ludwig would trust-

he needed someone that could get the job done.

The team doesn't take well to change.

So Price needed someone that Ludwig would recommend.

His apprentice-

was that the correct phrasing?

They weren't actual doctors, were they?

Either way, the day Ludwig left, he left a single white card- thick cardstock sharp around the edges with a phone number printed into the thick paper.

Nothing more.

He'd filed the paperwork, it had seemingly gone smoothly.

All he would have to do is wait for this new medic to arrive.

And wait he did.

The chopper landed, allowing her to grab her bags and hop out from under the thunderous beast and out toward the man standing on the tarmac to greet her. Striding out- half jogging to reach him she looked up.

"Captain Price!" She called out a kind, warm greeting.

"Miss Robberts, it's great to finally get you here."

"Call me Ducky." She shoots him a crooked grin.

Price couldn't help but recognize it as being so similar to the crooked grin Ludwig would always shoot.

"You apprenticed under Ludwig?" He asks.

"Indeed, he told me y'all were in need to have someone trustworthy that could get the job done. Who better than someone he taught himself?" She snickers, proudly holding her shoulders and puffing her chest out.

Price nods, leading her toward one of the large buildings scattered around the compound.

Walking in through the door, she was met with what she could only assume to be their primary living quarters.

"They're out training, so you'll be able to settle in just fine until then. You'll be in Ludwig's old room."

She nodded, following him to her new quarters, dropping her bags inside the room, and continuing to follow the tour of the building.

"This is our... Infirmary." He steps to the side, boasting a single office building, a table tucked into the wall and a desk pushed into the corner. "There's another Infirmary, but this is where our in-house doc stays."

"Assuming there's the territorial pissing match of military doctors to PMC's?"

Price chuckled, lifting a hand up and rubbing the back of his neck. "Glad I don't have to explain it."

"Nah, you're good. You wanna let me rummage around in here and find out what the old man left me and you can go about your day Captain?"

"I'll leave you to it then." He nods, leaving her in her new domicile.

Hope Ludwig left the Q-Tips.

....

"Sargeant Mactavish, but everyone calls me Soap." He extends a hand out to her, and she gives him a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you Soap. I hope we keep our interactions minimal." She says kindly- it wasn't a bad statement. It was true, to an extent. The less you saw the medic it was the less you were injured. Not something bad to wish upon someone.

He laughed, dropping his hand and turning to the Humvee. "Dontcha' worry 'bout me then. Us Scottsmen have thick skin."

"And a thicker head." Price stated, walking up behind the two.

"Captain." The two of them greet.

"This is just a normal- run-of-the-mill supply drop out to one of our sat bases. I'm having Ducky run out with you just in case any medic services are needed but aren't being fulfilled. In and out."

"In and out." Soap echoes.

She climbed into the vehicle- passenger seat with Soap clamoring into the rig to start it and begin driving.

"So you know Ludwig?" He asked, shooting her a side glance.

"Yes. I was his apprentice."

To hold my teacher in this art equal to my own parents; to make him partner in my livelihood; when he is in need of money to share mine with him; to consider his family as my own brothers, and to teach them this art, if they want to learn it, without fee or indenture; to impart precept, oral instruction, and all other instruction to my own sons, the sons of my teacher, and to indentured pupils who have taken the Healer’s oath, but to nobody else.

"So you know how much of a rank prick he can be?"

"Would assume so, heard I'm meaner though."

"Bit to small to hold me down in the field and pick a bullet from my ass."

"I'd simply sedate you."

Soap couldn't tell if that was a joke or not.

The drive was long, but no issues along the way it would seem.

"So..."

She glanced over, shooting him a look. "Hm?"

"Ducky."

"That's my name."

"Bit cute, innit?"

"Suppose so."

"Why do you call yourself Ducky?"

"Why do you call yourself Soap?"

"Touche... You met the rest of the team yet?"

"No, just you and Price."

"Don't let em' scare you. Buch a' softies."

"I'm sure."

It went smoothly, honestly. She'd swear on scouts honor- not that she had any. But arriving to the Sat location was a breeze. Mainly a supply dropoff- not much more than that to it. There were no injuries needing to be tended to that weren't already tended to.

Dare she say it was going as a pretty good run.

But that's usually when things go to shit.

That's right about the time that it did.

You know, it's funny how those things go.

It's funny how everything goes, really.

She'd laugh about this in a few hours, probably.

But right now she was seething.

Her first time out with a new teammate and it goes mach 5-level shit against the fan?

She'd yelled into the radio, demanding immediate medical evac for the group of wounded men she was tending for. One in particular of her primary interest.

Soap.

She was currently sitting on top of him- she was sure if he was breathing he'd be making some quip about it. Pushing her hands down into his chest with compressions.

The helicopter landed against the tarmac, back to the larger infirmary- one she wasn't introduced to and medics were already pulling the gurney from the helo- all with her continuing her compressions.

There were garbled voices, questioning, yelling, the groans and moans of the injured filling the space around her.

They were pushing the gurney now, double doors flying open as she continued compressions.

"How long have we been without a pulse?" Someone asked.

"Twenty." She seethes out, her breath ragged as she continued CPR.

I will use those dietary regimens which will benefit my patients according to my greatest ability and judgment, and I will do no harm or injustice to them. Neither will I administer a poison to anybody when asked to do so, nor will I suggest such a course. Similarly I will not give to a woman a pessary to cause abortion. But I will keep pure and holy both my life and my art. I will not use the knife, not even, verily, on sufferers from stone, but I will give place to such as are craftsmen therein.

"You need to call it." A woman said.

"Go fuck yourself." She seethes out.

The sound of the flatline ringing in her ears while an oxygen mask was pushed up to his face.

She lifted her hands from his chest, frantically looking around for anything-

oh goody.

Have you ever tried to start a lawn mower, and it just wouldn't start?

So your good ol' dad lumbers out with the saunter- the one with a beer in one hand, cig hanging from his lips, and that good ol' boy starting fluid in the other?

He said when he was younger he'd huff the stuff, not now.

Give it a spritz into the carb and give her a rip.

Well, adrenaline was the starting fluid of the human world.

Probably why they gave her such a limited supply.

Afraid they'd catch her huffing it in the broom closet at school.

They never caught her.

There were hands on her- a petite little nurse, cute thing really grabbing onto her arm and trying to pull her off of Soaps rapidly cooling body.

She reached her hand out- spreading her fingers wide and pushing against her face, stiff-arming her and sending her clattering to the floor.

She'd send a 'sorry you were in my way' card later, but there was a task at hand.

Into whatsoever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick, and I will abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of man or woman, bond or free. And whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession, as well as outside my profession in my intercourse with men, if it be what should not be published abroad, I will never divulge, holding such things to be holy secrets.

Was it about saving a fellow teammate?

Kind of.

It was more about avoiding a giant pain in the ass.

Don't think the team would be very much fond of her if she let their dear old little Soap die the first time she was sent out with him, would they now?

Her hand gripped around the pre-measured syringe of adrenaline, spinning- lifting her arm, all with a fury of passion to slam the needle down directly into his chest. Dispersing the liquid energy into his heart.

Call it a hail mary.

"Fuck!" She yelled out- maybe a little too loud because the commotion had gathered the attention of the doctors- as well as a security officer.

"Get her out of here!" One of them yell.

She scrambled over, grabbed another syringe, and plunged it into his chest-

almost immediately his eyes flashed open and his entire body heaved forward, oxygen mask wrapped around his face as his eyes scattered to try and find anything-

landing on Ducky- bloody, dirty, and with one of the smuggest grins the man had ever seen plastered on his face.

"Welcome back, Suds."

Two security officers grabbed her from under the shoulders, heaving her off of the gurney and cuffing her wrists behind her back, dragging her out of the door.

They dragged her surprisingly back to the 141s hub of operations- or as Ducky called it- the love shack.

She'd long sense stopped walking out of spite, allowing them to drag her the entirety of the way. Slamming open the door and throwing her down onto the ground.

Looking up, she saw three men, Price tapping his foot anxiously, a larger man in all black pacing back and forth, and a dark-skinned man leaning against the wall, anxiously sucking on a cig.

"Doctor Johnson highly suggests you not step foot anywhere near the infirmary, or you will be arrested."

"Lick ass you mall cop."

The two huffed, leaving her on the floor with the cuffs around her back still.

"You gonna uncuff me you fuckin'-"

"Ducky." Price says, immediately silencing her.

"Yea- fuck." She sighs, sitting up and rolling her shoulders. "He's fine Revived him before they dragged me off."

"He's alive? They just said he was dead-" The man leaning up against the wall spoke, pushing off and walking toward her.

"Thinkin' that was before I punched Tinkerbell and sunk a twofer of adrenaline into his chest."

She couldn't tell if it was a look of horror or relief.

She sighed, laying down on the cold cement floor and rolling over onto her stomach. "Can someone be a dear and pick this for me?"

"Price- this is our new medic?"

"Ah, yes. Gaz, Ghost. This is Ducky- Ducky, meet Gaz," He points, "nd Ghost."

"Lovely. Thinking we can have a tea party now to celebrate my newfound banishment from the infirmary."

Maybe it wasn't too bad of a first impression.

Now if I carry out this oath, and break it not, may I gain for ever reputation among all men for my life and for my art; but if I break it and forswear myself, may the opposite befall me.

#soap x oc #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader

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hinatastinygiant · 2 years

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Chapter Seventeen

Pieris Napi

Pairing: Haikyuu!! x Fem!Reader

previous | next |��2099

"Seriously? You want to help these guys? Do you actually want them to stick around? What the hell, Y/N?" Tsukishima whisper shouts at you from where you both stand behind the bus.

"I agree with Tsukki," Kuroo nods. "Those guys are fucking trouble. We should let them go before something bad happens."

"But nothing bad is going to happen! Osamu won't hurt us as long as his brother needs my help and he knows I won't help if something happens to you guys, too," you tell them.

"And what about the brother? What about Atsumu?" Tsukishima continues.

"He's hurt. He wants my help. I could tell even though he didn't say anything."

"I don't trust them," Tsukishima says as he shakes his head and crosses his arms.

"I never said I trust them!" you groan. "But I'm still going to help."

"You're really going to go right now? We just got back, can't you at least wait 'til morning to leave?" Tsukishima then offers.

"I'd rather go now in case something happens to Yachi or the others. I want to make sure they've all got everything they need. It's nearby. It'll be quick and I'll be fine."

"At least let me go with you," the both of them say at the same time.

"Tsukishima, thank you for the offer," you address to him first, "but I need you to say here with the bus and you know why. Kuroo, truly, I'll be okay."

"Then just let me tag along behind you. You won't even know that I'm there," he insists. You look over at Tsukishima's upset face before finally giving in.

"Fine, but hurry up and let's go."

About five minutes later, you and Kuroo wave goodbye to Tsukishima, Kenma, and Bokuto before walking off. You keep to the sides of the roads, staying hidden as much as possible, until you finally arrive at the old office where you used to work before the whole world shut down.

You reach into your pocket for the key to the chained lock you have around the front doors. You quickly unlock it and allow yourselves in. The inside of the office is completely dark except for the light shining from between the windows you boarded up yourself to prevent intruders from getting inside.

"My room is over here to the left," you call to Kuroo as you walk past the nurse's station. However, just as your hand reaches the doorknob, the front doors are burst open once more as if yet another patient was about to be rolled in.

"Not so fast, you two!" a man shouts.

You turn to face the front door to see a man with short blond hair and two black stripes running vertically down his head.

"Who the hell are you?" Kuroo asks as he blocks the man's view of you behind him.

"My name is none of your damn business," the man smirks as he holds up a heavy-looking machine gun.

"Seriously," you grumble. "Hey, dude, we don't have time for this. Take whatever shit you want and leave us alone!"

"Yeah, like that'll happen," Kuroo says sarcastically. "He'll totally just wait until you've got Osamu's gun and kill him first, too. I'm sure he understands."

"What's that for?" you now begin to bicker with your companion. "You're really going to be a dick right now?"

"Well, apparently you still help people even when they are complete assholes," he replies irritatedly.

"I already told you I'm not doing this just for him. I'm also going to get stuff for Yachi, Alisa, and Lev!"

"Will the two of you stop?! You sound fucking insane!?" the man with the machine gun interrupts.

You finally leave Kuroo alone and look straight into your assailant's eyes. "You look hurt," you say as you begin to slowly approach him. "We're here because this is my office. I'm a doctor. If you're hurt, I can help you."

You hear Kuroo scoff from behind you.

"I don't need your fucking help, I need you out of my goddamn way, bitch!"

When you get close enough to the man, you reach out your hand palm up. "You've got a pretty bad wound on your head. Is there anything I can do?"

"I already said no, goddammit," he shouts as he points his gun straight to your forehead. In an instant, you grab his wrist and force his arm up. He fires the gun multiple times into the ceiling. Kuroo charges up from behind you and tackles the guy to the ground. In the mix of the confusion, the gun falls to the ground and you pick it up.

"I don't save everyone," you say with narrowed eyes to Kuroo. "I was actually going to help this piece of shit. Get out of the way before you go to hell with him."

The moment Kuroo moves out of the way, you land a good twenty to thirty rounds into the man's body.

"Well that's fucking gross," Kuroo comments as he stands up.

"Let's move it outside. There's a garbage disposal in the back of the building," you plan.

Kuroo agrees and the two of you move the body out of your way.

"Ah, shit. I'm gonna throw up," he mutters as you pull the blonde's body through the office.

"It's disgusting but I didn't really have a choice."

"Well thank goodness you didn't decide to tear my body up like that, too, or I'd come back to haunt you without a fucking doubt," he scoffs.

"Why are you in such a mood today?" you groan as you burst open the back door leading outside to the disposal.

"Jesus, Y/N," Kuroo huffs as the two of you toss the corpse into the huge waste container in the back of your doctor's office. "I'm tossing a dead body into a bin after you just promised you'd help two other guys that wanted to kill us! I can't figure you out!"

"I'm not asking you to! You're the one who wanted to stick around in the first place hoping it'll be 'fun'. Hate to break it to you Tetsuro, but there is no goddamn thing in this world anymore. If you don't like that then fucking leave! I'm trying to save people's lives! I have Bokuto and Yachi and Lev, Alisa, and Atsumu relying on me to keep them alive! I don't have time to entertain whatever game you're hoping to play here!"

Kuroo wipes the blood from his hands onto the sides of his pants. "Yeah, no shit, Y/N. I'm sorry for trying to find a few people and make a decent life out of this fucking mess instead of rolling over and dying myself but I guess a doctor like you doesn't see through that lens. I'm out of here."

With that, he storms off in a hurry. You watch as he walks away, unsure of what to say or do in response, but if he just wants to go then that's his decision, not yours. Your only hope is that maybe he'd come back for Kenma at the very least.

previous | next | 2099

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crowcryptid · 2 years

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your job sounds like a new hell every week and you should throw the disappearing girl under the bus

I do want to throw her under the bus tbh

I escaped one hell job to go to another but they’re 2 very different brands of hell

just complaining below teehe

Old job: face to face interaction with strangers who treat you like trash even though we all work for the same company. Also my desk parasite, the new employee who my boss refused to put to work so she just sat next to me for like.. 3 months? 4 months? Idk. She was annoying. Also she put in her 2 weeks notice when I quit but idk if she actually left. Lol.

New job: very calm and chill, for now*. The trade off is that I’m stuck with a bunch of grumpy old people who are scared of technology. Also the job is 100% doable from home but because Old People I have to come in. What should be 8:30 AM-5 PM is now 5 AM-6 PM. And just to make it sting even more. I’m always done with work by 2-3 PM. It’s a huge waste of time. The disappearing lady is a real mystery tho. When I first started here she was normal, nice, worked a normal schedule. Then she became nasty, which is her real personality because she was only nice when I first started. Then she started working for 12+ hours a day for absolutely no reason, which stressed her out, causing her to become even worse. I really REALLY need to reinforce that there was no reason for her to do that. We do NOT have that much work here. There’s not even enough work to fill a regular schedule. She spent most of the day watching tv at her desk. But still decided to be there all day long. Yeah. I don’t get it either. Now she’s back to her normal schedule but just.. walks out. She’s there in the morning and leaves around 9:30. Comes back to eat lunch. Then leaves for another few hours. Then comes back to get her stuff and leaves for the day. My boss is aware that she’s doing this cause my boss specifically requested I answer the phone when she’s not there :|

Anyway. The lady is so goddamn annoying that I’m glad when she’s gone but the problem is that the only other person who can answer the phones is out for the week. So. That means I’m all alone. Getting yelled at on the phone because I can’t actually give people the patient’s results that they’re asking for 😀

*My boss informed me that she Has Plans™️ for me and going by her description, the job will stop being chill. Because she wants me to be her little messenger between over a dozen doctors, wants me to send constant updates to every office about insurance changes, IT for when shit doesn’t work (tbh she already makes me do this part), and cover for whoever is out :|.. that was not in the job description. No increase in pay either, of course. The only reason it hasn’t happened yet is because she is waiting for the program they use to be upgraded which is happening sometime in 2023. Once the system is upgraded, then I will be doing all that.

#tldr all this could be avoided if they just let me work from home AHHHHHH

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sulcrafatejackets · 2 years

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Well dang so if TJ Health Pavilion presses charges against me because they’re afraid for their life because apparently a person who has severe health problems that are not being addressed by monkeys that’s a very threatening thing to you guys three of you are just our is it everybody I don’t know it seems like they get in a really tight net work at the pavilion the receptionist and everybody just join into this very anti-human behavior they sit around and talk about peoples conditions all day long and everything else the medical doctors there real pieces of shit

A person who is a public figure is a frightening thing because she doesn’t own a gun even though she can buy a gun she doesn’t carry a knife even though she could carry a knife and should carry a knife she doesn’t even carry pepper spray because of that thing that happened when she was eight years old seven years old eight years old now now I was eight yeah that’s so scary Doctors I can see that 5 foot one 100 pounds dealing with osteoarthritis or a misaligned back dealing with classism dealing with sexism from you motherfuckers and I am going to mess up Dr. Christopher but you know what here’s the funny thing is that actually yeah Dr. Ken is going to mess Dr. Barringer up and Dr. Barringer I don’t think he’s going to live I just have a bad feeling you guys that’s one of those who saying things he thinks he’s being a goddamn funny motherfucker and he’s not who sang is that what you said is there an Indian joke is that a pistachio joke that I haven’t heard doctor? Why don’t you go fuck your fucking idiot self go back to Florida besides I have a doctor down there who already wants to cut your fucking face off

#Dr.JamesHeltsley #LieutenantColonelDoctorJamesChickenBabyRapistHeltsley

My ears … Jesus

Oh also you guys that Betty Jean woman that mafia lady that works for Brian? Do you know the one with the false teeth

Oh I was supposed to leave Bryant in there because that was the ironic joke I understand well Betty Jean keeps bothering me with spam messages oh she’s one of those is it suggested than that if it’s a Nelliebell Bettijean situation that they’re being forced to molest or rape people

There’s a possibility to it but if they want their freedom they will write out the medical doctors

And besides why is Betty Jean messaging me with these weird text messages and shit about like photos of me on some kind of photo booth thing or something what is that Betty Jean like it was like stock images or some shit

And then he decides that he wants to call the Pepper Pike Police Department on me and they are calling me so much that I already know that they are trafficking little babies among other disgusting things but the FBI is watching that as well

You see officers this is not a situation for your egos to be out of control this is a situation where you need to sit the fuck down shut the fuck up and figure out how you’re going to get out of life imprisonment for trafficking those children in Ohio Pepper Pike Police Department harassing bastard son of a bitches

You could’ve just left me the fuck alone and I might’ve actually thought that you were a person who did police work instead of being a harassing white male as usual fuck yourselves

But Brian is so much smarter than you he says so much smarter I don’t think he is I think that he and James Heltsley both feel really really scared

Is Ricky OK?

Oh Catherine I don’t know if you’re familiar with Ricky Perkins or not it’s a very very important situation and I think that Dr. Brian might’ve been laughing yesterday but we really really need to make sure that these kids are being watched and taken care of because these doctors are going to try to kill the rest of us traffic survivors I mean

#Ricky Perkins #Christopher behringer do #brian harmych md #doctor Ken #TJ Health Pavilion #Racism #Doctors are watching you doctors #And telling the FBI #Tick-tock

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mellowswriting · 3 years

Note

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist | Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I��ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

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#javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #narcos

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avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

leave out all the rest | c. beck

→ pairing: chris beck x black!reader

→ word count: 5387

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, smidge of angst, smut, sex, breeding kink, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, explicit language

→ square filled: @badthingshappenbingo

flashbacks

→ request: chris beck + breeding kink + "babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that" + "I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that"

→ author note: dr. space daddy is finally here! this is also the first of my 5k celebration fics! all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. thanks so much for the request @thedarkplume! title from linkin park leave out all the rest (i loveeee this song); line divider by @firefly-graphics; flashbacks are in italics. i also formatted this with the beta text post editor on desktop... so hopefully nothing looks weird and the italics/bold actually work... it is tumblr after all.

oh, hey, there’s a bit of a marvel crossover in this too!

Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel in this moment. Your stomach hasn’t been settled since you got the call two days ago. It’s been flipping and twisting ever since. Sleep hasn’t come easy either, but you’re used to that. Ever since Chris left, you haven’t slept well. It’s been almost seven hundred and thirty days— well, just three days short.

You follow the two tall military men, decked out in their dress blues, through the secure facility, your black leather combat boots thudding against the tile floors. Everything is white— the walls, the floors, the coats of all the scientists and doctors milling about— except for you and your flowery, thigh length sundress. Dark eyes wide, teeth nibbling on a sore, often bloody bottom lip from all the nibbling, small purse bouncing off one hip as a duffel bag bounces off the other.

Winding through corridor after corridor, pausing as the men lift their badges to keypads to get door after door to click open. An eerie quiet looms throughout the entire building, nothing but random beeps, your breathing, and footsteps.

Nervous doesn’t begin to describe it.

The walk gives you too much time to think about the last seven hundred and twenty seven days. All of the crying. All of the anger— the screaming. Chris trying to calm you down, assure you that they were okay— that he had to do this.

"It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?" You sobbed into the phone, staring up into the stars, knowing that he couldn’t but secretly hoping that he could see you.

"This is not easy for me," he choked back tears, his tongue heavy, "Leaving you is never easy but I have to do this, baby. We have to go back for Mark. We have to."

You didn’t answer his calls for over a week. And when you did, your words were quick and harsh.

"I can’t do this anymore. I’m moving in with my sister."

Chris was silent on the other end of the phone— too silent. He sighed after a while and just said, "Ok. I understand."

That was day four hundred and sixty three.

So you moved in with your sister. Got a job at the local bar, picked up every shift you could, sometimes working sixty, seventy hours a week— just so you didn’t have to think about him. It didn’t work. You’d still stare out the window at night, up into the big black sky and through the twinkling little stars, wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was thinking about you.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris continued to call your sister. Just to check on you.

Day seven hundred was when two Air Force officers walked into the bar as you were cutting up lemons and oranges. Your stomach, in a perpetual state of tight and sour, dropped to your feet. It’s never good when the military comes knocking on your door.

“He’s dead,” you spit out, eyes watering, chest starting to heave, “He’s dead, isn’t he? They’re all dead.”

When they removed their hats, your hands flew to your face, covering your mouth to muffle the sobs. You just knew they were all dead. Humans can’t stay in space for this long. It’s not natural.

“No ma’am,” the taller, brown skinned man answered, a small smile breaking onto his face, showing off the distinctive gap between his two front teeth, “They’re back in our orbit. They’ll be landing within the next seventy two hours.”

It was a flurry after that. Phone calls, you moving back onto the base, protocol gatherings, interviews with local and national media. None of it mattered. You just wanted to see him— you needed to see him.

Not before his mandatory three week quarantine that is.

Day seven hundred and twenty five is when they called to let you know that he was ready to move onto the second phase of his integration back on earth. Two weeks cohabitating with another person of his choice, just to make sure that his body and cells can still tolerate, you know, earth— and that he doesn’t give off anything that could make earthlings sick.

They called to let you know that Chris chose you— if you wanted to, of course. If not, he could call his sister.

You were packing your bag before the call even ended.

After two days of getting tested for everything known to man, it’s now day seven hundred and twenty seven and here you are, passing through the last set of doors and stepping into a large observatory room. One of the General’s starts talking, but you don’t hear a word. You just blink slow, lips falling open as you stare back at Chris as he stands at the little square window of his living quarters. He smiles soft, running his hand through his short, dark hair before waving and placing his palm on the window.

Tears cloud your vision. Your chin trembles as a sad smile spreads on your face. A sob chokes in your throat and a warm tear streaks down your cheeks. Despite the talking man, you step up to the window and press your much smaller hand on the glass, spreading your fingers to match his. Chris rests his forehead to it and you do the same as you really start to bawl— shoulders shaking, face breaking, breath rushing fast and hard.

"Baby, don’t cry. Come on pretty, don’t— don’t cry."

Chris’ voice is muffled by the thick glass, but just hearing it— so close, so familiar— after so longs it’s just… it’s almost too much. It is too much.

“Ma’am, we can’t let you in there like this. We need you to calm down.”

Dense thuds shake the glass as Chris pounds on it, "Open the door, Sam!"

Sam grabs your bicep, gently, guiding you towards the door— Chris following you both, still talking to you through the glass.

"It’s okay baby, I’m right here. I’m right here."

“We need you to calm down,” Sam starts again, “He hasn’t been around—”

"Sam! Goddamn it, leave her alone! Open the door!"

“Beck! You cool it in there!”

"Don’t be an asshole! Open the door! She’s scared!"

You hear a scoff, “Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.”

"I swear to God—"

“Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.” Sam is stern now, pointing his finger towards Chris.

Sam pauses for a few long seconds, blinking slow but keeping his hand around your bicep— and thank God, because you honestly need it, “I’m going to badge you into the hallway, okay? You take this keycard,” he presses it into your palm, “And put it up to the keypad at the second door after I close this door behind you. It’s only good for one passthrough— once you’re in, you’re in until the medical staff clears you both. Understand?”

The second half of his speech is softer, his thumb rubbing the back of your arm. You like Chief Master Sergeant Sam Wilson. You nod quick, rubbing at your face with the back of your hand, sniffling hard and focusing a shaky breath out through your teeth as you step in front of the door. There’s a loud click and the metal pops, Sam reaching past you to push it open.

Your body, on autopilot, takes three steps to the second door, eyes staring at the keypad on the wall beside it. Chris is still talking to you through the windows, one hand pressed to the glass, the other on the door handle.

"Just a few more seconds baby. You’re doing so good."

There’s another click— Sam closing the door behind you. Water fills your eyes again, emotion choking up in your throat at the gravity of it all. All of the screaming. All of the crying. All of the hating him and loving him and missing him for seven hundred and twenty seven days all culminating right here, right now, while he’s just three feet away from you. The sky used to be the thing keeping you apart— now it’s just a wall. A door— that you can’t walk through.

"Baby, Chris says gently, "Come on baby. Open the door, honey."

You’re frozen. Eyes locked on the keypad, fingers gripping the keycard so hard they start to burn. Open the door, honey takes you back. Takes you back to the day that he told you he was going up— that he’d be gone for a year.

“Open the door, honey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You sniffle, staring at your reflection in the mirror in your small bathroom.

“You knew this was coming. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“A year? A year, Chris? I’m just supposed to put my life on hold for you for an entire year?”

He sighs through the door, “I’ve worked my ass off for this, you know that.” You do know that, you’re just being selfish. Needy and selfish, “I know we’ve got plans baby, but it’s just a year. One year and then I’m all yours—”

“Yeah, until the next time you decide to go up there. This is what Melissa warned me about. You get addicted to it.”

“I won’t.”

“You will,” you retort, “I know you.”

That makes him laugh, and then you’re laughing because he’s laughing, “Open the door, please.” Chris sighs again.

As soon as you turn the knob, he’s pushing through it, lifting you up off your feet and twirling you around— to make you laugh again.

You were standing on a precipice that night and neither one of you knew it. Your lives, both individual and combined, would change forever and that was the night that set it all in motion.

The keycard digs into your fingers and palm, bringing you back into the present. Back into the hallway, back in front of Chris. You blink, linking eyes with him again, finding them soft and down turned, his head tilted as he presses his fingers to the glass.

"Let me hold you," he says soft. So soft that the glass between you gobbles it up. But you just know that’s what he said. You just know.

The door clicks in your ear, a breeze is in your face as Chris throws it open, and then you’re consumed. Arms wrapped around you, hard chest against yours as you’re lifted right off of your feet. He’s so warm— he’s always been so damn warm.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, leaning back a little as you push your face into his neck, “This moment was the only thing keeping me going.”

“I’m sorry,” you sob, pushing your face into his shoulder, your tears wetting his NASA sweatshirt, “I’m so sorry, I was so selfish,” the words are clipped and broken, heavy on your tongue, “Chris, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that, it doesn’t matter.” He sits you back on your feet, rubbing your back with both of his large hands, “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

You cry openly into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and pushing your hands up into his sweatshirt, under the thin t-shirt underneath— just to feel his skin, “I missed you so much.”

One, two, three, four pecks of his warm lips on the top of your head before he rests his cheek there, holding you tight as he takes a deep breath, “All that’s over now, hmm?” you can feel the smile on his face, “We don’t have to miss each other anymore.”

A yawn pushes out of your mouth as you stretch out tight, sore muscles screaming. Eyes flutter as you shift, another deep breath pushing out your nose as you nuzzle your face into the pillows, body cocooned in warmth. You’re drifting again, quick, when an abrupt panic races through your veins without warning. Your stomach drops, skin instantly flushing with heat as you spring up, eyes as wide as saucers as your breath rushes.

That’s when you hear it, an all too familiar sound. A pencil, tapping slowly, methodically, against something. It calms you instantly. It’s real, you’re real, Chris is real, and you’re here. He’s here.

You swing your legs over the edge of the small bed, tucked in the corner behind a small partition. There’s a soft light glowing underneath it and a single red blinking dot emanating from the corner of the room— a camera. You push your hair out of your face but keep your fingers on your cheeks, closing your eyes as you focus on your breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. There’s a murmur, Chris mumbling to himself and you can’t help but smile.

You stand and start moving towards the noises, padding soft and slow as his mess of brown hair and hunched back comes into view. He stands, switching out an X-Ray on the viewer before he plops back down into the swivel chair, staring at it for a second before he starts flipping through the large, open text book just to his left. There’s a little white board off to the right, leaning against the wall, the days he’s been “gone”, seven hundred and twenty seven, scribbled in his messiest of messy handwriting.

The little slice of time watching him sends you right back to your college years, waking up in his dorm room, finding the bed empty and him huddled over a too small desk, furiously flipping through a thousand page text book. You’d sneak up on him, just as you are now, barely dressed and sleepy eyed. Dig your fingers into his hair, scratch his scalp slow. Giggle as his shoulders slump and his head falls back a little, him moaning all the while.

“God, that feels good.”

“You let me fall asleep.”

“You cried yourself to sleep. Didn’t have the heart to wake you… you look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

“Hmm, more like two. What are you doing?” you ask, pushing around his side and crawling into his lap, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Looking at our X-Rays from earlier today. I’m working on another paper for the Institute.”

“Trying to see if you guys are still earthlings?”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through you, making you smile, “Kinda, yeah. Our body masses have changed dramatically— our bones are longer, I’m not shitting you.” You giggle again at the enthusiasm in his voice, “It’s just a few centimeters, but still. Our brain waves are a little different, metabolism has sped up… it’s incredible.”

You keep the small smile on your face as your fingertips drift over his chest, rubbing slow as you feel his eyes fall to you, “You should get back in bed,” he says, squeezing your knee gently, “You look so tired, baby.”

“Not without you.”

He laughs again, “My circadian rhythm’s all fucked up, I can’t sleep.”

“Then it looks like you're stuck with me,” you kiss his chin and then cuddle back into him, “Don’t mind me.”

Mind you, he doesn't. He just goes about flipping pages and scribbling down random thoughts, marking up his pile of x-rays and fumbling through his and the rest of the crew's medical charts. You push your hand up into the arm of his navy blue NASA sweatshirt, raking your nails up and down his forearm absentmindedly as you breathe him in. Your other hand wanders too, tracing the band of his dark sweatpants before skipping up into his sweatshirt, brushing over his stomach and up to his chest.

The pads of your fingers outline the muscles that are still there, his pecs, down and across his soft abs, before back up and over a cheeky nipple. He jumps slightly, crinkling his nose as he smiles big and hard, “Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

“Oh, is that so?”

You bat two big eyes up at him, the weight of going almost two years without catching up with you right at this moment. A hum vibrates in your throat as you stand, taking a few steps away from him before you toss your eyes over your shoulder, licking your bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it. You hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers after a few moments, watching him drag his big eyes down your bare legs and then back up over your powder pink satin shorts and matching camisole.

“Come to bed, Dr. Beck.”

He’s up and on his feet before the words are out of your mouth. Warm fingers interlace with yours as the two of you move back towards the bed, falling onto the soft twin size mattress. His weight dips into the bed as he sinks his knees into it, pulling his sweatshirt over his head as you crawl towards the headboard. You draw your legs up, swaying them gently back and forth, palms flat on your thighs as you inhale deep, watching as he tosses his shirt to the floor.

The smile on your face grows larger as he crawls over you, pushing your legs open with his soft hands before he settles right between them. Chris takes his time looking at you, smiling soft as his eyes drift over your face, his index finger dragging down the bridge of your nose, over two full lips, and down your chin and neck. You let out a quick breath when the pad of that sneaky finger dips just inside your tank top— right into your cleavage.

He cups your face, his thumb resting on your lips, brushing gently, “I’m never leaving you again,” he whispers, blue eyes filling with earnest as they bounce between yours, “I mean it.”

You turn your head into his palm, pressing your lips into the soft, warm skin, planting kisses, “You promise?”

The delivery is breathless. Quiet. Small. Almost begging him to mean it. He takes a deep breath, pushes it out slow before leaning in, closing his eyes as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. That’s when he kisses you— slow. Deep. Tongue pushing through your lips and into your mouth. Massaging the roof of your mouth before sliding along your tongue. He even moans a little, lets his body— muscles, bones, brain— relax. Lets himself melt into you because it’s just been so damn long.

It ends slow, the kiss. Chris grabbing your lip with his teeth and pulling gently before he rests his forehead to yours. Eyes closed, his big, skilled hands and fingers flirting with your calves—pushing over your knees and then down your thighs to come to rest on your sides and hips.

“I promise.” You slide your hands up and down his sides, letting your eyelids flutter as he continues, punctuating his words with more gentle kisses, “We can start that life you’re so crazy about,” he laughs when you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, “Buy you a house.”

“On the base?”

“I thought you didn’t like the base?”

“I don’t… but I kinda... do.”

“Then yeah, on the base if that’s what you want.”

Your eyes are still closed as hot lips press against your face— the crook of your nose, underneath one eye, cheeks, and then chin. You push your fingers up into his hair as he forges a path with his lips and tongue— down your neck, over two collarbones, down your arm— all the while his hands move upward. Up into your silk top, nimble fingers playing with two tight nipples before he rucks the silk top up to your chin.

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What about them?”

“Them, who?”

Pointing with your foot towards the blinking red light in the corner, “Them.”

He laughs and you laugh, covering your face with your hands until Chris pries them away, “They’re nerds, babe. We’ve already made them so nervous they’ve left the control room.”

You honestly can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. Not since he left you suppose. It’s a nice sound, for both you and him, filling up the small space, making it alive and lived in instead of clinical and dry, “That’s not nice, Chris!”

He shimmies the thin material up over your head, casting it to the floor, “It’s the truth! I should know. Remember the first time I saw you naked? I couldn’t look anybody in the eye for a week.”

The memory makes you laugh, soft and dreamy-like, “That was so long ago.”

Chris catches the tone. It makes him halt, for just a second, his eyes shifting away from you. Guilt. For holding you at an arm’s length for so long. For making you number two. For making you wait for him for so damn long.

You tilt your head, eyes searching his. Gentle hands claim his face, pulling him back into your strong gaze, “Stay with me,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, “You’re buying me a house.”

“Ah, yes,” with one fell swoop, your shorts are pulled down your legs, right over the tips of your manicured toes and thrown to the floor, “One story? Two?” He asks, back up on his knees.

“Umm, maybe just one,” You answer, sitting up, slipping your hands into the dark sweats still covering his bottom half, “A two story house is too much to keep clean.”

You pull, but not all the way. Just enough to see his hips and that little tuft of dark hair underneath his belly button. You can’t help yourself and lean forward, kissing his stomach, giggling when he jumps a little. When you do it again, kiss him, and then a third time, and a forth, he gives in. Sweeps your locs over your shoulders and pulls them into a ponytail in his hand. That’s when you hook your thumbs back underneath the thick band of his sweats and pull a little harder, pushing the material right over his hard cock, making it bounce.

Chris kicks out of the sweats, grabs your face in his hands and tilts it upward. Leans down and kisses you again— soft. Sweet. All while rubbing small circles into your cheeks with his thumbs. He stays there, forehead to forehead, eyelashes spread over his buttery, quickly blushing red cheeks as you palm him, dragging your hand from the base right to the tip.

It doesn’t take much— never has. After a few strokes, he’s wet and red all over. Chest, neck, cheeks. Mouth agape, pulling in ragged breaths as his eyelids flutter. He swallows hard, and then hums quick, deep and throaty before inhaling through his open mouth. You push upward, kissing him as you continue slow strokes, sweeping a thumb over his wet tip.

Fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh, down low, first by your knee. Then, slowly, they skirt upward, not groping or kneading, just brushing— flirting with your skin until they reach their destination. You gasp, mouth falling open as adept fingers— not only just in general, but with your body specifically— push through wet folds.

“One story it is then,” he breathes, hot, unhurried, “A dog and a,” he slams his eyes shut, hissing and grunting when you squeeze him, “Fuck baby,” he swallows again, lips trembling as he nuzzles in, rubbing the tips of your noses together, “A dog and a cat.”

Your free hand wraps around his neck, fingertips pushing into his hair as your head tips back, hips start to shove forward, eager for his touch— wanting those fingers inside. When Chris obliges, sinks his index and middle finger into your cunt— touch starved and needy— you mewl. Making a real sound for the first time in seven hundred and twenty seven days. It enlivens you both.

Chris pushes you back, lays you back onto the small mattress, spreads you out. Keeps his fingers inside, pumping slow, curling, massaging. Thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing. He lays between your legs, coming face to face with your most intimate and blows gently. Warm air sticking to balmy flesh. Big blue eyes flick up to yours, then back to your sweet, licking his lips as a squelch fills the room.

His tongue darts out, slips along the inside of your thigh. Your hips react instantly, jutting upward as a sharp breath fills your chest. A long arm pushes up your body, fingers prodding your breast, tweaking a nipple before he palms the skin, but not for long. Within seconds, his fingertips are pushing into a willing mouth. Your tongue, swirling around thick digits as you grab onto his hand, holding it there.

Warm air tickles damp skin again as he blows on you, “Have some babies,” he offers quick, the words muffled by your flesh as he finally laps at you, tongue slipping through sticky folds, flattening against your slit as he massages the delicate, “How many you want, baby?”

Nothing but a bitten-off groan answers him. It comes for many reasons. His fingers somehow delving deeper, lips brushing over your cunt— the thought of babies. Little brown skinned, curly headed babies running in the backyard with that dog and cat. Wide smiles, complete with missing teeth, loud laughter, declarations of love as they jump into mommy and daddy’s arms.

“Oh yeah,” heavy words breathed into your ear, a hunk of man now laying on top of you, cock pressing at your opening, “My pretty girl wants babies,” the wetness makes it easy for him to slide in— all the way in— bury deep, “I’m gonna give them to you. You’ve been so good.”

He’s moving, hips pushing and pulling as he cups your face in his hands, presses his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna fill you up,” he mutters, swollen lips brushing against yours, “Stuff you— full of— my, fuck,” a deep moan, another quick hiss as he bites his bottom lip, overcome by the warmth, the wet— the tight, “Fuck, you feel good.”

Feverish lips are on yours again, teeth nibbling as his hips shove into you. Soft and swift. A palm covering your breast, fingers pressing, kneading and working sensitive, responsive skin. Nipples hardening, heat blooming across an ardent canvas of skin, pulsing hips eager to meet his.

Chris cups your chin, pushes upward so you're forced to keep slitted eyes on him and him only, “You want my babies? Hmm? Tell me baby,” you can only whimper in response, digging your nails into his sides, drawing your legs up and around him as he plunges deep, “Come on honey, use those words. Tell me how much you want my babies.”

He fucks into you hard, jamming his hips just once— the sound of skin on skin slapping out loud and off the walls. It arches your back, the sudden, quick thrust. Sends you right up into his chest. Chris pulls you into his lap as he falls back on his ass, extending his legs, heels digging into the mattress as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and tight, fingers spreading out on your back.

Hips roll into one another. Fingers grip his calf as you lean back, hot, sloppy lips on your chest, over and between bouncing tits. A taut nipple pulled right into his wet mouth. Slippery tongue swirling and flicking, teeth nibbling before he sucks on the tight nub, teasing it further.

Then he’s holding your hips, forcing you down onto his cock. More rushed, sticky words falling from swollen, red lips, “You want me to fill you up? Hmm? Tell me.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, overcome by it all. The emotion of it, the physicality of you and him tangled together— the words, how many years you’ve waited to hear those words.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he purrs, thrusting harder, faster, “You want me to come in you, don’t you? You’d love it if I came in you, huh? Knocked you up? Gave you a baby?”

You kiss him hard. Cupping his face, moaning sweet into his wet mouth, “I want it,” it’s breathy— desperate, “I want it, Chris. I want it.”

“Then I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you.”

It’s feverish after that. Pushing and pulling. Grunting, smacking— lips on lips, skin on skin. Large hands gripping, fingers pressing into the meat of thighs and calves and ass and tits. His fingers grip the meat of your thighs, your ass, slide up your back— around your neck as your head falls back. Those fingers find your mouth, push just inside as he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling your hips closer, helping them rock.

His fingers are out of your mouth, cupping your cheek now. Smoothing hair out of your face as it strains. You try not to get loud, slam your eyes closed, purse your lips as your toes curl and stomach tightens… heart flutters.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over your closed eyes before prodding at your lips, “Don’t do that, honey. I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that. Come on, let me hear you.”

“No, I—“

“Don’t be modest,” his tone shifts, going stern and deep, and that’s all it really takes for the noise to flow, “I wanna hear you.”

But he knew that.

It’s a sweet little hum, and then a gasp before it’s clipped by an obscenity— a shaky, desperate, filthy word that dissolves away into a loud groan and then… it’s all downhill from there.

You couldn’t hold it in if you tried. It’s been too long. A pent up aggression, a nervous need all finally working its way out of you. You pull him close— crush your chest against his, wrap two liquid arms around his neck, press your face right against his. Chris loops an arm around your waist, squeezing your opposite hip, pressing his fingers right into the soft skin until it hurts.

But it’s good, the pain of the squeeze. It helps you right over the edge, makes you finally cum after seven hundred and twenty seven days. Slow at first. A warmth just taking its time as it spreads. The feeling sort of foreign because it’s been so long— your brain hasn’t caught up just yet.

When it does catch up, brain and body finding each other, dormant synapses kicking on with a jolt, it’s not just a warmth. It’s molten now, searing and stirring, passing through veins and muscles and skin and bone— it’s that deep. Toes curling so hard they go numb, fingertips digging into his shoulders as you throw your head back.

You’re sure the scientists and military guards can hear you three floors down.

Chris leans in, hot, wet, shiny lips pressing against your chest, over your tits with sloppy kisses, hips still churning into yours until they just can’t. Wet walls closing in, clamping down as they spasm, that molten enveloping him. His hips freeze quick with the first spurt, but find a haphazard rhythm as he comes. Fills you up just like he promised.

He pushes those warm blooms of silk deep with now pointed, long strokes. Not a drop escaping— it’s all for you, after all. Supply and demand and all that.

The mattress is a dream beneath you. Inviting and soft as he lays you into it, still rooted deep as he rolls you onto your side. An arm snakes around your hip, a palm and long fingers anchoring in the center of your chest. A hot, flushed cheek presses against yours as lazy wet lips drag along the back of your neck. Languid thrusts at random intervals keeps you gasping as he tucks his knees and thighs into the backs of yours.

“Say it again,” you whisper after a few quiet minutes, breath still heavy, chest still heaving.

Chris plunges into you again, soft and sweet and deep, “Say what, honey?”

“That you won’t,” the words break off, a moan replacing them as he kisses a trail down your arm, fucks into you once, twice, three times, “That you won’t leave me again.”

“I’m not leaving you again.”

When you wake up the next morning, that little whiteboard with the days scribbled on it is erased. All it says now?

Day one.

#bad things happen bingo #5k...holy god #chris beck #chris beck x reader #chris beck x black!reader #chris beck x you #you x chris beck #reader x chris beck #the martian #chris beck fanfiction

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

You write Moody so well! I would love to see something where Moody and Remus talk for the first time after Coops was outed. Whether it happens after the meeting Coops had with Arthur and Alice or after the all star break. I feel like they have such a good relationship!

Thanks! This was partially inspired by watching The Karate Kid (1984) last night, so I hope y'all are ready for some mentor hurt/ comfort this fine Sunday! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for mentioned forced outing

Remus was almost done. He only had a few more drawers to clean out. The whiteboards were as squeaky and shiny as the day he arrived; the desk had a few more dents and coffee stains decorating the surface, but overall it looked decent. He still couldn’t bring himself to take the pictures off, though. It was his life. His friends. He just couldn’t do it.

The sleeve of his ancient Wisconsin hoodie was still damp when he smudged it under his runny nose. No tears had fallen, but he could feel the maelstrom gathering in his throat. Everything he had worked for, gone because of one stupid mistake.

Not Sirius, of course. Sirius would never be a mistake. It was Remus’ fault they had been caught in the first place.

He stared around his office in misery—no official notice of his layoff had arrived, but he knew it would come, and it was always better to be prepared. Maybe it would hurt less if he did it himself, one final ‘fuck you’ to the homophobes before he trooped off with his tail between his legs.

The tiles were cold through the seat of his comfiest jeans. He tucked his knees closer to his chest.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted the suffocating silence. He didn’t answer.

“Kid?”

Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he croaked out a ‘come in’ with as much strength as he could muster; it wasn’t much. The door opened with a creak—he had never gotten around to having it fixed, after all—and uneven footsteps shuffled in, followed by a sigh as his visitor settled next to him on the floor.

“You have a chair, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“Not all of us have young knees. Doesn’t your ass hurt?”

Remus nodded.

Moody huffed through his nose and hoisted him up by the arm. “Well Christ, kid, up you come. You’re awfully dense for a beanpole. What, you got concrete for bones or something?”

“No,” Remus mumbled as he followed Moody across the hall and allowed himself to be plonked down in the soft chair by the door. It was his favorite of both their offices; as far as he knew, Moody never let anyone else sit there. His chest seized as a sob tried to fight its way out. “I’m sorry.”

Moody shot him a look at he got comfortable in the adjacent seat. “For what?”

“I dunno.”

“I don’t like useless apologies, Lupin.”

Remus sniffled. “I should’ve told you.”

“Says who?” Moody snorted. “Your business is your business. You’re a bright young man, none of this is your f—oh. Okay, Lupin, easy does it.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus blubbered as the tears finally started to fall. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like crying, but I’m kind of a wreck right now.”

Moody made a few soft shushing noises, inching closer until he could wrap an arm around Remus’ shoulders and pat his arm like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The sobs were near-silent; Remus never cried loudly if he could help it, and he already felt bad enough for dripping his perpetual raincloud all over Moody’s office. He caught his breath after a few hitching inhales and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Remus pulled his knees up again and hugged them tight to his chest. “I haven’t called my parents yet.”

“Did they know?”

His heart gave another painful yank. “Nobody knew. Nobody. And—and now it’s everywhere and people won’t leave me alone and I’m gonna get fired—”

“Woah, deep breaths,” Moody interrupted gently, giving him a little shake. “You’re not getting fired.”

“Yes, I am.” Everything felt gross and cold and sad.

“Who told you that?”

“Coach said it might happen ‘cause I’m a doctor.”

Moody scanned his face for a moment, then reached over and grabbed a box of tissues off his desk. “First of all, take some of these. You look like a mud puddle, Lupin. It’s very unsettling. Second, this is a complicated situation and I wouldn’t be too quick to make assumptions. And third, I’ll go to bat for you.”

He paused midway through blowing his nose. “What?”

“You’re a good man. An excellent PT. The best colleague I’ve ever had, actually. You know your shit and if they try to fire you over this, I’m not going to make it easy for them.”

More tears threatened to fall over the edge of his itchy eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Moody grumbled.

“He hasn’t called.”

“Who?”

“Sirius.” Remus swallowed hard and, before he could second guess himself, leaned his head on Moody’s solid shoulder. “I’ve called him 23 times and he hasn’t answered a single one. He just…left. Didn’t even look at me.”

“He’s making a mistake.”

“I ruined his life.”

“Hey.” Moody’s tone turned stern. “You don’t get to talk shit about yourself in my office. This is a Lupin Appreciation Zone.”

Remus’ shoulders shook and he closed his eyes; he wished he could just dissolve into the floor and stay there until someone mopped him up. Everything hurt. The world sucked. Moody—

Moody was petting his hair.

The tears stopped abruptly and Remus hiccupped in pure confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m bad at comfort, kid, gimme a break.” The sat in silence for a few seconds as Moody continued to pat his head and muss his hair, which was in dire need of a cut but just long enough to cover his eyes when it was pushed forward. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually. How did you…?”

Something akin to embarrassment tinted Moody’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. “My cat hates thunderstorms.”

“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks,” Remus said again, much quieter. Moody’s office always felt safe; all the clutter was in its proper place, clean and homey. The touch of familiarity was more of a comfort than he cared to admit. He sat up straight and wiped his face clean, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “If I do get fired—”

“You won’t.”

“If I do, I wanted to say thank you for changing my life.” The words hung in the air. “You—without you, I would never have felt at home here. You were the best mentor I could ever ask for and I’m never going to forget that. You did more than just teaching me routines. Thank you.”

Moody cleared his throat again. “Tissues.”

Remus silently passed the box.

“If anyone gives you shit for being gay, you call me and I’ll take care of it,” Moody said once the tissue had disappeared into the depths of his pocket.

Remis blinked at him. “Are you offering to hurt someone for me?”

“I’ll deny it in court.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he laughed. “Fuckin’ hell, this is a mess. I’m a mess.”

“You just got outed and your boyfriend ditched you in an airport,” Moody said bluntly, fixing Remus with a look. “You’re allowed to be a mess. Now go talk to Lily. Call your mom. Do whatever you do that makes you so sunshiney, and then we’re gonna unpack all your shit and put it back where it belongs.”

Remus swallowed hard. Fuck it. Fuck the NHL, fuck the homophobes, and fuck being sad.

Moody narrowed his eyes. “You want to use the kicking bag, don’t you?”

“I really, really do.”

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

“Stupid—fucking—son of a bitch!” Remus gritted out as the beat-up and half-folded gym mat squeaked under his assault. It was two inches of plastic and therapy—he was 90% sure Moody had stolen it from a middle school gym, and it had rapidly become the team’s favorite way of winding down after a frustrating day.

“Harder!” Moody barked behind him.

Remus wound up and slammed his foot into it again. “I worked too damn hard to be kicked out for this bullshit!”

“Damn right you did!”

The kicking bag creased in the center. “And I’ve got too much student debt to walk out of here like—like a coward!”

“Yes, you do!”

His grief had burnt off at least five minutes prior. Remus was well and truly pissed now. “And it’s nobody’s goddamn business who I kiss!”

“That’s the spirit!” Moody cheered.

“And maybe his face is stupidly pretty!” Remus threw his shoulder against the mat before he resumed kicking it. “And, yeah, he has really nice shoulders and a great ass—”

“Lupin—”

“But fuck him for leaving me in an airport! What kind of douchebag does that to a guy? I’m hot and smart and nice and I can date whoever the hell I want if he doesn’t appreciate that!”

“That’s certainly one approach!”

Remus stopped with a harsh exhale and dropped one last halfhearted kick to the base. “I don’t want anyone else, though. And I miss his stupid pretty face.”

A hand, heavy but gentle, squeezed his shoulder. “Then go get him.”

#remus lupin #alastor moody #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic

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knuffled · 3 years

Text

Just Practice - Chapter 18

it’s finally over. here’s the last chapter. important notes at the end for those that are interested. thank you all so much for your support. it’s been a wild ride, and i’m glad i got to see it through to the end.

ao3 link

It was perhaps the first time that Annabeth had ever felt nervous standing in front of the Jackson residence. She shifted uneasily on her heels and wiped her palms on her jeans before knocking on the front door. Usually, she felt more at home here than anywhere else in the world, but she felt entitled to a little anxiety given the circumstances. Not long after, Sally opened the front door and showed her inside with a smile.

“Hi, honey. It’s been a while, huh?” Sally said.

Annabeth nodded and offered her a small smile. “Yeah. It has. Things have been pretty hectic lately.”

“Percy told me you were in the hospital for a while. Are you alright?” Sally said, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah, I just injured my leg at a meet,” Annabeth said.

“Oh no, what happened?” Sally asked, furrowing her brow.

“I, um, tore my ACL,” Annabeth mumbled. “It’s still recovering, but I can walk on my own now. It’ll be a while before I can start running again, though.”

“I am so sorry to hear that. I would have visited, but I’ve been out all month doing more of those goddamned book tours,” Sally huffed.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Annabeth said. “I appreciate the thought though.”

There was a pause and Annabeth looked around the living room without meaning to. Sally gave her a smile and said, “If you’re looking for Percy, he’s upstairs in his room.”

Annabeth flushed and nodded. “Thanks. I’m gonna head on up then.”

“I’ll be taking Estelle out shopping, and Paul won’t be home until later today,” Sally informed her.

Annabeth blinked, somewhat confused. “Oh, alright. I’ll see you later then.”

“You should have plenty of time to yourselves,” Sally said, giving her a knowing look. “I’m guessing that you’ll need it judging by the sorry state that my son has been in the past few weeks.”

Annabeth’s face turned even redder and she nodded and made her way up to Percy’s room. She paused in front of his bedroom door and screwed her eyes and took a deep breath. Annabeth heard him in the shower, which diffused her nervousness before she stepped inside his room.

Percy’s bedroom hadn’t changed much, if at all, over the years. The room was sparsely decorated - almost nothing adorned the cream colored walls. There was still a full sized bed nestled against one corner of the room, draped with a fluffy blanket he hadn’t bothered to fold. Blue curtains framed a window overlooking the willow tree in his backyard, the one they used to climb when they were kids. On the other end of the room was an office chair, piled high with messy clothes, sitting in front of a well worn cherrywood desk. The desk was littered with stray homework papers, half-empty energy drinks, and a bobble head of some athlete Annabeth didn’t recognize.

Annabeth wandered over and looked at the four photos he had taped to the wall above the desk. One of them was with his mother at the beach in Montauk from back when he was a freshman. Another was one of the entire family at an amusement park. There was one with him and all of their friends sitting in front of a bonfire at Piper’s birthday party that past summer. And the final one was one of him with her, his hand thrown carelessly around her shoulder as she leaned into the crook of his neck, a contented smile on her face. The soft look on his face, like she had just hung the moon for him, brought a lump to her throat.

“Annabeth?”

Annabeth jumped back and turned to see Percy standing in the doorway, towel drying his hair. He was wearing an old swim team shirt from middle school and his penguin pajamas. The familiar scent of his body wash clung to his skin, unmasked by the cologne he usually wore. There was a careful expression on his face, like she had caught him unawares.

“H-Hey,” Annabeth said breathlessly.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting you for another hour,” Percy said cautiously.

“Sorry,” Annabeth said, rocking on her heels. “Should I leave?”

“No, it’s fine,” Percy said quickly. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Annabeth nodded and sat on his bed. Percy rushed over to gather the clothes that had piled on top of the chair and hurriedly stuffed them in his closet. He hung the towel from his open window sill to dry and sat across from her in the office chair.

There was an uncharacteristically nervous look on his face, but it actually comforted Annabeth. She would have felt awkward if she was the only one feeling apprehensive.

“I, um, didn’t see you at school this week,” Annabeth said.

Percy rubbed the back of his neck. “Needed some time off. I haven’t been feeling very good.”

Guilt bubbled in the pit of Annabeth’s stomach. She knew that was her fault, but that he was too nice to tell her that.

She cleared her throat and said, “Sorry to hear that. Are you doing better now?”

Percy breathed a laugh and shrugged. “More or less.”

There was an awkward pause before Percy gestured to her leg. “How’s your knee?”

Annabeth glanced down at it and quickly looked back at him. “Oh, um, it’s fine. I had surgery done a few weeks back and it went well. I’ve started doing physical therapy now, but it’ll still be a while before I can start running again.”

“But you should make a full recovery, right?” Percy asked tentatively.

Annabeth nodded and stared down at her lap, playing with her fingers. “Yeah, the doctors said there shouldn’t be any issues since it was only a partial tear, but we won’t know for sure until I finish therapy.”

“That sounds like good news,” Percy said carefully.

Annabeth mustered a smile and said, “Yeah. About as good as I could hope for anyways.”

There was another brief pause and then Annabeth said, “I, um, also talked to the coach at Berkeley and told him about my injury.”

Percy’s leg bounced up and down. “And what did he say?”

“Well, he wasn’t happy about it,” Annabeth began. “But they’re not rescinding my scholarship.”

Percy made to move out of his seat and give her a hug, a grin splitting across his face, before he thought better of it and sat back down. A crushing sensation formed in the hollow of her chest as his grin waned into a sheepish smile.

“That’s wonderful, Annabeth,” Percy said softly. “I’m sure that’s a huge relief-”

“I’m sorry for how I acted at the hospital,” Annabeth blurted.

The smile slid off Percy’s face, but Annabeth powered through anyways. “You were only trying to help, and I lashed out at you for no good reason. That was awful of me, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for that.”

Percy nodded in a clipped manner and said, “Apology accepted.”

Annabeth was surprised that Percy hadn’t tried to downplay the whole thing by saying it wasn’t a big deal. A lump formed in her throat - her words must have cut deeper than she realized.

“It really hurt, hearing all that, but you had every right to say it,” Percy continued.

Annabeth shook her head and said, “No, I- I was just being cruel.”

He offered her a strained smile and shrugged helplessly. “You were still right though. About all of it. There’s no excuse for me not telling you about Kara, for hiding so much from you.”

Annabeth pursed her lips and resisted the urge to argue with him.

Percy hunched forward in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair violently. “I’ve been thinking about it non-stop, trying to figure out why I did that, but I still don’t really get it. I want to tell you, so badly, but there’s a part of me that just can’t. It’s really fucking frustrating and confusing.”

He paused and exhaled forcefully. “Honestly, the only thing it’s made me realize is how fucked up I am.”

The pain and bitterness in his voice tore up Annabeth inside. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Percy said, shaking his head insistently. “I wish I could just show you somehow. Make you understand-”

“Percy, good person,” she stressed. “Maybe you can’t see it, but I can-”

“Well, you don’t actually know me,” Percy snapped.

Annabeth must have looked as devastated as she felt because Percy’s eyes immediately swelled with guilt and repentance.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he said quietly.

“No, you’re right,” Annabeth admitted shakily. “I don’t really know you. I thought I did, but I was wrong.”

“That’s not your fault,” Percy insisted. “I’m just- it’s fucking impossible for me to ever let anyone actually see me.”

Then who have I been seeing this entire time?

The thought hung heavily in her mind but she forced herself to ignore it. Still, she found it hard not to let despair swallow her whole. She couldn’t help thinking about how Reyna had said that at a certain point, you had to accept that there was really nothing that you could do. She was clearly out of her depth here. Honestly, she stood a snowball’s chance in hell of actually saying something helpful.

She sat there in silence and watched the conflicted look on Percy’s face. His lips were pressed in a thin line and his eyes shone with focused intensity, like he was at a swim meet. If this was only going to cause him so much pain, she never should have told him she wanted to talk. At the same time, she couldn’t help feeling like she needed to do something for him. Whatever he was holding inside was clearly eating at him. She couldn’t just leave it alone and act like it wasn’t her problem. Percy never would have done so if their roles were reversed.

Percy surprised her by punching his leg in frustration and releasing a shuddering exhale before he looked at her and spoke.

“No- No matter what, I can’t help thinking this all points back to Gabe.”

Annabeth furrowed her brow. “Your step-father?”

Percy nodded and said, “I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. It’s weird, but he’s wrapped up in all this. I just know it.”

Annabeth dug her fingernails into her palms. Percy never talked about Gabe, but Annabeth had more than an inkling of what he did - how some days Percy came to school with a sullen look, wincing when he sat down, and gingerly probed parts of his body when he thought nobody was watching; days when he hardly smiled or even said a word to her and she would wordlessly slide him her homework at lunch to copy.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Annabeth said.

Despite what Piper said about needing to press Percy, Annabeth knew there were some wounds that were better left untouched.

Percy balled his hands into fists and shook his head. “No, I have to. Otherwise, I’ll lose you for good.”

Annabeth’s heart squeezed in her chest, so she took his hands in hers and said, “Look Percy, I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you’re uncomfortable with. It’s fine if there are things you can’t talk about. You have nothing to prove to me. No matter what, you’re still my best friend, and you’re never going to lose me. Okay?”

“Really?” Percy asked quietly.

The way his voice sounded, raw and bleeding, made self-loathing fester in the pit of her stomach.

“Yes, really,” Annabeth said tersely. “I’m so sorry that I forced you into a corner like this. I was wrong about what I said at the hospital. I did something terrible to you.”

“Don’t say that, Annabeth,” Percy said tightly. “It’s not your fault. At all. You’ve been nothing but endlessly patient with me. I- I’m just not strong enough.”

Annabeth shook her head. “You’re the strongest person I know, but you don’t have to do this all on your own. There’s probably not a whole lot that I can do to help, but at least I can help share your burden and listen.”

Percy was quiet for a minute before he looked at her with a hard gaze. “Are you sure about this? It’s not a very fun story to listen to.”

“Yes,” Annabeth said immediately.

“If it ever gets to be too much, let me know,” Percy said sternly.

Annabeth took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Don’t worry about me. I’m here for you.”

Percy exhaled forcefully and nodded before staring down at his lap. A minute or two passed before he was ready to speak again, and Annabeth could see conflict and pain swirl in his eyes like whirlpools of emotion.

“He was nice at the start, you know?” Percy said quietly. “He wasn’t all that bad the first few months after they got married. Sometimes he’d get me some candy on his way home from work. Teach me how to throw a baseball. Normal stuff like that. But then, at some point, things changed. Still can’t figure out why. Like, was he just hiding how awful he was the entire time or did something change in him? Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

He paused for a moment and said, “The first time I remember him hitting her, I was eight years old. He was really tearing into me about getting in trouble at school, telling me how much of a fuck up I was, how I was a stupid kid who couldn’t do anything right, and mom defended me.”

“At some point, he got so pissed he chucked a plate at my head and barely missed. It shattered on the wall and gave me this,” Percy said, tugging down his shirt sleeve to reveal the crescent shaped scar on his shoulder.

Annabeth traced the scar with trembling fingers and tried to stomach the nausea and rage she felt brewing inside her.

“Mom went ballistic after that, but that just pissed him off,” Percy said slowly. “Gabe hit her so hard her head hit the wall and started bleeding. You can still see the dent downstairs in the living room. Then, he grabbed me by the hair and forced me to look at her, crumpled on the floor. I can still remember the stink of cheap cigarettes on his breath and him whispering in my ear, ‘This is all your fault, kid.’”

“Christ,” Annabeth whispered.

“Yeah, I know right,” Percy said, smiling wryly. “And that’s just one story - I have hundreds of them. Like, remember how I forgot my field trip form to the zoo in 5th grade?”

When Annabeth nodded, Percy said, “Well, they had to send me home because there weren’t any teachers at school that day. Mom was at work, so Gabe had to pick me up. He was super pissed that I made him miss his poker game, so he was bitching at me the entire ride home. At some point, I snapped and told him to fuck off. Next thing I know, he punches me in the stomach so hard that I puked all over the floor of his Camaro. Of course, that only made him even angrier, so he beat the shit out of me and made me clean up the mess.”

Annabeth tried to keep her voice steady. “Tell me you told somebody.”

Percy smiled humorlessly and said, “And who would I tell? My mom? The woman working three jobs, married to an abusive piece of shit that hits her, with a kid who only ever seems to fuck up at school and embarrass her? No, she had enough on her plate as it was. I couldn’t add more.”

“Then the teachers-”

“Annabeth, you remember how it was for me in school. The teachers hated me,” Percy said bitterly. “To them, I was just a trouble-maker. How could I turn to them? And besides, even if I did, what good would it do? Gabe would just deny it and take it out on me or mom later.”

Percy leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Eventually, I just got used to it. He was smart about it too. Always made sure my mom wasn’t around and that the wounds wouldn’t show anywhere someone might see. And over time, it just become something normal, and I got used to never telling someone about it.”

He paused for a moment and clutched at the fabric of his shirt, over his stomach. “Even telling you right now is like physically painful for me. Like my stomach is in knots and every cell in my body is telling me to run. A part of me keeps whispering, no matter how much I try and ignore it, that I’m not allowed to ask for help, that I- that I deserve this because it’s my fault.”

Annabeth took a sharp inhale and bit her quivering lower lip to keep from crying. She had always known Percy had had a troubled life, but she had never expected that it would be this horrific. He was the best person that she knew and he deserved so much more than this. It was profoundly unfair and tragic and wrong and she didn’t know how to fix it or if it was even possible to fix it.

“None of that was your fault, Percy,” Annabeth said tersely. “He was a sick, twisted piece of shit, and you shouldn’t believe a single word that came out of his mouth.”

“I’ve been telling myself that for the past five years, Annabeth, but there’s some part of me that doesn’t believe it,” Percy said softly. “That fucked up shit he did and said to me is still there, rattling around in my head, and I can’t make it stop.”

He balled his hands into fists. “He sort of beat into me that I was responsible for everything. It was always my fault because I was a bad kid or a fuck up. And he was kind of right too. Mom was having such a hard time back then and I never made things easier for her either, always getting into trouble at school. I tried to be a good kid. I really did. It just wasn’t ever good enough. I just kept letting people down and that hasn’t ever stopped.”

Before Annabeth could interject, he looked at her and said, “You asked me at the hospital why I never told you about Kara. The truth is that I hate myself for being so shitty to her. Like, I drove her into a corner and made her feel so insecure and alone that I forced her into cheating on me. I should’ve been a better boyfriend to her-”

“Percy, what Kara did was her own decision,” Annabeth interrupted. “Maybe you could have done a better job, but you can’t force someone to cheat on you. Kara even admitted that it was her fault and said she wanted to apologize to you for it.”

He stared at her for a few beats and a myriad of conflicted emotions flashed in his eyes before he shrugged noncommittally and turned away. Annabeth ground her teeth together and moved off the bed before she even realized what she was doing. She framed his face with her hands and forced him to look into her eyes.

“Listen to me, you are a good person,” Annabeth said tightly.

Percy averted his gaze. “I’m really not, Annabeth. I’m just trying to make up for the fact that I’m- well, me.”

“And I’m telling that it’s okay not to be perfect! Because that’s the standard you’re holding yourself to! We all hurt and let each other down, Percy. That’s fucking normal!” Annabeth fumed.

“What’s the fucking point if nothing ever changes?” Percy shouted, his voice cracking. “I try and try and try, and I still keep hurting the people I care about, and I’m just- I’m so fucking sick of it, Annabeth.”

“People hurt each other all the time, Percy, sometimes just by existing! You’re looking at a prime fucking example of that,” Annabeth shouted, jabbing a thumb at herself.

“Like, how many times have I hurt you through my own carelessness? And yeah, it breaks my heart sometimes knowing how awful I’ve been to you, but I’m trying to be better because you’re the most important person in the world to me and I don’t want to lose you. And I learned that from you! Because isn’t that what you’ve always done? Tried to be better?” she demanded.

At this, Percy was silent, and Annabeth sat back on the bed, sighing. “That’s what actually matters, Percy: the fact that you’ve never stopped trying. You don’t always have to nail yourself to the cross anytime you fail.”

There was a pause before Percy quietly said, “I- I don’t know how not to.”

“Well, it starts by acknowledging that it’s okay to put yourself first sometimes,” Annabeth said, softening her voice. “Your mom once told me that you would rather put yourself in pain to ease someone else’s suffering, that you feel responsible for how others feel. Like, I know that Gabe was the one that taught you that, but that’s really fucking unhealthy. You need to see a professional therapist or counselor to help you process all the shit he put you through and teach you a better way to handle it.”

“And what if that doesn’t work? What if it’s too late to help me?” Percy asked.

“Then we’ll figure it out when the time comes,” Annabeth said, repeating what he had told her at the hospital.

“I’m not sure I’m worth all that effort,” Percy said tightly.

“Well, I’m your best friend and I think you’re the sweetest, kindest boy there ever was and that you’re worth the whole world,” Annabeth said.

She thought he would argue with her again, but she was surprised when Percy scrunched up his face and looked away from her, blinking back tears. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded with a sniffle. Her heart welled up inside her chest and she felt a sense of fond exasperation rush through her, making her smile to herself.

Oh, you dumb, stupid boy.

“Thank you,” Percy mumbled.

Annabeth shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

It was a while before he looked at her again, and when he did, he looked up at her shyly through his stupidly long eyelashes.

“D-Did you mean what you said in the hospital?” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

Percy’s face turned a gentle shade of vermilion. “Um, about being in love with me?”

Annabeth’s face turned serious. “Yes. I should have chosen a better time, but I meant it. One hundred percent.”

“Oh.”

She couldn’t help the way her lips curled upwards. “That’s all you have to say to me? ‘Oh’?”

Percy’s face turned even redder. “Um, I’ve been dreaming about this moment for like seven years, so you’ll have to forgive me for the fact that my brain is kind of fried right now.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow and tried not to look smug. “Seven years, huh? That is a long time to hold your peace.”

“In my defense, you always hated it when people said anything about us dating, so I tried to kill off that part of myself and fully commit to just being friends,” Percy said.

“I’m sorry about that,” Annabeth said seriously. “I must have hurt you a lot.”

“It was painful,” Percy admitted. “But I was happy enough staying by your side.”

“The whole fake dating thing was super tone deaf then on my part, huh?” Annabeth said quietly.

“I should have refused, but I couldn’t help myself,” Percy said, grimacing. “I wanted to pretend, even if it was just for a little while, that you actually liked me back. It was a pretty bad idea, but I even tried dropping a bunch of hints since I couldn’t tell you how I felt, in the hopes that it might change something, I don’t know.”

“Well, it wasn’t all bad,” Annabeth said. “It got me to realize a whole bunch of things. Without that whole fiasco, I don’t think we’d be where we are right now.”

Percy cleared his throat and said, “And where is that exactly?”

Annabeth sat up straighter and folded her hands on her lap. “Well, for starters, I’d like to start dating you. For real this time.”

“Are you sure?” Percy asked, furrowing his brow. “We’ll have to be long distance once the fall rolls around.”

“I’m sure,” Annabeth said firmly. “Besides, we’ll be in the same state.”

“Would be nice if we were closer instead of on opposite ends,” Percy said, sighing.

Annabeth shrugged and said, “It’s a five hour and forty-two minute drive, so not all bad.”

“And you know that off the top of your head?” Percy asked, grinning.

“I, um, checked on Google maps.”

Percy gave her a smarmy look and raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, so you came here today planning expecting to ask me out, huh?”

Annabeth shoved him and bit back a smile. “I checked back in December, you jerk.”

Percy made a show of wincing and said, “Alright, alright, take it easy.”

There was a pause before Annabeth folded her arms over her chest and said, “You still haven’t properly answered me, by the way.”

“I thought it went without saying that I would say yes,” Percy said, blinking.

Annabeth’s face turned a little pink. “I- I still want to hear you say it.”

Percy ducked his chin for a moment and looked at her shyly. “Yes, I would love to go out with you.”

Her heart beat a little faster in her chest and exhilaration washed through her. “Nice.”

Percy blinked for a moment and nodded sagaciously. “Yes, nice.”

Annabeth shoved him again and ended up tackling him off his chair and fell on the floor with him. He wrapped an arm around her and laughed, and the sound reverberated through his skin and warmed her right through her bones. They lay like that for a while, tangled in each other, while he played with her hair.

Eventually, she looked up at him and cleared her throat. “So what happens next?”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking me?”

“You’re the one with all the dating experience,” Annabeth protested hotly.

Percy tried for a shrug and said, “Beats me. We could go get some celebratory shakes at Martha’s maybe?”

When Annabeth was quiet, he looked down at her and said, “Did you have something else in mind?”

“Well, um, if you were open to it, I would like to kiss you now,” Annabeth mumbled.

A beat passed before Percy bit back an enormous grin. “Sounds agreeable to me.”

“Don’t make me deck you again,” Annabeth warned.

“Alright, you absolute terror.”

“Dullard.”

“Always so mean, Chase.”

“Shut up, Jackson.”

“Are we gonna kiss or what?”

“You’re supposed to be the one leading, dumbass. I’ve never done this before, remember?”

“Okay well, for starters, don’t bash your nose into mine like that.”

“Oh my god, I actually hate you.”

“What you have a problem with the way I’m ‘leading’?”

“Just shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

“Alright, no need to get so testy.”

....

“Okay?”

“U-Um, yeah. Could we, uh, do it again? You know, just for practice?”

“Sure. Just for practice.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Just so you know: it’s too late for take backs.”

“Too late?”

“Yeah, way too late.”

....

“I love you.”

“I know. Now, can we go back to the kissing, please?”

....

“You’re not gonna break my heart, are you, Annabeth Chase?”

“I won’t.”

....

“And I love you too.”

#percabeth fic #percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth fake dating au #fake dating au

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softtransbf · 3 years

Text

Mister Nice Guy, part 2

part one

Summary: Shit hits the fan, and the rest of the BAU is done with it.

Word Count: 3523

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Warnings: case involving targeting gay people, brief mention of a child abduction case, coming out/anxiety of experiencing transphobia (no actual transphobia though), alcohol, swearing

@aleccolocco (sorry it took so long to finish lol)

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

"No, that doesn't make any sense at all, doctor!" you spat his title. "He's not jealous of these couples, killing what he can't have, or a homophobe, punishing gay people for being happy. He's putting an end to their unhappy relationships. He sees it as mercy." Over the months, your cold war with Reid turned into outright conflict, and tonight, alone in the police station in Oregon, was no exception. Hotchner had tasked the two of you with presenting the preliminary profile the next morning, and it was going as well as conversations ever went.

"We have no evidence that he knows they're unhappy, though. All of his victims are clearly happy in their relationships," Reid challenged.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Please. One look at their social media and it's obvious that the relationships are on the rocks."

"Where do you get that? All I see are typical happy relationships. Selfies, checking into special events together, posts about kind things one does for the other. Nothing indicating a troubled relationship to me."

"The gentlemen doth protest too much. They're painting an overly happy painting on social media, hoping that some of that happiness will actually become real. They're desperate for the relationship to work."

"Let's say you're right. I don't think you are, but let's pretend for the sake of trying to see your logic through. Why? Why would they be so desperate to save a failing relationship?"

"God, straight men just don't fucking get it!" You went to grab a file, missing his small flinch. "You don't understand how limited the dating pool for men who are into men is. Look at the most recent couple in particular. The most lovey-dovey on social media, and got the most brutal deaths."

"Yes, because they were the happiest. My theory holds," Reid interrupted.

"No. Look, this guy put way more out there on social media than his partner, and look at the pictures he posted. Look how forced his smile is, look at the body language. He needs this relationship to work, because dating as a gay man is one thing, dating as a gay trans man is almost impossible. Having to start over and deal with transphobia over and over again is worse than being in a bad relationship. In his eyes, I mean." Shit, the first person I come out to on this team cannot be Spencer fucking Reid. He doesn't deserve the honor.

"That was yesterday. We haven't gotten the autopsy report yet. How could you possibly know that he's trans?"

"Testosterone vials and needles in the bathroom. Neither of them are old enough for a cis man to reasonably have issues that require testosterone injections. It's HRT, hormone replacement therapy."

"Even if you're right, your conclusion still seems like a much bigger jump than mine, that the killer sees the relationships as happy and is lashing out at that, be it from jealousy or homophobia."

"Whatever. You'll see tomorrow, when we talk to the M.E., that he was trans, and that fact backs me up. I am absolutely right about this, and you will eat your words. Then I will present my theory, and you can choke on yours."

"We? You anticipate us spending more time together?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I meant 'we' as in the team, asshat. The world doesn't revolve around you. Mine sure as hell doesn't. I'm gonna go back to the hotel, write my own damn preliminary profile, and try to get some fucking sleep. Clearly we won't agree on this."

"We don't ever agree on anything," he pointed out.

"Not true. We agree that we dislike each other and can't get along. Good night, doctor." You turned and walked away, not giving him a chance to respond.

This man is going to be the death of me, he thought as he watched you walk away.

The autopsy report came in the next day, and you were right. The tech team also found a locked notes app on his phone that catalogued his unhappiness and fear of leaving. You presented your preliminary profile to the team. Reid didn't even argue; he just sat in silence, leaving the room as soon as you were finished. Never one to pass up a chance to gloat for beating him, you offered to get coffee for the team, got everyone's order, and left shortly behind him.

You were expecting to catch up to him, his impossibly long legs be damned. You weren't expecting him to be waiting for you. He pulled you into an empty interrogation room and pushed you up against a wall, his face just inches from yours. It was only a moment before being flustered by the closeness and those goddamn eyes were replaced by anger.

"What the FUCK, Reid?"

"What game are you playing, Y/N? What game are we playing? What's your endgame?" He spoke quickly and softly, but there was an intensity in his voice that had you captivated.

"I'm the one playing games?" You pushed him back, away from you. "You're the one who decided to hate me before we even met. When I transferred, all I wanted was to do a good job and fit in with the team. But quite literally from the minute I walked through the door, you'd decided you hate me. Turnabout is just fair play, gorgeous." Oh, fuck.

"Gorgeous?" You walked past him to the other side of the room, running a hand through your hair and turning your back on him. "Fine. Yeah, okay? I wanted approval from the brilliant and handsome Doctor Spencer Reid. In a way that's respectful of your heterosexuality, of course." You turned around and faced him again. "But that doesn't matter, because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me right off the bat."

"What makes you think I'm straight?" He's fucking with me, now that that cat is out of the bag. Great. Fucking cishet men. Even he's no different. Thank god he still thinks I'm cis.

"Garcia mentioned in her newbie-run-down that you're 'awkward, but in a cute way, especially around women'. Plus, she mentioned that Emily is bi, leaving everyone else implied straight as even the best cishet allies are wont to do. And as we both know, Penelope knows everything.

And before you make the hearsay argument I can see forming in that brilliant head of yours, I've heard and seen too much about your impeccable memory to assume you don't remember when we all went to the bar after my first case. I was unabashedly Queer, friendly flirting with Derek and calling out cishet bullshit. When I did the latter, you literally rolled your eyes and walked away. Which is, funnily enough, some cishet bullshit.

JJ said you were just going through a thing and things would get better, but they just got worse. I'm not going to ask you to spill whatever was going on, because it's not my business, but god damn, dude. Why did you hate me so much so quickly?"

"You asked JJ about me?" He took a few steps towards you, a small smile on his face.

"That's the part you focused on? Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, I asked her about why you decided to hate me before we even met. Whatever. I hope you got whatever you were looking for by pulling me in here. I'm done. Done with this conversation, done with whatever has been going on with you and us since the day I transferred." You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm. It was barely more than a light touch, but you let it stop you.

"Y/N. I can't-" he sighed. "God, you make my head spin. I can't organize my thoughts enough to say what I want to. JJ was right, there was something I had to work through, and I guess you'd made up your mind about me before I figured it out. It isn't an excuse for how I treated you, just an explanation. As for the more recent development of arguments… I guess I read a subtext that wasn't there. I could never dislike you, let alone hate you. I am truly sorry for- for all of it." With three long strides, he was out the door.

Make his head spin? What subtext? Since when is he unable to say what's on his mind? And what was that about not disliking me? All we've done since we met is argue or ignore each other. Why else would he act like that? Why do I even care? Why am I so knotted up about what he's thinking and feeling? Whatever. Fuck him, and not in the fun way. I've gotta go get coffee for the team. As you were getting the coffee, you couldn't get the memory of his face, so close to yours, to stop playing in your head.

The rest of the case was mostly as normal, but there was an energy between you and Spencer that was distant like when you joined the team, but there was something else to it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It made you a little bit sad, though, for reasons you didn't understand.

"I love you, Y/N. I love you so much. I pulled away from you because it terrified me how much I loved you from the moment you walked through the door that first day. Being around you, even when we were arguing, made me feel alive in a way I never had before. You're all I think about, you're all I could ever want. I love you."

"I… I love you too." You didn't know which one of you moved, maybe you both did, but in an instant, you were kissing Spencer Reid, and you couldn't have been happier.

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily. You looked around; you were in your room, home alone, and it was 3:37 am. What the hell was that?

Four hours later, you trudged through the door of the BAU office, venti red-eye in hand. You made it about ten steps before Derek had his arm around your shoulders.

"Whoa there, hot stuff. Rough night?" You tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't budge, so you just kept walking, making him go with you towards your desk.

"So not your business, Derek. You being open with your personal life doesn't mean we all have to be open like that with ours."

"Personal life, huh? So who is he? More importantly, how was he, and should we expect more mornings like this in the future?" You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away. You'd reached your desk, so you sat on top of it, facing him. As you did, you made eye contact with Spencer, who was well within earshot. His face was unreadable, and you weren't sure why him hearing Morgan tease you like that upset you. It never had before.

"No, Derek. There's no one. Just some nightmares. Nothing major; I'll be fine by tomorrow." You got off your desk, sat in your chair, and logged into your laptop. Derek whistled and walked away without another word, shaking his head.

You tried to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done, but you couldn't stop thinking about that dream. The feeling of his lips on yours… it felt so real.

This is ridiculous. Love? We don't even like each other. Well… there was the stuff he was saying yesterday- 'I could never dislike you, let alone hate you', and some sort of subtext? But not disliking someone is a far cry from love. Plus, he's straight, so this is all absurd. And even if he DID have feelings for me, I sure as hell don't return them. I mean, maybe he's not as awful as I've thought, especially if he wasn't coming from a place of dislike. And he really is very pretty. Those eyes… Wait, what the fuck? This is all fucking ridiculous. I just need to get a full night's sleep tomorrow, and all this weirdness will be gone.

You took a giant gulp of your coffee, shook your head, and ran your fingers through your hair. Fortunately, Hotchner called a team meeting, forcing your attention to other things.

While no case could ever be described as 'normal', this case was pretty cut and dry, once you figured out what you were looking for. No dramatic twist, no tense showdown at his arrest. There weren't many cases like that, but you were very glad that this one was. You never sleep well when on a case, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake that dream, the butterflies it left in your stomach every time you looked at him, and the strange disappointment when, unlike before that moment in Oregon, he wasn't looking at you.

Two more weeks passed. The energy between you and Spencer, whatever force it was that had drawn you together to argue again and again, was gone. You were polite to each other, and cooperated as necessary, but didn't do more than the bare minimum when it came to interacting with each other. Your interactions were cold and low-spirited. So you were so glad for a fun night out with Penelope, Emily, and JJ.

"So, Y/N, things seem… different… between you and Spencer these days. Did something happen?" Emily's tone made it clear that the three of them had intended to bring this up long before the plan to get drinks was even made. "I appreciate y'all waiting until I had a couple of drinks in me at least before going here. I guess we just got tired of fighting? I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on in that brilliant head of his. I thought I at least knew where I stood with him, even though it was purely adversarial, but I think I was wrong. But then that leaves me with no idea what he thinks of me or why I care so damn much."

"Really? No idea at all?" JJ asked. "I remember walking by a closed door in the police station in Oregon and hearing the word 'gorgeous' being thrown around." "Oh my god. You heard that?" You buried your face in your hands, and they all laughed.

"Yeah, I did, but only that one word. I'd figured you were on the phone with someone, but then you and Spence both started acting sad. I wasn't sure, of course, that you were talking to him until just now."

"Fuck. Okay, yeah. I think he's pretty. But I'm absolutely not alone in that. Derek calls him Pretty Boy, for goodness' sake. Appreciating someone's beauty doesn't have to mean anything more."

"Y/N, really? After everything we've been through together, you're gonna lie to us like this? Whatever happened, you've both been miserable since, and it's throwing the whole team off balance."

"What do you want me to say, Penelope? That I'm in love with him? He's pretentious and a know-it-all and a nerd and funny and kind and gorgeous and oh my God. I think I'm in love with him." The three women clapped and cheered.

"Finally, you get there! Took you long enough." Emily winked. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Keep this shit between us until my feelings go away. Even if he wasn't straight, I wouldn't risk fucking things up by telling him how I felt. As it is, I stand no chance in hell, so I'm just gonna write this one off as another straight guy I've fallen for and try to move on."

"Y/N, if you tell him-" Penelope started.

"No. You, more than anyone, know why I can't even entertain the idea of trying to be with him. I can't set myself up for that kind of pain. Not here, not where things are so good." You looked at all three of them. "I know that your intentions were good, but I just can't do this. I'm sorry." You grabbed your coat and left.

Your interactions with Spencer changed yet again. Now that you knew you loved him, you couldn't help yourself from being warmer towards him. As the weeks passed, you got closer. After three weeks, you considered him to be a good friend, not that that made things any less painful. You were just hoping that Penelope, Emily, and JJ were going to respect your wishes and drop the subject of your feelings for him.

[From: Penelope]: round table room ASAP

Shit. The last time you'd gotten that text from Penelope, the team left on a serial child abduction case 30 minutes later. So, despite it being your day off, you ran out the door and were there with your go bag in 15 minutes.

But no one else was there. No files on the table, nothing to indicate that there was a new case. You pulled out your phone to call Penelope, but then you heard a commotion outside the door- you'd closed it behind you.

"No, Derek, wait, I don't-"

"Can it, Pretty Boy, and thank me later." Derek opened the door, pushed Spencer into the room, winked at you, and shut the door, all in about 3 seconds.

"Spencer. Um, hi. Is the rest of the team not going to join us? Garcia's text seemed pretty urgent." You tucked your phone into your pocket.

"I don't think so, since I just heard Morgan barricade the door." He tried to open the door and failed.

"Oh my god they're Parent Trapping us. I'm gonna kill them."

Spencer tilted his head, confused. "Parent Trapping?"

"Oh my god have you not seen any of the Parent Trap movies? Were you living under a rock in 1998?" "I was seventeen and working on my first doctorate, so pretty much, yeah," he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh, too, as you firmly ignored how his smile made you absolutely melt.

"Fair enough. The '61 one is good too, but the '98 Lindsay Lohan one is Iconic for good reason. Anyway. The point is, they've locked us in here and won't let us out until we have a conversation."

"Just a conversation? Or do they want us to talk about something in particular?" He took a seat at the table.

"I- yeah, they have a particular topic in mind. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I was tipsy and said things I should have just kept to myself. I thought they'd respected my wishes and left well enough alone, but clearly they didn't. And they won't let us out of here until I tell you-" you hesitated.

"Tell me what?" He leaned forward, and part of you swore you saw hope in his beautiful brown eyes. You looked at the floor, avoiding them.

"Tell you that I… have feelings for you. Romantic, cheesy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feelings. I don't know why they want me to tell you this. We've just gotten to a good place as friends, and you're straight, and-"

Somehow you missed the sound of him getting up and taking the few steps over to you, because you practically jumped out of your skin when his hands were suddenly on your shoulders.

"Y/N. Please, darling, look at me?" Bewildered by the endearment, you did, and his smile was blinding. "I'm not straight. I'm bi, and I think part of me has been in love with you since your first day at the BAU. The thing JJ said I was working through? The potential problems of having feelings for a coworker. For you. As soon as you walked through that door", he pointed and then took both your hands in his, "I loved you. The night at the bar? I was rolling my eyes at myself for how much I wanted to kiss you, and I walked away to stop myself from doing something reckless. I love you, Y/N. Can I do something reckless?"

"I'm trans," you blurted. "I hope that doesn't change anything, but it's something you should know. If knowing that I'm trans changes things, now is the time for you to say something. If it's a problem and it blows up later, it might actually kill me. Because I love you, too. So much. If it doesn't change anything, then please, Spencer, kiss me."

The words were barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours. You weren't sure how long you were kissing before you were interrupted by cheers from the other side of the door. "Shit, Spencer, they're going to be the worst about this, aren't they?" You were a bit embarrassed by how breathy your voice was, but you were too happy to really care.

"Oh yeah. We're not going to get a moment that's just us in this building ever again. Do you want to get it over with and face them, or would you prefer we stay in this moment a bit longer?"

"What do you think, doctor?" you asked, pulling him in for another kiss.

#spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #otp: pretty boys

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justcallmenikki7 · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction To: You Getting Shot

Mafia!Au

Summary: you get shot and the boys handle the situation differently than expected.

Request: Anonymous said:

Mafia bts reaction to their s/o accidently or on purpose getting shot?

Warnings: angsttt, mafia!au, mentions of being shot. Taehyung is a dick in this im sorry, mentions of the boys wanting to murder the person who shot you, fluff, yoongi bloodlust,

W.C.: 2-300 for each member (1.7k)

Notes: Friday I am getting my puppy!!!!

Jin:

“Oh fuck.” Seokjin sighed as he watched you play with the guns that he has laid out on the table in the weapon room.

“What?” You laughed, confused on why your boyfriend is acting as if you are about to hurt yourself or someone. “I know what I am doing.”

Seokjin let out a nervous laugh at your words, cautiously walking up to you. The most feared mafia leader in the world is nervous of his own fiancée that is holding a gun for the first time. Not knowing what a certain switch does, you flicked it, and not knowing that the switch turns off the safety, you pulled back the trigger and a loud, ricocheting sound sounded in the room followed by a loud cry of pain coming from you.

Realizing what just has happened, Seokjin let out a loud curse, rushing towards.

“Oh, fuck!” You screeched, holding onto your thigh, trying to not pass out from the blood that is now covering your hands.

“You’re such an idiot, Jagi!” Seokjin scolded, picking you up bridal style, carrying you out of the room in a hurry to the headquarters doctors’ room.

“Did Noona just shoot herself?” Jungkook asked as Seokjin jogged passed him.

“Possibly,” you answered, doing the best as you could to not break down crying.

Yoongi:

Yoongi was already having a bad day. Having to deal with the new rookies he brought in, getting threats from a gang in the east, and having little to none sleep. It was as if he was ticking time bomb ready to explode at any second.

The last thing he needed was getting a call from the hospital, saying that you were a victim of a crossfire shooting.

So, here he was, sitting in the most uncomfortable chair in the room where you were attached to tubes and wires, the agonizingly beat from the heart monitor mocking him. Tears were streaking down his face, face red and expression heartbroken.

“Hyung,” Namjoon spoke out, knocking on the door softly.

Looking up, Yoongi gave him a death glare, not in the mood to deal with anything. “What do you want, Namjoon?” Yoongi growled out, voice croaky.

“The gang from the east, the one who has been making threats… they’re the ones who shot Y/N.”

To say that Namjoon was scared would be an understatement – from all of the years of knowing Yoongi, Namjoon has never seen the look that Yoongi is showing, which is bloodlust.

Hoseok:

“You’re so stupid!” Hoseok growled out at you, an angry look on his face. “You’re so Goddamn stupid! Why would you do that?” He clutched you closer to him, right hand adding pressure to your shoulder where you got shot at.

A laugh escaped your lips, which earned a glare from Hoseok. “What? You’d think I’d let you get shot by a crazy psychopath named Richie?” wincing at the pain that came from your shoulder, the action did not go unnoticed by your husband who then lessen the pressure he has on the wound.

“Yes! I am supposed to be the one who protects you, not the other way around.”

“You’re such a child,” you grumbled, shaking your head disappointedly.

“How am I the child?”

“Because you’re acting like one, Hope. In this relationship, we protect each other, no matter the consequences.”

“You could have gotten killed!”

“Yeah, and? I’d do it again just to make sure you are safe, because I love you dammit.”

Pulling you up closer to him, Hoseok pressed a kiss to your forehead, eyes closed to keep the tears from falling. Pulling away, he rested his chin on the top of your head, keeping you close to him as possible, body crouched over you in a protective manner. “I love you too, idiot.”

Namjoon:

To say Namjoon was not surprised by the phone call that he got from the maknae would be an understatement. Namjoon knew that once you got into the car with Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung to go to the gun range to practice on your aim, he knew something bad would come out of it – and being right all the time can be exhausting.

“What do you mean she shot herself in the leg?” Namjoon sighed into the phone, pinching his nose from irritation.

“I don’t know, Hyung! We only had our backs turned for five seconds, and then we heard a bang! and next thing we know, Noona was crying and there was blood!”

“You allowed Y/N to hold a gun without any supervision?! You know how clumsy she is! She is worse than me, Jungkook!”

“That is factual, Hyung. But this isn’t our fault!”

“How is this not your fault? You were the ones with her! And my stupid ass allowed her to go with you three.”

“Can you please stop yelling? You’re stressing me out and I am the one driving!”

“You’re the one driving?!”

The sound of the call being disconnected told Namjoon everything.

“I’m going to kill all four of them.” Namjoon swore as he grabbed his coat and keys so he can meet you four at the hospital. “They’re so dead.”

Jimin:

You woke up to the sound of your boyfriend moving around the bedroom, failing at trying to be quiet for your sake. Sitting up, groaning at the pain the shot up your lower body, your movements caught your boyfriends’ attention.

“Jagia, why are up?” Jimin asked concern, sitting down beside you on the bed.

“Because I heard you, why are you up at 3:17 a.m.?” You asked, doing a one over on him. Jimin was wearing all black, his gun tucked into his pants and knife tucked into its holster on his calf. It was now silent confirmation that Jimin was going to kill the gunman who shot you at the drug store just a few days ago. “You’re going to kill him…” you trailed off.

“I am, he deserves it. He shot you, he deserves the consequences.” Jimin spoke harshly, the whole incident making him angrier by the second.

“Why can’t you let the cops handle it? they’ve already tracked him down, you don’t need to do anything else.”

Sighing, Jimin ran his hands over his face. Taking your hand into his, he brought your hand up to his face, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “I know you don’t want me too, but I am still going to do it. I do not agree with our justice system, and I believe that they’ll let him walk and he’ll do it again. This will give me a sense of peace and knowing that he is gone will give me some sort of justice.”

Knowing that you cannot do anything else, and Jimin with his mind already set, it is a losing battle for you. Nodding your head reluctantly, you squeezed his hand. “I love you, be safe okay? Don’t be back too late, Jiminie.”

“I love you too, Jagi.”

Taehyung:

Ever since you got shot, your boyfriend Taehyung has been distant from you. His actions have been bringing you more pain than the actual wound you got. Instead of taking care of you, the maids that he has have been the ones taking care of you. What makes you feel even more shitty is that he has not even came to check up on you once, and it has been a week since your accident.

Deciding that enough is enough when he decided to ignore your fifth call of the day, you ignored the protests from the maids and got up. Realizing that they cannot stop you, they decided to help you get dressed into a pair of sweats and a hoodie and shoes. Helping you down the stairs, Jungkook carried you out to the car, listening to your demands about taking you to the headquarters where Taehyung is at. Once you got to the headquarters, Jungkook helped you to your boyfriend’s office, giving you an encouraging smile before you knocked on the double doors. Hearing footsteps come your way; you began to feel nervous about the meeting with your boyfriend. When Taehyung opened the door, he held an irritated look.

“What are you doing out of bed? You shouldn’t be moving, doctors’ orders.” Your boyfriend scolded you, making you feel smaller than him.

“I wanted to see you,” you stated strongly.

“I’m busy right now, have Jungkook take you home.”

“Why are you acting like this?” You asked irritated, feeling hurt by your boyfriends’ words. “You haven’t even seen me this whole time, not once checking up on me. Do you not care?” Your voice shook at the end, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Please, Y/N, go home and stay in bed. It is not good for you to be out and about. I’ll see you when I get home.” And at that, he closed the door, leaving you all alone once again.

Jungkook:

“Jungkook, I don’t need all of these blankets.” You explained to your boyfriend who is wrapping you up in five blankets.

“Yes, you do. Doctor said that you need to be on bed rest for two weeks due to your wound, so I am going to make sure you are comfortable because you will be here for a while.” Jungkook spoke out, ignoring your words.

“I will be just fine in our bed where there is a TV and comfy bed. I don’t want to be on the couch for the next 14 days. I want to be in our bed.”

Looking up at you, bewildered at your statement, he stomped his foot like a child. “Why didn’t you just say that fifteen minutes ago?” He shouted exasperatedly; hands thrown up in the air.

“Well, if you would’ve just listened to me the first time, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“I thought I was being a good boyfriend, but now it looks like I’ve failed once again.”

“Stop being a baby and take me up to our room so we can cuddle before you go and hunt down that man who shot me, okay? Please?”

Not needing to say anymore, Jungkook picked you up bridal style, running down the hall like a mad man, excited at the thought of cuddles.

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ssa-sugar-tits · 4 years

Text

The Biggest Surprise

Request: this one (@zizzlekwum , happy birthday!!)

I was wondering if I could get Prentiss x reader where Prentiss comes back from the dead and the reader is just like "you motherfuckers" to Hotch and JJ and just really pissed and standoffish to everyone because reader is not good with feelings but then at the end of the case Prentiss goes to reader with a little present for reader's birthday and then feelings reveal and fluff ensues?

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Content warnings: strong language, death mention, guns, hostage, grief, depression, unsub s**cide, angst + fluff

a/n: left the present she gets you open-ended so use your imagination ♡

When you lost Emily, your entire world shattered. Not only did you lose a team member, but you lost a friend. A friend you love-- loved. The weight of the casket was nothing compared to the weight of your heart that day. Her river like tears and cherry blood still burn on your skin. It's been 10 months of true hell without seeing the midnight beauty. Without hearing her caramel smooth voice. Without feeling her butterly wing touch. You've actually been preparing, for the first birthday since you met her where you wouldn't make plans with her. So when Hotch and JJ explain how they lied and betrayed you, it's enough to make you want to rip your own hair out.

"Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her, and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to, for her security."

Your emotions are ripped up and thrown to the ground. The team is quick to react.

"She's alive?"

"But we buried her!"

"If I got issues? Yeah I got issues!"

JJ places a hand on your shoulder, trying to ease you with her motherly love but you push her away and screw your eyes shut.

"Y/N..." She tries again.

"No! You lied to me, you... you let me think she was dead." Your voice breaks and hot, angry tears trail down your face until you feel a hand on your arm. Almost swatting it away, you recognize her voice. Her fucking voice. Even better than you remembered.

"Y/N, it's me," she whispers. "It's Emily."

And goddamn, it is.

- two weeks later -

"Y/N, go with Prentiss to interview the mother." Hotch orders. Oh fuck me, you complain to yourself. No matter how much you missed her glorious presence, Emily lied to you. She left you. You were alone. Alone with the miserable memory of your angel. Alone with your thoughts. How could life be worth living without a goddess such as Emily? You'd thought it many, many times. There were days you couldn't get out of your bed, nights you clasped the sheets trying to get the image of her cold, bloody figure out of your brain.

"Yeah, okay." You don't look at her, only walking out to the SUV. Deafening silence fills the vehicle as neither of you speak.

"Y/N, can we--"

"Don't." Cutting her off, you roll your eyes at a notification on your phone. Same fucking thing.

hey, y/n. can we talk when the case is over? will's off tonight, we can go for drinks. you have every right to be angry but please give me this chance.

A pit grows in Emily's stomach and a lump in her throat. She doesn't push the matter further, letting you have your way. You pull up to the victim's mother's home and knock on the door.

"Hello?" Emily squints through the fogged window.

"Mrs. Bennett? It's Agents Prentiss and Y/L/N with the FBI, we have a few questions to ask you."

Crash.

In sync, you and Emily reach for your guns and she kicks down the door with her long, swift leg. You can't help but admire the way her pants cling to her thighs. Y/N, what the fuck? She broke you, stop staring at her fucking legs. Walking into the home, a man fitting the description of your unsub holds the mother at gunpoint. She whimpers and pleads, "P-Please help me agents."

"FBI, drop the gun."

"I'm not going to jail!" The vein in his forehead bulges before he takes the gun to his own head and pulls the trigger. His hostage runs to you, screaming and covered in his crimson blood.

"It's okay, I got you." you escort her out of the home. You don't take a second glance at Emily. You can't control what you might do if you look.

Back at the BAU, you fill out your report mindlessly. Detailing the unsub's final actions and working around admitting the lack of cooperation you displayed.

"Y/L/N, in my office."

Obeying Hotch, you stand and make your way to his office.

"Yes, sir?" Hostility spits at him, telling him you feel utterly wronged. He sighs and you can tell from the creases in his face that he feels guilty but you can't bring yourself to care.

"I made the decision for Emily's own good."

"I understand that, sir."

"If you have a problem, take it up with me. JJ was only following my orders and Prentiss was being kept safe."

Rage boils in your chest and your knuckles could burst from the pressure of your fist. You're interrupted by a knock on the door. JJ stands at the doorway along with Emily.

"I could hear you guys and I thought we could talk, Y/N," JJ says quietly, tucking a blonde tress behind her ear.

"Please?" The brunette adds.

You feel sick.

"Y/N?"

Your insides start turning.

"I'm sorry."

"Y/N."

You're not even sure who's speaking anymore but your name is being repeated and thrown around.

"Y/N?"

Your head spins and you exhale harshly, finally snapping at the people around you.

"Shut up, shut up! Just shut the fuck up all of you! You're all shitty people, you fucking lied to me!" You cry. "You let me think Emily was fucking dead. For 10 months I cried and mourned her to the point where it physically hurt. I was dying too guys. And you motherfuckers can't just decide that after tormenting me inside for almost a year, everything's okay. Fuck you."

They all watch-- and let you-- leave, dumbstruck at the outburst.

Groaning with a massive migraine from breaking down the night before, you awaken to texts from your friends.

penelope:

happy birthday, my amazing best friend!! first of many gifts at your door <3

jj:

happy birthday y/n! lots of kisses from me and the boys 😊

spencer:

happy birthday! interestingly enough, a birthday is considered a renewed chance for new beginnings which is, so to speak, the technical way to say: have a good day (and year!)

derek:

happy birthday, pretty thing. don't have too much fun without me ;)

rossi:

happy birthday kiddo. if you change your mind about a party, one phone call is all it takes. i'll make you a grande birthday dish if you so please 🍝

hotch:

happy birthday, y/l/n. enjoy yourself :)

Drained, you scoff in annoyance at your friends pretending everything's alright. But then it dawns upon you that you didn't receive a message from Emily. And despite the emotional torture she put you through, it hurts that she couldn't be bothered to give you any acknowledgement.

"Happy birthday to me," you grumble and force yourself out of bed. Yawning, you make your way to the kitchen and mix some orange juice and vodka. "What a shame I don't have any candles."

Bringing the straw to your lips, you barely get to take a sip of your pitiful concoction when a knock comes to your door. It shocks you to see Emily's snowy skin and cocoa eyes awaiting. Quickly attempting to fix your hair and sweat drenched t-shirt, you give up and open the door for the woman on the other side.

"Please don't slam the door in my face."

"Do you have a good reason I shouldn't?"

"Well I brought you something."

She lifts the gift to your hands and you gasp in pleasant surprise.

"Oh my god, Em thank you!" Shifting uncomfortably, you remember your pride and go back to your intolerable demeanor but it's too late.

"All it took for you to talk to me was a bribe? Wish I'd known that when I came back from the dead." She laughs. Your voice falls low.

"Emily, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you but you don't understand."

Emily has a feeling it's the other way around. You're the one who doesn't understand.

"What don't I understand Y/N?"

You take a step closer to her and place a hand on her supple cheek, cautiously as if asking permission. Emily closes her eyes lightly allowing you to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"I love you, Emily Prentiss."

She flutters her eyes open and lets out a shaky breath.

"I love you too, Y/N. I mourned you just as much as you mourned me."

Your heart stops and you look her in the eyes.

"Kiss me, Em."

Without a second of hesitation, she connects her lips to yours and kisses you passionately, brushing her tongue on your bottom lip. A salty tear slips into the taste of your flesh tasting one another but neither of you let go yet. Resting your head on her forehead, you smile.

"Since you're here, spend my birthday with me?" you whisper.

"Just try and stop me, Y/L/N." She giggles, plopping down on your couch.

Setting aside all the anguish you've sufferered one thing is certain. Emily and her fucking surprises can take you over any day.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x you #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss fanfiction

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anightflower · 4 years

Text

Come and Find Me

Chapter Two: Paint It Black

Hello Loves! Just to let everyone know, my chapters go from flashbacks to present day! Thank you all for sticking with me and I am sorry this chapter is posted a bit late!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Gore, violence, swearing

Read Chapter One Here

He had spent several hours outside your window, trying to figure out the next phase of his plan. But once the Doctor had arrived and swept you into his arms, he had decided to go home. Not back to his apartment, that was the place he resided. His home was a place nobody could know about.

It was a place for only him and his mentor Drew.

He walked into the kitchen to find Drew cleaning up his knives. “Hey little brother, out with your girl again?” Drew asked with a mischievous smile.

Little brother was Drew’s nickname for the boy, they weren’t blood-related, but being 7 years younger than Drew, he had taken the boy under his wing.

“Yeah, until her stupid fucking doctor came.” the boy replied.

“Don’t worry about the Doctor, your time will come.” Drew reassured. “Come, sit, I just finished up making dinner.”

The boy sat down, pushing aside Drew’s papers so he had space to eat.

“Ah, ah,ah, you’re going to want to look at those. Those papers contain all the fun things you need to know. I’m not teaching you all of this for nothing huh?” Drew smiles, placing the papers back in front of the boy, alongside a bowl of stew.

“Do you really think this will work?” The boy asked, glancing over Drew’s explicitly written notes.

“Don’t worry little brother, this whole thing is trial and error.” Drew reassured. “Don’t be intimidated I’ve had this whole thing planned for a while and she won’t be the first, she can be our finale-” Drew was interrupted by a scream. He rolled his eyes. “Goddamnit, this bitch just never shuts up. I wanted to surprise you with her, but now she spoiled it.”

The boy gave Drew a curious look. Drew chuckled. “Come on little brother I will show you.” Drew led the boy down to their basement. “After she’s gone, I’ll soundproof the basement better. I just needed an idea of how loud these whores will scream.”

The color drained from the boy’s face as his gaze fell on the woman. She was tied to Drew’s metal table, she looked like one of the frogs that the Boy had to set up for dissection for Professor Irving’s class, except she was very much alive, and slightly bloodied.

“Meet trial number one little brother, she looks quite like your girl huh? I think all of em’ should just so you can be prepared for your finale with her.” Drew turned to the Boy. “Surprise.”

“How long has she been missing?” the Boy asked, panicked. How could Drew not warn him? “Relax, like I said she’s trial one. Just a corner whore, no one will even notice she is gone. The next one will be the real challenge, I want to find one exactly like your girl and I already found her, this one we will just pump and dump. Did you get those chemicals from your professor like I asked?”

The Boy nodded “It all in my backpack.” The Boy couldn’t drag his eyes away from the girl on the table. Yes she had your hair and eye color, but she was a hideous thing compared to you. A mere whore could never compare to you. “If she’s a whore I don’t want to touch her. I’ll try the next one.”

Drew huffed. “Fine, you only have to watch this time virgin boy. But next time, I expect you to be hands on. I’m not doing all this work for nothing.”

The Boy’s face was emotionless the whole time he watched Drew, even when the blood spurted, even when the girl looked at him, pleading for help. Even when she stopped breathing and the chemicals he brought were used to melt her flesh.

The Boy felt nothing.

________________________________________________________________

There was an extra flounce to your step as you made your way to your favorite cafe. Maybe it was because you had successfully hired a few new employees to help your company flourish, maybe it was because one of them had already settled a new deal in Ohio, or maybe it was because you knew Spencer was coming back from a case today.

Hell, you had just had a fantastic day and you needed to update Ava and grab your favorite mocha latte to top it off. And maybe it was your 4th coffee of the day, but so what?

Your face lit up even more when you saw Ava. “Hello my darling best friend.” You said causing Ava to grin.

“Hey there babe, what’s got you so preppy today?” Ava asked.

“Well, let’s see; I hired 3 new employees who already are fantastic, one of which already booked us a design job in Ohio. Oh and my superhero hot boyfriend is coming home from a case tonight.” You grinned.

Ava rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe you told him I call him that. I wanted to dissolve into the floor and simultaneously kick your ass.” She laughed. “As for the new employees, are any of them hot? Single? Oh and Ohio is good I guess.”

You giggled. “Well Thomas is incredibly handsome, but I am afraid his soon to be husband might want to have a word with you if you try anything. As for the other two, Aiyla and May, I think you’ll find them stunning and single.”

Ava wiggled her eyebrows. “Don’t tempt me girl, you know I swing both ways. Anyway, grab a seat, I’ll grab your coffee and bring it out to you. I get off early today so we can actually talk to each other rather than me hopping back and forth between the counter. James gets to hold down the fort with Emma and the newbie Jane today.”

“Well, maybe Jane will help him get out of his shell.” You hoped. Ava shrugged.

“Maybe, anyway, Ohio?” Ava questioned.

“Oh! Yes. My new minions are sketching our designs as we speak. The company is called Ohio technological, a very original name yes-” You said as Ava snorted. “But they’re trying to create an office space like Google, however I am going to one up that and add my own spin to it. Also your girl has a fantastic budget from this company and I am being paid bank!” You squealed.

Ava squealed with you, grabbing your hands and squeezing them tight. “(Y/N) that’s fantastic! I am so proud of you girl, you’ve been working so hard on this and I am so glad it’s all working out.”

“There is one downside though.” You said with a sigh. “I have to get my plans to them by next week and once they approve of them, I have to head to Ohio for three weeks. After that I will just have Thomas overlook the project and tie up any loose ends. Either him or I will have to fly down and check in on the progress every couple weeks until then.”

“Could be worse though.” Ava shrugged.

“That’s true, but Spencer and I have been dating for almost 3 months and half the time we can’t see each other. I’m worried that the distance will ruin us.” You confessed.

Ava's face went completely serious and she grabbed your arm gently. “(Y/N, I have never seen a boy more in love with you. You have never seemed happier in your life. You two will make it work I promise. You’re both so in love it makes me sick.” You snorted out a laugh and Ava smirked.

“Like I said, if he has a brother-”

“AVA.” You groaned.

_______________________________________________________________

The boy burst through the door, startling Drew.

“Yo, what the fuck man?” Drew hissed.

“She’s leaving. Fuck, fuck, fuck Drew. She’s leaving.” The Boy slammed the door shut, he leaned against it and slid down, hiding his face in his hands.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey little bro, take a breath, what happened?” Drew came over and pushed the boy’s hands away from his face.

“She’s leaving me Drew. For three weeks! She’s going to Ohio for THREE WEEKS. 21 days, almost a month! I won’t see her and when I do she will probably be with that goddamn doctor! What do I do?” The boy cried.

“That fucking whore, it’s like she knows she’s making you suffer. She’s probably reveling in it. Don’t worry. While she’s gone, we will perfect our craft and get you ready. Then when she comes back you’ll strike.”

Drew reassured the Boy, pulling him in for a hug.The Boy pulled away, dragging an arm across his tearful eyes.

“You promise?”

“I swear it.” Drew growled.

________________________________________________________________

Present Day

“Garcia what did you find?” Reid asked, pleading that it would be a reliable lead.

“Something that you won’t really like Reid.” Garcia said seriously, her usually bouncy personality was flat. “Something about your gift irked me, I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but then I remembered; the Curtis case.”

Spencer’s heart fell into his stomach. The Curtis case had happened a few months after Spencer had started dating you. It had happened right here in Quantico, which terrified Spencer, especially since you fell perfectly under the unsubs victimology; 20-30 year old females with (Y/C/H) and (Y/E/C), successful middle class women who lived alone for one reason or another. You had luckily been out of town for a business trip at the time, working on an office design for a company in Ohio.

Spencer remembered a phone call he had with you one night during the case. He had called you after finding yet another dead victim, raped and torn to pieces, whore scribbled all over their wall in their blood. It had made him sick, because all he could picture was you in their place.

It was late when he called you, but he had just needed to hear your voice and know you were okay. “Hi baby, are you alright?” Your voice was sleepy, but concerned, you had kept up with the news and had heard about the horrible murders going on while you were gone.

“Not really, but I just needed to hear your voice. There’s a sick selfish part of me that is so glad that you aren’t here (Y/N). All of these girls look so much like you-” Spencer paused, you could hear the tears in his voice. “I just am so glad you are safe, I don’t think I could focus as well on this case if I knew you could possibly be in danger.”

“Aw Spencer, I am so sorry baby. You aren’t sick or selfish for wanting me to be safe, everyone focuses on the safety of those they love, it’s only human. I know you are going to catch this guy, you are the most brilliant man and agent I have ever met. Just don’t tell your team I said that, I don’t want a bad reputation before they even meet me.” You teased, trying to lighten his dark mood.

It had worked slightly as you heard him let out a small laugh followed by a sniffle. “Listen Spence, I can stay here a bit longer if it will help you focus, but when I come home I am taking self-defense classes and such. I want you to have a sane mind knowing that your girlfriend actually can handle herself. I honestly think it will help me keep sane too, after hearing everything about this case.”

Spencer paused and thought for a second, part of him wanted you as far away as possible, while the other part just wanted you in his arms. “I appreciate you considering me, but I want the ultimate decision to be made by you Princess, I trust your judgement and I don’t want you living your life based on my fear.”

You breath caught in your throat at the sentiment. “I love you Spencer Reid.”

“I love you more (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” A true smile beamed across his face, you guys had never said that to one another before and it meant just as much over the phone as it would in person.

Spencer flashed back to the present. “Andrew Curtis is in jail right now with three life sentences, how could this have anything to do with his case?”

Garcia cringed a bit, “His calling card.” The words hit Spencer like a ton of bricks, how could he have not seen it before?

The gift box, the red bow, the eyes scratched out of the picture, that was exactly what Curtis had sent to his victims before they were attacked by him. Most of the women had thought it was a prank, a way to scare them into submission, they were incredibly wrong.

“So what could it be, a copycat?” Emily asked.

“That is a possibility, they are using the exact same delivery company Andrew Curtis used, I found this on the security footage.” Garcia pulled up an image of a man wearing a uniform; it was a hideous orange color with the words “Swiftly Delivered” on it, khaki shorts, and white tennis shoes.

“You think the company would have shut down or at least redesigned their hideous uniform after all the association with Curtis.” Emily mumbled.

“Well, I think in this case it’s lucky they didn’t, that way we could easily find the connection.” JJ said.

“How could something like that have gotten cleared by security?” Rossi wondered aloud. “You think someone would have possibly recognized it, the case is still pretty fresh.”

“Well, the box had no threat, no weapons, they must have just scanned it and sent it through. Alyssa was the one who brought it up with the rest of the mail. She said nothing seemed off about it when she brought it up, she just thought it was someone who was sweet on our pretty boy.” Morgan explained.

“Everyone is just so invested in my love life that we miss obvious clues.” Spencer growled frustrated.

“Well, at least we have a lead.” Hotch interrupted. “JJ, Morgan, I need you guys to head over to Swiftly Delivered. Ask them about their past customers and see if they can remember our unsub. Emily, you and Reid head over to (Y/N)’s apartment and see if you can find anything. Rossi and I are going over to talk to Curtis.”

“Hotch, I need to talk to Curtis.” Reid protested. “If he knows anything about (Y/N)-”

“No Reid. You know (Y/N)’s apartment better than anyone. You will notice if anything is wrong.” Hotch explained sternly.

“Hotch-” Reid argued.

“No. I don’t trust Curtis, he seemed too interested during his original case. If he knows something, I can’t have him getting under your skin. Reid’s head fell in defeat. “But-” Reid’s head shot back up. “If you guys finish before us. Meet us at the prison.” Hotch ordered.

Hope filled Reid’s eyes.

TAGLIST

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #come and find me #anightflowerwrites

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

Text

.eps (cut)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: this version of the epilogue is the 'clean cut' - there's a good chunk of it missing but it's not particularly important to the story. if you want to read the EXPLICIT version, there should be another one uploaded at the same time. (sorry, this is scheduled so i don't have the link yet lol)

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

You stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walk into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Placing the body into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale. Off to the woods, where you buried your first love. In a town where not everyone who dies leaves.

The drive to and from the place was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and go straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

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