#and this is the part that can’t get fixed without open heart surgery which she’s trying to avoid which i get bc i also don’t love that

[wantbytaemin]

just had the scariest heart palpitation moment ive possibly ever had

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hi! So I would like to request a Seb x reader one shot if you have the time ☺️ I just got diagnosed with Endometriosis today and am in need of some soft Seb... Could you write smth where Seb finds out that reader is always in pain during sex and never said anything, though he knows she has Endometriosis and usually cares for her during her period... and he then encourages her to get surgery to try and fix it? Only if it's okay though, I know it's very precise, sorry!

A/N; I am so sorry to hear about this hun, i hope there’s something that can be done, no one deserves to go through that kind of pain. I researched endometriosis and it certainly sounds horrible, I’m sending you all my love and support 💙

Endometriosis - Sebastian Stan x reader

Masterlist Link

Summary; based on the request, I changed it a tiny bit so I hope that’s okay, I just feel like if r was in pain seb would notice, I hope you like it hun 🤍

Warnings; endometriosis, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69ing, mentions of sex toys, illness, mention of alcohol, fluff, pain, swearing

divider by @firefly-graphics

It hurt like a bitch, there was no way to put it, or at least it was a simpler revelation of description at the prying of your womb had you near to tears. You laid your head down into the pillow, mushing it into the fabric, as you wanted the pain to dwindle down into nothing, and thus you tried to ignore your own suffering, as you turned over to be on your back, severely wincing by the change in position. A groan came from the other side of the bed, as the man that was laid there began to shuffle, in the midst of waking up.

“Morning.” He spoke with a hoarse voice, the steadiness obliterated by his blatant hangover that was haunting his form. Sebastian rubbed a hand over his eyes as he fully awoke, stretching his back as he reached his arm out, swiftly hooking it around the back of your neck as you allowed yourself to lay on the muscle. “Guess neither of us got laid, did we?” He laughed lightly, shaking his head, as he tipped his chin up, blinking his baby blues up to the ceiling.

“Considering that we’re in the same bed, and that you’re not a stranger to me, I guess not.” You laughed to your close friend, whom was aware of your condition, but not the extent of it. “Looks like you’re going to suffer from no morning sex Stan, I’m sure that sucks for you.”

“Usually it’s someone else doing the sucking.” You smacked his arm at his off handed comment, pulling a smirk out from the man as he turned to face you, pulling you closer by the contact that he had upon you. “I’m guessing your disappointed that you’re not waking up to some muscular, blonde haired and blue eyes patriotic punk.”

“If you’re describing Evans, i swear that I will punch you in the dick, I said he was attractive once.” You put emphasis on the amount of time(s) you had ever mentioned it. A pout quivered his lips, as he shuffled beneath the covers, angling his hips in a more comfortable position so that they weren’t being crunched down on the mattress.

“You can punch my dick, on the agreement that you kiss it better.” Seb allowed a hollow smirk to mull over his handsome features, as you swatted his bicep once more, an unhumored frown conforming its position upon your face.

“I’m not one of your hook ups, I’m not gonna get on my knees for you buddy.” You bantered back, raising a brow at his inquisition. No, you were not a past sexual partner of his; it was a constant of him never having a serious relationship, he opted for flings rather than any long engagements, you suspected that he had feelings for someone else, but you were not sure of whom.

The thought alone of him being endeared with the image of one woman brought a pain to your body, separate from your medical suffering. Though your opinion wasn’t fair, considering that you as well, or had your time of sleeping around before the pain in your inner walls became too much, and that was one of the many things that you had given up, more or less.

To support the montage of your body’s self torture, you had a mixture of hormone and tablets that helped reduce the unexplainable sensation that willed around in your lower half, swarming around like an internal snake bite in your own body.

“69 then?” He joked, but it felt so serious. You knew he wasn’t being truthful, it was the relationship the pair of you had, though his face had moved closer, his breath fanning over your face, making your heart prominently race as you thought about such a scenario. “Having mentioned Evans...” he began to change the conversation, having felt the heat that had radiated from your body.

“Go on.” You pried at him, interested in hearing what his friend had opted to say about the pair of you. It wasn't every day that you heard celebrities gossiping about you.

“He thinks we’ve hooked up.” Sebastian stated, making your neck reel slightly back as you took in the fact, of well, the perceived view point of a world renowned, household name, actor. A part of you was slightly embarrassed, you held your own cheek as the words that Chris had passed on sunk in on you.

“We, no, never. Okay, I’m exaggerating, that would not be so bad, but it would definitely be weird. But like, why does he think that, of all things?” You asked whilst partially laughing. It made you partially aware of yourself, and the prospect of you possibly having made your feelings obvious, but that however hadn’t been the case as Seb scratched over the stubble that he had on his chin, and did that awkward Bucky smile that had became humorous in his new marvel show.

“Of all things; it’s like you’re trying to break my heart babes.” With one diverging look from you, he knew he was done for. It always pained him to keep secrets from you, and this was the one that he had been hiding for so long. “You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you? Okay, fine. I still can’t believe that you haven’t caught on, after all this time, but this just shows that you haven’t noticed how I try and scare away every guy with my money and power.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” Lightly you scoffed, having many memories of such a situation. It was a pattern that kept repeating itself, but to you it had just become normal, and to say you were fine with it was not incorrect. It gave you hope that he could reciprocate the emotions that you held towards him, though having a wish like that was altogether hopeless. He was just protective, that was all, he probably saw you like a little sister, or something of the sort, that really put a drab annotation on the prospect of romance.

“Ever wonder why?” Ever, more like all the time, but you allowed him to continue without disruption, by doing so more would be unveiled by that mouth of his, and you were eager to learn more, yet a little hesitant. “It is because I am so tired of being your friend, I love it, don’t get me wrong but...” you were dreading what was to come out of his mouth next, you squeezed your eyes shut, almost as if you were unable to see, the pain would not render upon your specimen. “I love you.”

“You what?!” Eyes snapping open, you were blatantly shocked by his confession. “That can’t be right Seb, you’re you, and I’m me, and-“

“We’re us.” He finished for you. As he noticed you relax from his contingence, which allowed him the time gap to slide closer, his warm and soft hand running up the side of your face as he watched you gasp from the sensation. It was not the first time he had touched your cheek, but it was the first instance in which he done so intimately; you were rather fond of the treatment.

You nuzzled your face into the curve of his hand, your brows lightly directed in a downwards motion as you lulled in his touch, and that was when you realised that he had frozen. “Shit.” You stopped him from moving away, pausing the sadness in his eyes for the current second. “I should have responded, that was my bad. I love you too, I’m not just saying that, so you know.”

“That’s a relief.” Sebastian sighed, falling back onto the mattress, bringing his face accidentally closer to your own. The tips of your noses were touching as your eyes ogled deep within the pools of one another’s, it was impossible not to seek a closer vicinity, and thus, you slunk closer, bracing the tips of your nails against his scruff, as your lips worked their way onto his.

“How would you like another kind of relief?” You pulled away, stroking down the smooth course of his shirt covered chest, prompting a suggestive dialogue in your tone. His brow raised as he thought about it for a moment, but then he remembered a rather distinctive matter he didn’t want to cause any obstruction to.

“What about your, you know?” He was referring to your endometriosis, having the knowledge about the unfortunate illness that interfered with your life. Through it all, the doctors appointments, the encouraging you to take your medication on days that you weren’t feeling particularly well, he was there. Now it made sense why.

To reply, you softly shook your head, combing your hands over his shoulders, as you answered him. “If it gets too much, I’ll give you the signal.” You spoke, leaning down to peck his lips, though you still saw the reluctance that was embedded on his forehead in the form of strict lines. “I promise.” You persuaded him, meaning the sentiment, as his eyes trailed down, his hand scourging a fierce, passionate grip upon your hipbone as his tongue weaved its way back into your mouth.

You moaned into the atmosphere of his mouth, grabbing onto his cheeks as you heaved breaths into the internal beyond of this man, rolling on top of him, as you swept your crotch down against his own, extracting a sinister sound out of his guttural throat. It was only turning you on more, and you knew that if you didn’t do something, even despite the recommendations of your doctor, you would be sufficed with a lack of pleasure, and that was all you currently craved.

It wasn’t fair how you had been dubbed with the condition. So many people in the world could have sex whenever they pleased, yet you were forced to commend under the sentence of experiencing a discomfort when all you wanted was the comfort of being intwined with another human being. That connection, it felt mandatory, however you were denied it, for every time that you proceeded to bed a stranger, or a partner of any sorts, the stretch of anything in your walls pursued you with a fracture of pain.

You’d even had to throw out your vibrator, whilst it felt good on the outside, the clenching of your empty walls sparked physical and mental hurt, and reminded you of the fact that whenever you were filled by any length, your body could not function to emit pleasure, instead it was the opposite that you were tasked with contracting. The thought and reminder often spewed tears in your eyes, but you held them back as you got lost in Sebastian.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He admitted sentimentally, and your heart both became full and broken. It was sweet and scorching to the arousal between your legs to know that he was that concerned about your well being; he wasn’t just prioritising getting his dick wet. He resumed pressing succulent kisses on your lips, he lulled in the notion, he too wanted to be close to you, but he wasn’t willing to do inadvertently so to the expense of you being in pain.

That was the opposite of what he wanted, even as your hand wandered down his firm and pheromone driven body, that bucked in your grip, as your hand hooked around his bulge, your thumb stroking over his round sack as he grew beneath the layers of his soft sweats and underwear. “69 then?” You reiterated his earlier words, causing his pupils to blow wide, and his blue irises to darken into the juxtaposition of stormy skies.

“Will that be okay?” You confirmed it was, even if you weren’t completely sure yourself. The angles, the penetration, it was all elements, that combined gave you an equation that you had yet to figure out. The only way to do so was to try it, even if it concluded in an error, and not a sensible answer. To instigate the next step, you roused your sleep shirt from your body, leaving you in nothing more than your causal panties, but Seb didn’t seem to mind.

In fact he rather preferred the normalcy of your actions and undress, it made the strategy of shifting from friends to intimate lovers into one of relaxation, there was no absurdity nor discomfort yet, for either one of you. Your fingers dipped in the sides of your underwear, teasing the band, as you cocked your head towards Seb, licking your lips as you took in the view of him entranced by your being. “Am I going to be the one naked or...”

You were grateful that he took the hint, and stripped himself from both layers that kept his goods confined. He rapidly removed them, leaving his uncut cock open to your gaze; it wasn’t anything massive which was a relief, but it for now, it was to be attained in the confinement of your mouth, rather than the realm of your cunt, so that slight stretch could await. As you thought of that, you reached your hand out, dancing your fingers lightly over his shaft.

Seb emitted a soft huff from his obtainable lips, he dragged you to be laying atop of him, as your thighs surrounded his length on either side, it was warm, and rested perfectly below your where your cunt was hovering. How you wished to just sink down on it and- “Turn around.” For a moment you took time to refrain your memory to perceive what you had said before. And then, whence your words caught up to you, it was simple to do so, especially with the motivation of what was going to happen.

As you spun around, to be facing his lower half and have your own above his mouth, you watched his cock twitch, as it rested heavily upon his abdomen. You could feel your nerves kick in; it was a substantial difference from anything that you had ever done together, from looking at the stars and watching cheesy movies, to sexual actions, it was quite the leap. But a welcome one, you had waited so long to acknowledge your feelings to him, you'd be damned if you were not going to act on them.

A shiver rippled up your spine as he paved a lick through your slit, it made you tense up for a moment, and you try to register any diagnosis of pain, you coiled when he put one of your lips in his mouth. It felt good, which was a relief, and you took that as a sign to reap your front forwards, and focus on his throbbing hardness that was oozing precum against his perfect skin. The drop of essence looked like liquid moonstone, catching the ambience of the snooping sun that eyes through the crescent opening of the closed curtains, creating a luminescent light against the contrast of his skin.

Leaning forwards, as the initial shock of Seb using his tongue on you had settled in, as a faint plea from inside of you derived away in your eternal being, your tongue glided over the patch of fallen precum, your eyes fluttering at the heavenly, yet rare taste, it wasn’t every day that a man’s cum was relatively nice on your buds. Some perceived eating junk food as a lifestyle, caring not for how the receiver of their sperm would taste within the mouth of a giver on the other end. Sebastian hummed against your slick folds, as he danced his hands around your ass, grasping your cheeks firmly.

His fingers swept through the outside of your cunt, fooling around with your labia as his tongue swirled your bud, making your face grimace on the edge of pleasure, as your warm lips wrapped around the head of his cock, whirling your tongue within his slit, as your hand rested around the rest of his length, jerking it in your grasp, as his hips lightly heaved upwards against your face. He teased a finger around your entrance, running the tip along the wet flesh that mimicked your breaths as it clenched prosperously.

“Shit!” Tears webbed in your eyes as he entered the finger, though he considered that a resonating profanity of pleasure. To your dismay, it indeed was not though, the entry of the digit weighed heavy inside you, prying sorely against your walls as your giving to him paused, as you harshly gripped his thigh. “Shit, that hurts Seb. Fuck!” In an instant, he stopped, extracting his finger out from within you, as it caused you further pain, and helped you turn around, and lay languidly upon the bed.

“Oh my god, fuck, I’m so sorry y/n/n.” He panicked, immense guilt wavering his body, as he grasped your face, staring with sorrow into your seasoned expression. “I didn’t mean to- didn’t want to hurt you, shit, I should never have tried to-“ soothing his conflicting emotions, you stroked his shoulders, kissing him to ease his words into silence. He felt guilty, but so did you, you were the one whom had encouraged to pursue the rhythm of your shared sexuality to one another, deducting the poise of your actions with tear beaded eyes.

“It was my fault; I said it would be fine. I should have known it shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.” You reasoned with him, knowing that you had told him that it was to be something that you could manage, but from experience, you should have had better knowledge of how things would turn out.

“Don’t you ever apologise, you’re perfect, the only thing that I want to ease is your suffering. Is there any news on the operation that can be done, should I get you your medication now?” He wanted to be certain, to ensure that you didn’t put the accountability of your situation completely on yourself, he should have asked if a finger would have been fine, he shouldn’t have been swayed by your persuasion. “I could talk to someone, see if I could get the thing moved up, I can pay for it, get you further up on the ladder.”

“No.” You smiled, pressing an ample kiss upon his scruffy cheek. “I don’t want that, many other people are waiting for the op too, and I can’t have you paying for it. That would just be inconsiderate of me, you have already done so much for me, I can’t ask more. You’ve been there through everything, just wait with me whilst I wait for myself.” You pulled the sheets over your breasts, staring opulently into his serene eyes, shuddering as he swept his lips over your mouth once more, deriving you breathless for a moment.

“It’s okay to be selfish, if any of them had that chance, then they would take it. I can afford it, and I would want nothing more than to pay for it, it’s not just about sex, you know that. I love you so so much, you’re my best friend, the girl of my dreams, I’ve waited for you, I just want the pain that you live through to disappear. Out of all people, it’s not fair that it’s you, but it is, and this is the one way to fix the reductive searing of hurt that you live through.” You gulped, water glazing your irises as you stared at her, trying to diffuse your light sob.

His words brought acceptance to you within the scenario, as you took a deep breath in, confronting the trigger that had set off inside of you. It was difficult to handle and attain to, as you curled in his bare arms, exasperating your soundness close to him, as he competently cupped your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Okay.” You agreed, nodding sincerely along with your words. “Okay, I’ll do it for me. It’s the right thing to do.” A smile raved his face, as you convinced yourself of doing so. It was to be a long road, but Sebastian would be there holding your hand, travelling down this path alongside you.

[its-kall-the-clown]

14 Fluff for Red Son realizing he's nursing a crush on MK

As some context this is post redemption for the demon bull family. So Mei, MK, and Red hang out a lot together now. Red Son is also an idiot. XD

Also this isn’t my most polished work so sorry if it feels rushed.

prompt list

Stop that!! (Don't stop)

Rating: PG-13 for implied sexual interactions

"I think I'm sick"

Red Son admits to the ceiling of Mei's room. They were hanging out like they normally did on days MK was training with monkey king. She was playing some sort of retro video game and he was watching till he got bored and lay on her bed thinking.

"You got a tummy ache?" Mei teased, pausing her game and he huffs rolling his eyes, and sits up.

"Don't be ridiculous" he huffs out and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Okayyyy so what're the symptoms." Mei crawls from her spot on the floor and joins him in bed, sitting crisscrossed with her hand in her lap, and leaning forward eagerly.

"It's hard to explain… sometimes when MK is gone my chest hurts " he places a hand over his heart that was beating normally at the moment.

"And sometimes, when he's around, my hands get sweaty and it feels like I'm gonna throw up and…." He watches a wide unlearning Cheshire grin grow across his friend's face. He continues on, albeit, a bit more hesitantly.

"And….sometimes I can't talk right, and sometimes when he IS around my chest hurts also?" Mei was grinning so wide she was more teeth than she was girl.

"Why are you smiling…."

"OMFG!!?? You have a crush on Mk?!!!" She squeaks excitedly and rolls around in her back as she descends into what Red can only describe as absolute madness.

"What are you talking about??!" He sputters, Mei giggles a bit longer before finally pulling together and greeting him with a wide grin.

"Dude. Your like SO gay for him. 'My HeARt hUrTs WhEn hE’s not arOuNdddd~ " she mocks him in a fake tone and he growls hitting her with a pillow..

"Stop that!" He growls.

"SToP ThAt~" she mocks back and they devolve into a pillow fight on her bed. He girns when he hits her smug face squarely with a dragon stuffie.

Soon they lay panting on her bed and the dragon girl rolls onto her stomach poking him in the face.

"So. Crushing in MK huh?"

He grows beat red again and pulls a pillow into his face and groans.

"You should tell him."

Red son sits up with a smile.

"I should!"

"Yes!!"

"So I can tell him to stop making me sick!"

"Say what now?"

He turns to Mei with a feral smile. This 'crush' or whatever she called it could be fixed. If MK was the one giving it to him. He just needed MK to stop doing...whatever he was doing to make him feel like this.

"Hold on I think you are conf-"

"Thanks Mei!" He gets up and is off to confront the noodle boy as he hears Mei shout at him from her room.

"You're a fucking idiot!!!"

-----------

He storms forward like a typhoon. Red son is a force of nature that can not be stopped, nothing could yield him in his goal or hinder him in his path. Wild horses pulling chariots could not stop him, celestials in heaven would not dare stand in his way, and even his parents (by far the scariest force of all) could not persuade him to rethink what he was doing.

He pushes past the doors to Pigsy's noodles, shoves past patrons and ignores the warning shouts from the pigman.

he had one goal on mind

"Nyyyooodle boy!!!!!!" He bellows grabbing the attention to his problem. Those perfect expression color eyes meet him and the disease in his chest grows. He's in his training clothes, clearly on his way up to his apartment over the shop so he can shower.

Why did the idea of MK showering make his heartbeat erratically? Soft shoulders and cascading water off them…

She shakes his head back and forth now back on track.

"Stop. That." He growls out grinding his teeth together as steam leaves his ears. MK tilts his head slightly. The disease grows more in his chest and he hates it.

"Stop that!!!!" He points directly at MK feeling his hair sputter and spark as his temperature rises. He thinks his face is growing red.

"I'm….not doing anything?" MK gives him a sheepish smile, the kind that quirks up on one side and absolutely obliterates Red Son on the spot.

Like a crunchy fall leaf under the heel of a boot he's crushed.

Whatever motivation he had before it evaporates quicker than a drop of water in the Sahara desert.

"Y-your haven't heard the last of me!!" He makes a quick retreat, stumbling over his own feet and taking out one of Pigsy's tables in the process.

He exits the shop faster than he entered. He needed to regroup and strategize.

-----------

"SoooOOOOOo How'd it go?" Mei asked her eyes not leaving the screen, she's playing a different video game now, and she didn't even spare him a glance when he came back as if she predicted he would fail.

"Horrible!!! All it did was make this sickness worse." He throws his arms up and paces back and forth biting his lip. Mei doesn't pause her game this time, only continuing to mash buttons as he grumbles under his breath.

She lets out A long-suffering sigh and finally pauses her game.

"Dude. I know you're behind on the lingo and stuff but a 'crush' isn't a sickness. It means you like MK. As in you want to kiss him and stuff." she explains with a shrug unpausing her game and the sound of power-ups and pixelated men punching each other continues.

Red Son halts in his tracks

He pictures kissing MK. pressing his lips to the boy's soft adorable lips. He can practically feel the warmth it would produce. He pictures MK smiling into the kiss as they awkwardly bump noses. He pictures holding MK’s hand, squeezing it gently as they walk hand and hand. He imagines the feeling of MK’s hair between his fingers as he runs his hands through it.

He sucks in a gasp, his heart beating out of time.

Of fuck.

“I’m so screwed…..”

He feels Mei patting his shoulder, she paused her game again when he was fantasizing

“Yeah, you are. But at least now you can DO something about it.” she nudges his side and he blushes a bright red and he can hear her chuckling at him

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

“Can we talk?”

MK blinks back at him looking back and forth for a moment as if he was confused by his precence. Which to be fair he DID just enter through MK’s window while he was showering and was now waiting for him on his bed.

“Uhhhhh sure?” they rub the last remaining moisture from his hair with a towel before tossing it to the floor to be added to piles of laundry they had yet to do. Red Son didn't even curl his lip up at the slob-like behavior because HOLY SHIT MK IS SHIRTLESS!!!

Of course, MK didn't even seem to care that he was only wearing grey sweatpants in his presence. Red Son guilty looked MK’s chest up and down while they searched for a sleep shirt. Working out with Monkey King has been paying off because MK was sporting some muscle. He also had a few scars from battles that only added to how attractive he was, and of course, there were the two faint top surgery scars under his pecks.

“Is this about your weird episode in the shop today?” they asked pulling him from his guilt ogling and MK pulled a shirt over his body. Damn what a shame.

“Mei says I have something called a ‘crush’ and I should ‘tell them how I feel’ in order to make the pain in my chest go away,” he explained using quotation marks with his fingers to punctuate himself. MK’s eyes widen slightly and then it's schooled quickly. They join Red Son on the bed.

“O-oh? Have you told them?” MK squirms in place and keeps his gaze cast down. He looks uncomfortable, no. he looks upset? Why would MK be upset? Was it because he broke into his room again without permission?

No not that. Although he will have to apologize later

“I’m working on that part,” he explains scooting closer to MK and he grabs one of their hands gently. This felt stupid, and he thinks his sickness will kill him with how quickly his heart is beating. He was terrified and all his symptoms were amplified by ten.

He looks into MK’s espresso-colored eyes looking for something. He loved those eyes. They showed so much in them and he SWORE they could change the whole lighting of a room.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water with his false starts. Eventually, he clears his throat and releases his confession.

“Umm well...MK. I h-have a crush on you.”

he shuts his eyes and waits for the rejection, waits to hear MK laugh with their head back and shove him away.

None of that comes.

He peaks an eye open to find MK’s face a bright scarlet red. Was that a good sign? Or was MK so angry at him that he was just building up anger inside of him like a volcano ready to blow.

“ I w-will leave now.” he pulls away ready to retreat with at least his dignity still in tack. He's pulled back violently and soft lips are smashed to his. He lets out a surprised whimper and absolutely melts into the feeling. His brain is electrified and static all at once.

He kisses back hungrily grabbing MK by the waist and pulls him closer. When they are running out of air only does MK pull away with a little breathless gasp.

“Stay the night?” They requested, placing a soft kiss to the juncture of his neck and he can’t find a single cell in his body that would possibly say no. He nods numbly and MK kisses him again a smile on his lips that he could taste.

----------

“MK GET UP! YOU ARE LATE AGAIN!!”

Pigsy burst down the door jolting the demon awake from his peaceful slumber, his arms that were previously wrapped around MK pull away quickly in the process. He thinks he could stick to the ceiling with his claws like a cat in a cartoon if he jolted just a little higher.

The covers are yanked off them both before Red Son even has time to protest. Thank gods they both put underwear back on when they finished satisfying each other. Red Son is completely and thoroughly exposed to MK’s boss, bitemarks, and hickes across his chest snitching on him.

Red Son and Pigsy meet eyes and he feels a sweat break out across his neck. Pigsy sighs and pinches his snout. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out through his nose.

“I don't know what happened here... And I don't WANT to know. Tell MK he’s got ten minutes to get downstairs.” Pigsy turns on his heel and leaves slamming the door behind him. Red Son looks over to his now-boyfriend who’s mouth hangs open with drool dripping down his face.

MK slept through all of it.

He can’t help but chuckle and kiss their forehead gently.

[fairlyspnfanfic]

The Ties That Bind Us - Part Six

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail?  Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old.  The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do.  But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests.  I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2167

Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room, tears, anesthesia

PART ONE  PART TWO  PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE

Dean stood alone in the washroom; the mortar full of ingredients sitting scorched on the floor.  He swept his hands through his hair and walked over to the sink, quickly grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser and beginning to work on cleaning up the paint from the trap on the floor. It took mere moments, but it felt like an eternity.  While he was tossing the remnants of his spell into the trash bin, a loud insistent knock was again rapping at the door.  

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Keep your shirt on.”

“Dean!” Sam was yelling outside the door, continuing to pound on the cheap, grey wood.  

Shit, Dean thought to himself as he rushed to finish the rest of his cleanup. Once the last of the traces of his work had been disposed of, he yanked the door open and breezed past his brother wordlessly.  

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam’s indignant voice trailed behind him.  “What did you do?”  

The accusation in his words was not unfounded, but still, it left Dean enraged. “What are you talking about, Sam?”  Dean’s voice was sharp and dismissive as he spat the words at him, his face scrunched up into a defensive glare.  

The youngest Winchester caught up with him within a few strides as he reached out and grabbed Dean’s shoulder, forcing Dean to turn around and face him.  

“Don’t do that,” Sam pleaded.  “Just don’t.”  

“What, a guy can’t take a dump?”  

Sam glared at his brother, leaving the silence between them thick and expectant.  

“Come on Sam, we have to get back in there. Y/N’s depending on us.”  

Sam nodded his head, disappointment evident in his stance, as they both walked back towards the waiting room.  

Immediately, Dean began pacing between the aisles of seats, his long legs bowing out as he did so.  He was listless and his hands alternated between running through his hair and yanking on his own neck in a vain attempt to relax the beyond strained muscles.  

The doors to the surgical hallway flew open and the same doctor that had spoken with them before came rushing towards them, her eyes bulged out in surprise as she locked onto the boys.  

“Doc,” Dean’s voice was full of anguish as he strode up to her, meeting her just outside the rows of seats.  He remained silent, waiting for the update she undoubtedly was there to give him.  

"Tell me she’s alright,” Sam whispered, walking up next to Dean.  The doctor remained silent.  Dean let out a sigh, lowering his head over his crossed arms.  He was all stress, panic and anxiety in human form.

The doctor opened her mouth to start speaking but came up empty as her mouth closed again.  After several false starts without explanation, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  

“We’re going to need some sort of words here, doc.”  Dean’s jovial voice was hiding his tension and impatience, but he remained unsatisfied as the woman continued her silence.  

“She’s not,” Dean began, unwilling to finish the sentence.  “No,” he stuttered. “No, she can’t be.  She’s not gone.  Tell me she’s not gone.”  

Sam laid a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder and stepped in front of him. “Dean, it’s okay.”  He sniffed, unable to control the tears forming in his eyes as they began to fall.  

“No,” Dean began muttering to himself, his eyes wide and fixated on the floor. “No, she said...she was supposed to fix it.  We had a deal.”  His words strung together haphazardly.  Dean could hear his own heart pounding faster and faster.  “No,” he whispered.  

I opened my eyes violently; the dryness of them sending pain and discomfort through me.  I could feel my head pounding, but the pressure in my chest overrode all of it.  As much as I tried, I couldn’t take a breath.  My lungs felt as if they were solid bricks, useless in their emptiness.  I struggled against whatever was blocking them, attempting to take gasp after gasp of fresh air that wouldn’t come.  All I could feel was pain.  My pounding head, aching eyes, useless lungs, and beyond bruised body fought against every survival instinct I had.  

“Oh my God,” I heard a man’s voice yell out.  I lifted my hands to my face and began clawing at the foreign objects that seemed stuck inside of my mouth, arms and chest.  

“No, no, no!” Panicked voices surrounded me as blurred shadows began rushing around me, poking and prodding me at every juncture, as though my threshold for pain was exponentially larger than it actually was.  

“Calm down, Y/N.”  A soothing voice rang in my ear.  “We need to close you up now,” she sang.  “But to do that, you have to sleep.”  

I attempted to speak, wanting nothing more than to scream at the people around me, to tell them no, to make the torment stop, but words were beyond my reach.   “The machines are breathing for you, Y/N.  Don’t fight them.  A little more rest and you can wake back up.  But for now,” she crooned.  “You need to sleep.”  

I watched her fingers grabbing at a tube as another set of hands gave her a vial which she quickly depressed into the tubing between her fingers.  Within seconds, my eyelids drooped, and my head became heavy, my vision fuzzier than before.  And before I could protest, I had drifted into a dreamless, nightmarish sleep.  

The panic in Dean’s chest had begun to consume him as it seemed like the very ground beneath him had given way.  He sank to his knees, kneeling on the floor with his head cradled between his hands.  His cheeks were covered in the salty streaks of his own tears as he took deep breaths, attempting to find some hint that this was all an awful dream.  

Sam moved in front of him, his legs blocking Dean from view.  The doctor stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes, as if she were in shock.  

“You need to say the words, Doc.”  Sam crossed his arms, swallowing the lump in his throat as the tears that his eyelids had been successfully keeping at bay finally fell.  “I need to hear the words, or I won’t believe it.”  He stressed each word, holding on to hope that all of their assumptions were wrong.  

He watched as the doctor finally raised her line of sight to meet his eyes and shook her head slightly as if bringing herself back to the present.  “She’s awake,” she said.  

Sam’s eyes lurched open as his arms fell to his sides.  “What?”  

The doctor shook her head again, confusion clearing as she did so.  “She woke up.  During surgery. She woke up momentarily.”  Her explanation did little to settle the worry that laid heavy throughout the room.  “We had to sedate her, but she did wake up for a moment.”  

Sam lifted his hand and pulled it down his face, grasping his chin as he did so.  “What does that mean?”  His question came out much calmer than he felt.  

“It’s a good sign,” the doctor began.  “Typically, with this kind of trauma, there wouldn’t be more than a ten percent chance of survival.”  Her words did little to provide any comfort.  “But we’ve repaired the damage and she’s in the recovery room now.  It’s going to take a while for her to wake up since we had to sedate her again, but it’s a good sign.”  

Sam took a deep breath, reaching down behind him to grab Dean’s arm.  He pulled him up and forced him to stand.  “Dean,” he said, smacking his hand against his brother’s chest and pointing towards the doctor.  

Dean looked up hesitantly as he made eye contact with the doctor again.  “She’s in the recovery room,” she explained again.  “It’ll be a couple of hours before she’ll be in her own room, but once she is, you’re welcome to see her.”  

“Her body, you mean.”  Dean’s words were painted with defeat.  

“No, Dean.”  Sam turned around, looking at his brother pointedly.  “She’s alive.”  Dean’s eyes flicked over to his brother’s as he let out a breath, allowing more tears to fall down his cheeks.  

My eyelids were so heavy.  Like steel doors that had been locked shut, and I was powerless to move them.  But I could feel the moisture of my own tears leaking through them as they dripped down my cheeks and across my lips.  All I could feel was pain.  The gravel in my chest that seemed to expand with each involuntary breath that I hadn’t initiated.  The sharp, shooting pain that was radiating out from my back.  The pounding in my head that felt as though my temples were trapped in a vice that was constantly being tightened.  It was unreal and I didn’t think I could, or that I’d want, to cope with it.  

Every part of me was scorching.  That same sort of burning feeling that only seemed to happen when you were too cold, freezing from the inside out.  I attempted to move, urging my knees to bend and scoot me away from the frozen fire that felt as though it were seconds away from consuming me.  My lazy, thick voice whined into the emptiness as I urged myself to plead for help.  The only sound that came out was muffled and nonsensical.  

But within seconds, I felt warm fingers snaking themselves around my hand, intertwining my fingers with them.  The warmth and comfort that originated there began to spread, and I poured all of my strength into flexing my fingers and squeezing the hand of my hero that had alleviated some of my agony.  

“Mom?” My voice was almost unrecognizable.  As though I was speaking through a thick layer of fabric that had been woven over my voice box.  

“Shhh,” a soothing voice rang out as another hand swept across my forehead.  “You’re going to be just fine, Y/N.”  I knew that voice.  I would recognize it even if I were dead.  And yet, I couldn’t identify it for the life of me.  

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”  Two lips pressed themselves gently to my forehead, leaving an aura of safety and respite from my aching body.  

“Dad?” I questioned.  

“Y/N?” Another voice called out to me, but from the other side of the room.  “We’re here, Y/N.  Sam and Dean,” it answered me.  “We’re right here.”  

I pursed my eyebrows together, still unable to open my eyes.  Sam and Dean were there.  I knew that their presence meant I was safe.  That the terror of not knowing where I was or why everything hurt so much should ebb away.  But every part of me wanted to scream at them.  To push them away for pulling me back from the perfect peace I had found with my parents.  I could still hear the waves crashing on the beach and remember the feel of my mother’s hand in mine.  But all the contentment and ease had gone and been replaced with suffering.  

“Hey, hey relax Y/N. It’s okay.” Dean’s voice attempted to soothe me as he pushed my hair behind my ear, gently cradling my face.  

“No,” I murmured.  “I want to go back.”  My words came out as whispers, but their intent was sincere.  

Dean relaxed his grip on my hand. “What?” he asked.  But no more words were able to push through my lips.  The tears that had been quietly dripping slowly from my eyes now became a deluge as my eyes and chest were wracked with sobs.  The pain that shot through me with each violent spasm was disorienting and overwhelming, but the tears wouldn’t stop, and my heaving breaths were undeterred.  

My fingers dug into Dean’s hand, desperate to keep him close to me as I pulled him towards the bed.  I was able to curl my legs up into myself, ignoring the pain shooting through my abdomen as I did so, as I pulled Dean’s hand ever closer to me.  

“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice rang out like velvet.  “I’m here,” he said as I felt the bed depress next to me as his legs pressed against mine.  His arm wrapped around my shoulders as he slowly released my hand, holding me close to him and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.  

The sobs that had sped through me began to calm as I buried my face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of evergreen and freshly cut wood.  

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his arms keeping me enveloped into him.  

Deep breath after deep breath of his intoxicating musk had calmed my tears and slowed my breathing back to normal.  The sharp stabbing pain had localized and no longer radiated out to every molecule of my being.  Within minutes, I drifted off, terrified of any dream that I may have that could never compare to where I had just been.  

To be continued….

Part Seven

Taglist (Tag requests are open):

@vicmc624 @waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy  @carissime72  @deans-baby-momma  @formulafun  @woodworthti666  @yetanotherreader  @crashlyrose  @hobby27  @gabby913  @jxackles  @polina-93 @supernaturaladdictsblog  @fandomoverdose666  @deans-baby-momma  @deanwanddamons  @tazzi-baby  @acertainhero  @lilulo-12

(Desperate attempt to get my faves to notice me) @thinkinghardhardlythinking @smol-and-grumpy @wonder-cole-reads @watermelonlipstick @that-one-gay-girl @waywardbaby

[futurebicon]

No Control Part 2

Part 2. I'm actually managing to write these faster than I thought I would be able to. Part 3 will probably take a little bit longer considering I had more time during the weekend. But I hope part 3 will be out as soon as I can write it.

Warning- hospital, mentions of car accident, semi and brief panic attack (?), no medical knowledge

Remus didn't know what to do as he sat in the cold metal chair of the hospital waiting room.

Leo was frozen. Staring blankly at the wall in front of him. His pupils were wide and his skin was a ghostly pale. His chest was rising and falling quicker than it probably should be.

He was 19 years old. He had never lost someone before and now he was in danger of loosing one of the loves of his life. No wonder his mind was trying to protect him.

Shock

Finn was pacing the room and would of punched the wall about half a dozen times if Dumo hadn't stopped him.

Anger

Remus didn't know what was going on. He kept looking towards the doors thinking Sirius would walk through them with his bright smile and kiss him with his soft lips. "Ready to go, mon loup? Doctors said I'm fine so you can stop your worrying. Lets go home and cuddle and maybe later I can prove to you just how fine I am."

Denial

+++

The team trickle in quickly.

James and Lily first. James wanted a play by play of what happened as Lily ran over to Remus with tears on her face. She pulled him into her side and let him cry.

Regulus was next. Pale and frantic. He went over to Leo after squeezing Remus's shoulder in a desperate attempt to comfort. He sat beside his best friend and didn't say anything, just let him process what was happening while hoping his presence help enough.

Remus must have zoned out because when he blinked again the entire team had filled the small waiting room.

"What happened?" James asked again.

"Uh-" Remus explained how they got the call with stuttered and hitched breaths.

+++

"Sirius Black?" The doctor walked into the waiting room.

"Is he okay?" Remus jumped up.

She smiled kindly. "Have a seat."

That can't be good.

"Sirius is in surgery right now to fix severe internal bleeding in his head and to remove his spleen which was ruptured in the crash."

"Oh god." James breathed.

"Now I know it sounds extremely bad but he can survive without a spleen. The only long lasting effects will be a weakened immune system." She calmed their nerves only slightly.

"He does have severe head trauma, the extent of which we won't know until he wakes up. He broke four ribs, one of which punctured his lung. Along with that he also broken both his tibula and his fibula on his left leg. And has severe whiplash. It might not seem like it but he is suspected to make a full recovery. I'll be back if anything happens and when he's out of surgery." She left the room, passing a man in a matching white coat on the way out.

"Logan?" Leo choked.

The doctor nodded and sat down. "His injuries are extensive but he will be able to make a full recovery."

They all let out a sigh of relief.

"He has severe internal bleeding in his chest, abdomen, and head. He also has severe whiplash. His kidney's were mildly damage and he has bruising on his heart. I know it sounds terrifying but all it means is he needs to take it slow and not move around too much." He told them. "You'll be able to see him once we get him stable."

"He- he's not stable?" Finn stammered.

"His vitals are taking a while to get under control." He hesitated. "But it's nothing too concerning considering the trauma his body went through."

They two didn't say anything and the doctor left the room to silence.

+++

Logan was awake when they came in.

"Hi, loves." He rasped out.

Finn sobbed and had to stop himself from flinging himself into his injured boyfriend.

"Shh. I'm okay. I'm okay." His words were slow but held comfort as he cupped his face with a bandaged hand. "I'm okay."

"Lo" Leos voice was gasped and choked. He made no attempt to hide the fear.

"Hey Peanut." Logan smiled. "Come here"

Leo took a step towards him and stopped. "I dont- um- what if I-"

"You're not gonna hurt me. I'm okay."

"But I could." He scanned the room like he was trapped.

"Hey" Finn stood up and walked over to the teenager who hadn't fully come out of his shock yet and seeing his love like this made his mind want to hide away again.

"Here." He gently led him over to the hospital bed. "He's okay."

"Hi, my baby." Logan smiled and grabbed Leo's hand.

"You're okay?"

"I'm okay." Logan nodded.

"Promise?" His voice was broken and his eyes never stopped their sweep of the room.

"I promise."

"Okay." He breathed out and finally calmed down enough to sit beside Logan's bed.

+++

"Hey, Loops" Logan nodded at the pale man as the team walked in. "Any updates?"

"He's still in surgery." His voice was rough with tears and misuse. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore and in pain but I'm alive." He shrugged.

"Thankfully." Dumo walked over.

"Hey, Dumo." Logan hugged him as well as he could.

"Scared me for a while there, kiddo."

"Sorry about that."

"So what happened exactly?" Kasey asked.

"We were gonna go get something to eat and Sirius turned at a greenlight. Someone ran the light and hit Sirius's side. We spun out and then rolled, fuck I don't even know, a lot of times. I think I blacked out on the six or seventh roll. Maybe the second. It felt like forever. I don't know when, or if, Sirius blacked out." Logan explained.

"Kept saying your name though." He looked up at Remus.

Remus's hazel eyes filled with tears and he let out a sob into his elbow.

"Sorry."

"No, no it's okay." Remus sniffled back the tears. "Just, uh, just worried. You know?"

"He'll be alright." Logan told him before smiling. "We just have to come up with some new nickname for him now that he doesn't have a spleen or an immune system."

"Spleenless."

"Captain of the sick ship."

"Sniffles"

"Captain Spleen."

"No mo munie."

They all threw around names.

"He's gonna be more upset about the fact that he won't be able to hide when he's sick than he'll be about the missing organ." James laughed.

"Probably." Remus nodded.

Their laughs were cut off by a knock on the door. "Remus Lupin?" Sirius's doctor, Dr. Gemma, walked in.

"Yeah. What's going on? Is he alright?"

"He's out of surgery and awake." She told them with a kind smile.

"So he's okay?"

"He is showing signs of very, very slight amnesia. Just not remembering the accident at all which is completely understandable and no cause for concern."

"Can I see him?"

"Of course." She nodded.

Remus followed after her with whispers to update them on how he is.

+++

"I do have to warn you about the possible side effects he could start to show or is already showing." Dr. Gemma said as they walked down the long hallways.

"Like what?"

"As I said he does have slight amnesia. He seems to either be having hearing problems or is having a hard time understanding speech. Possibly both. He might also be having difficulty thinking. There is other symptoms that he hasn't shown yet but might in the future, headaches, seizure, nausea, vomiting, fever, and more. If any of these happen or anything concerning, page us immediately."

They finally turned down the hallway that seemed to be his.

"I'll let you two be, and again, page us immediatly if anything happens or if you need anything. Okay?" They stopped outside his door.

"Okay, thank you."

"No need for thanks." She smiled. "Now go see him. You were the first thing he asked about when he woke up."

Remus smiled at that and pushed the door open. He tried hard not to react to all the wires surrounding him but it was hard not too. All he could do to try was hurry over to his lovers side.

"Hi, baby." He smiled through tears as his hazel eyes saw grey. "Hi" He gripped his hand tightly.

"Re" Sirius said slowly.

"Yeah. yeah. It's me, baby. I'm right here. You're okay. You're okay." He kissed his forehead to hide the tears.

"Don't- cry- mon loup." It took him a while to say.

"Sorry. You just scared me for a little while." Remus smiled at him. "Are you feeling okay?"

Sirius gave him a confused look.

"What? What's wrong? Are you okay? What do you need?" Remus rambled in concern.

"Shh" Sirius set a hand on Remus's. "Okay" He talked about himself. "Just, too many."

"Too many what, love?"

"Words. Can't know. Don't think." He was begining to get frustrated.

"It's okay." Remus said slower. "I know. It's okay."

Sirius nodded and relaxed against the pillows.

"Said Logan- with- hurt?" the words were chopped and Remus could see the frustration in his eyes.

"Logan was in the car." Remus nodded. "But he's okay. The team is with him."

"Team?" Sirius furrowed his eyebrows and blinked in confusion.

"Your hockey team." Remus tried to keep the panic out of his voice. "James, Dumo, Logan, Leo, Finn, Kasey, Walker, Kuny, Olli-"

"I remember." Sirius cut him off. "Just forgot."

"That's okay. The doctors said that would happen."

"See them?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"See the doctors?"

"No. Team."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. I'm sure the team will be here soo-"

As if they heard them, a group of hockey players knocked on the door and walked into the hospital room

I really don't like this part compared to part one.

Thank you @lumosinlove for letting us take your happy, lovely characters and make them be in pain

[iamtrebleclefstories]

I believe in second chances - part seven

teasing friends and wedding dates

hi, it’s been a minute. life got crazy busy and I had major writers block. if you need a refresher on what happened previously, go check out my master list

—Part 7—

“Wow, you clean up nicely,” Meredith teased as she walked into the attendings lounge to find Alex getting ready for the wedding.

“He’s taking Wilson with him to Bailey’s wedding,” Jackson shot a sly smile over their way. “That’s why he keeps fiddling with his tie.”

“Shut up,” Alex grumbled as he straightened his tie for the fifth time.

“Aww he’s nervous,” April laughed as she fastened her earrings. “How sweet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered, Karev.”

“I’m not nervous,” Alex furrowed his brow and smoothed down his jacket. “I just want to look nice. Is that so bad?”

“Oh, he’s totally nervous,” Cristina snickered. “Twenty bucks says he makes a fool out of himself tonight.”

“Nah, I think he’s gonna get laid tonight,” Jackson’s lips curved up into a grin.

“Will you guys shut up already?” Alex huffed, annoyed at their constant meddling. “We’re going as friends. I already told you guys. I’m not rushing anything, I’m not pushing anything. And my goal isn’t to get into her pants.”

“I hate this mature, sappy side of you,” Cristina scowled in disgust. “You’re no fun anymore. What happened to filthy, diseased, manwhore Alex?”

“He fell in love,” Alex replied simply, gaining a slew of raised eyebrows and surprised looks from his friends.

“Woah he actually said it. He admitted that he’s in love with her,” April’s jaw dropped.

“Pay up, Avery,” Cristina extended her hand. “I told you he was gonna say it.”

“You guys suck,” Alex glared at them and stood up from the chair and walked towards the door. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you guys at the wedding.”

Alex walked out of the attendings lounge and over to the intern locker room, palms sweating. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It wasn’t as if he and Jo hadn’t spent alone time together. They’d gone out to the bar and for pizza after work multiple times. This wasn’t anything they hadn’t done previously. Even in the before, when Jo and Alex weren’t nearly as close as they were now, the concept of the two of them going out alone wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But for some reason, Alex couldn’t slow the hammering of his heart as he approached the locker room.

Straightening his tie one more time and clearing his throat, Alex walked into the room. He felt his breath hitch in his throat as Jo walked out of the bathroom and mooted out her dress. Jo’s eyes widened as she saw Alex waiting in the doorway, dressed up in suit and tie, fidgeting nervously.

She blushed lightly when she noticed his staring, “You clean up nicely.”

“Thanks,” Alex smiled bashfully. “You… you look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Jo’s cheeks flushed at the compliment.

They stood there awkwardly for a second before Alex shook himself from his thoughts and spoke, “You ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m ready,” Jo answered and grabbed her purse, walking out the door Alex held open. “So… Bailey’s actually getting married today.”

“Yup,” Alex nodded.

“Guess that means the interns should stop calling her booty-call Bailey. Since she’s going to be a married woman and all,” Jo chuckled slightly.

Alex let out a snort. He’d forgotten about the nickname the interns had given Bailey his first year as a fellow, “Yeah… might be a good idea.”

*****

“Dude go talk to her,” Jackson urged Alex. “She’s been sitting at the bar alone for the last twenty minutes. You need to go over there before one of the groomsmen tries to pick her up and take her home tonight.

Alex shot Jackson a glare, “Shut up, no one is going to take her home tonight except me.” His eyes widened when realized how that sentence sounded. “I mean… I’m going to, I just… I’m trying to figure out what I’m going to say.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to seeing you like this,” April took another sip of her wine. “Just have a conversation with her like a normal human being. Jackson is right. You can’t sit here forever.”

“I know that,” Alex groaned when April and Jackson’s pagers went off.

“Well, it looks like you’re going to have to go talk to her now because we are leaving,” Jackson smirked and held out his hand for April to follow him.

“Good luck Romeo,” April waved as she and Jackson walked away.

Alex exhaled and made his way over to the bar where Jo was sulking. Burying his hands in his pockets and plastering a nervous smile on his face, he motioned for the bartender, “Beer for me and another round for Hobo Jo. Let me guess… Thunderbird? Or is it straight paint thinner?” He grinned at the bartender. “You got a little brown paper bag you can put that in?”

“Stop that,” Jo rolled her eyes as a smile creeped its way onto her face. “I had no parents. I lived in my car. But you can’t exactly say you’re any better, “Mr. I went to juvie.’”

“Shut up,” Alex laughed. “At least you didn’t have to see your schizo mom go after your baby brother with a steak knife. Which reminds me - I should call and check on them. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea,” Jo hummed. She looked down at the drink in her hand. “Where did Kepner and Avery go? I thought you were talking with them at the table.”

“They got paged for a trauma,” Alex answered.

“Do we have to go?” Jo stood up from the chair. “Let’s go.”

“Oh no,” Alex guided Jo back to her seat. “You don’t get to practice medicine with booze in your system. Besides, you’re on peds and we’re not needed.”

“But I wanted to get in on a cool trauma surgery,” Jo pouted.

“If you keep drinking like that, you’ll be the trauma case,” Alex quipped, eliciting a playful glare from Jo. “After this, no more paint thinner. I’ll buy you a couple beers, though. I know your limit on those.”

“Kill joy,” Jo responded and ordered a round of tequila shots, leaving Alex to stare in disbelief. “Oh come on, do at least one round of shots with me. I’m much more fun to be around when I’m drunk anyway.”

“Call me crazy, but I prefer you sober,” Alex pushed the shot glasses the bartender had placed in front of them away from Jo.

“Alex. Please,” Jo looked at him with wide eyes and stuck out her bottom lip.

“Really? Puppy dog eyes. You’re seriously going to go there?” Alex gave her an unimpressed look.

“Is it working?”

Not being able to say no to that face, Alex relented, "Fine. But only one round of shots and no more. I don't feel like throwing you over my shoulder and hauling your drunk ass out of here tonight."

"Why not? That sounds like fun," Jo's eyes shined brightly.

"Shut up," Alex rolled his eyes.

*****

"Oh my God, did you see his face?" Jo held her stomach as she cackled. "It was priceless. And your face! Your face when he walked in was hilarious."

"And then you threw the vodka shots at him," Alex wiped a couple tears. "Oh man… I haven't laughed like that in years."

It was true, the first time he'd experienced breaking into a stranger's hotel room in the before had been hilarious, but this time around was somehow funnier than he remembered it. Maybe it's because he knew Jo better in this reality. Knowing who she was made it easier to laugh with her and be himself.

Something that he was reminded of since waking up in this timeline was that he never had to be afraid to be himself with Jo. In this timeline as well as the previous one, she had immediately accepted him for who he was. It was an overwhelming realization. Before Jo, no one had simply accepted him for who he was and not who they wanted him to be. Sure his friends accepted him--eventually--but It wasn't without trying to change him first before realizing that this was who he was.

He fought the desire to just pull Jo into his arms and kiss her. He couldn't do that. Not when everything that happened in this timeline depended on the decisions he made going forward.

Still, Alex couldn't help himself as he stared at Jo who sat at the Kitchen island with a carefree smile on her face. So, he finally made his move, "Let's go out today. We both have off, we should do something fun, go somewhere nice.”

"Why would we go out when we can laze around and do nothing here?" Jo reached out for a banana that was in the bowl in front of her. "Besides, going out during the day isn't really our thing. If we go out it's usually for drinks after work and we inevitably end up back here and sit on the couch watching bad TV and joking around for hours until we fall asleep. Plus, I don't even want to think about alcohol after last night. And I definitely do not want to see the state of my liver."

Alex shook his head, "I'm not asking you to get day drunk with me. I'm asking you to go out with me."

Jo's jaw dropped and the banana in her hands fell onto the counter and her eyes looked as though they might bulge out of her skull at any second. She opened and closed her mouth a couple times before speaking, "Oh… You mean a… Oh!" She blinked at him a few times. "Alex… I'm just… I come with a lot of baggage--"

"I know, and that's okay," Alex assured her.

" I'm- I'm not ready to be with anyone yet," Jo attempted to let him down gently. "I like you, I really do. You're probably my best friend. But I need to fix my mess first. One day soon, I'll do it. I'll fix the mess in my brain and I'll be ready."

"Okay," Alex nodded. "Well, I'll be here when you are."

If Jo needed any confirmation or indicator as to what kind of man Alex was, that one comment was enough to crush any doubts she may have had about his character.

"You'd really do that? You'd wait?" She asked.

"Look, I'm going to say something that might freak you out a little because you get squirrely when you're scared, but Jo… I want you and I'm not going anywhere. I'll wait my whole damn life for you because you're worth it. You’re worth being waited on," Alex sighed, eyes softening at the woman sitting across from him. "For now, we're whatever you want us to be. You're taking the lead."

"Let's go out," Jo shrugged. "I mean, we're friends, right? We can still go out. Friends go out with each other."

"Yeah," Alex replied casually. "We can do that."

"Okay."

[whump-town]

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five.

I’m actually pretty proud that I finished a multi-chapter for once...

There is something stirred deep within Derek Morgan by this shattered knife-like mosaic disaster. He thinks in spirals about his father. Mostly of little Jack and how Morgan wasn’t much older than him when his own father died. He thinks about the events that took place in his life without a father there to guide him, of the trespasses beseeched upon him for being a foolish lost little boy. Nightmares stir up and Carl Buford makes his hold on Morgan’s life known once again. And yet, stead-fast curiously planted, Jack remains and Morgan promises to never let anyone hurt this boy. Not like he was hurt and not like Hotch was hurt.

Never. So long as there is breathe in his lungs.

He sees the dust the other’s kick up, as well. The ease with which Emily takes on caring for Jack. Seemingly never blinking as the boy bounces from needs-- frantically pulling at his shirts, kicking his shoes off, hitting his head, or ears. She breathes and soothes him until he can find her calm in himself and together they cut tags out of pants or she carries him so he doesn’t have to wear his shoes or finds the soundproof earmuffs in the bag so he can’t hear all the sounds. Sometimes she just lets him scream until he feels better because she wants to fucking scream too. And on more than one occasion he’s caught them both doing just that.

They’ve all taken to their new little mindless tasks. Eat breakfast. Sit with Hotch. Having lunch together half after one. Mind Jack. Have Dinner. Routine, each with their own, drilled into their bones until they feel less like profilers and more like grievers. The unbalance of one of their tasks is detrimental.

Two days after the accident, Hotch has surgery. Metal rods set to stabilize his ribs, to fix his flail chest, and the promise of his return burns like smoke in their lungs. But there is no magic moment like they’d hope for. To hear his voice or see him through a moment of clarity. There is no gradual getting there.

The first memory: the hospital. He hates the smell and the lights and the tube down his throat. He’s been intubated so many times throughout his life that he considered there should be an eventual immunity to the swollen, tightness-- he thought they’d at least have figured out how to make it so this doesn’t hurt so much. Overwhelmingly, he feels the itch to find some sort of grounding from his surroundings. But hospitals have this silence that is so loud. A crawl on spider legs that creeps its way up way until it’s staring you right in the eyes. There is nothing here and as he feels his heartbeat start to chip at his chest, he lets go.

The second, third, maybe even fourth, fifth, and sixth memories are snapshots. The briefest moments between the intense agony on his chest and their muted comforts. Dave’s palm on his face, suddenly making him too aware of the machine pulling and pushing air into his lungs. It’s too fast, he can’t keep up. Emily’s thumb rubbing up and down his knuckles, he sees her face for only a moment. She smiles, stiff and unnatural. Morgan sleeping. He’d pulled a chair to at the end of Hotch’s bed, moved it so they’re facing one another.

The next solid memory is a water bottle. He feels the plastic label scratching against the sensitive skin on his forearm, a water bottle wedged between his arm and his hip. He turns his head, a tiny movement, and sees JJ in the visitor’s chair. Her feet are kicked up on the edge of the bed and mindlessly pressing a Twizzler to her mouth. Eyes wide as she reads the book in her lap. There are very few moments in his life so natural, so calm. For a moment, there is no ache, no pain. Just Jennifer Jareau and the transfixing beauty of shock smacked across her face.

She’s pretty, he doesn’t think anyone really tells her that.

Days, hours, minutes-- time passes and he has but loses strands to hold onto.

Cough. The head of the bed is raised, his ribs ache, and pulse within his chest. Shifting. He gags painfully around the tube, squeezing the bedsheet beneath him with all his might, as the tube scraps up the back of his throat. Cough. He can not remember being prepared for the extraction, just the end. The people around him pushing and pulling at him. The end of the tube comes free and he realizes they’ve been guiding him along. Easy, easy. Someone pulls a mask up over his face, the strap pulling at a scab near his ear. It doesn’t hurt-- his lungs feel like magma.

He doesn’t speak. He’s not sure if he can but even if he could he would not speak the words threatening to come spilling out. It’s all he’s ever wanted, never once does he have to ask for touch. It comes bountifully but still, he craves more, resisting the urge to ask for more. On dangerously baited breathes he waits for it, the immense relief that he gets is enough to allow him to sleep deeply for hours. Never a nightmare in a sight. They touch like they are afraid he will pour like water from their cupped hands and he is grateful for the reclaiming of his body. He’s uncertain he is really there until they touch him. Until a knuckle brushes his cheek or a hand squeezes his fingers.

He is here. Despite the way death clings to his tired bones, he can feel the will-full breathes he draws in. The heart in his chest. The hurt. Decisive pain. Living pain.

Reid is curled up in one of the waiting room chairs, a blanket pulled up and around him-- even over his head. Hotch watches him silently for several minutes. Soothed by Reid’s soft, thoughtless rocking as he reads. The only solid, real noise the brush of his fingers over the old softened pages of his book.

He can’t escape the pain and he shifts, jaw clenched to refrain from making a noise. It’s intense, the deep stabbing pain along his ribs and sternum. Enough to make his breathing stutter, holding it to prevent his chest from moving and incurring the pain.

“You have to breathe.”

Hotch turns his head, quick laborious breathes to try and stifle the pain.

Reid struggles for a moment to decide what to do but he knows what Emily or Dave would do and so he takes Hotch’s right hand. He holds it tight, applying deep pressure. “Hotch, you had a pneumothorax and a thoracic surgery--” that’s probably not helpful. He doesn’t know what to say. “I know it hurts,” Reid offers. “Can I-- Is there-- Let me get a nurse.”

Reid tries to turn away but Hotch chokes on a panicked exhale, squeezing Reid’s hand. Hotch shakes his head. “No, no,” he’s wheezing, struggling to breathe, and needs a nurse but Reid can’t bring himself to move away. “I’m okay.” Hotch pinches his eyes shut, focusing all his attention on slowing his breathing back down. “I’m okay.”

“Emily’s going to kill me.”

The pain has not ebbed away in the slightest but with some control, with Reid’s hand still tightly gripping his own, the cloud of haze melts away. Forcing his eyes back open, willing his body to ease and stop tensing in the hopes that the pain might go with it. “Emily?” he asks. His mouth fumbles with her name and he slurs but Reid nods.

Out of all of them, Reid has been at the hospital the least. He hates them. The noises, the cold chill, the desperation… So, yes. Reid knows that Emily is probably going to kill him because just as she’d walked out for the evening, and he’d come in she’d commented that Hotch seemed more reactive. And that if Hotch woke up while Reid was thereafter she’d spent hours and days with him, she was going to be livid.

In the same way, Dave is going to be frustrated. Not mad at Reid just… put off. Exasperated for the ability to make contact with him after all this time. They’re all itching to have him back.

“Yeah,” Reid finally answers. “She--” he looks down the tile, a flush of heated warmth spiking up his face. “We,” he corrects. “We missed you.”

Hotch, breathes shallow but calm, is trying to fight the gallons of warmth being dumped into his arm. It stings but he can not fight it. “I missed you too,” he whispers.

Reid stands right there, afraid to move, and shattered the calm falling over Hotch. Even long after he knows Hotch has fallen asleep. He does not tell anyone about this interaction. He keeps it for himself and hopes Hotch doesn’t remember. It’s likely he won’t.

He doesn’t wake the next day, at all. Not even a little bit of a stir. He was really, really out of it and that’s saying something because Derek came and about an hour into his stay he got up to go to the bathroom and kicked the bed. Hard. His explosive “fuck” echoed but Hotch didn’t budge an inch.

Visiting hours are coming to a close when he does wake up the next day. Numb-- to the point that his body feels removed and it’s not until Dave sets a hand on his leg that he feels rooted, here. His tongue is thick, hard to maneuver, but with Dave’s attention on the puzzle book in his hands, he has the time needed to speak.

“Where’s Jack?”

Dave doesn’t look up from his puzzle, just raises an eyebrow to communicate Hotch has been heard. After a moment, Dave hums and circles a word he’s found. “Hmm,” he shuts his book and turns to Hotch. Overjoyed, truly, to hear the other man’s voice after all this time but hesitant to communicate that. He doesn’t want to overwhelm him. “Jack is with Derek tonight but Jessica in the morning.”

Hotch nods, already feeling the weight settle back over his chest.

“You feeling okay?” Dave asks, reaching over and putting his hand on Hotch’s knee. He’s paled and Dave can see the pain lines breaking out over his forehead. His lips parting as he fogs the oxygen mask over his face. In the end, he hasn’t the control to verbally confirm that he’s okay. So he just nods. Dave isn’t stupid. “Tell me what’s wrong,” Dave stands.

His hand moves from Hotch’s knee to the side of his head, the palm of his hand meeting the edges of Hotch’s sweat-soaked hair. Even in his sleep, Hotch can’t escape the pain. It kills Dave to be brought so helplessly to his knees.

“I’m cold.”

Dave pulls the one small blanket they’ve allowed him up to his shoulders but does nothing for his pale arms bare and broken out in painful goosebumps. “I know,” Dave whispers. “I know.”

Dave stands there for a long while, holding Hotch as close as he can. Watching Hotch fall back asleep, whimpering just slightly as he falls back under and loses his control.

The next day, Dave comes in finds Emily. He should have known it was only a matter of time before she and Hotch get back into their normal transactions. He’s still not certain if he prefers when they get along (and wreak havoc) or when they sit at each other’s throats. For now, he can just watch them from afar.

Emily is sitting on the bed, the head of which is raised. She’s sitting facing Hotch, both her legs pulled up so they’re tucked against her chest as the two talk. “I’m not saying you’re wrong,” she defends. “You just… certainly aren’t right.”

His eyebrows furrow, the paleness of his face highlighting the cuts and scrapes still trying to heal along his skin. “That’s saying I’m wrong,” he rasps.

She shrugs, “I’m trying to be nice to you, okay? You have a brain injury. Just… don’t get used to it.”

Dave leans against the doorway. This is the most interactive Dave’s seen Hotch in days. Even if he’s sunk down into the bed, watching more than interacting with Emily from behind tired eyes. She doesn’t seem to mind and it’s hard to imagine being bothered with his lack of participation with the weeks they’ve faced.

“Oh,” Hotch hums. “Emily Prentiss being nice, that’s new.” Then he frowns, having properly comprehended what she said. “I don’t have a brain injury, Emily.”

She rolls her eyes. “I am nice to other people, you know? People who don’t annoy me.” That’s the humor, the part Dave loves most about watching the two of them interact (well, when they’re not annoying the shit out of him with the constant arguing-- he never had children but he imagines that the two of them at their worst are exactly what it’s like to have two children). Emily says that Hotch annoys her, she messes with him, she plucks his nerves, and here she sits with his hand in her own. Holding on because she’s afraid to let go.

“And maybe you don’t have a brain injury right now but I’m certain someone dropped you as a baby.” She shakes her head, “that’s saying you were held.”

Hotch doesn’t react and if he or she were different people that comment would sting but she knows his history and he just squints his eyes at her. “You talk a lot of smack for someone whose senior prom date stood her up for her ex.” His head is starting to pound, right on his left temple. He doesn’t want to stop talking though. Doesn’t want Emily to leave and have the room sink back into the cold loneliness of before. He’s afraid of it.

“Hotch!” Emily chides. “I told you that while I was drunk! I was being vulnerable.”

Dave enters the room on that note, frowning in faux betrayal. “You two drink without me?”

They both turn in surprise to see Dave, neither look guilty nor even like they feel bad. Emily nods, “you left for three weeks while you dated that attorney, Dave. You think we just… stopped doing things because you weren’t there?” She raises an eyebrow but Dave’s face says it all. Yeah, obviously. “Dave, Hotch wouldn’t leave his house if I didn’t drag him out.” And, frankly, they’re her closest friends. She loves girl’s nights with JJ and Garcia but there is just so much talking.

With Dave and Hotch there is no need. Dave will do 95% of the talking leaving her to lean against one of them and sit in the comfort. You have to have a balance. That being said, neither Dave nor Hotch has ever helped her pick out a face mask and taught her how to curl her bangs away from her face so…

“It wasn’t my idea,” Hotch offers.

Emily glares at him.

“Of course it wasn’t,” Dave mumbles.

The visit, as fun as it is, comes to an end far sooner than he wants it to. But they can see he’s in pain. Emily climbs off the bed but he doesn’t let go of her hand. She stops for a moment, looking desperately at Dave. She bends back over the bed, resting her forehead against his. “Get some rest,” she says, carding her fingers through his messy hair.

Hotch hates being like this. The constant in and out. The complete lack of autonomy and most of that being at his own fault-- his own inability to do anything. To tell them that he hates being alone. That he can suffer some more just please don’t leave but the nurses come again and Emily forces their hands apart.

And he’s left to sink back into the drugs, wondering when he’ll escape this hell.

Derek Morgan conspires a plan-- Connect Four. It was his favorite game to play with his sisters and now he’s going to teach Jack.

“I’m going to beat your ass,” Emily informs him as soon as she sees the box. She had overnight duty with Jack and the trade-off still isn’t for another two hours but Morgan thought she could do with a distraction. Jack’s an angel, a little loud at times but mostly wiped out. All this movement is overwhelming. Still, it’s hard to do any of this alone and it gives them a new appreciation for what Hotch and Jessica must do every day.

Morgan doesn’t respond to her, just squats down beside the chair she’s sitting in to see Jack. The kid is sleeping against her chest, legs pulled into her lap. He has a hat pulled down over his ears and soft little green overalls. No shoes but he imagines those are just kicked off somewhere in the room. “How are they?” he asks.

Emily sighs, shaking her head and giving a minimal shrug to not wake Jack. “Poor baby didn’t sleep at all last night,” she informs him sadly. The thought distresses her and she stops a moment to rub Jack’s back, comforting herself with the weight of him settled against her. “He was crying for Hotch…”

Morgan nods his head, so that’s why she’s here. They had all more or less agree to keep Jack away from the hospital. It’s got potential sensory issues written all over it-- deprived walls, the beeping, the yelling… So, when he sent her a text to ask who’s house she had ended up staying at last night (her own, Dave’s, or maybe Hotch’s) so he could drop by he’d been taken by surprise at her answer to being here.

She’d been worried, at first, by this decision as well. Jack had sobbed all night, screamed his throat raw. She could do nothing but offer him things in place of the father he obviously wanted. So, as soon as she could she took him back. Jack had been a little taken aback by the sight of his father laid out like that but after a stiff moment, the small boy sniffled and hummed to himself. And that seemed to settle it.

He was gentle and listened when Emily told him “stay away from Daddy’s chest, Jack. He’s hurt, okay?”. With a yawn he tucked his face into Hotch’s stomach, half his body over Hotch’s right hip-- Emily only let him settle down once she was sure there were no open wounds or other injuries she could recall to that leg. And he was out like a light.

Hotch is still rather in and out, too unaware to really rely on him to wake up. They try not to hold it against him but it does sting a little when he’s alert to talk to some of them but not all of them. Neither Garcia nor Derek have spoken to him yet. That does bother them because it’s hard to believe he’s okay if they never see that themselves.

Connect Four is a hit.

“Allow me to consult my second chair.” Emily crouches down beside Jack, cracking a bit in her playful seriousness when Jack giggles as she takes his shoulders in her hands. “What do we do?” she asks him. She plays into looking hopeless, really searching for an answer from him. “Jack, please, I need you!”

Lifting him up into her arms she watches him look their board over with all the seriousness someone of his age can muster. He clicks his tongue happily as he does so, squinting his little eyes as he really thinks. He looks just like Hotch for a moment, that focused frown.

“Here,” Emily gives Jack the yellow game piece. The room falls silent as Jack tries to figure out where to put the piece. Then, with a smile, he plops the yellow piece down and blocks Derek’s red pieces move to connect. “Yay!” Emily high-fives Jack, both cheering as Derek pretends to be utterly defeated.

As he sinks down in his chair Derek leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling and for some reason, he sneaks a glance over at Hotch. He snaps up, “Hotch.”

Hotch smiles, still a little groggy having just woken up, “you suck at Connect Four.” Hearing the sound of his father’s voice, gravely and strained but still his, Jack looks up too. “Hey, buddy.”

As afraid as Morgan is to overwhelm Hotch, he can’t help but crowd in as Emily lowers Jack to the bed. All three gently reminding the overcited boy to be careful. Jack flusters for a moment, clicking his tongue, and drawing his hands up to his chest. But Hotch moves his hand to Jack’s lap, unable to really raise it but he gets it just close enough to get the message across. Jack takes his father��s hand, rocking himself on the bed with an even brighter smile.

“Did you beat Uncle Derek at Connect Four?” Hotch asks, glancing at Morgan as he asks.

Jack looks at Morgan too and nods, a mischievous little grin.

“Twice,” Morgan mumbles, reaching over and pushing Jack’s head. “Cheater.”

Hotch pats Jack’s stomach, smiling when Jack curls into his hand, leaning into him until his head rests on Hotch’s stomach. Hotch moves his hand to Jack’s head, gently brushing the hair back. He smiles content, despite the pain, for the first time since he woke up.

“He’s probably ready for a nap,” Emily informs him, rubbing at Jacks’ back when he heaves a big yawn. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

Hotch nods, Jack’s never been a good sleeper. Jack just looks up at him, silent and still. “Are you sleepy?” Hotch asks, cupping Jack’s cheek. Jack turns, pressing his face into Hotch’s stomach rather than answering which is typically a yes. “Come here,” he whispers.

“Hotch--”

“He’ll be fine,” Hotch assures them. He motions Jack up and sitting up, Jack listens. Yawning as he crawls up the side of the bed and settles close. Worming under his father’s instruction against his side, head just below Hotch’s clavicle. It does hurt. His arms aren’t very mobile and Jack is putting just the right amount of pressure on his side but… he hasn’t held his son in weeks.

Jack falls right to sleep.

“Leave him,” Hotch whispers, after a while. “Go get some lunch, take a walk. We’ll be fine.” He turns his head to Jack, calmed by the familiar comfort of his son.

Morgan is adamant but Emily pulls a blanket up over them both, removing it from the conversation. “We’ll bring you both back something,” Emily tells him. She kisses Jack’s head and messes with Hotch’s hair before righting herself. She stops for just a moment, watching the two of them-- Jack clutching Hotch’s gown and Hotch obviously fighting sleep until the two of them leave.

“Morgan?”

Derek steps close to the bed, taking Hotch’s free hand.

“Thank you.”

His mouth dries and he nods, “of course, man. We all did our part.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Morgan shakes his head, “no. No, we did. That’s what you do for family.” Morgan clears his throat, and squeezes Hotch’s hand before letting it go and stepping back. “Get some sleep man. When that kid wakes up, it’s your ass he’s beating in Connect Four.”

Hotch can’t wait.

[sothatmyocshauntmealittleless]

No time to die - part 1/2

->part 2

author's note: so this is a piece I started writing when I got bored in a family gathering like two years ago, and I rewrote it recently. This is the first part and I haven't finished editing the rest but I estimate that there would be one or two more parts. The story is about two high school friends that meet after five years of having no contact with each other and their confrontation. Also the name is inspired by the song with the same name by Billie Eilish 'cause I was listening to it while writing a part of this and the song really suits the relationship between the characters.

~1800 words

I’m feeling a burning ache in my abdomen, and my mind is full of different scenarios that this could lead to, one worse that the other. What if I call an ambulance? I answer myself within a fraction of a second that it wouldn’t lead to pleasant things though the alternative which is bleeding to death isn’t ideal either. So just when I’ve finally convinced myself to pick up the phone and call an ambulance before I pass out, a name crosses my mind. It’s the best and the worst thing that I can do at the same time, but well sometimes your survival instincts would take over your overthinking abilities, no matter how strong they are. And despite all my hesitation, I know the number by heart.

She picks up the phone after few rings, “Hello?”, I’m a bit thrown off by how her voice is the same but her tone is different from the last time I’ve heard her, “Hi”, my voice shakes and I don’t know if it’s from the injury or hearing her voice again. “Riley? Is that you?”, somehow she could recognize me from just that one word and at least her tone is less formal now. “Yeah it’s me, listen I wanted to ask if you could come here now if you can, but it’s totally fine if you can’t make it.” Maybe it’s the shock of hearing someone from your past, or my shaky voice that she agrees to come without any other questions and I tell her my address in the calmest pace I can.

Until she arrives I spend my time overthinking on how bad of an idea it was to call her, and why would she even bother herself with my problems anymore, like who in their right mind would hurry in the middle of the night to heal someone from their past that they tried so hard to abandon. But careful knocks on the door save me from my thoughts. I open the door and for a moment think that the option of bleeding to death at least could’ve saved me from the awkwardness of this, before I manage to say “Thank you so much for coming, I really didn’t want to trouble you”, she replies “Not that I love getting surprise calls at midnight but what’s the occasion?” and then she takes a look at me with her perfect hazel eyes and sees it, the blood soaking my shirt and says “holy fuck Ri, what did… what happen- it doesn’t matter now”

It takes her only few moments to get into her other sleeve, the doctor she was trained to be, giving orders and analyzing the situation, only stopping once to curse me under her breath that I should’ve told her to bring her medical stuff and that I’m a lucky bastard that she didn’t come totally unprepared. Then her inner doctor takes charge completely. I tell myself maybe outer, you know it’s who she is now, heal first talk later that’s what she does.

“Take your shirt off”, I obey without making a snarky comment because even I can tell it would be inappropriate. I can’t really describe the process of her stitching me up, because I’ve never been a big fan of surgeries to the point I even skip them when they come up in movies, and maybe beside how pain makes everything hazy, I can’t wrap my head around the idea of her hands on me.

When it’s done she gives me some final instructions and tells me to don’t move from where I’m sitting for at least half an hour. Then standing in front of me without taking a step, she looks at her watch and her gaze lingers to the door and I know she’s thinking about leaving, but decides against it, at least for now.

“So are you gonna tell me how this happened?”, she asks gesturing towards my wound that is now stitched and bandaged. I guess I’m too exhausted for anything but the truth so I say “I was working on a case, and it didn’t end well.” She glares at me, “Well I can see that clearly, but how did it turn that way?”, “my client was a small business going to court against a big company, I had some dirty things on them but they weren’t enough proof so I was looking for more and they sent someone to scare me off I think, but um I tried to resist and it escalated quickly and I got a nice killer knife wound.” “It wasn’t fatal,” she says, “What?” I reply a bit shocked, “I said it wasn’t fatal, the knife didn’t go that deep, what? You thought I could fix a fatal cut with couple of stiches?” to that I mumble that I really trust her abilities and she rolls her eyes. I think at this point we’re past the formal greetings and small talks and now that the crisis is over she seems done with my shit so she continues “So you’ve finally fulfilled your dreams and became the woman you’ve always aspired to be, a detective/lawyer hunting down bad guys and giving them what they deserve” she doesn’t even try to hide the bitterness in her voice, and so if we’re going there now, I won’t try to hide it from mine either, “And you’ve became a doctor, a life you have dreamed of from the beginning, never even thinking to be anything else.”

She sighs and drops to the couch in front of me, “So this is the time that you’ve finally decided to talk about it.” It doesn’t sound like a question, more like a statement. Maybe being in pain and exhausted sharpens your edges and makes the things you’ve hidden carefully to snap free because I can’t hold back when I say: “Says the one who just abandoned me overnight and decided to part ways forever without even a heads up.” The thing is I’ve imagined having this conversation so many times in so many different situations, that it actually happening doesn’t feel real, it feels like another one of those fantasies in my head except she is really here now, and my pulse is betraying me by beating so damn fast.

“I didn’t abandon you, If I had you’d still be bleeding.” And a part of me wants to just accept that and move on and embrace her, because I’ve missed her, hell I’ve missed her so much I want to hug her and never let go, and we have a lot to catch up on too, five years worth of memories. Five years that we were no more than outside observers in each other's lives, but the stronger part, the part that’s been hurting ever since wants to have this conversation, needs to have this conversation or else I would never stop imagining it in my head.

“Well maybe our definition of abandonment is a bit different, ‘cause changing your life course and treating me like a stranger and pretending like all our planning and dreaming for future never happened sure as hell fits in mine.”

“I never treated you like a stranger, you were the one who decided to not talk to me and have anything to do with me anymore and cut contact completely”

“Because I couldn’t do it like that anymore, like I was just another one in your new class, as if we didn’t have history, like what we had wasn’t something more. We used to joke about how disconnected we felt from them, not because we hated them because we were different, or at least I thought you were.”

“People change Riley.”

And for a few moments neither of us backfires anything else to the other, and my mind finds time to wonder for the thousandth time why we didn’t even call each other all these years. But well one of the things that made us close at first was how stubborn we were. I remember clearly when there was a debate competition in school and we were a team and crashed the whole thing. Beside our passion for the matter we were unstoppable, to the point that each match ended to the other team being like “dear god just let it go it’s over”, and remembering those days even now in the midst of this makes me a little calmer.

I can’t help but ask, “Was it because I tried to-“ before letting me finish she says “God no, you think I could transfer in a day? And for what? Not everything is about you, or what you do or what you want, I thought five years would be enough time to learn that”, and well I’ve always known that it was a coincidence that those two things happened successively. But deep down I couldn’t shove the idea away that it was all because she wanted to get away from me, that it was my fault and I shouldn’t have done it after all. I know that doubt has led me to be selfish, and to give up on trying to fix it, and to suffer more, and I don’t know how to defend it (or if I even should). Throughout all these years I’ve also imagined getting the answer to this question countless times, and how I’ll finally be at peace if I got this answer, but now I don’t feel relived as much as I wanted to.

“So you thought of me in those years?” I say in a hopeful tone still desperately clenching to this conversation, as if all this could be solved just if we have this talk. “Way to avoid my point right? You haven’t changed a bit, reckless and careless and always holding on to things that don’t matter much to the extent that you nearly got yourself killed,” but she says this in a kinder tone than the previous one, maybe even with a hint of worry in her voice. I finally give up on trying to get this conversation to fix it all, and decide that we’re too tired now, so I reply “I thought you said it wasn’t fatal.” A pause then, “It’s really late, are you going to leave now?” I hope that she can hear the silent ‘stay’ in what I just said. “I don’t think I can get a taxi now, can I? considering the time, and I don’t have the energy to explain all this to someone and wake them to pick me up”, “you can stay if you want?” and for all we’ve been through, I’m relieved when she agrees.

//end of part 1

->part 2

[jacmyheroacademia]

Hanahaki Bakugo X FemReader Part Two

Writers: Jac and Zeptikye Warnings: Mentions of blood, sickness, and medication Pairing: Bakugo X Female Character All Chapters

“I’m what?” Katsuki demanded with a growl, holding a handful of crumpled peony petals.

“In love dear.” Recovery girl said politely as if it was a very simple thing. He curled his lip at her, wondering if the old woman had finally gone senile. “How does that- what- what does that have to do with anything?!” he demanded, “I’m freaking coughing up plants! No love involved.” he said angrily before being interrupted by another cough.

Recovery girl walked to her desk, and up onto a step ladder, taking down a very old looking book. “It’s called Hanahaki,  a bit of an older disease, with only a few recorded cases every year, but it’s a disease born out of unrequited and unexplored emotions.” she said, stepping back down the step ladder and walking to Katsuki.

Katsuki huffed as he crossed his arms, glaring at her and still thinking she was rather crazy... Despite her pointed jab at how his brain usually handled emotions as almost all of his emotions were either unexplored or unrequited.  Recovery girl sighed as she opened the book and handed it to him. “Sadly there is very little cure for it.”

The page was open to a diagram of the human body, long paragraphs of explanation on either side of the human form that had flowers twisting from the base of his lungs up through his throat … the image was unpleasant to say the least.

He grunted trying not to show the small amount of fear that had entered him as he realized the magnitude of his apparent sickness.. “Well how do I fix it, then?”

Recovery girl nodded quietly, “Well there is a surgery- a way to get rid of the flowers permanently, but it is very invasive and comes with its own risks.” she said morosely.”It involves open heart and lung surgery and even then the results are not always conclusive, if not done correctly the flowers could come back.” she explained.

“Then there’s medication- a way to slowly poison the flowers and dampen their growth, through small doses. Or there is the  easiest way- you can confess your feelings to the one you love and hope they return your admiration.” she suggested. “This dampens the unresolved feelings and the flowers then die on their own.” she told him logically.

Katsuki grunted. “ ‘Hope’? What happens if they don’t?” he demanded, a blush rising to his cheeks, “Don’t return your crappy feelings or whatever, I mean …” he clarified.

Recovery girl frowned, “Then nothing. The flowers keep growing through the painful emotions of rejection.” she explained sadly.

Katsuki felt the flower stems in his chest twist viciously at that thought, Katsuki thinning his lips and snarling quietly, that option didn’t sound worth the risk at all. “Then how soon can I get the d*mned surgery?”

Recovery girl frowned, “Well … if that is what you choose we can get it scheduled as soon as possible, but the flowers won't be the only thing you lose Bakugo.” she told him seriously. Katsuki arched a brow at her vague nature, huffing and choking back another cough. “What?”

“Your emotions for the person you have feelings for would all be gone. Good, bad, indifferent- you wouldn’t feel anything towards them anymore.” she expressed.”It is not a decision to be made lightly- it is something that will greatly affect your relationship with the person forever.”

The words made Katsuki pause, his jaw tightening. “S-so?” he tried. “We develop our own emotions in our freaking brain- that doesn’t have anything to do with the sh*tty flowers...” he tried to defend- so what if the surgery got rid of his emotions? Who needed them anyway- there were more important things to be concerned about, and it wasn’t like they couldn’t still be friends.

“ I wish that was the case Bakugo- …” Recovery girl said sadly  “But the medical side of it hasn’t all been figured out yet. There’s so few cases every year and even then even fewer people choose to actually go through with the surgery. Some people even believe it to be the side effect of someone’s quirk that has just gotten passed down long long ago, in which case there wouldn’t even really be a scientific explanation.” she told him, “But either way- past cases show that there is a one-hundred percent rate of people losing their emotions for the person.”

He thinned his lips, his scowl falling as he leaned back against the wall. “Oh..” he said thoughtfully ...

Recovery girl nodded, “Do you have any idea of who the flowers may be for dear? Confessing really is the least painful and easiest of the options in most cases.” Katsuki’s crossed arms tightened, biting his cheek as they flushed a dull pink. “Yeah… I think.”

Recovery girl raised a brow as if asking him to acknowledge it out loud. He narrowed his eyes at her as his lips twisted, huffing and looking away. Recovery girl sighed, tilting her head. “Do I have to start naming off your classmates? At least I assume it is one of them that you have developed feelings for”

Katsuki cursed quietly with a snarl. “No.” He said angrily- “why do I even have to tell you?!” he demanded even though he knew it was illogical. Recovery girl made a sound that could have been a laugh. “Only if you wish to live, deary. Now, let’s see.” she replied, shifting through a drawer and pulling out a small stack of folders, Katsuki’s eyes widened in embarrassment.

She flipped through them. “Not miss Ashido or Kaminari I’m presuming?”

“Stop!” Katsuki exclaimed, already turning a light red- “Like I would ever fall for those two extra’s-!” he exclaimed. She nodded. “Neither Sero I’m going to assume.” she inferred, Katsuki growling out another embarrassed ‘no!’ Recovery girl flipped through to another file, looking back up at him. “Mr. Kirishima is a fair guess, seeing as you two are rather close as well have experienced some considerable trauma together.”

Katsuki bristled at the fact that he and Kirishima would ever be anything more than best friends. “N-no! Okay! It’s a girl! For crying out loud-” he muttered angrily- feeling the flowers in his chest quiver and shake from his embarrassment, making him cough again.

Recovery Girl chuckled quietly with a nod, flipping the folder again and looking back up at him. “So that leaves Miss. [L/N].”

Katsuki blushed red at the sound of her name … he had known that he was falling in love with her for nearly the past year, even if he hadn’t recognized it as love at first- and now it seemed that his body was finally forcing him to admit it, another painful cough reminding him of the physical turmoil that now went along with the emotional one.

Recovery girl  nodded, handing him a rag as Katsuki coughed out another peony. “Seems like we’ve found our culprit then.”

Katsuki cursed, staring at the flower in his hands. “Well what the he** am I supposed to do about it!?” he demanded emotionally, “I can’t just confess to her after everything that’s been going on!” he growled without meaning to- hating that his fear of this sickness was making him lose control of his emotions like this.

Recovery Girl tilted her head. “Everything?” she prompted.

Katsuki growled, “I don’t have to explain anything to you.” he defended even though he knew it was unreasonable- his body telling himself through another aggressive stabbing feeling in his lungs. Recovery Girl frowned quietly in concern. “If you wish not to suffocate, it might be best to.” she soothed. “I am honestly just trying to help.” she reminded

Katsuki growled looking to the ground, his eyes watering from the lack of air- totally not from the wave of emotion crashing over him as he realized again that he was in love. He coughed violently again, Recovery girl mixing some sort of medicine in a glass of water before handing it to him and pressing a healing kiss to his cheek.

Katsuki took the medicine with a growl, downing it in one gulp and finally feeling a bit of relief … pausing for a second before glancing between her and the glass.

“What does the medication do?” he asked hesitantly, avoiding her last question. Recovery Girl set her hands on her knees as she sat back down. “The medication is supposed to slow down the effects by numbing your emotions for the individual. It will allow you to continue on with your normal activities while stunting the flowers' growth.”

Katsuki considered this thoughtfully for a bit … “So I’ll … still have feelings for her- they’ll just be dulled? And the flowers will die.” he recapped. Recovery girl sighed. “Possibly, or at least stave off the effects for a decent enough period until you either tell her or have the surgery. It’s a slim chance of a complete recovery, is what I’m saying.” she explained

Katsuki considered this for a moment, the medication wasn’t a permanent solution- but the idea of getting surgery to have the flowers removed made his heart ache in his chest … he just couldn’t bring himself to risk losing [Y/N]’s friendship like that.

He sighed, ducking his head and rubbing his eyes in frustration as he thought- overworking his brain and only interrupted by a loud commotion drifting into the room from the end of the hallway.

Recovery girl looked in that direction quickly before turning back to Katsuki with a calm smile on her face. “It sounds like someone else may need my help.” she said easily, “I can give you something to help you sleep and you can stay in the other room for tonight until you make your decision.” she offered. “I’ve already healed any of the serious internal bleeding caused by the flowers.” she told him.

Katsuki grunted, not liking to be rushed- but knowing he would need the length of the night at least to sort things out “Whatever.” he grumbled in agreement.

Recovery girl nodded, moving to her desk as Katsuki pulled himself to his feet, his mind swimming in thoughts.

His train of thought was broken by the sound of voices. “Recovery girl?!” he heard who he recognized to be Uraraka call out, the other voice with her coughing violently. The old woman looked outside the door in concern, handing him two small, white pills and shooing him into the other room.

He didn’t give pink cheeks much thought as he stepped into the next room, closing the door behind him and falling down onto the hospital bed with a heavy sigh. He had important things to think about.

The pills tasted bitter as he popped them into his mouth, Katsuki pulling himself up to sit as he downed them with the rest of the medicated water. After a few minutes longer, he heard a quiet tap at his door, Recovery Girl stepping inside.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to move you to a better suited spot, would you come with me?” she asked quietly, something in her tone cooling his annoyance before it had a chance to start.

Katsuki nodded, standing up to follow Recovery girl to another room, already feeling the pain in his throat begin to numb. He rubbed his throat, too lost in thought to notice the peachy-orange petal that stuck to the bottom of his shoe as he walked past.

…

“That should help the pain deary, and as you don’t want surgery or medication I can’t do much else for you.” Recover girl said as she handed [Y/N] a glass of water having just explained the full effects of what she was going through and her options for recovery. [Y/N] gave the old woman a thankful smile as her throat was too raw to actually form more words, wiping the tears from her eyes as she sipped from the cup.

“Do you know who could be causing you the flowers sweetheart? Sometimes the type of flower can help you figure it out.” she said helpfully. [Y/N] shook her head. “I.. I don’t know.” she murmured helplessly, setting down the empty cup to look down at the large flower head sitting innocently in her lap. Recovery girl nodded, “What don’t you know?” she prompted.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to determine- I’ve- … never done this before…”she said weakly. Recovery girl nodded, “Everyone has their first love at some point.” she said, “and nobody knows what they’re doing.” she said with a kind smile. “Did you ever have a crush when you were a child- someone who you just wanted to be around all the time or who you wanted to notice you?”

[Y/N] bit her lip, fumbling her hands together as she thought. “I… I had.. One friend.. Once- but I don’t think it was… love- w-well- maybe? I don’t really..know? ..um..” she stammered, her mind racing. “We were pretty young… and he ended up moving…” she said quietly.

Recovery girl nodded, “See, love wasn’t something you could explain back then. You were children.” she said kindly, “But that didn’t make that feeling of friendship and happiness any less real. And maybe given time you would have developed a relationship that would’ve lead to love. Like you potentially have now with someone.”

[Y/N] furrowed her brow. “B-but… I.. I don’t know how to distinguish romantic love from what’s maybe platonic love..?” she tried, biting her lip in shame at how juvenile that sounded.

Recovery girl nodded again, “Well that’s different for every person. Some people are comfortable spending lots of time and energy with and even being physically affectionate with close friends. While others reserve that right for someone they feel romantic attraction to.`` She tried her best to explain. “Can you think of any of your friends that you may be more likely to feel close to in a physical or emotional way than some of your other friends?” she asked.

[Y/N] chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought. “W-well.. I don’t know- I’m affectionate with Shoto and Kiri and sometimes Momo or Ochako or Deku or-...” [Y/N] paused, biting her tongue as she felt a flush of hot, flustered embarrassment fill her chest as she found she didn’t quite want to admit-

She sat straighter, her brain clicking as she looked wide-eyed at the old woman. “O-oh!” she exclaimed, her cheeks growing hotter. “I-is that what that feels like??!”

Recovery girl let out a small laugh, “Yes- I think so darling …” she said with a kind smile, “It’s different for everyone- no one right way to explain it.” [Y/N] blinked quickly, combing her hair away from her face and taking a shuddered breath. “O-oh..”

Recovery girl nodded softly, “Do you know who might be causing you the flowers now love?” she asked kindly, [Y/N] blushing softly. “I … I think so.” she nodded quietly. Recovery Girl tilted her head. “Do you think you could tell me?” she asked calmingly.

[Y/N] bit her lip, looking down at the flower in her lap, touching the petals quietly. “Um…”

“I- … I think- ... “ she felt tears sting at the back of her eyes- feeling stupid for crying over something so silly. “I think I’m in love with Bakugo.” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the flower in front of her. Recovery Girl was quiet for a moment or two. “You’re sure?”

[Y/N] sniffed softly, “No- but that's the only person I can think of!” she said desperately, coughing again. Recovery Girl nodded. “Well I would hope so.” she murmured, [Y/N] looking up in curious confusion.

Recovery girl only smiled kindly, taking another cup and filling it with water for her again while handing her a tissue. “Well then you know what you have to do to get rid of the flowers.” she said simply. [Y/N] nodded quietly, rubbing her face softly.

Recovery Girl hesitated for a moment. “For right now, however… I’m going to give you some of the medication- roses are… rather hazardous- the thorns have already done double the damage in just a day than one would normally experience in such a short time.. I don’t want it to get worse..”

[Y/N] sniffed, “Okay.” She agreed logically, already wondering how in the world she was supposed to confess to Katsuki freaking Bakugo.

// Thanks for Reading! Part one is uploaded on this blog and Part three should be out later this week, probably Wednesday!

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 26)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2237

Warnings: angst and language throughout, medical complications, blood, fighting, surgery

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @quailliamyfears, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

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

"Shit!" Christine cried out. 

"Y/N? Y/N?" Stephen tried, but you were out cold. "Help her."

"But your chest. It's wide open--"

"Help her!" he demanded.

"Jeez, alright! Alright!" She went out into the hall and pulled in another bed. She called out for a doctor and a few nurses to help you onto the bed before telling them to leave and get her two suture kits. 

By the time they returned, the other doctor had cut your pant leg off and was working to clean the wound and assess it.

"Some kind of foreign blade sliced all the way through her leg." 

"Yeah, he was stabbed in the chest," she informed before starting to work on him. 

Stephen apologized to Christine for the way he treated her and she asked what was going on and he explained his situation to her before finishing the sutures. 

"Is she almost done?" Stephen asked the other doctor as he started to get up.

"What? Where are you going?" Christine asked.

"Late for a cult meeting. Just help me up and help me get dressed." 

As she helped him with his robes, the doctor answered Stephen's question. "She'll be alright, but she's lost a hell of a lot of blood. Her pants are beyond soaked in blood. I think she has a concussion," he said, recalling when he looked at your pupils. "She needs to stay overnight. How the hell is she alive?"

Christine looked from you to Stephen. The answer was clear - you had stayed alive for him. 

“She needs to stay here, Stephen,” Christine insisted. “I’ll take care of her.”

You suddenly gasped awake. 

Stephen was at your side instantly. “Hey there,” he greeted, his face painted with love and compassion. “Hey, you lost a lot of blood so they want to keep you overnight, but I’ve got to go back to the sanctum. I’ll come visit you as soon as--”

“What? No. Fuck no. I’m coming with you,” you insisted.

“You can’t. You need to stay here.” 

“Why?”

“Well, first of all I’m not done stitching you up,” the doctor that was working on you said. 

“Well, I see three doctors in this room. Maybe someone can stitch the back while the other stitches the front, but I am coming with you Stephen, like it or not. I still have the sling ring and you’ll have to tear it off my body to get it.” You glared at him and he held up his hands in surrender. 

Christine gave a look to the other doctor before she jumped in and you turned on your side, letting the doctors work on you from either side. 

The second you were entirely stitched up, you and Stephen made for the portal. He said his goodbyes to Christine as you stood off to the side, letting it happen. He showed her the portal before saying he really had to go. You stepped inside, and offered your hand. Once inside, you closed the portal and passed the ring to him.

He encountered the man that had attacked you and checked his pulse - he was dead. Stephen gave you a look of dread before reaching up to grab the cloak. It attached itself to him and the two of you continued walking down the hall.

"Strange! Y/N! You're okay. 

"A relative term, but yeah, I’m okay."

"The Cloak of Levitation. It came to you."

The Ancient One suddenly said, "No minor feat. It’s a fickle thing."

"He’s escaped," Stephen informed. 

The Ancient One asked, "Kaecilius?" 

"Yeah. He can fold space and matter at will."

"He folds matter outside the mirror dimension? In the real world?"

"Yeah."

"How many more?" The Ancient One asked. 

"Two. I stranded one in the desert."

"And the other?"

"His body was in the hall. Master Drumm was in the foyer."

Mordo replied, "He’s been taken back to Kamar-Taj."

The Ancient One informed, "The London Sanctum has fallen. Only New York and Hong Kong remain now to shield us from the Dark Dimension. You defended the New York Sanctum from attack. With its Master gone, it needs another, Master Strange."

Your eyes went to Stephen, analyzing his face, his response. 

"No," he said defiantly as he turned towards her. "It is Dr. Strange. Not Master Strange, not Mr. Strange, Doctor Strange. When I became a doctor, I swore an oath to do no harm. And I have just killed a man! I’m not doing that again. I became a doctor to save lives, not take them."

Sympathy hit your heart quickly as you saw him be torn apart by the actions he just had to take. Stephen might've been a bit cold, a bit uncaring in his bedside manner, but the fact remained that he did save lives and he did it well. And it was clear now that he didn't ever want to fail in saving a life, let alone be the reason for taking one. 

"You become a doctor to save one life above all others -- your own," The Ancient One Quipped. 

"Still seeing through me, are you?" Stephen asked as he got closer to her. 

"I see what I’ve always seen -- your over-inflated ego. You want to go back to the delusion that you can control anything, even death, which no one can control. Not even the great Doctor Stephen Strange."

"Not even Dormammu? He offers immortality."

"It’s our fear of death that gives Dormammu life. He feeds off it."

"Like you feed on him? You talk to me about controlling death. Well, I know how you do it. I’ve seen the missing rituals from The Book of Cagliostro."

"Measure your next words very carefully, doctor," The Ancient One warned.

"Because you might not like them?" he challenged.

"Because you may not know of what you speak," she clarified.

"What is he talking about?" Mordo asked, and your eyes were simply going from each talking person. He hadn't divulged this with you but now that he had, it was starting to make a bit of sense and you felt... betrayed. 

"I’m talking about her long life, the source of her immortality. She draws power from the Dark Dimension to stay alive."

"That’s not true," Mordo defended.

"I’ve seen the rituals and worked them out. I know how you do it," Stephen informed.

She didn't seem to respond to this, all she said was, "Once they regroup, the zealots will be back. You’ll need reinforcements."

"She is not who you think she is," Stephen said as he started to walk away.

"You don’t have the right to say that. You have no idea of the responsibility that rests upon her shoulders."

"No, and I don’t want to know."

"You’re a coward," Mordo said and this made you straighten up, ready to fight him. 

"Because I’m not a killer?" Stephen questioned, turning around, pressing him for an answer.

"These zealots will snuff us all out, and you can muster the strength to snuff them out first?"

"What do you think I just did?" Stephen asked, his voice getting volumes louder.

"You saved your own life! And then whined about it like a wounded dog."

"When you would have done it so easily?" he challenged.

"You have no idea the things I’ve done…And the answer is yes. Without hesitation."

"Even if there’s another way?"

"There is no other way," Mordo vowed.

"You lack imagination," he accused.

"No, Stephen. You lack a spine."

"Hey, we just had to fight for our lives here and we had no way to prepare ourselves. No one told us what we were up against here. You left Stephen defenseless," you accused. 

"We gave Stephen all the necessary tools to arm himself, but he couldn't because he was too busy arming his ego, as always," Mordo replied.

You were about to lay into him when Stephen turned to you.

"He's actually right. He was right all along. They did give me the tools, but I couldn't see them because of you." He turned to you, a sort of realization in his voice. 

"What?" you asked. 

"I was distracted by you. They warned me about that, but because of you, I couldn't focus on my work. I had to entertain you. I'm not a baby sitter. You knew we were coming here to fix my hands, but you had to make it about being soulmates again. Well guess where that got us, Y/N? In the hospital. I couldn't even focus on fighting for my life because I was too busy concerning myself with you. That won't happen again. All you've done since I met you was distract me from my one goal - getting my hands fixed and getting my job back."

You stood there, shocked to your core. 

How could he be saying this? This couldn't be true. None of this could be true. He loved you, he said he did. That couldn't have changed. He wouldn't have lied about that.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you avoided his haunting gaze. "You don't mean that."

"I don't say things I don't mean. When have you ever known me to hide exactly how I am feeling?" he challenged, knowing full well all of you in the room knew the truth. 

"Never," you whispered. 

"Right. This time is no different. You've held me back, and I won't let it happen any longer."

"Stephen--"

"Now, please. I don't like having to fight with you to get you to leave me alone. I've done it too many times, it's exhausting. So please, do me a favor, and get the hell away from me, and get out of my life." 

If he'd slapped you in the face, it would've hurt less.

He opened a portal and you saw your bedroom at Kamar-Taj. "Feel free to grab your things. You barged into my life, I suspect you can walk out of it just fine?" He raised his eyebrows at you and it took everything in you to keep from sobbing on the spot. 

For fear of talking, you just nodded and stepped through the portal. You turned to look at him, but as soon as your eyes made contact, he looked as if he hated you and he closed the portal, making you collapse on the bed in tears. 

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

After you gathered your senses, you packed all your things. You approached Wong in the library. You told him that if Stephen did anything dangerous, or reckless, or even if he went back home to contact you. He could tell you'd been crying, he looked down at your phone number curiously, but  ultimately decided to say nothing. He just agreed to call you. 

Wong helped you get a taxi to the airport and you got the first flight that would get you home. 

All you could think of was the way this felt like when Charles disappeared. That heartbreak. That crushing feeling on your chest. The way you couldn't breathe. The feeling of not knowing what you'd done wrong. 

How had everything fallen apart so quickly? Just yesterday you two were happy, blissful. You had both he and Charles. 

Now, you were returning home with one soulmate rejecting you. 

How? How coudld he do this to you? He seemed so in love. The way he held you. The way he woke up beside you. The way he stared at you as you worked. The way he did anything you asked of him, even if sometimes it took a bit of coaxing or fighting. The way he worshipped you physically. The way he finally seemed to believe in soulmates. 

How could he go from making a romantic date on the beaches of Bora Bora, and surprising you with dances in your bedroom, and teasing you at dinner time about how you ate your food to... to this. To casting you out as if you were trash after trying to save his life. You risked your life for his and it came so easy for him to tell you to get away.

He finally showed his true colors. He didn't want you. He just wanted his hands fixed. You were blind enough -- stupid enough -- to believe he wanted anything else. He just wanted someone to fill whatever stupid role he needed in his life and you were pathetic enough to do it. 

He used you and you couldn't see it. 

He had told you from the beginning he didn't want this. He wanted the control to choose a mate. Even the Ancient One had seen it. Stephen wanted to control life and death, of course he wanted to control who he loved. Maybe he lied about Christine too, about not loving her any more. 

He was wearing her watch into Nepal. You were just the buddy that tagged along.

That's all you were to him, a dead weight he wanted to rid himself of. 

Finally, you were at the front door of the mansion. You pulled out your key but before you could get it in the hole, the door opened.

Charles stood there, looking pressed and smart as always. 

"Y/N?" he greeted, highly confused as to why you were here without warning. He was thrilled to see you, but you hadn't given word you were coming home.  

You simply fell into his arms and he caught you. The sobs finally hit you, hard, and he held onto you.

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

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[banditthewriter]

Under Pressure - Bucky Barnes

Prompt: A request please! I’m a sucker for angst with a happy ending. Could I have Bucky Barnes x reader in which the reader hides a nasty injury from the team until she knows everybody is safe. Then she collapses and they think she’ll die, Bucky super sad and angsty, but she pulls through because my heart can’t take full angst. I hope that makes sense. Super massive thankyou if you decide to do it!! Xxx Prompter: @s-trawberryv-eins​​

Warning: Injury sustained in battle?

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

“Brace yourselves,” you heard over comms before the building was rocked by another explosion. It sounded like Nat, but your ears were ringing so you could be wrong.

“North wing is demolished,” came the reply from probably-Sam. “How we looking on the south wing?”

How were you looking? You had blood dripping down your fingers and your head was only attached by sheer force of will it felt like. One or two guards lay dead or unconscious behind you, but they weren’t your focus. Your focus was on the thumb drive in your pocket.

“Still standing,” Cap replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm directed at whoever just leveled the north wing. “Y/N, did you get the files? We’ve got to hit the rendezvous point of Natasha might leave us.”

“I’d never leave you. You owe me twenty bucks for this outcome of this mission.”

You took a deep breath and activated your comm.

“Files are a go. Meet at the rendezvous in ten.”

You hoped it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes to get to the rendezvous point. You were in pain and bleeding, but you knew you had to succeed. This mission was critical and you had your part to play.

“Where is everyone else? Sound off.”

Each member of the team sounded off their location. Stark was providing cover for the team as they left the compound. Sam was about to head out to the rendezvous. Cap himself was halfway to the jet. Natasha and Clint were waiting for everyone to arrive. And Bucky was… apparently outside of the south wing, waiting for you.

“You look rough,” he said in a low voice, his comm off so that it didn’t echo over everyone else. “C’mon, sounds like Sam is injured pretty badly. And we still haven’t heard from Wanda so we’re not sure what her status is yet.”

You steeled yourself and tucked your hand into your pocket so that he wouldn’t see the massive blood loss. You could survive this without trouble. If Sam was injured badly and Wanda was missing, they needed to be the priorities. Obviously you were still moving under your own steam so you weren’t worried about yourself.

Mostly. The fact that your vision was blurred and your hearing was set in an echo made you think that maybe you should move yourself up a little higher on that list.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to do it,” Bucky said as the two of you darted out of the building and into the cover of the trees. “When Steve said you were the one getting the files. I thought it should be Tasha.”

Because you weren’t an assassin like they were. Because you didn’t have any special powers or cool suits or gadgets. You were a spy, good enough at your job that you joined the Avengers on missions, but apparently Bucky still didn’t think you were capable.

“I appreciate the confidence,” you said as you tried not to stumble over the terrain. “Check in with Cap and see if they’ve found Wanda or if they need us to look.”

You’d do it but honestly your vision was starting to go dark. You could see the jet in the distance and just tried as hard as you could to make it there without passing out.

“Says she’s back in one piece. Sam’s injuries aren’t that bad either. Mission was successful.”

You were grateful. Your hand went to your pocket and felt the ridge of the thumb drive. It was almost done, almost over. Once you were back at headquarters you could head to the medical wing and get fixed up. Maybe you’d have to be off missions for a while, but that’s okay. You could catch up on some of your paperwork that way.

“Did you hear me?”

You turned and looked at Bucky. He’d said something, but you didn’t catch it. Instead of waiting for you to respond, he continued to speak.

“We need to talk when we get back to the tower. There’s some things I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, but it was never the right time.”

He wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t be on missions. You weren’t an Avenger, you weren’t trained, you weren’t special. You didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what he’d have to say. Instead of answering, you merely kept up your trek to the jet.

Once there, he hit the button to open the stairs and let you go up first. Your hand clenched at your side as a wave of pain and dizziness went over you. But he followed you up, the door closed. And once you were both in the main part of the jet, you heard Natasha make a comment about taking off.

The take off always made you wobble so you used that as an excuse to hold on to the wall. In the middle of the jet was a table that was bolted to the floor. The others were already on their debrief so you ignored Bucky’s confused look and headed that way as well.

“And here we have our unsung hero. Thumb drive intact?”

You’d usually have a snarky comment for Stark, the two of you often dueled with wits, but you didn’t have it in you. You scanned the faces and did a mental count. Everyone was there, everyone was in one piece. Although your plan had been to wait until you got to headquarters, you finally accepted the fact that you weren’t going to make it there in one piece yourself.

With your bloodied hand, you pulled out the thumb drive and slapped it onto the table. It left a red handprint on the expensive screen, but no one cared about that. Every single one of the people around the table were immediately on you, asking if you were injured and how bad it was.

You didn’t have time to answer before your vision finally went black. The last thing you remembered was falling into someone’s arms, a cool metal hand wrapping around your arm as you drifted into unconsciousness.

------

“She lost a lot of blood,” the doctor explained to the team that huddled in the waiting room at the tower’s medical wing. “Her arm was almost torn off. And there was massive head trauma. We’ve repaired the arm but we’ll have to wait and see if the swelling will go down.”

Steve and Tony thanked the doctor and then immediately had to shield her when a loud crash made everyone on alert. The source of the noise came from a rather large dent in the concrete wall, a metal fist in the middle of it. Bucky faced the wall, his back solid and tense. Nat gave everyone a stern look and shooed the rest of the team from the room. 

Tony escorted the doctor with a promise that everything was going to be fine. All that left in the room was Steve and Bucky.

Steve had watched his friend stand sentinel at the door during the life saving surgery. He’d seen how careful Buck had been when she’d collapsed into his arms. He watched the flurry of emotions cross over his friend’s face as they waited for word of her survival.

He’d known for a while now how Bucky felt about Y/N. Hell, they all probably knew how he felt about her. All except her. And it was the same for her. It was obvious that she cared for the reformed assassin, but it was also obvious that she thought she wasn’t good enough.

Perhaps that wasn’t helped by the fact that Bucky had a habit of saying the wrong things around her. What would have been a funny situation had become dire when Steve realized that Bucky’s comments made it sound like Y/N wasn’t fit for the work she did.

She was right up there with Natasha at being good at her job. She was quick, clever, and just as deadly as the rest of the team. The only difference was that she did it all on her own, two hands and no back up. Natasha had been the same way, but she had the team now. Y/N operated on her own usually.

It was why Steve had started to pull her into missions more. He didn’t want her to do this alone. None of them needed to be alone anymore. The Avengers was about more than just superheroes. It was about ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances and overcoming them.

Tony Stark made it out of the middle of a desert with his mind and some scrap metal. Steve had let people perform a possibly dangerous experiment on him and came out on the other side. Bucky had gone to war and came back mangled, brainwashed, and damaged in ways no one else could understand. Sam had gone from a peaceful life right back into the fray with his wings and a belief that there had to be a reason for it all.

Steve walked over to where Bucky stood, his fist still in the hole he’d made of the cement wall.

“She’ll come through,” he promised as he put a cautious hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I should have noticed she was hurt when I found her in the south wing. If I’d noticed–”

“Don’t do that Buck, don’t think about what ifs. This is where we are now. We gotta go from here.”

It was something Steve had learned the hard way.

He gave Bucky’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. The room behind them was like a beacon and Steve turned to look at it for a long moment. Then he left Bucky alone with his thoughts for the time being.

Only time would tell.

------

“Ow.”

Your eyes wouldn’t open despite how many times you demanded it. When you reached up to try to find out why, your arm seemed to scream in protest. Something cool was pressed against your hand and it took a moment to realize what it was.

A hand, a metal hand. Bucky.

“Bucky?”

“I’m here,” he said from above you. His hand wrapped around yours gently. “Try not to move too much. Your arm is still healing. If you move too much, your nerves won’t reattach.”

Reattach. Because you’d almost lost your arm. You briefly remembered hearing the doctor say that your arm had almost been ripped off. And you definitely remembered the pain from the injury. But it was still attached, still worked enough to feel his hand wrapped around yours.

Had he ever touched you before? Like this. You honestly couldn’t remember.

“I can’t see,” you said timidly, scared for the reply.

“It’s gauze. You have a bad concussion and the doctor doesn’t want you assaulted with the light.”

Oh thank god. You weren’t sure you could have handled any other option.

You tried to focus on your body, made easier by the lack of sight. Sore from your feet to your head, but nothing felt too bad. Even your arm only hurt a little when you moved a certain way. The pain in your head was from the concussion but that would go away in time. 

That just left the pain and shame from the mission.

“I know I messed up,” you said in a voice thick with emotion. “I should have told someone immediately that I was injured but I wanted to make sure none of the actual team was hurt first. I shouldn’t have kept it quiet. I should’ve–”

Flesh fingers were pressed to your mouth to stem the flow of your words. You inhaled deeply and tried not to shake at the touch.

“You gotta stop thinking that you’re not part of this team. You’re one of us, an Avenger, and we take care of each other.”

Thankfully the gauze was there to soak up your tears. It wasn’t just that he was saying the words you’d longed to hear, but there was something else in his voice. Something that you had heard in all the things he’d said before but had never really paid attention to before.

“You were worried about me.”

Fingers traced over the curve of your cheek.

“Remember how I said there were some things that I wanted to say to you? I realized that I’ve waited too long to tell you so I need to show you instead.”

You weren’t sure what he could mean by that, especially since you couldn’t see at that moment. But you didn’t have long to wonder.

Lips pressed to yours, soft and chaste. You raised your uninjured hand to hold him closer, your fingers in his hair as you continued the kiss. You had so many questions, so many things you needed to know, but you also had so much closure in that moment.

You were part of the team. And you take care of each other.

X

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[kdramas-ruined-my-life]

literally can see hwanghan from almost everything on that prompt list but number 20 please! also very much looking forward to the last chapter AHHHHHHH

Thanks for the prompt @secret-forested! I hope you like it! (Also thanks for being my beta for my other fic! <3) I will post this on Ao3 as part of a collection of prompts soon!

////

It had been two days since her heart stopped beating...or at least since it felt like it had stopped beating. The Yongsan police team had called her up to consult on a recent case and of course she called up a certain prosecutor’s advice.

Yeo-Jin and the Yongsan team had arrived at the suspects house when they heard a loud gunshot. Rushing inside, they found the suspect holding a gun and a familiar prosecutor lying on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding his torso as he laid on the ground.

As the other police apprehended the suspect, Yeo-Jin had rushed to Hwang Si-Mok’s side her hands finding the wound on his abdomen and applying pressure, hoping to stop the bleeding. But there was too much bleeding.

By the time the ambulance had arrived, Si-Mok was barely conscious. She had ridden in the hospital with him, her fingers tightly clasped around his. He had undergone surgery, which was successful, but he had fallen into a coma. That was two days ago.

Tightening her grip on his hand, the woman looked at the man lying on the hospital bed in front of her, the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor filling the room. It reminded her of those couple years ago when she was called to the hospital and first discovered his medical condition. It felt like ages ago.

Lifting her free hand, the woman brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. After two days at the hospital, his hair lacked its typical volume, but she was amused to find that without product, his hair became wavy. She found it very endearing.

Moving her hand from his soft hair, she settled it on the side of his face, her thumb brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbone and the strong set of his jaw. She knew if Si-Mok was awake, that he’d shy away from her touch, and she probably should have stopped but she found that she couldn’t. He was so beautiful. She could sit all day, staring at him as she watched his long eyelashes flutter in his sleep.

She wished she could tell him how much she appreciated him. How much she cared for him. She had almost lost him two days ago and she couldn’t bear the thought of a world without him.

After thinking for some time, the woman came to the conclusion that she needed to at least say the words out loud for her own sake so that she could maybe move on from her probably unrequited feelings. Besides, he was asleep so she would be able to avoid the risk of losing their friendship.

“You know. I think I instantly trusted you from the beginning. It’s strange. I’ve never trusted anyone as quickly as you,” the woman explained as she continued rubbing a circular motion on the side of his face with her thumb, secretly delighting in how his skin felt against her finger.

“It was as if I felt something innate telling me that you and I were meant to find each other and to stand side by side with each other. I know...if you were awake you’d contradict me or state some sort of fact about trust and what not, but it’s true.”

Yeo-Jin felt a single tear roll down her cheek as she fought to keep her emotions at bay, the strength of her emotions overwhelmed her, keeping her from noticing the quickening of the beeping coming from the heart rate monitor.

“I missed you. I missed you when we separated the first time a couple years ago. I found myself wondering every day what you were doing and why we didn’t keep in touch. And then fate pulled us back together through the council meetings and I was back by your side. And then we were separated again. But we’re together now. I’m right by your side. Sure, I wish it was under better circumstances, but I’m glad that you are alive and with me.”

The woman let out a short laugh as she briefly withdrew her hand, brushing away tears with the back of her hand befor returning it once more to her beloved prosecutor’s face.

“We always find our way back to each other,” Yeo-Jin stated with a smile on her face, “But I don’t know if I can separate from you again not knowing about how you are and if you’re okay. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“So don’t,” a voice rough from lack of use came from the bed in front of her.

“Si-Mok!” the woman exclaimed as she felt the grip on her hand tighten and watched as the prosecutor’s eyes fluttered open, “You’re awake!”

Reluctantly letting go of his hand, the woman jumped up from the chair she had dragged to the side of his bed and got a cup of water. Placing one hand being his head, she brought her other hand up, tilting the glass of water to his lips and watching as he took a large sip of the refreshing liquid.

Han Yeo-Jin laid his head back down and was about to get up to call the nurses when she felt Si-Mok’s hand grip hers, preventing her from moving from his side. The woman looked to him in question.

“I heard what you said,” Si-Mom stated, his gaze intently fixed on hers.

“You did?” the woman commented as she focused her gaze on anywhere but him, suddently apprehensive of what he was going to say.

“I agree”

“What?” the woman asked, her gazing flying towards his, desperate to gain any insight into what he meant.

“I agree,” Si-Mok began, a warm look in his eyes, “I do not want to part from you not knowing how you are or if you are safe and well.”

Yeo-Jin opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She was absolutely shocked. Sure she thought that there was some affection on his side, probably platonic affection, but was he actually saying what she thought he was saying?

The man squeezed her hand in his as he brought his other hand to rest on top of their intwinded hands. There was a slight look of apprehension in his eyes, a stark contrast from the confident, strong grip he had on her hand.

“Maybe...” Si-Mok began l, his gaze fixed onto hers, “Maybe we don’t have to say goodbye anymore.”

Yeo-Jin was still in shock that he had returned her (unrequited) feelings. Her throat felt completely dry as if she was the one who had just woken up from a coma. Knowing that she had no way to express how happy she was through words, the female inspector picked up their joined hands and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, watching as the man took in a sharp breath, a small smile forming on his lips.

“I’d like that,” she responded.

The small smile on his face grew into the largest smile she had ever seen, not just on him but on anyone. She felt her own lips unconsciously mirroring his into a full smile. Pressing another kiss to his hand, the woman felt an overwhelming sense of happiness and peace.

Sure, they had just narrowly missed a terrifying situation, and there would definitely be more in the future. It was the nature of their jobs. And these acknowledged emotions were new for both of them. It would take time to adjust.

But with his hand in hers and the promise that they’d never say goodbye, Yeo-Jin felt as if she could face the world and anything it threw at her. Because as she found out such a long time ago, there was no safer place than right by his side.

[ohhoworiginalrfaheadcanons]

Since we discussed it: RFA with American MC lol o/

Okay, lemme do this. I find 2nd person pretty cringy so I'll avoid using it if I can. Also, I'm not that knowledgeable about Korean culture, so I can't really go too in depth about possible culture clashes. It took me a while to try to think of everything I could for that.

RFA reactions to an MC who's American

~Yoosung~

That's definitely not what he expected at all! Admittedly, in retrospect some of Seven's comments were probably hinting at that. He's still taken aback when he first sees her though. He'd stopped thinking of her as Rika a while before seeing her, sure, but without any hints as to what she looked like other than that, he'd left it as 'vaguely Rika shaped'.

It's fine, because she thinks he's cute, but she's as tall as he is! He chooses not to acknowledge her being taller by half an inch, because he doesn't measure by those and therefore that makes it completely fair to ignore it when she points it out. They are the same height.

He's kind of out of his depth, even considering how out of his depth he would be anyway just having a girlfriend, but...his perfect world is LOLOL and everyone is equal in LOLOL! Therefore, even if his girlfriend is kind of weird, he's willing to make the effort to get through that! Plus, her accent (she can't even tell she has one) is cute. On the other hand, he's so bad at speaking English that he can only bring himself to mumble it. It's hard to believe she isn't teasing him about it when she calls it cute.

But he lives for compliments from his girlfriend, so she'd best believe he keeps on trying. They still mostly communicate in Korean, but he eventually gets a bit more confident about speaking in English to her. If only in private. At first he tries to use it to tell secret mushy things to her...but then like half of the RFA understood him when he tried it at one of the parties, so. uh. never again.

His taste in food is also atrocious, so honestly, he doesn't find her foreign tastes to be that weird. Together they even organize a raid on Seven's place to steal a box of HBC chips, and then they both pretend that Seven didn't just let them do it. (Why does she know how to say 'I want to be your cat' in Arabic? YOOSUNG HAS SO MANY QUESTIONS)

He's super interested in some of the imported stuff she brought with her when she moved, especially the video games. Most of them are already available in Korea, obviously, but a true gaming connoisseur like himself enjoys comparing the differences between releases! Plus, it's easier to play co-op games with her when she doesn't need to think about how to translate certain instructions or things like that.

Speaking of her things, one time he found a book by her bedside with an interesting looking cover. It seemed to be a sequel book and the writing was too complex for him to really follow along very well, though. He had a pretty good idea the handcuffs on the cover weren't because it was a detective novel judging by the reaction she had when she caught him reading it. He got too flustered to even try to read it after that.

They visit her family back home sometimes, and he's always super excited whenever they do. There's so much food! Why do they sell burgers this big?! Why is everything so big? He doesn't really travel much aside from those family trips, so it's a nice change of pace. Even if her brother-in-law is taller than him. damn it-

At one point, she suggests they cosplay Superman and Lois Lane, but it's so awkward for him to pick her up princess-style given their relative heights that he chickens out. She cosplays as Wonder Woman instead, and honestly he thinks her as an amazon tying him-tying bad guys up with a golden rope is hotter than her as a reporter anyway.

He doesn't really grasp that American isn't a 'race', and brags about her anyway, despite her laughing every time he does.

~Zen~

It's dumb, but his first thought on seeing she's foreign is a moment of panic that he won't fit her tastes after all (despite the fact that she's already seen his selfies).

That's complete nonsense, though, because his beauty shines through cultural barriers. Hers does, too, and while he was admittedly imagining something else, he's absolutely immediately enchanted with her anyway. She's cute and beautiful and different from anyone else around him, and honestly perfect. He hadn't actually noticed the accent before when they were on the phone, but it doesn't bother him now that it's a bit more obvious.

He can't speak English if his life depended on it, so he trusts whatever she mutters to herself when she rolls her eyes or looks way too amused about something is all flattering. It's definitely flattering, because obviously it is. She does suggest that he should learn it, though, just so he can potentially broaden his horizons and reach a broader audience. He doesn't need the confidence boost or anything, but it does feel good to see her swoon over his attempts.

When she said she could keep up with him drinking, he hadn't realized it was because she just happened to be much bigger than he expected, closer to his size. Actually, though, she can take her liquor like a champ, even more than he expected. She claims it's something about college, but won't tell any stories about it other than that 'it was a crazy time'. It's fair. He had a crazy time in his past, himself.

He doesn't really care for some of the food she likes, but then again he'd eat anything if it meant eating with her, so it's not really an issue.

It takes a long time to go visit her parents, since they live over in the US, but he can't say that he hates them being starstruck when he arrives. The only trouble is that they keep trying to speak Korean to him and are so bad at it he can't really tell what they're saying. Given his personal grasp on English, she ends up having to do most of the communication as the translator, but it's a pleasant visit anyway and it makes him all the more determined to get his parents to accept her.

Which isn't made any easier by the fact that she's not Korean. To say his mother is 'displeased' would be an understatement. But he's not really new to disappointing her, so he won't give up, not on his relationship with his true love and not on fixing his relationship with his parents.

Obviously gossip mags go crazy about it. Famous actor Zen dates a strange foreigner girl! Love that transcends the barriers of culture, or something more sinister?!

It's not so bad until certain catty fans get involved. The fact that she doesn't look 'beautiful' enough for the Gorgeous Zen eventually erupts through the fandom, with all sorts of nasty comments coming up because of her foreign appearance. She handles it well, but he loses it and almost makes a public scene the time someone called her a giant ugly ogre. In the end, he decides to make a point of informing interviewers how beautiful she is during all future interviews. It's petty, but that's him.

It actually boosts his popularity, being the Romantic Zen who's hopelessly in love with his girlfriend.

Her fashion taste is atrocious, though. He doesn't know how to break it to her. It's just bad! Even if it's trendy in the US...he just doesn't like it...

They might be a bad influence on each other, since their drinking competitions seem to get out of hand and sometimes lead to Jumin or 707 collecting them in a place neither of them even remember going to.

She eats like some kind of a gorilla without any concern for politeness, and apparently without even realizing that's what she's doing, but it's honestly so cute to him that he doesn't mind. That said, it's not the best thing for his heart when she accidentally disrespects one of his directors in front of the whole crew. He manages to recover, but that particular cultural difference catches him off guard.

For the most part, though, her little quirks and differences just enchant him more. After all, she's his perfect princess, and she already was before they'd ever even met.

~Jumin~

He admittedly had something of a suspicion that she might be foreign or mixed, as he heard the difference in her voice when on the phone with her. He's still a little surprised to open the door and see just what she looks like, though.

Of course his English is flawless, as he needs to be able to converse internationally for business, and Chinese and English are essentially a requirement for that. He can't say he isn't pleased when she determines his 'English voice' (whatever that's supposed to mean) is 'sexy'...but he's also pretty sure she's the first one to think that.

His experience overseas means that he immediately recognizes that her disrespect to his father when they meet is unintentional. It's still cute, to him. As is her obvious mortification when Jaehee pulls her aside to explain. His own insult, however, is entirely intentional when his father starts planning plastic surgery appointments to 'bring her appearance more in line'.

Her bluntness is something that he heartily appreciates, and it honestly makes him more comfortable to know that he needn't worry about avoiding offending her by being direct as he prefers to be. She's not technically part of the company, but the idea does amuse him to make her one and bring her along to negotiations. They could play good cop-bad cop. (That particular line of thought travels off into imagining her in a police woman's uniform, and then he loses the train of thought entirely)

He thinks her taste in food is quirky, but his palate is somewhat expansive when it comes to international cuisine, so it works out just fine with him. Any food that he eats alongside her is food that he enjoys, so the issue is moot.

Apparently, the rumor magazines go wild every time she appears with him somewhere, but he never bothers to read those, so he has no idea what they have to say about her. If it's anything damaging, he trusts Jaehee to deal with it. It's probably for the best, because if he did catch any of the rude things they say about the gold digging foreign wife of the director of C&R, his policy of ignoring hateful comments would not hold up long.

That said, really the biggest culture clashes and shock come not from her American raising, but from her being poor. Most of what she learned about Korean culture before moving over just didn't touch on what the very rich and famous would be like.

~Jaehee~

Of the many things she had considered about her fellow female member of the RFA, that she might be a foreigner isn't one of them. Maybe she should have noticed from the little quirks in chat...but...no, everyone in the RFA is bizarre and always has been.

It suddenly makes sense why MC couldn't really understand what Jaehee was going through at work, and why MC hadn't been familiar with Zen! But that's just fine, because it means Jaehee gets the opportunity to introduce MC to all the more Zen things together!

She's not sure if she should be offended when the woman compares her cafe to Starbucks....but if she's compared to anything, it may as well be Starbucks. And it does give her the idea to make Zen-themed drinks, which means basking in his beauty at work while also helping to contribute to his popularity. Although, admittedly, it did more for her cafe than him.

She's occasionally mortified by the MC's unintentional rudeness, but more often than not her greatest concern to unexpected rudeness is finding a way to stifle her amused laughter. The sheer confusion on her ex-boss's face the first time it happens to him gets her through some of the rough times trying to set up and keep the business afloat.

She's not particularly good at English, but she's a fast learner, and even though the MC can speak Korean reasonably well, she wants to be able to speak in English too, so that they can both speak in their native languages when they want to. It means their cafe is bilingual, which makes it a tourist spot, which means that Zen actually can get extra exposure from it! She's as excited about that as the MC is.

She's less excited when the MC finally makes she and Jumin sit across each other and "talk about your problems or else". That's an awkward conversation she really could have done without. But...well, it's only inevitable MC's special kind of bluntness would eventually lead to something like that.

It goes better than she expects, actually, and the tension that's been zapping around them since that party finally goes away.

It goes too well.

He starts suggesting that they convert it to a cat cafe.

Oh no.

~707~

He could tell immediately from the moment he looked at the camera footage, which admittedly made the background check a little harder. It's fine though, because he did it several times, and now knows her family tree, GPA, and what boat her family got off on some hundred years ago.

The jig is up immediately, because he's a huge nerd and just immediately spoke in English when he called. He's fluent, obviously, but he doesn't get enough opportunities to practice, so now he can try out the 'cool' phrases he's come up with, and try to get rid of the pesky accent that gets in the way of certain assignments.

He doesn't tell anyone because it's way funnier for everyone to be confused when they come to the party and see someone they don't expect. He even offers a cute looking model to use as a messenger icon just to throw people off more.

He is way too excited the first time she comes home and said "Lucy, I'm home~!" - the fact that she's not an old fossil and thus actually didn't ever watch it in her life doesn't seem to matter to him.

At one point he playfully suggests that USA sinks actually have PhD Pepper running through their pipes instead of water, but she gets him back by saying she prefers doh-ritos to honey buddha chips. He's horrified and declares her tastes are never to be trusted again.

In reality, though, their tastes align pretty closely. Heavily greasy and extra sweet food with zero nutritional value are his heaven (she insists there's plenty of nutritional value. He pretends he doesn't hear her.)

For the most part, it's no different for him where the MC is from, because he doesn't exactly fit in himself and he's been all over the place anyway. The only significant conflict between them due to cultural differences came from when he decided to show up at her place and then immediately turn the cold shoulder and try to push her away.

He almost died.

She's terrifying.

~V~

He can't see a difference

he's blind

im kidding, i just don’t know v enough to include him

[boogiewrites]

No. 9: The Body CH. 6

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary:  Eve explores the limits of her power. Diego is still stalking her and finds out more about her. Eve meets Klaus.

Warnings/Tags: Klaus. Talk of past trauma and phobias. Brief mentions of illness, injury and death. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

Eve had begun to notice changes in her shape from the training. Work wasn’t as strenuous and honestly, her ass was looking fantastic. Her body was adapting but she felt she wasn’t exercising her mind enough. Out of the two, trying to use her mind and powers was harder to find time for since it was so draining. Using them at work in small increments to help things along was now manageable, but there were no visible results from it. Nothing she could look at, try to heal, and then see healed. So that’s where she started.

Eve wasn’t a stranger to doing illegal things. If you took a look at her juvenile record that would be clear. What she was doing wasn’t exactly illegal but it was certainly breaking some rules. She was finding it surprising how much she could get away with by simply wearing her white coat with her ID and having a determined look on her face. People held doors open for her that she didn’t have clearance for, add carrying a clipboard around on top of that and she could’ve gotten into just about anywhere it seemed. She was starting to understand how Diego was so good at it, and more interestingly understanding why he did it. That little flush of her cheeks and rush of misbehaving came back to her, something she’d not felt in over a decade, fueled her powers, and gave her a little oomph to work with.

She started small, visited patients being held that was out of the ER after surgery, vehicle accidents, and the like, plenty of small cuts and scrapes that no one would notice were gone. She’d look in and find someone resting and alone, not hard to do most nights. She’d find some road rash, a smaller gash, something not too intricate. At first, she thought she needed to put her hands on the person to heal and woke up a few very understandably startled people. But after a few successful attempts, she started to push herself more. By focusing she began to be able to heal cuts over and no scar would be left in its place. Whoever she did this to, she would check on their file until they were discharged, making sure she wasn’t hurting them or causing bad side effects. So far they’d all made a full recovery with no complications. This was extremely promising and made Eve’s confidence grow and therefore emboldened her to push herself.

She’d worn herself ragged running experiments on what she could or couldn’t do. She had a journal she kept hidden that she kept her results in. So far, she’d been able to find some limitations and strengths. No matter how hard she tried, she was no match for cancer. She could help with someone’s side effects momentarily but be unable to cure it. The same could be said for viral and bacterial instances. Once something had infiltrated and infested a body, she could no longer help it. She could only manipulate the body itself. Her hopes of being able to be the cure for cancer, which she would admit was a bit egotistical, were broken after seeing many fade away after brief respites she’d give them from nausea or pain. It was nice to be able to help certainly but having to see suffering and not be able to fix it was a heavy burden she was having to learn to deal with.

It was never easy to lose someone. It was something she wouldn’t say you got used to exactly, but it was something you could come to understand with time. Or at least be able to come to terms with. Since Eve was an emotional person deep down, and the healing she’d been trying to do to help herself manage that was opening up old wounds and was making her feel raw. Every life that slipped through her fingers would hit her harder than it had months prior. Which is what led her to be so reckless, she guesses. So she tried to bring someone back from the dead.

It wasn’t uncommon sadly, for a child brought in after catching a stray bullet from a hit and run or gang violence. It felt so unfair, and the first time she tried the child was rolled in, DOA, her heart poured out for them. She gave it her all, paddles, compressions and when nothing moved the vitals she had a last-ditch effort. A tear-filled pressing of her hands to the chest of the child, nurses looked on with heartbroken eyes for the doctor as she had a rare moment of breaking on the job. For a fleeting moment, a blip on the monitor later ruled out to a technical glitch, but Eve just couldn’t muster it. She passed out onto the bloody floor from her attempts and was sent home.

She’d had mixed feelings about it. Had she almost done it? Could she get stronger? Or had she found a line that she couldn’t cross? The page entry for her recorded attempts had teardrops running her ink on that entry. She felt defeated and decided to take a break.

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

Diego watches Eve without her knowing, as he sometimes still does. He trusts her, but a part of him always wants to be sure. She’s in an unusual neighborhood, going into an apartment building he doesn’t know. He decided to wait on her to appear again instead of finding her inside. He didn’t have to wait much more than an hour before she appeared again, seeming uneasy as she stepped back into the now dark streets.

He followed behind, spilling out of an alleyway after she passed and started the task of getting closer to her. When he finally got close enough to reach out and speak he was met swiftly with a switchblade and a series of moves he’d taught her.

“Woah! Hey! It’s me!” He says defensively, only a minor rise in key from surprise as he jumped back.

“Jesus fucking CHRIST Diego!” She says with an expression he’s never seen before.

“Hey! Hey! I didn’t know you’d be so jumpy!” He keeps his hands up between them as she huffs out of her nose like a bull, the late winter night air just still barely showing her breath.

“I’m a woman. Alone. At night on the street, dude!” She states obviously and biting as she puts her blade away. “Of COURSE I’m jumpy!” She whispers angrily.

“Look, there are people around and the streetlights are on... I didn’t know I’d scare you.” He explains with hands now on her shoulders. “You okay? You’ve got that wild look in your eyes.”

“I’m just…” she sighs and shakes her head. “I’m fine. I just… Wanna get home.”

“Looks like we need to train on lying.” He smirks.

She stares at him for a moment with pursed lips then shrugs and turns back in the direction she was going.

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“No, I'd like that actually.” She murmurs.

“What are you doing in this part of town?”

“Do you follow me everywhere?”

“No…” he answers defensively playful. “I was around and saw you. Got curious.”

“You can’t send a text like a normal person?”

“Not my style.”

“Difficult is your style.”

“Hey, slow down there with the rapid-fire insults here. Did I do something?”

“Besides stalk me? No.”

“Then why are you being such a-“ he stops as she shoots her eyes his way. “Difficult person?” He tries to cover smoothly.

Once again she stares as if contemplating something. “If I tell you will you stop asking?”

“Sorry, no promises. Don’t think I missed where you didn’t answer why you’re here.”

“Fine.” She begins to walk again. “I’m here apartment hunting. Not so great street, but that apartment is really nice. And I have a fear… a phobia that you’re gonna laugh at me for so I don’t wanna tell you.”

“When have I ever laughed at you?”

She raises her brows obviously at him.

“Okay, I won’t now.” he emphasizes.

“I don’t believe you for some reason.”

“I swear! I won’t.”

“Due to… past trauma, I am afraid of the dark. And I don’t know this part of town and it makes me nervous. I’d catch a cab but I want to learn the subways so I need to walk it.”

He stays quiet for a moment. “Afraid of the dark?”

“Yes, my mom would lock me in the closet and read scripture and scare me and shit. Okay? And it traumatized me so when it’s dark and I’m overstimulated I get really... panicky.” She explains defensively.

“Don’t have to fight me over it, it’s fine. I...get it.”

“Don’t tell me you were locked in a closet too?”

“No, but he did do it to my brother. And it was a mausoleum and not a closet.”

“Fuck.” she exhales.

“Yeah. Pretty fucked up.”

“The more we learn about each other the more often we say that.”

“Get used to it.” He huffs out a laugh. They walk for a moment in comfortable silence while Eve tried to let her defenses down against him. “You know you could’ve just... asked me to come with you ya know? I am pretty handy when it comes to navigating the city. And being a bodyguard.”

“It’s not something I’m proud of.” She shakes her head. “Yeah, Diego? Hey, could you babysit me because I’m a child who’s afraid of the dark and not a grown-ass woman who can handle her own shit?”

“Well, it’s better than you almost stabbing me!”

“And whose fault was that?”

“...your moms if you want to get really technical about it.”

She lets out a weak laugh and he feels accomplished. ”Don’t forget your dad too”

“Oh yeah fuck both of them.” He says eagerly in agreement. They share a smile and he stays close to her side. “Why are you looking for an apartment?” He breaks the silence.

“Some asshole keeps breaking into mine.”

“Seriously.” He grins and smacks her arm.

“Well I’m on salary now and it’s good money so I can afford a better place.”

“Oh. I kinda like your place.”

“I don’t hate it but it’d be nice to have some more room. An office, a view.” They stand at a corner to wait for a light change. “I’d like a place with more privacy. Maybe a doorman for safety?”

“And that apartment had all that?” He motions back with his thumb.

“Yeah, it was stupid nice for the area. I was surprised it wasn’t more-“ both their heads snap to the car that passed far too fast and close, and luckily it wasn’t them, but a bike messenger up ahead that going to be the target.

They see it happen so fast, and they’re both instinctually moving towards the man that’s now on the ground and trying not to scream, holding his leg.

They were the only ones close out of the street and rush to help.

“Ah fuck, don’t call the ambulance I dont have insurance okay?”

“Well, you’re not walking anywhere like that.” Diego states obviously.

“Lucky for you I’m a Doctor. Let me see. Can you move it?” She moves his sock down to quickly see bone through skin. “Ah man, I’m sorry to tell you this but it’s really...broken dude.” She looks at him with sympathetic eyes.

“Ah fuck.” They cry. “My boss is gonna fire me for sure now. I can’t afford to get this fixed… I can’t take time off…” they begin to hiccup and tears come quickly.

Eve stares at the trauma site and furrows her brow in thought. “Maybe I can…” she whispers.

“Doc...?” she hears Diego’s voice, a warning behind her.

“I’m gonna try. I have to.” She says with wide eyes that convince him on impact. She turns back and puts her hands on the busted ankle, “Stay still if you can.” She mutters before going into her focused state.

“What are you? Listen lady I appreciate you stopping but I don’t think praying over it is gonna work.” They offer but their voice slows as they gradually feel the pain disappear. “What the…” they turn their ankle in a circle and their jaw drops. “HOW DID? WHAT DID?”

Eve shares a very excited glance with Diego before he yanks her up. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Wait no! Don’t go!” A now on their feet and the healed biker was calling out as they both ran down the street into the subway below.

She felt alive. Exhilarated. A smile on her face and hand in hand with Diego as they bobbed and swerved through the crowd.

“Did you SEE?” She calls out as they make it sliding just in time into the subway car.

“YES! You didn’t tell me you’d gotten so good!”

“I’ve been practicing!” She says out of breath and glowing from a sheen of sweat that she’d developed in the rush.

“I’d say so! You just...POOF!”

“I’ll have to show you my notes.”

“Notes?”

“I’ve been keeping track of all my attempts. Like a scientific study. Well… sort of…” she shrugs and wipes her hair back.

“You would find a way to make this nerdy.” He laughs.

“Scientific method is not nerdy!”

He laughs out loud. “That’s the nerdiest thing you’ve ever said!”

“That was awesome though right?”

“Yeah, it was risky but...awesome.” He nods in agreement as they both calm back down and move into whispers of her trial and error.

——————————-

“You just have to remember to be defensive and not just offensive.”

“You know I don’t give a shit about sports Diego.” Eve laughs as she pulls her gym bag over her shoulder.

“I’m serious! You'll get-" he insists with a whine.

"You’ll get yourself hurt when shit gets real.” She says with him and rolls her eyes. “I know! Okay?” She says with a sassy hand motioned his way. “I’ll work on it. Like I always do. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, cut me some slack.” She groans as he walks her to the front of the gym to leave.

They’re met with a thin and friendly-looking guy their age who she thought looked familiar. Diego’s body language automatically tenses.

“Oh hello there you.” Klaus coos at Eve whose bright friendly eyes don’t match Diego’s already annoyed ones at his appearance. “I didn’t know my brother would be busy with a beautiful woman tonight, my apologies.” He sweeps his hands and takes her's to kiss the back of it.

“Hi.” She stutters with surprise. “I was just leaving. Had a training session. Works got weird hours so your brother is nice enough to see me at night.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d see a lovely thing like you anytime you wanted.”

“Let her go, Klaus.”

“What is your name before our paths separate and never meet again. I’d never forgive myself for not asking.”

“It’s Eve.” She laughs. “You’re much nicer than Diego. Do you know how to fight too? Maybe you could train me since he’s such an asshole.” She motions to Diego and Klaus lets out an amused sound.

“Alas I’m fairly useless in such things but I make up for it in other ways.” He winks.

“Okay! GOODNIGHT EVE.” Diego says politely pushing her out the door. “Sorry about Klaus He's…an idiot.”

“No apologies he's rather charming.” She teases him more and waves goodbye as she exits into her cab.

“What the fuck was that?” Diego shoves his lanky brother.

“Eve hmmm? A sexy name for a sexy little-“

“Stop it.” Diego groans.

“That’s her isn’t it?” Klaus smirks and begins to float about as Diego closes up.

“Her who?”

“Your mystery doctor.”

Diego doesn’t answer hoping naively that Klaus would stop.

“Oh come on, I’m your bro, your bud. Your pal. You can tell me.” He insists with outstretched arms.

“Yeah. I’m training her.”

“She seems like she’d be the one training you if you catch my drift.”

“It’s not like that.”

“That smile you had on your face before you realized I was watching would say otherwise.” He lilts. “You’re a terrible liar Diego just don’t try.”

“I’m a great liar!” He barks back.

“You’re shit and you should just be honest with me, I AM the psychic after all.”

“You’re not psychic you see the dead and-“

“And what is the difference?!” Klaus flops just hands at his side and follows his brother upstairs.

Diego continues as if he said nothing. “You’d have to be sober to do that so so I’m not gonna hold my breath on that.”

“I actually have been. Not that you supportive lot would notice.” He prances into the apartment behind a grunting Diego. “Because your little girlfriend is causing quite the ruckus amongst the city’s dead.”

“What?” Diego asks with a raised brow.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She almost brought one back.”

“She did…” he seems deep in contemplation for a moment. “Wait so you HAVE been sober?” Diego’s eyes turn soft and Klaus groans as he’s quickly approached and hugged.

“You are missing the point here Diego dear…”

“I’m proud of you.” He says with emotion in his voice and Klaus manages a heavy sigh and a pat to his back.

“Stop it now before I have feelings…” he pats him and pushes him away. “What do we know about this Eve? She’s messing with the balance, she’s a powerful little thing. And gorgeous I might add, I’d be keeping her to myself too. Unless she was into being shared…”

“I don’t think she is.” Diego falls back into his monotone answering after a brief glimmer of earnest emotion.

“Different strokes, different folks.” Klaus shrugs. “So is that ass as breathtaking as it looked in those leggings or-?”

“KLAUS!”

“What? I’m just a red-blooded American male, I see a nice ass, I admire it.”

“I wouldn’t KNOW.” He answers from behind the doorway of his bedroom, door left open. “But I’d have to say yes.” He adds quickly.

“Ahhhh! There he is.” Klaus applauds his brother's cheeky smile. “Now that you’re not in a prudish mood, I actually do want to know about her. Details, man! Out with it! What’s my little private dick figured out on our newest sibling?”

“Ew don’t say that.”

“I knew you wanted to fuck her.” Klaus smirks.

“Jesus Klaus!” Diego groans.

“Not that it’s stopped any of us before, cough Luther, cough.”

“Hey, we’re not biological!”

“Defending Luther now? Number one? Daddy’s goodest boy? Diego’s sworn nemesis?”

“EW! No! I’m just… saying. It’s a fact so...it’s...valid.”

“Good thing you’ve got your looks hun.” Klaus tsks.

“Do you wanna know about her or you wanna talk shit and get hit?”

“So hostile.” Klaus shakes his shoulders. “Go on you party pooper, tell me about our new super doctor.”

@s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @jaegeeeeer​ @diegos-butt​ @anglovesthis

[whump-town]

Hand In Unlovable Hand

Part 2, lads. Is this reaction sort of... shall we say dramatized? Maybe, I’m not a medical professional. Am I going to fix it? ugh, fuck no. Let Hotch be a little dramatic, it’s a treat for being so damn cute 

Part One

Warnings: snake shit. oh and hospitals

There doesn’t come far too many opportunities for Spencer Reid to admit it but he really wishes he would have listened to Hotch this morning. The older man had made that face -- one Reid wasn’t accustomed to by way of his childhood but he’d certainly seen it before -- the one that expresses fond disapproval. With a shake of his head, Hotch had advised in that very unique way of his that Reid should likely cut back on the coffee. The way that makes Morgan roll his eyes and gets Hotch called the “mom” to Rossi’s “dad”. Reid has grown up for far too long by himself to ever really listen to the helpful advice he’s given the first time. He’s not used to people looking out for him.

Crouched down beside Hotch’s side, close enough to watch the deep purpling of the skin around the bite on his hand, Reid can feel that morning’s six cups of coffee settling poorly in his stomach. The acid crawl of sick as Emily frantically taps at Hotch’s pale cheek trying and failing to properly rouse him. Her hand curled around the back of his neck, supporting his limp head in her palm. Derek queasily grunting as he takes a pen, supplied by Dave, and traces around the bite. Marking it as instructed by the 911 operator still shrilly speaking on the other side of the line.

How does shit like this happen to them?

“There he is,” Emily’s voice comes out far more convincingly nonchalant than she has the capacity to actually feel at this moment. More striking than the amount of time it’s taken to get Hotch responsive, even if it’s just raspily wheezing a soft complaint about Emily’s proximity to him, is his glassy, vacant eyes. Busily brushing his sweaty hair from his eyes, she smiles reassuringly down at him and looks up to Morgan. “How long until they get here?”

Derek has his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder, manipulating Hotch’s hand to work as he’s being told. He glances up in acknowledgment of Emily’s question but doesn’t answer just yet. Nodding his head he grimaces, scowling when Hotch tries to pull his hand from Morgan’s grasp. “The ambulance is on its way,” he says. “Fifteen minutes.”

Shivering, eyelashes hovering just hardly open Emily is concerned fifteen minutes is a little too long to wait. “Where’s the nearest hospital?” She looks up to Reid, watching and seeing just how removed he is right now. His eyes cast to Hotch but having left them, dissociated someplace else. She wishes to go with him but she needs him here and now with their ugly truth and not the safe place he’s conjured. “Spencer,” she says, brisk, loud. He snaps to attention, flinching. “How far away is the closest hospital?”

Reid parts his lips as he thinks, eyes moving as he thinks. “Ten minutes.” They passed it coming into the county so he’s relying on the relative math of stoplights and traffics lights. He realizes, of course, that what they really are fighting is not someone’s eighty-year-old grandmother in a beaten-down sedan but the pharmacists who are going to have to rush anti-venom to them. Before it kills Hotch. The stats are about 5 to 7,000 to 8,000 -- it’s unlikely the strike will kill but someone has to defy the odds. Pulling his eyes away from Hotch’s painfully drawn rigid body, he acknowledges Hotch has always been one for defying odds.

Emily can feel Hotch’s muscles clenching, jaw tight to keep from making a sound as he writhes on the ground. He’s managed to get his hand back from Morgan and cradles it protectively to his chest. She’s close enough to see the purple of his thumb, the dark deathly bruise swelling. The joint looks awful and she shirks at thought of what damage this is going to do. His hands give him hell as is. Beating Foyet hadn’t come without consequence and the frequent instability and pain they cause him is well hidden but it’s not exactly a secret.

Dave hears Emily’s idea forming, fifteen minutes by an ambulance which is saying they’re on time. Hotch pale, sweat drenching his white-dress shirt, and shaking despite the summer heat weighing the rest of them down. “If Derek drives, you’ll be there in five.” There’s a moment of silence their eyes flickering between Derek and Hotch as what’s said is processed.

“What do you think, Aaron?”

His eyes are off to the side, watching the river rage on below them. Hitched, choked breathes coming from his desperately parted lips. The shock has taken its hold, leaving him distanced, and cold. The fuzzy, lightheaded daze is cut with a sharp sting, a pulse of pain up his arm. His thoughts feebly constructed, only brief moments of clarity. Until he has nothing, just the trembling lack of control over his body.

Derek rises to his feet and it’s settled. In a flurry of movement, Derek is informing, not asking, the operator that they’re going to drive Hotch themselves. Again, Emily pats at Hotch’s cheek growing desperate with his inability to answer her. Derek crouches down beside them, walking Hotch through his plan while Spencer runs to get the SUV and bring it as close as he can. He receives no answer but slowly Hotch’s eyes move to them. To Emily, to Derek.

“Up on three, okay?”

He’s nearly dead weight between them but they stop -- Morgan holding his half of Hotch up while Emily bows under her own share. Hotch just needs a moment, spitting out the bit of stomach acid that crawls up his throat. Shakily he manages to get his feet underneath him.

“Just to the car.”

Emily slides into the front seat, opening her phone to find GPS directions to the hospital. The name of which Reid is shouting out to her. JJ slides into the back seat, allowing Derek to help maneuver Hotch’s head into her lap so she can usher her body to brace the shock of Derek’s driving. They leave Spencer and Dave behind,  Reid watching the ground cautiously in fear that another snake might pop up. Dave shakes his head.

The tires kick up dirt and Hotch grunts as the cab rocks and his hand is jostled painfully between his own chest and JJ’s. “Hey, hey.” He doesn’t even feel himself slipping but he peels his eyes open and looks up at JJ’s concerned face. She’d smacked him, his cheek absently stinging from the impact. At least she looks sorry about it. When Emily reaches back to hit him -- distinctly that kind of hit that is harder than necessary but jarring and seems to force some life into him -- she bites out “stay awake, you bastard”.

The car stops, screeching and jerks, and JJ apologizes quickly, terrified as a pained grunt leaves his mouth. His body tensing and his shaking intensifying as he strains in pain. She looks up from him for only a moment, watching Emily and Derek throw the door open to try and work Hotch out. When she looks back down his eyes are closed. “Aaron!” His breathing is coming too quickly, too shallow.

They’re met at the car by staff. People pulling and JJ lets them take Hotch, doing her best to cup his head so it doesn’t hit the door. Derek dutifully rattles off everything he can think of even more details than they need.

“How long has it been since his bite?”

Derek shrugs shaking his head, he doesn’t know. “Uhm.” There wasn’t that much disorder in face of everything but getting that damn snake away took time and then there’s the time they wasted before calling 911. “Maybe… half an hour. Maybe more but not an hour.” He can’t remember. It feels like only two seconds. Hotch was on the ground and Morgan was running at that snake then --

“You saw the snake?”

Emily nods, “he -- he said it was a rattlesnake. He thought it was. I don’t know, none of us do. He just -- He grew up in Virginia but that doesn’t exactly make him a snake expert, you know?”

Shears tear through his clothing like butter. Buttons are forgotten as his shirt is cut wrist to elbow and without a word, just a wince of sympathy, onward. JJ can’t even flinch in preparation as Hotch’s shirt melts away and he’s exposed to them. Pale, thin chest hitching as he draws in short, shallow pants. The scars of Foyet’s attack pink and raised across his chest. It threatens every preconception any of the three of them have had about him.

There are the nine scares they are expecting but there are just so many more. Derek can recognize far too many. A large jagged cut from shrapnel, running from his sixth rub to under his pants at his hip where it curls nastily into a surgical scar. Some thin and straight, others curved and thick. Too many to count. Scars from chest tubes, slices from Unsubs a little too families with knives, and one he can remember holding together with his own hands.

The doctor turns back to them, “any known medical conditions?” She needs to know the complicated bits as quickly as possible. There’s no way any bastard with this many holes in him has managed to get away free. “Surgeries? Traumas?”

Like a kick to the chest, Derek finds his head spinning and heart-dropping through the floor. “He has a clotting problem because of a severe stabbing a few years ago. He -- He takes blood thinners.” He flinches, genuinely afraid now as several staff members stop. They look at him and then at one another. It just had to be Aaron. No one can sniff out trouble like him.

Again, no words communicated. They aren’t good ones, anyhow. Not the kind to be voiced with family so near but things have just gotten far more complicated. “Strip him,” is the only warning given and nods are exchanged as doctors and nurses move around Hotch.

Emily bites her tongue as they poke roughly at Hotch’s body, palpitating his abdomen and manipulating the fingers on his swollen hand. He gives a grunt of pain, eyes opening for just a moment before sliding shut. The harsh overhead light makes his skin seem nearly translucent, paling him in ways that he needs no help in doing naturally. Someone calls his name, a stethoscope joining the EKG lines being stuck to his bare chest.

“His O2 on room air is 92.”

Hotch’s pants are removed completely removed, even his belt is cut through in a clean swipe still in the belt loops. They avert their eyes until a sheet can come down over his pelvis but they’ve seen one another like this far too often. Naked on stretchers as trauma doctors hover and push and pull until they get a response. They each have someone whose knowledge of their body extends what is normal, the kind of knowledge that knew partners in their lives always find odd but someone has to know these things.

“Get him on the mask. Five liters but don’t let him drop to eighty, the last thing he needs is to tubed.” Flashing a penlight in Hotch’s eyes yields another grunt. He raises himself a  little, going back down as his shoulders are redirected to the gurney. His other hand, trembling and loosely flexed, raises to protect his eyes from the light above him. A doctor pulls his arm back down, pinning him in place as someone else preps to place a subclavian central line. It’s quick work -- sped up by their racing hearts. A few swipes at the skin with a wipe, a visible resistance that hurts and Hotch turns his head from it. Grimacing but no longer fighting just supine and limply allowing his limbs to be further mutilated.

The line is taped into place and names of medicines are called out -- none of which any of them have heard of. The gurney becomes mobile, clicks sounding through the room as they pull the guard rails up and place machines and placed around Hotch’s legs and sides. Emily smirks as she sees his feet hanging off the edge, his ankles at the cut-off. It’s a bitter moment and she’s not even sure it’s worth smiling over, she just can’t help it.

JJ steps up the gurney as they pass, grabbing his hand. “We’ll be right here,” she promises. He just looks at her. Unable to move his fingers, he watches her behind his cracked eyelids. She’s the last thing he sees, three passing roofing panels, JJ keeping pace beside him, and the chilling emptiness of unconsciousness.

[pain-somnia]

Away From Home

Pairing: SasuSaku Rating: M (for sexual content) Prompt: time travel w/smut. (for those worried that it’s an adult with a teen, it’s not. That’s all I’m giving away) Disclaimer Day’s Notes: This was a piece that was commissioned through Patreon back in April. It wasn’t originally exclusive so I decided that it’s been 9 months so I will share this with you all.

Away From Home

There is a soreness in his lower back and a crick in his neck that has him worried to open his eyes.

He dreams often of home when on his mission, but the smile on his daughter’s face and the feel of his wife’s hands as they eased the kinks and knots of his muscles had been so real. He had smelled the fabric softener and felt the softness of the white bed sheets with the scalloped trim that Sakura favors. The detailed stitching brushing against his cheek is a sensation so strongly imprinted in his mind that it feels as though he had felt it only a mere hours ago not months.

Reaching to adjust his cloak to ward of the cold, he tucks his face into the collar and sighs. He detests being away but he is duty bound. Sasuke knows the dreams will only haunt him when he is idle for too long.

A crackle of a flame has his eyes opening wide. He never uses a fire at night when traveling alone. More alert now he recognizes the scent of smoke wafting about and absorbed into the material of his black cloak.

And he notices the way his hair brushes alongside his cheeks instead of resting against one side and brushing against the lashes of his left eye.

Sasuke has to blink excessively before he is able to focus on his surroundings. The clarity he usually had is gone and he has as much difficulty seeing as when—

No.

The blurry trio of sleeping bags and the long red hair poking out over the top of one is a sight he hasn’t seen in almost two decades.

It’s as he’s flexing fingers on a hand that he hasn’t had in over fifteen years that he recognizes that his chest is rising and falling at an alarming speed.

When was it that he last had a panic attack? When was it that he last had a panic attack without being able to turn and hold on to the small, soft body of his pink haired wife to ground him to reality?

Inhaling and holding his breath, Sasuke lets out his next exhale long and slow.

Oddities in his life are rare but nothing new, but suddenly finding himself in his teenage body is far more outside his realm of normality than rabbit goddesses and eye snatchers from the moon.

.

.

Settling into the flow of Team Taka is easier than it should be, but Sasuke was never much of a talker and it helps him pretend he isn’t a thirty-two year old man trapped in the body of a seventeen year old.

These versions of his former underlings haven’t noticed anything off about him yet but he knows it’s only time before he slips up.

It would be better to separate.

By the red clouds on his cloak and his blindness he can pinpoint when in time he’s supposed to be. Team Taka is meant to hunt down the Hachibi but Sasuke isn’t his young self lost in the darkness. He not only doesn’t want to hunt down the Hachibi but he also knows how it all plays out and doesn’t care to repeat history.

He will have to walk a path parallel to the one of his past so that he doesn’t disrupt the course of events that lead up to his future. As much as he would rather abandon everything and return home, there may be consequences to that decision.

There is one decision he must make to change the course of events. It will buy him time as he avoids hunting the Hachibi and it would be best for himself and to prevent an outsider from taking what belongs to his brother.

The order was wrong, but it was time to claim his inheritance.

.

.

Having the procedure done a second time, Sasuke was more alert this time around during his healing process. There are no dark thoughts clouding the corners of his mind as he plans.

This is another moment he wishes Sakura were with him. His brilliant wife would have healed him and fixed any errors left behind by the crude surgery. She would be able to come up with theories as to how he found himself in such a predicament. He can only hope that she is safe with their daughter in the distant future and that he hasn’t had any missteps that would erase their family’s future.

As much as he doesn’t want to hunt down the Hachibi there is still one man he will have to take care of again. Sasuke will have to be smarter this time around, less controlled by the hatred that had consumed him in his old life.

Loud voices and hissed insults outside of his bedroom has him snuggling into his futon until only the spikes of his hair can be seen poking from the top of his blankets. He doesn’t wish to know what it is Karin is doing that has her fighting with their comrades.

Sasuke longs for the quiet of his home even more during his recovery. Aches for the breeze drifting in through the open windows of his house and the smell of garlic and shallots filling the air as Sarada and Sakura’s chatter wraps a soothing buzz around his brain and down his spine.

He can’t afford a single misstep. He’ll find his way to Sakura again in the future—of this he’s confident—but he can’t lose their Sarada.

He drifts into a troubled sleep and dreams of hues of pink and red and of a girl’s distant laughter, always cutting away when he’s just within reach.

.

.

It’s a color he could never mistake and a voice he yearns for on quiet nights after days of of inaction.

There are others with her but who they are he doesn’t care. It’s always been like this. He hears her, sees her, before all others. Once that had been something he would vehemently deny, keeping those stray thoughts encased in the deep recesses of his mind, but he isn’t his seventeen year old self━no matter his appearance━and home is a flash step away.

“Konoha shinobi,” Karin warns. “Three klicks but heading west in the opposite direction. Easily avoidable.”

“You couldn’t have said something earlier?” Suigetsu scoffs. “You have one job and you can’t even do that right.”

“Shut up!” Karin seethes. “Sasuke-kun knows I would have said something if I was told to keep alert for them.”

With just a glance, Sasuke has them silencing. He nods his head in the direction he wants them to take and the three of them take off without him.

Home is running in the opposite direction. Three kilometers turns into four which turns into five and then six. And so on she keeps running, not even knowing how much he wants to be running to her.

.

.

He can hear them whispering. Even Jūgo is becoming skeptical of his plans. They have been moving and moving, constantly moving without making any effort to hunt down the Hachibi despite the orders given from his elder cousin Obito masquerading as their ancestor.

“Are you sure?” He hears Suigetsu muttering to Karin from his spot above them all in the forest canopy.

“I’m positive. We’re going in circles. Just as we’re getting closer I can feel him leading us away and…”

“And?”

“Something’s...different about Sasuke-kun. He doesn’t feel the same. His chakra is different. It’s like it’s not the Sasuke-kun we know.”

“Is it because of that surgery?”

“No...it’s been like that since before...just one day he woke up and he was different.”

Whatever Suigetsu responded with was lost to Sasuke as he closed his eyes and shut their voices out.

He didn’t necessarily need them anymore but the three of them had nowhere to go currently. In the future they crawled back to Orochimaru but at the moment he is still dead. And with the war approaching they would need as many allies and Taka did their part in assisting in his old life.

Sasuke will have to find a reason to get away from his team to avoid anymore suspicion.

.

.

He’s on his own for a bit. Sasuke always needs his space from his teammates and before they used to be wary of him, but now they’re wary for another reason all together.

He’s Sasuke but he’s not their Sasuke. He’s a Sasuke only a select few know and Team Taka never had this Sasuke. Karin has witnessed small increments but this Karin isn’t the Karin that was covered to her elbows in blood, cradling his premature daughter to her chest. This Karin doesn’t know it yet, but he is in debt to her for helping his wife and child.

He owes her more than she knows. But that hasn’t happened yet and he just wants distance, space away from her calculating eyes. She can see the way his chakra moves, feel the missing heaviness of how imposing it once was.

And he can’t allow that to be his undoing. He could handle it if Karin were to confront him but he couldn’t handle it if the confrontation led him to losing his future.

So Sasuke runs.

He takes the first chance he gets to split from the rest of Taka. Makes an excuse so that they split ways for a period. They have Karin and she can track him when they need to meet up again.

Being on his own again, Sasuke is reminded of the time during his redemption journey. Although he stands shorter than when he stepped out alone for the first time, he is seeing the world through clearer eyes and a free heart.

Sasuke finds himself sleeping often, a habit from when he went searching for himself. When the warm breeze rustled through the grass and the scent of the oak trees traveled with the wind, Sasuke was reminded of home and his thoughts would become muddled. Sleep was a reprieve from the confusing ache in his chest.

Now sleep is a curse. The weariness of his eyes as they drooped haunts him. For sleep cannot give him what he wants.

A promise that when he wakes up everything would have been just a dream. And that he would be home again.

.

.

It takes Sasuke a moment to remember to breathe.

It was already a coincidence that they had crossed paths once before, that he had caught a glimpse of her so soon before…

Before the time he had seen her in his timeline━his real timeline━and almost lost the future he is missing now.

His eyes are wide open and he is seeing the world with such clarity. How many times did he miss her before? How many times did he miss her when his vision was clouded with his hunt for justice?

He draws in the breath his lungs have been screaming for and it’s with that inhale that Sakura skids to a stop.

Eyes so green, so seafoam green, narrow and scan the perimeter. Short, choppy hair rustles with the slight movement of her head as she searches in his general direction. Sasuke can almost see the calculations circling in her mind.

She knows someone’s there. He can make a run for it, use his greater speed as an advantage. It would be the wise thing to do. The strong thing to do, for he knows that the gravitational pull his wife has on him even━before she’s aware she has any pull on him at all━is something he is weak against.

It is why he left home at twelve. It is why he stayed away.

Sasuke is very good at doing his duty. It’s what kept him on his mission for so long, it’s what had him on his mission without coming back home until it was done.

But he is tired and sleep has been bad and all he wants is that look━the look that Sakura gets on her face when she sees him, eyes wide and lips parting as if she’s seeing something splendid for the first time.

It’s greedy and selfish, but he’s sacrificed years in one lifetime and weeks in another. The universe can forgive him for a few seconds.

Purposefully he takes a step on a twig on the forest floor, one that alerts Sakura to his exact location. He just needs to wait for that look, that one look of astonishment, and he’ll take off.

“Sasuke-kun!” Sakura gasps, but before he can pivot and flee, she’s already taking a step back.

Curious, he halts his movements and watches as she digs her teeth into her lower lip and her eyes drift from him to the direction she had been heading toward before he had distracted her.

That’s...peculiar.

He is right in front of her—not moving now that he’s observing her—and she isn’t pleading with him to go back home with her.

Sasuke understands that she may be wary of him, unsure of how he would react, but Sakura isn’t one to shy away when it comes to her feelings so her silence is unnerving. He had been expecting her to shout out, not to act with trepidation.

Sasuke edges forward, sliding one foot along the soil, moving slowly as if approaching a doe. He waits for a reaction but Sakura just stares and stares.

He takes off, using a sequence of flash steps to create distance. He didn’t expect Sakura to be able to predict his movements but a tugging at the rope belt he uses to tie his cloak to his body has him skidding to a stop and redirecting his path.

“Sasuke-kun!”

He can’t look back. If he looks back he’ll break and forget that he has a responsibility to keep the timeline on its course. There is no telling if he will wake up back at home and face consequences for any disruptions he may have caused.

“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura continues to cry after him, trailing closer after him than he anticipated her sixteen year old self to be able to.

His mind offers a flash of Sakura dodging quick attacks during the fourth great war and then of her sucker punching Shin with his body covered with activated mangekyou sharingan, despite her off roster status due to being the director of the hospital.

“Anata!”

Fumbling a flash step, Sasuke trips up and skids across the forest floor, catching himself with his hands digging into the earth. Sakura catches herself on the trunk of a tree, using chakra to anchor herself instead of skidding along the forest floor like Sasuke. Green eyes go wide in fear as she continues to watch him, body poised and ready to make a run for it. Her body is tense as she anticipates a violent reaction from him.

Activating his sharingan, Sasuke scans every inch of her and looks for a sign, any sign that she could be━

“Tsuma?”

The endearment has barely left his tongue when Sakura throws her body at him, tackling him to the ground in one of her strong embraces.

“It’s you, it’s you!” She sobs into his chest, soaking his top with her tears.

Sasuke places a hand on her back and rubs soothing circles, letting her find comfort in releasing weeks worth of stress.

.

.

Sasuke doesn’t need to hear the lecture. It’s in his wife’s scowl as she sends pulses of her soothing chakra to his temple, healing the scarring from the surgery his cousin had performed to implant Itachi’s eyes. It’s the same scars she healed for him while he was in the hospital after his battle with Naruto.

She doesn’t reprimand him as he pulls her closer to straddle his lap. The closer she is, the more real it feels that she’s really with him.

Sakura had been in her sixteen year old body for the same amount of time he had been back in his seventeen year old body. She had told him of how she woke up one morning convinced she had dreamt he had returned for good, only to realize she was in a smaller body, in a much smaller bed, back in her bedroom in her parents’ house.

Sasuke scoffed at the comment of a smaller body. She had only grown a few more centimeters by the time she had reached adulthood. It is true though that she is no longer fuller at the hips and had lost the bust she developed after pregnancy━even the one she developed toward the end of puberty, but he isn’t going to mention that he had been watching her more closely than he should.

He remembered the shock of standing up and realizing he had lost over half a foot of his own height and although he was still muscular it was nowhere near the muscle mass of his adult body.

And then there was the issue of balance since he no longer needed to compensate for the missing limb.

“Do you think anyone else was sent back in time?” Sakura asks him as she examines him further, unzipping his top and brushing the pads of her fingers along still healing scars.

“Definitely not Naruto. He wouldn’t have the sense to keep it a secret.” Sasuke drags his nose up the line of Sakura’s throat. She smells mostly of sweat, dirt, and grass, but just underneath is her own unique scent.

Sasuke slides his hands under her medic apron, fingers edging along the hem of her tight shorts.

“What—,” Sakura narrows her eyes at him, cutting off her flow of chakra, “—what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Sasuke answers as he cups her pert backside with both hands.

“We’re in a forest,” Sakura protests.

“That wouldn’t be new for us,” Sasuke counters.

“We’re in a forest, I’m sixteen, and you’re a missing nin,” is Sakura’s rebuttal. Despite her protests, she reaches for his rope belt and tugs it undone.

“Physically,” Sasuke continues to counter, “but spiritually we are━”

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me, you opportunist.”

Sakura holds his face in her small hands and initiates their first kiss━a minor change from their original timeline. Sasuke sits her in his lap and bites on her lower lip, pulling it into his own mouth as he proceeds to deepen the kiss.

Sasuke isn’t ignorant of the fact that he now has the advantage of two hands. He can touch his wife without the assistance of any jutsu. Although the observation doesn’t stop him from using his teeth to unzip her top. His hands are too busy pulling off her shorts and underwear.

As close as they are, they’re not close enough and he needs to correct that.

“Don’t rip through my shorts,” Sakura warns him, clutching his shoulders with enough force he’s sure she added chakra to her hold, a promise of repercussions if he damages her clothing.

Sakura’s gasp is barely heard over the sound of her mesh tank top being torn in half with only the use of Sasuke’s teeth. No one ever sees her undergarments so it’s an article of clothing that has no import, something that Sasuke is aware of and pays no mind to her grumbling as he drags his tongue up her sternum.

Her irritation melts into a soft sighs as he presses open mouth kisses to her clavicle. He grabs her waist with his hands, distracted by how tiny it is as he brushes his thumbs lightly around her belly button.

“Sasuke-kun…” Sakura murmurs as he sinks his fingers into her warm, wet center. He gets to work on stroking her with one hand and helping her remove her shorts and underwear with the other.

Two hands really were more efficient.

Sakura’s moans roll into his mouth as she grinds her hips against his hand. She had been too engrossed in the feeling of his fingers thrusting in and out of her core to worry about removing her medic-nin apron. Sasuke wants it on during their encounter.

Barely covering anything at all, Sasuke didn’t get a chance to appreciate her little apron when he really was seventeen. It is short enough and the slit just high enough that he can watch the way Sakura’s pink curls brush against the heel of his palm.

As Sakura grinds her hips against his hand, she braces herself by gripping his shoulders. The position they’re in makes it easy for Sasuke to wrap his lips around a pebbled nipple. He uses his other hand to press against her lower back in order to support her as she bucks against him, legs trembling.

As her inner muscles start to spasm around his fingers, Sasuke pulls them out. Sakura cries out at the loss and throws a glare at him, eyes watering from the frustration.

“I was close!”

“Yeah, I know.”

Sakura pouts so cutely he should feel bad about depriving her the release she was edging toward but he doesn’t. He just pulls his cloak out from under him and spreads it out on the forest floor.

“Come here,” Sasuke murmurs, tugging at her wrists to draw her closer. “And take off your shirt.”

Sakura barely shrugs her red top off and Sasuke is already pushing her down on to the cloak. He wastes no time in pushing her thighs apart and opening her folds once again. He’s careful to avoid the bundle of nerves that would throw her over the edge now that she is sensitive from the earlier stimulation.

“You’re doing it again,” Sakura whines, wiggling her hips in an attempt to get him where she wants him.

“What am I doing?” Sasuke feigns ignorance, pretending to be too concentrated on his task.

“Sasuke-kun. I’m not going to be the only one naked outside again.”

Sasuke frowns at the statement but doesn’t refute it. Their encounters outdoors usually ended up with Sakura losing every article of clothing while he only tugged his pants low enough to free himself from the confines.

Sasuke shrugs but in a gesture of mock solidarity he removes his shirt and tosses it to the side. He quirks an eyebrow at her and hesitantly she relaxes underneath him.

Now that she’s more willing to be compliant, losing the tension in her body, Sasuke swipes at her clit. He rubs at it with his thumb as he strokes her folds and places kisses down the valley between her small breasts and lower until he reaches her navel.

Dipping his tongue in her belly button, he sucks at the flesh there before making his way down lower and lower, past the thatch of pink curls, and flattens his tongue against where she’s hottest and drags it nice and slow before flicking Sakura’s hardened nub with the tip of his tongue.

A sharp pain at his scalp alerts him to Sakura’s fingers clutching at his hair and yanking it as he pulls the nub between his lips and rolls his tongue around it, alternating between soft suckles and hard suction that has her thighs trembling around his head.

Sasuke groans against her folds and Sakura’s body tenses up as his name tumbles weakly out of her mouth in a soft cry of relief.

Sasuke continues to lap at her core, flicking her clit in the upstroke. When Sakura tries to sit up he hooks his arms around her thighs and place his hands on her hips to keep her still. Using her sensitivity from the last orgasm he guides her into a second one and then rolls it into a third.

Sakura’s pulling his hair so hard at this point he’s glad that she is unable to concentrate on anything else but the feel of his tongue. If she could focus she would gather her chakra and attempt to pull him off of her. With the way she was yanking she could probably scalp him with her bare hands in her flustered state with the use of chakra.

By the time he’s done teasing her, Sakura is struggling to fill her lungs, unable to catch her breath through her pants. As she’s coming down, chest slowing down in its rising, Sasuke sits up on his knees and pulls her lower half so that her legs are spread across his lap.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he strokes her thigh soothingly as her eyes blink back into focus. She nods and grasps his hand, interlocking their fingers.

“I want to touch you too.”

Sakura pulls his hand up and presses kisses to the pads of his fingers, drawing them into her mouth. Sasuke’ mouth runs dry as she sucks on them. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she slides his index and middle fingers in and out of her mouth, her tongue wrapping around them.

“Next time,” Sasuke chokes out, reluctantly removing his hand from her hold as he pulls himself out of his pants. He gives himself two quick strokes, using the slickness from Sakura’s sucking to lubricate himself before guiding his cock into her entrance.

Slow and steady, Sasuke pushes in, groaning as he sinks deeper into Sakura’s slick heat. Looking up at Sakura’s face he cocks his head to the side, not sure why her lips are parted and eyes glimmering in awe.

“So that’s what you would have looked like…” she says softly.

Smirking down at his wife, Sasuke groans again purposely as he pulls out and thrusts back in as deeply as he can fill her.

The awestruck expression falls from Sakura’s face as she gasps from the sudden fullness. Sasuke stills inside her, feeling her inner muscles contracting around him as she adjusts to his size. As soon as she lifts her hips to move underneath him, Sasuke begins a steady pace of thrusts, gripping her hips with both hands to anchor her to him.

As familiar as he is with what his wife likes, his young body isn’t accustomed to being inside her and he is hypersensitive to the sensation. He can feel his release rapidly approaching, much sooner than he’d like.

Pulling out, he maneuvers Sakura’s body so she’s on her stomach. Following his lead, Sakura braces herself on her hands and knees and spreads her legs for him. Sasuke sinks back in and Sakura cries out, feeling him even deeper than before.

It’s a position Sakura prefers and that he gladly puts her in due to the increase in her sensitivity. He settles himself into the even pace from before, not trying to cum before he’s ready. Sasuke takes a finger and drags it down the curve of Sakura’s spine, feeling her flutter around him from the act.

Sasuke drops his head in the crook of her neck and drags his nose across her nape. Dropping kisses between her shoulder blades, Sasuke bites down on her shoulder and Sakura cums again, squeezing him tight and forcing his release out of him. Sasuke pulls her hips tight against his and grinds into her as spills himself inside of her. He collapses on top of her, chin resting on her shoulder. Sakura slowly drops to the ground and nudges him gently off of her as they sprawl out on the cloak.

Sasuke takes a deep breath and pulls Sakura closer so that her back is pressed against his chest. He hooks his arm around her waist and pillows her head with his other arm. Pressing his nose against the top of her head, he breathes in the smell of home. Sweaty and hidden behind the smell of earth, it lies there in the strands of Sakura’s hair.

.

.

Sakura had shrugged on his shirt when they gathered their things and relocated to a bank of a stream to wash up. The sight of their crest on her back is a small comfort but the news Sakura gave him as they laid on the forest floor had put a damper on his mood.

“Sasuke-kun,” his wife calls back his attention as she hangs up the newly washed cloak to dry. “What are you going to do now?”

Sakura was on her way to rendezvous with her team when she had ran into him. Luckily she was ahead of schedule due to already having the information she needed from the mission in the past. Sasuke hadn’t sidetracked her as she was using the extra time to be on her own. She had found it unsettling and tiring when she was with people. The stress of pretending and trying not to disrupt the timeline had been getting to her.

She was just as stuck as Sasuke and the only theory she could come up with was the rinnegan which was ruled out as soon as the thought crossed her mind. The rinnegan traveled dimensions not time.

Waiting around and playing out the rest of the events wasn’t something Sasuke wanted to do. There were other ways to get what he wanted.

“And I really don’t wanna celebrate Naruto’s birthday this time with the two of you blowing each other’s arms off,” Sakura jokes as he drags a hand down his face in embarrassment.

“That’s not happening this time.”

“Then what is happening this time?” Sakura slides her hand down his left wrist, settling her palm against his until he takes hold of it and interlocks their fingers.

“This time,” Sasuke breathes before granting her a soft smile, “this time, I come home. And stay.”

“And you stay.” Sakura nods, beaming up at him. Her smile fades and her brows furrow. “And Sarada?”

“We can be careful, do some calculations…” Sasuke rubs his thumb on the back of her hand. “She was ours once. She can be again. We’ll try.”

“We can try,” Sakura agrees.

“But for now,” Sasuke tugs on her hand, drawing her closer, “let’s go home.”