#and today did next to nothing. i have new meds to try in a couple days but eh

[doggytism]

just got back from the doctors. they sucked me silly

[erii-ya]

Massacre Soldier Killer being a dad?

One Piece FanFic Killer x FemReader

A/N: I know it’s already so late, but still, belated Happy Birthday to our adorable vice-captain Killer. I’ve been so busy lately and couldn’t properly organize my thoughts, so my KillerxReader stories have been on a long pause. Anyway, I accidentally saw a YT vid about different types of writers and discovered that I am a ‘Pantser’ - a term most commonly applied to fiction writers, especially novelists, who write their stories "by the seat of their pants."—someone who doesn’t plan out much (or anything) in advance. So meeee. 😅

Content warning: Long story ahead. Swear words. Killing. Pregnancy. Abortion. WC: 7,9k *I decided not to split the story into multiple parts to make it up to whoever reads my stories*

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As a responsible vice-captain, Killer doesn’t plan on having a child with you until his partner, Eustass Kid, fulfills his dream of becoming the Pirate King. First, because the environment won't suit a child, he knows how dangerous it is in the New World. Second, he won’t be able to fully take care of you while you're pregnant with his child. And third, he’s unsure if he will be a good father.

However, by the time everything had been settled, his next priority would be you, probably thinking of building a future with you. He can’t promise to give you a perfect life, but he’ll try his best to make it fulfilling and worthwhile for you. He’s already blessed to have met you and still thinks about why the hell did you chose him when there are better men out there that are more deserving.

BUT, fate wants to make a prank out of it, and because of a slight miscalculation on your part, you end up conceiving. What’s worse is that you only confirmed it on his birthday.

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I.

“Hey, are you alright? You’re pale.” Killer asked you while you were both in the middle of making Lunch. You've been pretty under the weather for a couple of days now.

“I’m fine. Just got a bit dizzy, is all.” giving him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I can take a rest after this.”

You caught a bad case of the flu last month; recovery took a whole week.  Emma, the crew’s doctor, said it may be because of fatigue, so your captain, Eustass Kid, ordered you not to do everything simultaneously and to look out for yourself more. You tend to overwork yourself constantly, and everyone on the ship gets disoriented when you go sick. Mainly because you managed everyone’s daily tasks so that they would be organized.

“It’s better if you take a rest now. I’ll handle everything else.” 

“Hell no! You’re the one who should be taking your sweet time relaxing since today’s your day. You should leave this to me instead.” trying to shoo him away.

“Nah. It’s just like any other day. Nothing special.” You still want to argue about it, but another wave of nausea hits you. This gives Killer all the more reason to kick you out of the kitchen. He insists you see Emma first to give you a check-up and meds, which you do since your uneasiness is getting annoying.

“Overworking yourself again, I see.” was the first thing the doctor told you once you entered her clinic.

“Not really. Captain’s keeping an eye on everything I do, so I can’t really move around like I always do. Told me to regain my strength first when it’s already been a month since I caught the flu.” you said after she gestured for you to sit on the medical bed.

“Can’t blame the captain. If you only saw the chaos out there while you’re in recovery. It was bad.”

“That bad?”

“It’s terrible.” you only answered with a sigh. When you first joined the Kid Pirates, you saw how disorderly the environment was and corrected that, although it took you quite a while to do so.

Emma started to ask you questions about your symptoms. After writing everything down and examining you, she returned to your charts to analyze the data for a diagnosis. A few minutes passed, and you saw her raising one of her brows while looking at your charts, making you curious.

“What? Did I end up with another flu? ‘Cause I swear, it’s no fun.” you commented, crossing your arms.

“Well, uhm, I actually have some good news for you.” she answered, then looked at you. “Two, to be exact.” Now, it was your turn to raise a brow. Usually, you’ll get both good and bad news, but having two good news?

“I’m dying here, Emma. Spill it already.” 

“So, you don’t have a flu.” then silenced. It seems like Emma’s having some hesitation before telling you the other ‘good’ news.

“Emma!” you yelled, breaking her from her thoughts. She looked at your charts, then back at you, and did that at least three more times. The suspense is killing you.

Instead of saying the second one, she started asking you again. “Y/N, when was the last time you took the contraceptive pill I gave you?”

“This morning. Why?”

“Were you diligently taking those pills even while you were sick last month?” her question made you think back. If memory serves you right, you held off on taking the birth control pills while you were on a sick bed and never had contact with Killer around that time, either.

“I started retaking the pills after I recovered, though.”

“And when was your first contact with Killer-san after your recovery?”

“Well, it was the same day I retake the pill. The reason I remembered retaking it.”

“Ok, so was it the blue or the pink pill?” The what now? At this point, you’re at a loss.

“Emma, you’re confusing me. What blue and pink? It was always a pink pill. Never had a blue one.”

Emma face-palmed. By now, she was sure about your diagnosis. You were slow to catch on, but you eventually did after a couple of silences. And when you did…

“Holy shizz… Are you telling me that I’m..?” you can’t even say it. Emma didn’t say anything either and just nodded her head in agreement. The face that you’re making this time can’t be explained. A lot of emotions were bubbling up inside of you.

“Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh no.” you started to panic and became paler. Emma was quick to approach you after seeing you start a panic attack. You gripped her shirt and said, “This can’t be, Emma. THIS is not supposed to happen! I religiously took those pink pills you gave me for a year! Why now?! What’s with blue pills?! The pink?!” you’re practically screaming at her now with tears flowing down your face.

Emma covered your mouth tightly to suppress your screams. She told you to come down, or else the others would hear you unless you wanted them to know the big news. She’s right. No one should know, so you tried to calm yourself upon hearing her suggestion. 

You inhaled and exhaled sharply while trying to suppress your emotions and tears. When Emma saw you had calmed down, she began to explain about the blue and pink pills. She said that she gave you two different bottles of pills before, which are colored blue and pink. Pink is for daily use, while the blue one should be consumed right after intercourse if, by any chance, you stop taking the pink pills regularly.

Since you were out with the flu for a whole week last month, you couldn’t take your regular pink pills, and Killer, being Killer, once he was sure you had recovered, took his time to ‘recharge’ you with ‘Vitamin K’ or as he’d like to call it. The miscalculation on your part was forgetting about Emma’s advice about how to consume the two pills properly. 

You totally forgot about the blue pills since you never had a skip of the regular pink ones for over a year until you got sick. You thought by then, if you start retaking the pink pills, it’ll work just the same.

You wipe the tears continuously escaping your eyes and grab Emma by her shoulder. “This conversation will stay between the both of us. You hear me, Emma? No words about this can leave this room, and I’m dead serious.”

“Of course. My patients' records are confidential. Like you, I may be a pirate, but I still follow medical ethics. However…” she looked at you straight in the eyes, “I think Killer-san has the right to know about this too.”

Your eyes widen at her advice. “NO! Definitely not!”

“But he’s the father, Y/N!” 

“And he’s also our vice-captain, Emma! He has his priorities, and that’s Kid. Captain won’t be happy to know about this too, and I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.” you insist. The doctor gave you a sympathetic look and didn’t say another word. You left and went to your and Killer’s shared bedroom. Your mind is too occupied with what happened in the clinic, but the exhaustion pulls you into a deep sleep.

II.

When you wake up, it’s already dark. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, and the first thing that came to mind was the revelation you heard earlier. Getting the flu again seems a better diagnosis, after all. You tried to shift in bed when you realized big, strong arms were wrapped around you and a leg locking you in place—warm breath blowing on your left temple. 

You saw Killer sleeping peacefully beside you with his mask off. You were blessed to see that gorgeous face every day, and you couldn’t help but caress it. He moved slightly when he felt the warmth of your hand, tightening his grip on you.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, love.” you said softly, giggling at his actions. You heard him hum in agreement.

Minutes passed, and you savored the peaceful silence, listening to Killer’s rhythmic breathing beside you. You’re already content with this. Spending your days as a pirate alongside the man you love was challenging, but being in his arms like this at the end of the day makes it all worth it. He makes you feel safe. He makes you happy. He makes you feel…home.

You unconsciously placed your hands on your stomach. Family… You never thought of the idea before. Having a family with Killer. Not because you don’t like it but because of both your current situation. Especially when your captain, Eustass Kid, has come a long way to fulfilling his dreams. 

That’s when you decide on what to do. The child will only be a nuisance, and you won’t let the child drag the crew down. It’s the only way you can think of. There’s no other choice. 

Tears sting your eyes, and you try your best to stifle a cry when someone bangs the door loudly. “Oi, Killer! Get your fuckin’ ass outta here! We’re celebrating your birthday, and you hole yourself up in there? GET OUT! NOW!” it was Kid, banging at the door profusely.

Killer grunts but gets up anyway. He walked over the door to open it, displaying Kid’s grumpy face. “Fucking finally!” your captain said. He looked past Killer to peek at you. “You feeling Okay?” he asked with concern in his voice.

You smiled at him and nodded, “Strong as a bull, captain.”

He bobs his head, satisfied, and looks back at Killer, telling him to dress up and drag you out on the deck. Even added to keep your hands off each other for the time being and just get back to your business after the party before he disappeared. You laughed at his last remark.

You got up and went to hug Killer from behind. “Well, let’s get going, birthday boy, or the captain might feed us to the sharks.”

Killer chuckles, “I doubt it. He loves us too much to do that.”

You both dressed up and went to the others. Everyone is having a blast. You can hear them from where your room is. The night went well, and you’re enjoying the rock session Kid and Killer started with Killer being the drummer when the ship doctor approached you.

“How are you feeling now?” Emma asked. “Is that alcohol?!” snatching away the drink in your hand.

“Come on, Emma. I’m fine, and this’ll be the last time I can enjoy that.” trying to get your drink back from her hands.

“Are you seriously thinking of harming your child, Y/N?” she whispered harshly at you with wide eyes.

You stared at her, then sighed, “I am not. A’ight? Now give that back. I’ll look suspicious if I don’t drink.”

“Not if you’re feeling unwell.” Emma called one of the crew members nearby and gave the alcohol to him. Telling him you can’t drink because of an upset stomach.

Emma stayed by your side all night while Killer enjoyed his time with the other crew members. “He’s so respected, isn’t he?” you suddenly blurted out.

“Of course, he is. He’s the second strongest next to the captain and takes good care of all of us. Not to mention the special care towards you.” she gave you a knowing look. You hummed in agreement, a smile ghosting your face.

“He’ll be a good father, too, Y/N. I can envision it.” she added.

You didn’t answer and just gazed at Killer from a distance. Emma doesn’t need to let you know because you can see it, too. However, the timing isn’t right. There’s so much that Killer wants to do to help his partner, his best friend, and you can’t let yourself hinder that. Not you. Not this child.

III.

Six months later…

Kid approaches Killer, who’s busy thrashing the life out of a pirate from a crew they ambushed. “Killer. We’re done here. Let’s get back to Victoria.”

His words were brushed aside, and Killer continued to use the pirate as a punching bag. Killer’s been like this since you left without a word. He was letting out his frustrations of not being able to find your whereabouts on mindlessly and mercilessly killing anyone, earning him the title of 'Massacre Soldier'.

*flashback*

A few days after his birthday, the Victoria Punk docked on an island to get supplies. You went out with some of your crew members to shop when you split yourself from them in the middle of town and hired a boat to stow away. 

At least, that’s what they all thought.

When, in fact, you return to the ship and hide somewhere you know they won’t find. You then waited for the right time to snuck out. Feeling sorry for the citizens who got hooked up on your own dilemma when your crew, together with Kid and Killer, almost flipped the island upside down just to find you.

You took it as a chance to escape and sailed away with a boat you bought in the morning. Stopped at the nearest island and snuck on a merchant’s ship you didn’t even know where it was heading. You did that a few more times until you ended up on a secluded island. Far from where you’ve been. Far from marines and pirates. Far from the man you love.

It was in an isolated area in the New World where help was impossible. The island's living conditions were poor but peaceful, and the island folks were friendly. You started your new life there, with the little soul blossoming in your belly. 

You changed your name and your looks. Cut your hair. The purple hair Killer loved so much is now dyed silver. Your red eyes, once shining like a sparkling flame that Killer loved to stare at, have now changed to green. You were unrecognizable unless someone assessed you carefully.

You found yourself an abandoned small hut up in the mountains. It looked like no one had ever lived there for a long time, so you settled in and began your single life there.

Meanwhile…

“Who did you say was pregnant?! Y/N?!” Kid growled at Emma. The doctor felt shivers run down her spine. She’s standing in front of the big four while being circled by the crew.

“Y-yes, captain.” she answered meekly.

“Then why didn’t you tell us immediately?!?!” Kid was furious in disbelief. He was as worried as Killer when you disappeared without a trace. Killer, on the other hand, clenched his fists so hard in an attempt to stop himself from punching the doctor. He doesn’t care if she’s a woman. He’s so mad right now he wants to wring her neck right there and then for keeping your pregnancy a secret from him.

“For the record, captain, I did not PURPOSELY keep it a secret from all of you, especially from Killer-san,” Emma said in a defense. “God knows how hard I persuaded Y/N to get her to confess the matter to him. It didn’t even come to me that she would leave us. In fact…” and she trailed off.

Killer didn’t like the sudden halt. It ticked him off. “Why did you stop, Emma? Continue.” he said, but Emma was hesitant. “I said CONTINUE!” he shouted.

Everyone flinched and was surprised at Killer’s sudden outburst. He was usually calm and collected, but right now, he’s different. He’s trying to suppress his anger because he might go on a rampage if not.

Emma exhaled sharply before saying, “In fact, I thought she would most likely abort the baby.” without missing a beat.

Killer held his breath after hearing the doctor’s words. He was wondering if you really thought of aborting his child. Kid broke the awkward silence and asked the doctor, “What made you think she would do that?”

“Well, because when we confirmed it at the clinic the other day, during Killer-san’s birthday, she had a panic attack, telling me over and over that it shouldn’t happen. The baby, I mean.”

Killer’s shoulders dropped, which Kid noticed. It pains him to see his best friend getting crushed by the news.

The doctor continued, looking at Killer, “Killer-san, please don’t think badly of Y/N. It’s not like she doesn’t want the baby. It was only my initial opinion after seeing her fit in my clinic.”

“I was with her all night during your birthday celebration. I saw how she lovingly stared at you while gently caressing her belly. She was doing it unconsciously, I think. She even stopped drinking alcohol and taking caffeine since then, and you know how she loved her iced coffee.” Emma finished.

“She can’t live without it,” said Killer, to which everyone agreed. They know you can consume up to 8 servings of iced coffee daily.

“I believe she left because she doesn’t want to burden anyone and that the captain wouldn’t be happy to know about it. She was just thinking about all of us and how it may affect everyone.” Emma concluded.

“That dumb woman.” Kid gruffed. “Why the hell won’t I be fucking happy if she’s carrying my niece! Or nephew, whatever!” He turned towards Killer, “We’re going to find that stupid woman of yours, Killer. Even if we need to re-route.”

Killer nods, grateful to his captain, “I owe you, Kid.”

“No, we owe her. Also, she insults me for leaving this crew like that. Doesn’t she know by now that she’s my family, too?” Kid may be violent, stubborn, and grumpy, but he considers you his sister. You took care of him and his crew and did a lot to help him, too, so he’s quite disappointed with your actions. He hoped you could be more selfish than selfless.

*end*

Going back to the present, Killer only stopped thrashing the poor pirate when he felt satisfied. There were still no clues about you, and he became increasingly worried as the day passed. Knowing that you’re living by yourself with your growing belly in god knows where for half a year now.

“We’ll stop by the next island we see to get some supplies, and then we’ll continue to look around for Y/N.” Kid said to where Killer only nodded in acknowledgment. They went back to Victoria, and as usual, after cleaning up, Killer went to the kitchen to grab some beer. It has been a routine for him to drown himself in booze because it helps to calm his nerves and fall asleep. He had difficulty getting some sleep since you left, causing him to get insomnia.

A few days later, the Kid Pirates stumbled upon a small island that was quite isolated. It doesn’t seem like they’ll get their needed supplies in there, but they still need to dock to check and do maintenance on the ship. So they did.

“Killer, wake up!” Kid bangs on his door. “We’re docked on an island! Move your ass and get some fresh air before you rot to death!” he called.

Killer eventually went out to walk around the island to see if there were any supplies they could buy. At first, he was hesitant but thought he couldn’t always act like a child and should help the crew with the other tasks to lessen the workload.

He was looking around some stalls when he heard a familiar laugh, making him stop dead in his tracks. It was a laugh he had longed to hear. He did a quick turn to scan his surroundings, hoping to find his favorite purple hair that he hadn’t seen for six months, but to no avail. No purple-haired woman was around, but he could still hear the familiar laughter. 

After carefully examining the area, his eyes then found the source. On a stall a few feet away, there was a silver-haired woman with her back turned against him, talking happily to the stall owner. She was the one laughing. He stared at the woman for a long time until she turned slightly at an angle that made it possible for Killer to see the side of her face. Silver hair and green eyes. He first thought it couldn’t be you until he noticed her bulging belly. 

Was it really you? He felt his heart stopped at that moment. Breaking out in cold sweat, hands trembling, he slowly walked over to where you are—then stopped. He started having doubts. 

Do you hate him? 

Do you still love him?

What will you feel once you see him? Scared? Hatred?

Thoughts were running wild in his head, making it more difficult for him to approach you. So he decided to tail behind you instead, as discreetly as he could. He doesn’t want to surprise you and wants to check how you live your life here on the island.

“Uhm, hey, do you know who that woman is?” Killer asked the owner of the stall he was at.

The owner glanced in the direction he was pointing, “Oh, that was Marie. She’s pretty, right? Such a sweet girl. Poor thing was abandoned by the man who got her pregnant. Tsk, that scumbag…”

Killer looked curiously at the old man. “Abandoned?”

“Well, it wasn’t confirmed, but others said that. She’s a very nice kid but don’t talk much about her life before she ended up here. She lives in the mountains by herself. Occasionally, some of us visit her to buy some of her vegetables. She usually goes down here to sell them, but since her belly is growing fast, we told her to stop going up and down the mountains, or it’ll strain her and her baby. Would you like to buy some of these?” As thanks to the information he heard, Killer bought some of the stuff the old man was selling. 

You started walking away, so he followed behind. You notice a presence following you, but no one is there whenever you turn around to check.

IV.

You felt chills but ignored the foreboding feeling. It could’ve been some pregnancy blues. But your anxiety about being discovered by the Kid Pirates was still there. Still, it has already been half a year, and they might’ve been too busy now to even think of you. You could still get some updates about them from time to time. The last thing you read about your former crew was their time in Sabaody two months after you left.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t hurt by the thought that they could move on quickly after your disappearance. Whether Emma told them about your pregnancy or not, it might’ve been unimportant, just as you thought. It only confirms your belief that you and the baby burden the crew. 

However, sometimes you can’t help but think about Killer. What was his reaction after knowing about the baby?

Was he mad? Was he happy?

Did he try to find you?

Did he even know you are pregnant?

Tears would always well up in your eyes whenever you thought of him. You still love him after a long time, but you assumed that what you did was right. Tying Killer in an obligation he didn’t plan to have was the last thing you wanted for him.

Seeing your small abode gave you relief. Ascending and descending the mountains was quite strenuous; even the folks worried about you. But being alone up here can be lonely, and there is a need for someone to talk to. 

Entering your small hut, you went straight to bed to rest. Your belly is protruding, making you consider whether you’re in your 6th month of pregnancy or not. Its size is kind of exaggerated. You can’t do much about it, though, since there’s no doctor available on this island. The things you do to take care of yourself and the baby inside you came from the tips and tricks shared with you by the old folks and fellow mothers living there.

There’s a sudden kick from your belly, a hyper one. It feels like the baby is getting excited for some reason. “Hey bud, what got you so active today, huh? You never kicked me like that before,” you said while caressing your bump. The baby answered with another strong kick, and it made you laugh.

You kept talking to your bump when a knock came on your door. It wasn’t loud, but it was strong. You’re not expecting any visitors from the folks, so you’re curious about who it could be. You slowly got up and went to open it.

“So you just open the door like that without even asking who it is.” says the man standing before you.

You turned pale and were speechless. Heart beating faster than ever you swear he can also hear it. Your grip on the door tightens, making your knuckles turn white.

“How can you be so careless, Y/N.” the man added, staring intently into your eyes.

You can’t find your words; even if you did, you know you’ll choke on them. He caught you by surprise, and you feel cornered. It was Killer. How he’s able to find you, you have no freaking idea. This island is isolated, and it’s rare for pirates, even the marines, to stop by, making it the perfect place to live your life in seclusion.

Trying to maintain your facade, you said, “I-I’m sorry, sir, but you might be mistaken. M-my na-name is Marie and not Y/N. I-is th-there anything I c-can help you?” mentally smacking your head for stuttering.

“Really? We’re going to continue playing this game, Y/N? ‘Cause I’m getting fuckin’ tired of this shit.” his words were like venom. It stings.

Killer slowly entered the hut. He was more buffer than before. If he pounces at you, you’ll be crushed for sure. Then you notice the thing that he’s holding: knives. 

Is he going to kill you?!

Are you and the baby that bothersome that he needed to dispose of you?

You can feel the anxiety building up, and you start to have a panic attack. Breathing became hard, and you felt a sharp pain in your stomach like it was twisting.

Killer noticed how you clenched tightly at your belly, and your face painted an expression of pain. He quickly grabbed you by the arms in worry, but you shuddered at the contact, resulting in you pushing him away by force.

He was stunned. The face you’re making now, never in his dreams did he think he’d see you make that expression towards him. You were utterly terrified.

“Please don’t touch me. Spare me and my child’s life, please. Have mercy.” you kneeled in front of him, eyes closed, crying, clasping your hands like in prayer, begging for him not to kill you and the baby in your tummy. 

Killer can’t believe what he’s seeing. Why did it end up like this? You were both happy and loving one day, but now you see him as a monster trying to kill you.

It breaks his heart to see you in this state. He doesn’t know what he did for you to be this terrified, but if you only knew how hard he tried to look for you. How happy he was to know you’re carrying his child. It may not be at the right time, but to hell with that. 

You were cowering in fear when you heard a metal clasp unfastening and then a loud thud of something hitting the floor. You cautiously opened your eyes to see what it was and saw Killer’s mask. On the floor.

“Hi, baby.” you heard him say. His tone was soft and sweet, like how he lulls you to sleep every night back in Victoria. You feel his hands slowly cupping your face, guiding you to look at him. “Look at me. Please.”

There was a moment of hesitation before you gathered the courage to meet his gaze. For so long, you had hoped to see those beautiful blue eyes again, even for one last time, and now it was staring back at you.

He was looking at you tenderly while he wiped your tears. Not even a minute passed when you saw his tears flowing freely down his face, too. His lips are quivering like he was trying his best not to be so vulnerable in front of you. But he can’t stop. He waited for this moment to see you and finally hold you. 

He pressed his forehead onto yours, and you stayed in that position for a while. No words. Just feeling the presence of each other. It was comforting. It was familiar.

Living alone wasn’t bad, but it sure as hell was lonely, and you bear with it. But now that Killer is here, even with anxiety and fear, the same feeling he gives you is there. You feel safe. You feel at home.

Your tensed body became more and more relaxed, and you were able to regain even breaths, the panic attack subsiding. It may be the longing that pushed you, but you thoughtlessly kissed him. He jolted in surprise but answered back with the same level of intensity. You lap on each other hungrily while gripping one another tightly as if one of you will suddenly vanish into thin air. It only stopped when you both needed to gasp for air.

“I fucking missed you,” Killer said in between breaths. “Please don’t do that again. You’re killing me.” pain apparent in his voice, and you could only nod in agreement.

“Let’s go home… back to Victoria. Yeah?” he asked, tucking away a strand of your hair behind your ears. You're too emotional to say anything so you nodded profusely.

Killer helped you stand up when you felt the same twisting pain again in your belly. You clenched on your stomach, breathing heavily. You felt something flowing down your legs. When you looked at it, you started to panic again. It was blood.

Blood was streaming down your legs, and you never felt so scared in your life. You were even more afraid now than when you saw Killer a while ago.

“Killer… Oh fuck… Oh fuck… The baby. Our baby. Oh my god…” you were frantic, and then you suddenly fainted. 

Killer was quick to catch you, but he was horrified. He never ran as fast as he did today. He was scared shitless. He sprints back to Victoria with you in his arms, and the first thing he does once aboard is yell out Emma’s name, which startles the crew.

Emma came rushing and saw Killer carrying a woman in a bloodied state. She was confused until Killer said, “It’s Y/N. Sh-she’s bleeding. A lot.” 

“Fuck. To the clinic, quickly.” although shocked, she understood the assignment. 

Upon hearing your name, everyone stopped what they were doing and followed Killer and Emma. The others went to get their captain. The Victoria Punk was in total chaos again that night.

V.

Rugged, heavy footsteps are heard closing in by the clinic area. After hearing what had happened, Kid rushed towards the infirmary. There, he saw a disoriented Killer pacing back and forth in front of the clinic.

“Killer,” he called out to his first mate, but Killer was too occupied to notice his arrival. Kid grabbed him by his right shoulder to let him know he was there. 

When Killer realized it was Kid, he felt a little at ease. “Your mask.” Kid added, giving Killer a knowing look. He had never seen his best friend this lost, even forgetting to wear his precious mask, but he understood how severe the matter was.

“I finally found her, Kid.” Killer said in an anguished voice. He was looking at Kid, but his bangs covered his eyes. “We made up, and she agreed to return. Then she…she was…” his voice started to crack, “she was suddenly bleeding. She fainted, an-and s-she was so pale…”

Kid tightens his grip on Killer’s shoulder, reassuring him. “Oi, Y/N’s going to be fine. Don’t fucking underestimate her. She’s one of us, and there’s no way in hell she won’t pull through this.”

Rubbing a hand down his face, Killer agreed, “Yeah, she is… Of course, she is.”

Kid patted his shoulder, “Get it together, buddy. Take a rest. I’ll wait here.”. He was reluctant, but Kid insisted he take a breather. Being anxious won’t do him any good. He needs to trust that you and the baby are in capable hands. 

But he just can’t leave. You have already suffered enough. The least he could do is stay outside and wait until Emma gives any news about your situation. He also wants to be the first person you’ll see once you wake up. 

“I’m fine. I’ll wait for her here.” Killer declared, walking over to sit on the side of the door. 

Kid didn’t push for it anymore. He knows how stubborn Killer can be if he wants it, so they both wait outside the clinic for the next hour or two when they finally hear the click of the clinic’s door opening. Emma emerges from inside, startled to see the two men towering over her.

“How is she?” they said in unison.

“Ghaaad… Don’t pop out of nowhere like that. You just gave me a mini heart attack.” she remarked, her right hand on her chest.

But Killer doesn’t have time for a chit-chat. He’s been so anxious all this time, “Emma…” he grumbled, which the doctor understood as ‘I don’t give a fuck. Give me an update.’ kind of tone.

“Okay… Okay… First of all, Y/N’s stable, and the reaper won’t be visiting anytime soon.” Hearing it lifts a heavy weight on Killer and Kid’s shoulders. They didn’t even realize they’d been holding their breaths until now. 

“You should see her, although she’s still sleeping.” the doctor mused at Killer. “She’s been calling out your name the whole time.” Killer felt a knot in his chest. You’re probably still scared with all that happened.

“By the way, Cap’n, I need all the help we can get for another matter.“ Emma added, turning over to Kid.

“What is it?”

“You see, Y/N lost a lot of blood because of the bleeding, and it was only fortunate of me to be able to stop it. Thank the heavens. But the damage had been done, and if we don’t find a blood donor for her and do a blood transfusion soon, she might suffer from anemia, which can cause her complications when she finally gives birth. Of course, we don’t want that.” Emma explained. 

Killer tensed at the information. He doesn’t want you to suffer anymore during your pregnancy, and if he could only swap places with you, he would.

He started to turn and walk away, probably to get help, but Kid stopped him. “Didn’t you hear what Emma said? Go to Y/N. I’ll handle the rest.” Kid patted him on his shoulder, then left.

Emma guided Killer to where you were, and there, he saw you peacefully sleeping, with an oxygen mask and other apparatus sticking to your body to help monitor your condition. The doctor then asked to take her leave to help your captain gather the possible blood donors and check their compatibility with you. 

Killer watches over you the entire day and never leaves your side. Some of your crewmates would pass by to ask about your condition and check on their vice-captain. Kid went back to check on both of you as well and to give Killer the new mask he created, but Killer, for the first time, didn’t want to wear it. He said he’d like to make sure you’ll see his face first rather than his mask.

Although a man who doesn’t know emotions, Kid respects his best friend's sentiment and gives him the time he needs to be with you. He strictly told everyone not to bother the first mate and to go directly to him, wire or heat for anything.

The next couple of days that followed were uneventful; the blood transfusion was a success, and who would’ve thought that the best possible match to donate blood to you was your captain, Kid. It's a good thing Kid wasn’t drinking at that time, so he was able to transfer his blood to you readily. You stayed in the infirmary for a whole week until Emma deemed you were well enough to walk around and move again.

Despite that, Killer was stern to keep you in bed. He insists you get more bed rest, or you might bleed again. The poor guy was quite traumatized, but you couldn’t say no, considering that you saw the state he was in when you finally woke up. 

He was sleeping, his head rested on the side of your bed, his hands were on your stomach, and the other was holding yours. You can still remember how tight his grip on your hands was like he was making sure you’ll still be there once he opened his eyes. You caressed his blonde hair with your free hand, and he jerked his head up instantly. You saw how tired he looked, exhaustion obvious in his beautiful face. You were even surprised he wasn’t wearing his mask.

Looking at him tenderly, caressing his face gently, you said his name, and all he could do was kiss your hands and gave you a series of I love you, and I’m sorry.

Emma, fill you in on what happened after you lost consciousness. “I wanna slap you so hard your head would go 360 on me, but then again…” she trailed off a bit before continuing. Guilt showing on her face. If she could’ve just supported you properly and earnestly, you probably wouldn’t have thought of leaving in the first place. “I’m glad you’re alive and now safe. I literally thought of poisoning myself to death if I failed to save you and the baby on time.” she chuckled, teary-eyed.

“Hey, don’t say that! You saved us, see? I’m breathing, and my baby’s well. You’ve already done so much for us, Emma. To be honest, if I only heeded your advice back then…” Emma stopped you, covering your mouth with her hand.

“Let’s not talk about that anymore. All’s well that ends well. Yes?” and you agreed. There’s no point in talking about the past. 

You cleared the misunderstanding between you and Killer. You’re back with your pirate family and the man you love, and everything is returning to normal. 

That is, after a long, heart-to-heart-ish conversation with your captain, though. You found it more challenging to talk to Kid than when you talked it out with Killer. He’s your captain, after all, and what you did was a disrespect to the man you swore your loyalty with. 

*Flashback*

You’re resting in your and Killer’s bedroom when you hear a knock on the door, and it opens. Thinking it was Killer, you slowly turned around to greet him, but the one staring back at you wasn’t Killer, but Eustass Kid, and you weren’t ready to have a conversation with him yet.

“Captain…” you mumbled softly.

His face was as grumpy as usual, “Don’t call me captain if you’re not going to stick around with me.”  he said flatly.

You can only bow your head in embarrassment and guilt. No form of apology you can give can amend the trust you broke when you left the crew behind. Kid might be furious but was only trying his best to contain it for Killer’s sake. You felt your eyes getting wet with the tears trying to fall.

“I-I’m so sorry, captain… It was never my intention to disrespect you and to hurt Killer. I-I only did it for the cre-...” You couldn’t finish your words because of what he did next.

Kid sat beside you, facing your direction, and forcedly hugged you. You winced in surprise but then relaxed after a few seconds. “Stupid,” he muttered. “I never asked for you to do everything or anything on your own. Don’t I always tell you to look after yourself more?”

His hug was tight but comforting. His arms were so strong that he could crush you instantly, but he was gentle to you instead. There was no hostility in that hug. Just a pure, genuine, loving hug. Like what a brother would give to his little sister.

Now the tears have finally escaped your eyes, and you could only hug him back while wailing out your apologies, to which Kid only listens. He was never good at emotions and words, so this is how he thought he could express his worries for you. Hoping you get the message and you did.

After a good 10 minutes, he broke the hug and stared at you. “Listen, Y/N. I fucking hate this moment with all this drama and shit, it’s awkward. But I’m fuckin’ doing it for you. Do you understand what I’m getting at?” you gave him a hearty laugh. 

Of course you do. The gesture was enough to make you feel that whatever you do, he’s your captain but is also your friend. The bond you shared with him and your pledge when you first joined his crew won’t change and falter. In fact, it might’ve been more substantial than before. His donating his blood to you says a lot about it. It was as if the transfusion was a blood pact sealing the bond between you.

Kid never hid the fact that he was still disappointed in you, though, and that you should make it up to him. You gladly agreed and promised to make him as many cabbage rolls as you can. 

*End*

The awkward, teary conversation ends there because prolonging the drama would surely make Kid sick. His letting you see his soft side was already a big deal on his part, and you sincerely appreciate the gesture.

The Victoria Punk was already sailing when you woke up, and here you are, walking around the deck to get some fresh air. Finally, you’re at peace. Everything has come to the right place after six months of hiding and guilt-tripping. You’ve found yourself back in the arms of the man you love so much, and your baby is safe and sound. What more can you ask for?

Strong, familiar arms wrap around you from behind. Their hands stop at your belly. “What causes you to think so deeply? Hmm?” Killer said while planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“Everything that had happened, I guess. Still can’t believe it was all because of my selfishness and failure to communicate properly with you.” you answered in all honesty.

Killer tensed and slowly turned you around to face him. “Hey, aren’t we done with that?” he asked, cupping your face.

You nod, “Yes, we are. It's just… it would still come to mind occasionally. But I’m fine.” you smile at him while holding his hands.

“Emma said you should stop thinking about stressful things. You shouldn’t even think of it at all.” you didn’t answer and just stared at him lovingly. He’s not perfect, and he has killed a lot of people. The same goes for you. You’re not sure if both of you will be good parents, but as long as the child gets his father’s traits, they will definitely grow as a good person.

You hugged Killer tightly, to his surprise. “I love you, Kil. I really do.”

“Where is this coming from? I love you more, of course.” he hugs you back, though not tightly, so as not to put pressure on your tummy when there’s a sudden kick from your belly. 

Both of you glance at each other before bursting into laughter. But Killer suddenly halted and cleared his throat. “Why’d you stop? You know how much we love hearing your laugh.” then there’s another visible kick from your tummy as if the baby agrees with you. “See? Our baby likes it, too. We love how you laugh, so no need to be ashamed of it.”

Killer only scratches his head, but you know he’s blushing inside that mask. He kneels in front of you to level himself with your belly. “Hey, bud. We love you, too. Please don’t make it too hard for momma. We don’t want to trouble her, right?” The baby kicked again like he was conversing with his father.

“I’m starting to get jealous. They’re more active when it’s you.” you pouted, which Killer only chuckled in return.

“Don’t worry, baby.” he said, standing up, “It only means they’re just like you since you love my attention, too.” he added, which made you blush.

“Stupid.” you retorted—face burning red.

“Hey, fuckin’ lovebirds! C’mere!” Kid shouted from a distance, and you know exactly what it is for.

“He’s still at it?” you ask Killer in disbelief.

“Well, he’s too excited, I guess.” he shrugged.

You made your way to Kid’s workshop to be presented with his current masterpiece. “Think it’s good. This one’s better, aye?” Kid asked.

You face-palmed after seeing the finished ‘project,’ as Kid calls it. “What version is this already?” you asked back.

Kid thought for a minute before answering, “version 9.” he said blatantly.

“Are you trying to open up a baby store?! Because at this rate, I think you do.” Killer grab your shoulders to calm you down.

“Don’t care. The others aren’t perfect.”

Kid’s so-called ‘project’ is creating a baby crib suitable for your child, and he was so passionate about it that he kept making an upgraded version. The one he’s presenting right now is the 9th crib he made this week.

“You do realize that you’re more excited than us parents, right?” you teased Kid—an amused grin forming on your lips.

Kid went silent at the accusation and slowly blushed in embarrassment. “I AM NOT!” he shouted.

You laughed so hard at his reaction and continued teasing, “Uh-huh. If you say so, Uncle Kid.” you said, emphasizing the last part. You grab Killer out of the workshop before you hear Kid yelling profanities at you.

“I think he likes his new title.” you told Killer while you both walked back to your shared room.

“He sure does.” Killer retorted, chuckling.

[roseofdarknessblog]

Everything Will Be Okay (Porco Galliard x Reader)

Word count: 3 285

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

TW: mentions of anxiety, depression, self-harm, suicide, swearing 

Everything Will Be Okay

„Want me to pick you up from school after work?“

„No need... I stayed home. Wasn’t feeling good.“

„Really? You promised me you would go today. Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?“

„Porco, please...“

„I’m being serious. You haven’t been to school for almost two weeks now. I know uni is different from high school, but still. You’re never going to get that degree if you keep on behaving like this.“

You put your phone down with teary eyes and pulled the blanket over your head. He was angry with you. Again. Just like the last couple of days. Most of them were spent arguing or in painful silence. It really hurt – the fact that your boyfriend wasn’t able to understand that you were getting bad again.

Severe anxiety and underlying depressive episodes were nothing new to you. They troubled you for most parts of your life and made almost everything unnecessarily hard and complicated. School, part-time jobs, and even social life. Making new friends was a nightmare. But dating was something even worst. On most days you were convinced that nobody would ever love you.

Why would they?

You were a total mess, your life had no real meaning and if you disappeared, probably nobody would even notice. Or care.

Well... at least that’s what your darkest thoughts wanted you to believe.

But then you met Porco Galliard. The two of you accidentally bumped into each other at a bookstore. You were carrying a huge pile of books and couldn’t see the boy walking towards you. And since he was occupied by the phone in his hand, he didn’t see you, either. Let’s just say that he wasn’t very happy when several books fell on his feet and even knocked the phone out of his hand.

You never felt more embarrassed in your entire life. Quickly apologizing you picked up your books and tried to leave the angrily cursing and hissing boy. But the stack was really heavy and you almost tripped over one of the rugs the bookstore floor was full of. Porco caught you just in time and helped you make it to the cash register safely by carrying the books for you. You apologized to him once more, thanked him, and did something you never dared to do before – you invited the boy for a coffee at the next-door caffé shop.

To this day you didn’t exactly know why you did it. But it felt right at that moment. Even more when he left you his number after saying goodbye to each other. And so after many more small cute dates and even more late-night calls and texts, the two of you became a couple.

With him, everything felt so natural and easy. You felt loved and appreciated. But most important... you felt safe. Safer than ever before.

„What’s going on? You’ve been acting really strange since we moved in together last week.“

„I don’t wanna talk about it through texts.“

„I get it, but you barely talk to me when I get home from work. It’s always Porco I’m tired, I’m just not in the mood, my head hurts... and stuff like that.“

He was right. You were avoiding him, which was a good starter for almost every argument the two of you had in the last couple of days. Porco was super excited for you to move in with him and even though you wanted to live with your boyfriend and spend as much time with him as possible, it was a huge change in your life.

And you were never good with those.

Starting a new school or work, going to some important place you have never been to before... it all triggered your anxiety and made every day a living hell. There were times when even your meds couldn’t help you feel better. You just had to wait it out, try to calm yourself, and simply push through.

„Everything's fine, I just... need some time to adjust.“

„Was moving really that bad? If you don’t want to live with me you can just say it, no need to make a big fuss around it. It just makes us both miserable.“

„No no no... I just...“

Your life kinda started to fall apart weeks before that. University was stressing you out on daily basis, you got fired from your job and had some nasty arguments with your parents. Porco became the only light in your daily life. The only thing that kept you going and distracted you from your darkest thoughts.

Until the day you saw him become frustrated with your mood swings, lack of energy, and desire to communicate properly. You cried yourself to sleep that night because you loved the boy so much and never wanted to hurt him in any way. He was always so kind and loving towards you, so how could you hurt him with your horrible behavior like that?

„I love you, Porco. And I’m so sorry.“

With that, you turned your phone off and hid it under the pillow.

You could feel sheer panic rising in your chest, it made your heart race and your hands shake. It took over your logical thinking and started to whisper horrible things to you. And even though you tried not to listen and give in, it was getting harder every single day.

You were so tired of everything always going wrong.

Tired of ruining your life over and over again.

Tired of being scared all the time.

Tired of being a burden to everyone.

Tired of trying.

You were just so tired of being yourself.

Porco was usually excited to leave his workplace behind and head home or somewhere else with you. But today he was dreading coming back to his apartment. He knew that behind closed doors awaited another stupid and pointless argument. It made him sad and disappointed – in himself, not you. He felt frustrated because you were shying away from him and didn't accept the help he was so desperately trying to offer.

Well... maybe it was because of his temper. He always was kind of impulsive and pretty stubborn. It was usually him, who started raising his voice and left halfway through the argument. But every time he promised himself that next time it would be different. He really tried to do his best each day because he loved you like no one else in his life. You meant the world to him and he would do anything for you. Anything.

„I fucked up.“

He texted his older brother as soon as he got to his car, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a second. Work has been crazy for the past few weeks. He was constantly stressed and tired, which made him even more nervous and agitated. But he had to keep up with his boss’s commands if he wanted the promotion which was at stake.

„Well, that’s nothing groundbreaking. I mean, you do that pretty often, baby brother.“

„Fuck you, Marcel.“

„Yeah, I love you too. So... tell me, what’s the problem? What did you do this time?“

„We’ve been arguing since she moved in and it’s only gettin' worse. I’m really starting to worry about her. Like... I know something is going on, but she just won’t tell me anything and keeps acting weird, kinda distant and cold.“

„Is she taking her meds properly? You know that she struggles with that sometimes, mostly when she’s feeling the worst.“

„She is, I make sure of it every morning before I leave for work.“

Porco knew for a long time now that you had serious mental issues. At first, he got a little scared but you telling him everything also made him really emotional. You trusted him enough to talk about something so personal. That day he went home and spent long hours on the internet reading everything he could about anxiety and depression – best coping methods, most effective treatment options, and such. He wanted to be prepared for every occasion you may need his help.

„I’ve been a dick to her lately, wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to dump my stupid ass. I never deserved her anyway.“

„Okay, stop right there! Putting yourself down won’t fix anything. You both need to sit down and talk your way through it like always. She loves you, I’m sure about that.“

„I love her too.“

„Yeah, I know. You’ve been head over heels for her from day one, wouldn’t talk about anything else.“

„Her phone has been off for the last hour or so. I’m kinda scared to go back home, don’t wanna argue again.“

„Get your ass to your car and go, you idiot! She needs you, so stop being a crybaby and be there for her. I bet she can’t wait for you, it’s been a long day. Try talking for a bit and if it doesn’t work, just spend time with her. Hug her, kiss her, reassure her that everything will be okay again. I don’t know... you know what works best in these kinds of situations for her.“

Marcel was right. As always. But Porco would never admit that out loud.

He got home as soon as he could. Speeding half of the way, not putting on any music which was unusual for Porco. A strong unpleasant feeling took over him. Why would you send him that last text and immediately turn your phone off? And why was he such an idiot and didn’t run home right away? Screw his boss and the shitload of work, you were far more important.

„Babe? I’m home!“ he shouted as soon as he unlocked the door to his apartment. It was nothing fancy, but just enough to feel comfortable, cozy, and safe. Enough to start his life with you by his side.

All the lights were out and the apartment was flooded with dead silence. That made chills run down his spine. Did you pack your stuff and went back to your parents? Was he really that horrible that you finally had enough of him?

„I’m sorry about earlier,“ he said a little hesitantly and made his way to the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, but no light was coming from the room. The floorboards softly creaked under his feet as he entered, made his way to the bed, and turned on the little lamp on his nightstand.

And there you were. Curled up under your favorite fuzzy blanket and hugging a plush lion he won for you at a festival you visited for your second date. A loving smile made its way to Porco’s lips as he leaned down and kissed your cheek softly, careful not to wake you up.

But that smile was gone in the same instant his eyes discovered what was laying on the bed next to you. A bright yellow makeup bag you used for keeping all your meds in one place. Anxiety and depression medications, some sleeping pills, and pain relievers you always had on hand because you got bad headaches pretty often.

„Shit, shit, shit... NO!“ he cursed loudly and turned you over to your back. „What the hell did you do?! Why? Why would you...“ His voice broke as tears started to collect in his eyes. Porco never felt more scared, never in his twenty-one years on this planet. His hands were shaking as he brushed back a few strands of hair from your face.

You looked so beautiful.

So peaceful.

So...

You stirred a little when a familiar voice interrupted your sleep. The first thing you saw as you opened your eyes was your boyfriend. He was finally home after another long day. Porco became such a workaholic that it made you worried sometimes. He wanted that promotion really badly, but it was slowly taking a toll on him.

„Porco?“ you said his name still half asleep and reached for his hand. The boy sitting next to you jumped a little, his eyes wide and face pale like he just saw a ghost. „What is it? You okay?“

„ME!“ he screamed at you, reaching to the other side of the bed and grabbing the pills you accidentally left there earlier. You went to get some water and when you came back, tears rolling down your cheeks, you just collapsed back under the blanket and didn’t care about putting the meds away. „How many did you take?! Do we need to go to the ER? Should I drive or call an ambulance?“

„What? No... Porco, listen...“ You quickly sat up and grabbed both of his hands, trying to look him in the eyes. Seeing them full of tears made your heart hurt. „Calm down, love. I’m fine, really. Nothing happened, I’m okay.“

„But... but...“ he stuttered looking confused and still scared to death.

„I only took one extra pill for my anxiety and one for sleeping. I felt like shit, pretty bad anxiety attacks kept coming and going the whole day. I just... I wanted to sleep it off, and you know I can’t fall asleep without pills when I’m like this.“

You hated taking all your meds, but they were very important. And you always reminded yourself that they are only temporary, with the right kind of therapy there was a big chance of making a full recovery. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but eventually.

„That’s why I turned my phone off,“ you added, leaning closer to him, and kissing his cheek. „And kinda because I was angry with you. But I didn’t want to hurt myself, I promise.“

It sometimes occurred to you, of course, it did. Depression was a nasty opponent and often made you question if it was really worth keeping on going. But there was so much to live for and you didn’t want to miss out on those things.

You never wanted to harm yourself... not really. All you wanted was to just silence the pain and break the numbness that sometimes took over your life.

„I really thought...“ whispered Porco in a broken tone and lowered his face into his palms.

„Come here.“ You carefully pulled him into a tight hug, resting your head on top of his. His whole body was still shaking slightly, heart pounding wildly in his chest. „I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna scare you like this.“ Your lips gently pressed a small kiss to his forehead when he lifted his head a little to look at you. „I’m really sorry, Porco.“

He shook his head, grabbed your face, and kissed you on the lips. Fear was mixing with love and relief as his lips parted and he kissed you even more intensely. More hungrily. More lovingly.

„I was horrible to you recently. My job is making me really stressed and I took it out on you like an idiot. As if I didn’t know you already had it pretty hard. With school, your parents, and moving in together.“

„Well, I wasn’t making it any easier for us.“

When your mental health got out of control, you just shut down and pushed everyone away. Sometimes even Porco who was desperately trying to get to you and help. He was capable of bringing you back from the darkest corners of your mind, but only when you let him. If not, there was nothing he could do. Just wait for you to fight back on your own.

„A lot of things happened recently and I got overwhelmed by everything. You know I’m not good with big changes, even if they are good ones.“

He suggesting you to come live with him was something spectacular. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep every night next to him and wake up the same way – in his loving embrace while he whispered how much he loved you. You wanted to create your own little home with him, and do all the little daily tasks around your shared place.

Porco liked to cook in his free time, so you were pretty excited about getting some delicious meals, and eating them together by candlelight and with his favorite music playing in the background. You wanted to share everything with him, every little detail of your daily life.

But life wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows. It wasn’t like that most of the time, but you still wanted nothing more, than for you two to be happy. To live peacefully and create a future you both would feel excited about.

„I love you,“ you said kissing his lips again. „I love you so much, Porco.“ He was still in shock, you could feel it as his tensed body was leaning against yours. Did you ever see him this scared? About anything? No, definitely not. He wasn’t that type, playing it cool and unbothered was mostly what he went with. „Please, just relax. I’m fine, everything is okay. You can count over my pills if you want to, hardly any of them are missing.“

„No, I believe you... I’m just... shit I really thought it was over and that it was my fault. I was horrible to you when you needed me. But I’m so incredibly sorry, you know I love you more than anything. Nothing should be more important than you and your needs.“

You carefully wiped tears away from his cheeks, lightly kissing the tip of his nose. He hated that but never said anything because his adorable frown always made you smile a little. „Porco, if anything ever happens, it will never be your fault. Understand? Never. Most days it’s you who keeps me going, who keeps me motivated to try over and over again. I want to get better for myself but also for you. For us. For our future together.“

He nodded slightly, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he kissed you on the shoulder, then on your neck and chin. Porco never was a big fan of physical contact... until the two of you met and he got comfortable around you. Since then he loved holding hands, hugging, and cuddling up to you in bed. He always wanted to feel you close to him, because your presence was the most comforting thing for him. Especially after a long day at work.

„I’m so tired,“ Porco muttered against your neck, leaning deeper into your embrace.

„It’s fine, we can sleep for a bit and have dinner later,“ you said and made yourself comfortable again, pulling Porco into the sheets with you. He lay on his back, inviting you to rest your head on his broad chest, so he can wrap his arms around you protectively.

„Are you feeling better now? Did the meds help?“ he asked quietly, playing with a few strands of your hair. „Or can I help somehow?“

„Just hold me for a while.“

Were you really feeling better? No, not really. Especially not after you scared your boyfriend like that. You were angry with yourself, how could you act so stupid and careless? But it was better to keep quiet and melt into his embrace. Every bad thought will pass... you knew that. They weren’t real and they didn’t have the power to hurt you. Not when Porco was there.

Love wasn’t some magical remedy for your messed up thoughts, heavy heart, and hurtful soul, but it really did help. Simply just laying there, listening to Porco’s once again calmly beating heart and playing with the buttons on his shirt he hated wearing to work.

You felt at ease like you could finally breathe a little better again.

Everything will be okay. 

Everything.

[loremonster]

Sorry About That, Technical Difficulties...

HOLY FUCK I'M ALIVE!

Sorry for the abcense folks. Long story short; my phone out and out died when I really needed it to make a mental health appointment, and hubby has head off to his next deployment. I take weeks to recover from unexpected upheavals, and those two getting stacked sorta put me in hibernation mode for a couple months.

Longer version;

Had a telehealth appointment with my meds manager. I remembered it, I planned my day around it, I'm on the web site and logged into the portal and ready to go 10 min early... for my phone to go black screened with no indicator lights when plugged in, and no response to forced restart buttons. It's hot to the touch so I legit stuck it in the fridge, and went to plan B to try and make my appointment- hop onto my laptop and join the video call that way.

My internet had gone out. I had to reset the router while getting progressively more panicked about being late because My Phone Is Dead so I can't call the clinic to tell them what happened and they can't call me to find out.

Thankfully, that is when hubby arrived home with some lunch. I was able to use his phone to call the clinic and tell them what was up, rescheduel my appointment, and attend that appointment to secure my next few months of refills.

My old phone was fully bricked. It cooled down, but plugging it in got nothing. Running down the battery to dead and then plugging it in did nothing. So hubby looked up what was on offer and ordered the new one I am using now, and it arrived a week later.

I really like the new phone. It's got a stylus! So I can art on the go even when I forget the trapper keeper with my traditional supplies in it :D

However, because I'm a paranoid bitch who refuses to make use of cloud systems because why wouldn't they copy every bit that runs through them? So I've been manually logging back into apps as I remember which of my six email addresses was associated with them 🤣 legit it took me until today to remember I made a new email for this specific Tumblr account so my notifs wouldn't set off my Professional Writer e-mail's notifications.

Today I just wanted to let folks know I'm Not Dead, tomorrow I'll answer asks that have been recieved while I was MIA. 💚

Big love to everyone, hope y'all are well

-Lore

[pbandjesse]

My allergies are making me feel very unwell right now. I'm hoping my meds start working soon because I took them over an hour ago and still nothing. I very much just want to sleep.

But there is much to talk about. Last night after I finished my post I made the mini cinnamon rolls and then jokingly got mad at James for moving the orange soda I left on the coffee table for two hours. Saying I was just coming back for it. And then we got into our off brand Lego flowers and sat down to watch the wedding video.

And I'll be honest, it starts alright. The b roll and shots around the monument are great. But the ceremony was framed weird and we are blocked by mics for a lot of it. And while the actual vows are filmed well, there is a lot of sound issues. And I would have liked to hear laughing from the audience more. I was glad the speeches were filmed. And I loved hearing the vows and speeches again. But I am just really disappointed in the quality of the video, the clips, the audio in parts, and the weird song choices. For some reason after the ceremony the rest is dubbed over with Rihanna. Even our first dance. I don't know why you would pick the song we actually danced to. And then it just ends with the final shot being two guests dancing that are Anne and Tucker's friends. No outro or anything. And I was just kind of bummed. I'm trying to not be upset, and I'm not falling apart like I was with the trailer. But it's not good. And I'm disappointed. In the video but also in our friend. Like we paid them more then any other vender outside of the venue and food. And it took 9 months. And it's just. Rushed at the end and not anything like I wanted. And it's just really disappointing. I am hoping James can talk to Brandon and maybe get the raw footage. Maybe I can make something closer to what I wanted. I don't really know much of editing but James does and maybe we can do something together.

We would go to bed pretty late. And neither of us really slept well. My neck hurt again when I woke up. Thankfully not as much as last week but still not good. I decided I was buying us new pillows today. Maybe that would help fix it.

When I woke up James was making me an omelet in the other room. Which was very sweet and would be a very good breakfast when I got to camp.

I got dressed and felt pretty good. My hair was kind of driving me crazy today but it was whatever. I really would like to dye it. Maybe this weekend when James is away that can be an activity for me.

But the day would be a nice one. I had a good walk this morning. Chatted with Bonnie and pet her dog Buddy. Went to see Ty and feed the goats an apple. I sat and talked with him for a while. He filled me in on petty drama and nonsense form the weekend. It was good to talk to him.

But I had to go and do my actual job. When I had gotten to work I knew the back was going to be messed up from color wars again. So I didn't go back right away and did everything else I needed to do before going and seeing what was up. And it was a mess. Materials wrecked and trash everywhere. I was very upset and felt pretty disrespected but it also just hurt my feelings. So I told the group chat just that. And reiterated that we should be leaving spaces better then we found them. It is just really frustrating.

I would get everything fixed though and after Mannie came up to see if he could help but he was to late for that. I still appreciated him asking. No one else did.

I started heading to the office and Annabelle would drive us down in the gator. Which is finally fixed. And I reminded Heather I would have to leave early next Monday. Made sure it's on the calendar. And went back to my building to wait for my group.

Who was late. All my overnights were late today. But it was fine. I was nervous about this. But everyone who loved it and it actually worked really well. A couple minutes after my first overnight came my new YLP, Anton, team and he's so good. I am almost convinced that he's Tatiana's boyfriend. But he has not said so so I will not say anything until he does. But he's very helpful. He does really want to be in the hammock which I understand and I told him he can when we don't have groups but I have him in charge of the hot glue gun station and so far no one has gotten hurt so that's good. And the kids are so creative with their puppets and that's just amazing to see.

The first two groups were girls and they made themselves and their animals and their friends and soccer players and it was just a lot of fun. And because they were so into the work I got to just sit to the side and watch them and give advice but also work on my knitting. All 144 squares are done and I'm starting to sew them together. I have five rows completed. I am making great time.

Lunch came pretty quickly and I wasn't going to go down. I had Left some of my omelette because I wasn't sure if lunch would be any good. But then Celia let me know that it was spaghetti so I would head down and got the biggest bowl possible for some reason. But it was still good. I didn't eat it all but it was a nice pass to even if the sauce was a little boring. I wish that there had been bread. But that's okay.

The afternoon groups also did a really good job. The first day camp group was a little more cautious about the hot glue but still seem to have a really good time and Anton did a really excellent job with them. He has a very good energy for the kids. He's 16 and he was trying his best and I really appreciate that.

Then we had our little break and I would lay outside and he laid inside and then we had bontkirchen.

And they did fine. They did string bracelets and two of them did metal casting. And I really only had a problem with one child who was also their last week wasting paint again. Because even though I told him please only pour as you go she keeps making entire pallets with all the colors and then only using like two of them and wasting all that pain it's so annoying. Stop wasting my paint! I keep telling you I don't have that much. So I had to talk to her counselor because her counselor also wanted to paint and I was like could you just share paint with her please. And that helped make me feel a little bit better about it. But then afterwards I leaned on the painted wood that the counselor made and got paid on my new dress. And it's fine I'm going to get paint on my clothing but it was just like seriously. Another thing I have to deal with with paint???!!

But I got over it pretty fast. We had our last day camp group and they were excellent. I really love day camp 10 and Trista is such a good counselor and really I just enjoy sitting and talking to her. And I really enjoyed sitting and talking to the kids as well. This was a solid group and I had a lot of fun with them.

For the last like 10-15 minutes of that hour I went inside to examine some things that Alicia, one of the counselors who was doing the Camp award and needed a service hour, sorting for me. One of my under cabinets is absolutely filed with plaster slip molds. And I have never taken them out or looked at them. And so she took them out and cataloged what they were and that was amazing. I chose half of them I thought we could reasonably do. Some are form the 1960s! And we, we being me, Anton, Alicia, and Louisa, would experiment with mixing plaster and using rubber bands to hold the molds. We ended duo with a radish, a ball, and a piece of corn. And I'm thrilled. This is going to be so much fun. I have no idea what I will do with them but ime excited to see what we can make.

We would clean up pretty fast. And I would spend a few minutes showing Louisa how to sew a whip stitch. And then I said goodbye to everyone.

I finished putting some stuff away while I talked to Louisa about how pillows are to expensive and then it was time to go.

I was not in a rush at all. And didn't mind waiting for Dachelle in the gator to give out snacks to the day campers by the pool. Even if I couldn't convince her to give me a rice krispie too.

Then I was heading to Marshalls. Where I found 4 pillows for less then what I had budgeted for two. And they are quoted and very soft. I got one thinner and one thicker for variety. I hope it helps my neck.

I also tried on some clothes. And got a black dress with a flattering front panel. It's like a corset triangle without the corset. Very pretty while still being really simple.

And then I went to pay. And found my wallet was not in my bag and I panicked.

The girl was really nice and made a note to hold the stuff for me. And I went to the car to see if it was there but no luck so I called James.

And they found it at home in my fanny pack. Which is the bag I used yesterday. I felt really stupid and upset with myself. But James talked me through adding my discover card to my Google wallet so I could pay with my phone. Which was really neat. I had to wait in line for a little but that was fine and I was able to pay. And then get rid of Google wallet form my phone because I don't want that. Feels unsafe. And then went home.

It took a while to get home. And I spilled lemonade on myself. So I was a little unhappy when I got back. But James was there. And sweetp was there. And things would be okay.

I took a quick shower and got changed and then we headed out. We were going to go to the brewery for dinner but they aren't open on Monday so to Michaels instead.

Where we go enough and only order one thing that the girl recognized us and was like. The usual? I've never had a usual before!!! So that was pretty cool. Though she gave me regular Pepsi instead of diet and James had to go ask her to swap it out and I felt bad. But the food was good and it was nice talking to my love and I felt good. I felt a lot better then I had.

After dinner James asked if I wanted ice cream but the line was to long and I didn't actually want ice cream I just wanted to spend time with them. So we didn't get any and went home instead.

When we got home we hung out. I laid in bed and enjoyed the new pillows. Eventually I would make more of the cinnamon rolls, called snail rolls, and when they were in the oven I asked James to watch them while I took a longer shower to hopefully help with the allergies that popped up when we got home.

And now we are in bed. Sweetp is here and seems to be in a much better mood. More cuddly. I am glad. I love him so much. And I love my James. And I hope we sleep better tonight.

Tomorrow I am hoping to feel good. Little to no neck pain. No wrist pain, which has subsided since I hit myself with the book but may be coming back, and I hope the weather is as nice as it was today.

I also hope to stay over. We might ride horses. And I am just looking forward to a good time. I hope you all have a good time too. Sleep well my friends. Goodnight

[amanitaoneday]

One day I remembered him

S O C K

Memories always hurt when they come back to me, so I avoid things that would make me remember. That's the only way I take care of myself.

"The medicine should help the thoughts."

Until the memories came back to me and I was stuck. My memories stuck like gum to the wall and I couldn't scrub it off. 

"Welcome back!! Oh look at you baby bro as handsome as ever."

He said I would remember him eventually but to be honest I don't wanna remember him at all. I had to deal with a lot recently and I just don't think my shitty brain can keep up with a lot of 'new' things. I don't like the tightening feeling in my chest and the feeling as if I'm about to die, so I'll just avoid it as much as I can.

"I brought your favorite." I looked towards the door to see him walking in with a bag I presumed to be filled with food.

"Not hungry." I gave the same excuse I gave everyone else who tried to offer me food. I heard him sigh deeply before hearing the bag slap on the counter. I turned my attention back to my phone wanting to tune him out.

"Don't be like that. Come on, I got you something, at least try to eat it. I know you and I know you try to give me excuses." I heard him start walking closer to me. I glanced up to see him reaching his arm out, most likely trying to get me to the kitchen or some weird sketchy thing. I rolled my eyes and turned to my side away from him. "Sorry, it slipped my mind that you don't like touching." He awkwardly said.

I don't even know this guy yet he says he knows so much about me.

I thought for a couple more seconds before sighing and glancing back at him. I closed my eyes and shook my head slightly.

"You know the least you could do is tell me your name." I quickly turned around to see him smiling before waving it off as if it was nothing.

"You still like burgers, right? With no tomato." Some guy comes to my place and says he knows me and acts like were some friends yet can’t be bothered to tell me his name? I don't want to talk about food and I don't want to sit down and chat with some random guy who says they're my friend. I just want to know why he’s here and why for me.

"I need air." I muttered. He looked up at me with a worried expression.

"Sock, are you okay? You look like you're about to pass out. Did you take your meds today?" I shook my head. I stood up quickly wanting to leave as soon as possible but I felt the room start to spin.

"N-no I guess it just slipped my mind." I grabbed my head feeling a sting and ringing. "I should just lay down." But before I could take a further step I ended up blacking out. At least that's what I think happened.

"Why are you crying? Are you a crybaby?" I looked up at this boy who seemed to be around my age. He was tall, that's for sure but he didn’t look older than me.

"It's none of your business." I turned away from him. "Just leave me alone." I groaned silently. He didn't leave me alone, instead he sat next to me. He was quiet while I cried. We sat there for an hour, it felt like, before he spoke up.

"What's your name?" Calling me a crybaby and now asking my name? What a weirdo.

"It's silly.” I rested my mouth on my arms. “I don't like my name." Who doesn't like their name? People laughed at me for mine so what would be the point in telling a stranger my name if they're just going to laugh at me too?

"Bet mines is worse." I turned to look at him and he smiled at me. "The names Saturn." He said with so much confidence. I thought how cool of his name was but I didn’t want it to go to his head or anything.

"You're lying." He shook his head and smiled slightly.

"I wish I was. My mom was very fond of space. When I was a baby she would go on and on about the stars and would tell me how she wishes she would have named me something else." I chuckled. He nudged me in the arm and said, "your turn." Mine wasn't as cool as his.

"Sock." I mumbled.

"Nice to meet you Sock." He held out his hand. I just stared at it. "I would like to be your friend." Friend? Me a friend?

"Y-yeah me too." I grabbed his hand and shook with so much urgency. No one had wanted to be my friend before. I slowly stopped suddenly feeling embarrassed.

He was the first person to not laugh at me. He was the first person who genuinely wanted to be my friend.

"-ck wakey wakey." I groaned.

"Shut up." I rubbed my eyes then opened them to only be greeted by a pair of emerald eyes staring back at me. I pushed him back then sat up quickly. "You asshole." I remember his name. I know him or at least I know part of him.

"Woah, I was helping you. I carried you to your bed and all I get is to be called an asshole?" I sighed then put my head down. My head was killing me and he wasn't helping the situation.

“Sorry. Bad dream I guess.” I couldn’t tell him. “I have to go.” I quickly got out of bed but I still felt dizzy.

“Be careful. I don’t think you should be going anywhere.” I brushed the hand away that was about to touch my shoulder. 

“I can handle myself.” I walked away to put my shoes on.

“Where are you going? What happened in the last twenty minutes?” I shrugged.

I looked at him for a second wanting to say something but I couldn’t. I was so mad at him I just ended up walking out of my place. My place? Why am I the one walking out?

Why out of all days did he have to come back? Why out of nowhere? I feel so mad at him yet I can’t think of what exactly why. It’s like my body remembers but I don’t.

"Are you okay Sock?" I turned and saw Mia staring at me. She was all bundled up with her gloves, snow boots, and big puffy coat. She was most likely going to play in the snow.

"I'm alright miss Mia I just need to clear my head." She smiled and walked over to me.

"Mama says to breathe when things are going fuzzy in your brain." I tried smiling but it felt useless.

"Yeah thank you miss Mia." She looked down and fiddled with her fingers. She would spin back and forth lightly.

"Are you going to your studio?" She mumbled, never looking up from her hands.

"Yeah I'm hoping painting will help me. Don't worry about me alright, miss Mia. Go play in the snow." I patted her head then turned to walk away.

"When you're done do you wanna play with me?" I hesitated but shook my head in the end.

"Sorry miss Mia, I don't like the snow. If you want you can come by the studio when you're done playing." I walked down the stairs and across the street to my studio.

I opened the front door shivering from how cold the room had gotten. I walked down the stairs leading to the studio room. There was a subtle smell of coffee and paint lingering, probably from a few days ago. I stared at the finished and unfinished paintings I have to work on before my manager calls me.

I groaned, feeling angry at him again for whatever reason. My memory of him is still coming back to me so there are some blotches in the reel that are missing. Maybe he’s some stalker and taking advantage of me and honestly I would have preferred that than somebody who knows me.

I was brought out of my thoughts when I heard my phone ring. I grabbed my phone from out of my pocket and looked at the name. I sighed before groaning.

"Yeah Te-"

"We're behind Sock! I thought you would've been done with the painting by now?! I know you and how you like to go at your own pace and I've left you to get things done on your own like always but this is the first time I've seen you so behind. The painting needs to be done by Thursday and you haven't even started it?! So-" As anxious as always.

"Tessa I really don't feel like having this conversation right now." I rubbed my forehead. My headache is getting worse.

"Sock I just need you to have it done or-"

"Alright just don't call me!" I screamed before hanging up. I tossed my phone on the couch and walked over to the unfinished paintings in the corner.

Ah great, now I have a headache.

"Why don't we ever go to your house?" I turned to look at him.

"My mom says we shouldn't. She says it has something to do with my cousin. I don't understand either but I don't want to ask questions." I looked back down at Saturn's game console he was playing. He died and I felt him poke my cheek.

"That's weird. Your cousin lives with you?" I nodded looking up at him then back down hoping he got the point to continue playing.

"Something happened so he's staying with us now. He doesn't come out of his room and he doesn't like talking to us but I like sitting by his door to make sure he's okay." He stayed still. I looked up to see him making a weird face before turning away from me.

"You should let him have his space. He probably doesn't like to be bothered." I turned away thinking maybe he really did want his space but I couldn’t help but think of him. I just want to make sure he's okay.

Memories play like a movie in my head. I'm sitting in an empty movie theater watching things that have already happened. When I don't remember what comes next the movie stops and turns off while the lights turn on blinding me.

I looked at the canvas. Blank. Empty, I have nothing.

"I can't think." I scoffed and put down the paintbrush. I walked over to the couch and plopped down on my stomach.

I wish he had never come back. I was fine without him. I could never hate the guy but he left without saying anything and he probably thought he could get away with it because of my bad memory.

An anchor,

"Sock, I came to play!"

Always held me down,

"Miss Mia I didn't think you'd be coming so soon."

So alone not knowing who was doing this,

"Mama said I can as long as you watch me."

Until I realized that he was the anchor holding me down.

"Of course. What would you like to do?"

I realized a month after he left that maybe I wasn't the problem in our friendship, maybe it was him. Always leaving for days on end and not telling me what he was doing then coming back like nothing had happened then the cycle repeating itself. Getting mad at me when I asked where he went so I stopped asking. When he did show up he'd reek of booze. He would always stay a month at most then leave. When he actually disappeared I thought it was like all those other times until a month had passed then two then after a while I stopped counting and eventually I stopped remembering him altogether.

"Sock, can I talk to you?" I looked up and saw Saturn staring down at me. I looked around and saw Mia had already left.

"I’m busy." I got up and picked up the paints Mia had been using.

"I think I know why-" I turned around and pushed him back lightly. “What was that for!?” I shook my head.

“Just stop.” I didn't want to hear it now. I wasn’t ready for what he wanted to say to me. “I don’t want to talk and I don’t want to listen to what you have to say to me. Just leave again. It’ll be best for both of us Saturn.” I continued cleaning the paintbrushes. “It’ll be easy to forget you again so-”

“I know why you called me an asshole. I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it but I-” still he didn’t listen to me.

"Stop doing this." Why can’t he just stop? It hurts because I know parts of him, the good parts but it also shouldn’t hurt because I barely even remember the other parts of him. "Because of you the memories came back which I didn't even want." He should've just stayed away.

"Wait, let me expla-.”

“No.” I want him gone but I also don’t. 

We stayed in silence for what felt like forever.

Everything feels so confusing now and I can't keep up with him and my paintings and making sure I get things done.

I knew that if he went away again I would feel better about all of this but why couldn’t I convince myself it would make me happier? Part of me can’t hate him which is why I know saying he should leave again feels like I'm chewing on sour candy.

“Hand me the paints.” We continued on. That’s probably what I wanted? Maybe it’s what I needed.

“Anything else?” For us to forget the past two years and go back to how we were.

I guess I was just feeling particularly lonely today. Maybe I’ll blame it on my loneliness or some other thing so I don’t have to keep thinking about it.

"My headache feels worse." After he handed me the paints he started moving again.

"I'll bring you some medicine." He walked to the table and grabbed the medicine. "Take better care of yourself." He held out a water bottle.

"Mm." I grabbed the medicine and the water bottle.

My anchor is back.

[potatopossums]

i have been in bed all day, sleeping and just existing. watching Chinese period dramas. trying to distract.

it's nighttime and i am tired. i don't want to be anywhere else but in bed. cozy and safe. i don't care what the mean thoughts say about my getting nothing done today. that's wildly untrue. i took my meds today, ate two whole abundant meals, prepped food for the next couple days; i let myself sleep when i felt myself dozing off; i watched engaging media; i even secured yet another new client for work.

i did not do nothing. i took care of myself and my feelings, i rested, and i took care of my future.

was i anxious? yes. did i make it through? yes. did i honor myself and my needs? yes.

that's all that matters.

[lifewithoutmeds]

October 23, 2022

I can’t believe I haven’t written in weeks.

So much has happened, and yet nothing at all. I don’t know why it’s so hard to write when I’m in the throes, highs or lows.

Lo ended up “basically having sex” with that girl that night, in her car, on some deserted street. i lost my mind, to say the least. and i still had several hours to not erupt/cry publicly before she left, and so we watched a movie, walked around the grove’s farmer’s market, and drove mostly silently in the car while i tried not to grip the steering wheel to hard and throw up. she sensed something was off but didn’t push it and neither did i.

for reasons that i still don’t understand, despite feeling all of the anger and betrayal and hurt, i still volunteered to get her some porto’s while she packed, though whilst doing i cried and called/texted everyone i knew and scream/cried at them.

anyway, we sort of reconciled some days later, and i texted her everything that i felt and she apologized and said some combination of she had no idea, thought we were just friends, and to not feel bad as this had happened to her before with previous “masc” friends.

somehow after my breakdown and the resolution, a new level of honesty and transparency really elevated our friendship. we text more than ever, leave each other voice messages, and have even spoken on the phone in real time. i’m weirdly very appreciative of her friendship and find it worth it all.

today is sunday, at 9:58 a.m., and i’m listening to some sort of “sad indie” mix on spotify and “discovering” new music. i’ve got a solid cup of coffee, the sky is blue, the sun is out, and the air is crisp. i already did a load of dishes, made my bed, and took my meds. this is a far cry from friday, in which i just slept the day away, occasionally got texts from jadai and cried, and ate orzo for like 2/3 meals for the past and next few days. i was in a really bad place. i hadn’t showered since like monday which was particularly problematic because i was going in for a microblading eyebrow touch up and wouldn’t be able to shower or wash my face/hair properly for a couple weeks, and so a smart person would have made it a point to take as deep a shower immediately prior, but i was not being a smart person.

i forget why jadai texted me in the first place, but i know that it made me feel bad. or rather, .... it reminded me of how bad i felt. it was grey, there was a chill in the air, that late October chill, that Halloween-adjacent chill that’s sharp and grey and cold and bitter, and the world seems drained of all hope and joy. and i had a really really hard time trying to make sense of what the purpose of life was, had trouble thinking of a single thing that would improve my mood, of anything that would make anything better. i just was frozen in the horror of a pained, yet meaningless existence.

it made me wonder if anything would have been different had she been there. i know she would have been frustrated that my sadness couldn’t be shaken, i know i would have felt slightly pressured to “feel better,” and that she wouldn’t let me just sleep all day. she’d have gotten me up on a walk and a shower, but ultimately she’d succumb to the palpable sadness too and i’d feel guilt, or i’d feel a modicum better but know it might’ve been enough for an hour or a day, but it’d run out, and .... there we’d be back again.

i also think she would have helped enormously, just being there. i would have loved to just be held by her, and know that this was the only calm from the storm, that this was the only gossamer of sanity keeping me grounded, but without it last friday, i felt truly lost. i was horrified at the prospect of the day continuing, of life continuing the way it would. 

a part of what exacerbated it was knowing she was doing so okay. she had spent the day climbing with iris and went to get food. her relationship was going well. she had cooper. her life just went on, just got better, i was just a bit of a launching point in which i encouraged her to follow her extracurricular interests, and now she was happily climbing, bicycling, playing board games, and camping, just with others, just without me. it made me sad that she could be so happy and fulfilled when i was so sad and unfulfilled. i don’t know why i couldn’t just feel happy for her, as i know i should.

yesterday was a transition day. after 12 hours of sleep, i managed to text a few friends, make lunch plans with lana for today (sunday), and tidied some of the mess made over the last few days. i may have even taken a shower. i also played hours of Final Fantasy 8 on my phone which i can’t tell was a good or bad thing, but i beat the T-Rexaur a couple times before my phone died without saving and i had to do it again in the morning.

i kind of came to the realization that .... as much as i am able, i have to try and not to succumb to every rollercoaster emotion i have. when i feel good, i can’t imagine feeling bad, and when i’m feeling bad, the notion of any goodness is completely out of reach, and i have to somehow train myself not to give in to whatever feeling i’m having at the moment as being “absolute truth,” especially when it’s negative.

on friday i tried not to reach out to too many people to complain of how bad i felt because i had a suspicion that the mood would at least somewhat lift by sunday, and then i would have concerned and wasted the time of friends for a mini crisis that would be forgotten just days later, but that time would still have been wasted.

and i guess i’m right, because the sadness has rolled through and left me still mostly intact. lana’s since canceled our lunch since sawyer had a fever last night that she doesn’t want to pass along to me, so my day has completely cleared up, and i’m not sure if i want to do anything to fill it. 

oh, i think one of the main things that i thought of on friday was how i felt so much of this year has been a waste. jadai’s been out of my life for 10 months and i have nothing to show for it. i’m not richer, fitter, more developed in my career, more enriched by meaningful friendships, not in the throes of a passionate romance. i think i have a few sort of benchmarks/indicators of what i consider to be success, or health, and those are: advancing in my career saving/making more money losing weight dressing better finding a partner making/strengthening friendships reading more writing more playing more guitar getting better at fishing/youtubing my fishing

on bad days, none of these markers mean anything, nothing makes any sense. everything is artifice, everything is construct, everything is circular thoughts and nonsensical chemicals twirling around and affecting me with no order.

but other days, i come out of it and i want to look back and see that some progress has been made. and i think i’d feel better if i came out of this somehow and some of those metrics had moved even ever so slightly in a positive direction.

[addisonlover]

hrhgjhgr ok hows abouts... how would the addisons act around their crush? that or like, yknow, try romancing their crush nstuff?

A/N: YESSSSSSS I love crushes they’re so cuuuute

How the Addisons act around their crush

Pink Addison

They’re so flamboyant it’s almost painful

Buys you whatever you want, if you’ve ever mentioned you wanted it, you have it

Gets flustered if you come out of nowhere and touch them

Very touchy but something about you just suddenly touching them makes them mushy

Gushes to their siblings about you 24/7

Is constantly trying to subtly impress you

Showing off how well they talk, dressing up extra well when they know they’ll see you, doing their makeup

Is always complimenting you on the smallest things, whether it’s something tiny or if you changed your whole look

Always lets you beta test all their new products

Specifically gets more products to sell that they think you’d like

Blue Addison

Constantly checks up on you whenever you can

“Did you take your meds? Make sure you ate first, you shouldn’t take meds on an empty stomach! And drink water too! Did you remember you had something you wanted to do today?”

Gets tongue tied around you and gets themself more and more flustered

Finds it harder to keep their thoughts to themself, unintentionally flirts with you

Tries to act cooler than they are but ends up tripping over their own feet

Likes to slip you gifts into your pockets since they get too embarrassed trying to give them to you face to face

Lots of small touches rather than doing things like draping themselves over you (cough cough Pink)

Likes to gift you homemade meals and foods they know you like

Orange Addison

It’s so painfully obvious that they have a crush, it’s almost funny

Gets very nervous around you but is always around you somehow

Doesn’t like touching you that often (they get flustered) but they do stand next to you as often as they can

Gives or sends you things that reminded them of you

“Hey this song sounds like you” “I thought you’d like this music box” “do you like sweets? I found something that looks good”

Backwardly asks you to hang out since they can’t ask straight up front

“Hey I’m free this weekend, I’m gonna be so bored, I have nothing to do.” Aka please ask him to hang out

Tends to follow you around like a lost puppy, it’s cute

Yellow Addison

LOUD and UNASHAMED

Makes it obvious that they feel some sort of way towards you but they’re so energetic that it’s hard to tell from time to time

Likes to tease people so they’re absolutely gonna tease you

Also very very touchy with their crush, tends to have at least one arm around you

Honestly enjoys the quieter moments you two share in private

Invites you over for things like game nights with their siblings (it’s so they can subtly introduce you to them)

Loves spending the night with you, they have a lot of sleepless nights so having you by them helps

Will take you to restaurants as pseudo dates, I only say pseudo because they forgot to actually tell you it’s a date

Loves to just be near you, plans out how they’re gonna confess every time you two hang out (they do eventually)

Spamton

Silly little sploinky with a crush??????? His siblings are gonna tease him to hell and back

Is also very nervous but does his best in hiding it

Is CONSTANTLY giving you gifts and offering to do things for you

Acts of service and gift giving are his biggest love languages, what can he say? He’s a gentleman

Just likes staring at you, imagining different things to do together one day

Going on a picnic date, dressing each other up, any sappy couple activity (if he could wuss up and confess)

He’ll confess through a letter one day, give it to you at the end of one of your hangouts and tells you not to open it until you get home

Always goes to his siblings for advice on how to impress you, how to look nicer, what they think you’d like, ect

Gets super flustered if you’re a very affectionate person, compliment him it makes his heart race

Tends to unconsciously put his hand into yours and get flustered if you point it out (it’s a habit from when he was little and held his siblings’ hands)

[tripleaxeldiaz]

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough. 

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him. 

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says. 

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above. 

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt. 

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong. 

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much. 

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start. 

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt. 

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers. 

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.” 

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his. 

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow. 

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

[justanobsessedfangirl]

The Sacrifice Part 1 - The Maze Runner Minho Imagine

Request from @elizabeth-brown hey when your requests will be open can you do 'the maze runner' one with minho. where one day when new greenie was coming up he had letter with him. on it there was written that if they sacrificed y/n they would let everyone out. so keepers decided to vote. most of them voted 'yes' so without any emotions Alby kick y/n into the maze. then minho realized his feelings. y/n survived the maze and WCKED took her. after one year she escaped WCKED and ran into the scorch. Minho missed her miserably. y/n searched the safe heaven. and when Group A searched safe heaven they saw y/n and she was so mad. you can end it however you want either she forgives them or not. and please tag me

Masterlist

Part 2

Warning: Some mature language

Author’s Note: Thanks for waiting! I changed up the request a little (I think?) but there will probably be a part 2 so I can do the stuff outside the Glade. Hope you like it! Also, I know it seems like my requests aren’t open because I take forever to post, but I swear they are. :)

Word Count: 4.6k

The Box came up every month like clockwork. Half an hour before its arrival, a blaring alarm would sound. Gladers would trickle in from the Gardens, the Med-jack Hut, the Homestead, and gather around the hole. Those who had requested items would push their way to the front. Others lingered around the edges, hoping for a glimpse of the new Greenie.

“Maybe it’ll be another girl,” they’d whisper.

“Maybe it’ll be another shank,” their friends would whisper back, and the boys would shove each other and laugh and make jokes until the Box slotted into place and the roof slid away, revealing the Glade’s next victim.

You were an unnatural fit to the routine. You’d disrupted it right from the beginning, with your arrival as the first female Glader. Now, months later, you still hadn’t formed many strong bonds. It was hard when you were rarely in the Glade during the day, spending most of your hours mapping the Maze. No one was directly cruel when you had a day off, but it was clear that this was a brotherhood, and you did not meet the requirements. You were an “other.” You were a girl. You were something to be looked at and talked about but you weren’t necessarily someone.

You didn’t feel like an outsider when you ran with Minho. He treated you like a person. Like a friend. So did Newt, although your time with him was limited to bonfires, where you drank Gally’s moonshine and talked.

Just the memories of those nights made you feel warm, even as you stood apart from the boys around the Box and prayed for another girl to appear. You stood on your tiptoes and tried to peer over the crowd. Through gaps and over heads, you caught a glimpse of a boy in the Box. He was younger than you, probably younger than most of the people in the Glade, with curly brown hair, round pink cheeks, and wide, fear-filled eyes. 

Alby jumped down into the Box. Laughter rose from the crowd as the young Greenie backpedaled so wildly that he tripped over his feet and slammed onto his butt. Next to you, a group of Gladers jeered. You frowned at them, watching their smiles slip into sneers. They looked away from you. Inside the Box, the Greenie cried, “Please don’t hurt me!” His already high, youthful voice was pitched even higher with terror.

You felt a stab in your chest. He sounded so young, so alone, so scared. Taking a step forward, you came to the edge of a thick knot of Gladers. They catcalled and hollered and cackled, slapping each other on the backs. One noticed you and quickly jerked away like you were contagious.

Cheeks burning, you stepped back again. You gave the crowd one last look, heard the Greenie blubber one last time, and headed for the Homestead, where there was no one to make you feel unwelcome or weak for feeling sympathy for the new Greenie.

Besides, you thought bitterly, they might make fun of him now, but he’ll still be one of them.

A few Gladers saw you go; most were focused on the Greenie, who Alby was trying to coax to his side of the Box, where someone had dropped a length of rope. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Alby said. Impatience wore thin on his voice. “Just come over here.”

The Greenie stayed curled in a ball in the middle of the Box.

Alby shook his head. Turning to the pair of boys above him, he lowered his voice and said, “Do you think Y/N could try to get him out?”

The Gladers looked at each other.

“Isn’t she running today?” one asked.

“I haven’t seen her all day,” the other added.

Alby frowned. “Fine,” he sighed, “we’ll do it the hard way.”

At that, the two Gladers joined Alby in the Box. The Greenie’s eyes bulged as they approached. He tried to scoot back. In seconds, the pair was on him, lifting him as easily as if he weighed nothing. They toted him to the rope.

The Greenie gasped. “Wait! Wait! I dropped it!”

Alby waved the boys on before they could stop. “I’ll get it.” While the Gladers hoisted the Greenie out, Alby walked to the center of the Box. Laying on the metal floor was a card of paper, pristinely white save for the 10 grimy fingerprints of the crying Greenie. Alby knelt, picked it up, flipped it over, and froze.

It seemed like an eternity before he stood again. Around him, the Gladers still talked and laughed. Around him, the Gladers still thought they were following their routine.

Holding the note in his hand, Alby commanded, “Gathering in the Homestead. Now.” After a beat of silence, he added, “If Y/N’s here, bring her.”

The Glade burst into a flurry of activity. Boys scrambled, yelling the news. Their Keepers chastised them and handed out work orders like candy. Feeling brave and uninhibited and a little frenzied, Gladers complained and groaned and manhandled each other and ran. The new Greenie was handed off to a Builder, then a Slicer, then rescued by a Gardener. A pack of Gladers took off for the Homestead.

You’d barely made it inside before your moment of alone time was shattered. The boys whooped and hollered and shouted as they sprinted toward you.

“Gathering!”

“You have to go!”

“Alby called for a Gathering!

Their voices came at you like bullets, one after another after another. Your questions fell on deaf ears. “Why a Gathering? Now? Did you say I have to go?”

They kept talking to each other, ignoring you even as they pushed you farther inside, pushed you toward the meeting room, pushed you like you couldn’t even walk by yourself. You shoved away from them and entered the room on your own two shaky feet. Only a few of the Gladers followed, taking their seats as Keepers.

With a sick sludge of anxiety swirling in your stomach, you looked around the room. You’d never been to a Gathering before, although you’d listened to Minho complain about how boring they were many times. The room was small, the only furniture a crudely made table surrounded by twelve seats, one for each Keeper plus Alby and Newt. There was no seat for you. You were not supposed to be here.

“Clint, what’s going on?”

The Keeper of the Med-jacks looked up at the sound of your voice. He’d been staring at the tabletop, tracing his finger along the wood grain. His hands were thin, his fingers long, and they held a delicate strength, accustomed to wrapping wounds and sewing stitches. “Alby called a Gathering,” Clint said.

“Yeah, I figured that part out. Why? And why am I here?” You tried to keep your emotions under control. Clint didn’t need to know you were a little annoyed, a little angry, a little worried. Clint and the growing mob of Keepers filing into the room didn’t need to know you were scared.

Clint looked to the head of the table. Two empty chairs sat waiting. “Alby didn’t explain much. I think it was something to do with the Greenie.”

“The Greenie?” you asked, just as someone gave you a harsh nudge to the side. You whipped around and found yourself staring up at Gally.

“Don’t block the doorway,” he snapped. Before you could reply, Gally was walking past you, settling into the seat closest to the head of the table.

Most of the chairs were filled now. Some Keepers looked at you, others talked with their neighbors, and a few, like Clint, seemed like they’d rather be anywhere else but here. You lingered by the door. After a couple of minutes, Alby and Newt entered together.

You knew something was wrong immediately. Alby’s face, stoic at the best of times, was downright grim, like he’d just witnessed a terrible crime against humanity. Newt wouldn’t even lift his eyes to yours. His skin had taken on a pallor, pale white tinged with sickly green.

“Alby-”

Alby interrupted you. “Where’s Minho?”

You weren’t sure if he was asking you or the Keepers, but you answered anyway. “He’s running. What’s going-”

Cursing under his breath, Alby strode to the head of the table. “Someone got the schedules mixed up,” he fumed. “They thought you were running today. Minho is supposed to be here.”

“Maybe we should wait-”

“This can’t wait, Newt. You know that.” Alby shot Newt’s suggestion down before it even had time to breathe. “Y/N, take Minho’s seat. And someone shut the door.”

You didn’t like the way Alby was barking out orders or the way Newt had slumped into his seat like an admonished puppy. The whole world was off-kilter, just slightly, but enough that you felt nauseous and hyper-aware. Clint was still picking at the table. Winston was sitting next to Gally, who was staring daggers at you, and Zart, who had his arms crossed and was sitting straight in his chair, looked disgusted at something Doug, the Keeper of the Sloppers, had just said. Frypan was the one to get up and close the door, giving you a reassuring smile as he walked. You slowly made your way around the table to the only empty chair. It was across from Gally, right next to the side that Alby and Newt sat behind. 

Newt flinched away from you as you sat. Alby eyed you, waiting, waiting, waiting, and, finally, with the door closed and you perched on Minho’s chair, ready to bolt, he said, “We’re holding a Gathering because of this.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “The new Greenie was holding it.”

Down the table, Winston smirked. “Is that why he was crying? Poor thing can’t read?”

You frowned. One of the Keepers, Billy, chuckled lightly.

Alby ignored them and continued, “It’s a note from the Creators.” A few murmurs arose; Alby didn’t speak until it was silent again. “It says,” he cleared his throat and, next to him, Newt looked as if he might puke. “It says, ‘The Glade is failing. Show you can follow instructions and you will be released.’” Alby paused.

Unlike before, the Keepers stayed quiet. You were on the edge of your seat, listening with bated breath, like all of the others. Maybe the instructions involved finding something in the Maze? You knew you could help with that, and maybe Alby knew it too, and that’s why he’d made you attend the Gathering. You could nearly taste the freedom on your lips. Under the table, your legs shook with excitement, energy, adrenaline -- everything that made you feel alive. What would life be like outside the Glade? 

“Tell them the instructions, Alby,” Newt whispered, voice strained.

Your hopeful heartbeat faltered.

Alby’s eyes flicked up from the paper, met yours, and shot back down.

Something like dread filled your chest.

“‘Show you can follow instructions and you will be released,’” Alby repeated. He drew a deep breath before continuing. “Sacrifice Y/N to the Maze. Tonight.’”

One second passed. Inside that second, there was an eternity, an infinity, a lifetime. Your lifetime. Every limb of your body became paralyzed. You felt liquid. You felt insubstantial and invisible, only you were the farthest thing from invisible, because every single person in the room, all ten Keepers and Alby and Newt, even Newt, who wouldn’t meet your eyes before because he’d already condemned you to death, was staring.

And then the room roared.

“They’re lying!”

“That’s insane!”

“They can’t ask us to do that!”

“We can’t trust them!”

“I’m not doing that!”

“What if it’s true?”

The last voice, soft, barely audible, silenced everyone.

You stared at Gally, jaw dropped. “What?” You could barely speak above a whisper. Your vocal cords were constricting, choking you. Every breath felt like your last.

Gally’s gaze stayed on the letter in Alby’s hands. His eyes were glazed and his whole demeanor, normally stubborn and stand-offish, had shifted into quiet contemplation. “What if it’s true?” he murmured. “What if this is our way out? What if this is what we’ve been waiting for?”

The other Keepers began to speak. Instead of ardent protestations, you heard questions. So many questions and no definitive answers, except for Gally’s. The room spun around you, swirling, swirling, swirling. Your skin was flushed and cold and sweating and freezing all at the same time.

“He might be right,” you heard.

In an instant, you shot to your feet. The chair that Minho should have been sitting in clattered to the floor, silencing the Keepers. “Guys, this-this is insane,” you pleaded. Every face was a blur, a smear, no distinguishable people anywhere. You didn’t know a single boy in this room. “The Creators have never asked us to do something like this. They locked us in here! They-they...they put monsters in the Maze to kill us!”

“Maybe not to kill us.” Billy, the Keeper of the Baggers, was a boy of few words. He never seemed to have much to say, maybe because he’d gotten used to such solitary work. Most of the time, the only Gladers he was around were dead. “Maybe the monsters are there to kill you.”

Panicked tears burned in the corners of your eyes. Gally was nodding. So was Winston. Too many of them were nodding or looking down, pretending they didn’t have a say, hope gleaming in their eyes and betraying their thoughts.

You turned to your leaders. “Alby, this can’t--we can’t--”

“We’re going to vote on it.”

You switched tactics. “Newt. Newt, please, please look at me. This is crazy. We can get out without doing this, we can--I’ll run more and we’ll...we’ll figure something out, just, please, don’t--please just look at me.”

Newt slowly lifted his head. In the background, the Keepers talked, rising from their seats, growing more animated, more determined. Unshed tears glimmered in Newt’s eyes. “Y/N,” he said, and in your name you heard an apology. “This could be our only chance.”

“It can’t be.” You moved forward, desperate. “It can’t be our only chance, we’ll figure something out, I know we can, we just need to--” You were babbling and stepping closer and your hands reached out to grab his arms, to shake him, to knock some sense into all of them, and then Alby’s low, commanding voice rang out, ordering everyone to sit, and you were left standing, crying, terrified, and so, so, so alone.

“If anyone wants to see the note, there.” Alby dropped it onto the table. Across from you, Gally picked it up, scanned it, and passed it to the boy next to him, Winston. From Winston to Billy to Clint to Frypan to Ozzy to Doug to Zart to Leon. To you. With trembling hands, you held the note, saw the words, tried to read them and make sense of them, only nothing made sense at all.

Sacrifice Y/N to the Maze. Sacrifice Y/N. Sacrifice sacrifice sacrifice.

The more you repeated it in your head, the less real it sounded. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be happening.

“We have to make a decision,” Alby said.

Lungs squeezing painfully, you tried to speak. No words came out.

“I think it’s obvious,” Gally said. “Everything changed as soon as she got here. Now the Creators want us to do something, so we should do it.” He sounded more certain the more he spoke, his voice and words building to a persuasive, powerful crescendo.

“We could get out,” Winston added eagerly.

Clint pushed back his chair and slowly rose to his feet. He looked uncomfortable being the center of attention. One of his hands stayed on the table, scrambling for support. “I think it’s important,” he said, “that we think this through and give it the weight it deserves. This is someone’s life we’re talking about.”

It’s my life, you wanted to scream. I’ve tried to be a part of your group! I’m a Glader!

Clint continued. “But we also have to think about everyone else, too. I’m sorry, Y/N, I really am. But your sacrifice could mean that everyone else here can live.” Clint sunk back into his seat. “My vote is to obey the Creators.”

“Clint--” You were drowned out by Gally and Winston and Billy agreeing, formally voting to kill you. Gally nodded down at Ozzy, the Keeper of the Bricknicks, and then Ozzy said, “I vote to obey the Creators too.”

Leon agreed next. Leon, the Keeper of the Maps, who you’d spoken to nearly every day since becoming a Runner. Leon, who you’d sometimes traded jokes with and complimented for his drawing skills. Leon, who, after voting, said, “I’ve spent all of my time in the Glade trying to get out,” like it was an explanation you wanted to hear. Like it would mean it was okay for them to throw your life away. He wouldn’t look at you, still standing, half-slumped against the table as your legs wobbled with each vote that damned you to being ripped apart by Grievers.

“Guys, please,” you said, or you thought you said, but maybe they didn’t hear because now Frypan was standing up.

“I haven’t seen a Griever up close, I don’t know what it’s like in the Maze, and I don’t know what it’s like to patch up people who have done all of that. I know that Y/N’s a Glader. That’s all I need. I vote no.” Frypan nodded at you and sat back down, his normally easy-going face creased in deep thought.

One voice. One against six. But one was all you needed; one gave you a shot of strength, enough for you to straighten up, to open your mouth, to instead hear Doug say, “I haven’t done any of that either but I know that I don’t want to spend another goddamn minute in this Glade. I vote yes.”

The room spun. You looked down at your hands, found them in your lap, realized you were sitting but couldn’t remember ever doing so. Everything was slipping through your fingers so fast, too fast, impossibly fast.

Seven.

“My vote doesn’t matter much now,” Zart began, his words ponderous and slow. “But I vote no.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, as if daring anyone to question him.

Gally turned his attention to Alby and Newt instead. “So we’re doing it?”

Alby frowned. Newt buried his face in his hands. You thought you might pass out.

“Seven is a majority. It doesn’t matter our votes,” Alby said. “Or Minho’s.”

“Or mine.” The table turned to you. “I don’t get a say in any of this? It’s my life.” You knew your voice was too high-pitched, too warbled, too girlish to be taken seriously. You swallowed and it came out even more panicked. “You can’t just kill me with a one-vote difference, you can’t just--”

“It wouldn’t be a one-vote difference. I vote to obey the Creators.” Alby stared unwaveringly at you. “Newt agreed before the Gathering. That makes it nine to four, assuming Minho would vote not to obey.”

“Why?” It came out strangled and mangled and desperate.

“For the Glade,” Alby responded.

Newt suddenly looked up, shaking his head. “No, no, I take my vote back. I vote no. We can’t do this, Alby.”

“Eight to five. The majority says to obey. It happens tonight.”

“Alby--” “Alby, please,” You and Newt protested together, but Alby’s voice boomed over both of yours. “Gathering over. Gally, Winston, take Y/N to the Pit until tonight.”

Newt stood up too fast and stumbled, nearly crashing into the table. “We can’t put her in the Pit!”

The sound of arguing and chairs being pushed back washed over you, filling your ears with white noise. Chills raced up and down your spine, sending a clamminess to your hands and feet. You were going to die. You were going to be torn apart by Grievers, the very monsters you’d spent so much time running away from. It was almost ironic, really, and you almost laughed until you realized it was a sob, until you realized there were tears streaming down your face and there were two sets of hands grabbing you by the arms and hoisting you up and leading you out of the room and down the hall, practically dragging you for all of the good your feet did. And then you were in the doorway of a dark, windowless room, and Newt was standing in front of you. He enveloped you in a hug, spewing apologies about the vote and the room and your fate. All too soon, he pulled away. You saw his brown eyes and tear-streaked face. You saw the door close. You saw darkness.

You sagged to the floor and cried.

Hours passed. The room had no windows for you to watch the sun move across the sky, silently counting down to the end of your life. You had tried a few times to shove the door open,  but you only succeeded in bursting out between two strong Gladers. After the first time, they were ready for any attempt of yours to sprint past. Sometimes their voices would seep through the cracks in the wood. Apologies and excuses and pleas for you to please, just please, do this one thing for the Glade and help them all survive.

Part of you thought they were right. What if your sole purpose was to be a sacrifice? But then you thought of Minho and running and laughing and the few flickering memories you had from before the Glade, of an older couple smiling at you or the warm feeling of being loved, and you remembered how it felt to be alive. And you knew that it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, for anyone but you to get to decide your death.

Your time alone helped you think. It helped you settle yourself, calm your mind, and dry your tears. But as soon as the door opened and you saw the sunlight fading from the hallway, all of your carefully planned entreaties faded from your lips. Your throat went dry with impending doom.

“It’s time. Alby’s waiting by the Maze,” one of the Gladers said. You didn’t even know who he was. Why hadn’t you gotten closer to him? To all of them? Maybe if you hadn’t been so solitary, maybe you could have...or they could have...or maybe...

“What’s your name?” you heard yourself ask as the guards flanked you down the hall.

He gave you a look of confusion. “Rob.”

“Rob,” you repeated. Rob led the way outside. You glanced over your shoulder at the other Glader. “What about you?”

“I’m David,” the one behind you answered. He hastened to walk beside you. David had stubby legs, two of his steps matching one of yours. You picked up your pace. Rob matched it easily; David lagged.

Over the Glade, the sun was nearly below the horizon. Gladers milled about but kept their distance from you, trying not to stare at the doomed prisoner. It was like you were already dead. And no one cared.

The wall loomed high above you, growing as your entourage got closer and closer. Huddled near one of the entrances was a group of Gladers. When you neared a hundred feet away from them, you slowed. David followed suit immediately. Rob’s lengthy strides shortened.

“David, Rob,” you addressed them by name, not looking at either even as they faced you. “Thanks for walking with me.” Then you bolted for the Maze.

David had no chance of catching up to you, Rob was just stunned enough to give you the head start you needed, and the group of Gladers only shouted as you closed the distance to the door.

My choice, the pounding of your feet seemed to shout. My choice. My life. You may have been minutes away from death, but you had never felt so alive. Adrenaline flooded your body. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. All of the cold fear had been replaced by the warmth of energy. One last choice, you thought. The open door called to you. 20 feet. 5 feet. You’d just crossed the entrance when one voice made itself known above the crowd.

“Y/N!”

Every muscle tensed, you spun around to see Minho sprinting after you, the group of Gladers following, none as fast as your partner. He crashed into you with the tightest hug of your life. Your body reacted before your mind knew how; you hugged him back.

“I couldn’t let you go without seeing you,” Minho blurted, his lips an inch from your ear. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t…” he trailed off. Loosening his hold, he pulled back enough to see your face. He stared at you like he wanted to memorize you. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am, Y/N, I can’t let you do this yourself. With two of us we could--”

“Die. We’d both die.” You pulled him close again, burying your head back in the crook of his neck, hating the fear in his eyes. You’d wanted your last memory of him to be a smile, not this.

He spoke more softly now. “If we had supplies, I bet we could do it. I’ll raid the kitchen, the Med-jack Hut, bring us weapons. We could find the way out. You don’t have to die. You can’t die.”

You wanted him to stop talking, because you couldn’t extinguish the little flame of hope blooming in your chest if he kept feeding it. “Minho-”

Minho cut you off. “You can do this, Y/N. You’re fast, faster than me, and a hell of a lot smarter than all of these shanks combined. Survive the night. Survive the night and I can bring you supplies tomorrow.” His voice had an edge to it, a fierce desperation you’d never heard from Minho. Inside his encouragement, he was pleading with you. “Fuck, Y/N, please survive the night. Meet me at the intersection past the west door when the sun rises. I fell there the first time we ran together, remember? I said it was because you ran funny and it made me lose concentration but it was actually because you looked so beautiful in the sunrise that I couldn’t think.” He took a deep breath. Your heart beat too quickly, running on hope and support and maybe a little bit of love. When Minho spoke again, his voice was solemn, “I’ll find you, I swear to God. We’ll figure it out together. We’ll get out together.”

“I’ll survive.” You were lying. “I’ll try.” Was that another lie? Everything was moving too quickly.

Alby’s voice stopped you from thinking any further. “It’s time,” he intoned. 

From your place in Minho’s arms, you saw that the group of Gladers, composed mostly of Keepers, had surrounded you in a semicircle. The way forward was blocked; your only way out was the Maze.

You and Minho separated slowly. Behind you, the Maze rumbled. Still, Minho held your hand in his, looking physically pained. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, hoping, desperate, pleading. 

You nodded.

Minho shook his head. “Please say it back, Y/N. Please.”

You glanced at the door starting to close, then at Alby, who stared hard-eyed at you and motioned for the Gladers to press in. You couldn’t find Newt in the crowd. Minho’s hand was heavy and warm in yours. Comforting.

With your last moments in the Glade, you darted close to Minho, pressed your lips to his cheek, and then slipped away from him, entering the Maze. The door thudded closed behind you. The sun had set. You were alone.

[warmblanketwhump]

flight plan: part 2

no planes in this one - just some good old-fashioned sickfic! But if you want the backstory, check out part 1 here.

“A, can you hand me my glass of water? Pleaaaase?” B sticks out their bottom lip in a pout, and A can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, you. It’s been four days and I know you’re getting better, because you’re getting pesky again.” A straightens the blankets and slides their hand up to feel B’s cheek. “Still a little warm, but I think you’re on your way out of the woods.”

“So I should milk this while I can?” B flutters their eyelashes and gives a pitifully fake cough, which slips into a real one, sharp and rattling. Concern flits across A’s eyes, and they help B take a few sips from the glass.

Despite the joking, A didn’t kid themselves about how sick B had been, or how awful they’d truly felt after getting off the plane. The first two days had been nightmarish - B barely conscious, shivering with chills and sweating through their sheets, alternating between terrifying fever dreams and inconsolable moaning and weeping.

A did their best to hold them through it, but they had been minutes away from hauling B to the hospital. Thankfully B’s fever had spiked just one final time before settling into general low-grade misery.

“As long as you need me, sweetheart, you’ve got me.” B gives a tired smile and pulls the blanket to their chin, huddling around the new stuffed animal A gave them at the airport.

“Did you call C?”

“Ah, not yet. Too busy with you, ya sick little bean.” A gently fluffs B’s hair. “You rest, and I’ll give them a call now.”

But C doesn’t pick up. Nor do they pick up an hour later, leaving A stuck with the unpleasant task of leaving a voicemail.

“Um, hi…this is A. I just wanted to call and let you know that B’s on the mend. They’re still pretty weak, but I think things are looking up. So…yeah. Thanks for everything you did for B - once they were feeling better, they told me all about what you did. And I…well, I care a lot about them. Obviously. So I appreciate it. I guess you can call back if you-”

The message cuts off, and A groans. Hopefully that was enough. Still, they couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of their stomach.

Later, they settle in with B to watch a movie, B’s head cradled in their lap as A combs their fingers soothingly through their hair, reveling in the sheer normalcy of it all. They both end up falling asleep, and when A blinks awake as the credits roll, they notice a missed call from C. B’s still out, so they click to listen to the voicemail.

“Hey, A….sorry I *coughs*…missed you earlier. Wasn’t able to *sniffs* make it to the phone. So glad to hear that B’s *cough cough* doing better. I think they did a little sharing.” C laughs weakly, but A can hear the sheer exhaustion in their voice. “Anyways, glad they had you. And if you’ve got any survival tips, feel free to pass them along…..I’m just kidding. *cough* I’ll be fine. Anyways, I’ll…see you around, I guess.” They pause briefly, like they want to say something more, but a coughing fit steals their breath away, and the message ends with a click cutting off the rough gasps.

The pit in A’s stomach comes back. C sounds sick.

“Who….who was that?” B mumbles from their spot on A’s lap.

“It was C. They called back and they….didn’t sound so good.”

B’s eyes snap to meet A’s, more alert than they have been in days. “Did they sound like me?”

C pauses. They hadn’t thought about not telling B, but in hindsight, maybe they should have. After all, it’d only flood B with guilt, and they needed all the energy they had to get well. But one look at B’s concern, and they knew they wouldn’t be able to lie.

“Yeah. They did.” Immediately B struggles to push themselves up, throwing their blanket off their shoulders and trying to stand.

“Whoa, hold it there. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To C. If they’re sick, it’s from me, and if any hints from the past four days of living with me are any indication, we gotta help them.”

A throws their hands up, pressing B back on the couch. “Hold up. We don’t know them, we don’t know if someone’s already taking care of them, and we don’t know where they live. I’m sure they’re-“

B frantically shakes their head. “You didn’t hear them. On the plane. From what they said…I don’t think they have anyone. I have to go.”

A chews their lip. “Well, let’s get things straight first. You’re in no shape to go help them. Which leaves me. A random stranger they don’t know. And you want me to check on them?”

The question was meant to be sarcastic, but B nods vigorously and fear fills their eyes with a fevered anxiety. “A, you saw how sick I was. You think anyone’s gonna be able to fight through that alone?”

A sighs wearily. They could blame it on the fact that arguing with a sick B was like arguing with a brick wall. But truthfully, what did their heart in was the thought of B alone on that plane, sick and shivering and miserable, if C hadn’t helped.

Fine. They’d send a text.

You okay? You sounded kinda rough on the phone. B was worried….

A few moments later, C responds.

Eh, I’ve felt better. But thank you for asking. And tell B not to feel bad. They were a better seatmate than most.

A smile tugs at A. At least this C was polite.

Is there anything you need? B said something about you being by yourself.

This pause was longer. The dots appeared and disappeared a few times, before a message came through.

I hate to take advantage, but is there ANY way you could bring over some cough medicine? I ran out a couple days ago. No worries if not - I can figure it out.

C’s heart sank. So they were alone. Sure, they didn’t say it - but any good friend or significant other worth their salt wouldn’t leave someone they loved without medicine for days.

I’ll bring some to you! Want to meet somewhere neutral, or just want me to drop it off?

In moments, C sends a response and an address.

Dropping off is fine. You are an actual lifesaver.

A settles B into bed with blankets, a cup of water, hot tea, and six types of medicine on the side table. “Now if you get worse, call me and I’ll turn around immediately. Nothing’s more important than you, okay?”

B shook their head. “I’ll be fine. They need someone.”

A heaves a sigh. “You’re too good, you.” They give B a quick forehead kiss, and head out into the night.

By the time they get to C’s apartment, their stomach is flip-flopping - C is a stranger. A lonely stranger, but a random stranger nonetheless. They come to C’s door and knock tentatively, gripping the paper bag of cough medicine (plus some cough drops and Tylenol for good measure), and hold their breath.

Nothing. A few minutes go by and A knocks again. They’re ready to break down the door if C doesn’t answer soon, but they realize what took so long right after they hear the click of the deadbolt.

A had seen corpses that looked more alive than C did right now. They lean heavily on the doorframe, sweat beaded on their forehead, a thick grey throw blanket clutched tightly around their shoulders. Their face is hollow and devoid of color, lips dry and cracked, their hair mussed and matted to their head. The cool night air hits their fevered body, triggering a round of chills that make them shudder. Despite their misery, a tiny light of gratitude flits across their eyes, and they stare incredulously at the paper bag in A’s hands.

“C….” A’s jaw drops to the ground.

“A, I seriously owe you one.” C tries to laugh, but it turns into a wheezing chest cough, high pitched and tense as they fight to catch their breath. Their eyes blink slowly, and they start to slide down the doorframe, but A grabs them and they both tumble inside.

Even through the blanket, A can feel C’s every bone. C weakly clings to A as they stumble toward the couch, and A deposits them on the cushions before tearing into the package of meds.

“What have you taken so far today?” A asks, trying to figure out the dosages.

“I….nothing…” C mumbles. A meets their eyes in disbelief before cracking open the blister packet and retrieving a proper dose. Grabbing an empty glass on the side table, they fill it before helping C choke the pills down. C greedily gulps the whole glass, breathing heavily once they’ve drained it.

“Water…water’s good.” C smiles blearily - they’re almost completely out of it. A presses a hand to the side of C’s neck, and C flinches at the cool touch. Their neck feels like a bank of hot coals, slick with sweat, lymph nodes sore and swollen. Their forehead isn’t much cooler either.

“C, when’s the last time you ate or drank anything?”

C cocks their head like A just asked them to recite the entire periodic table. “I….not sure? Days….kinda blurry.”

A’s seen enough. “C, you’ve got to go to the hospital. I haven’t even seen your temp, but you’re burning up even worse than B was.”

C frantically grasps at A’s wrists, sharp panic flooding their eyes. “Please…no…no hospital. I can’t. The meds….I’m fine here. Please.” A shiver wracks their body, and they hunch their shoulders, wrapping themselves back up and pulling the blanket over their nose. “Please. You can go now.”

“C, you need help-“

“I don’t.” Their voice breaks on the last word, cut off by a brief hiccuping sob.

Confusion rises through A - one minute C’s a grateful wreck, and the next moment they’re demanding they leave?

“C, I don’t understand-“

“You don’t get it. You think it feels all nice, having people care about you. Making you feel like you matter. And then they leave you. Get tired of you. Decide you’re not worth it. And it hurts worse than if they were never there at all.” C scrubs their eye with the corner of their blanket and sniffles as tears run down their cheeks. “I can’t let it happen again. I have to be alone. So just go. Please.”

A’s speechless. They kneel down next to the couch, hand tentatively hovering above C.

“C, is it okay if I put my hand on you right now?” C’s still sniffling, but they nod and mumble a weak “yes”, and A gently lets their hand rest on this stranger’s shoulder.

“C, I want to respect what you want right now. But you should know that you’re very sick. And you’ve managed in your own way - how, I have no idea - but you need some help right now. Now I can either call the hospital and let them handle it, or take you home with me. It’s up to you. Otherwise, you need to look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you want to be left alone through this.”

They squeeze C’s shoulder, and it triggers a deep gasping sob from their broken, aching body, sending a fault line straight through A’s heart. The sob turns to weeping, and A can barely make out the words C whimpers: "I don't want to hurt anymore."

God, who broke this poor thing? A bites their lip. C’s losing it. They’re running out of options short of forcing C to come with them, and that’s the last thing they want to do to a delirious, love-starved person who’s known them all of 6 minutes.

“C, I’m not gonna hurt you. I want to help you. Heck, even B wants to help you. I had to practically pin them down to the bed before leaving, they were so hell bent on this rescue.”

C’s red, swollen eyes meet A’s. “You mean….they asked after me?”

“Yes. They did. They could hardly stop talking about you once they came to their senses.” A rubs C’s knee through the blankets. “And they’d never forgive me if I left you here alone - they were very adamant about that. So if you want to save me a lot of arguing with and consoling of a very sad B, you’d actually be doing me a favor coming back with me.”

C seems to be weighing their options, all while struggling to stay awake on the couch. “I mean…if it saves you the trouble….”

A’s the one nodding vigorously now. “Please. It would.” Please. Just come back with me. I can’t leave you here like this. But I don’t know what else to do.

C presses themselves up off the couch with a single shaking arm. “Well, if it’d help you, then I accept.” And then they promptly pass out into A’s waiting arms.

It’s late when A gets back home with a limp C, and B is knocked out in their room, light still on - they’d tried to wait up, but their body still craved rest.

A carries C over the threshold and into the house. They gently lay the bundle on the bed and feel their forehead - still too hot, but the medicine seemed to be working. They manage to wake C up enough to take a few sips of broth from a mug before they pass out again.

For the briefest moment, A lets their hand touch C's shoulder again, making a silent promise they barely know how to keep: I don't know who broke you, but I'm not gonna let you hurt any more. I won't allow it.

A wave of exhaustion floods their body as they feel the effects of several late nights and long days of caretaking. They'd be no good to anyone if they didn't get any rest. A drapes an extra blanket over C’s sleeping form and heads for the couch for the night - they’d check back in an hour or so.

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

B’s awakened by the sound of sniffling. And it’s not theirs. They blink tentatively in the lamplight, sleep clouding their thoughts. Snatching a blanket from the top of their bed, they wrap up, stuffed animal under one arm, and shuffle across the hall to see where the sound is coming from.

It’s C, swathed in two blankets, holding a wad of tissues and trembling like a leaf. B flicks on the bedside table lamp, and C winces at the light. B can see the tear stains on their cheeks.

“Cold,” C whimpers, coughing weakly. Pity floods B - it’s like looking at a picture of themselves just a few days ago. They reach out and put their hand on C’s head, and C leans into the touch.

“Yeah, this part sucks,” B says softly, guilt flooding their core. Sure, they didn’t mean to make C sick. But they did. And they felt a certain responsibility to make sure they made it through okay - just like C had cared for them on the plane.

“Can I get you anything? Another blanket, tea, medicine?”

“Throat hurts…water…please?” B nods and places the stuffed animal next to C before beginning the long, slow shuffle to the kitchen. A’s asleep on the couch, and they can’t bear to wake them up for something this small. But by the time they get to the kitchen, their legs are trembling with exertion. Easy there. You’re still sick, too.

They brace themselves against the sink as the glass fills, and will themselves to make the final journey back to C. By the time they’ve returned, the glass feels like a lead weight in their hand, and their entire body is chilled and shivery all over. They do their best to help C take a few sips, holding the glass with trembling hands, bracing themselves on the bed so they don’t tip over.

“Thank….thank you,” C’s grateful eyes meet theirs, and in a split second B knows the effort was worth it. But the validation is replaced with a bout of lightheadedness that nearly topples them onto C.

“Sorry,” B gasps. “Still not up to marathons yet. Just...need a minute.” They tug their blanket tighter, closing their eyes. “And this body forgot how to stay warm when I do stuff.” C’s eyes flood with concern - even in their fevered haze, they can see B struggling.

"Want to sit for a minute?" C asks softly, patting the open spot next to them on the bed. “I’m still cold, too.”

B wriggles into the spot, propping themselves up on pillows and pulling blankets over them both. "Just a minute - you need your sleep."

C's already dozing. "S'okay. I'll sleep just fine. 'Sides, you're warm." C's nestled themselves into B's side, head resting on their chest, and B wraps an arm around C's shoulder and holds them close. They’re warm, too. Just a minute....

Many minutes later, A pokes their head in to check in on C - and finds two sick peas in a pod curled up together, C's head still on B's chest, B's arm curled protectively around C, stuffed animal squished between them, both tangled in blankets and Kleenexes.

In spite of their own exhaustion, A smiles. After everything that had happened, they had a feeling C wouldn't ever be alone again.

[struggling-with-time]

Stressful streaming [Corpse  x reader]

Paring: Corpse husband x Female!reader

Summary: “What if y/n isnt a good gamer (they do something else on yt and never really got into it) so they just really suck at being the imposter? And everyone is trying to make them feel better but they feel super crappy about ruining the game for everyone- especially when they get paired up with corpse?” Requested by anon

“can I request something where y/n and corpse are dating, she is the group's baby and everytime she kills everyone's like 'yeah, that's cute bUT YOUR BOYFRIEND THO'.” Requested by anon

Warnings: Idk, this took a complete 180 midway through, and even idk what’s going on anymore. Fluff?  Comfort? Cuddles???

Words: 2k

A/N: Open for requests. And a two for one, you know me at this point.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The two of you had been living together for quite a while now. And you had been public about your relationship for a long time, had it been up to either of you, nobody still wouldn’t know. But it’s definitely better on both of your nerves not having to tiptoe around each other when you recorded, or he streamed.

You really enjoy books, so that’s what you naturally made the topic of your YouTube channel, book reviews. You had always recorded yourself reading and made it into a time-lapse after, it was when easier now that you didn’t have to worry if Corpse said anything and you looked up to answer him. You weren’t really into gaming so it surprised you a lot when Corpse had sat you down yesterday and asked if you wanted join them in the game today. The other had been bugging him to get you on call for longer than just saying a quick hi and then leaving him again. You weren’t much of a people person, honestly neither of you were. But Corpse was still better at interacting with others. Both of your setups was already in the studio, due to you liking edit your videos when he streamed, so you could still be together. Despite you mostly reading whenever he streamed, because then there wasn’t a chance he accidentally got caught on your camera.

Your routines worked for each other, but this was new territory for you. Both being live and gaming. You were nervous. To put it out there you were straight up shaking of nerves. Sure you wouldn’t be live yourself, and it was just among us, you had seem him play it a million times, but it still scared you what if you said something stupid, or did something stupid. Then you wouldn’t be able to cut it out, everyone would know in an instant.

Corpse greet his stream, as you load up your game, you’re fiddling with the hem of his sweater, makes him feel like he’s closer than the short distance that’s between you, because right now he seemed like an ocean away.

He shows you how to join the call and you accidentally squeak in chock as someone yells into their microphone. You can feel Corpse moving beside you, as he tries his best not to laugh at you.

“Shut up.” You mumble, and lightly shoves his shoulder.

“Me?” A guy with an irish accent asks.

“No! Not you, I’m so sorry that wasn’t to you- Corpse stop laughing at me!” You cut your own sentence off. As he now is completely failing at keeping himself from laughing, inviting everyone and their mom to listen to his beautiful laugh. You sulk for a bit, before he composes himself.

“But you’re just so damn cute.” He pets the top of your head, and walks back to his own setup, where chat is going rocket speed. He tries to read a couple in passing, but he turns his attention back to you when you whine.

“I’m not a child!” you pout at him and sticks out your tongue. A smile right on your lips as he copies you. You just love this man with all of your heart.

“Never said you were.” He teases back, before he starts to greet the people in the call. You realise most of your nerves have disappeared, no longer shaking, you’re getting a bit excited to do this. You listen closely when corpse says the name of each of the people in the call. You only knew the names before joining, but not what voice that belonged to whom.

When you’re finally in the game, Corpse suggests you put on the white skin and a flower. Your reply?

You lean close to the microphone and goes. “No.” And picks the yellow skin with the plant hat, declaring you’re now a citrus fruit.

“Corpse, how in the world did you catch someone like her?” you think her name was Rae asked.

“I didn’t she caught me.” He admits, happily. “Still having trouble believing she chose me.”

Earning an awe from the rest of the call. Two lovebirds.

“Simp!” someone yells in the call, you’re not really sure who, in the sea of mixed noises. Earning a laugh from you.

Crewmate flash across your screen, and you didn’t totally mean to peak, but you saw the red flash from his pc. As the game starts up and your character isn’t moving you realise you don’t know what you’re doing. Corpse realises too when his character starts to circle yours and nothing happens.

“Babe you good there?” He looks over at you, as you’re pressing each key on your keyboard testing out what happens. He chuckles at the sight. “let me help you.” He gets up, and leans over you, as he shows you how to move. His own character standing still, as he helps you around the map and shows you how to do the tasks. You happily let him guide your hands, enjoying the warmth he radiates as he stands near you.

That’s when a warning flash over the screen. Emergency meeting. You think it said. A screen with a portrait of all of your characters comes up.

“Corpse you good there, you haven’t moved all game?” Felix asks.

“Oh, sorry, I was helping Y/N with how to play.” Corpse answers over your mic.

“Hey guys, how do I make my name red like Corpses?” you innocently ask, with a gleam in your eyes as you look up at Corpse knowing damn well why his name is red. He’s the bad guy.

Corpse furrows his eyebrows at you. Glaring at you, as the rest of the call is laughing, it doesn’t take long before his astronaut is floating across the screen ejected into outer space. He leans close to you, making sure to mute your microphone first.

“You sure you want to play like this kitten?” He whispers to you, you respond by smacking his shoulder, and once again telling him to shut up.

Corpse helps you through the rest of the game. He makes sure you’re good before walking back to his own chair and greets his chat, finally paying attention back to them. Another game starts and the two of you  are imposters together. Corpse quickly goes over the rules of impostors, and it doesn’t take long before you have made your first kill, not noticing Sean was in Nav together with Rae.  But before he’s able to report it,Corpse comes to your rescue by venting into the room and killing Sean. The relief is short lived as  Felix comes running into Nav and see the two of you standing over Seans body, quickly reporting.

“Y/N you’re doing good, but you need to press the report button when it comes visible.” Felix starts out. “Also, it’s Corpse, there was a body in Nav, Sean. Wait Rae and Mark is dead too.” You smile to yourself as you realise he didn’t discover Raes body in there too, you feel a bit of pride.

Corpse looks over to you grinning at him. “We walked in together I was showing her where the report button is and how to use it.” Corpse defends himself. “She never found a body in the last game.”

“That’s true.” You choose to ignore he fact you’re lying to these strangers, and tell yourself that you’re technically speaking the truth. You never found a body in the last game.

“I’m sus of you Corpse, but we have no other evidence.” Felix says,

“And we shouldn’t vote on 7.” Toast comments. Everyone votes skip, and the two of you live to see another round.

The next kill is by Corpse, and you immediately report it, stating you found it in… what was that room now called?

“We found it in… that room?” You try and look over at Corpse for help.

“Electrical, headed there for wires.” Corpse quickly takes over to cover for you. Knowing full well the rest very much knows it’s the two of you.

“I think it’s a self-report, Y/N you’re trying out some big brain strats, but I saw you vent from med bay.” Toast tells the rest. You curse underneath your breath; you are starting to catch on the rest are trying to be nice. But you get it, you’re ruining the game for them, especially Corpse. A few seconds passes as everyone votes and your astronaut is sent into the vacuum of space. You sigh.  You watch as Corpse, gets one kill before it gets reported.

“What was everyone’s last task?” Grease asks the group. He gets an array of answers, but all to him seems nowhere near the body.

“I’m still sus of you Corpse.” Felix says, “You either failed card swipe twice, or forgot you already faked it.”

“How could it have been me? I was with you the entire time.” Corpse responds.

“That’s not true, when lights went out I couldn’t find you, and we just split up before I found the body now.” Felix tells the other incriminating Corpse. It doesn’t take long before he gets voted off. He looks a bit annoyed at the outcome. Knowing it was a risky kill. But instead in your mind you take it as he’s annoyed you were his partner. You reach out for his hand, and he takes it, you stroke it a few times and he seems to calm down again.

“It’s been fun you guys, but I’m not really good at this, I think I’m going to get back to do some reading. It was fun though.” You announce to the rest, Corpse watching in confusion over the sudden need to leave. The others bid their goodbyes. You get off the discord call. And closes up the game and shuts off your pc.

“Hey chat, I’ll be right back, I’m taking a quick break before we continue.” Corpse mutes his setup and walks over to you. While doing that you’ve frustratedly put your head in your hands, and is onboard the blame train for ruining the game for the others. Corpse wraps his arms around you and brings you right back to reality and where you belong, in his embrace.

“Babe, are you okay? Do you need me to stop the stream?” He carefully asks.

“I’m sorry I ruined your game. I really tried my best, I promise.” You sigh, looking at him, and leaning into his hug and the warmth.

“You didn’t ruin anything, Y/N. You made it better, I had a fun time with you, even if we weren’t the best pair.” Corpse starts peppering you in kisses alround your face until you start giggling.

“There is my beautiful Y/N.” He smiles at you, he knows he’s so whipped, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world when he sees that smile of yours.

“Thank you.” You mumble as you put your neck into his neck, cuddling up against him. “Can I stay for the rest of your stream?” He doesn’t need to answer, he just sits back down in his own chair, and you automatically and easily, swing a leg over him. You cuddle into his chest and listens as he starts talking to his chat again.

“Y/N says thanks for everything, but this is really out of her comfort zone, and I’m proud of her for having done it.” He praises you to the rest of the world. He looks down at you smiling. He mute his mic as he whisper to you. “You’re still my favourite impostor, kitten.” You giggle, and he turns his attention back to the game. Getting ready to be a crewmate.

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 23 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

hello my loves! Some of you may have already seen this, but I have news! This fic is officially complete. There are thirty chapters, so you still have seven left after today’s update. I’ll be keeping the usual Tuesday/Saturday posting schedule, so you have a month left of updates.

Now that I am done drafting this fic, my requests will be open while I begin to bank up new chapters of the Hotch x Reader Scandal!AU that I plan to write next. Please send in requests here. I would also LOVE if you could fill out this survey about the Scandal!AU so I can get a sense of what you all would like. I will make sure to write it in a way that makes sense, even if you haven’t seen Scandal! 

As always, thanks so much for reading, y’all are just the best. 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: canon-typical descriptions of violence, cursing, hospital mention

wordcount: 2.3k 

A little while later, Hotch sends JJ and Emily to the school to interview the classmates of the students who had been murdered, and you and Morgan head off to the medical examiner’s office. 

“Find anything interesting in the calls from the tip line?” Morgan asks you as he pulls out of the parking lot, and you shrug. 

“I need to go back through my notes. There were a couple kids' names that came up, but I want to go back and cross check for the names that came up more than once-- i figure if the name only comes up once, it’s kids pranking each other and I don’t want to waste our time on dead ends. Garcia’s looking into a teacher for me, though.” 

“We just need a couple more puzzle pieces, and then it’ll all come together,” Derek says, more to himself than to you, and you murmur out your agreement as he pulls into the examiner’s office.

“Cause of death for Mrs. Mack and Mrs. Sutton was a gunshot wound to the neck. The daughters, to the abdomen,” the doctor says, passing over her report. “The men were all strangled. The boys by hand, the men with a garrote.”

“Any idea what order they were killed in?” You asked. 

“My guess is the women first, one right after the other. Then the sons, and the husbands.” 

“How did he stop the husbands from taking him down while he killed the sons?” Morgan asks skeptically. 

The medical examiner points out a bruise on Mr. Sutton’s skull. “Looks like he was knocked unconscious, maybe by the butt of the gun or something in the home.” She explains.

“Thank you,” you said to the medical examiner, who smiled and left you both to your work.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Morgan asks you.

“White man in his twenties or thirties, snubbed by a woman he desired for another man, taking out the families he’s convinced he’ll never have?” 

“Call Hotch,” he said, taking off at a brisk pace back towards the car and trusting you to follow. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and discovered that Garcia was already calling you. 

“Hi Garcia, can you patch Hotch in?” You asked. 

“Already here bug, and trust me, you’re gonna want to hear this.” She told you, and you put the phone on speaker so Morgan could listen in while he drove. 

“What did you find, Garcia?” Hotch asked. 

“So, I looked into Marc Vexper, and it turns out this long-term English sub has something to hide-- he didn’t make a single card purchase on either day that he was out, and his phone was completely off from the moment he stepped off the school’s campus to the time he returned.” 

“Morgan and I are just leaving the medical examiner’s office now-- Marc fits the profile to a tee.” You interject. 

“Oh but wait, the high school of horrors doesn’t end there,” Garcia warns you. “I took a peek at Marc’s texts looking for clues about his whereabouts, and I noticed some too-friendly chats with Victoria Sullivan, a student in his AP Literature class. Her phone was on both days, and I’ll give you one guess as to where she was both days-- and it wasn’t school.” 

“You’re kidding,” Morgan sighs out. 

“So did he groom Victoria into doing it herself, or was she an accomplice?” Hotch asked. 

“The men were strangled, Aaron. There’s no way she could have done that herself.” You tell him. 

“We need an address, Penelope.” Hotch demands. 

“Already on your phone. The station’s closest.” She tells you. 

“We’ll meet you there.” Hotch says, and the line clicks. 

In a routine you’ve performed too many times to count, Morgan flicks on the lights and sirens as you mount your phone with the GPS sending you in the right direction. It’s all the same as it usually is, so why are you so nervous? 

**********************

Hotch elects not to put on his lights and sirens as he approaches Mr. Vexper’s house, not wanting to alert him that anyone had found him out. There are two cars in the driveway-- a modest sedan with a few dings in it, and a shitbox of an old jeep with a parking permit for the local high school on the back bumper. 

“The girl is here-- she might be a hostage.” Hotch tells Spencer, who nods. “We need to be careful. There’s no need for any other kids to lose their lives,” he says, quietly opening up his car door and gesturing for Spencer to take a back entrance while he takes the front. He climbs the worn wooden steps and peeks into the window, seeing nothing before he takes one hand off of his gun to swing open the front door of the home, where he’s met face to face with the Victoria Sullivan, standing on the main stairway of the home, gun leveled square at the middle of his forehead. 

“Victoria, put the gun down,” Hotch says slowly, raising his own hands as a sign of good faith. “I’m here to help you. Where’s Marc?”

Before Victoria can answer, Hotch hears the woosh of metal in the air and feels an overwhelming crack in his legs, falling to the ground as he yelps in pain. 

“Run, Vicky! You know where to go!” Marc yells, and the girl disappears from Hotch’s blurring line of vision as March continues to beat on Hotch with a crowbar, stomping on his legs. 

Hotch vaguely hears Spencer's running footsteps, and Marc takes off, running in the same direction as Victoria. 

Spencer falls to the ground next to Hotch, attempting to gently tend to his injuries, but Hotch weakly waves him off. 

“Go, go, save the girl, he’ll kill her next. I’m okay. Go,” he coughs out, and after a moment’s hesitation, Spencer goes. 

Hotch groans as he gropes around in his pants pocket, pulling out his cell phone and calling Garcia. 

“I need help,” he says once the line clicks.

****************

If Aaron lived through this, you were going to kill him yourself. You knew you were being irrational, you knew it wasn’t his fault, and worst of all you know that he hadn’t even done something you could be mad at him for, like going in without backup. This was just the job. This just happened sometimes. And you were absolutely fucking livid that it was happening to him. Not to mention scared shitless. 

Morgan had pumped the gas as soon as Garcia called, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Your leg bounced anxiously in the passenger seat. 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Morgan attempted to placate you, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“You don’t know that,” you spat out. 

“He’s tough. He’s got a lot to stick around for. He’s gonna be okay,” He tells you, and this time you don’t argue.

When you finally pull up to the house, Aaron is on a stretcher being loaded onto an ambulance. You throw yourself out of the SUV before it’s even fully stopped, calling out for Aaron. 

“I’m okay,” he sputters out as you climb into the back of the ambulance. 

“No you aren’t, you asshole,” you scoffed at him, your voice a little watery. “Tell the paramedics what happened so they can help you,” you said, stroking at the hair at the top of his head as your chin quivered. 

“Don’t cry,” he says, reaching up for you and you see that his hands are bloody. 

“Shh, shhh. Don’t worry about me. Let them help you,” you calmed him down, trying not to let your tears interrupt the medics when his eyes roll into the back of his head and he loses consciousness.

 Aaron will live, and you suppose you won’t follow through on your threats to kill him. Once he’s in the hospital, they wheel him back to a restricted area, leaving you alone in a waiting room while the rest of the team finds the unsub. You call Jess, let her know what’s going on, but ask that she keep it from Jack until you’re back in the room with him and Hotch is able to talk to Jack himself. You didn’t want Jack to worry, and you knew that Aaron’s assurance that he was fine was the only comfort Jack would accept.

After a while-- it could have been thirty minutes or three hours, Emily appears in the waiting room..

“I was appointed to come check on you,” she says by way of greeting. “Have you seen him yet?”

“Not since they took him out of the ambulance. He looked… bad,” you struggle to find a word that explains the magnitude of it. 

“He’s gonna be fine. No gunshot wounds, just some nasty bruises. I’m sure it looked worse than it actually was.” She consoles you gently.

“I hope you’re right.”

At that moment, a doctor appears in the doorway. “For Agent Hotchner?” He asks, and you walk over to him. 

“I’m Aaron’s partner,” you explain, the word “girlfriend” feeling entirely too childish for the scenario. 

“Agent Hotchner is going to be just fine. His left leg is fractured slightly at the femur and the kneecap, but we’ve put him in a brace to stabilize the knee, and he should recover over the next eight to twelve weeks. He’ll need some physical therapy, and field work is out of the question until he is cleared, but he’ll make a full recovery.  He has a mild concussion and a few bruised ribs, but we’ve given him some meds for the pain and the concussion shouldn’t present any further complications.” 

No field work. Aaron was going to be pissed. “Thank you, doctor.” You said gratefully. 

“He’s been asking for you, if you’d like to follow me,” The doctor responds, and you allow him to lead you down a maze of hallways, leaving you just outside Aaron’s room, where his eyes are shut and his chest rises and falls slowly. Figures, you were sure he’d been up all night running through profiles in his head.

You sat on his right side, away from his injured leg, and rested your head against his mattress, near his hip bone. He looked so fragile like this, wrapped up in a thin blanket and a johnny, bandaged from his collar bone to his toes. You wondered, briefly, if he felt this helpless and frustrated the night that he picked you up from your old apartment. The tears well up against your will, but you allow them to fall, for a few moments. You had earned the right to care for him, to worry about him, to fret. You had earned the right to sit vigil at his hospital bed and try to force images of a lifetime lived without him to stop passing through your head. 

Aaron stirred, and you sucked in a quick breath, not wanting to wake him. He settled, again, and you rested your head back against the mattress, letting the gentle rhythm of his breath lull you to sleep. 

He twitches a little while later, and the sudden movement jolts you awake. His return to the waking world is slower, and you let him come at it at his own pace, not wanting to overwhelm him when he was probably already going to be in pain and disoriented. You hear him mumble out your name and you stand, placing one hand on his cheek and the other in his uninjured palm. 

“I’m right here, baby,” you whispered to him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to look you up and down without moving his neck. 

“Am I--” you chided gently. “Honey, I’m fine. Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” 

“My leg,” he tells you, trying to sit up, but you push back on his shoulders. 

“Absolutely not,” you tell him. “You broke your leg. You are staying in this bed until a doctor tells you otherwise.” 

“Fuck,” Aaron muttered out. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “Is Spencer okay? And the girl, Victoria Sullivan?” 

“The team took them both alive. Spencer is fine, just a little breathless from his run.” You tell him. 

“When is it gonna heal?” He switches topics back to his injury. 

“You mean, when are you going to be allowed into the field again?” You asked skeptically, and he at least has the good grace to look sheepish. “Not for at least six weeks, more than likely closer to ten, plus physical therapy.” 

“God damnit,” Aaron sighs. 

“It could have been a lot worse, Aaron,” you point out softly, and he looks up at you. 

“You’ve been crying.” He says softly. 

“No, I haven’t.” 

“Don’t lie to a profiler,” He chides you gently.

“Well, I’m the woman who loves you and I’ve earned the right to cry when you’re hurt.” You said defensively, but not unkindly.

“Hey, I’m okay. Really, I swear. Come up here,” he urges you, and you roll your watery eyes. 

“I’ll hurt you,” you tell him. 

“You’ll hurt me worse if you don’t come cuddle,” he pouts. 

“Corny bastard,” you chuckle, tenderly sliding into bed next to him. 

Unable to shift and cuddle, Aaron settles for reaching out for your hand, which you allow him to take in his own. He strokes his thumb over the back of your palm tenderly. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispers, and you might start crying again right there.

“Don’t do it again. I was ready to kill you myself,” you warned him. 

“Noted.” 

“We should call Jack. I didn’t tell him what was going on, I didn’t want to scare him. Jess knows.” 

“I just… want to hold your hand for a couple more minutes.” 

“Okay, love. A few more minutes.”

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

[shierak-inavva]

food for thought

pairing: peter parker x f!reader

warnings: tw for food, illness, brief discussion of death / death mention

summary: reader catches a very unfortunate cold at an inopportune time--peter takes the day to come play nurse.

notes: a shorter installment--i’m sick right now myself 🤧 might have another one up soon, possibly tomorrow if i can get it finished! fingers crossed, haha

taglist: @goyimphobic​ [just ask to be added!]

moth & spider masterlist

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

It was the week of Christmas, and [Y/N] was sick.

The morning after her run-in with Spider-Man and her amazing date with Peter, she’d woken up sniffly—and the next two days she’d toughed it out with some over-the-counter cold meds, but by that Saturday, there was no more denying it: she was definitely sick. Fever-ridden and a little hazy from how congested her sinuses were, [Y/N] couldn’t help but think, if briefly, that this was somehow her neighbor’s fault. ‘You’ll mind being sick later’—but she knew that was nonsense. Dr. S had a strange name, but he was just a guy who lived a few blocks over on Bleecker Street, not a psychic, after all.

Peter had that Saturday free, as it happened, and had been planning on spending it with [Y/N]; they’d agreed they would forego Christmas presents (since she didn’t really celebrate and Peter was looking to get himself a new motorbike) but he was determined to figure out something small to do for her all the same. They were officially a couple now—[Y/N] was his girlfriend, and that on its own made him want to do something special for her, holidays aside. But when he called her that morning, she sounded awful.

“‘Morning, P…”

“Whoa, I didn’t wake you up did I? It’s almost 10—“

“Wake me—no,“ there was a sniffle on the other end, “no, I think I’ve got a cold.“ A little shivery cough, and then, “...I’m basically absolutely sure I have a cold.”

“Oh god—you sound awful—n-no offense—do you need anything? Can I bring you anything? Are you okay?”

“No, I-I’m good, I’m just trying to sleep it off, really…I might see if one of my neighbors can run to the grocery for me later. Sorry Peter, I really wanted to see you today…”

He hadn’t felt this put-out over anything in weeks. But then something hit him, and he paused, before calling up Aunt May.

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

[Y/N] was in bed; she’d been drifting in and out of napping, a box of tissues and her little trash bin next to her bed along with a few bottles of water and her laptop, which had finally given her too much of a headache to even look at anymore and now sat closed on her nightstand. She’d been considering going and adjusting the heat, going and digging through her pantry, going and even trying to watch TV or sleep on the sofa or something, but so far nothing had gotten her up. Her head was still foggy and a little achy, and she felt sluggish and sniffly, but at least she thought maybe her fever had gone down. Her phone pinged, muffled from where it had slipped down into her thick black comforter, and after an aggravated moment of digging through her bedding, she pulled it out and took a minute to blow her nose for the thousandth time while reading the message.

peter📷 : What’s your address? Aunt May insisted on sending you some of her chicken noodle soup. It’s home-made, and I can swear it’ll fix your cold up.

She smiled at the phone, sighing a little. He was so sweet—she probably wasn’t contagious at this point, and she did want to see him…

me: well, if aunt may went to all that trouble then i can’t say no

She glanced around at the mess on her floor from the tissues that had missed the little black trash can and the empty water bottles, and finally heaved herself up out of her nest of bedding to tidy up a little.

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

Peter’s eyes widened a little at the text showing her address, even standing on the corner of her street now. Aunt May had been surprised he didn’t know where she lived, but then more surprised still when they looked to see where it was. “My goodness, she lives in the Village?” And he wasn’t completely sure what to make of the way she’d said it, but facing the stoop that was supposed to be hers, he was starting to form an idea. She lived in a townhouse—not just an apartment, a whole townhouse, and not just a townhouse, a brownstone. It looked a little—a lot—aged, but the windows on the front were clean and the plants had been trimmed back for the winter, and the stoop was clean, the black metal fencing not rusted at all. For a moment, he wondered suddenly if she lived with someone she hadn’t told him about, and god he hoped he looked presentable enough as he climbed the stoop to ring her doorbell. It took a moment, long enough for him to panic a little that maybe he’d gotten the wrong place, but then sure enough, the door opened and there was [Y/N], cheeks rosy, nose red, fluffy black bath robe tucked close around her, old black slippers on her feet, hair a little mussed but tied back, and most notably her makeup was off and her eyes were a bit red—but overall, somehow, he couldn’t help but think she looked adorable as she saw that it was him, gave him a little smile, and shuffled in a little to let him inside, wiping at her face some with a tissue in her hand. “Hi,” she got out, tissue at her nose, “Come on, you’ll get sick standing out here too.” And just like that, her large, old door was shut behind him, and he was inside her brownstone with her.

Immediately, he felt mildly chilly—it was the feeling of emptiness, rather than the literal temperature of the air. Her foyer was narrow and a little claustrophobic, but she showed him where he could hang his coat, and then led him out and into the apartment proper. The place looked like her; dark wallpaper on the walls—actual wallpaper! It was a dark, deep purple and patterned with a sort of floral pattern. The floors were a varnished almost black wood, but she had rugs, older, somewhat eclectic rugs here and there, running the little corridor connecting the foyer with the front sitting room and then into the open, atrium of a room that had, he could see from there, the staircase. The front room was clean, but didn’t look terribly lived-in: a library, dark walls lined with shelves of old books and little knicknacks, some large rocks and crystals, a few animal skulls, pressed flowers in frames…the furniture was very vintage, obviously antique, but upholstered in deep violet fabric and adorned with black and gray and purple cushions; a loveseat, a small armchair, and a little coffee table. The most personal part of the room was at the bay windows, there was a reading nook, and resting there was a blanket in dark green with black patterns on it, and a stack of books resting on the cushioned seat. Peter smiled, seeing it, imagining [Y/N] sitting there and reading with her blanket. “My grandmother liked to use this room to entertain,” she said from the doorway, smiling, “I redecorated, but really only the colors. A lot of the things on the shelves were hers, and my mother’s.” Peter looked over at her. “Just the colors?” “I reupholstered the furniture. I always liked the style—was a nice project for me. Did the reupholstering, fixed up the wood finish, painted the shelves and had the wallpaper updated…” His eyes went wide as she gestured around. “You did all of this yourself?” “It was…nice,” she replied, sniffling a little and smiling to herself as she looked at the room, obviously remembering, “After she died. She’d always said it was important to make a space your own when it became yours—and it took me a year or so after she died to get around to it, but I got it done.” Peter followed her down the narrow hallway, past the paintings of landscapes on the walls, and into the adjoining room; it was like an atrium, high-ceilinged and with a little chandelier hanging from the apex of the roof, the staircase wrapping up around the wall to lead upstairs. Across from the dark stairs was a wide entryway into another living area: two plush, dark sofas, another short dark coffee table, a dark, soft area rug on the floor, a television. This room was much more lived-in; quilts on the sofas, some magazines and a remote on the coffee table, a few journals and notebooks, a spare pair of slippers. There were more shelves in here, these with movies and green plants, a few more books. A few antique light fixtures and an antique lamp, some used candles here and there.
Under the stairs, though, was another entry, this one into a dining room that looked hardly touched, and then from there into a kitchen that linked the two rooms, and had a door leading outside and to the fire escape on the back of the building. The kitchen was cute, eccentric, spice racks and dark cabinets, plants, windchimes and suncatchers hanging, papers and notebooks on the kitchen island bar, dried herbs hanging over the countertop. It smelled like good food and it certainly smelled used, lived-in, and welcoming. “You cook?” He asked, watching her set the container of soup from Aunt May on the stove. She smiled. “I do; my grandmother liked to cook and I was always in the kitchen with her.” She opened the container, and smiled at the smell, closing her eyes a moment. “Ohh, this smells amazing.” She shut it again, sneezing into her tissue and looking apologetic. “You really didn’t have to come all the way over here while I’m like this…” “No!” Peter pushed off of the bar where he’d been leaning, stepping up closer to her, “No, if anything this is exactly when I should come all the way over here…” he rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly, smiling, “I didn’t realize you lived here, though,” he glanced out the kitchen windows, “You’re the one that’s been coming all the way over to Queens to see me!” [Y/N] just smiled, rubbing her nose. “I mean, I don’t mind it. I’m over there a lot for work, anyways.” Peter shifted a little closer, eyes on her rosy face. Even sick, she just looked…sweet. Lovely, in a disarming sort of way. “Well, then maybe now I can start coming over here, too.” [Y/N]’s smile widened a little, dimpling her cheeks. “I wouldn’t mind that, Parker,” she admitted, her voice soft and affectionate, and when he leaned in to kiss her it would have been perfectly charming and delightful if she hadn’t immediately sneezed and jerked back, just barely managing to cover her nose. Peter just laughed as she groaned and blew her nose, throwing her tissue away and shaking her head. He grinned, watching her shuffle to the trash can and back. “We can…we can try that again, y’know.” She sighed a very dramatic sort of sigh. “Maybe when it’s not such a hazard…” But Peter ducked down and kissed her cheek anyways. “I don’t know, it’s not so bad.”

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

They shared Aunt May’s soup up in her bedroom. Peter was still a little in awe at how big the townhouse was, and that she lived alone, but her room was massive—like a studio apartment in itself. Black decor, moths and butterflies pinned in cases, plants  and charms hanging around her room. Tapestries of the moon and its phases, of strange charts and symbols on her walls. Shelves with more crystals and odds and ends, candles, little statues he didn’t recognize. A desk and chair, and a high ceiling with a skylight opposite the side of the room her bed was on. They sat, she on her bed and he on the chair from her desk set next to her, and she chatted a little about the house as he tried (despite her repeatedly telling him it was fine) to fuss over her, made sure she had tissues handy and her water bottles were full and her pillows were all arranged comfortably. “My family owned this whole building years ago; it was a boardinghouse for a long time, but then they renovated, turned the building into apartments, and sold most of the other units,” she explained, “My parents and I lived in another unit, but my mother grew up here with my grandparents, and when my mom and dad died my grandmother took me in.” Peter paused on a spoonful of soup, watching her. “How…how old were you?” “Nine,” she replied, and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind if you ask.” He went a little pink, looking caught. “I still feel…like I don’t know how to tackle this kind of thing,” he admitted, “Even after losing my Uncle Ben.” She nodded, watching him. “It was recent?” “Yeah. Not quite ten years ago.” “Death is a strange kind of thing,” she said evenly, “It’s a natural part of time and life and the progression of everything but it still feels like it’s never the right time, like you can never really prepare for it.” He nodded. “Yeah.” “Losing my grandmother was like that, too,” she sighed, “Especially her leaving me the house and her things and all…” she shook her head, “Like I had all these things that were mine all my life but that felt like they weren’t supposed to be mine anymore…” she shrugged, “It was a weird process. Still is, in a lot of ways.” She glanced around, gesturing vaguely. “But, I grew up here. When she left me the brownstone, it was like…okay, this is mine now. I always loved living here, so…” she shrugged, “It’s my space, now.” Peter smiled at her, after a moment, feeling strangely touched to be sitting in this apartment with her. “Thanks for letting me in, then,” he said softly, and she smiled at him. “My grandmother would have liked you,” she grinned a little privately to herself, rolling her eyes fondly as she took another sip of soup. “I would never have heard the end of it if you’d showed up here with soup for me and she was still around.” Peter let out a little laugh. “That’s a relief, then.”
“But she would have given you the business about bringing someone else’s soup for me,” she laughed, “Nona was The Cook around here.” She slurped up a piece of noodle, “I’m glad you did though. This is really good.” “I’ll pass that along to my Aunt,” he nodded, grinning, “She’s really disappointed you’re sick, she’s been hounding me to get you to come do Christmas with us.” [Y/N] paused, hearing this, and Peter rambled on a little awkwardly. “I told her you don’t really do Christmas, and you know, that you’re sick, just—” “—You want me to meet her?” Peter paused. For a charged moment, he and [Y/N] just sat in the quiet, looking at each other, and then he nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, “I really do.”

[Y/N]’s [e/c] eyes lit up, and her whole expression softened. “If I feel better, I’d love to do Christmas at your Aunt’s place.” Peter’s spoon clinked a little hard against his bowl in his lap, and his face was delighted. “Really? That’s—“ he was at a temporary loss, just smiling from ear to ear. “That’s…that’s great! Aunt May’ll be so excited, she’ll probably go a little nuts cooking, and I know you don’t really celebrate but you don’t have to—“ [Y/N] leaned over and pressed her lips to his, quieting the steady flow of words and smiling against his skin. Peter went still for a second, but then melted into the kiss and leaned closer to her on the bed, reaching up and cupping her cheek. This time, she didn’t sneeze, and nobody’s phone interrupted them. This time, their lips were both warm and soft, they tasted like chicken noodle soup and [Y/N]’s skin was maybe just a little too warm, but otherwise? It was perfect.

But, like all perfect things in Peter’s life these days, this made him realize how afraid he was that it could be taken away.

[thebookreader12345]

New Doc in Town

Pairing: Jay Halstead x reader

Summary: Y/N is the newest doctor in the ED, and when Jay meets her for the first time, he feels something he hasn’t felt since Erin left

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: slight swearing, mention of a minor injury

Word Count: 1,561 Words

Note: Y/FC means your favorite color

I had only been at Chicago Med for a few weeks now. I used to work over at Lakeside Memorial, but transferred due to Med’s lack of ED docs. I was hesitant about it at first, but I’ve come to like my new workplace. Everyone was super welcoming, and after my first week, it already felt like home. I was currently standing at the nurses’ station looking down at my tablet, and that’s when a cute guy I had never seen before walked into the ED and glanced around.

“Uh, Maggie, could you let Natalie know that our patient’s scans are up?” I question.

“Sure thing, Y/N,” Maggie responded as I put my tablet away.

“Great. Thank you,” I tell her before walking over to the man, who seemed to be clutching his side. “Um, excuse me? Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah. Is Will here?” the man asked.

“You mean Dr. Halstead? He’s working today, but he’s currently on his lunch break,” I reply. “Did you need me to get him for you?”

“No,” the man spoke a little too quickly. “I’m trying to avoid him, actually. He’s my brother. I’m Jay.”

“Right. Will has mentioned you a few times. I’m Y/N,” I greet.

“Are you new here? I’ve never seen you around before,” Jay stated.

“Uh, I just started a few weeks ago. Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re in pain,” I point out.

“I hurt my ribs at work, and my boss won’t let me come back until I get checked out by a doctor. I didn’t want Will to worry, so I was hoping to stop by while he was busy,” Jay explained.

“Well, Dr. Manning and Dr. Choi are with patients at the moment, and Will is at lunch, so I guess you’re stuck with me. Come on,” I say and lead him to one of the empty trauma rooms. Before I could even ask, Jay pulled his shirt over his head and sat down on the bed. “So you’ve done this before then?”

Jay laughed. “Many, many times. If Med had a frequent flyer list, I’d be on it. I guess it’s what I get for being a cop.” A small smile played at my lips as I put on some hand sanitizer, and when I turned around, I caught sight of Jay’s abs, and let me just say that they were amazing. I tried not to stare for too long, and thankfully, Jay didn’t notice because he was too busy looking around the room.

“Did you get hit by a bus or something?” I ask jokingly as I examined the fairly large bruise on his side.

“Not exactly. I tackled a guy to the ground and hit my side pretty hard on some concrete,” Jay answered.

“Well, at least you caught the guy. Does this hurt?” I question and press gently against his side, earning a wince from Jay. “Okay. How about this?” I pressed a different spot and earned the exact same response, meaning I was on to something.

“That one hurt way worse,” Jay breathed out.

“I can tell. Do you mind?” I ask and pull my stethoscope from my coat pocket.

“Not at all,” Jay replied. I pressed the end of the stethoscope to Jay’s lungs and listened as he breathed in an out. I didn’t hear anything unusual, which meant I had my diagnosis.

“I’m not hearing any air escaping from your lungs, which means you didn’t puncture a lung, and I didn’t feel any breaks. You’ve just got a couple of bruised ribs. If they are fractured, they’ll heal over time, but it’s nothing too serious,” I inform him. “Did you want me to prescribe some pain medication?”

“I’m good, but thank you. Hey, if you don’t mind, could we keep this between us? I don’t want Will freaking out over nothing,” Jay spoke.

I smiled. “I won’t tell a soul. It was nice meeting you, Jay.”

“Yeah. It was nice meeting you too, Y/N. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” Jay said and put his shirt back on.

“Maybe you will,” I counter.

A Few Weeks Later...

My relationship with Jay had only grown since we had met in the ED. I went out to Molly’s with him and Will a lot these days, and I had also been to his apartment to watch hockey games sometimes. I felt some sort of connection with Jay, and I really hoped he felt the same way, which is why I hadn’t made a move yet. Will told me Jay had recently gotten out of a long relationship with a woman named Erin, so I didn’t want to push him, especially if he didn’t like me the way I liked him.

“Oh come on! You’re not giving him a penalty for that? That’s bullshit!” Jay shouted at the TV, where a hockey game was playing. Will, Jay, and I were all hanging out at Jay’s apartment watching the hockey game and eating pizza, and lets just say the Blackhawks were losing.

“It’s getting late. I should get going so I can get some sleep before my shift tomorrow. You staying?” Will asked me.

“I don’t have a shift tomorrow, and the game is still on. Of course I’m staying. Besides, if I don’t stay, I fear that Jay will end up throwing the remote at the TV and busting it so...” I trail off.

“All right. Bye Jay,” Will spoke and gave his brother a pat on the shoulder. “Bye Y/N.”

“Bye, Will,” Jay said and waved to his brother who then left the apartment. “Hey, you want a beer?”

“Sure,” I reply. Jay got off of the couch and walked into the kitchen, coming back seconds later with two beer bottles, one of which he handed to me. “Thanks. So, how’s work been?”

“Oh, you know, catching bad guys, getting bad dope off the street. The usual,” Jay answered. “How about you?”

“It’s been okay I guess. If you’re wondering if I’ve had any patients handsomer than you though, the answer is no,” I state. 

Jay laughed and took a sip of beer. “That was actually going to be my next question.”

“Which is why I answered it without you even asking. I know you so well,” I joke.

“Now that I think about it, we know less about each other than we believe. Lets play 20 questions,” Jay suggested.

“Okay,” I agree and turn my body so that I faced him. “You go first.”

“All right. What’s you favorite color?” Jay asked.

“Y/FC,” I commented. “Favorite food?”

“Easy. Steak,” Jay responded. “How many parties did you go to when you were in college and med school?”

I laughed and took a sip of beer. “Too many. Why’d you become a cop?”

Jay hesitated. “I uh, I guess it was because I still wanted to feel like I was helping out the country, you know? Serving in the Rangers was amazing and all, but I didn’t want that to be what defined my life. So, I signed up for the police academy so that I could do a little good for this city. It’s a boring answer, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s boring. It’s actually pretty cool. My answer to why I became a doctor is the boring one. Someone in my family got sick, and there was nothing I could do to help them, so I figured I’d become a doctor so that I could help other people get better,” I tell Jay. “Now, I think it’s your turn to ask a question.”

“Right. Oh. Here’s a good one. Have you ever had a crush on a co-worker?” Jay questioned.

“No, but I have had a crush on a co-worker’s brother. I still do,” I reply. Right after I said that, I could feel my cheeks heat up, because I realized I was talking about Jay, and he was right in front of me. “What about you?”

“I have, obviously, because of Erin and all, but at the moment I don’t. I do, however, have a crush on one of my brother’s co-workers,” Jay disclosed.

“Anyone I know?” I ask. The chances that Jay liked me were slim, but I was really hoping that was the case here.

“I think so, yeah. She was the doctor that helped me out when I injured my ribs, and that was when we first met,” Jay informed me. 

I smiled when I registered that Jay was talking about me. “How surprised would you be if I told you that you’re the co-worker’s brother that I have a crush on?”

“Not surprised at all,” Jay murmured and leaned forward, connecting our lips. I was shocked at first, because I didn’t think Jay would kiss me, but after a few seconds, I kissed back, relishing the feeling of Jay’s lips on mine. The kiss wasn’t super long, and when we pulled away from each other, I was wanting more.

“Wow,” I breathe out. “I was not expecting that, but I’m glad it happened.”

“Me too,” Jay grinned. “Hey, how would you like to go out for a date next weekend?”

“Sounds perfect. But right now, I’d really like it if you kissed me again,” I say.

“I won’t argue with that,” Jay spoke before leaning in and kissing me again.

______________________

Tag List:

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