#now stealing an AMBULANCE

[gin-juice-tonic]

So i’ve been thinkin about how stan got his car lately

i know we know that stans car is probably a cadillac deville

but yknow

i think it would be exceedingly funny

if he somehow pilfered one of those late 1960s cadillac ambulances

and just kinda

made it look like a deville

to cover his tracks

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

.

[reiderwriter]

The One Thing You Can't Have

Pairing: Spencer Reid × Female Reader (DBF! Spencer × Hotchner! Reader)

Summary: After five years away, you move back to your hometown. Reconnecting with many of your father's friends and coworkers, you start to get suspicious when you lose multiple pairs of panties. Or; Spencer risks it all by stealing Hotch's adult daughter's underwear. And maybe her heart, too.

Warnings: Day 15 of Kinktober - panties, mentions canon character death, age difference (ten years), panties, underwear kink, underwear stealing, masturbation, sexual fantasies discussed, PinV Sex, clitoral stimulation, partial creampie, mentions of emergency contraception

A/N: It is done! I shit you not the writing time on this is longer than most of the fics I've ever written, it took me so long that I don't have any other fics prewritten for Kinktober now and have to spend the day hastily writing them... But it was worth it. As always, you can find all my work in my masterlist and all my kinktober fics here. My requests are open until the end of the month, so if there's a specific fic you want, don't hesitate to let me know!

With your family the way it was, you'd dealt with a lot over the years. Aaron Hotchner loved his wife and kids, but that hadn't been enough to protect you from George Foyet. When your mom and kid brother had gone into protective custody, you'd been away at college, and apart from a protective detail, they'd not seen fit to move you anywhere special at all. Foyet was so caught up on your mom that he'd forgotten you existed.

When you got the call from your dad that Foyet was resurfacing, you'd known in your gut that you had to go back. You'd ditched your handlers and driven through the night but when you arrived at the house you'd grown up in, all you could see was police lights and caution tape.

You'd run as fast as you could into the house, but a pair of strong arms grabbed you and lifted you away as you screamed and sobbed. Derek Morgan held you firm as he tried to calm you, but you barely registered his words.

"My mom is in there, my dad too, and Jack, let me fucking go, Derek." You'd only stopped raging when they'd bought out the first body bag. And then the second.

The anguish that filled your lungs stole your breath and you didn't know it was you screaming until your throat was red and completely sore. Another set of hands led you away and into an ambulance, skillfully anticipating your needs.

"Y/N, look at me. Look at my eyes, we're going to breathe together, okay?" Staring up into his dark eyes you suddenly remembered that you needed the air to breathe, his calm voice bringing you back to life.

He was wearing an FBI vest but you'd never seen him before. Not a surprise since you'd avoided everything to do with your father's job for the last five years. You only really knew Derek from when he'd been sent to deliver the news to you about Foyet's initial targeting of you.

The Man in front of you was young, but still older than you. He was tall, but he'd shrunk himself down into the space, leaning over you so that he was the only thing you could see. He looked tired, but he was the only thing for miles around keeping you grounded and you clung to him in desperation.

"My Name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I work with your dad. You're Y/N, right?" His voice was soft and even, like he was taming a temperamental animal. Even though you knew what he was doing, trying to calm you so he could deliver a devastating blow, you let him do it, drinking in each word as total calm swept over you. You nodded at him and waited for him to continue.

"Your brother is fine, he's at your aunt's house, he didn't touch him. Your dad is in the hospital and they think he's going to pull through, but he was stabbed a few times so he's going to be weak for a while." You searched his eyes for the words he wasn't saying as panic rose in your body.

"My mom, where is my mom? Haley Hotchner, she's… She should have been with Jack, where is she?" The look in his eyes was enough to tell you what in your heart you already knew. Your mom was in that bag and your family was broken, again.

You don't know what happened next, but you knew you were bundled up in Spencer Reid's arms and clinging to him for dear life. You knew he'd somehow got you to your aunt's house, and you knew he'd stayed until you were ready to let him go. Even years later you don't know how long he'd held you. Maybe only minutes, maybe hours. He had let you sit and grieve, finding small comfort in the contours of his body.

After that, college wasn't a priority for you. Your brother was only a baby, and he needed you around, so even the three-hour drive upstate seemed too far to be away from him. You stuck around, taking your courses as remotely as they'd let you for the semester and struggling for it.

Your dad felt guilty, of course. For your mom, for the derailing of your life, and for the way he had to keep leaving because that was the job. In all honesty, you didn't mind being home more at that time.

There was Jack, who was great, and your Aunt was so much like your mom that sometimes it was like she was still with you, even a little bit. And there was Spencer, too.

After it had become evident that you were going to fail the only required course you were taking that semester (algebra was your enemy), your dad had sought out the only person he knew with a good grasp of mathematics and no weekend plans and roped them into tutoring you. Which meant that your weekends were suddenly fully booked by him.

He seemed a little different from the first time you’d met him, but that was a given considering the circumstances. He held himself a little taller, and more relaxed as he talked about the kinds of equations you were supposed to use and formulas you were supposed to memorize. He was attentive but not too close, and he’d shown up with shorter hair and now that you could see more of his face, more of his neck, you found yourself getting distracted by the oddest things. The stubborn but small stubble on his neck, the way sweat trailed down his face, the movement of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, the way the breeze from your open window tousled his hair.

It took you a distractingly long time to realize that you were physically attracted to him, but when you did realize, it was suddenly all you could think about. You spent most of your days working on math so you’d have some excuse to call or text him. The mornings before your lessons together you’d taken to hogging the bathroom long enough to shave, wash and dry your hair and apply a natural but still skilled amount of make-up. You were surprised that neither of the big bad profilers had caught onto the stench of your puppy love, because you were dripping with desperation.

He never budged of course, too oblivious or too noble to lay a hand on an eighteen-year-old. Or just smart enough to know not to lay a hand on his boss's daughter.

You certainly weren’t making it easy for him though.

“Spencer, what do you think of my outfit today? I’m going out with some friends from high school tonight for a meal, do I look okay?” You’d twirled for him innocently, knowing full well the speed of your spin would throw your already short skirt up past your panties for a split second.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about clothes, Y/N. Maybe ask your dad.” His flush was evident enough that you knew it had worked but his hands were rigid by his sides and he carefully guided you back to the topic at hand.

It turned out that after a semester of tutoring, you’d become such a whizz at mathematics that you’d passed with flying colors. You’d been so excited to tell Spencer that you drove straight to Quantico, using the family pass your father had given you for emergencies to gain access. Spencer didn’t know what hit him when you launched yourself into his arms and wrapped your legs around him, but he’d somehow stayed upright as you buried your face once again in his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Spencer! I got an A, the Professor was so shocked by my improvement that he asked me if I’d cheated. When I dropped your name, he freaked.” Spencer’s eyes were wide and blinking frantically as his hands struggled to find a place to hold you. You’d worn another scandalously low skirt and it seemed the only way to pry you off of him was to put a hand on or dangerously close to your ass.

You enjoyed watching his internal struggle, and so did quite the number of FBI agents, until your father spoiled the fun by walking out of his office to check the commotion.

“Y/N Hotchner, get down from there, now.” Your father rarely raised his voice at you, choosing a softer approach to parenting than many would expect. That meant that on the rare occasion that he did feel the need to speak up, you shut your mouth and listened. Detangling yourself from Spencer’s arms with an awkward smile, you tried your best to nonchalantly bounce over to your father and explain why you were there.

He motioned for you to follow him to his office, and you complied, letting one ear stay clear to focus on the sound of Reid being teased by all of his coworkers about the scene you’d just caused.

Your dad didn’t exactly scold you for the incident, so much as he tried to insinuate that you should head back home, and then head back to college, too. With months between you and the Foyet incident, he’d been hinting at letting you get back to your life for a while, but your stunt with Reid had him suddenly addressing it more overtly.

To say that your family dinner that night was a pain in the ass was an understatement.

“Y/N, Daddy said you went to his work today!” Jack had started the conversation, and you knew the tactical warfare was beginning.

“That’s right, buddy! I had to thank Spencer for helping me with my schoolwork.” You smiled at your brother before turning a suspicious glance toward your dad, who sat peacefully eating his dinner. The fact that you were even all eating together should’ve alerted you to something going on behind the scenes.

“Uncle Spencer is the best!” It wasn’t Jack’s fault he’d just given your father the best ammunition he could’ve asked for.

“Do you agree, Y/N? Do you think your Uncle Spencer is the best?” He was using his calm interrogation voice and you hated it.

“Dad, please, he’s not that much older than me, it’s weird for me to call him Uncle.”

“He’s ten years your senior, Y/N. You know that right?” You didn’t move as your eyes locked together with his, as he seemingly asked a more serious question in the subtext. You weren’t ready to answer it though, and so you buckled under the pressure, looking away first and eating the rest of your meal in silence.

Without saying much of a goodbye to any member of your father’s teammates, you decided that it was about time you continued with your life, not letting the actions of George Foyet hold you in a standstill any longer. You went back to college full-time, got your degree, and got a job in a city near your college town. You came back home regularly, but in the five years since your mother's death, you hadn’t talked to or heard from Spencer Reid.

Job opportunities were better in D.C. though, so after growing up and having some time away, you came right back to your childhood home, ready to start over. It was only temporary, of course, and you had a job lined up, but apartments were so hard to come by, especially ones that were actually livable, that you needed to do a lot of searching to find one that felt right.

So your dad’s home it was. With Jack a bit older and constantly away at school or clubs or friend’s houses, and your dad’s schedule the way it was, you’d practically got the house to yourself. And after living alone and with female roommates for half a decade, you’d almost grown too comfortable in your own skin. The summer between your move and the start of your new job was hot and sticky, and you found yourself taking more and more cold showers after your morning workouts.

Normally at 11 a.m., you had the house to yourself, and you’d happily stroll around in a small towel and dry yourself off. If your father or brother were home, you’d cover yourself up a bit more, sure, or just head to your room quicker, obviously.

So emerging from your shower, the last thing you expected was coming face to face with Doctor Spencer Reid sitting on your couch, the one that was directly on your path between the bathroom you’d just emerged from and the room you needed to be in. You cursed your father and his practically-sized apartment as you floundered your way through a greeting of the man you hadn’t seen in five years.

“Spencer, hi. What... What are you doing on my dad’s couch?” You clutched the towel close to your body, trying not to shiver as he trailed his eyes over your body, eyes just as big and wide as the last time you’d seen him.

“We were on our way to a local crime scene, he went to grab something from…” His voice trailed off as he pointed towards the master suite where you could now faintly hear the sound of your dad on the phone to someone.

“Right. Great. I should probably…” You gestured to the room and quickly started making your way toward it, trying not to visibly cringe at the most awkward post-shower interaction you’d ever had.

“What are you doing here?” His voice shot out quickly, and you whipped around so fast, that you almost panicked and dropped the towel completely.

“Oh, I… Did my dad not mention? I got a job at a company nearby, so I moved back. I’m staying here with Dad and Jack until I can find a decent apartment.”

“Oh, wow. Well, it’s nice to have you back. It’s been like five years since you left, right?” His tone was bright and he was nodding his head, but the words set fire to your nerve endings as you remembered that you’d practically run away from him. Even after half a decade, he was having a physical impact on you.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You have a good memory.”

“You know, I get that a lot.” His grin ignited something in your chest, and you gathered the laundry you’d left on the sofa and quickly excused yourself before you could prove yourself more of a idiot than you could already make a case for.

Spencer watched you go, wondering just when Hotchner was going to emerge from his hiding place to attack him for so openly ogling his half-naked daughter. He stood on the spot staring at your door for a moment too long before dragging his eyes away. Unluckily for him, what he found on the floor had him panicking all over again.

“Y/N, your forgot…” He grabbed the lacy material in his fingers and went to open the door before stopping, realizing that you were probably completely bare behind that door now. The thought sent him into a tailspin, and he once again stood clueless for a beat too long with a pair of your freshly laundered panties in his hands.

He considered dropping them back on the floor, but he didn’t want them to get dirty again after you’d washed them so nicely. He should’ve just left them on the sofa for you to find later, but when Hotch’s voice grew louder and clearer behind him, fear took over and he shoved them into the closest hiding space he could find. His pocket.

“Callahan found something for us at the ME’s office, she’s meeting us at the precinct, let’s go.”

And just like that he was out the door, and he had officially signed his own death warrant.

You never noticed that the first pair went missing. When it became a pattern though, you did become suspicious. Three pairs of underwear in thirty days seemed a bit much, and unless your building's laundry machines were eating them, you had no clue where they could've been.

It's not that Spencer even meant to do it any of the times he did. But when he'd returned home that first day, overwhelmed with the caseload he'd been handed and found the offending item still right there in his coat pocket, the blood had rushed straight to his head.

He'd spent a half hour in agony staring at them, trying to smooth them out so they wouldn't get crumpled, his dick twitching at every slight movement he made. It had been quite a few months since he'd had sex, never really one for casual hook-ups. But if the result of several months of celibacy was stealing underwear then he thought maybe it would be best to have sex sooner rather than later.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Popping the button of his pants, he'd taken his cock in his hand and worked his way up and down his shaft imagining you dropping that towel. He imagined you wearing the panties and nothing else as you replaced his hand with your mouth, desperate to please. Taking the panties in his hand, he began directly masturbating into them, wishing so needily that you were still inside them.

When he shot his load, he soaked them through, and the shame that overcame him was intense and swift.

You never realized that he'd somewhat avoided you after that, doing his best to stay away for fear he'd let his perversions rule his actions. You had somehow made yourself unavoidable though.

The first time he saw you again it was at one of Rossi's family get-togethers. It had been years since you'd seen some of the members of the team, so you were really looking forward to it. Plus, Rossi had boasted of a recently installed pool and jacuzzi within his invitation, and you were excited to check them out with the fine summer weather actually staying fine.

You'd brought your bikini with you and changed in one of the ground-floor bathrooms, wrapping another towel around yourself before you finally made your way to the pool. But once again, wrapped in a towel, you'd come face to face with Spencer Reid.

"Y/N, I didn't know you were coming." He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and this time worked especially hard to not let his gaze travel all over your skin. He regretted his entire existence as he realized he'd have to hide his micro-expressions around countless profilers, some of whom were present and accounted for when you'd last been seen together.

Derek was going to give him hell.

"Yeah, Uncle David invited me! I'm so excited for the jacuzzi, I haven't been in one since college."

"You call Rossi 'Uncle David?'" The thought had tickled him, humor sparkling in his eyes as he finally smiled at you.

"Why yes I do, and if you're not careful, my dad is going to make me start calling you Uncle Spencer again." You skipped off merrily after that, leaving your spare clothes and your discarded ones in the bathroom Reid had obviously been waiting for.

His smile soured as he realized the impact of your words. Uncle Spencer. Huh. Some fucking "Uncle" he was. He washed his hands thoroughly, having spilled some kind of drink down himself before greeting you, as his eyes fell to the pile of clothes you'd left neatly in the corner.

He tried to tell himself he couldn't do it again, but curiosity and arousal lit up his entire body and carried him forward. Jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and shoes were left tidily discarded, but he couldn't obviously see any underwear. There was a second pile of neat clothes and he looked at that one thoroughly as well, but after a minute it was evident that you'd hidden your unmentionables from clear sight.

He heard the happy cheers and smiles from outside, and painstakingly attempted to pull away, but he couldn't. Rooting through your things, he found them. He found two of them, really. The used underwear you'd likely just taken off, and the fresh pair you were going to change into. Spoiled for choice he sat in a stasis, mentally cursing himself for being so stupidly horny.

It would be wrong to take another pair. And certainly wrong of him to take the clean pair which you'd instantly noticed were missing when you tried to put them on to wear them.

The used pair though. He held them delicately in both hands, the slip of material not as fancy as the ones he'd used before, but somehow more enticing.

Letting his cock rule his thoughts he brought them up to his face and inhaled deeply, and it was like a bomb going off in the back of his head. He had to have them.

Organizing the bathroom into the exact layout as he'd found it, making sure not even a hair was out of place. The panties were safely in his pocket, and he took a minute to get his body physically and mentally under control before exiting the bathroom and rejoining his friends.

The next time he'd taken some, they'd really been handed to him like a gift. One month back at home, and you felt slightly stifled by the overbearing presence of your father. You needed a nice, messy night out, and you sure got it.

The friends you'd reconnected with had taken you out to a slew of clubs, and by the end of the night, you were tripping and stumbling into anything and anyone in your path. It was as if you were magnetically drawn to every object in your way, unfortunately, one just happened to be tall and lean and caught you before you could tumble off again.

"Y/N?" He looked down at you, confused as he took in your intoxicated state.

"Uncle Spencie!" You relaunched yourself into his arms, reminiscent of that day in the bullpen. "Uncle Spencie I can't believe you're here!" You giggled into his neck as you buried yourself there, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as you pulled away to grin at him again.

"Y/N, how drunk are you?"

"How you are drunk, huh? Why don't we ever ask that question?" You sent yourself into a fit of giggles as your friends watched the scene play out behind you.

"Girls, this is Doctor Spencer Reid. My daddy is his boss. Isn't he cute?" Your arms still wrapped territorially around Spencer, you introduced your friends who cackled approvingly at your drunk shenanigans.

"Y/N, you need to let me go, the others…"

"Others? Is daddy here? AARON!! AAAAROOOOOO-" He clamped a hand over your mouth and moved you to the side of the road to hail a taxi as fast as possible. Apologizing to your friends, he quickly stuffed you into the cab and gave the driver your address.

"Uncle Spencer, I just wanted to see my daddy and his other friends. Why are you being so mean?" The exaggerated pout on your face had him dragging a hand down over his face as he struggled to pull a seatbelt over you.

"If your dad had seen you wrapped around me like that, he'd have killed one of us."

"Both of us," you nodded and giggled. Your short dress was riding up your thighs, the leather seats of the car feeling unbearably hot and sticky under your skin. You shifted uncomfortably a few times, your underwear eating into your skin in an uncomfortable manner.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" He sternly whispered the words into your ears as he grabbed your wrists. It was too late though, you'd already worked your underwear down your thighs enough that they'd reached your knees and then fallen around your ankles.

"It felt bad, I didn't like it." You leaned your head back and let your legs hang open slightly, just enough that Spencer could see the taxi driver angling for a look.

He snapped a hand between your legs, closing off the view before snatching up the underwear from the floor and pocketing it. You didn't know nor care though, the motion of the car rocking you off into a deep sleep. He'd ended up having to carry you up to your apartment, getting you ready for bed, and leaving just fast enough for Hotch to not catch him hanging over his unconscious daughter.

And he had a third pair of your underwear.

He spent his days wondering just what the fuck was wrong with him, and his nights jerking off to your scent, wondering just how willing he'd be to climb into bed with you and if he'd have the strength to say no.

He was normal enough in your interactions with one another. You'd seen each other at various case celebrations, at parties hosted by the team members, which that summer were high in total. You couldn't resist the temptation to flirt with him, but it was only when the two of you were well out of earshot of anyone who might frown upon it. You didn't think he even noticed that's what you were doing anyway.

Spencer did notice. And he kept noticing and was disgusted by how much he wanted you. You were Hotch’s daughter. He’d seen pictures of you as a child, he’d held you while you cried over your mom and the stress of having to be a responsible adult after everything happened with Foyet, he’d known how much you hated having to grow up quickly when you had Hotch for a dad, and he felt gross that despite all of that he wanted to fuck you so badly that he’d resorted to petty thievery and letting you flirt with him under your father's nose.

It was towards the end of your summer at home when you finally noticed the missing pieces. You'd even almost mentioned it to your dad before thinking it through a bit more. If it wasn't some laundry mix-up, he was going to go full FBI on every man who came close to you, and that was a risk you weren't willing to take.

In the end, you were thankful you said nothing.

The BAU team had been out on a case for ten days, the largest amount of time they'd been away since you'd moved home, and you'd decided to greet them as soon as they returned, congratulate them on a job well done.

You knew they were already heading to their regular bar after they finished their paperwork, but you had some morale to boost in the meantime, so a donut delivery plus enough coffee to stay awake for hours was in order.

They'd practically thrown themselves off the jet and into the box of donuts, each of them thanking you for the happy greeting after what had to have been a hard time away.

"Y/N, you didn't have to do this, but thank you. The team really appreciates it." Your dad had looked at you with a proud look before showing you up to his office, letting you wait on his couch until everyone was finished.

You got bored quickly and asked if you could help with anything, which is how you became your dad's errand-runner. He sent you to the printer to pick up papers, you'd run to get him more coffee from the pot twice and he sent you to ask the others about their progress. Which was totally fine had they not looked like paperwork-writing zombies on the verge of collapse.

"Y/N, head down to Spencer's desk, he should have a file on the geographical profile I need." He hadn't even glanced up to ask you that, but he did shout a thank you out the door, so you suppose he could be forgiven for now.

Bouncing down the stairs you noticed Spencer was deep in the middle of reading some files, doing that speed reading thing you'd heard him talk about but never witnessed.

"Spencer." He didn't look up, too focused on the words in front of him. "Spencer, my dad needs a file."

"Go-bag. Reading, give me a minute." He still hadn't even glanced at you so you pulled yourself around his desk to search for his go-bag yourself. It was on the floor, and you pulled it towards you, settling down on the floor to open it up and look for the files you needed.

You probably should have had more reservations about rooting through Spencer's things because just as you pulled the zip fully open, it seemed like his eyes shot wide and he threw his head in your direction, finally distracted from his work.

"Wait, don't look in-" He whisper-screamed the words at you frantically, but it was too late. The first thing your hand had closed around in the bag was small and delicate and somewhat rumpled, and your hand had a mind of its own pulling it out into your lap so the two of you could see it.

Your panties. One of your missing pairs of panties was in Spencer Reid's go-bag.

Both of you sat there for a few moments, neither of you moving, the eye contact not breaking one second as you both stared at each other in fear and surprise.

He cleared his throat quietly and whispered down at you, "I can explain…" but he didn't get a chance as you swiftly grabbed the file you'd come for - helpfully pulled into plain view by your rustling about - hid your panties back in your own pocket, zipped his bag up and swiftly ran all the way back to your dad's office.

You sat on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, no longer eager to do chores. Spencer had your underwear. He'd stolen it. He'd taken it across the country with him. He'd…You didn't know what he was doing with it, really, but you knew that every image of him with them had the most dirty, exciting, disgusting thoughts running through your head.

You grabbed your things and quickly headed out after that. Penelope caught you by the elevator as you made to leave.

"No, sweetie, where are you going? I thought you were coming to celebrate with us after this, I was so looking forward to having the fun Hotchner around, not the grumpy, serious one."

"I'm just going home to freshen up. I smell like coffee and Quantico, which when you're not nose blind to it isn't the most optimal scent." You promised her you'd see her there, and with a quick glance back at the office, where Spencer was sat tense, looking like he wanted to either run after you or shout something across the room, you left.

By the time you'd arrived home, there were ten missed calls on your cell, and you didn't have to even speculate about who they might be from because there were texts too.

Spencer: I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, call me when you get this.

Spencer: I know it's weird and I'll understand if you hate me, but please talk to me.

Spencer: Please don't tell your dad.

You'd scoffed at that last one as if you'd ever have been that stupid. But you didn't reply or call him, letting him suffer in silence.

This entire time, you'd been operating on the basis that Spencer Reid didn't see you the way you saw him. That he didn't think of you as an adult but as your father's daughter. And now you were confronted with the truth that he was just as fucking lustful and horny as you'd been since you met him at 18? You weren't letting this opportunity pass you by.

Taking the panties out, you stared at them again, trying to figure out just what he'd been doing with them. You recognized them as the pair you'd lost on your night out, bright red and lacy, eye-catching, and definitely yours. He hadn't even tried to lie to you about that, but how willing would you have been to accept the fact that Spencer had stolen someone else's panties? Or been gifted them? Probably not very.

You'd assumed you'd left this pair in the taxi, not entirely sure how you'd ended up in the car in the first place or why you would decide they were uncomfortable right there. Now you had sudden recollections of Spencer also being there, and suddenly your actions made sense.

He'd not only taken your panties, he'd taken your used panties, and it looked as though he'd used them even more. You decided not to think too closely about how he had used them.

But he'd also got you home safe, making sure your things were stored neatly and tucked you into bed nice and tight. And then he'd stolen your panties.

Thinking about it was frustrating but there was nothing else in your mind at that moment. Spencer taking them out secretly to look at. Spencer smelling them. Spencer wrapping them around his big cock and stroking himself to the thought of you.

You wanted to know precisely what he'd done, and you intended to find out.

Penelope called you as soon as they'd left work, and sent you the location, too, and you decided it was time to get ready to mess with Spencer.

The dress you'd worn on the night he'd stolen your panties was freshly laundered. Usually, you wouldn't wear anything so risky in front of your father, but he'd likely only be there for an hour or two before leaving you be. You pulled out a fresh pair of red panties as well, hoping to jog Spencer's memory a little bit to entice him to talk.

With a quick make-up retouch, you climbed into your car, and within twenty minutes you were walking into O'Keefe's.

Miserably, Spencer couldn't come up with an excuse to stay home quick enough and was tumbled into the car by Derek and Penelope. He had a feeling, too, that he wouldn't be able to leave early, either, which was only confirmed when you walked in wearing that dress.

His hopes to sit and nurse his non-alcoholic cocktail peacefully at the edge of the booth are shattered as he watches you saunter over. It clings tight to your skin, twisting around every peak on your body, revealing every part that he'd spent the last few weeks dreaming about.

He was screwed.

"Hi, Dad! Hi everyone!" You smiled innocently enough, but your sickly sweet smile turned on Spencer was an omen, and he suddenly wanted to be down on his knees begging for forgiveness. Or something else.

Instead of sticking by your dad's side, you make your way to Spencer and force him to shuffle further into the booth so you can sit next to him. It's cramped and you're on the edge still, so you let your hand rest on his thigh for a beat too long as you join the conversation.

"What did I miss?"

"Just talking about the craziest things that have happened to us on cases."

"Reid was propositioned by a prostitute once," Derek chuckled.

"Please, Reid has been propositioned by multiple prostitutes, multiple times." Penelope and Derek continued to joke and giggle about the younger man's apparent cluelessness to flirting.

"I guess they just assumed you were a pervert, Spence. I wonder why they'd think that?" His eyes shot wide as you snuck your hand into his pocket under the table, watching to see if anyone else had noticed the bold actions.

But you looked away from him quickly and didn't let your hand spend too long there, sliding it out slowly, feeling up his leg as you went. He took another sip of his drink before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His cock had been rudely awoken, and he didn't want it to stay awake, so he attempted to let it fall into a less obvious position.

But as he shifted he felt something else in his pants, and curiously he put his own hand into his pocket. You'd returned your stolen underwear to the thief.

He took in a shaky breath and held them inside his pants while he willed himself to calm down. Partly because you were in public and partly because your dad was present. He almost had himself under control when you decided it was time for your next move.

"I need to go get a drink, I'll be back soon." You stood and pushed away from the table, bouncing away swiftly. He watched you go from the corner of his eye and then had to do a double take as you pushed yourself up against the bar ordering your drink.

You stuck your ass out, not enough to make it look intentional to anybody but him, but just enough so he could see the red underwear you had on underneath your dress.

He downed his drink and made his excuses before making his way right to the bar where you stood.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, so close behind you that you felt his breath in you before you heard his voice.

"Buying a drink, what does it look like I'm doing?" You scooted your ass back until it was pressed up against his crotch and he groaned, hard and loud in your ear.

"Y/N, you can't do that, your dad is right fucking there."

"I sure hope my dad isn't fucking over there, that'd really be a sight I didn't want to see." He shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he put his hands on you. Grabbing your hips, he walked you closer to the bar so that your ass was no longer on display, nor touching him in any way, then he moved to your side and left only one hand firmly touching your back so you knew not to immediately try something else again.

"This is your last warning. Now, you're going to order that drink and then you're going to walk back to that table like a good fucking girl, or so help me god, I will show your dad just how much of a slut you're being." His voice was a dark growl and you felt your panties growing more wet with each syllable, nodding instantly as the bartender came over.

For a minute, he'd genuinely thought that had worked. You'd ordered your drink without another word and then turned back to the table and walked nicely, having pulled your skirt back down a little bit. He'd thought he'd won until the second he'd sat down when Aaron Hotchner had grabbed his coat and stood up.

"Spencer, you're not drinking? Can you drive Y/N home tonight? I’m leaving now, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave so early.” You watched as his jaw twitched, taking only a second to compose himself before he agreed.

“Great, have a fun night sweetheart,” he said, kissing your head, before turning out and leaving with Rossi.

“Now, Spencer, what was that you were saying about good behavior at the bar? It was really so very interesting to me and I’d love to hear more.”

You spent the next half hour draining your drink and his self-control, stroking a hand down his chest as the others comfortably ignored your purring at him. He answered all your questions coldly, but every time your hand trailed a little bit too low he stopped it with a heavy hand and a warning look, letting you know that you were still getting to him.

Once you’d finished the first drink, you got up and moved to the bar once again, making sure that his eyes were on you completely as you swayed your hips on the way over. You pulled exactly the same move as you had earlier and made sure he knew you were going to be hard to handle the entire night.

When you returned, he was the only one left at the table, the others having scattered to the dance floor, the bathroom, and the bar. Taking the chance you climb directly into his lap.

“What’s wrong, Spence, you’re looking so lonely over here?” You rest your hands on his shoulders and let your ass fall to his lap, grinding down gently to feel him underneath you.

“How could I be lonely when you’re out here throwing yourself at me like a cheap whore?”

“Oh, we’ve already established how much cheap whores love you today, Spencer. Why would you be so surprised that I’m having the same reaction?”

The others slowly started returning so you pushed away from him for a second, straightening your clothes before they noticed anything amiss.

“Y/N, I need some youthful arm candy, come to the dancefloor with us!” Penelope pulled you from your seat and you laughed as you followed her, sending a wink back over your shoulder to Spencer.

He sat grinding his teeth as you continue your games on the dancefloor, swaying your hips suggestively, not sparing him a single glance as you practically exposed yourself on a dancefloor. He decided he’d let you have your fun and then march you out quickly. He moved his timeline up exponentially the minute he saw a man saunter up behind you, whispering in your ear before walking you over to the bar.

Downing his drink, he made his way to your side, pulling you away from the man quickly.

“We’re leaving now.” He said, leaning down to your ear as he grabbed your coat and pulled it around you.

“Man, what do you think you’re doing?” The man who had pulled you away was visually drunk, looking rough and dangerous as he leered down at you.

“She’s not interested and she’s too young for you anyway.” He said, very close to flashing his badge to get him to back off.

“What, you her dad or something?” He scoffed, but you turned on him with a wide smile as you leaned your head back against Spencer’s chest.

“He’s my daddy, actually.” With a wink, you left the bar, letting Spencer chase after you as you walked directly over to your car. Throwing him the keys, you jumped into the passenger seat.

“I’m taking you home now, you’re being reckless, you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Reckless how? It’s not like I’m the one who has been stealing my boss' daughter's panties for the last month.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You jacked off into my panties and now you’re pissed I caught you…wow.”

“Can you just shut up? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like me to tell him how you put them back in my pocket tonight, right?”

“Was that a threat, Spencer?”

“If I was going to threaten you, Y/N, you’d know.”

“You’ve changed, you know. Since I was a teenager. You’re different now.”

“No, I’m not. I’m very much the same.”

“You’re hotter now. I don’t know how that is possible because fuck did I want you back then, but now…” You let your eyes trail down his face as he continues to drive, jaw tense. His side profile had always been pretty, but with the bags under his eyes now more pronounced, you thought about what it’d be like to trail your mouth down his neck, what you would give to sit prettily on those lips of his.

Your tongue darts out to wet your own lips, as the fantasies grow to fill the car. Suddenly it’s his hands between your legs, making you moan like the whore he’d accused you of being earlier, it’s his tongue down your throat as he fucks his fingers into you, completely ruining you.

When you pull over, you’re certain that he’d heard your thoughts, because you didn’t recognize where you were at all.

“Spencer, this isn’t my dad’s house.”

“No, it’s mine. Get out of the car.” Suddenly obedient, you do exactly as he tells you, jumping out of the car as swiftly as you can and letting him march you up the stairs, right through his door and all the way to his bedroom. He pushes you forward gently but with a firm enough hand that you know he wants you on the bed. He doesn’t touch you any further as you prop yourself up on your elbows, but moves to another part of the room, grabbing something from a drawer before throwing it at you. Throwing them at you, you supposed, because when you looked down, you found your other pairs of missing underwear on your lap.

“I’m sorry for being so fucking dirty and disgusting, but you need to stop saying those things to me before I do something we both regret.”

You don’t reply, sitting and breathing heavily for a second before pushing your body further up the bed and reaching down. His eyes drink you in as he watches you hook two fingers underneath the underwear you’re wearing and drag them down your legs, not caring that he can see everything. You let go of them as soon as they’re hanging off your leg, holding them out to him.

“Peace offering?”

He’s on you in an instant, crawling on top of you so he can shut you up with his mouth, his hands, his whole being. You welcome him greedily, letting him take control as he pins your hips down underneath his.

“Little slut, you want me to fuck you so bad?” He says, a hand at your chest, pinching your nipple hard through your dress as you moan and writh underneath him. “Throwing yourself at your father’s friend like this, huh? Must be a little whore.”

He doesn’t let you respond, shoving two fingers into your mouth as you obediently wrap your lips around them and start sucking. Pushing your dress up, he groans at how wet you already are for him, swiping a finger over your clit carefully as you moan around his fingers, the vibrations shooting straight to his cock.

Lifting his hips, he unzips his pants in a second, not stopping to contemplate the consequences of his actions. His cock is pressed against you, gripped in his hand, but it’s hot and it’s heavy and fuck do you need it inside of you. He teases you with it as you whine around his fingers, trying to top from the bottom and grinding your hips up into him. He removes his fingers from your mouth reluctantly so he can hold your hips down.

“Spencer, don’t fucking tease me. Please just fuck me now.”

“Are all of you Hotchner’s this fucking bossy?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his question as you move to grab ahold of his cock, lining it up with your cunt and pushing it in slowly. A hand over yours stops you before it can get any deeper.

“Wait, I haven’t put a condom on yet.”

“Then you better make sure you pull out before I have to tell my dad exactly who it is that made him a grandaddy.” His hips snap up into yours then and with a few shallow pumps he’s fully sheathed inside of you as you scream at the feeling. You’d spent years thinking about this moment, but you’d never imagined he’d fill you so perfectly, stretching you out in all the best places.

His fingers return to your clit, working you up into a frenzy as you arch up into him, wrapping your legs around him to allow him better access. He growls into your ear with each thrust, before grabbing fistfuls of your ass and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He pulls out quickly, repositioning you and holding your legs open wide as he stands between your legs, lining his cock up and pushing into you once again, immediately regaining his pace. He lifts one knee onto the bed, again pushing your legs down into the bed and opening you up further to him. The new angle hits deeper inside of you than you were sure anyone had ever been, momentarily leaving you breathless and soundless, listening only to the noises coming from your cunt.

Wet slaps of skin against skin, the arousal trickling down your leg to stain his sheets.

You regain your breath just as he knocks it out of you again, pushing you over the edge as you cum, hard, on his cock. Your head goes dizzy as you struggle to come down from the bliss he’d pulled you up into, legs twitching as he continues pounding into him.

You’re vaguely aware of some loud moans and screams, and it takes you an entire minute to realize the sinful noises are coming straight from your mouth.

“Fuck, Spencer, so fucking good for me, you made me feel so good, thank you.” His hips stutter inside you then, and you feel a heat flood you.

“Shit,” he pulls out quickly and sprays the rest of his load over your pretty black dress, falling down on top of you and reclaiming your lips passionately. You stay locked together in that embrace for god knows how long, rolling around back and forth in his bed until he finally detaches himself, pulling your clothes off and throwing a large old t-shirt over your head before grabbing you like an oversized stuffed toy and leading you into the depths of oblivion.

When you wake up in the morning, the pounding in your head is exaggerated considering you hadn’t really drank that much the night before. It takes you a shocking amount of time to realize that the pounding wasn’t in your head though, but instead a loud banging against Spencer’s door, ordering him to open up

You’re so comfortable though, you try to ignore it. Until your father’s voice is pouring through the paper-thin walls.

“Spencer, open the door, right now, or I’m kicking it down. You have five seconds.” The Spencer in question shoots out of bed immediately from beside you, scrambling to pull on pants and make his hair look like you hadn’t been tangled in it all night before running to the door.

You similarly panic around the room for a second, searching for a hiding place and grabbing your phone before settling on the absolutely genius position of under the bed.

You hear the confrontation like it’s happening right over you.

“Aaron, I really think you’re going to regret this.” David Rossi’s voice is calm, trying to talk some sense into your father, but he isn’t having any of it.

“Where is she? I told you to drop her off at home when she was finished drinking, but she wasn’t there when I woke up.”

“I can explain…” Spencer trailed off, and you cursed the man for being such a bad liar. That line hadn’t worked on you, either, so you doubted it’d work on your dad. Opening your phone, you check the time. 11:47. You quietly cursed yourself as you opened the multiple messages from your father.

You decide to help Spencer out by replying to one of them now.

“Hey, Dad. I ran into an old friend last night, and Spencer made sure we both got back to her’s safely. I’m still at her apartment, but I guess I forgot to text last night because I was so tired, sorry for worrying you!”

You heard his phone ping with the message, heard the tense silence as he read the message slowly, and heard the incredibly loud ping of your own phone, screaming from inside Spencer’s room as he replied.

Unfortunately, your dad hears it, too.

Pushing past Spencer, who in his defense is doing a great job of taking a stand by slowing down your father momentarily, Aaron Hotchner bursts into the room just as you poke your head up from the side of the bed.

“Morning, Daddy.” You try, hoping to sweet talk your way out of this whole situation.

“Living room, now.” He says, hesitating for only a moment. “You’re dressed, right?” You almost laugh at his pathetic tone before considering the situation, just nodding and walking out behind him as you try to make Spencer’s shirt cover more of your body than it originally did.

There’s a gleam in Rossi’s eye as you walk past him, head hung in embarrassment. You sit guiltily on the couch, and Spencer finds his way next to you, and you suddenly feel like two children about to get the scolding of a lifetime.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, and you grow suddenly angry at the indignant tone of his voice.

“Dad, I am 23 years old, I do not need a lecture for spending the night out.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, sit down. Spencer? Anything to say.” You slump back into your seat and wait for the answer just the same as your dad is, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, you feel a blanket being thrown over your legs, and it isn’t until then that you notice how cold you’ve been. He takes the time to wrap the material around your body, making sure you’re comfortable before he even thinks about looking up at your dad.

“Hotch, what is it that you want to know?” He levels his stare with your father, and it seems to dampen his anger a little bit. They’re having a silent war right now, in some kind of expressive language that you’ve never been able to decode, and somehow, it seems that Spencer is winning.

“Did you use protection?” Your sharp intake of breath is about all the answers your father needs, and you realize how majorly you’d fucked up by letting the conversation get this far.

“Dad!” you shout indignantly. “That is frankly none of your business.” He doesn’t look at you though, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes stay focused on Spencer, trying to figure out something you’re not even sure of yourself.

“For god’s sake, Dad, I’ve been in love with him for five years.” All the eyes in the room snap to you then, and if you hadn’t been feeling shy before, you certainly were now.

“Y/N, you’re barely an adult.”

“I’m sorry that’s entirely rich coming from the guy who had a child straight out of high school. I’m an adult, which is why I’m allowed to make my own mistakes and decisions, and I’d really prefer your support instead of your judgment.” Your father tries to speak again, to protest some part of what you just said, but unlistening, you groan in frustration and just climb directly into Spencer’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer panics below you for a second, before resting comfortably on your legs, far enough down that he is spared your father’s dirty looks.

“Aaron, I think you’d better hear the girl out. She reminds me a lot of someone I know, so hard-headed these youths of today are.” You are intensely thankful for Rossi’s presence then and you send a thankful smile his way, just as your dad grumbles.

“Uncle David is right, you should listen to Uncle David.”

“Until a few days ago, you were calling Spencer “Uncle Spencer” so I’d be quiet if I were you, Y/N.”

“Heard.” He pauses for a second to think, the years finally etching into his skin as he breathes out a sigh of relief. You suddenly feel bad for not being home when he woke up, and you can only imagine how it must’ve felt to not know where you were, or if you were safe after everything that he’d already been through.

“I’m not against this, I suppose. But I swear to god if you ever go missing on me again, I will have an entire agency out for you.”

“You know where I’ll be, Dad.” He nods then turns to Spencer.

“You’re going to take her to a pharmacy in the next three hours to get emergency contraception, and then the both of you are going to come - fully clothed - to my house. It’s been a while since we had a family dinner.” You smile brightly up at him, and within another minute, it is just you and Spencer in the apartment alone.

You looked back up at him shyly and tried to awkwardly climb out of his lap, but he pulled you right back into him.

“For the record, I think I’ve only been in love with you for 37 days. Is that okay with you?” All of the confidence drains from your body as you struggle to find the words.

“In my defense, it’s not that I didn’t love you back then, it’s just that you were so young, I think I never considered it. And when I realized that you had those feelings, I felt so guilty about it, I never stopped to let myself think about what else I was feeling. And then you were gone and I didn’t have to think about it again, and then you came back, and I’ve been doing a lot more thinking now, and I think that-”

“I think that you should shut up and kiss me, Spencer Reid.” You said.

“Heard.” You giggled as he pressed his lips up into your own, pulling you further down into him as he held you tight. You didn’t come up for air for a long while, drinking as much of him in as you could as he gave you his heart.

“You know what this means?” You said, finally pulling away with a gasp.

“What?”

“You don’t have to steal my panties anymore. I can just give them to you now.” He lit up red underneath you and groaned as you laughed at his pained expression.

“As long as you never mention that to your father, I think we’ll escape this job and lives intact.” He said, a faraway look telling you he was likely running probability on those ideas right at that second.

“Just remember, my dad has two weapons and the ability to move you halfway across the country should he choose to.” You pressed your forehead against his, chuckling once again at his pained expression. “But also remember, that I’d happily follow you anywhere, Reid.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Hotchner. Oh, no, that was weird. We’re going to have to get you a new name sooner rather than later.” You gasped as he lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you back to the bedroom.

“Spencer! What are you doing?”

“We need to go brainstorm some new names, too weird to call you Hotchner. And I do all of my best thinking in bed.”

“Really? I do mine in the shower,” you teased, holding tight to his shoulders as he continued forward.

“We can definitely try that next.” He said, carrying you through the door, and closing it shut behind him, hoarding your attentions for the rest of the morning.

[megalony]

A Special Guest

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine with lots of fluff, requested by the lovely @klovesreading. I hope you will all like it, feedback always makes my day, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Eddie and (Y/n) bring their daughter down to the station so the team can meet her for the first time. And they see how Eddie will do anything for his girls.

Enjoy.

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

"Shall I get her?" A smile wormed its way onto (Y/n)'s lips when she climbed out the truck and looked over at her husband. Her hand moved to hold her hip and her head tilted to the side when Eddie shook his head.

"No, I got her."

Nodding, she opened the back door for Chris and when he hopped down, she reached in and found the beige Winnie The Pooh bag with all her and Poppy's things in. She felt Chris take her hand as they rounded the other side of the car where Eddie was.

"Come're, little lady." Eddie undid the buckle and carefully slid his hands around Poppy to lift her out the carrier. He didn't see any point in taking her inside in the carrier when he knew exactly what was going to happen today. No one at the station was going to put her down, not even for a second. She would be passed around the team so they could all see her for the first time and once he'd had enough, Eddie would steal his daughter back.

Since the moment they brought her home, Eddie had barely put her down. He had been the same when he came back from the army and got to hold Chris. He wouldn't put his son down, not for anything, and it was the same now with his little girl.

He cooed as he leaned back and settled her on his chest, one hand on her bum and the other rubbing up and down her back. He loved the way her hand curled around his collar and her other hand nudged against her nose as her eyes started to look around.

"Let's go." Chris excitedly pulled on (Y/n)'s hand and led the way towards the station.

He was excited to see the team. He hadn't seen anyone but Evan since Poppy was born. This was the first time the rest of the team were going to see Poppy.

With Evan being (Y/n)'s big brother, he had insisted on seeing his new niece and his sister and making sure they were alright. And he had looked after Chris when (Y/n) went into labour so he had brought Chris down to the hospital to meet his sister. But no one else in the team had been round yet.

They understood that (Y/n) and Eddie wanted to keep their daughter to themselves for a little while. They wanted to spend time at home with her and Chris and get used to new dynamics. But now she was almost three weeks old, they thought they should bring her down to see the team before Eddie came back to work.

(Y/n) curled her free hand around Eddie's bicep and leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling down at their little girl curled up on his chest.

It was a sight (Y/n) didn't know she needed until Poppy was first placed in Eddie's arms. It was clear to see that she had Eddie wrapped around her finger. She cried if he put her down. She spent most of the night in Eddie's arms since every time she cried for a bottle or a cuddle, Eddie shot up to tend to her first.

"Uncle Buck!" Chris let go of (Y/n)'s hand and rushed forward when he saw Evan checking the stock in the ambulance.

It had been great for Chris to learn that when (Y/n) and Eddie got married, Evan actually became his uncle. He could call him uncle Buck and actually mean it this time without wishful thinking.

"Hey buddy, you okay?" Evan leaned down and scooped him up, spinning him around before he looked across and grinned when he noticed the rest of his family walking in.

"We brought Poppy."

"Guys, we have a special guest." Evan carefully set Chris back down to his feet and waited patiently for (Y/n) and Eddie to come over to them. "How's my niece?" Evan pushed up on his toes and leaned forward to try and get a better look at Poppy, but Eddie didn't exactly make it easy. He kept her snuggled down into his chest and made no attempt to turn her towards Evan or let him see her properly.

He took note of the small purple hat she was wearing and the red and white onesie she was wearing that looked a little too big for her yet.

"Wide awake and probably hungry," (Y/n)'s lips quirked into a grin as she looked over at her brother, then down to her daughter.

"Let me have her, then."

Eddie took a deep breath and looked down at his little girl before he looked over at his brother in law. He didn't want to hand her over. He wanted her to stay right where she was because right now, she was content on his chest and happily tucked away in his arms. Eddie loved the feel of her weighing down on his chest, as close to his heart as he could get her. He didn't like the panic he felt when someone else other than him or (Y/n) held her.

But when Evan held his hands out, Eddie relented and carefully eased her off his chest and into Evan's waiting arms.

He watched Evan tilt her back and lay her in the crook of his left arm, her little eyes wide with curiosity as she stared up at the new stranger holding her. And when Evan grinned down at her, his lips parted and he huffed when he read what was on her onesie.

Daddy's girl. Evan could well believe that.

He brushed his thumb against Poppy's nose and grinned down at her as he turned to make his way over to the stairs. The rest of the team were up in the annex and they would be thrilled to see who had turned up.

A smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips when she looked up at Eddie as they started to follow Evan. He was trying to look over Evan's shoulder and keep an eye on Poppy. (Y/n) tightened her hands around Eddie's arm and pushed up into his side while he reached out and gently nudged Chris to walk in front of them up the stairs.

"Can I play a game?" Chris tilted his head back into Eddie's chest and pointed over to the games machine near the sofa.

"Sure."

"Look who's arrived." Evan wandered over to the table where Hen and Chimney were sat and Bobby was stood in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. All eyes darted over to him and grins beamed back at him when they realised what small bundle he had in his left arm.

Reaching the table, (Y/n) slumped her bag down onto one of the chairs and smiled when Hen reached out to rub her arm. Hen couldn't seem to decide where to look, she wanted to catch a glimpse of their newest arrival, but she also wanted to talk to (Y/n).

"How are you? You look great."

(Y/n) darted her eyes down her frame before she looked over at Hen, pursing her lips to morph her smile. She didn't feel like she looked great. Her stomach had gone down a lot but (Y/n) still felt like her frame was a weird shape. She felt better when she wore leggings as they hugged her waist and made her feel like her shape was a bit more… herself. And dresses only pinched her waist and made her hips stick out.

"I feel good, but I think I look-"

"Beautiful. As always." Eddie wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and perched his chin on her shoulder. He leaned over to kiss her cheek and pulled her back up against his chest.

Tilting her head to the side, she murmured a quiet 'Thank you' against his lips as she felt his hands roam around her stomach. She had been a bit worried when she got pregnant that she would feel uncomfortable with the way her body would look and change. Eddie made that impossible.

The way Eddie glued himself to her, kissed and praised her stomach and barely let go of her throughout the entire pregnancy made it impossible for (Y/n) to feel like she didn't love the way she looked. And now as her frame changed again, Eddie seemed to love it even more.

She looked across at her brother who leaned back against the table and waited patiently for Bobby to approach. He had become their surrogate father and he was as close to (Y/n) as he was to Evan.

"Go to grandad." Evan whispered before he settled Poppy over into Bobby's waiting arms.

"I told you. We're not getting her back anytime soon." Eddie tipped his head over towards the team before he attached his lips to (Y/n)'s neck. "Do you want a drink?"

(Y/n) nodded and pecked Eddie's cheek before she moved to sit down next to Hen at the table.

"She looks like a little doll, how big was she?" Hen looked across the end of the table when Bobby sat down. He lifted Poppy up in the air and cooed at her while Evan stood behind him and tickled her cheek and pulled a face to see if he could make her smile.

They all knew Evan was going to be their go-to babysitter. He was attached to Chris and he was already in love with his niece. Kids levitated to Evan, he knew how to get through to them and make them smile and the inner child in him always brightened up any atmosphere. And right now, he was desperate to be the first one to make Poppy grin and giggle.

"Six pounds one ounce, thank God." (Y/n) slouched back in her chair and leaned her head back. She had been more than relieved when Poppy was born that she was just like a tiny doll and she didn't weigh heavy.

From how big her stomach seemed to be and how she started showing very early on, (Y/n) panicked the baby would be large and make her first birth a hard, traumatic one. But labour had lasted eighteen hours which was great in (Y/n)'s eyes. She didn't have to last more than a full day or two days in labour and Poppy was perfectly healthy.

"Can I have a hold?" Hen held her hands out and grinned when the little girl was passed across the table to her like a package.

Her wide eyes scanned over Hen before she seemed to scan around the room and look around for something. Her little face scrunched up and her nose crinkled before a quiet whimper bubbled past her lips.

Hen switched to settle the newborn on her knees and bounce her up and down, leaning her back in her arm to see if it would settle her.

"Don't take offense, she needs a bottle."

Leaning forward, (Y/n) scanned through her bag and found the bottle she'd packed. She slung a small towel over her shoulder and got up from the table, moving round to the kitchen whilst Evan took her seat to be next to his niece.

She curved her arm around Eddie's waist and pressed up against him as she walked over towards the kettle that had just boiled. She kissed his shoulder and filled the bottle, leaning back as she shook the mix together. A grin spread across (Y/n)'s lips when Eddie turned around to face her, pinning his hands on the counter behind her on either side of her waist so she was caged in beneath him.

He tilted his head down into the crook of her neck and grazed his teeth against her skin while he pressed his body down on hers.

"Want me to do it?"

"No, I've got her this time." When Eddie lifted his head, (Y/n) stole a kiss and bit down on his bottom lip before she pushed him backwards so she could be released.

She could feel his hands lingering on her waist, making it harder to pull away from him as she headed back towards the table. Her daughter had been passed around again. Chimney was holding her this time but she was starting to wail. She was hungry.

"Alright, I've got your lunch little lady." Once her daughter was back in her arms, (Y/n) headed over towards the sofa.

She smiled softly when Chris turned around from the games machine he was playing on and looked across at her. It felt good to sit back down and (Y/n) let herself sink into the sofa with Poppy batting her hands against her chest as if demanding attention and the bottle she knew her mum had.

(Y/n) crossed her left leg across her right thigh and propped her knee up before she slowly laid Poppy down. She settled Poppy's head in the crook of her knee and rested her weight on her thigh, keeping her pinned in place between her legs so she didn't have to hold her.

The moment the bottle was at her lips, all cries ceased and Poppy curled her hands around (Y/n)'s fingers like she was making sure she didn't try and take the bottle away from her anytime soon.

"You okay?" (Y/n) watched Chris walk over and plonk down next to her on the sofa, nodding happily.

He leaned his head on her arm and reached his hand out, silently asking if he could hold the bottle instead. (Y/n) passed it over and let him hold it up for Poppy. Between Chris and Eddie, (Y/n) barely got chance to cuddle, feed or change her daughter since the boys tried to take all those jobs away from her and keep Poppy to themselves. But it felt good to have Chris want to be involved and see Eddie so attached to his little girl.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned her cheek on top of Chris's head, feeling his curls tickle her cheek and her neck as she curved an arm around his shoulders.

But she tilted her head back with a smile when a familiar pair of hands reach down to hold her shoulders and a pair of lips smother her temple.

Eddie arched his back out and crossed one leg over the other as he leaned his elbows on the back of the sofa. He kept his lips pressed against (Y/n)'s forehead and rubbed his thumbs across her shoulders while his eyes focused on the two kids sat with her.

"Uncle Buck wants you, he said do you want to look in the ambulance this time?" Eddie moved a hand down onto Chris's shoulder and grinned when he nodded. Last time Chris came to the station he got to help Evan check inventory in the truck and go inside. This time he could have a look round the ambulance and see what they kept inside and where everything was stored.

Chris set the empty bottle down on the coffee table before he got up and rushed over to the table to find his uncle and Hen who was going to help show him round the ambulance.

"Can I steal her back now?" Eddie's voice tickled the shell of (Y/n)'s ear and they both knew he was going to reach down and take Poppy whether she agreed or not.

He swiped the cloth from her shoulder and tossed it over his own before he slid his hands down (Y/n)'s sides. He made a point of squeezing her waist and reaching to dig his fingers into her thighs until she shivered and squirmed in her seat.

He gave her thigh a light tap before he carefully eased Poppy up from (Y/n)'s lap and lifted her up.

"Hey baby," He kissed her cheek before he settled her down on his chest with her chin perched happily on his shoulder and his hand on her back. He rubbed circles across her back and gently swayed her up and down.

Eddie bit down on the corner of his lip when he watched (Y/n) slowly turn around and push up on her knees on the sofa. She leaned her head to the side and pressed her stomach into the back of the sofa so she was almost level with Eddie who stood just a little bit taller. He rose a brow as he looked down at her, silently questioning what she was doing.

But his lips curved into a smile when he felt (Y/n)'s hands reach out for his hips and curve around his back. When he felt her fingers slip into the back pockets of his jeans and squeeze, he chuckled and obliged as she used his jeans to pull him closer. His hips bumped into the back of the sofa and (Y/n) pressed up into him with her chin pressing into his upper chest so she could stare up at him.

"Do I get a kiss?"

Something about the way Eddie was able to keep Poppy held up against his shoulder with one arm made (Y/n)'s stomach flutter. She watched as he reached one hand down to cup her chin and bring her closer.

"You get as many as you like." He mumbled softly against her lips before he took the plunge and kissed her.

She could quite happily get used to this sight.

***

"Poppy did it again." Eddie mused as he opened the bathroom door and headed inside.

This was the second time in two days that Poppy had thrown up on him and he was starting to think that she thought this was some sort of new game they could play. She either threw up on Eddie, spat her milk back at him or needed to be changed within five minutes of being in his arms. She seemed to look at her dad and immediately think of playing games with him.

He nudged the bathroom door shut behind him but when he lifted his head and looked around the room, his eyes narrowed and his jaw loosened a little.

He knew (Y/n) had come in the bathroom a few minutes before him, but they always had an open door policy. If the door wasn't locked, they could walk in on each other if they needed something out the bathroom.

"Uh, mi amor, everything alright in here?" Eddie sucked in a deep breath as he did another sweep around the room.

It looked like Eddie had walked in on a murder in progress. There was a pile of bloodied clothes near the bath, a blood-covered towel in (Y/n)'s hands and when he looked her up and down, he could see streaks and smears of blood on her inner thighs and around her knees.

"Yeah, I- I'm okay." (Y/n) closed her eyes and tilted her head down, clamping her lips together as tightly to swallow down a groan when her stomach cramped.

Her arm bound around her waist and her other hand clenched around the towel she was holding onto.

"Baby you don't look okay."

A shiver rolled down her knee when she felt Eddie's hands on her thighs and when she dared to open her eyes, she saw him knelt down on the floor in front of her. He rolled his lips together and arched a brow, waiting for her to give in and tell him the truth.

Eddie wasn't stupid. He could see that (Y/n) didn't look very well and she looked in discomfort. Lying to him wasn't going to get her anywhere and they both knew it.

"I… I guess I got my period back." She muttered quietly while she watched Eddie nod and look around the room again.

(Y/n) wasn't sure when she was going to get her first period after having Poppy, there was no exact time scale, she just had to wait and see. It crept up on her this afternoon. By the time she realised what the familiar cramps were, she'd ruined her underwear and leggings and made quite the murder scene in the bathroom.

"Clearly," Eddie mused with a smile before he leaned back and carefully took off his shirt that Poppy had decided to stain for him. He tossed it on (Y/n)'s crumpled pile of clothes before he gave her knee a gentle squeeze.

"Just give… give me five minutes to clean up, I'm fine." She pressed her lips together and left the towel slumped across her knees. She would be fine once she'd cleaned up and got changed. She wasn't expecting Eddie to walk in on her like this.

"No mi amor it's okay, I've got this." When he stood up, Eddie leaned forward and kissed her temple. He felt her shiver before he bundled all the clothes together and he gently swiped the bloodied towel from her lap and handed her a clean one before he left to put everything in the wash.

(Y/n) lifted her head and looked back at the door when he walked back in a minute later. Her eyes followed him as he walked in with a pile of clothes that he placed down on the side of the bath. She wondered if he was going to grab a shower until he found a flannel and crouched down in front of her again.

"Alright, let's get you cleaned up."

"Baby I can do that-" She tried to take the flannel from him but the stern look in Eddie's eyes made her pause.

Her hand hovered over his and she took a sharp breath when he looked up at her and tilted his head to the side. She didn't want him thinking he had to help, if he gave her five minutes she would clean up and get changed, he didn't have to help.

"No, you're gonna let me look after you. That's not debatable."

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and nodded. She could see she wasn't going to get anywhere if she tried to argue with Eddie on this and she didn't want to get on his stern side.

Her hand moved to tangle in his hair and she smiled softly when he pressed a kiss against her knee and her inner thigh. She dropped the towel beside her and let Eddie help clean the smear lines from her thighs. Sparks shot up her wrists and through to her chest when Eddie cupped her wrist and dabbed the lukewarm flannel across her palms before he handed her the towel again.

"Does it hurt?" When (Y/n) gingerly nodded, Eddie moved to the bathroom cabinet and found some painkillers and filled a glass with water. "Take these."

(Y/n) did as instructed and looked over when Eddie grabbed the clothes from the side of the bath. He knelt back down and passed the clothes across to (Y/n), saving the grey cotton shirt for himself.

He'd gotten her some of his loungewear gear. Black shorts and a white cotton shirt for her to wear instead. It was the afternoon and they weren't going to be going out anywhere today so Eddie saw no point in getting dressed up when it was going to be a movie afternoon with the kids.

She felt better when she got dressed, but standing up made her head go dizzy and (Y/n) latched her arms around Eddie's middle and leaned her head into his chest. She felt his arms curve around her and he kissed the top of her head before he tilted her head back so she was looking up at him.

"Okay?"

"Hm, thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. I told you, I'm always gonna look after you." Eddie didn't want (Y/n) to thank him and he didn't ever want her to feel embarrassed or as if she couldn't ask him for help.

He kept his arm bound around her waist but when (Y/n) made no attempt to move or leave the bathroom, Eddie's smile softened. His hands raked their way down her waist to the back of her thighs and in one swift motion, he picked her up.

He loved the quiet gasp she let out into his chest and the deep breath she sucked in when he hooked her legs around his waist and sat her low on his hips. His hands stayed on her thighs to keep her in place and his lips attached to the side of her head when (Y/n) tucked her face into the crook of his neck.

Eddie made his way down the hall and wandered back into the living room where he'd been with Poppy for the last hour. He turned and carefully eased (Y/n) down onto the sofa, pecking her lips before he moved towards the carrier near the armchair. He gently eased Poppy up and took her back towards the sofa with him.

A grin lit up his face when he settled Poppy down on his chest and propped his feet up on the coffee table so he could slouch down. He let Poppy wriggle around on his chest and get comfy, tucking her face into his clean shirt with her arms snuggled up to her chest and her knees coiled up on his abdomen.

And when (Y/n) shuffled closer and buried her face into his shoulder, Eddie looped his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer so she was tucked up beneath his arm.

"Chris, you picked a movie yet?" Eddie tilted his head back and waited for a response. Chris had gone to his room over ten minutes ago to find a movie to watch. He had either struggled to find one or he had gotten distracted by something in his room.

When Chris came trotting into the room mumbling "Found one," Eddie pointed at the tv and Chris knelt down to put the dvd on.

He turned around when the dvd was in and looked at the sofa, quietly debating whereabouts he wanted to sit for a family movie. Before he seemed to settle on sitting on Eddie's other side so (Y/n) could lay out. Both he and Eddie could see that (Y/n) wasn't going to be awake to watch this movie for very long. She looked like she would be asleep within ten minutes.

With a smile, Chris climbed up onto the sofa and wedged himself between Eddie and the armrest, causing his dad to huff and budge up into (Y/n) so they both weren't squished together.

He felt Chris rest his head on his arm and when Chris reached across to rest his hand on Poppy's back, both parents grinned beaming smiles.

This was their family.

[peachesofteal]

I love me some angst and this baby trapped au is sustaining me!! But I gotta ask… what happens if darling just haves the baby then up and leaves in the middle of night?? Leaving Simon and Johnny to raise this baby they forced on her?? Or even worse (and forgive me for this) she dies in childbirth and then they finally have their baby but no darling…. They’re probably having some regrets about lying to her lol

This au has invaded my life and I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m hooked ❤️🪝

SEEK HELP. But don't, because I love you. And this.

Baby trap au / Darling left after discovering her tampered birth control 18+ Mature themes. Character death. Childbirth. Hurt absolutely no comfort.

It starts with the twinge in the lower part of your belly, off to the left side. You had woken up with it, on top of your usual sore back and stiff muscles, the everyday occurrences that seemed plague you consistently since the start of your third trimester. You were always hot, always tired, always crampy, grumpy, and generally... miserable.

You didn't mean to be, but being pregnant was a hardship in so many ways, and being pregnant with no one to help you, was even harder. It took its toll. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. And now, by the ninth month... you were just so ready to be done with it.

You hadn't seen or talked to the guys since the day you walked out, the day you found that fucked up piece of foil, the day you realized what they did, and you left. You hated them for it. Hated them, for taking away your choice. Hated them, for trying to control your body. Hated them, for removing your autonomy.

At night, when you laid down to sleep, it was impossible not to feel other things, the longing, the loneliness, the love, that still lived in your heart for them, against all odds, the ache of missing them growing in your soul as your baby grew each month.

You were in an impossible situation. One you didn't know what do with it.

But today, you were preoccupied with the twinge. The twinge, that had bloomed into a full spasm of muscles across your belly, the twinge that had your boss insisting you go to hospital as soon as possible.

"Let us call an ambulance. I've had four kids! I know labor when I see it." She had hemmed and hawed while you told her it wasn't necessary, that you weren't even in active labor yet, and that you still felt totally okay.

"I'm fine." you had reassured her. "Walking is good for labor right? I'm just going to walk the three blocks and be fine."

Six hours later, you're in a bed with your legs in a pair of stirrups with a nurse by your side, holding your hand as your contractions get closer and closer, your body seizing and cramping with pain through each one, the sting getting worse and worse as the minutes tick on.

You're doing this. You're having a baby. Alone.

The realization shocks you, startles you into a moment of weird, zen like reflection, like everything is moving in slow motion around you, like nothing is progressing as you think about the fact that the guys aren't actually here, that you never did call them, that you never did tell them that you wanted to forgive them one day. That you wanted to talk to them. See them again.

That you wanted them to be here with you, for this, to see the birth of their daughter.

Another contraction rips through you and steals your breath, and you faintly hear the nurse telling you breathe while your body locks up in unmeasurable pain. Something prods between you legs, and then there's a voice saying you're fully dilated, and ready to push.

Ready? Now?

No. No... you can't. It's too fast. They're not here. They need to be here. You have to call them.

"Oh sweetheart, don't cry." The nurse speaks softly to you, but you can't help it. You want them. They were supposed to be here. They were supposed to be ones holding your hand, helping you, cutting the cord.

"We're going to push on the next contraction, okay?" Your doctor tells you, but you shake your head vehemently.

"No. I want my partners." you sob, and your nurse makes a sympathetic noise, while stroking some hair out of your face.

"You have to push." The nurse encourages, and pain streaks across your belly, sharp and insistent, forcing you to gasp for more air. "Ready? Push!" She tries to coach you, but you can't do it, can't even move, your body just writhing through the pain as your head spins and you pant. Your doctor says your name, kindly but somewhat stern after the contraction passes, and you moan.

"This baby is coming. You have to push." She says, and you know she's right, but you just can't get there in your mind, unable to consider the idea of her being born without Johnny or Simon being here.

"I want them." you sob, another spasm ripping through your body, forcing you to curl forward with an anguished shout. The nurse blots a cool, damp cloth against your head, while someone else on your other side adjusts your bed. There are people everywhere, all moving around in flurry, except for the doctor who's settling between your legs, eyes locking onto yours above your mask.

"There's no time dear." She says, and when you look up into your nurse's face, she seems sincere, encouraging and sweet, but you don't care. You want Johnny. You want Simon.

"P-please." You moan. "My phone- the passcode is 6669." The numbers come as a grunt when another contraction pulses through you. It's awful, burning, biting pain that shreds your belly, the muscles in your thighs, your back, everywhere, and you scream through it, while the two nurses on either side of you fold your legs back and the doctor coaches you to push.

"I can't!" You really can't. You can't do this without them. You don't even care about what they did anymore. You don't want to do this without them. They have to be here. "I can't, I ca-can't. Please, call Johnny. Or, or Simon." You pant, and eye the nervous looking aide that stands behind one of the nurses. "Call them!" You shout, and your sweet nurse gives him a nod, urging him into action as he fumbles with your phone and steps outside.

"Okay sweetheart. We're calling them, okay? But you have to push. Your body is ready." You shake your head, but you know she's right. You can feel your body bearing down, your muscles working inside of you, everything aligning so that you can have this baby.

It fills you with fear. Dread overcomes you, and when you feel the next contraction coming on, you begin to hyperventilate.

You can't have their baby without them.

"No... nonono-" You protest, like you're telling yourself, your own body, not to do what it was meant to do. It's useless however, because as your contraction peaks, your doctor is counting, and you can't help but push the way your body wants to, screaming your pain as loud as you can.

"Good job." She encourages once it passes, her eyes checking a tablet that's held in front of her face quickly, before returning her gaze back to you. "Okay, next one you're going to push for the full ten seconds okay? You can do it."

"I don't want to." You protest with a cry, and your nurse pats your hand sympathetically.

"I know, I know." She helps shift you forward, and then the next one is coming, and you feel like you're being torn apart, like your body is burning and being ripped in two as you push.

"I can see the head, you're almost there." Someone says, but you're not sure who it is, or if you care, your focus moving to one sole thing now, getting this baby out of your body as fast as you can. You breathe for maybe five seconds before the next wave begins, and then you're dropping your chin to your chest while you push with everything you have, voices in the room rising and falling, everything feeling too loud and too overwhelming, and then all of the sudden, there's a shifting inside of you, and then suddenly an overwhelming emptiness before-

a screaming, crying, shrieking baby is plopped onto your chest.

"There she is!" Your nurse calls, and you stare, slack jawed, unable to speak, unable to move while they cover her with a blanket and someone continues to work between your legs. "Congratulations mum!" The baby cries, and you lift a hand to cradle her closer while someone wipes around the top of her head.

"Hi, Bee... I'm your mom." you cry, and lower your lips to her head, placing a soft kiss on her skin while someone rubs her down. She cries, lungs healthy and full of power, and you laugh a little.

"Did you get a hold of them?" You ask him breathlessly, and he nods with a gulp.

"They're on their way." They're on their way. The words slam against your heart, and the feeling of relief is immense. They're coming. They're going to be here.

"Thank you." You hardly look at him, keeping your eyes on Bee, and her little angel face, perfect in every way.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. The doctor works on you, pressing on your stomach a few times in an awful way that hurts but is necessary, and then your bed is moved to a better position for sitting up. Bee is removed from your chest for measurements and a quick clean up, before she's placed back in your arms, freshly swaddled and soothed. You're mesmerized by her nose, her eyelashes, her tiny fingers that wrap around one of yours. Your baby, your daughter. The one you carried for nine months, the one that you went through so much heartache for, the one that you struggled so much for, was finally here. You wish they were here already, to see her, to see how precious she is, how amazing, and you sniffle through some tears when you realize you'll get to see the looks on both their faces when they see her for the first time, when they hold her.

You lift your hand to stroke the softness of her cheek, and frown, when it doesn't really cooperate... the limb feeling heavy and stiff, like it's not even really on your body. That's... weird. You try again, and again, with no success, and then you realize the room is kind of shifting, kind of spinning slightly, like you're dizzy.

"Uh-" You call out to the nurse who's on a laptop at the desk, her back partially turned towards you, and she glances over with a smile that quickly changes to a firm line when she rushes over. "I feel funny." You tell her, and she nods, the mechanics of the bed whirring while you're lowered completely flat. Bee cries, disrupted by the movement, and you want to shush her, soothe her, but the words don't come, and everything is very loud all of the sudden, bells, whistles, beeps and alarms going off at a frantic pace overtop the voices that have quickly filled the room.

"-ake the baby."

"too much-"

"hemmorage-"

The words come in clips, and your vision becomes filled with white dots as Bee is lifted off your chest, the arm that held her close to your body falling limply to your side. What's happening? You want to ask, want to scream it at them. Where are you taking her? She's crying in the nurse's arms, her distressed little face the last thing you see before your vision goes completely black, and you fade away.

"Drive fucking faster." Johnny shouts, and Simon squeezes his knee to try to calm him as best he can in this moment, even though the two of them are the farthest thing from being calm.

You were in labor, and you had actually called them. Simon's heart had soared when he answered the phone, telling the guy on the phone to tell you that they were on their way, that they'd be there soon while he and Johnny sprinted to the car. You had called them. You wanted them there.

"Tell her we love her!" He had huffed while fumbling with the keys. "We love her so much. We'll be there soon."

"Settle, Johnny." He's trying to keep Johnny calm, trying to keep himself calm, while also trying to drive as fast as possible to get to you.

"Aye, 'm sorry. I'm just... I can't wait to see her. I can't believe she called." Simon can't either. He can't believe that after eight months of being apart, eight months of wondering if they'd even ever see you again, it was them you were calling for when you needed someone, them that you wanted by your side.

It felt like a gift. It felt like a second chance.

"I hope she's okay." Johnny hedges, nervous tinge to his voice and Simon rubs his thigh to try to soothe him.

"I'm sure she's fine, babies are born all the time, yeah?"

"Yeah."

They rush the desk when they get there, both spitting out your name and the woman jerks backwards before adjusting, typing onto her keyboard to locate your record. A full minute passes, while the receptionist's brow furrows, and they both nearly explode.

"She should be here, we got a phone call." Johnny blurts.

"Should be in labor and delivery." Simon tries to provide, helpfully and they both stand there anxiously, while she taps away.

"Ah! Sorry, there she is. I've paged the L&D department, and someone will be down shortly. You can wait in those seats over there." She points to some arm chairs, and they both ignore the suggestion, opting to stand right in front of a set of doors.

"Mr. Riley? Mr MacTavish?" A female voice calls a few minutes later, and they nod, overeager as she approaches. A million questions bubble up in Simon's head, where are you, have you delivered yet, are you doing okay, how's the baby... but they all come to a screeching halt when the doctor gets close enough for him to read her face.

No.

"Can you come with me?"

"And there was just too much blood. Once the hemorrhaging started, it couldn't be controlled." Johnny hears what the doctor is saying. He can hear her, loud and clear. He copies her.

But he doesn't understand. His brain can't make the words fit, can't make them make sense. What does that mean? He glances at Simon, who doesn't look at him, just stares at the doctor, face stricken, pale as ash. Like he's seen a ghost. Like someone has died. But that can't be right.

"Alright." He says slowly. "But she's going to be okay?"

"Johnny." Simon croaks, and the doctor shakes her head.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. MacTavish. She's gone." Who's gone? Not you, obviously. What's going on here?

"No. No, no she can't be gone." Johnny protests. This doctor is clearly confused. "She just had someone call us. She's having... she's having a baby. Our baby. She's-" The doctor gives him a sad look, sympathetic and understanding. "No. She can't be gone, we just... we just got here. We-"

"Johnny." Simon says again and Johnny pivots on him.

"Tell her Si. Tell her, she's alright." Simon swings an arm forward, grabbing him by the collarbone, and holding on tight, pulling him close to his body.

It's only then, when Johnny looks up into Simon's face, and sees the tears there, sees those eyes, flooded, sees his cheeks, wet, his face full of turmoil and distress, that it really makes sense.

"No." He whispers. "No, she can't be." He shakes his head, and Simon tries to hold it still, tries to cradle his face in his palms. "Simon." He moans, word splitting into a cry, and then he's burying his face into Simon's neck, spilling hot tears onto his skin. Darling. Their Darling. Their Darling girl. Gone.

Because of them.

They did this.

Simon's body is shaking, shoulders trembling with his sobs, while he holds Johnny close, and Johnny screams into his chest, he screams and he screams until there's nothing left inside of him, every second ticking by bringing him farther and farther away from a time in his life when you still existed, when you were still in this world with them. And he wants it to stop, he wants it to stop so fucking bad but it won't, and he can't make it, he can't do anything, except stand here and scream, scream and beg and plead an unknown entity who's never given him anything good except for you and Simon.

They never got to tell you they still love you.

They didn't even get to say goodbye.

Hours later, they sit in a room with an empty bed, side by side, while a nurse stands in front of them with a tiny, sleeping baby wrapped in a blanket.

"This is your daughter." She tells them. "Her name is Bee."

"Bee." Johnny whispers, and she nods.

"Would you like to hold her?"

"Yes." Johnny says, but the word sounds flat, and he feels numb. The nurse places little Bee in his arms, while Simon watches, unblinking from where he sits right next to him. "Bee." He says again, looking down at her, truly looking at her for the first time. She looks so much like you, more like you than either of them, and he can't stop the tears that fall freely, while Simon reaches over and hesitantly strokes her cheek with a knuckle.

"She's beautiful." Simon whispers hoarsely, voice coarse with tears, and Johnny agrees. Johnny tries to stifle a sob, desperate not to wake Bee while she sleeps, but Simon can't stop himself, and he covers his face with his hand to try to smother his cry. "She looks just like her." Simon chokes, and Johnny's arms shake around where Bee is cradled. He leans to the side, into Simon, who wraps his arm around him immediately, holding Johnny while he holds their daughter, your daughter. They cannot stop their tears, their hearts cracking wide open in both of their chests as they stay down her, their only piece left of you in this world, the only thing they have left to cling to.

"You look just like your mum, baby Bee."

[steveshairychest]

Time travel au where Steve is the last one to go through the gate in Eddie's trailer, except when he comes out, he's not in his Hawkins anymore. Instead of being greeted by the sight of his friends safe and sound and Wayne's mug collection, he's standing in some random guys trailer.

He gets shoved out the front door and into the strange new world that is undoubtedly Hawkins, but not the Hawkins he remembers.

Everything feels wrong. The people look strange in their weird clothes and a lady across the park screams into a flat rectangle in her hand. The trailers look the same but there's something about them that's definitely wrong. Some guy blows smoke in his face while walking past and instead of the gross smell of cigarette he was expecting, it smells sweet, almost like strawberries. He's so fucking confused. He knows he's causing a scene by walking around gaping at everything, but what else is he supposed to do? Steal a car and drive off? He's never seen cars like this in his entire life!! Do they even work the same way?!

Maybe he has a concussion. Maybe this is his version of a vecna hallucination.

And then things only get more confusing when a little girl runs over to him and beams up at Steve like they've been best friends forever. "Hi, Mr Harrington! Why are you here?" She can't be older than 9.

Why does this little girl know him? He stares at her and his confusion must show because she tilts her head and frowns. "Are you okay, Mr Harrington?"

She keeps calling him Mr Harrington, is he a teacher here? Oh god, does that mean there's another version of himself running around here?! Wherever here is.

"I'm... fine. I'm just a little lost." He walks away before he scares the poor girl with his rising hysterics. Steve knows these roads like the back of his hand, he's driven them his entire life, but he takes a million wrong turns because there's suddenly so many new streets he's never even heard of. Where there should be a huge clearing, there is now a building so high Steve swears it touches the sky and the tree him and Robin used to have picnics under is now gone and replaced with a parking lot filled with more weird cars.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?!" Steve finally makes it to where his house should be and there's... nothing. It's just a block of land for sale. It tips him over the edge. He can't remember the last time he cried but right now he is balling and hiccuping as he stumbled down the street he grew up on. But it's wrong. It's all so wrong. People drive past and give him weird looks, a lady even stops jogging and takes out the tiny earplugs that play music so loud Steve can hear it, and asks if he's OK. "No, I'm not. This isn't real. This isn't real!"

It has to be vecna. He's got him. That's why he's stuck in this nightmare. "You have to play music! Give me your plug things! Make them play anything! Get me out of here." The woman refuses and does nothing but stand there in shock as Steve sinks down to the sidewalk and starts singing Everybody Wants to Rule The World as loud as he can.

"I'm calling 911. You need help." Steve doesn't hear her. He's singing so loud people are starting to come out of their houses to see what's going on but that doesn't matter to him. This isn't real. Vecna has him and he needs to get out.

When the ambulance pulls up, Steve's run out of tears. He's cried himself dry and he's resigned to the fact that any minute now, Vecna is going to snap his arms and legs. "I'm ready." He says quietly to no one but himself. He'd rather it be him than any of his friends. He knows they are probably watching him and trying to bring him back but it's too late. He can't hear the music they're playing.

"Steve?" A familiar voice drags him out of his own head, but it can't be real. He heard that voice take its final breath just mere minutes ago, he can still feel his drying blood under his fingernails. Steve lifts his head and there he is, it's Eddie, no doubt about it. His long hair is tied up in a bun and his eyes are sparkling with worry as he crouches down in front of Steve. It's then that Steve realises Eddie is in full paramedic gear and he's pulling all sorts of things out of a bag to check on Steve.

"Eddie, you're alive." He whispers in disbelief as Eddie checks him for any head injuries. "Where are we? How do we leave?"

Eddie pulls back and there's panic behind his eyes as he slowly helps Steve to his feet and gestures to his partner to grab the stretcher. "Steve, love, I need you to tell me what happened. Why aren't you at work?"

At work? What is Eddie going on about? And did he just call Steve love?!!

"Eddie, this isn't real. I need to leave. I can't stay here with you." He says it slowly so that Eddie understands. He may be some figment of Steve's weird dream imagination and he doesn't want to freak the poor guy out by telling him he's actually dead.

Eddie breathes in and out, his hands a little shaky as he helps Steve onto the ambulance stretcher. His partner helps get Steve set up in the back of the ambulance before they're driving off. Eddie reaches out and holds Steve's hand gently, the gesture surprising but not unwelcome. "Steve, baby, this is very much real life. You're in Hawkins. It's March 21st, 2023. Your name is Steve Harrington, remember?"

"Wait, what?!" Steve tries to sit up but Eddie gently pushes him back down. They hit a bump in the road and Eddie swears softly under his breath about his partner's driving. "It's not 1986?!" He's panicking. He can feel his heart rate spike and his breathing starts to quicken. Eddie tells him to stay calm and just breathe in and out but Steve can't hear him.

Maybe this really isn't Vecna. He'd be dead by now if Vecna had him and Eddie's touch feels too real to be a dream.

Before he knows it, his vision is going spotty and then he's out; the panic and absolute absurdity of it all finally getting to him.

"You'll be okay, Stevie."

Except this isn't the Steve Eddie knows and loves. His Steve, his darling husband, is currently having a dilemma of his own back in 1986.

[writersblg]

how the cod characters would react to their partner having a hyper-feminine bedroom

It was late at night when you brought your boyfriend/girlfriend back to your place for the first time. Still having a few lights on in your apartment you went around to turn them all off and check if you have closed all the curtains while you told your new partner to make themselves comfortable. So they looked around the rooms - all painted in white with some greenery with timeless emerald green furniture - until they got to your bedroom. Pink. Everything was covered in pink or white. White walls, pink bed sheets, white wardrobe, pink lamps and carpet. Tons of fluffy and big pillows laying across your bed in pink and you expected them to be normal about this?

Simon

Closest he’ll ever be to experience a stroke

Never slept worse in his life

Starts acting like he’s in a haunted house at first

Literally hyper aware suddenly

Genuinely has a hard time adjusting since he feels so out of place

Has to smoke before coming to your place to calm himself down just because of your bedroom

He’s going to end up as your phone background when he snored on your pink bed

Will slowly start to enjoy how soft and sweet the room actually is and how he maybe doesn’t need a gun on the bedside table

TeenLoose Ends!Simon (shameless self promo)

Best place on earth for him 💕

One of the pink pillows is his designated one

Thought it was just because you never cared to rearrange your room since early childhood

Would see if something is positioned differently right away

Would definitely make sure all photos will be deleted with him wrapped up in pink bed sheets

Soap

Giggles

Throws himself on the bed in an instant and is off - you can’t get him to wake up again

Definitely takes up the entire bed

Falls asleep with a plushie in his arms

Will buy a few pink items to drop at his home for you to feel more comfortable at his place

Gaz

Weirded out a little? But never slept better

Will address you with “Hi Barbie” from now on (Hi Ken 💕)

Mentally gets ready for weekly skincare routines together the second he sets foot in the bedroom

He almost once choked on a blanket in your bed in his sleep

He’s so unproblematic I’m gonna die 🫠

Price

Feels like he’s in Disney Land

The age gap just hit him in the face and is now convinced all of gen z has a room like that

Once had to answer a zoom call while being surrounded by pink plushies and he got bullied BADLY by his superiors

Will actually start to find your pink sleeping mask for him really useful and bring it with him when he’s travelling

Alex

“Awh that’s cute”

Doesn’t want to touch anything because it looks so nice to him

Also gets very giddy

Will show up with one of these pink cowboy hats with feathers on your door step

Farah

Stroke; call the ambulance

But will get used to it after some time and will kinda have the chance to rediscover girlhood in a way

Will trigger a Pavlovian reflex after some time and gets super sleepy at the sight of pink

Starts to get cuteness aggressions with you

Valeria

Will tell you that you’re too soft but secretly loves the bedroom; definitely her favourite room in your place

Steals little pink items she thinks you won’t be missing and places them in her place

Will choke someone if something she stole went missing or someone looks at it for too long

Alajandro

Will take a picture and send it to a group chat. Sorry

Will ask so many questions as to why this room looks like that. Not in a judgy way - more genuine curiosity

Will sleep on the edge of the bed because he feels so uncomfortable at first

I hc him regularly drooling on the bed sheets 😭

Rudy

Will actually act normal about it?

You’re waiting for a comment but there’s none

Will casually slip into his PJs and get under the pink covers and fall asleep

I think he has a thing for hyperfeminine partners in general so maybe that’s why 🎀

Keegan

“What the fuck?”

BUT he’ll literally fit in so well 🥹 and get used to it

Absolutely will start calling you “Princess”

Will start buying pink stuff because it reminds him of you; but don’t force him to wear anything pink - he won’t 🥲

I’m going insane over the picture in my head about his Siberian husky eyes and black hair in pink bed sheets

Really don’t want to bother you guys but if you have a few minutes maybe consider signing the petition for inquisitor ❤️ the link should be at the top of my blog

[yeeterthek33per]

Please Don't Go (Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested. (Kind of, the request was a little less intense 😅)

Warning: This shii about to be angsty, so fair warning. Blood. Near death experience.

Oooh, she's a doozy. Strap in y'all. She's a long one. Hope y'all enjoy.

---------

Everyone in the stadium could tell frustration was starting to set in amongst the players. Frustration for the Spanish at being down 2-0.

Frustration for the Matildas at the resounding physicality that the Spanish were now presenting.

With Caitlin sporting her head wrap, after a nasty collision with Andres, you were fuming. Despite winning, you still felt helpless watching her go down every two seconds. It didn't help your feet were taken out from under you constantly, either.

Apparently, when you score on one of the best teams in the world, they tend to take it personally. The one-two combo between you and the striker had become deadly twice this game. One each for you and your girlfriend.

That left La Roja scrambling, and no matter how hard they tried, even Hermoso's football IQ couldn't get them through your backline.

With scrambling came desparation, and with desparation, came dangerous tackles and stupid challenges.

Caitlin was infuriated the moment you went down after a studs up tackle, that was one you'd barely managed to brush off, hopping up to avoid being taken off with just ten minutes of the game to go.

Her protests to the ref were ignored when she did nothing to punish the offending player.

Your heart was racing, eyes flickering constantly between your own teammates and the fast footed midfielders of the opposing team and where the ball was situated.

Constantly on the lookout, you were playing decently otherwise. Your head on a swivel as you passed the ball back and forth between you and Kyra on the left side rank, occasionally dipping back to Steph. You knew you were just wasting time at this point, keeping the ball away from Spain.

It's when the Matildas manage a third dangerous breakthrough in twenty minutes that you manage to get into the box, awaiting delivery from Steph, standing beside Cata Coll in hopes to steal the ball.

What your keen eyes don't see is the challenge that Bonmati makes when you go up for the ball.

Her shoulder digs into your waist, and you're sent away from the ball midair. Coll catches the ball in her gloves, and that's the last thing you notice before a searing white pain rocks your head as you collide with the metal goalpost and a fast fading black takes over.

Caitlin nearly loses her mind from her position just a few feet behind you, having seen Bonmati make the challenge. In fact, she's so mad as she turns to the ref that she almost doesn't see your body hit the turf like a sack of rocks, unmoving.

It takes the umpire merely seconds to notice your crumpled form before blowing the whistle furiously, signalling the medics onto the field.

A silence hushes over the crowd, a feat of magnitude, especially amongst the majority Australian audience.

When Caitlin turns fully to you after the fall, her face pales, there's blood trickling down your temple, which is just barely visible under the mess of hair, and your arms splayed out in front of you. There's a lot of it, too.

Both her and Sam fly over to you, panic stricken looks. The medics finally get to you, shoving both players away from your head.

Sam's hand rests on your stomach, eyes flicking over your closed eye stone cold expression.

"Hey, kiddo, come on, time to get up now. Like you always do."

The Australian captain can barely breathe as she watches the medics frantic hands try to stabilise you.

Caitlin shoves her way back beside you again, letting the medics try to stop the bleeding, your hand held tightly in hers.

"C'mon baby, you can wake up, please..."

There's a desperation in her voice that makes tears spring to Sam's eyes as she kneels on the other side of you.

It only gets worse as they signal for a stretcher and for an ambulance.

Tony stands on the sideline, pacing back and forth frantically with his hands on the back of his head.

Everything's moving so fast, Caitlin doesn't even realise she's left the field with you, signalling for a sub from the coach without thought.

The rest of the players on the pitch are all shock ridden. Play doesn't continue. A few players have to take moments to process what the hell just happened.

At that point, the players all concede that the game can end a few minutes early and the referee blows the whistle for full time, declaring an end to the game as the crowd, allbeit hesitantly, celebrates.

Bonmati looks like she wants to throw up, guilt stricken as she moves off the pitch as well to sit. She'd been your teammate once. You'd been close friends, and she'd gone and done that in a game.

The rest of the Aussies are silent, unable to formulate words or actions as they watched you get carried off frantically.

One question silently radiates in each of their minds. "Will she be okay?"

---------

The moment the ambulance arrives, you're on a gurney and lifted into the vehicle, Caitlin right beside you, telling the paramedics she's going with you.

Her hand is still clasped in yours. Tears are welling up in her eyes, and her knee bounces on her seat as the paramedic bandages your head, which is now also in a neck brace.

You were out completely, and there was no sign of life other than your slow and unsteady heart beat. It made the blood in her body run cold. She could only squeeze your hand to reassure herself as the ambulance screamed down the highway.

As soon as you're in the hospital, she's pushed to the side and told to wait as you're wheeled into the ED. Her hands run over her face as she takes a seat, and a nurse hands her a patient sign in form to fill out while she waits.

She can hardly focus on filling it out, though. Everything in her body is tensed, and her heart is racing as she shakily fills everything in.

Thoughts are firing through her mind.

Will you be okay? How much blood had you lost?

There was so much blood.

You were so still on that pitch.

She swallows as she writes on the clipboard, hands still trembling as she hands the board back to the front desk.

She carefully rubs at her own bandaged head, knowing she'd need to be seen herself soon to make sure there's no residual concussion and she tucks back the loose hair.

It takes an hour or so, of her pacing, unable to sit still while waiting before a nurse comes to find her, letting her know you've gone into surgery and you should be out in a few hours and that she recommends having someone to come wait with her while they contact your family.

"She doesn't have anyone, not here, at least. I'm her listed emergency contact."

After providing an ID, the nurse nods and tells her to let whoever she needs to tell know about your condition. She also tells her it could be tomorrow yet before she'll be let in to see her, but there's a small chance she'll be let in early.

She calls Tony first, telling him you're in surgery and asks if Sam had left yet. Sam was like an older sister to you, so it wouldn't surprise her if she'd left the stadium early.

Fifa had suspended the award ceremony until further notice. The winner wasn't something they could crown right now, not after the abrupt end to the game and also not with the winning team not even being there for it, they'd all left immediately to go to the hospital.

There'd been tears amongst the fans, having witnessed one of their own go down like that on the field.

The team had been forceful in finding rides to the hospital, which they found out which one from the medics after being cornered.

---------

The doors to the emergency room fly open as Sam, Steph, Alanna, and Mackenzie all fly in, looking around for the forward, who signals to them as she sits around the corner.

"Oh god, Cait, how is she? Have they said anything yet?"

She shakes her head.

"She's in surgery, but it'll be a few hours before we can even go see her. They haven't said anything about her condition yet, though. Could be a while before we can see her"

She rests her head in her hands, leaning her head on her knees. Sam moves to sit beside the girl, hand resting on Caitlin's back, running her other through her own hair.

"She'll be okay, Cait."

Alanna moves to stand in front of the winger, hands resting on her shoulders. There's tears flowing down her cheeks when she looks up, and the defender quickly wraps her up in a hug.

"Hey, she'll be alright, she's in good hands, she always comes back to us. She's got a hard head." The last part is said mildly jokingly, and Caitlin manages a huff of a laugh, but it doesn't completely calm her.

There's silence for a few moments as they all sit and wait.

"She was just so still, god, she's never been that still, not even in her sleep."

A silent moment of agreement passes over the five of them.

It was true. You tended to be a bit of a sleepwalker, as well as tossing and turning every hour or so. Luckily, Caitlin has always been a deep sleeper, practically dead to the world.

Dead.

It's not something she wants to think about right now.

But the thought still crosses her mind. She can't get the image of you bleeding profusely out of her head.

That's when she looks down at her hands properly. There was blood soaked into the beds of her fingernails, and there was a large stain at the bottom of her jersey. Apparently, it got a little messy when she'd turned you over onto your back.

Another thought crosses her mind. Why the hell did she turn you over? It's the number one rule of first aid to never move someone with a head injury without proper support. It was in case the injured person had a neck injury, so they didn't make it worse.

Suddenly, she'd forgotten all of her emergency first aid training in her panic to get to you. What if she'd made the injury worse?

What if-

She's cut off by Steph crouching in front of her, a bag in her hands. When had she gotten that?

"Hey, Tony dropped this off and told us to keep him updated. I messaged him. Figured you might want to change as well as the rest of us."

Caitlin looks down at the clean white shirts and sweats that most of them are now donning. The look on Steph's face is knowing, obviously having spotted her predicament too.

She looks at the clock above them on the wall.

It was about one in the morning. The other's had drifted off in their chairs, exhausted from the previous days events. She felt a little sorry for their spines.

She nods at Steph, grabbing the duffle bag. She hadn't even noticed they'd all gotten up to get changed at all.

"Thanks."

Not that she could eat right now. The nausea was settled deep into her gut, and she didn't think she could keep anything down if she'd tried.

Steph nods back, hand caressing the side of her arm.

She moves to go to the bathroom in the waiting room. Stripping down, she swaps out the clothing, thankful for the staff having given them fresh clothing entirely with some deodorant and what looks to be a few protein bars, a water bottle, and some small bags of lollies.

After changing, she moves to the sink that's settled outside the bathroom to try and wash her hands.

Without even realising it, she drifts off in her head, back to you, head facing the sky, limp in her arms as she holds you. She'd felt so helpless, watching you get checked over by the medics. In her head, she looks down at her own blood-soaked hands.

She'd given them a contemporary rinse earlier, but there was still lingering red in the creases.

Another pair of hands steadying her own over the sink breaks her out of it. She hadn't even realised she'd been standing there for way too long, scrubbing harshly at her digits. They were starting to turn their own shade of red under the harsh ministrations, and there were tears running down her cheeks.

Steph gently pulls her hands away from the faucet, turning the tap off. The blood was visibly gone, having disappeared within the first few seconds of washing, but it was like it was still there in her head.

Paper towels dry away the water, which was running as clear as ever despite the images that were playing over and over.

There's a concerned look in her eyes.

"Hey, look at me."

Caitlin can't bring her neck to lift her gaze up again.

"Look at me, Caitlin."

She lets out a shaky breath, still refusing to meet her eye.

Fingers on her chin tilt her head up. She meets her gaze, and there are still unshed tears in the striker's eyes.

"What's going on? Talk to me."

"I..." She's shaking now.

The tears start to flow and fast.

"I just can't get it out, I can't stop seeing it. Over and over. Watching her collide with the bloody post, she just crumpled. And then just. The. Blood."

She's cut off by own silent sob as Steph pulls her into her body tightly, Caitlin's arms wrapping around her friends neck in an attempt to muffle the noise so as to not wake the others.

"It was fucking everywhere. Steph, I'm so fucking scared."

Her sobs are heavier but small enough to let the words fall from her mouth.

"There was so much of it."

The defender feels helpless here. She wasn't sure what could comfort her Arsenal teammate at this point. She'd seen the same thing. You were her buddy, her confidant, her best mate. Seeing you collapse like that was terrifying in its own right.

"I know, Cait, I know. She's gonna be okay, alright? I know it's hard, but I need you to believe that for me, for the rest of them. It's okay to feel like this, but you need to believe she's gonna be okay. Be strong for her. Believe for Y/n."

Her hands rub soothingly over Caitlin's back, her voice a quiet whisper amongst her soft cries.

A few minutes pass of them both standing there, Caitlin eventually managing to calm herself enough.

Her breathing evens out, and exhaustion starts to show itself, her weight starting to lean on Steph a little more.

"You wanna try and get some sleep? I'll wake you if one of the nurses comes back."

She huffs a little laugh.

"Sorry, yeah, we should probably try and rest a little. Eugh, sorry, your shirt's all gross again."

Steph just huffs a laugh of her own.

"Don't be silly. My duty as your best woman is to sacrifice my clothing to be covered in tears and snot when it comes down to it."

Caitlin cringes, shoving her shoulder lightly with a chuckle.

"You're so gross."

A cheeky smirk crosses Steph's lips.

"You love me."

Caitlin bumps shoulders with her as they walk back to their seats.

"I wonder why."

A playful gasp leaves the defender as she settles in next to her.

"Rude."

Caitlin just smiles gently, settling into her own seat, head lulling back as her eyes drift shut.

---------

Caitlin's jolted awake by a soft hand on her shoulder. She panics for a moment until she realises it's just Steph and Sam, awake on either side of her. One glance at the clock tells her it's about 4am.

"Hey, sleepyhead. They're moving her to the ICU now, we've asked for a private room for her and some seats so we can stay with her. They're gonna let us in in about an hour or so. They said there'd be a doctor to come in and brief us in the morning. She's gonna be okay."

The other two are still dead asleep, Alanna now laying across Mackenzie's lap, the goalkeeper's head propped up against a watercooler beside the seats.

She nods, now wide awake at the prospect of seeing you and in utter relief from hearing the words come from Sam's mouth.

Her muscles protest at her moving to stand to stretch them out, a yawn leaving her as she looks around at the now almost empty emergency room.

She was grateful the staff hadn't told them to leave for taking up valuable space in the waiting room.

"Have they said how long until she wakes up?"

Her face falls slightly as she receives a head shake in the negative.

"They said they put her in an induced coma. The doctor will tell us more in the morning."

Caitlin swallows slightly, nodding, and takes a deep breath.

You'll be okay. You're gonna be fine. It's just protocol, making sure you're healing. She'll see you soon.

She sits down again, resting her still tired legs. She looks around the girls, feeling a little guilty that they're all stuck sleeping uncomfortably.

But she knows better than to ask them if they want to go back to the hotel. She'd probably get slapped for it, too.

---------

It's about 8 a.m., that she's awoken again, the nurse moving around the room quietly, checking your vitals, changing the bags on the IV drip.

The others are fully passed out in their chairs now. Except for Sam, who's not in the room.

The nurse gives her a sympathetic smile when she sees she's awake.

"The doctor should be about another ten minutes with the results."

"Thanks."

The nurse nods and cleans up before exiting the room. Sam returns not long after that.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Nurse says the doc'll be about another ten. Should we wake the girls up?"

"Let Steph sleep a little longer. She was up the whole time. The other two can bloody wake up, though."

Caitlin has to muffle a laugh.

"Let em sleep. We all played the same game."

"Exactly."

She shakes her head at the striker, giving her a playful nudge. She knows she's only joking. The skipper isn't totally cruel.

Right on time, the doctor steps in the door ten minutes later.

"Friends and Family for Miss L/n?"

Caitlin perks up immediately.

"Yes."

He's carrying a clipboard with a stack of about ten pages on it.

"So, we've got some good news. She's in a stable condition. We managed to patch the bleeding. Her skull suffered a major breakage, and it put a little pressure on her brain, but we've put it back together with some glue and a few staples, so she's all clear in the physical department. There were no neck injuries, so she won't need surgery or therapy for that either. But, saying that, we do have a little bad news. Nothing major, though, but she may be a little more out of it than most if we wake her up too early. We want the surgery to heal a bit more before we try and pull her out of the coma. She suffered a massive brain contusion, and we want to wait for the swelling to go down a little more. There's a chance there may be some memory loss, particularly of the incident itself and of the time surrounding it, but we won't know the full extent for a bit until we can wake her up."

They both nod along, Caitlin's relieved that you aren't in major danger at the moment.

"Given that, the next twenty-four to fourty-eight hours are critical. She's still at risk of further injury due to the swelling so we'll keep a close eye on her, it's best not to disturb her too much but as long as you keep it relatively quiet, she should be alright. It could be a couple of weeks before we can safely wake her up, so keep that in mind."

"Okay." It comes out as a soft breath.

"Do you understand all of that? Do you have any questions for me?"

"Will she be okay?" It comes out as a meek whisper, but he does hear it. He gives a soft, empathetic smile.

"We don't know yet. But we'll do our best to make sure she has the best chance at recovering. Until then, you can trust us to do what we can."

Caitlin nods and looks at Sam, who's still processing his words.

"Does she have any family we need to notify?"

"Uh, no, parents died years ago, and she doesn't have any siblings or aunts or uncles that we know about."

"Alright, thank you for telling us. I'll be back in about 10 or so hours to check back in. In the meantime, I suggest you and your friends go home and find some rest. It'll be a while before we can update you any further."

She nods slowly.

She knows they won't want to leave. Not with you still in the ICU. Judging by the look on Sam's face, she's right.

The other three are still asleep, having exhausted themselves into sleeping longer than they normally would. Though, judging by the bags under Steph's eyes, she hasn't been asleep too long.

Still, she walks over to the defender, nudging her knee gently, and the girl rouses with a soft groan.

"Hey, Stephy, the doctor just stopped by."

Steph shoots up, now wide awake.

"Oh, shit. What did they say?"

"He says she's gonna be alright, as far as they can tell."

She sits in the chair next to her, rubbing her hands together.

"But..."

"But.." the defender prompts.

"She suffered a massive brain contusion, and some of her skull was crushed in the hit. They won't wake her for a couple of weeks in order to let the swelling go down and that she's on watch for the next few days in case it may get worse. He said she may have some memory issues, especially around the accident itself, but could also affect the time around the day too. He said they weren't sure, but it could be better, it could be worse, and they won't find out until she's awake."

Steph nods along as she talks, relief finding her features for a fleeting second.

"He also recommended we all head back to the hotel to get some rest since he won't be back to update us for another ten hours, at least."

She can see the hesitation on the defenders face, and she doesn't blame her.

"I know, I don't want to leave her either, but.." Caitlin gestures to Mackenzie and Alanna, who are practically sleeping on top of each other at this point.

"But we need it. We still have to do recovery, and I have to go see the med staff, too. I'd be lucky not to be concussed myself."

Steph's face falls at that.

"Shit, Cait, we should've done that sooner. And to think I let you sleep and-"

Caitlin quickly waves her off.

"It's alright, I'm fine, clearly, it's just a precaution. We can all head back, get showered, and sleep a little bit. Maybe find something to eat. I don't know if I'm gonna have the appetite, but we need to eat something. And do some recovery stuff as well, we did still play a full ninety yesterday. I'll drive us all back over if you guys want, but you guys need to sleep, especially you. You stayed up the longest out of all of us."

She sighs softly, and she hears Sam agree from behind her.

"Yeah, we need to head back, I'm definitely coming back later with you, but we need to get checked out. All of us. We all kind of copped it last night. I hate to say it, but my calf is killing me."

With that, Steph moves to wake the two sleeping defenders, updating them on your condition, and Caitlin packs up their stuff, notifying staff they'll be back later.

Mackenzie and Alanna both protest mildly at leaving you but are convinced to at least go back to the hotel for some much needed recovery. They'd be back soon.

Caitlin can only hope everything goes smoothly over the next weeks or so.

---------

Everything goes as smoothly as it can. It's just two weeks later when the doctor finally tells her he's going to wean you off the anaesthetic and wake you up, hoping you'll stay stable enough to be up and functioning.

They'd all used their time off to visit you. Most of the team had stopped by at some point. Steph, Caitlin, and Sam were all consistent in their visits, though. The other's had to return to their clubs for duties but asked that they be kept in the loop. Katrina, Courtnee, and Tameka are the ones who stayed to keep visiting. Katrina because she has plenty of time before Vjatsko wants her back and Courtnee and Tameka don't play for a while yet.

Sam, the cheeky shit, refused to even message Emma Hayes back about when she'd be returning at first, eventually telling her she needed the time off, and Steph and Caitlin told Jonas Eidevall that they couldn't return without you awake and functioning with them. To which he'd completely understood and told them to update him on how you were too and when things turned better.

The other two, Mackenzie and Alanna, both put in with their clubs as well to stay. Mackenzie had her back up keeper, and Alanna was injured anyway, happy to find a rehabilitation centre to work with while she stayed.

The arsenal girls all stopped by at some point just after the World Cup ended. Including Beth and Viv, who'd flown over to see you. They did have to return after a few days, right before you were due to be woken up. Leah stayed the longest out of them all, though. Her recovery still wasn't fully ready for field time and probably wouldn't be for a couple of months yet, so Jonas was the most lenient with her.

So, Leah, Caitlin, Steph, Sam, Mackenzie, and Alanna all stuck with you for most of your unconscious stage.

They were all sitting outside the room, waiting for the okay from the doctor, Caitlin being the only one who was allowed to stay with you.

Her hand was clasped in yours, eyes locked on your unconscious form, hoping for any sign, twitch, or movement that meant you were waking up.

It takes about twenty minutes or so. When she's looking down at her phone, scrolling through instagram for updates on the outside world, considering she hadn't really been keeping up with anything but you and the Arsenal team.

The overwhelming support from the fans had made her tear up at one point. The Matildas media had been updating them slowly. Keeping things vague but letting them know you were okay and would update them when you were awake.

She's reading a post from the Spanish Federation about the coach being fired when she feels it.

Your hand squeezes hers softly. It's subtle, but she shoves her phone away immediately.

"Y/n?"

It's a soft whisper, so not as to startle you and not too loud to alert the girls if you weren't awake yet.

There's a soft groan that leaves your lips as your eyes crack open slowly. The gunk that'd accumulated there annoyed you to no end, and you reached up to wipe it away lazily.

Everything feels fuzzy as you come to, blearily looking around at the far too white walls of the hospital room. When you go to move your other hand, you find it's being held by one you recognize immediately.

"Babe, why does everything hurt? And why am I strapped to a bed?" Your voice cracks every so often, and your mouth feels so dry. It could be considered a desert.

Her relieved laugh startles you a little.

"Hey, Baby, take it easy, don't move around too much. You don't want to jostle your head at all, I'm gonna call in the doctor, and we can go from there, okay?"

You're confused but when she goes to stand, you grip her hand tighter.

"Please don't go."

Your words make her heart break a little and tears well up in her eyes.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I just need to get the doctor, and I'll be back before you know it." With that, she presses a small kiss to the outside of the bandage. You can see the remnants of a purple mark over her eye, too. When had that happened?

Why couldn't you remember anything happening that would land you here?

That's when it hits you. The final. Had you even played it? Oh god, what if you'd missed it?

The moment she comes back in the room, you bombard her with questions that she just tells you to calm a bit with and that she'll answer soon enough.

"Hello, Miss L/n. Nice see you awake, we'll get you some water in a bit, see how you hold down food, and we'll go from there. For now, we'll get into why you're here. I'm under the impression you don't remember that?"

You try to strain to remember something, but nothing comes up, and your head only hurts a little more because of it.

"I... no, nothing."

"Okay, that's okay, that was to be expected. You took quite the nasty hit. You've been in a coma for two weeks. You hit your head on a metal post, and it's given you a heavy brain contusion and most likely a little memory loss. I trust your partner can explain the details a bit better if you wish to know. But basically, we've had you on full bed rest and want to continue so over the next couple of months. It could take months to fully heal, and we don't want to risk further brain injury."

Oh. Had you... did you get injured playing?

You ask as such, head turning to your girlfriend, who's sat quietly, hand still holding yours. The doctor steps out to let you both talk and also notify the other's outside you were awake and they could see you after some further assessment.

She seems hesitant, and you can see she's fighting back tears a little.

"You uh. You got shoved into the goalpost midair. I doubt it was intentional, but you just hit the ground like a sack of rocks. Sam and I both flew over to you as soon as we noticed, but jesus. It was a little bit gruesome."

She wipes away stray tears with her other hand.

"Was that the final?"

She nods.

"Did we win at least?"

She laughs at that and you smile. Mission accomplished.

"You're in the hospital after having nearly died, and that's your first thought. Oh my god, you're such a dork."

She eventually nods, though.

"Yes, we won, but the game was called off with five minutes of reg time to go. Nobody wanted to play after seeing that. Poor Bonmati, I don't think she'll recover after that one."

Aitana? Was she the one that made the challenge?

It starts to come back to you in pieces. You remember the crowd. The roughness. Faintly, though.

"Has she tried to call at all? Was she the one to push me?"

Caitlin swallows. She knows the midfielder never meant to hurt you, especially considering you were friends, but she can't help the minor twinge of anger that swells up in her chest. Which you seem to sense because you just squeeze her hand softly.

"Yes, she did push you, I know it wasn't intentional, though. She's probably feeling terrible. Barca wanted her back straight away after the final recovery period, so she couldn't stay if she wanted to. She did message me to apologise and said if you wanted to call her at some point when you recovered, she'd be all too happy to grovel over the phone to you instead."

You smile softly.

"I hate that she's feeling guilty about it, but I'll let her apologise. She probably needs the closure, if anything."

She nods in agreement.

"What about the others? I assume they've gone back to their clubs?

She chuckles.

"You underestimate their stubbornness. They all refused to return to club duties. Most of them fought their clubs for a few days but eventually did go home again. The Arsenal girl's on the lionesses and swedish sides came to see you. Most of them left. Beth and Viv flew over for a bit. Mainly to mother Steph and myself, making sure we were eating."

You chuckle, of course they did.

"Leah's stayed for the whole time, though. Well, most of it. So, I've got Leah, Steph, Sammy, Macca, and Lans all waiting outside at the moment."

"Oh god, you guys have club duties, though."

You pout softly.

"It's alright, Jonas was the one to tell us to stay until we could bring you back with us fully fit to start recovery. Of course, we were going to stay anyway, but he's adamant he doesn't want us back without you, babe."

You smile, looking down at your lap, but then flick back up to her.

"What about Sammy? I know Emma would be pissed if she didn't go back to start recovery after..."

Caitlin looms at you. Do you remember what happened that game?

"Her calf injury, do you.. remember that?"

"I remember it happened, maybe not it happening so much as that it just happened."

She nods in understanding.

"Sam refused to message Emma back about whether or not she'd be returning. It took a week for her to say she wasn't until you were better."

You shake your head. Sam's really stubborn at times. Now, being one of them, apparently.

"Can they come in yet?"

"Not til the doctor looks at you a bit more. He doesn't want you getting too overwhelmed."

You huff softly.

She smiles and moves to invite the doctor back in, who's now prepared the tests.

After about an hour or so, he's satisfied you're doing alright and allows the girls to come in.

Steph and Sam are the first ones at your side.

They both nearly smother you in kisses and hugs, but after a throat clear and a scolding tone from both Leah and Caitlin, they calm a bit.

Mackenzie and Alanna stand either side by your legs, hands resting there, and Leah stands at the foot of the bed, hand resting on your ankle.

Caitlin is in the chair by your head, hand still holding yours.

It's in that moment, as you chat with all of them, they shed some tears, a few laughs and quiet chatter, that you realise how loved you really are.

And also how much you hate nearly dying. Given all of their tearful reactions and Caitlin's faraway look, you know it was bad. Really bad.

And you'd all spend the time dealing with it slowly, healing mentally and emotionally.

Particularly you and Caitlin. Caitlin was still dealing with the thoughts of seeing you broken like that. Steph and Sam were too, but they managed in their own ways. You were grateful they had people to help them that loved them as much as Caitlin loved you.

It's not an easy journey. The nights are rough, and once you're out of hospital, you get more and more restless, wanting to return home desperately, and you're only allowed to fly after six months. Caitlin stays with you the whole time. Steph flies back and forth with Leah. Sam tries to stay but knows she has a duty to Chelsea and the rest of the Matildas team.

You both drive out to Perth to see the girls play in the qualifiers. Caitlin does get the call up to play. And the looming olympics frustrate you as you know you won't be called up to the squad for it, but you're just happy to return to England once your doctor clears you for flight.

Your recovery period in England is a little frustrating again. Jonas won't let you take the field until you're one hundred percent ready for a full game, not wanting to risk any further incidents. Caitlin is fully inclined to agree with him, too.

You do get in touch with Aitana, she flys over from Barcelona on her off long weekend. She does apologise to you, but you just smack her shoulder, hug her, and tell her never to apologise again.

In the time it takes to recover, Caitlin sticks by you the whole time, kissing you silly every time you even question whether or not you'll be able to return, reasurring you that you're one of the strongest people she knows, and that if she'd been allowed to, you would've copped a slap upside the head for it as well.

You chuckle at that, kiss her back, and thank her for being there. For all of it. She just kisses you again.

You'll never forget the crowds applause to you as you take the field in the gold medal match against England. It's your first ever start since the World Cup final. And it surprised the fuck out of you when you did get called up. It brings tears to your eyes as you run on for the warmups, the crowd whistling, screaming, and cheering as you look back on what is now just a scarred memory.

And when you celebrate winning again, this time, being able to fully celebrate, you make sure to hold your fiancee a little tighter, knowing what you all had to go through to get here.

Caitlin just kisses your head and whispers in your ear.

"I'm not going anywhere, Baby. You're stuck with me forever."

You just kiss her in response.

---------

[gnostiquette]

the satan: oh foolish mortal...i greet you, to reveal your desires unto you! me: ok hey what's up the satan: i have decided to test you, to-day, to discern your commitment to The Good me: sounds great! so, do i have to reject a kingdom of glory and riches or refuse to jump off a building and make God save me or— the satan: oh no none of that. this'll be much simpler. i am going to present you with a series of ethical situations! ahahaha! me: oh sweet i think about these all the time the satan: perfect...it is time for The First Situation! now, picture a city that is so perfect, everyone is happy and no one is ever sad and there's cakes and festivals and orgies and— me: is this Omelas the satan: me: like this is just gonna be the Le Guin story with the kid in the basement right the satan: ...yeah. ok so there's the kid and the basement and there's the torture, ok yeah you know this one. right. so anyway...you have just learned about the kid being tortured in the basement. what is your judgement here? me: well uh, i guess i walk away the satan: aha but i didn't ask you what you'd do, did i? me: oh come on you tricky little fuck. ok. yeah this situation sucks the satan: and why, pray tell, do you say that is, despite all the happiness and nonsadness and cakes and festivals and orgies and whatnot? me: i suppose it's just that none of that shit justifies torturing a kid in a basement forever. also all that shit sounds kinda gay when you put it like that. like some weird Dutch fag shit the satan: ah. well, moving on, you whimsy-hating homophobe— me: what, just because i say that sounds like Dutch fag shit makes me homophobic? i'm gay you know i can call shit fag shit if i want the satan: —moving on, you would agree with the statement that whatever the consequence, it is inherently wrong to torture a child, hmm? me: well yeah that sounds about right the satan: aha...! me: wait why'd you make that noise the satan: wh-what me: that clicking noise. that was you right the satan: oh no no noise of things clicking into place emanated from my nostrils me: you worded that pretty weirdly, you know the satan: it's time for The Second Situation! you have cro— me: damn you just straight up evaded what i was saying the satan: —you have crossed The First Situation, i was saying, so now it is time for round two. ahem. now, firstly, would you agree that, in general, lying and stealing and cheating are bad? me: well, yeah. i don't like lying, and in general it seems pretty fucked up to cheat and steal the satan: so now you have come across a man in the street who is starving and wounded. after one hour he will die if he is not fed and treated for his wound. there is a store nearby but you are flat broke and have no pocket money, and begging isn't an option. even if you ask your friends to PayPal you they will not be able to get back to you for another two hours. the ER is too far away and there's too much traffic for an ambulance to arrive and take him there in less than an hour and a half, but there is a clinic nearby able to take anyone immediately. however the clinic only accepts people with insurance, and neither of you have an insurance card. you are, however, fairly confident that you can make up fake details that they would be willing to accept. me: what are you trying to write a Jacobin article or something. i'm already a socialist, you don't need to lay out how fucked up our healthcare system or whatnot is, i already know— the satan: okok sure this would never happen under socialism blahblahblah the point is what would you do in this situation me: but in the last one the point was my judgement not what i do. this is getting confusing the satan: DIFFERENT SITUATIONS HAVE DIFFERENT RULES OK?? GOD JUST LEAVE IT AT THAT FOR NOW God: OH HEY SATAN DID YOU JUST CALL UPON ME the satan: HOLD ON I'M STILL TESTING THIS GUY GIVE ME A SECOND God: OH OK THAT'S YOUR JOB AFTER ALL. I SHALL LEAVE YOU TO IT. JUST DON'T BE TOO MEAN

the satan: FUCK. ok. ok. anyway here's the question. assuming you're also relatively confident you can shoplift without getting caught, do you steal a couple things from the store for the man to eat and do you present fake information to the clinic to get them to accept the guy and treat his wound me: yeah totally. i don't want him to die or anything. i'd gladly do just about anything to save someone's life the satan: so in other words, doing bad things like lying, stealing, and cheating in order to accomplish a good thing such as saving a life is good, right? me: sure, i'd say so the satan: AAAAAHH-HAA! i have TRAPPED you! for your response to the first situation implies that good inheres in the act itself, regardless of consequences, and your response to the second implies that good inheres in the consequences of an act, regardless of the means!

me: i mean...not necessarily? like— the satan: wh-what do you mean, mortal me: well, perhaps i think the negative consequences of torture for the child far outweigh the positive consequences for everyone else the satan: what the fuck is that you're doing me: oh i mean you're doing red text, i figure i do blue text, i figure this is like an Umineko thing or whatever the satan: fine. sure. you can do that. whatever. none of this matters to me. why did i pick this fucking job in the first place me: the satan: ...ok, the townspeople get far more happiness than the kid gets suffering me: but what if suffering itself is worth more in moral accounting than happiness, for instance the satan: then how about this? in the second example, you could have caused the shop to shut down due to lost trust with the distributor! you could have caused the clinic to lose their licence over insurance fraud! those could have easily caused far more suffering than if the man simply passed out and died after an hour! me: that's...that sounds far-fetched, but you said it in red, so. ok what if good actually inheres in the character of the person doing the act, so a virtuous person would refuse to sanction torturing a child for the greater good and gladly steal and cheat to save a man's life the satan: virtue ethics is unable to provide actionable guidance! me: oh? the satan: all you can do is imagine what a virtuous person would do, and different people have wildly different imaginations! me: well hmm. that's fair. i'm not sure i could personally live with that, especially in an age where we're getting ever closer to potentially misaligned AI. what if there's rules that say you must never do some things but then other rules can be broken if there's something more important the satan: if those rules exist, then list them off and justify them to me >: ) me: uh, don't torture, don't rape...don't kill is up there, but what if you're killing someone to defend someone else...wait fuck no, what about bombing civilians to end a war, that doesn't sound justifiable at all...god damn it... God: OH HELLO YES I'M BACK the satan: NO FUCK NO WAIT NO God: HELLO DEAR SWEET MORTAL CHILD. IS MY EMPLOYEE BEING TOO HARD ON YOU? OH DEAR I CAN GIVE YOU AN ANSWER IF THIS IS GOING TOO POORLY the satan: oh come on please just let me do my job like normal God: MY DEAR LITTLE CREATURE I HOPE YOU KNOW YOU CAN SIMPLY RELY ON MY EDICT AND ALL THESE DILEMMAS BECOME AS DUST IN THE BROOM OF AN OLD FAT LADY me: why thank you, my Lord, but no matter how perfect You are, it remains that divine command theory is a fundamentally subjectivist theory that cannot provide a truly objective and impersonal basis for ethics, and subjective morality is not a risk i'm really willing to take God: BUT AREN'T I PERFECT FOR YOU AND ALL THINGS MY PRECIOUS LITTLE CREATION me: why, yes, but there's a small but persistent chance You're a figment of my imagination, just like the satan over here, and— the satan: hhHHEYYY NOW me: —and i know that You love righteousness, so really i'd rather continue pleasing You even if You weren't around to tell me what righteousness is God: WHY THAT IS VERY SWEET OF YOU. YOU KNOW WHAT I'M JUST GOING TO STRAIGHT UP LIFT YOU TO HEAVEN LIKE THAT MERRY OLD FELLOW FAUST me: wait huh the satan: w-wait Lord don't you think you're being a bit hasty in judgement a chorus of angels: [grabbing me and lifting me into the aether] ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*HE WHO STRIVES ON AND LIVES TO STRIVE CAN EARN REDEMPTION STILL*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ me: [rapidly disappearing into the sky, utterly bewildered] wait. hold on. hold up. wait,

[book-place]

Accidents Happen

Warnings: hospitals, mentions of injuries, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Avengers x reader platonic

Request: Hi hi! Can you please do a avengers x little reader? R is 6 and maybe Natasha or peter drop her off at school but a few hours after school starts they get a call saying she had an accident and got injured badly. So the whole team shows up at the school to rush her to the Emergency room and the person who dropped R off feels really guilty but the R tells them it wasn't their fault (also could R be wise for her age?) Anyways thanks feel free to ignore this or change some things thank you!

Request by: Anon

*not my gif*

Summary: Nat blames herself for the accident you had at school that causes the entire team to rush to the hospital

A/N: I loved writing this

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Thank you, Nattie!” You called, scrambling out of the backseat and sending a wide, toothy grin to the redhead.

Natasha smiled at you fondly, “You’re welcome, n/n, have a good day.”

You closed the car door and turned on your heels hurrying towards the entrance, excited for school to start. The woman couldn’t help but chuckle, you’re the only kid she’s ever met that’s been happy to go learn, especially at six years old.

She watched from the car until the entrance door swung shut softly behind you before she put the car into drive once more and set off to begin her no doubt long day, though a soft smile still lingered on her lips from her interaction with you.

-•-

“Where the hell is she?”

“What’s going on?”

“Do you know who I am? I could have you fired with the snap of my fingers!”

“This place is full of so many puny humans, and yet not a single one of them is giving me a straight answer!”

The outraged roars of Earth’s mightiests heroes might not have been what anyone in the hospital was expecting in the middle of the day, but to be fair- they were beyond stressed and concerned. They had no idea what was going on, not really.

About fifteen minutes ago, Natasha had received a phone call from your school- her being your emergency contact- in the middle of a debrief with her teammates. The principal on the other side of the phone had been very vague as she informed the woman that she had been in an accident and was rushed in an ambulance to the nearest hospital, all but hanging up before Romanoff could fire off any one of the thousands of questions racing through her mind.

Chaos had followed that phone call, the avengers all scrambling around, trying to get to the hospital as quickly as possible with no real direction as to what was going on.

So now, they stood in the lobby, anger and worry etched onto each of their faces respectively as they swung around in circles, demanding answers from any of the many people working there.

Bucky and Thor both looked seconds away from lunging towards the closest doctor and shaking them until they gave them an explanation and to point them in your direction.

Tony was sneering at every person that passed, trying to intimidate them while Steve tried to ask questions as calmly as he could. Clint looked seconds away from diving through the doors dedicated to doctors only.

The only one that was silent was Natasha. She stood in the middle of the chaos with her arms pulled around her stomach, face paler than normal and looking as though she might be sick.

She had dropped you off this morning. She had been the one to leave you at that school without a second thought. How could she not realize that something would go wrong? She always had a sixth about that kind of stuff.

And now, because of her lack of realization, you were somewhere in this vast building, lying in a hospital bed, all alone- probably scared. And she didn’t even know if you were alright.

“Miss. Romanoff?”

The voice automatically silenced all of the avengers and they all whipped in the direction of it.

The doctor who spoke, to her credit, didn’t look the least bit intimidated at being stared down by the people, instead glanced down at her clipboard, “You’re here to see Y/n L/n, correct?”

Natashas head immediately bobbed up and down, moving forward, fear gripping her heart, “Is she okay?”

A sympathetic and reassuring smile appeared on the woman’s face, “She’s going to be fine,” She assured the group.

Everyone's muscles immediately loosened and Natahsa felt a shaky breath leave her lips as fear's grip loosened a bit on her heart.

“What happened?” Tony demanded, still not fully convinced.

With an incline of her head, the avengers all piled after the doctor as she led them through the workers only door, “She was in an accident at school. Apparently she had been trying to jump to the monkey bars at recess, but misjudged the distance and landed at the wrong angle on the metal pole of the jungle gym, hitting her head. She was knocked out, so the school called us. She has a concussion, but she’ll be fine in a few weeks if you take the proper precautions. We can discuss those later.”

There it was again, the fear and worry and guilt that was consuming the redheads entire being. She could tell by their reactions that her team was feeling the same.

“Right in here.” The doctor cast them one last smile before leaving them at the door of your room.

Immediately, Bucky all but threw the door open and everyone rushed in, crowding into the small room.

Natahsa pulled up short at the sight of you, lying in the hospital bed, looking smaller than normal surrounded by all the big equipment in the oversized bed.

You turned your head with wide eyes at the sound of footsteps, but relaxed into a smile when you saw who it was.

“Hi, guys,” You piped happily- as if nothing happened- but your voice was a bit weaker than normal.

“Oh, n/n,” Nat breathed out, immediately falling to your side, crouching down, grasping your hand in hers and squeezing it, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, smiling up at the woman, “I’m fine, my head just hurts.”

The woman frowned, smoothing back your hair from your forehead, “Do you need anything?”

Apparently, the team had caught onto Romanoffs feelings of guilt a while ago, because they exited the room at that moment, knowing that they should give her some space with you for a few minutes to sort through her emotions. They hated leaving you, but knew you would always be safe as long as Natasha was around.

You shook your head- slowly so as to not hurt yourself more, “I’m fine.” You promised, “I’m happy you’re all here.”

A shaky breath once again slipped from the woman's lips, “I’m so sorry,” Her eyes were welled up with tears.

It was then your turn to frown, confusion pulling your eyebrows down, “For what, Nattie?” You had no idea what she was talking about.

“If I hadn’t left you today, if I had known that something was wrong, I never would’ve left you.” A single tear slipped down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes shut and put your still intertwined hands to her forehead.

You squeezed her hand once, “It’s not your fault, Nattie, you couldn’t have known.” You were smiling kindly at her now.

“But-”

You shook your head stubbornly, a trait she often wondered if you got it from her, “It’s not your fault. It could’ve happened to anyone and there’s no way to tell if or when it’ll happen. Accidents happen.” You insisted.

A shaky huff of a laugh left her lips as she pressed a kiss to your forehead, “When did you get so wise?”

A wide grin appeared on your face, “I always have been, you’re just noticing now.”

We Are Groot 🤎- @lovanitu @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @irethepotato @femalemarvelself @mukbee @its-hell @ip747 @i-writes-things @popfishjr @mitsuki-murakami @mythixmagic @ladyagagaslefttoe @etanordoesbullsh1t @wolfmoonmusic @nutellani @hyunzrii @scarthefangirl

[zablife]

i love dark stuff so i know your plot will be right up my alley. i was thinking of a female yandere reader who’s in a relationship with thomas? something with that couple dynamic would be amazing 🩷🩷 thank you for letting me request

I Would Die For You

Tommy x yandere wife reader

“There will be more after the job is done,” you promised, sliding a thick envelope across the table. Leaning back in the darkened booth to conceal yourself, you lit a cigarette and watched your companion closely. He hesitated, not over money, but loyalty. No one crossed the Shelbys and lived to tell the tale. However, something about the authority in your voice convinced him the protection you offered could be trusted.

The man looked over his shoulder before snatching the money up in his large hand. He placed it in his pocket in one swift movement as you arched an eyebrow in his direction.

“We’re in agreement then?” you asked impatiently.

“The Shelby's charity ball next week,” he grunted, repeating the information you’d provided earlier. 

“That’s right,” you smiled with satisfaction, pushing a celebratory glass of whisky into his hand. “I’ll ensure everyone is in place so you have a clear shot. You remember what to do with the gun?”

He nodded slowly before tossing back his drink. The burn of the alcohol barely took his mind off the thought of what might become of him if he failed. With slumped shoulders he pushed away from the table, lumbering toward the door of the pub.

You sat in silence, continuing to drink and ruminate over your detailed plan. Weeks of work organizing the catering and attending dress fittings had made you anxious for this important event, now only days away. It was all leading up to the moment of vengeance you'd dreamt of for years.

———————————-

As the gong sounded for dinner, you struggled to control your thundering heartbeat. It thumped painfully against your corseted chest while you waited for Polly's face to appear amongst the wide smiles of the other guests. When she finally swept past in a confection of pink taffeta and ostrich feathers, you gave a slight nod of your head.

With the signal given, you gingerly stepped to Tommy’s side, stealing his attention with a witty joke that made his eyes crinkle with laughter.

Bright blue eyes dancing with merriment, he never saw who fired the shot that came deafening close. There was only a look of horror as chaos broke out. Guests scattered to the far corners of the ballroom leaving him alone to witness your body fall to the floor in the slow motion of a nightmare.

Crumbling to the floor with you, he held you close. Tommy struggled to regulate his breathing, unsure how he would live if you died. "Call a fucking ambulance!" Tommy yelled over his shoulder. “And find out who did this. No one leaves!” he instructed his men angrily.

"Tommy," you whimpered, slumping against him weakly. The pain in your shoulder was like a searing hot poker lodged inside your muscle. It was far greater than anything you'd anticipated, but you reminded yourself why you had to endure the pain. Appealing to your husband you mumbled, "Help me."

"I won't let anything happen to you," Tommy promised, rubbing a thumb over your cheek. He continued whispering words of comfort as he willed you to fight the darkness threatening to descend upon you. The world outside stood still as he doted on you, eyes locked on yours for any sign of change.

As John approached with a pale face and trembling hands, Tommy knew it was more than the sight of your blood that upset him. “We found the shooter,” John announced in a shaky voice.

“Well?” Tommy barked impatiently, eager to return his attention to you. 

“The coppers say it was Polly,” John muttered in disbelief.

Your gloved hand slid down Tommy’s forearm as he turned away from you, pale irises darkening with fire. His jaw clenched in rage before he spat, “Tell them to take her away."

“Wh-what are you talking about?” John stuttered as his voice raised into a shout.

“She tried to kill my wife!” Tommy bellowed in return. With that John backed away, afraid to challenge his older brother.

Tommy adjusted you in his lap as he listened to John's footsteps fading into the background. Placing a kiss to your temple he added, “I’m so sorry she tried to hurt you, my darling.”

You shook your head. “She was aiming for you when I …” you stopped short, falling back into his strong arm.

Tommy pressed a cool hand to your forehead to revive you as he finished your thought. “You saved my life,” he said in hushed awe. He smoothed your hair away from your face as he looked at you with complete adoration. “Is this what you've been trying to tell me about a traitor in the family? I should have known."

Tears began to well in your eyes with relief that everything was falling into place. As they slid down your cheeks, you proclaimed, “I would die for you.”

"I know," Tommy said, wiping them away with his fingertips. "You're the only person I can trust," he concluded. He pulled you impossibly closer and you pressed your face into his tuxedo jacket to hide your triumphant smile.

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy 

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

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@the-fangirl-diaries

@cillmequick

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@l1-l4

@runnning-outof-time

@look-at-the-soul

@peakyltd

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@brummiereader

@call-sign-shark

@holacia3

@thomashelbyswife

@dandelionprints

@gypsy-girl-08

@noforkingclue

[spiderluvbot]

𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧   ─── ​🇪​​🇹​​🇭​​🇦​​🇳​ ​🇱​​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​​🇷​​🇾​.

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, smut.

pairing(s): spiderman!ethan landry x fem!reader.

words: 2.2k

warnings: mdni, unprotected p in v (don't do that), cockwarming, mentions of blood, descriptive wounds.

author's note: based on this request.

it took me a long time to post this since it's the first smut i write and i have no idea if it's good or not but it tried my best, i surprisingly like the first part. i have a sort of prequel in mind so if anyone would like that let me know.

You could still remember the first time you helped Ethan, you had just come back from work when you got welcomed by the sight of your window broken and a trail of blood going down the wall. At the time you hadn't known it was him and expected the worst, after all, new york wasn't the safest of places. That day not only had you given your favorite superhero a concussion, you had also found out he happened to be the boy Tara had been trying to set you up with.

There wasn't much you could do at the time considering that he was passed out and you only had some rubbing alcohol and like three band-aids, but in his moments of lucidness he wouldn't let you take him to a hospital, so you made do with what you had and proceeded to buy a first aid kit the day after, just in case. By the third month of your relationship this had become usual, you spent many nights convincing your boyfriend to come to you so he wouldn't die of blood loss on someone's rooftop (or infect his wounds due to not properly taking care of them). You had even taken a course, making your friends confused as to why you were suddenly worried about knowing everything there was to know about nursing.

Now, a year after finding out his secret, it had become almost a ritual for him to visit you after a night of patrolling. Your window stayed open like every other night, the cool spring breeze coming through as you waited for him and tried not to think about the fact that he was two hours late. Your eyes kept glancing from your homework to the time displayed on your computer screen and you wondered if your little tradition would be broken today.

Dropping your pencil, you sigh and grab your phone. The leg you were mindlessly dangling seconds ago now bouncing rapidly while you questioned if you should call him, finally deciding against it because you know he won't pick up if he's patrolling, that he never takes his phone with him.

Looking outside only makes you more anxious, the sky is too dark and the lights do little to no help in illuminating the streets. Your hand stretches towards the bed and you grab his jacket —the one he complains you keep stealing but always happens to 'forget' in your house— and put it on while you make your way to the fire escape.

The sight isn't much better once you're out, if you look down you can see that the street is almost empty, only a few people wandering about.

It feels like another hour passes with you waiting for him and your fear of what could have happened gets bigger and bigger by the minute, until you feel like it will eat you from the inside.

But no sign of Ethan.

You hear the sound first, and despite your eyes getting teary you tell yourself that it could be anything, anyone, else. A few police cars appear from around the corner, followed closely by two ambulances. The loud sirens make your head pound, and the lights are blurry through your tears. It feels like a bad dream, like one of those nightmares where you're falling and wake up before you hit the ground but the impact still follows you, or like those moments when you miss a step and those few seconds of uncertainty create a void deep in you guts that swallows you hole.

Your steps resonate as you make your way back inside and pick up your phone once again and dial his number, hoping that this time he decided to listen to you and carry his phone with him, or that he picks up and tells you he forgot to visit you because he was too tired and went back home, or that at least Chad is there to tell you if he knows anything.

"You need to start locking your windows." His voice sounds different, less laid back than usual, and the brief calmness that it brings to you immediately dissipates once you turn around.

There are three large gashes on his right shoulder and another one on his chest, you can see the skin on his side turning a purplish black from where a part of his suit has been ripped off and the smell of smoke and something acrid reaches your nose the second the wind picks up again. His face isn't much better, he has a busted lip, one of his cheekbones has a deep cut and the other looks even worse than his side, there's blood staining his hair and you're pretty sure his nose is broken.

He limps to the bed and you silently enter the bathroom to get the supplies you need to help him. At this point, you don't ask what happened, you know if you do you won't get more than a 'you don't wanna know'. He keeps telling you that the less you know the safer you are, and even if you don't agree you don't say anything, the way he doesn't say anything and allows you to take care of him when he would rather go home and not keep you awake at three am every time he's hurt.

Ethan is trying to take the suit off when you come back, the fabric peels off of his body like a second skin and leaves behind dirt and blood. With the top half gone you can see the smell from before came from a burned patch of his back.

The routine follows as usual. He sits against the headboard, firm hands on your hips pull you onto his lap and you asses the damage, soft hands grazing him as lightly as the wind does and stopping once in a while to push his hair out of his face. And then, you get to work.

You take care of the bigger wounds first, thankfully he has already started healing so there is no need to stitch him. You check for broken ribs and after making sure they healed completely you move on to his face. He doesn't let you do much, you disinfect the cuts just like you always do and in the meantime, he dries your tears and sneaks a few kisses from you.

Getting up, you take his hand and pull him back to the bathroom, he takes his time cleaning himself while you get rid of the dirty cotton swabs laying around and change the sheets, and then when he gets out you both get into some clean pajamas before you make him sit again so you can put some pain reliever on his back.

He looks pensive, his eyes focused on the calm back and forth of the curtains as his back tenses at the cold wet feeling against his skin.

"You really do need to start locking your windows."

"Oh, but then I wouldn't get any special visits from my favorite superhero."

Your voices are quiet, only heard in the tiny bubble of the space you share as you try to lighten the mood.

"I'm your favorite?" He grins, starting to feel the stress of the night leave him. "You know, you don't have to do this, it'll heal in the morning."

"I know," You step in between his legs and start applying the cream to his side, which is already turning a mix between yellow and green. "But I like to help."

You turn the lights off once you're done and join him in the bed where both of you get ready to sleep. He pulls you to his chest and your eyes focus on the scar already starting to form there, his deep breaths lulling you to sleep as your finger traces small hearts around it.

You're almost asleep when the sensation of cold fingers caressing your waist sends shivers running down your spine, almost feeling like a ghost touch in your tired state. Your heavy eyelids stop you from properly looking at the hand, but you can feel it rising, slowly making its way under your top. Your lips start leaving a few lazy kisses on his jaw as he turns to lie on top of you and gets comfortable between your legs, his body weighing you down and his lips chasing yours, only separating for him to take your shirt off.

His hands grope your chest as he makes his way down, the contrast between the cold wind and the warmth of his mouth wrapping around your nipple sends shivers down your spine as his fingers pinch the other one. You can feel him getting hard against your inner thigh, his hips starting to move while his free hand toys with the elastic of your pants, teasing until your desperate hips lift from the bed to meet his and the sighs leaving you turn into whimpers.

"I've never been more grateful for super healing" You roll your eyes and let out a small giggle as he smiles before crashing his lips against yours, his mouth catching the moan that leaves you when his hand goes past your pants. His fingers tease your folds, caressing through the wet fabric of your underwear while he mouths at your throat, sucking and grazing before the flat of his tongue soothes the sensitive skin. Your knuckles turn white as you grasp the sheets and press yourself harder to him in a poor attempt to gain more friction.

Ethan decides to have mercy on you and quickly removes the rest of your clothes, his own following immediately after. Your hands push on his chest, forcing the two of you to switch places, and his fingers dig into your waist forcing you to grind your core against him.

His big brown eyes are hazed with lust, barely making you out through the dark and only focusing once you hold his face in your hands and offer him a sweet smile, catching the way you seem to shine with the moonlight. You lean down and kiss him hard, teeth clashing until you bite his lip and he welcomes your tongue as it explores his mouth.

Your hand travels down his chest and you can feel him shudder as you stroke him, his hips twitching forward once run your thumb over his tip. He stops your hand from moving, groaning as he sits and pulls you closer, guiding himself to enter you. The burn of the stretch makes you moan against his ear and his arms surround you as he waits for you to get used to him and presses open-mouthed kisses on your throat to distract you.

Slowly, you start grinding your hips against him, and the light vibration of his hums against your skin makes you clench his length. Your arms loop around his neck, the side of your head pressing to the top of his own, your hands caressing his hair while he continues to leave marks on your neck.

It's not long before his grip gets stronger, nails digging into you as he quickens the pace of your hips rolling against his, thrusting upwards and bitting down your shoulder in a poor attempt to quiet the desperate groans leaving his mouth. Your head falls back as a high-pitched gasp leaves your mouth at the feeling of his thumb circling your clit at a fast pace, the knot in your stomach getting tighter by the second.

Ethan looks up at you and the moonlight allows you to see how his dilated warm brow eyes stare timidly at you, always worried and shy, no matter how many times the two of you have been together. He tries not to close his eyes as he becomes a whimpering mess underneath you, pulling you closer to him until he can press his forehead against yours, a loud moan getting lost in the space in between as he finally comes.

You can feel him twitch inside of you, the warmth of his cum mixed with his thumb pressing harder finally pushing you over the edge. He softly rolls your hips as you ride out your orgasms, his ragged breaths mixing with your own as he shuts his eyes, chest heaving as he places the pillows against the headboard and lies down. You stop him from pulling out and lazily lay down on his chest, leaving small kisses wherever you can reach.

His hands travel back and forth through your back, stopping once in a while to comb his fingers through your hair. He leaves soft kisses on the crown of your head, smiling at how you try to muffle your laughs by pressing your face to his chest.

"I love you."

The slight sliver of sunshine creates a small halo around your head as you lift yourself to look at him and your small, tender hands hold his jaw while your fingers roam his face, grazing the places where hours ago cuts and bruises faced you.

You give him a small, tired smile and lean down, planting a kiss on his lips. "I love you too."

The two of you spend the rest of the morning in bed, watching the sun rise as you whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears, and then falling asleep as the rest of the city wakes up.

[extasiswings]

the more it heals, the worse it hurts

I’m not sorry, but I might be a little sorry.  Have some post-6x10 Eddie and Bobby in the hospital.

Bobby knows he should call Athena.  He’s dead on his feet, old ghosts circling around him and grief bearing down on his shoulders with the weight of the world.  He needs his wife.  It’s just that kind of night.    

He lasted longer than he expected though.  He’s kept the ghosts, the grief, the blood of long-scarred over wounds ripped open afresh at bay for hours, finding ways to keep busy.  Doing his job.  Calling the station to arrange coverage.  Speaking with doctors to explain what happened.  Taking care of his people—when Chim brought Maddie in, Bobby was the one to pass along the updates he’d been given from the medical staff.  When Hen needed to call Karen, Bobby found her a phone.  And Eddie—

Well.

Honestly, Bobby isn’t sure he’s done much for Eddie at all.  Not since that initial moment, pulling Eddie away, barking orders to drive the ambulance.  If he’s really honest with himself, he’s been avoiding the other man since they arrived at the hospital.  Because there is something in Eddie right now, a brittle fragility, that Bobby has seen before, that he feels himself in a different way, and he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to be what Eddie needs.  He doesn’t know if he can help without breaking himself.  At least, not without setting up a safety net first.  

He calls Athena.  

He closes his eyes.

He breathes.

He prays.

And then, he pushes himself off the wall of the stairwell he had ducked into and resolves to be Atlas for a little while longer.

He can take it.

Bobby finds Eddie at the furthest edge of the waiting room, a corner that’s a little more empty, a little more private.  He’s quite far from the Buckleys, Bobby notes absently.  

Eddie doesn’t react when Bobby settles into the chair next to him.  His gaze is fixed on the wall, but also distant, like he’s somewhere else completely, seeing something else completely.  Silence stretches between them for so long that at first Bobby almost wonders if he’s misjudged the situation, if Eddie really doesn’t want to talk after all.  But Bobby waits—patient, steady, calling on all the wealth of experience his life has brought him to keep himself composed.  And finally, Eddie cracks.

“He didn’t get to say goodbye,” Eddie says.  He doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t look at Bobby at all, but it’s something.

“What?”

Eddie’s throat works as he swallows.  His hand comes up to wipe at his mouth roughly like he’s clearing away some invisible stain.

“Christopher,” he clarifies.  “When Shannon—I was in the ambulance, I got to say goodbye, but she was gone as soon as we got to the hospital and there was nothing—”  He shakes his head, his eyes growing even more distant.  “I just had to go home and tell him she was gone.  And I’ve always felt like that was unfair, but at the same time part of me is grateful that he didn’t have to see her like that, that his last memory of her doesn’t involve a tube in her throat.”

Bobby opens his mouth, then closes it.  Waits a moment more.  Because he can see the cracks in the man in front of him, see the fraying, fraying threads, and while he’s willing to pick up the pieces, he doesn’t want to be the reason Eddie shatters.  So he waits, and lets Eddie wind his way to whatever he needs to get out.

“But…he didn’t get to say goodbye,” Eddie repeats, his voice cracking.  He squeezes his eyes shut.

Bobby’s chest aches when he draws in his next breath.  The weight on his shoulders tips precariously, threatening to crush him.  But he resets, rebalances.  

He does what he has to do.  

When he sets a hand to Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie flinches but ultimately leans into it.  After a moment, he lifts his head and finally meets Bobby’s eyes.  The look in them steals the air from Bobby’s lungs—it’s raw, agonized, wild…and familiar.  Bobby’s seen that look before, in his own eyes.  In his mirror.  For years after he lost his first wife and his children, he saw it reflected back at him every morning.  And now he’s seeing it in Eddie’s, far deeper and sharper than the last time they had been in this situation, because this time Eddie’s allowing himself to really feel everything.

For better or worse.

“I don’t know how to go home,” Eddie confesses.  “Because when I get there, I have to wake him up and tell him and bring him here.  And I can’t do that—I can’t put him through that.  But I also can’t not do it either, because if Buck—”  Another crack.  Another pause.  Another swallow.

Bobby squeezes Eddie’s shoulder.  And his heart bleeds.  

“He didn’t get to say goodbye last time.”  A whisper.  And yet somehow also a plea.  To God?  The universe?  “He deserves the chance to do that.  He deserves the option.”

“Yes, he does,” Bobby replies quietly.

“It’s not fair,” Eddie snaps, his hands coming up to rake through his hair in frustration.  “He finally moved on, he built something new, he got attached to someone else, and now—it’s not fair.”

And there it is.  The flare in Eddie’s eyes, the hitch of his voice that tells Bobby everything Eddie is trying not to say outright, provides final confirmation of the truth of all the stray thoughts Bobby has had over the years, questions that he’s kept locked away and elected not to fixate on because they weren’t his business.

Because before, they really were talking about Christopher.  But Bobby knows better than to think that’s still all they’re doing now.  

“I don’t know how to do this,” Eddie admits, and Bobby knows he’s referring to more than just going home.  “I don’t know how to do this if he doesn’t wake up.”  

And that right there is why Bobby had been avoiding this.  Because he’s not sure he knows either.  

He’s not prepared to lose another son.  

At the end of the hall, the entrance doors open.  Athena walks through.  And suddenly, the weight on Bobby’s shoulders eases.  

“You don’t have to have the answers yet,” he replies, pushing himself up from the chair.  “You just have to start somewhere.  And you don’t have to do any of it alone.”

“Come on,” he adds with his hand still firmly fixed around Eddie’s shoulder.  He nods in Athena’s direction.  “We’ll take you home.  And bring you back if you want.”

And with a heavy sigh and one last pause, Eddie allows Bobby to help him to his feet.  

This, he can do.  The rest…they can work all of that out later.      

[roses-r-rosie3]

Spooktacular Date Night

Dick Grayson x M!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Kinda rushed

Summary: Dick asks Damian to hand out candy while the reader and him are having a Halloween date night, let’s just say things don’t end up very well

Quote: “I take my job’s very seriously”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This year for Halloween, instead of handing out candy for Halloween, Dick was going to surprise you by having a Halloween themed date while you guys kept a candy bow outside. Dick’s only concern was some kids taking all the candy and leaving none for any others. But thankfully he had a solution, all he had to do was ask the solution.

“If you think I’m going to stay out there for free you’re more than wrong, I want something in return” Damian huffed when Dick asked him.

“Fine I’ll do whatever you want can you please just watch the bowl while we are having our date?” Dick asked.

“I guess so” Damian said.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you” dick exclaimed.

With that, Dick went out shopping, buying anything he thought looked cute. When Dick got home, he knew that you would still be out shopping for king sized candy bars for the kids (because you were that cool), so he he had a lot time to decorate before you got home. Dick saw your car pulling up he quickly got giddy and he couldn’t wait for you to walk through the door.

“Hey ba- oh my god, what is all of this?” You said in awe as the bags of candy bars fell off of your hands.

“Surprise y/n” Dick smiled sheepishly.

“I love this Dick, but what about handing out candy to the kids?” You said as you hugged him.

“Oh I have someone to deal with that for us” Dick said as Damian came walking out of the bathroom, almost on queue.

“Oh hey y/n you’re finally home” Damian said.

“It’s nice to see you Damian” you smiled.

“I guess this means I’m being put to work now” Damian sighed before he left.

“So what are we going to do first?” you asked.

“I’m glad you asked” Dick smiled before leading you to the dining room where two pumpkins, and pumpkin carving tools laid.

“Oh my god” you said as you ran to hug dick.

You and Dick had fun carving the pumpkins together. It was just like what you dreamed having a boyfriend would be when you were in Highschool. Dick was so perfect, you still wonder how you managed to pull him.

You and Dick had a blast carving pumpkins together. It was something so simple but something that you would remember for a lifetime. After the two of you were done carving your pumpkin designs, Dick took you to the living room, where snacks laid on the table.

“I have a whole movie marathon ready for us” Dick smiled as he lead you to the couch.

The first movie that the two of you watched was Hocus Pocus, a classic. The two of you cuddled into a warm blanket, while you watched. The two of you needed up only watching two more movies before you ended up just making out on the couch.

But your make out session was cut short when Damian came bursting into the room.

“Dick, y/n, you might want to stop making out and call an ambulance, some imbecile tried to steal your whole candy bucket but, let’s just say he’s taking a nap on your front porch” Damian said calmly.

“DAMIAN! I THOUGHT WE AGREED THAT THERE WOULD BE NO VIOLENCE!” Dick shouted.

“I take my job’s very seriously” Damian said before walking back outside as if nothing happened

Bonus

[feralrabidcrow]

Can The Mercs Drive

Scout: He doesn't have a drivers license, but in like, a desperate situation, he would know enough of the basics to get a car to move. He would be absolutely horrible at it, though. And his probability of crashing is high. He loves riding shotgun in cars and talks about how one day he's gonna get a super fancy sports car and impress all the girls, but he's never going to get around to actually learning how to drive.

Soldier: He cannot legally drive, he should not drive, he should be kept as far away from a driver's seat as possible, and yet he has stolen the company van on multiple occasions to go get McDonald's with Demo. Most of the dents and scratches on the van are from Soldier. He is far too confident for his own good.

Pyro: Pyro has never been seen driving, it seems safe enough to assume that Pyro cannot drive, but also I think it would be funny if they could, they just never have because no one trusts them to. Imagining Pyro driving like, a massive monster truck with flame decals.

Demo: He can technically drive, it's just that most of the time he's too drunk to drive. If he manages to get sober enough to be in a state of competence, he's an impressively responsible driver.

Heavy: The problem for Heavy isn't driving, it's finding vehicles with driver's seats that he can comfortably fit into. His driving skill is pretty average, nothing special but he's reliable when you need to get somewhere.

Engineer: Not only is he able to drive just about any vehicle you put him in, he's the team's mechanic and loves to work on modifying vehicles. Spy was hesitant to let Engineer mess around with his car, but it goes a hell of a lot faster now so he can't really complain.

Medic: He knows how to drive, but he's not legally allowed to. Not that he would let that stop him. He has a makeshift 'ambulance' that he likes to drive around in, complete with organ fridges for emergencies. He also has a history of stealing cars, including a catering van from a wedding that came with a certain little dove.

Sniper: As a guy who lives in a camper van, he definitely can drive well. He's especially skilled at driving large vehicles. He's one of the teams go to drivers when they have somewhere they need to be, alongside Engineer.

Spy: He has an expensive convertible sports car that's his pride and joy. It's a total speed demon after whatever Engineer did to it, and he likes to go out speeding down the long roads in it. However, he doesn't know how to drive larger vehicles.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

(Actual) Allergies - BAU x cowboy!reader

Description: Penelope takes up baking and cowboy reader tries it. He should have asked what was in it. 

Warnings: Allergic Reaction

A/N: A short sorta fluffy thing

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84

Penelope had cornered you as soon as you had entered the bullpen, immediately telling you how she had decided to try baking this weekend. You peered into the box quickly, seeing cookies, nicely cooked. Browning around the edges, but based on the outside, it would be soft in the middle. Cooked to perfection.

"Those look real good," You commented, giving Penelope a grin, “When did you start baking?”

"Have one," She says, thrusting the box towards you, “And like last week. You’ve convinced me to try it!”

You smile as you bite into the cookie, eyes closing for a moment as you nod, “Really good!” You said, mouthful of cookie. 

“Really?” Penelope’s eyes light up as you nod once more, quickly taking another bite. 

You quickly polished the cookie off, giving a thumbs up to Garcia, “That was delicious,”

She beamed, “You’ll make a baker of me yet,” 

You smiled, finding yourself beginning to frown when a small tickle began in the back of your throat.

“What’s in this?” You asked, swallowing heavily, trying to ignore the tingling in your throat. You were just overthinking, everything was fine. It was probably just in your head anyway.

“Er, flour, sugar, chocolate, and-”

“Peanuts?” When she nods, you take a deep breath. Okay, not in your head then, “Hate to be that person, c’n sumone take me to hospital?”

“Are you okay?”

You nod, “Can’t breathe-” You wheeze slightly, “All’rgies-”

“You’re allergic to peanuts?” When you nod, Penelope’s eyes widen. “Oh god, I am so sorry-”

“‘S a‘ght,” Yo wheeze, “Need a ride-”

Spencer’s by your side quickly, “Do you have an EpiPen?”

You shake your head, “Home.”

“You left your EpiPen at home?!” Penelope exclaimed as the panic set in, if looks could kill your allergy would be working a lot faster.

“D’nt go ‘round eatin’ peanu’s,” You coughed. Spencer didn’t comment, simply running to the closest first aid box, throwing the lid open and searching for an EpiPen. He doesn’t say anything as he grabs it.

"Get him on the floor," He waits for Morgan and Hotch to lay you on the ground and he punches the pen into your thigh.

“Okay ow!” Spencer rolls his eyes as he elevates your legs. 

"You're so dramatic." Emily chimed. 

In too much pain (both from your throat and the EpiPen), you simply stick your finger up at her. Prentiss gave a laugh despite the situation. "Ambulance has been called," Hotch informed as he walked back.

"Coulda just drove," You mumbled. 

JJ walked in, rushing towards the group when she saw you all gathered. "What happened?" 

"All'gies," You mumbled, lifting a hand up to your face. "'M fine though,"

"Yeah, because Boy Genius saved you," Garcia chimed in.

"Because apparently you don't carry an EpiPen around with you." Emily said, dobbing you in to JJ. JJ turned to you with raises eyebrows.

"We'll talk about that later, but right now, are you alright?" You gave a nod. 

"I mean my leg h'rts and throat feels weird but I ain't dyin'." 

"Anymore." Morgan chimed. 

"Yeah, yeah, anymore," You muttered. None of them were going to let you live this down.