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the-unidentified-author · 28 days ago

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To Love Is to Antagonize | LT. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd | Top Gun: Maverick

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW], teasing, slow build, slow burn?, sly glances, shy Bob, not so shy Bob, rough, loving, talks you through it, reader wears a bikini, no descriptions of the readers body, horny bob, frustrated bob, shirtless bob, unprotected p in v, you have to keep quiet, hand over mouth, bob knows what hes doing, bobs hand on readers body, truth or dare, mention of boobs, breeding kink? consensual!

Summary: A camping trip with the squad is the perfect opportunity for you to get to know Bob a little better. But, of course things can't ever be easy. Nat decides that the best way for you to finally get to jump, Bobs bones is if you antagonize him until the shy, polite part of him gives way to the feral, dirty minded freak he really is.

A/n: I had to split this into individual parts as editing a huge chunk of text actually almost fried my brain. Only the first chapters are posted here because this fic is LONG. There is a link HERE, and at the bottom of this post to the completed fic on AO3. Enjoy!

This fic is inspired by the plan ; robert 'bob' floyd by @geminiwritten, I couldn't stop thinking about it, I think it changed my brain chemistry. Give it a read! If you haven't already!!!

Word Count: 29,075

Not my gif, if its yours and you would like me to remove it just ask <3

I think this is one of the longest, fully completed fics that I have ever written. I don’t even care if there are mistakes and if it’s shit. I had so much fun writing it and I am fucking proud that I finished it!!!

Chapter 1:

The late afternoon sun slanted through the half-open blinds, painting the cluttered room with warm, golden light. You were sitting cross-legged on the scuffed hardwood floor, your backpack propped open beside you like a hungry mouth, methodically sorting through the piles of camping gear strewn around you.

Phoenix, your roommate and perennial mischief-maker, lounged on the mussed bed, idly tossing a balled-up sock in the air and catching it with a flourish. Their dark eyes danced with suppressed laughter, and you could practically see the gears turning in their head.

"Hey," Phoenix said suddenly, a grin spreading across her face like a slow sunrise. "You notice how Bob's been acting around you lately?"

You looked up from your packing, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

Phoenix snorted, rolling her eyes with exaggerated patience. "Come on, don't play dumb. He's been all flustered and tongue-tied, tripping over himself whenever you're nearby. It's adorable, really."

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile as you turned back to your gear. "He does not."

"Does too!" Phoenix retorted, sitting up with a smirk. "I bet he's got a massive crush on you. He's just too shy to make a move."

You scoffed, reaching for a rolled-up sleeping bag and tucking it into your backpack with a little more force than necessary. "You're imagining things. Bob's just… Bob. He's like that with everyone."

"Nope. I know what I see," Phoenix insisted, leaning forward with a conspiratorial wink. "Mark my words, something's gonna happen on this trip. All those long, moonlit walks in the woods? The romantic campfire stories? It's the perfect setup."

You crossed your arms, giving Phoenix a skeptical look. “Hardly romantic—the whole squad's going to be there. Plus, Bob’s just shy. He’s like that with everyone.”

Phoenix grinned, leaning back on her elbows, unshaken. “Exactly. That’s what makes it even more adorable. Shy guys are always the most intense when they finally get the guts to make a move. And trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just friendly.”

You rolled your eyes, stuffing a few more socks into your pack. “He’s probably just nervous. It’s a big trip, big group—don’t overthink it.”

Phoenix snorted softly, eyes narrowing playfully. “Nope. I think he's got it bad—secretly scripting long walks, staring at your profile while pretending to be lost in thought. Trust me, I’ve seen those little glances—you’re not that oblivious, right?”

You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head. “Please. It’s all in your head. Bob’s a nice guy, but I think you’re reading way too much into it.”

Phoenix sat up, her expression turning playful but insistent. “You’re missing the signs. Those subtle hints? The way he fidgets around you, trying to hide how much he’s staring? That’s crush 101. And I’m telling you, something’s gonna happen—probably accidental, probably sweet. But definitely happening.”

You sighed, feeling a mixture of amusement and awkwardness. “You’re impossible.”

Phoenix grinned wider, crossing her arms exaggeratedly. “Hey, I’m just saying—if I were him, I’d be too nervous to say anything directly.”

You blinked, caught between amusement and a little flutter of nerves. “You’ve got enough confidence for both of us.”

Phoenix leaned in slightly, a sly smile curling her lips. “Maybe. Or perhaps I just know how these things work. The subtle signals, the waiting game. Trust me, this trip’s going to turn into something pretty interesting.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Bob’s far too shy to admit anything, even if he’s got a crush. He’s polite and nervous—he wouldn’t make a move, not even if I practically waved it in his face.”

Phoenix’s eyes sparkled with mischief, a grin tugging at her lips. “That’s precisely where you come in. You just need to drive him absolutely insane—that’s how you’ll get his attention.”

You looked at her, skeptical. “What? How?”

Phoenix sat forward, excitement laced her words. “Listen—I’m talking about just enough teasing, a little flirtation. Show him a little more of that smile, a little suggestive glance now and then. And the best way? Giving him glimpses of your cleavage—nothing crazy, just enough to make his head spin. Make him realise what he’s been missing.”

You felt your cheeks flush but tried to stay nonchalant. “You want me to flirt with him?”

Phoenix winked, eyes glinting with scheming amusement. “Exactly. You’re gorgeous—what’s the worst that could happen? Just enough teasing that he starts second-guessing everything, wondering if you’re interested. When he finally gets it—trust me, the guy’s a man, manners can only hold him back for so long.” She grinned wider. “You’re the one who’s got the power in this game. Just give him enough glimpses, enough softly spoken hints, and watch him unravel. He won’t be able to resist eventually.”

You raised an eyebrow, struggling not to smile. “You want me to blue-ball, poor Bob?”

Phoenix snorted, batting you lightly with the balled-up sock. “Please, it’s not about torturing him. This might be the only way to get him to actually admit he likes you.” She paused, eyes sparkling. “Shy boys never just come out and say it. You have to make it so obvious they can’t help themselves. But honestly, isn’t that half the fun?”

You snorted, cheeks warming. “So I just flirt him into a confession?”

She grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “Exactly! Shy boys are always so much fun—every glance, every accidental brush, it drives them wild. It’s adorable. Besides, you like a chase too, don’t you?”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to meet her gaze, though you felt that flutter of anticipation. “Maybe. Just a little.”

Phoenix nudged your leg with her foot, her grin impossibly wide. “Trust me. If you want him to make a move, this is the way. It’ll be fun for both of you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling now. “You’re dangerous, Phoenix.”

She winked. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Just start with a few smiles and a little less hoodie—he won’t know what hit him.”

Chapter 2:

The gravel crunched beneath your boots as the squad clustered in the busy car park, vehicles parked haphazardly, gear spilling out. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow, shadows stretching long as everyone prepared to head into the woods.

Jake sparred with Bradley, both bouncing on their toes, fists raised. Jake’s grin was wide, teasing as he threw quick jabs, while Bradley’s smirk matched his playful aggression, both clearly enjoying themselves.

Reuben was doubled over, roaring with laughter, while Mickey stared at the map, eyebrows raising as he took in the scene. “Wait, wait—what? So, we’re hiking before setting up camp? I thought we just show up, pitch tents, and chill,” Mickey said, shaking his head with a weird mix of surprise and annoyance.

Reuben chuckled, smacking Mickey on the back. “Dude, you seriously thought they were just gonna drive us here and call it a day? Nah, buddy. You gotta earn your s'mores.”

Mickey looked genuinely puzzled, crossing his arms. “Nah, I just thought—y’know, a chill weekend. I didn’t expect a full hike before we even set up.” He shrugged, a wide grin curling his lips. “But, hey, I’ll survive. Just didn’t plan on breaking a sweat today, that’s all.”

Phoenix leaned casually against a van, arms crossed, enjoying the scene with her usual mischievous smile. She shot you a quick glance, clearly amused. “Well, Mickey, think of it as pre-camping cardio. Nothing like a good hike to kick off the weekend, right?”

Meanwhile, standing near the back, Bob was perfectly still. His backpack was already on, buckled tight, everything arranged with military precision—every strap and pocket exactly in place. His gear was spotless, each item meticulously packed, as if he had just stepped out of uniform instead of the chaos of the car park.

He watched quietly, calm and composed, like he’d seen it all before—the sparring, the teasing, the group’s playful fuss. His gaze flicked over Jake and Bradley still going at it, Mickey’s reaction, everyone joking around, but his posture remained steady, as if ready for whatever unfolded next.

You caught his eye for a split second, and he offered you a shy smile before awkwardly shifting his focus back to your teammates. His demeanour was as sharp and precise as his gear—completely at ease, almost military in how ready he seemed to face whatever came.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm amber glow over the busy car park. Vehicles scattered in every direction, gear spilling out like a jumble of chaos. The smell of fresh pine and earth drifted in the air as everyone started to gather their packs.

Natasha, or Nat as everyone called her, pushed off from the van with a confident grin. "Alright, folks, let's get moving before the sun dips too low. No dilly-dallying—get those boots clicking."

She glanced around at the excited crowd, her eyes twinkling. “You all good on your gear? No forgotten snacks or emergency marshmallows?” she added with a mischievous wink.

Jake clapped Bob on the back, a friendly, almost teasing gesture that made Bob straighten his glasses and adjust his already pristine gear with practiced precision. He let himself be led by the group, his posture steady and military-precise, ready for whatever was coming next.

The others grabbed their packs, slinging bags over shoulders and exchanging quick, energetic glances. With a collective nod, they turned toward the trail leading into the woods, footsteps crunching on gravel as they began their trek.

Natasha’s eyes shifted from the group to you. She sidled up quietly, lowering her voice so just you could hear. “Hey, have you packed everything we agreed on for Operation Flirt with bob until he breaks and jumps your bones?”

Your eyes flicked to her, and she grinned mischievously. Without missing a beat, she leaned in close, whispering with a conspiratorial wink, “You know… the whole mission to make Bob think he’s missing out on the best thing that’s ever happened to him’”

She gave you a playful nudge. “Think you’re ready for it?”

"As I will ever be." you replied with a shake of your head and a soft smile.

The trail narrowed as you followed the group into the shade of the pines, leaves crunching beneath your boots. When you’d packed with Nat, she’d settled on your hiking outfit with gleeful precision: tight black cycling shorts that clung to your thighs and left nothing for the imagination, paired with a slick, supportive sports bra—probably the most engineering you’d ever worn under your clothes. You’d thrown a zip-up hoodie on top, tugged just low enough to almost hide the curve of your breasts, though not quite.

Nat had eyed you critically before you left, giving a brisk nod of approval. “Perfect. Athletic, strategic, and just distracting enough. Plenty for him to think about while pretending he’s focused on the route.”

Now, as the hike stretched on, bits of sunlight filtered down through the branches, occasionally catching on the bare length of your legs or the hint of your silhouette beneath the hoodie. Each time the trail bent, or you adjusted your straps, you felt eyes on you—Bob’s eyes, in particular. He tried valiantly to keep his gaze front and centre, but every few minutes, he’d look your way, glasses glinting, cheeks suspiciously warm, quickly shifting his focus back to his boots.

You feigned obliviousness, letting your conversation drift loosely around Nat, Mickey, and the others ahead. A casual laugh, a stretch overhead to fix your backpack strap, revealing just a sliver more skin. Bob, walking beside you, never said a word about it. But the hush in his throat, the way he fumbled with his water bottle, the uncharacteristic distraction in his step—all gave him away.

His composure stayed in place by sheer force of will, but every so often he'd fidget with his gear, or awkwardly clear his throat, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

The trees finally opened onto the edge of a small lake, sunlight flickering silver and gold across the rippling surface. The campsite itself was tucked beneath a tall stand of pines, the ground carpeted with needles and moss so soft it muted every step. Birdsong drifted down from somewhere high in the branches, and the water lapped gently against the stones lining the shore. To one side, a weathered fire pit marked the heart of the clearing, already circled by flat-topped logs and half-buried stones for makeshift seating. Across the water, a distant ridge glazed in late-afternoon light promised privacy and peace—your group the only intruders on a scene so still it almost felt untouched.

Mickey shrugged off his pack with a huff, bending from the waist and letting it fall with an exaggerated grunt. “Honestly, that was at least twice the walk it looked on the map,” he groaned, but his complaints trailed off as he turned to the water, unable to hide a wide, genuine smile. “This is gorgeous, though. Totally, worth it.”

The others scattered, Jake and Bradley immediately making a beeline for the fire pit, clapping each other on the back as they poked at the charred logs and debated how best to arrange things. Reuben was already eyeing the shoreline, calculating the best spot to drop his gear and maybe sneak in a stone-skimming contest before dark. Bob, immaculate as ever, had set down his pack and was surveying the perimeter—probably cataloguing landmarks and escape routes, you thought, amused.

As you stretched your arms and let your muscles relax, Natasha sidled up, her face bright with playful intent. She nudged your side, voice low and brimming with delight. “So,” she whispered, not even glancing at the lake, “did you see the way Bob couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole hike up here? He’s lucky he didn’t walk straight into a tree.”

You shot Natasha a sly look, unable to keep the smile off your face. “How long do you think it’ll take before he finally snaps and says something?”

Natasha grinned, eyes sparkling as she surveyed the group’s bustling chaos. “That depends. If you’re planning to keep up the subtle torture, I’d give it another day. But if you really want to push him over the edge…” She arched a brow in your direction. “You did bring that absolutely scandalous bikini, didn’t you?”

Heat crept into your cheeks—part nerves, part excitement. “Maybe. Though I might need a bodyguard if I actually walk out in it. It’s barely more than a couple of strings.”

Natasha barked a quiet laugh. “Perfect. Honestly, after the day we’ve had, a dip in the lake is non-negotiable tomorrow morning. I want to see if Bradley and Jake can actually swim, or if they just flex near the shore.”

You nudged her side, lowering your voice. “You’re just hoping Bob short-circuits.”

“I’m hoping everyone short-circuits,” she shot back, grinning. “We’ll swim, you will act normal, and I will watch Bob for a reaction. Tomorrow?” She glanced up at the fading sun. “I’m thinking coffee by the lake at sunrise. Possibly an early swim—just the two of us. That’ll set the mood for the whole day.”

You spun an innocent look her way. “You mean, Operation break bob, phase two?”

Natasha’s grin grew wicked. “Exactly. Tonight campfire, stories, and just enough flirting that Bob can’t sleep. Tomorrow, bikini entrance and a whole new level of distraction. Ready for it?”

You looked out at the water, sunlight gleaming off the small ripples, feeling anticipation buzz along your skin. “Absolutely. Let’s make this a trip to remember.”

Chapter 3:

The path down by the lake rippled with the gold of the lowering sun. You tugged your hoodie back on, leaving your pack behind for the short walk, and Bob fell into step beside you. Before you’d even left the rough mossy boundary of the campsite, he paused and crouched beside his pack—already arranged in a neat, regulation-perfect stack. With practiced ease, he unzipped a small pocket and pulled out a slim foldable saw, testing the hinge before stashing it in his back pocket.

You blinked, caught somewhere between admiration and amusement. Of course, Bob came prepared for everything, but it still surprised you—the rest of you just grabbed sticks and hoped for the best, but Bob had clearly thought this through.

He glanced at the tree line with a quiet sort of certainty. “Best place for dry wood’s usually up by the rocks,” he said, as the two of you stepped out into the deepening green. “It stays out of the wind and the ground drains faster. Less likely to be rotted.”

You shot him a sidelong smile, letting the admiration show just a little. “No wonder Nat keeps you as her back seater,” you teased, falling into step beside him as you followed the trail toward the rocks. “You’re like a human survival manual—she’ll never let you out of her sight with skills like that.”

A faint flush crept up Bob’s neck. He ducked his head, but not before you caught the ghost of a proud, shy smile flickering across his face. “Well, she likes things to run smooth,” he mumbled, adjusting his grip on the saw. “It’s easier to be prepared. I like making sure nothing gets missed.”

You nudged him lightly, grinning. “And here I thought you just wanted an excuse to show off all your special gear. Very impressive.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and genuine, glasses slipping a fraction down his nose. “Trust me—if I was showing off, I’d have brought the portable espresso machine.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Next trip, then?”

This time, he glanced over, braver somehow. “Deal.”

The rocks tumbled in mossy clusters, and Bob scanned the ground until he found a branch that looked promising. He appraised a fallen pine, then knelt, rolling up his sleeves with a practiced flick. The muscles in his forearms flexed beneath golden skin as he braced the saw and set to work.

You let your gaze linger, indulging for just a moment—the slice of his jaw in profile, the almost methodical way he worked, each motion deliberate. There was a quiet concentration to him, the steady back-and-forth of the saw and the way the light caught on his dampening hairline. If Phoenix could see you now, she’d be snickering in the underbrush.

Bob paused, breath shallow, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “This wood is stubborn,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes, chest rising and falling with the effort.

You offered him a teasing smile, stepping closer but not quite taking over. “I’m impressed. Honestly, I thought you were all brains and field manuals��but you’re not so bad with your hands, either.”

He glanced at you then, startled, and for a beat you let your gaze drop—lingering, suggestive—before you grinned and bent to begin gathering the cut branches. Bob coughed, looking suddenly desperate to concentrate solely on the saw, but you didn’t miss the flush creeping up his neck again.

Your mind wandered wickedly: there was something undeniably hot about Bob like this, strips of sunlight freckling his arms, intent on the task, something less shy and more commanding taking over as he worked. If this was what a camping trip could offer, you’d gladly volunteer for wood-gathering duty every time.

You let your fingers graze his as you reached for a branch, close enough that he’d feel it—a quiet spark under the guise of teamwork. He flinched slightly, then immediately pulled his hand back, cheeks flushed.

“S-sorry, that was—my fault,” he stammered, though you both knew it wasn’t. He looked at the ground as if willing it to swallow him.

You fought the urge to smile, a quiet satisfaction blooming in your chest. Phoenix would have a field day if she could see him now.

He collected himself and cleared his throat, not quite meeting your eyes. “I think we’ve got enough,” he managed, stacking the freshly cut branches at his feet. “We should, um… gather it up and head back.”

You nodded, biting back a smirk. If your goal was to gently rattle him, you were definitely on the right track. Without another word, you stooped to gather the wood—close enough that your shoulders touched for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. As you straightened, you caught the brief hesitation in his peripheral gaze, his eyes lingering at the edge of your hoodie for a moment too long. You pretended not to notice, busying yourself with the smooth rhythm of stacking branches.

Then you started back toward camp, feeling the heat of his stolen glances still trailing after you all the way through the dappled light.

A Link to the COMPLETE FIC ON AO3

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pinkjoy-cons · 8 months ago

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Bump In The Night

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑶𝒓𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝑨𝑭𝑨𝑩!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕)⋆ ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

Word Count: 1539

I was possessed by a demon to write this. Idk what happened. Ororon by boy, I'm sorry I made you a bottom in this.

Translations and warnings under the cut. MDNI. Please do not translate, narrate, copy, or recommend on TikTok

Warnings: sub!Character, service top!Reader (I think???), afab, no pronouns used (please let me know if i added one on accident), no descriptive feature, reader does have hair that can be grabbed, cowgirl position, overstimulation (male receiving), teasing, praise, reader speaks Spanish a little (my Mexican ancestors looking down at me with shame), vocal male character, tit sucking, exaggeration of sexual activities, kinda rough, begging, blowjob, slight hand job, brief cock-warming, light aftercare, cuddling, not edited in the slightest I wrote this in like 3 hours. Let me know if I missed anything.

Muñeco - Doll Mi Cariño - My Dear Verdad - Literally it means "truth" but in this context I'm using it to mean "right" Ya no más - Okay/alright no more Pobre pájaro - Poor bird Ay, que chulo - Oh, how cute

“It’s alright baby. I know you can handle it.” You encouraged Ororon as you continued to bounce on his dick. Despite it being late at night Ororon couldn’t help himself. You were sound asleep when you were woken up with the feeling of him rubbing himself against your ass. All he could do was mutter a small sorry…please? And how could you resist when he asked so nicely.

You held both of his hands as you continued to work his cock in and out of you. He craved touch at all times while being intimate and you were more than happy to fulfill that. “You’re doing so well for me muñeco.” On a particularly intense bounce you decided to come down with a bit more force and grind your clit into his pubic bone. The sensation nearly took his breath away and he let go of your hands to hold onto your hips; encouraging you to press into him more. A pathetic moan escaped his lips. He tried to use the back of his hand to cover his mouth and shut his eyes but you stopped him. His pupils were dilated as you forced Ororon to look at you.

“What are you doing, ¿mi cariño?” You brushed his face, redder than blood that ran through your veins. “You know how much I love to see your eyes. You always did have such beautiful eyes.” You hopped again ever so slightly and Ororon tried to meet you with a thrust of his hips. “And your sounds,” You continued and caressed his face. Light touches against his warm skin. The drag of your fingers nearly caused him to close his eyes but he fought the urge as he chased your touch, desperate for more. “You know how much I love to hear you, ¿verdad?” You moved your hand to his mouth and pushed your thumb past his lips. Immediately, he began to suck on your thumb. You still kept up with the slow yet consistent rock of your hips but now and then would rock harder. That caused him to whine while he sucked your thumb. There was a pleading look in his eyes and Ororon knew you were waiting for his answer.

When he was finally ready to speak, you removed your thumb, “I…I just…” His face turned a deeper shade of red as “What if someone hears me?” You stopped and chuckled.

“Your house is on the furthest outskirts of the tribe and it’s the middle of the night. Who is going to hear you Ororon?” That didn’t seem to help as he turned his head away out of embarrassment. He knew you liked him loud when he could be but the idea of someone hearing him made him want to bury himself where his plants grew. You regarded Ororon for a moment – his lips plump and red from him trying to hold back, eyes practically fucked out from you movements, and his chest was heavy from his breaths – ever so slightly you could feel him twitch against your walls. His hands moved to your hips and squeezed, most likely impatient from just having you warm his cock this entire time. Your hand moved to play with his right ear. You scratched and rubbed the fur gently. He closed his eyes and let out a few whimpers and shallow breaths.

Finally, you made an effort to let out a dramatic sigh, “You’re right, someone might hear you. We should just stop.”

“What!” Ororon snapped to attention and supported himself on his arms to sit up. “W-what do you mean stop?”

“Well, you said someone might hear us so we should just stop, right? And it’s late so we should just get some sleep at this point.” You pushed him down and used his chest to leverage yourself off his dick. As you raised yourself up, Ororon nearly lifted his hips to chase after you.

“No-ho-ooo. Don’t!” He used all his strength to hold you in place; hands gripping your hips. Your pussy was just about to come off the tip.

“What’s wrong?” You teased him and lowered yourself close to his ears. “Didn’t you want me to stop?” Your hips moved on their own accord, just catching on his mushroom tip, in and out, in and out. It took everything in your power to not slam back down on him and Ororon moaned into your ear. “If you truly want me to stop, tell me. And I will stop.”

Ororon cried out. “No! Don’t stop! Keep going. I-I’ll be loud! I’ll be as loud as you want just please. Fuck me! Make me come, please!” You slammed back down and you both moaned at the sudden movement.

A small laugh and a good boy to his ear was all the warning Ororon got before you went to work on his aching cock and your pulsing pussy. Ororon said he would be loud and, bless this man, he came through. Mixed with the sound of skin against skin you could hear every moan, sob, and whimper he could come up with. A few times he would beg for you to go faster or slower. During one of your slower moments he wrapped around your back to bring your chest closer. He met you halfway and brought one nipple into his mouth and cried against your pearled bud. He looked so sweet sucking against you that you cooed encouraging words to him and played with his hair.

When he was done with one he switched to the other and you moaned. He felt your pussy flutter and sucked harder like he was a man starving, determined to make you feel as good as he felt. Pobre pájaro, little did he know you were feeling just as good as he was if not more. As he sucked Ororon looked up and you nearly came at the sight. You pulled him off you and pushed him back down. His fucked out face and labored breathing was truly one of the many wonders of this world.

“Ya no más.” Your index finger lifted his chin ever so slightly, “Still with me?” He nodded. You smiled and continued. You both whined out into the night. At one point Ororon moved your hand to his throat and you squeezed just enough. It was all he needed to cry out and come right into your aching pussy. With one final buck you finally came too.

You fell atop him and you both caught your breaths. Neither spoke or moved. When it was finally time for you to get up, you did it carefully. You both hissed at the movement from your activities. Once fully released, you spread your pussy just so and let the cum fall onto his cock.

You settled between his legs and waited. Your finger and thumb rubbing up and down his half hard dick. You looked up at him expectantly.

“C-can you-” He trailed off and looked away, you let it slide this time. Ororon brought the back of his hand to his mouth. “Can you please, clean me off?” He glanced at you over his hand as he sat up to get a better view.

A chuckle left your lips. “Ay, que chulo.” You went down to clean his dick of your combined orgasms. Tongue and throat worked in tandem to get every last drop of your night together. Ororon gripped the sheets below him and his back arched from the over stimulation. Despite having just finished you felt the tell-tale signs of his orgasm again. You took him deeper into your throat and cupped his balls. Ororon bucked into you and called out wait. He shot up and held you down on his dick as he curled in on himself with a vice grip on your hair. He cried and a few tears fell from his eyes as he came again into your mouth. He caught his breath and you sucked in as you released yourself from him to make sure you got it all. Now, he was truly spent. He laid flat on the bed while you got a washcloth from the night stand and did you best to clean you both up. You kissed his salty tears away and met your lips with his. Ororon was so loving in what he did that each kiss you shared was as passionate as the last. As you held his face, he leaned into your touch with a sigh of content. You dabbed at his chest and forehead and gently around his dick and pubic area.

“Hmm…” You began to yourself. “Let me get you a warm washcloth instead.” He whined at your statement and grabbed you to bring you closer to his chest.

“Stay here. Please.”

“Are you sure? We just-“Yes.” He held you tighter. “Just stay here. Play with my hair.” And just like that he was out like a light. You laughed against his skin and did your best to get comfortable as your hand found its way into his beautiful locks. You know the sun would rise in just a few hours so you did your best to savor the last few moments of rest with him.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin #ororon x reader #ororon x female reader #ororon x afab reader #my witing #ororon #ororon x reader smut #ororon x gender neutral reader #ororon x you #ororon x fem reader smut #ororon smut

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januaryembrs · 1 year ago

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WAS I FOOLIN MYSELF | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [5]

Description: The THREE times you can't have him no matter how much you want to

Length. 15.2k

warnings: angst, spencer's addiction mentioned, gory cm cases (medical trauma, removing limbs, human marionettes etc) explosion, broken arm and surgery, slight lemon at end but not actually written just described aftermath, Maeve arc (I'm so sorry), guns, almost dying, blood, general cm warnings, anything else let me know!

previous chpt | next chpt

Authors note; I will edit in the morning I just really wanted you all to have the next chapter as promised!!

'I'ma strike these matches, never had control,

I'm ready to let go, no, was I fooling myself?'

The one with the wedding

JJ’s ears were ringing, a high pitched whine like a radio skipping between stations searching for a signal, and she felt the hard concrete against her milky skin before the throbbing in her forehead hit.

“JJ, are you alright?” There were hands at her shoulders, patting her down for fractures, not wanting to move her if her spine had been hit, and it wasn’t until she rolled herself over, eyes frantic and in shock that she saw Morgan.

“Where’s Will? Where’s Bugsy?” She asked, the words blurring into one word. Her legs were struggling to a stand before she could think too much about the concussion she almost definitely had, giving Morgan a quick once over, “Did they get out of there?”

But she hadn’t seen any movement before the blast had shot them back ten feet to the floor. Had only seen the back of the youngest Prentiss woman’s head as she rushed into the building to get emergency medical care to her partner.

“Where’s Emily?” Morgan added, and the two of them realised they were missing perhaps three of the most important people to them with no sign of life from any of them.

It didn’t take much for JJ to take off bolting into where the bank’s entrance had crumbled to the floor, where the dust hadn’t even settled and they didn’t know whether there was a second set of bombs waiting for them. They didn’t know anything.

And it was for that reason JJ dipped straight into the wall of smoke, hand tight on her gun as she went to look for survivors.

Morgan and Hotch were hot on her heels, a dozen firefighters and medical in tow, a similar face of dread in their expressions.

Aaron’s heart was in his throat when they entered the building, the west facing wall almost entirely in smithereens on the floor. The dust choked him the second they ran in, and he coughed before he could even get a word out, hand flying over his mouth to try give himself some kind of filter to the air.

“Bugsy!” He yelled as loud as his dry vocal chords would allow, “Bugsy, give us a signal,”

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of JJ and Morgan screaming for Will and Emily just as loud. And even to that they received no answer.

It wasn’t until they got close enough to the rubble and began seeing the bodies did Aaron start to fear the worst. He called her name again, her real name, splitting up from the rest of his team because it was no longer a mission for the UnSubs, it was now a search and rescue.

He crouched to press his fingers against a woman’s throat, stomach flipping when he felt no pulse beneath them, before he moved onto another one, his eyes darting between the chunks of brick and ceiling to see if he could spot anything that looked like an FBI jacket.

It wasn’t until he found one of the men donned in a SWAT uniform, his gun long since dropped to the tiles that he knew he must be close. It was one of the guys who had gone into the buildings seconds before her.

He felt for a familiar thrum of a heartbeat, his breath thick in his throat when he managed to get a slow and steady thump, and he immediately began signalling for medical attention.

Paramedics came running over with a stretcher between them, but Aaron wasn’t finished, Not until he saw her.

He dodged around the large chunk of stone that piled in the centre of the room, cringing when he saw a splatter of blood on the tiles in front of him, and it was only when he saw a hand splayed out on the floor did his heart truly stop.

His cold eyes were wet with fear as he traced the hand up its arm, the familiar blue he wore himself ripped to shreds, the skin beneath it broken and the bone snapped clean in two. He could barely make out the three letters, F. B. I. that were so covered in blood and dirt it almost matched the navy, before he got the pillow of familiar hair matted against a head that faced away from him.

But it was her. There was no doubt about it.

He thinks he said her name, but it might just have been a sob, because he fell to his knees quickly, scrambling to get to her face to see if she would respond to him at all.

“Bugsy, I need you to wake up,” He ordered, though it sounded like a hiss of pain, his rough hands finding her young face, desperate for any movement behind her eyelids, “Come on, sweetheart, just tell me what day it is,”

Years of training on what to do in a crisis and the correct first aid to give to someone unresponsive flew out of his brain, leaving behind bits and pieces like getting her to talk to see whether she had severed anything in that big, amazing brain of hers that had so much promise.

He leaned his ear down next to her nose, looking down the front of her chest to check for any signs of breath.

This was too similar to what Foyet had done with Haley, like a horrid deja-vu he wouldn’t wish even on their worst UnSub. He had been too slow, too stubborn, too stupid to stop her from getting hurt. He didn’t know what her blood on his hands would feel like, didn’t know if he would ever sleep again knowing he had gotten her killed.

Aaron’s stomach flipped when he saw her ribs rising slowly beneath her vest, her breaths cold against his earlobe.

“Guess it’s my turn to come back from the dead, huh?” A croaking whisper came softly, and he flicked his head around so fast he thought he might have whiplash.

But her eyes were open, squinting and tired, and he cursed the fact he had only then noticed the cut on her forehead, red ichor pumping fast and restlessly down the side of her face.

He gave a breathless laugh, though it pained his own ringing ear to do so, stroking gently down her face with the same care he would put Jack to bed with.

“Gotcha,” She smiled up at him sheepishly, her brows furrowing when she seemed then to notice the tears rolling down the tip of his nose, “Aaron Hotchner crying over me, are pigs flying today?”

He chuckled wetly, and his eyes were the warmest brown she’d ever seen them when he looked down at her. He turned his attention away for a second to call over medical, his eyes landing on Emily who was also frantically scanning the wreckage for her sister and giving her a sign too.

“You gave us quite a scare there,” Aaron said softly, because judging by the bump on her head, and the way blood was pooling in her ears, he guessed her eardrums had been damaged in the blast. Emily was over to them in seconds, looking dishevelled herself, and she gasped into her hands when she saw her sister’s fragile form.

“Bugsy- oh my god your arm,”

The girl’s face dropped, eyes widening as she tried turning to see the damage but Aaron was faster, quickly blocking her view of the mangled mess of skin with hand over the side of her head.

“What’s wrong with my arm?” She asked, and he saw nothing but his son with a scraped knee in her eyes when she looked up at him vulnerably. Emily fell to her knees next to her, taking over from Aaron by stroking her sister’s cheek, because if her adrenaline rose too much, then the numbness of the shock would wear off and she would feel it all.

“I think it’s broken, but the paramedics are going to fix you right up, I promise,” Emily cooed, though she felt herself go a little white at the sight of her sister’s bones so mangled and in pieces.

Aaron looked up when he heard Morgan calling his name, spotting the paramedic team navigating their way back to where the three of them sat, and he waved his hand up to let them know where they were.

He bit his tongue, looking down at where Bugsy was clearly starting to wake up more to just how bad of a state she was in, and she watched him woefully be torn between helping the rest of his team or staying with her.

“You guys can go, I’m no use on the case anymore,” She said, despite the fact she was terrified of what might happen if they left her alone.

“Are you crazy, absolutely not-,” Emily was cut off when two EMT’s rounded the block of concrete and brick that had missed her by a few inches when it had fallen, a stretcher and med packs at their side.

“Good to see you’re responsive, Agent Prentiss,” One of the EMT’s commented, opening his case up to retrieve a neck brace and a splint for her arm before they could move her to the stretcher. Bugsy smiled up at them, though she knew it looked like a wince, taking one more look at her sister and then at Hotch, both of whom looked stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“Go, I’m serious. Will needs you,” She said, feeling Emily squeeze her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her hairline, looking down at her in worry, “Go, Emily. Just bring me pudding when you get to the hospital- no Jello-”

She hissed when the paramedics slipped the brace over her shoulders, strapping her head into place to stop her doing any more damage to her spine.

Emily nodded, and her and Hotch took off round the corner to where Morgan was calling them, and Bugsy let the paramedics fuss over her some more, taking the pain killers without a second glance once she realised just how broken Emily had meant when she saw her arm.

It got hazy from there, until she felt the sun on her face and she felt a hand grab her good side. Her eyes were rolling with the fact she was fighting off sleep, or maybe she really had lost more blood than she thought. Either way she managed to flick her eyes open enough to meet hazel hues, distraught and worried, heard a familiar voice calling her name sadly, but she was too far gone by then. Her eyes shut despite her fighting them, and she was wheeled into the back of an ambulance by the friendly EMT’s, and the doors shut before her medicated brain could even recognise the voice as Spencer.

She was asleep before she could protest to it.

–

The air smelled like bleach- no, like floor cleaner had been drenched all around her, like she had been dropped into a janitor's closet and spilled every bottle over on her way in.

Her body felt stiff, and she frowned when she felt cramp in her fingertips, pain shooting up her wrist the second she tried to move them. Her eyes opened blearily, and she groaned in protest at the overhead white lights, burying her face into the scratchy sheet that covered her body. Only then did it click that she was in a hospital.

She moaned again when she tried moving her legs and her whole body protested, her bare legs rubbing against the paper like material in a way that made her cringe, and she felt only the hospital gown and underwear on her body.

“You’re awake,” The voice startled her, and she realised she hadn’t even heard the door open in her haze. Spencer stood in the doorway, three big bunches of flowers and two teddies in his arms, one of them holding a sign saying ‘You’re bear-y brave!’

What got her was the look of worry in his eyes when he took her in head to toe, his eyes lingering on the bright pink cast on her lower arm up past her elbow.

She grimaced, following his eyes to the horror, “Sexy,”

He rushed over to her bedside, all but throwing the flowers and cuddly toys on the space where her legs weren’t curled up under the sheets, pausing for a second to assess the situation.

“Spencer, you didn’t need to get me all of this,” Bugsy said, her cheeks warming when she saw her favourite flowers right at the end of the bed, blooming right in her direction, “Is everyone okay? Is Will okay?”

He nodded, but had yet to say anything, and he fiddled with his fingertips the way he did when he was struggling to get his point across properly. She reached out with her functioning hand to take them in hers, because she hated when he wouldn’t talk to her.

“Spencer, I’m fine, it’s just a broken arm, right?” The woman asked, trying to shuffle herself into a sitting position only to yelp when her side burst into pain. He rushed to put his arm behind her back, to get her to lay back down without putting too much pressure on her sternum, “What the fuck is that? I feel like I got hit by a baseball bat,”

“That’s what happens when you run blindly into a building without waiting for backup,” Spencer said, an undertone to his words she had never heard from him before, “Two cracked ribs; you’re lucky your lungs are still intact,”

Shit.

“Anything else?” She asked, a grim look on her face as his expression soured.

“Almost tore one of your eardrums, moderate concussion. They had to put pins in your arm to fix the fracture, it was transverse before you ask, lacerations to your legs from the glass, and some shrapnel they pulled out while you were in surgery.” Spencer listed, propping a pillow behind her head for her to rest against more comfortably though he still seemed annoyed, “No biggy,”

She paused for a second, watching him like a scolded child, her lips pulling down slightly, “Are you upset with me?”

He sighed, running a gentle hand over her leg that was covered by the thin sheet, and she felt the sting of cuts on her skin just like he’d said.

“I’m not annoyed, I could never be annoyed with you; you just-” He huffed, looking up at her sad eyes and feeling his resolve crumbling immediately, “You can’t just throw yourself in the way of danger, you have people who care about you, people who love you,”

She bristled for a second, looking into her lap and chewing the inside of her lip worriedly, “I just wanted to help Will, I just didn’t want JJ and Henry to lose him the way I thought I lost Emily,”

Spencer’s heart sank, and any telling off he was going to give her for worrying him left him in seconds, and he forgave her embarrassingly fast.

Taking her hand back in his gently and scooching a chair closer to the bed so he could sit with her, he looked up at her with the sweet, puppy eyes she had always loved on him.

“I know, I know you just wanted to help,” He hushed her, using his other hand to stroke her hair behind her ear, “Next time just… wait for your lucky charm, remember?”

She smiled brilliantly, and he almost could ignore the butterfly stitching on her forehead or the bright pink cast on her arm, or the fact her clothes had looked like a crime scene when they’d shoved them in a biohazard bag with how soaked in blood they were.

Her pretty tweed pants and white shirt she’d bought especially for his Dr Who convention to make him happy, wasted.

“Where’s all my clothes?” She asked, like she’d read his mind, but then again she had been known to do that.

He pouted, because he knew she’d hate the answer, “Emily said they had to cut it off to get you into the brace properly; they ran some scans first to make sure your spine was intact.”

“All of my clothes?” She baulked, and he knew she was upset before she could even say so he stroked his thumb over her hand for good measure, “But my lovely shirt- and the pants they were so cute, weren’t they?”

“They were so cute,” He agreed, even though he thought she looked good in everything.

“And- oh my god they got my bra too?” She asked, wide eyed and horrified like she hadn’t had a building dropped on her, like this was the worst part of her day. Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but he thought better than to tell her it wasn’t a big deal and he was sure Pen could take her shopping for new ones even if the thought of it made his cheeks flush red, “They got the best one, Spencer, that was my best one with the little bows and the lace at the back- fuck,”

She huffed, rubbing her temple in annoyance seemingly completely unaware of the situation she’d put him in, when JJ slowly entered the room, looking more tired and stressed than she had in months, but there was a little glow in her face that washed it all away.

“JJ, they cut off my favourite bra,” Bugsy huffed, holding an arm out for the woman who came to stand at the opposite side of the bed to Spencer, and JJ quickly leaned in to hug her close, Bugsy’s head pressing against her stomach, “It was the only one that fit perfectly, now look at me. Wasted.”

“I can get you another one on Monday after Will and I have stopped by the courthouse,” JJ said, her eyes alight with mischief like she had a secret, and Bugsy frowned, looking up at the woman.

“Why on Earth would Will be buying me- Wait,” The girl stopped, her breath catching in her throat as she took in JJ’s sheepish blush and girlish grin, “Courthouse? You’re getting married!”

JJ’s smile was beaming, and Bugsy yanked her with her one good arm into a side hug, just about as much as her ribcage would allow, and Spencer’s face lit up equally, though he was quick to usher Bugsy back into a resting position so as not to jostle her stitches.

Spencer drove her home that night after she got discharged, and he helped her get settled back into her own bed, her face still a little bitter at the fact her favourite underwear set was “totally mismatched now”; her words, not his. He put a documentary on for the two of them until it was time for some more of the painkillers the doctors had sent her packing with, and she fell asleep pretty quickly after that.

He watched her breaths rising and falling slowly, the sight of her on that stretcher being wheeled into the back of the ambulance flashing in his head like a horror motion picture. Her face had been soaked in blood, her neck in a brace that looked tight enough to crush her, her eyes were weary and dim from what he knew now was the sedative effects of the painkillers.

He’d almost brought up the fact he’d found a geneticist willing to take a look at his MRI scans to help his migraines; almost brought up that she had finally got back to him with results and a plan of vitamins and dietary changes he could make to help ease his flare ups.

Spencer almost mentioned it, but he fell asleep listening to Bugsy’s breaths, checking for irregularities, before he had the chance to.

–

Hot pink did not match ditsy blue whatsoever, she had quickly decided, but the bluebell, floral dress was the only thing she owned long enough to cover the scratches on her legs and arms, and hid the majority of the hideous cast that weighed down her arm.

Spencer had encouraged her not to come to JJ’s ‘engagement party’, had encouraged her to stay at home and sleep; promised her he would rustle up the best chicken soup she’d ever tasted if it meant she would stay on the couch and rest her marred body.

But then Rossi had said he just simply couldn’t let a nice occasion go to waste. A few phone calls later, a drop in the ocean of his wealth and within two days the yard to his stately manor had been turned into a ceremony, the whole arch, pews and altar style.

“You should worry so much, you look lovely,” Spencer softly chided her when he saw her yanking her sleeve further down her arm, trying to cover the hard shell that protected her radius while it healed. She did, despite the fact he had to help her do her eyeliner because she could only do it with her right hand, or that there was still a nasty cut on her forehead that was scabbing up.

She was still beautiful as ever to him. And it made Spencer’s chest sore.

It felt like something had cracked between them since that night she had been dropped to his, her pupils wide as dinner plates, her inhibitions lowered to zero, and had pecked his lips like it wouldn’t tear him up inside to have her so close to him knowing it was everything he had ever wanted.

He knew if she ever kissed him again he couldn’t keep it in anymore, couldn’t stay in this limbo they had found themselves in where all he could think about was how she smelled when she wore his clothes, a mix of his laundry and her skin together, something he’d found himself purely saturated in since she first lived with him after Emily’s funeral. He loved the way her eyes seemed soft and mellow when she looked at him, loved the way his stomach seemed warm and fuzzy when she held his hand, and he knew it wasn’t in the same way it normally was with other people, when he was worried about how many germs they were spreading to him or if they’d had all their shots or if he’d remembered to pack hand sanitizer. His stomach felt funny, and his skin felt sweaty, and his head got scrambled, and it was somehow good.

He would do anything for her, anything she ever wanted from him and it was hers.

He knew it way surpassed friendship. It felt like she was his girlfriend, which was absurd because he had never asked her to be. Or maybe it was just him trying to wish it into existence, because he knew he would never ask her. She was too good for him, too good for this world let alone a scrawny, know-it-all like him.

She simpered under his words, looking at him with tired eyes, though he could tell she still yearned to fluff up her hair or fix her dress because she felt like a polished turd right now.

“Thankyou,” She said quietly, immediately spotting a waiter carrying a tray of champagne passing by and reaching for a little flute, “Want one? Thank you,”

Spencer shook his head politely, quickly spotting Emily and Morgan moving into the garden with Hotch and Beth not far behind them.

“I’ll be right back, just wait here a second,” He said, gently stroking over her spine with his warm hands, before he darted towards the group. Jack took off running towards Bugsy the second he saw her, and Spencer heard the small ‘ooft’ leave the woman as he collided with her stomach and nearly winded her. He was getting bigger by the minute, Spencer swore.

“Don’t you look dashing, boy wonder,” Morgan teased, flicking his finger under the lapel of Spencer’s two piece suit that Bugsy had told him more than once fit him like a glove, “Someone to impress?”

Spencer blanched, his eyes shooting to Emily who seemed to hide a smile, because his feelings for her sister were about as plain to see as the moon that coated their evening in a blue glow. Hotch looked over the younger agent’s shoulder, to where his son was throwing cents into Rossi’s fountain with Bugsy and making wishes, his eyes quickly falling to the pink cast around her wrist, and his face hardened.

“How is she?” He asked, lips pursed.

They had seen her in turns at the hospital, but most of the time she had been extremely out of it, Hotch had managed to catch her right before they took her into surgery for her arm, and even then he’d been ushered right back out of the room because they were getting her prepped to be scrubbed down.

Spencer bit his lip for a second, glancing over his shoulder at Bugsy fishing through her purse with her one good hand for more nickels, before he looked back at them, “She doesn’t want anyone to make a big deal about it, and don’t bring up her arm or her forehead, she’s a little delicate-”

He was cut off by Penelope squealing behind them, and they turned in unison to see the blonde woman cupping Bugsy’s face, checking herself for more abrasions, stroking over the younger girl’s shoulders as she simply allowed herself to be ragged like a doll.

Because it was Penny. And Penny always meant well.

Spencer flustered worriedly, and Morgan chuckled behind him, wrapping an arm over the kid’s shoulder.

“Can’t protect her forever, lover boy,” Derek said, patting him before he let go, taking Emily’s elbow and walking over to where they were serving hors d'oeuvres.

Spencer knew that, knew she could handle herself just fine without him. That was what worried him the most.

–

JJ looked beautiful in her mother’s wedding dress. Bugsy welled up with happiness, true happiness when she saw her friend walking down the aisle with her son, a spitting image of her, in one hand, her father’s arm in the other.

Will looked besotted, but then again he always did when he looked at JJ.

Bugsy felt the love in the entire yard as they said their vows, kissing each other without restraint under the floral arch as Henry covered his eyes with a little giggle and an ‘eww!’ which made everyone chuckle.

The violinists began playing soft hymns as the couple had their first dance, and Henry migrated towards the woman with the pink hand and the sapphire dress.

“Buggy,” He tugged on the bottom of her skirts, huge, sky-blue eyes blinking up at her behind a mop of blonde furls. “Buggy, your hand!”

She knelt down to hear the three year old a little better, and immediately tiny fingers trailed over her wrist worriedly.

“Your hand, it’s hurt,” He said, and Spencer crouched to comfort the boy who he still remembered holding hours after he was born.

“I know, I hurt myself at work,” She said, letting him run his fingers over the pink shelling, his eyes wide and confused about the new material, “But Mommy saved me, and she saved your Daddy, and she saved you, didn’t she? Isn’t she so brave,”

Henry smiled, like all his thoughts of his mommy being Wonder Woman were true, and he nodded, stepped towards Bugsy while making grabby hands for her neck, “Up,”

Spencer was about to protest, because he didn’t want her to push herself, but he knew she could never say no to kids, especially ones as cute as the boys.

“Alright, big man, up we go,” She put her good arm under his bottom, Spencer holding under her shoulder to help her into a stand with a repressed grunt, “Jesus, what did you eat for breakfast today. You really are a big boy, Henry,”

She put him on her hip, shoving off the way it stung her superficial cuts because Henry seemed happy, grabbing a section of her hair in his tiny hands, and stroking her head gently in what Bugsy guessed was the way JJ stroked his when he was unwell.

“Mommy says you have to have a magic kiss when you get hurt,” Henry babbled, and she smiled, her cheeks hurting because the kid was just sweet enough to eat.

“Oh, yeah? Is mommy magic then?” She entertained, feeling Spencer still a ghost over her shoulder in case she started struggling to hold the pre-schooler. His godson laughed like she told a joke, shaking his golden locks as he answered.

“No, Buggy,” He giggled, patting her cheek as she scrunched eyes shut with a smile, “You get a magic kiss when you get fixed. Like this,” He leaned in, leaving a big wet smooch on her cheek that made her giggle, tightening her hold on him with a shiny jaw. Henry turned to where Spencer watched them with a dazzling smile, pointing up at him, little fingernails waving in his face, “Spencer’s turn,”

His godfather faltered, his cheeks turning red and Bugsy looked between the two of them, amused.

“I can’t, I’m afraid Henry. I’m not magic like you and mommy,” Spencer replied, trying to brush the boy off as kindly as possible. Henry’s face frowned, because he had watched Uncle Spencer pull a coin out of his ear not even half an hour ago and so that statement seemed ridiculous.

“You have to! You have to give her magic kisses or she won't get better!” Henry ordered, trying to grab Spencer’s bow tie with vigour, “You have to!”

“Alright, alright,” Spencer agreed, his hands shooting up in surrender, “I’ll give her magic kisses,”

Bugsy looked at him with a heart stopping smile. She looked soft like butter, syrupy and warm as pudding. The moonlight washed her pupils with something like a cartoonish twinkle, and he hoped his forest eyes didn’t turn to two love hearts the way he felt like it did.

He raised one of his hands to her cheek, the same one Henry just kissed, holding her still. She was cool in the night air, or maybe his hand was just too warm because he was so nervous. He hoped he wasn’t shaking, but her jaw fit into the palm of his hand like it was always meant to be there.

He dipped his head in to give her a long, delicate kiss to her cheek, running a thumb down the apple of her cheek.

He pulled away from her, and they exchanged a look, something in her eyes he had rarely seen before. Figuring it was discomfort, or maybe just the light playing tricks on him, he stepped away, and Henry was quickly distracted by a frog hopping through the mildewed grass, and he set Bugsy on the task to help him catch it.

Spencer busied himself talking to Will and Derek in the hopes his heart would calm down any minute soon, but he had quickly felt himself becoming somewhat addicted to the feel of her skin beneath his lips. He wondered lewdly if the rest of her would feel so soft as her cheek had, and immediately scolded himself for it.

The thought haunted him for the rest of the night.

Penny twirled her around by her good arm, and the two of them giggled like school girls under the fairy-light woven pergola, the string quartet finishing off the fast paced song they had switched up the mood with. The blonde was careful about not jostling the woman too much, she could already feel Spencer and Emily’s worried looks from where they sat together at a table, nursing their drinks mid chat.

But whether it was the fact she had been cooped up for days on bed rest orders (Spencer’s, not the Doctor’s, though he’d argued that was the same thing,) or that last morphine patch had really given her a kick up the behind, but she seemed to be hiding the pain well.

JJ would only have one wedding, she’d argued with Spencer, she could have a hundred days in bed, but there would only be one night like this one; when they were all together, safe and happy, when there was enough palpable love in the air that fell over everyone's shoulders like a warm hug. He’d grumbled that he was usually the optimistic one and zipped up her dress for her with shaky fingers anyway.

Before Penny could spin her round even one more time, a figure appeared two tower over the blonde, and a voice cut in between them politely.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me lead the next dance, I think Reid and Prentiss might just tackle you if you shake her up anymore,” Aaron’s voice was soft, inviting with the one and a half beers he’d had edging at his tone, almost teasing in a way so rare for a man so stern.

Penelope looked over Bugsy’s shoulder to indeed see the woman’s two guard dogs watching her like a hawk, Bug’s already opened purse on Spencer lap where her emergency painkillers were.

“Oh god, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Spencer frown like that, it’s like watching a puppy resource guarding,” Penelope faltered, looking the woman head to toe as if she was being held against her will to dance by the blonde, “You’re not hurt or anything- you’d tell me if you were hurt, wouldn’t you?”

Bugsy chuckled, throwing her good arm over the woman’s shoulder, “Relax, they’re both worry warts. I’m having fun, Pen. I think Hotch just wanted a turn with the ugly barbie,”

Against Penelope’s better judgement, she gave the woman a kiss on the cheek with a sigh of defeat, though she had been so careful not to push her in fear of her cracking another rib, but she had loved seeing Bugsy smile like that again.

Derek was quick to swoop in to save her, swooping in to steal her for a dance as Aaron gently took Bugsy’s waist and good hand, entirely respectable and gentle in his touch.

“I’m glad you’re okay, your bell got a little rung in that bank,” Aaron murmured, trying not to fret over the gash on her forehead that had a few butterfly stitches pulling it together. He remembered how frail she’d felt in his arms the last time he’d properly seen her, like a baby bird with its wings snapped in his hands. He was worried he was going to be burying her too, just like he had Emily, just like he had Haley, except he knew for her there wasn’t a catch, an escape route to Paris. There wouldn’t have been a do over.

But she was okay. Broken bones and all.

She smiled at him, as if to remind him just how alive she was, and he saw how her eyes were bloodshot and tired, as if it was taking all of her energy to keep her head upright.

“If you knew how many morphine patches are on my butt right now, you’d freak,” She said, and he laughed, because she was always good at getting those from him. Bugsy relaxed in his arms, and he rocked her side to side sweetly, not quite dancing but moving passively to the soft melody the band was playing.

Maybe it was the fact he wasn’t in work mode, or maybe it was because the night air was cosy and light, or maybe she just weaselled out the guilt that had been stored in his chest for nearly a year, but he let himself look at her with a sad, sepia gaze, and it was like she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“I’m-”

“Don’t apologise,” She cut in quickly, her own expression falling into something forlorn, “You have nothing to apologise for, Aaron,”

He took a deep breath through his nose, “I do. That wasn’t right how I treated you. You’re not spoiled.”

“I can be, sometimes,” She argued defeatedly, but he shook his head before she could add to it, “You were doing what was best to keep Emily safe, it was her I was more mad at than anything. She’s my sister, she should have trusted me, you and JJ didn’t owe me anything.”

“We owed you a better explanation than we gave,” He said, watching her sigh and rest her cheek on his shoulder. He cursed Spencer for allowing her to wear heels in her condition, though he didn’t doubt that the pretty boy had put up just as much fight as he would have seeing her grab the shoes on her way out, “I never meant to hurt you so much. And we do owe you better, we’re a family. Families fight, and they say mean things and they tell white lies sometimes but we love each other, and I only ever wanted to keep everyone safe. Okay?”

She nodded against his blazer material, dropping his hand in the interest of wrapping both her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug, ignoring the dulled ache of her ribcage.

“I love you too,” She murmured, and he gave her a feather-light squeeze back, all too aware of her bones creaking under her skin, “I’m sorry I hit you,”

She let go of him, and he held her hand, the tips of her fingers poking out from beneath her cast that already had Jack’s name scrawled over in black sharpie.

“I deserved it, I was being cruel,” He said honestly. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but the emptiness in her laugh, in the way she’d stormed out, had scared him. He thought even if she lashed out, if she screamed at him or cried that would be better than the silent treatment because at least then he would know where she stood with him. But instead he had driven the knife in deeper, and for that he couldn’t say he blamed her for it, “I’ve had worse, much worse. Maybe you’re not as tough as you think,”

She baulked, and realised he was teasing her, “Maybe we could go round two Monday morning, I bet it would hurt a lot having a hard plaster cast swung at your face,”

“For me or for you?” She smacked his arm with her good hand, and it made him chuckle again, and soon she was laughing too, resting her head back onto his shoulder comfortably, “I’m glad you’re okay, Bug,”

“Did you not hear where I put those morphine patches? I could paper mache with those bastards,”

And they danced between chuckles for another half an hour.

–

“Wait, wait, you’re going to compress her spine,” Derek stopped, Bugsy dipped at his waist where he was supporting her full weight because she’d complained she missed dancing with Penelope. She hated people walking on eggshells around her, and if anyone was going to have fun with her who could still make sure she was safe, it was Derek.

The woman grinned up at him, Derek’s hands safely around her waist and not pressing on her ribs whatsoever, though she had to admit she was ready for another dose of painkillers after a few hours of dancing between Hotch, then to JJ who had swiftly been taken over by Henry who wanted to be lifted high enough he could hold Bugsy’s hands like he had seen the others doing. David had even entertained her with a very slow three step waltz, until Derek had been her next target because he seemed to be having the most fun whirling Emily around the dance floor.

“Spencer!” She said and Morgan returned her to full height once he saw Reid’s fretful expression. She pouted, “Spencer, I was having fun,”

“You know what’s fun? Eating cake is fun, drinking water is fun, resting on the couch is fun,” He said, and Morgan was quick to hand the baby Prentiss over to Reid who rifled around his pocket to produce the tablet version of her buprenorphine, “You need more medicine or it’s going to hurt worse in the morning, remember? Getting ahead of the pain?”

She sighed, nodding, and before he could pop two out of the shiny, metal coated tray, she stopped him, “Wait, dance with me first,”

He looked at her incredulously, eyes softening when she stepped closer to him, her hand coming over the top of his to push the pain killers away, “It’s going to hurt more if you don’t get ahead of it now,”

“I know, I know,” She muttered, nodding docilely, “Look, I promise if you just dance with me a little now, I’ll have my meds and take it easy for the rest of the night, no questions asked,”

He looked unconvinced, because she was known to put up a fight when it came to doing something she didn’t want to.

She sighed, “If I sit down now, I know I won’t be getting back up again for the rest of the night, and I wanted to enjoy myself until I couldn’t anymore,”

Spencer looked at her pleading puppy dog eyes, and broke almost embarrassingly fast, letting her follow his hand into his pocket, putting the drugs away and letting her take his now free hand in his own.

“I’ll have it known I tried to stop this when this catches up to you and you have to go lay down on Rossi’s spare bed,” He argued back, but felt his stomach flip when she laced her fingers with his, pushing herself closer to him as a means of drawing him out of his grumpy mood.

“He has more than enough, just dance with me,” She brushed his attitude off, wrapping her plaster-cast over his shoulder.

He took her waist gently, feeling the plush, softness of her hips and wishing the heat away from his cheeks. She looked divine under the fairy lights, ready to be whisked away by sleep yes, but the sleepy blinks added to her charm, and she was soft and pliant under his touch like a tame cat ready to curl up on his chest.

“I had so much fun,” She said, meeting his adoring gaze, probably because he couldn’t drag his eyes away from her. He nodded, worrying then if his hair was sitting right or if hid bowtie needed straightening. She was a goddess in his arms, the colour of her dress matching her skin beautifully, a few wisps of hair falling over her eyes from where Penny had damn near done the quick step with her.

She looked like a dream.

“I never thanked you for everything you did for me when Emily was-” She gulped, her eyes suddenly down turned, like she couldn’t admit anything to the hazel of his eyes, not when they looked at her like that. “You were the only thing I had for a very long time, and I never really said how much it all meant to me,”

“You’re my best friend, I’m always going to be there for you,” He said, lovingly stroking a thumb over her skin, his voice tender as this touch, “That’s what friends are for,”

Even though he was sure he’d never felt this way about any of his friends before, even the tiny crush he’d had on JJ for all of two weeks when he’d first started at the BAU didn’t even make a mark on how she got his chest hammering like a jackrabbit.

Her face flickered with something he couldn’t read, and she nodded, “Right. Friends.” She swallowed heavily.

She slumped against him, like the wind had been taken out of her, her head on his shoulder, but it felt nothing like when she had danced with Hotch.

It felt like everything she’d ever wanted was right in her grasp, like the one person who made her feel whole again was pressed against her, stroking down her spine with an affection she could swear blind was nothing like she’d ever felt before. Like the only air she knew how to breathe was filling her lungs, every note of fresh linen, the hair gel he sometimes used to tame his curls, down to the faint smell of his apartment, so filled with books the smell of worn leather and thin paper seeped into his clothes.

She couldn’t remember who she was before she knew Spencer. She felt like she’d always known him.

He wasn’t just her friend, he was every bit of her that she wasn’t. Every ugly part of her that had always felt so alone, like loneliness was just ingrained into her since birth that seemed to jump up in a strange feeling of longing and home whenever he was near.

She let herself revel in his arms as long as she could, because she knew it was so illicit to be feeling so hungry for something she couldn’t have. She knew he was too good for her; she had never deserved any scrap of kindness he gave her. She could be mean, and rude, and loud, and ugly, and spiteful and he was everything she wasn’t. He was kind, and sweet, and gentle, and loving, and he didn’t deserve someone like her; he deserved so much better.

Bugsy let herself stay against his chest for a while longer, slowly swaying with him under the moonlight as JJ and Will took each other in their arms; a couple that fit together, Bugsy thought, two people who were so right for one another. Who deserved their happiness.

And so she selfishly let herself pretend she could have him as long as she could, silently dancing together under the pergola, until she agreed to go sit down because she would never admit that the ache in her side had started to seep back in, and he fussed over her some more and she told him he was being silly, but she preened under his affections anyway.

They’d reached a stalemate, Spencer would have probably called it.

Bugsy knew she shouldn’t want him, but she did. She shouldn’t want him because he was the pretty boy, the sweetheart that sat untainted by everything he’d seen and endured, the one who had jumped and cleared every hurdle life had thrown at him where she had fallen flat. He had gotten better on his own after Hankel; she had crashed and burned and taken nearly everyone with her. He was strong, and she was weak. She shouldn’t want him, it was selfish, but she did.

Spencer knew he couldn’t have her, because she was beyond anything he had ever dreamed of, beyond his best friend, beyond the girl who kissed him and didn’t ever want to talk about it again. He couldn’t have her because she was still healing, still wounded and vulnerable and rattled from barely recovering her relationship with her sister before she’d had a bank dropped on top of her. It would be wrong, it would be selfish, she would never want some scrawny kid from a shitty home where he was beaten up by girls even smaller than him and wedgied so hard he had to follow the librarian to class. He was a nobody. He couldn’t have her because she deserved so much better, but he wanted her.

They sat at a stalemate for a few weeks longer, until Emily got a job offer in London, and she asked Bugsy to take an internship at Interpol one of her old associates had sent to her. Twelve weeks learning how international databases worked, even some forensic work for Scotland Yard if she played her cards right.

And she took it; without much warning she took it, even if not to give herself some breathing space from how much her chest pined to be back in Spencer’s arms she had that night.

Bugsy headed to London, and didn’t look back.

2. The one with Maeve

Four Months. Bugsy had been in England for four months.

At first, they had called regularly, almost every other day, except the days she was just too tired to stay up until two am to call him when he got home. They had spent an hour on the phone at least; she had asked about the team, the cases, if he missed her yet which he always told her to knock it off because of course he missed her, and he had asked about London, and what England was like, and how Emily was doing.

Until around two months in when her schedule had changed to night shifts, and they could only ever communicate by texts, at which point he had been the one struggling to talk because he had no clue how to work his phone. She had called the odd time on her half an hour lunch break, but it was always rushed, never consistent, usually ending up with her excusing herself and hanging up on him fast because she was needed urgently somewhere else.

Cynically enough, the only time she could ever call was Sundays. Sundays when he was already busy, Sundays when he was admittedly on the phone, only he wasn’t talking to her.

He was talking to Maeve.

The geneticist he had been ready to tell her all about before JJ’s wedding, who had all but cleared up his migraines within a few sessions, who had asked him three days after Bugsy had flown out what had made his head flare up again and so he’d told her. Told her his best friend moved to another country temporarily, that he missed her and had been looking after her cats for her while she was gone because her new landlord wouldn’t let them have pets. And it had spiralled from there, she had asked more about the rest of his life, and he had asked about hers, and suddenly they weren’t just talking about his migraines anymore, they were flirting.

He hadn’t told Maeve that he was in love with said friend who had taken a great opportunity with both hands and fled the second she could. He couldn’t hold it against her, not when he was choosing his calls with Maeve over the only chance he had to speak to Bugsy, and four months really wasn’t that long in the scheme of things.

That was what he’d tried telling himself at least. He missed her more than anything, and the only thing that he’d found combatted the sting of her being gone was Maeve.

Maeve; who he had never seen, whose voice was sweet and alluring, who got his humour the way girls rarely ever did (besides Bug ofcourse). Who liked what he liked, and could talk his ear off about what she’d been reading, and about her day in the lab.

She was Bugsy in every other font, every other manner, and best of all she liked him. She told him weeks ago she liked him, that she wanted to date him, that he was her dream guy.

Call him a cynic for enjoying having a chance with someone, then that’s what he was.

Life since he had tried pushing away his unrequited feelings for one Prentiss girl had been going swimmingly. He liked their new team mate, Alex Blake, the brilliant linguist who warmed to him quite quickly; he had a girl at his heels who returned his feelings, who was everything he always said he looked for in a partner, even without having ever seen her face, and he was rather enjoying having Nico and Sergio around to keep him company.

But as it always did, the contented limbo he’d found himself in where he might actually be able to get a girlfriend came to a screeching halt on Sunday afternoon when he was stepping outside at three forty-five, readying himself for the ten minute walk to the nearest phone booth for their call at four pm on the dot. He had just about locked his front door, turning on his heel with his scarf draped over his shoulders when he had collided with someone’s chest.

“Oh I’m so- Bugsy?”

“Spencer!” She smiled at him wider than she ever had before, and she threw her arms over his shoulders because he had never protested to her affection before, “It’s so good to see you- I missed you so much, there’s so much I have to tell you-”

“What are you doing here?” It sounded like a confrontation, though he hadn’t meant it that way, just that he hadn’t been expecting her back for another two weeks at least and he certainly hadn’t expected to see her today, right before he was about to go call the girl he was sort of seeing, sort of not.

She bristled at his tone, because he didn’t sound nearly as happy to see her as she had expected. Pulling away, she realised he hadn’t even bothered to hug her back, and she tried to shove away the embarrassment that she’d never ever felt in front of him before.

“I- just- I wanted to surprise you. Interpol said I could finish early since I’d finished all my paperwork and could take the exams online in a few weeks,” She stammered, feeling uncharacteristically stuck for what to say. He flicked a look down to his wrist, his brows furrowed like she was taking up too much time, “Is something wrong, did I do something wrong?”

“No, you just-” He breathed heavily out of his nose, running a hand through his hair, “I’m late for something,”

“I’ll drive you!” She jumped at the chance, fishing for her keys in her pocket, “Car’s right out front, I sort of just threw it there because I wanted to see you,”

“I’m walking,” He said, in that frustrated tone again and she stopped looking at her jacket, her eyes snapping to his as he looked past her like she was in his way.

“O-okay, well then do you want company?” She said, her bag heavy with the souvenir she got him, though now it seemed to be weighing her down.

“It’s sort of personal,” He replied shortly, like she was a stranger selling him something on his doorstep, when really he was just cursing his luck that the girl he’d spent months trying to get over was here in front of him like someone was waving a bone in his face and he was a pup being told to sit. He was cursing the fact that he had spent hours and hours dreaming of the minute he’d see her again and she had showed up out of the blue after weeks of little to no communication like a damn hallucination of the senses.

She stopped then, her face contorting into a frown, “Is everything okay, are you sure I didn’t do anything-”

“You could have called, I’m kind of busy, Bugsy,” Spencer replied, even though he knew he was being unreasonable. It wasn’t her fault she was unravelling all of his progress just by being there. He thought he was finally getting over her, and with one whiff of her perfume, of her shampoo mixed with her natural scent, he was remembering just how in love with her he had been just a few months ago, like Pavlov’s fucking dog.

Her face fell then, into something kicked and hurt, “Sorry- my phone died on the plane, I didn’t even think, I just- I just wanted to see you,”

He faltered, the frustration leaking out of him, but before he could really say much else, she’d taken a step away, swung around to head for the stairs, “Sorry, I’ll call next time, sorry I got in your way, Spence,”

And she sounded genuine, not annoyed like he would expect for someone who’d been spoken to like trash. The guilt seeped in almost immediately, but then his mind ticked over the minutes he had left until Maeve would be expecting a call. Nine minutes now, he would need to speed walk.

He could make it up to Bugsy as soon as he was done with the girl who was almost her but not.

–

Spencer felt like an idiot. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the look on her face when she had left his apartment, nor had he not stopped chiding himself for not heading straight out after her.

His phone call with Maeve hadn’t gone how he’d expected, which would have been the only thing soothing the burn of his scathing tone, except she had hung up rather abruptly after he had suggested they meet up, something that had played on his mind for weeks now.

“Are you being safe?” He asked, the payphone hard and cold in his hand as he pressed it to his ear.

She chuckled softly down the phone, a sound that would have made his heart flutter if he hadn’t been feeling so wound up about seeing Bugsy, “Yes, I’m being safe,”

“Do you think he knows about us?” Spencer dared to ask after a moment of silence, because he could tell it was worrying her too. He wondered if the two of them would be dating by now if it wasn’t for the fact she had a stalker who may or may not turn his attention to Spencer if he realised they were seeing one another.

“No, as far as I can tell he doesn’t,” She said, her voice slightly more rigid than what he was used to. Her voice was always honey smooth when they spoke, and Spencer had more than enough time to wonder if it ever matched what she looked like. “And we need to keep it that way,”

The line went dead, and with it the only thing that he’d been telling himself was worth hurting his best friend even the tiniest bit went with it.

Spencer felt like an asshole. He’d tried calling Bugsy’s phone, then when she hadn’t answered he’d tried asking Penelope, who said she’d gone to visit JJ, Will and Henry since he was too busy.

At least that would have lightened her mood, he hoped, as he walked into the office Monday morning, and saw her at her desk, already chatting to Penelope with Derek’s arm around her shoulder.

She was all smiles today, pretty much how she had looked yesterday before he had all but kicked her out, and the sinking feeling in his chest tripled when she looked past Penelope’s shoulder and saw him. Her eyes wavered for a second, head turning downwards as if she hadn’t properly spotted him,

“Pretty boy! Look who it is,” Derek called him over, even though he was already speed walking and he stopped in front of her, looking her head to toe for the first time fully.

He realised then her hair was slightly different, that she’d had it cut shorter since the last time he’d seen her, that she’d gotten a new ear piercing. It made her look older, more mature than when he’d last seen her, or maybe he had just not seen her in so long. Maybe he just hadn’t bothered, he thought painfully.

“I saw him yesterday,” Bugsy said, and he felt caught immediately, Penelope’s head whipping to him, “He was kinda busy though, weren’t you, Spence? More of a passing visit.”

She sounded indifferent to yesterday’s rudeness, like it hadn’t really phased her despite the fact he’d seen for his own eyes the way her expression dropped.

“I was- I had an appointment,” He said, because he felt the need to explain himself even if he couldn’t.

She smiled at him, something dampened and fake, “I leave for a few months and suddenly boy wonder is too busy to talk to me, what is the world coming to,” She joked, and Spencer felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, though Penny and Derek laughed.

“No, really, I had an appointment-” He tried to reason, but Penelope stopped him before he could fret too much, his hands wringing and he tried to lie on the spot without getting caught.

“She’s just kidding, Spence, don’t worry,” Pen shook him off warmly, quickly grabbing Bugsy’s arm tightly, the faint scar where she’d had her surgery trailing up her skin, “Now, to my bat cave, where we can talk all about just how good British guys are in bed without the boy germs getting all over our gossip,”

Bugsy laughed, allowing herself to be pulled along, right past Spencer without a second glance, despite the fact he looked like he was about to throw up.

Why hadn’t he thought about that? Why hadn’t he considered for a second that she would meet anyone, if not seriously, then for a one night stand? What if all those nights she was too busy to talk she had been with someone, someone much cooler and hotter and overall more experienced than he was. He was thirty years old and he had only ever slept with two women, one being Austin the bartender she’d told him to go after despite him lingering around her the whole night, the other being a girl he’d met in O’Keeffes after a hard case when he had been a few months sober, wanting anything, anyone, to take his mind away from going back to the little vial of trouble.

How could he be so stupid? Of course she’d be hooking up with other people. She was young and gorgeous and smart as a whip and single. She’d be any guy's dream.

He knew he was being so, so disgustingly hypocritical. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Maeve for months, and yet here he was seething with jealousy at the very thought of Bugsy being with someone who could love her without feeling guilty for loving her.

Spencer swallowed his pride and set his stuff down on his desk, watching Penelope grab Alex and drag her to her bat cave on her way, the older woman lighting up at the fact she was meeting the Bugsy Prentiss.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and felt a migraine start to ache behind his eyes.

–

“Alex- Blake, where are you going?” Spencer called, shoving his cell in his back pocket as he jogged toward the woman about to climb into the SUV.

Sure enough, Bugsy had been back in the office for one hour before they were getting pulled into another case, and she was more than happy to jump in to help with her new found skills in Interpol.

It was a gruesome case, which was saying something for all the shit they’d seen. The UnSub was amputating legs off one victim to then put onto his next one. There had been one guy waking up in his hotel room with both legs missing below the knee, then another gentleman had walked into an ER room with legs that weren’t his own attached to his sockets.

It made Bugsy’s skin crawl, but that was simply a day's work for them. They were at the most recent victim’s body; a woman who seemed to have been too weak to survive the surgery had been dumped on the street with her limbs switched to someone else’s. They had at least one other victim they hadn’t found yet, the girl thought darkly.

“Hotch called, he wants us back at the station ASAP,” The woman replied, Bugsy at her side.

“Can you give me a ride to 5th and Main, it’s on the way?” Spencer asked, trying his hardest to ignore the frown the youngest Prentiss gave him, confusion written across her face.

“Uh, yeah sure. What’s at 5th and Main?” Alex asked, also confused as to what was so pressing he needed to side track their case.

“I need to talk to somebody,” He replied shortly, the same cut off tone he’d used with Bugsy just the day before, and Alex faltered.

“Yeah, uh, okay. Sure.” She agreed, not wanting to rock the boat considering she was still so new to the BAU. She looked over at Bugsy, who seemed disgruntled as she headed for the passenger side, Spencer climbing into the back of the SUV with a troubled look on his face when their eyes met in the rear-view mirror.

“You’re coming with us?” He asked, looking on edge when he saw she’d gotten into their car and not into JJ’s like she had on their way over there.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Bugsy asked, and he shrugged, playing with his fingertips in his lap.

“No, that’s fine, I just didn’t know you were coming with us,” He replied shortly, his face starting to warm when he realised how rude he’d sounded. He heard her sigh, and look out the window with no more protest in her.

Alex didn’t ask questions as she put the handbrake down, perhaps sensing the tension in the car between the two agents, and she didn’t need to be a profiler to tell there was either a lot unsaid between them or maybe even words that no one could take back.

Either way she did as he’d asked, because Bugsy hadn’t actually protested, just bit at her fingernails that said she was thinking too hard, and stepped on the gas.

–

The car pulled around to where a dimly lit payphone sat, empty and looking like it hadn’t been used in years. Which it probably hadn’t, besides as a dog urinal.

Alex stopped the car, and Spencer was already opening the door before she could even put it into neutral, “Do you want us to wait?”

“Uh, you know what, it might take a while, so I’ll just get a cab back,” He said, his tone clipped and leaving little room for questions. He felt Bugsy staring at him in confusion from the front seat, and he avoided her gaze like the plague, even if there was something sad in them that he was being so distant. “Thanks anyway,” He hopped out the car slamming the door shut, and digging through his pocket for change as he headed for the payphone.

Alex drove off, and he felt his chest get lighter for it, because he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the act.

He hated lying, especially to her. Every morsel of his being writhed in discontent whenever he would lie, like the truth was just begging to slip out one way or another, and he knew he would only feel all the more guilty for it as soon as the case was over and he couldn’t avoid her eyes that haunted him like a wraith or her touch that seemed to have been kept to herself since he had snubbed her hug at his doorway.

He knew he was pulling away, knew she was doing the same thing, and he hated it.

Bugsy sat in the car, her face moody as anything as she glared out the window and Alex took the corner around the block.

“So is it usually like this between you two?” Alex dared to ask, her food steady on the pedal, “The lingering looks, the awkward silences? From what Penelope told me, the two of you are as close as can be,”

“Yeah, usually we are,” Bugsy replied coldly, and within a second she was unplugging her seatbelt, “In fact, pull back around the block. I’m done with him being an asshole without an explanation.”

Alex felt like she had just pulled a pin from her grenade with her delicate question, though she had meant entirely well, and did as the girl told her to, worried just what might blow up in her face if she didn’t.

Spencer had already dialled the number he knew off by heart, with or without his eidetic memory, by the time they pulled around.

His face dropped, knowing the returning call would be coming any minute now and he just hoped Maeve wasn’t too worried about him. But he had no time to think about her, because the second he saw Bugsy getting out of the car he could tell she was pissed.

Pissed in a way she had never been with him, but then he supposed, he had never treated her like that either.

“I’m going to give you one chance to tell me the truth, Spencer, because I’m tired of the clipped responses and the pushing me away,” She said, walking over to him like he owed her money. Which he didn’t. But he did owe her a good explanation as to what the hell was going on with them, “Did I do something? You can tell me if I’m an asshole, I know I can be an asshole, but you have to tell me so I can fix it-”

“You haven’t done anything, Bug, just please get back in the car,” Spencer cut her off, which was clearly the wrong move as he saw her brow raise at him.

“Something’s not right, Spencer,” Alex agreed, though she held back because hurricane Bugsy seemed to be more than enough intimidation for the guy, “What’s the deal?”

“What do you mean? Why did you guys come back?” He rushed, because he could feel his face warming, and he played with his fingertips like he did when he was struggling.

“Don’t answer a question with a question,” Bugsy chided, and he rubbed his palm with his thumb self-soothingly, and that was what tripped him up. Her eyes zeroed on his hands, looking back up at him and he almost went white at the predicament he’d found himself in, “You’re lying about something,”

“No, I’m not, I would never lie to you-” She pulled his hands apart, looking at him with hurt written across her soft features.

“Bullshit, I know when you’re lying, Spencer, or did you just forget that we’re best friends. That seems to mean nothing to you nowadays,” She snapped, and he could only look back at the phone booth, knowing that she would be calling any second now, “Are you even listening to me?”

Her tone was hurt, wounded, because he had to admit he was being inconsiderate.

“A while back, I found a geneticist that helped clear up my migraines, and we stayed in touch while you were in London,” He said, because that was all true, and she couldn’t call him a liar again if he was telling the truth.

“So? What does that have to do with the case,” Alex prompted, her own face scrunched in ire as he hopped around the subject.

“I think maybe my friend may be able to see something we’ve missed.” Spencer rushed out, his eyes puppy like as he willed Bugsy to stop looking so damn betrayed.

“You have four of the best minds I know back at the station, you have a woman with a biochemistry master's standing in front of you who dabbled in medicine for fun, but you need your friend for help?” Alex responded, because there was no way he was getting out of the hole he’d dug himself if she had anything to say about it. She too, as new to the team as she was, had no time for secrets on a job where trust meant everything.

“I know, but sometimes a different perspective helps me think better, okay?” He replied, his hand itching to take his palm back because he knew it still wasn’t the full truth.

Bugsy scoffed, crossing her arms over one another, and shifting her weight to one foot.

“You’re being ambiguous, you always do that when you’re lying,” She muttered, loud enough for him to hear and he gulped, turning his head to the ground.

“All of this begs a bigger question, why did you ask me to bring you?” Alex asked, because she was thinking the same thing.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Spencer said, but his spine straightened impossibly when the payphone began ringing, and he seemed skittish like a naughty school child.

“You could have asked JJ or Morgan to drive you, but you asked me. You had a problem with Bugsy coming, because you didn’t think she’d be with us, so what’s the deal? Why me?” Alex pushed, and Spencer flustered, his head whipping around to where the high pitched chime continued, and he knew she didn’t have much time before the line went dead.

“Alex, please,” Spencer begged, feeling Bugsy’s eyes boring into the side of his head as he avoided her gaze like the plague.

“Just answer the question,” Bugsy bit out, because she was sick of being ignored all day, of being treated like she was contaminated or like he had never known her a day in his life. Not when she had flown on the first plane back to see him because she missed him more than she could ever tell him.

Not when she had been racing up the stairs to his apartment, her souvenir in her bag, the words on the foreword written in her own hand ready to tell him how she felt.

Because she knew it, after weeks of not seeing him, hours of just missing him and the few texts back and forth, she knew it. She knew she had to tell him, even if they had to brush it under the rug to be friends again, even if it was a shot in the dark she had to tell him.

She couldn’t choke it down anymore.

Only when she’d gotten there, thrown her arms around him, he almost felt like a stranger beneath her hand, almost felt like he never even knew her.

Spencer sighed heavily, looking at Alex because he thought he might just crack if he looked at Bugsy when he said it.

“Because I didn’t want them to know about her, alright?”

And she knew it then, knew it by the way he’d softened entirely when he said her, the way he seemed to melt just by thinking of her, the way he cowered into taking a step back towards the phone booth. It wasn’t just his geneticist, it was someone else entirely. Someone so much more to him.

Bugsy felt a lump in her throat, and she forced with all her might to not let her eyes well with tears. Because friends didn’t feel like they’d been sucker punched in the gut at hearing they were seeing someone else. Friends didn’t feel an all consuming jealousy writhe under their skin at the idea of them being with someone who wasn’t them, feeling something for someone who wasn’t them.

That wasn’t what just friends did.

And Bugsy thought with horror, as he picked up the phone and spoke in hushed, gentle tones that he once did with her, that they might never be friends again.

3. The one with their first date

Things were weird. Really weird. And painful. Really, really fucking painful.

Bugsy and Spencer had never been like this, never been so cold besides the first time they’d ever met, and even then she had warmed him from the inside out. She was sharing her sharlotka within hours of even knowing him, never even knowing he was knee deep in an addiction he was struggling to face alone, and that she had made him feel better than he had in weeks with her smile and her kindness and her quick witted brain.

Things were strange between them, and it was becoming noticeable too.

She boarded the jet behind Alex, the woman taking a seat next to Hotch at the table, the only other seat left being next to Reid, who stopped midway through what he was saying.

“It’s difficult to lure most people from the security of their own homes, eighty four percent of stalking victims have some sort of original connection with their stalkers, meaning-” He paused, and so did she for a fraction of a second, debating whether to sit beside him. She straightened quickly, dipping her head down and looking to the floor, and bristling past the empty seat to sit herself next to JJ on the couch.

He cleared his throat, trying to look like his face hadn’t dropped in hurt, and continued.

Hotch and JJ exchanged a look, the same silent message reading clear in their eyes.

The blonde looked up from her file as the others chatted, Penelope piping up from their computer, and glanced at the younger woman who was unpacking her things on her lap, despite there being a perfectly good table next to them.

“You alright, Bug?” JJ asked, trying not to seem too worried, yet she knew she was coming off troubled by the tense behaviour from the pair of them.

It had been three weeks of this, the silences, the uncomfortable pauses, the avoiding each other at all costs. The only time they ever really spoke was on a case, when they were closing in on an UnSub and their feelings had to be put to one side for the moment. Well, her feelings. Because all of his feelings were occupied as of the moment. With Maeve.

She couldn’t stomach talking about the woman anymore, couldn’t stand Derek’s teasing remarks about how lover boy was getting lucky, or Penelope’s thousands and one questions about the geneticist that she knew had come from a place of care, or Alex’s motherly guidance on his love life. The entire thing made her feel queasy, and she stayed quiet most days in the way he’d always hated, the way he’d always tried to pry her out of.

But nowadays he didn’t bother. Didn’t bother much with her at all, really.

“Yep,” Bugsy said, her lips tight, “Peachy,”

JJ knew not to ask any more than that.

–

Human marionettes were a first for her, she had to admit. They had already found two victims stuffed into boxes with craft paper surrounding them, their limbs almost entirely broken out of their sockets ante-mortem. It was a time sensitive case, with two deaths in three days and no sign of slowing down, and so that meant that of course the two brains of the team were assigned together, even if Hotch saw the way her face dropped when he’d said it.

She was drawing the geographical profile on the board, the squeaking of the marker against the screen the only sound in the room aside from Spencer’s flicking of pages.

“Did you get the first dump site?” He asked, even though he knew she more than likely would have done.

“Mhm,” She said, not bothering to actually say anything, because it was a stupid question she knew he was only asking to fill the awkward silence between them.

“What about the store that sold the outfits, did you get-” He started, only for her to cut him off with a clipped tone.

“Got it, and I got the radius around the store, and I got the second dumpsite.” Bugsy replied, capping the lid to the marker pen and setting it down on the desk beside him, “I’m going to get coffee. Want one?”

Though she didn’t stick around long enough to really hear his response. She simply waltzed out of the room to the tiny kitchenette the police station had to offer, in search of anything that would keep her occupied and away from snapping at him.

What had she really got to be mad at him for? For getting a girlfriend? For rubbing it in everyone's face how happy she made him, how perfectly suited she was for him? Except she didn’t think that last one was necessarily true, it just felt that way because it cut her so deep to hear about the girl who was everything she wanted to be. She had no right to be mad at him for anything except being distant with her since she got back from London.

She still made him a coffee half heartedly, swirling in a tonne of sugar the way she knew he would like, because he never changed being so perfectly him in the time she was away.

She used to tell him he didn’t need all that sugar because he was sweet enough as he was, because it was true. He used to be entirely honeyed and saccharine when he spoke to her, now she was lucky if she got a full good morning.

Bugsy bit her lip to stop it from quivering, and took the mugs back to the tiny office they were stationed in, seeing Alex at the door and hearing half their conversation.

“Is this about, uh, phone booth girl?” Blake asked, and Bugsy wanted to snap because what else would they be talking about. Her name was Maeve, she wanted to snarl, Maeve, Maeve, Maeve, Queen of the Fairies and of Spencer’s heart, Maeve, Maeve, Maeve.

She never hated a name so viscerally, though she knew in deep down it wasn’t her fault. Maeve didn’t do anything wrong, she just fell in love with Dr Spencer Reid and his charms. She couldn’t blame her, really. It wasn’t difficult to do so.

“She wants to meet,” Spencer’s voice was soft and nervous, and it was the most she’d heard him talk all day.

Bugsy froze, and Alex’s jaw dropped, “Wait, you guys have never met?” She saw Spencer shake his head just before she rounded the corner back into the office, feeling like she was intruding immediately, “Aren’t you curious what she looks like?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter what she looks like, she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me,” She stopped at the doorway, feeling like she’d had the entire cup of hot coffee dumped over her chest in a scalding pain the minute she’d heard it.

Spencer called her beautiful many, many times before, both when she’d been done up to the nines and even when she was running away from a damn wedding in the middle of a storm and she looked like a sewer rat.

But that didn’t matter, because everything about Maeve was beautiful to him, and that was where she seemed to draw the short straw. Because who would find her selfishness beautiful? Or her spoiled nature, or how she could be so crass and rude she had been in more fights before she started the BAU than she’d care to admit. But Maeve was nothing like that. She was sweet and gentle and beautiful on the inside.

Bugsy plonked his coffee down harder than she’d wanted to, and he thanked her, pausing for a second as he looked between Alex and Bugsy, the second woman now sipping her steaming coffee freely and pinning maps to an adjacent board as if she couldn’t hear a word they were saying.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” He said, fiddling with his sleeves, “I mean; I slouch, my hair’s too long, my tie is perpetually crooked,”

“Your hair’s fine,” Alex combats back, watching the girl down her drink in a few sips, “Jesus, do you have asbestos in your throat?”

Bugsy turned to her and shrugged silently, “I’m tired, I needed the caffeine,”

Alex watched her with a hesitant eye, as if she was keeping just as close an eye on her as Jennifer but didn’t want to say, before she stepped away from the doorway, “Alright, I gotta run. You kids update us if you find something out.”

And with that Blake took her leave, leaving the room in silence for a moment, and Bugsy heard Spencer thinking too loud with that big brain of his.

She sighed, tacking a map of the city up next to the other one with points of interest noted on, “You’ll be fine,” She said after a minute, and he froze.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, formally like she asked to sit next to him on the bus or to squeeze past him in a store.

“I said you’ll be just fine on your date with Maeve,” She reiterated, using a purple sharpie to start drawing the routes the victims took to work.

Spencer sighed, shuffling papers around his desk, “How can you be so sure?”

She looked at him then, properly looked at him and he felt his breath almost catch. He’d been telling another one of his half truth’s earlier, because he couldn’t very well say just how many night’s he’d thought about Bugsy being all over him, about kissing her and sweeping her off her feet, about squeezing her close to him in a passionate embrace and never letting her slip away again. He thought about all the times she professed how much she loved him and how good a friend he was to her, and how happy she made him, and how he had spent the first year of knowing her getting to know her for that big brain of hers that rivalled his own.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything, but he couldn’t have her. He could have Maeve though. He could meet her and fall in love with her and marry her. He could do it. But she still wouldn’t be her.

She smiled at him like she had a secret, one she was willing to share with him, one that came at a cost but she would give it to him anyway because it was him and she was so good to him and deserved so much better.

“What’s not to like about you, Spencer?” She said softly, her expression that of a street dog looking for scraps.

He swore he shuddered when she said his name like that, but he tried a smile back at her anyway. But it was too late, she’d already turned away to continue plotting the points on the map.

Spencer felt his chest swell in a way Maeve had never gotten it to do.

–

He felt stupid. Half an hour of primping himself in the BAU bathroom, worrying and fussing over what he was wearing and if his hair sat right and if his face looked too skinny, he had made it to the restaurant only to baulk at the last minute when he’d seen a guy in a booth flicking his head to look back at where he was sat in a window seat, a red rose potted in the middle of the table and an empty chair across from him.

He had panicked and called Maeve, told her to go home because her stalker was there at the restaurant, and she had done just that with little to no question. Only for him to see, minutes later, the guy he thought was her stalker being approached by another guy and he realised he had likely been looking out the window to check for taxi’s parking outside the restaurant.

Spencer had blown it, the one chance he had at meeting her in person, and he felt more like an idiot than ever.

He didn’t care about the weird rift between them at that moment, he just wanted to see Bugsy, because she always seemed to know what to say to make him feel better. Like she had a talent for it, even when he had not been the best friend himself.

He knew he had to fix it, knew it didn’t matter if it was a little unethical to be on the cusp of having a girlfriend whilst also pining after his best friend, he didn’t care. He wanted to set things right with her just to have his best friend back.

He walked up to her apartment complex, the excuse already brewing in his head that he missed Nico and Sergio, that he maybe missed her a whole lot too but he knew the cats were a sweetened deal way of getting him through the door. Because she would never say no to him seeing the boys.

And then he would tell her, that he’d been an asshole the past few weeks, that he’d been struggling to understand how to balance time between her and his almost girlfriend, because that was a much better half truth than the fact he was trying to bury his feelings for her so deep they couldn’t see the light of day or else his life would be entirely ruined.

That’s exactly what he would say.

Spencer felt a little better than he had leaving the restaurant knowing he’d messed up his chance. In all honesty, he was excited to have Bugsy back, even if his night wasn’t exactly going to plan.

He waltzed up the stairs he’d been on a million times. She loved his apartment, she always said so, but he insisted her TV was bigger and so they usually stayed at hers to watch Dr Who when the newest episodes came out.

Spencer hesitated for a second, hoping his plan worked before he rapped on the door with boney knuckles, his hand fingering the strap of his bag nervously as he heard her moving behind the door.

“One second!” She called, and he chuckled, she had probably fallen asleep on the sofa without pants on, or maybe even just gotten out the shower, either way he heard her scrambling to get clothes on and then-

She swung the door open, and his eyes quickly dropped to her neck that had a long row of hickeys trailing down to her collar bone. His small smile at seeing her vanished like one of those magic tricks he liked to do, and he realised her lip gloss was smudged over her chin, her shirt definitely wasn’t her own and he didn’t actually think she had even bothered to put on underwear beneath the large band tee she’d clearly thrown on in the middle of passion.

Bugsy looked like she’d seen a ghost.

“Spencer!” She said, her voice choked up like she was exhausted, and he felt his stomach turn. He looked away from her, like he couldn’t stand to even look at her, “I thought you were with Maeve- yo-your date,”

“I had to cancel, it wasn’t safe,” He murmured, tugging the strap of the bag tighter around his shoulder.

He felt like a complete loser. More than he ever had being shoved into lockers, being dipped into toilet water, being led around by the librarian and her damn butterscotch.

Spencer felt like his chest was caving in, which he knew was fair on no one to admit, but it was true.

“Are you okay?” She asked immediately, scanning him over for wounds, “Are you hurt- Is Maeve okay?”

He opened his mouth to reply when he heard foot steps and a hand appeared around her waist, tugging her into a muscled body as the door opened wider.

“Who is it, babe?” A deep voice spoke, and Spencer felt his face go green when he saw the adonis of a man who stood behind her, his chest littered with smudged lip gloss and bruises resembling her own neck trailing down to his crotch.

Her face was on fire when Spencer looked back at her, something betrayed in the hazel of his eyes which he knew was entirely illicit to feel in the circumstances, but it was true.

“Fuck off, Renly,” She shoved him back behind the door, looking at Spencer like the friendship between them they were scrambling to salvage hung in the balance with whatever she said next. “You remember Renly, my lab partner at Johns,”

Spencer nodded, the image of her lips on his pubic bone wouldn’t leave his mind, and he wondered what came after that, “I remember him,”

She nodded back, and they went silent.

They’d found themselves back at that stalemate.

TAGLIST:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @greenvita @busy-buzzing

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

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glasvera · 5 months ago

Note

Rivals Bruce Banner with fem reader he’s a total dork in love with her and it’s just fluff of the two being lovey dovey 🥰

Oh, this was a treat to write!

Oxytocin and Dopamine

Bruce Banner x Fem!Reader

Description: Bruce works too hard, even if the world needs his expert mind, and you're always ready to help him relax when he needs it.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Nothing but lovey-dovey fluff!

A/N: I like to think that I am moderately smart, but then I have to go and write someone who's smarter than me, and I feel like a fumbling toddler. Still, I hope I captured that adorkable charm.

Word Count: 1.3k

“Bruce…?”

Your voice enters before you do as you step into the lab he’d been working in. Better to announce your presence than accidentally startle him if he’s working with something delicate. Or, worse yet, to cause him any undue stress that might unleash Hulk. Hulk shared in Bruce’s affections of you, of course, but you knew firsthand just how clumsy he could be.

Though, it would seem you don’t need to worry about either of those outcomes, as you are instead greeted by the sound of soft snoring. A tender smile draws upon your lips. He’s passed out on his keyboard with his cheek typing a long string of letters into a document that should have only been a few pages yet was now quickly approaching twenty. His glasses are smashed against the side of his face, and the curve that should go over the bridge of his nose is instead poking against his eyebrow.

Setting the coffee you’d brought him down gently onto a desk away from any electronics, you wheel a stool over to sit next to him. Your fingers brush soothingly through his dark brown hair as you try to ease him awake.

“Honey,” you coo, tilting your head and leaning towards him as you caress his cheek. “Sweetheart, you fell asleep again.” Your words are accompanied by an airy titter. His face twitches under your touch, nose scrunching and lip pulling back into an involuntary sneer. One last snort catches in his throat as his eyes slowly blink open.

“Mm… what…? Oh,” he murmurs sleepily, adopting a dopey smile when he looks at you. “Hey there, beautiful.”

You giggle softly as your fingertips continue delicately tracing the lines of his face. “You’ve been typing the letter ‘s’ into this document for several minutes now, you know.”

He sits upright with a start, shaking his head before fixing his glasses to sit properly on his face again. “Oh, this? Um… yeah! This is just my translation for our reptilian allies, see? Sssssssss…” He hisses playfully. You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder, amused by his antics.

“Ah, how could I have overlooked that! Oh, but you might want to edit this part,” you tease, pointing to a spot where he had typed a “d” instead of an “s”. “I think this might be a curse word in their tongue.”

“Good eye, my love. This is why you’re my favorite assistant,” he praises, chortling and placing a kiss to the top of your head before he gets to removing the “translation” his sleeping self had worked so hard on typing out.

You snuggle against him, careful to leave him enough room so as not to hinder his typing. “So, what’s been keeping you up so late? The bed is lonely without you,” you bemoan. As if to answer your question before he speaks, you notice multiple diagrams of machine components, all meticulously labeled with accompanying descriptions as to each part’s functions.

“Artificial sunlight,” he mutters before letting out a long, drawn out yawn. His cheek rests against your head. “If Dracula wants to create a pocket of eternal night, we need a way to combat the vampires in the meantime while the others figure out a way to reverse the process entirely. I’ve examined the effects of different wavelengths of light, approaching it like one might design a grow light for plants, but it still needs something else…”

“Would caffeine help?” you suggest before wrapping your arms securely around his waist. “I brought you some coffee.” You nod your head towards the cup that you’d gotten for him.

“You really are too good to me,” he responds fondly, turning away from the monitor to face you properly as he returns your embrace. “But, loathe as I am to admit it, I may simply need a break to clear my head.”

You perk up at that, resting your chin up on his shoulder to look up at him. “I may have a few ideas…” you muse with a cheeky grin, drawing a circle around one of his shirt buttons with the pad of your index finger.

He smirks as he looks down at you, brushing the back of his hand along your cheek. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he hums before cocking his head to the side.

“I think I am,” you purr, your smile only growing wider.

-----

Twenty minutes, four blankets, one set of string lights, and at least a dozen pillows later, a glorious fort has been constructed in the corner of the lab. Coffee had been set aside in favor of hot chocolate, and professional attire was forgotten and replaced by the comfiest pajamas the two of you had on hand here.

Your knees curl up towards your chest as you cradle your hot cocoa in your hands. Bruce situated himself behind you with your back leaning against him, his arms wrapped around your waist and his legs spread on either side of you. Your cheek and the side of your neck are being constantly littered with fluttering kisses, and you can feel his smile with every press of his lips. A contented hum vibrates in your chest.

“I thought this was supposed to be relaxing for you,” you chide playfully before meeting his lips in a chaste kiss.

“Pampering you with affection is relaxing for me,” he argues, squeezing your waist a bit tighter. “I think more clearly after a proper snuggle.” He smiles into the crook of your neck before adding, “Plus, the oxytocin released really is good for the mind. And, when I’ve suffered failure after failure with different prototypes, these bursts of dopamine help me get back to it in no time.”

“You had me at the first explanation,” you titter, taking a sip of your hot cocoa.

“Oh, don’t lie; you like it when I ramble on with scientific explanations,” he teases, and you can feel his laugh rumbling in his chest through your back.

You crane your neck, pretending to ponder it for a moment with your lips screwed to one side of your face. “Hmm… I suppose I do. I also just very much enjoy the sound of your voice.”

You set your mug down, turning sideways in his hold and draping one arm over his shoulder. His hold on your waist loosens, and he brings a hand up to cup your jaw, sweeping his thumb back and forth over the soft skin. The look he gives you is terribly tender, staring down with hooded eyes the color of rich chocolate and smiling ever so gently.

“I enjoy everything about you, you know,” he breathes softly, his gaze traveling over the contours of your face, committing it to memory for the umpteenth time since he’s known you. His thumb brushes over the plush of your bottom lip, and you lean into his touch.

“Didn’t realize it was a competition,” you tease, your breath whispering against the pad of his thumb.

He chuckles. “Never. Just a proclamation. One I will make as many times as you need to hear it.”

Your heart clenches in your chest, and you flash him a brilliant smile. He always knows how to make you fall in love with him all over again. Leaning down and nuzzling into his chest, you let out a contented sigh.

“So, Dr. Banner… what does kissing do, then?” you ask while your finger toys with the collar of his soft fleece pajama shirt.

He quirks a brow at your formal usage of his name. “Kissing…? It releases oxytocin and dopamine in addition to serotonin. Chemicals that make you feel good and crave more,” he explains.

“Good to hear,” you purr. It’s all the warning you give him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a passionate kiss.

After all, that prototype could stand to wait a few hours more.

#bruce banner x reader #hulk x reader #marvel rivals x reader #marvel rivals hulk #marvel rivals bruce banner #glasvera writes #bruce banner #hulk

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etheries1015 · 1 year ago

Note

We all always do General Lilia with Human Reader but NEVER

General Lilia and Fae Reader

What you gon do? Spit out another angst right in my face? Come fight me coward

My first thought to this was to raise an eyebrow and inquire: "How could that possibly be angsty? Fae Lilia falling in love with Fae reader, they could live their lives out the way they want, and have ample time to bask in one another company! Doesn't this sound like the perfect win-win scenario?"

But then it hit me like a truck.

General Lilia X Fae! Reader - The fae with a dream

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader, angst w/ no comfort. Not proofread. slightly rushed ending..? let me know if you have suggestions and I can update and edit accordingly.

TW: Morbid descriptions of Death, emetophobia. Please make me aware if I missed anything and I shall update this section.

General Lilia was used to seeing death all around him. Humans and fae alike fallen into the fire of war losing their lives for...what? Power over one another? A battle of whose race is superior? Seemingly meaningless in the end, for why should the fae fight to prove their worth to live equally in a world where humans simply feared their magic and mystery? That's what made Fae beautiful, after all. And if the humans could just come to understand that their magic isn't all that heinous, perhaps they could find peace with their existence.

That was what you had said, at least.

"All this fighting is just so...pointless," You sighed to the general in your shared camp, "If all they fear is our magic, don't you think we should have some sort of civil conversation to-"

"(y/n)." Lilia sternly said, a scowl on his lips telling you all you really need to know with his displeasure of the topic, "Humans will never understand us. They fear us, and that's all the reason they need to kill our people. Do not try and speak words of peace when they obviously have no interest in hearing us out." You bit your lip to hold back the words of disagreement, something so like you. Always a peace maker, not wanting confrontation, especially not with him.

But he also knew better than anyone just how reckless you can get to obtain that peace, every day that passes by he wishes you spoke to him first before jumping into the noble idea that ultimately took your life.

He noticed the way you fought became sloppy, he could tell you were holding back your magical abilities in some sick and twisted mercy for the humans. He admired how strongly you dreamed of a world where the two races could live in peace, but he was disappointed in how naive and stupid you were to hold back during a battle for your life and the lives of your comrades. The general made certain to make you aware your actions had consequences, breaking your heart in the process.

The long-haired male looked down at you in distaste, blood red eyes squinting in authority and lips tilted in a disgusted frown as he grabbed you by the back of your hair and roughly pushed you into the tent. You let out a feeble cry mix of shock and pain, tears pouring down your mud-stained cheeks as the rough force of his push left you plummeting to the ground.

"Your actions as of late have been incredibly foolish and put the entire army at risk, (y/n)," He growled, "What were you thinking? Sneaking off with a human?! Do not think I have not noticed this past month what you have been up to," His voice raised in fury, a low growl the back of his throat, "Why can't you understand that they don't-"

"They do care!" You cried out, "Lilia, please! T-they just need-"

"They need to back down from the war and stop slaughtering our people. If they cannot do that, then I need you to fight by my side, as my subordinate. Do not forget who your leader is here. I am your general, and you abide by my orders. If you continue to deliberately go against what we stand for, I have no choice but to remove you from this battle and banish you to scullery work. Humans do not care about peace, they do not want peace, and they have no intention of doing so. What in your right mind makes you think you could change that outcome? You are nothing but an easy target for them to potentially squeeze information out of. Nothing less, nothing more. Do you understand?"

Lilias heart broke at the sight of you remaining on the ground, slowly sitting up and nodding with the light in your eyes fading. He felt a knife twist in the pit of his stomach and thought back to a conversation he had with Baul the previous night.

"You give (y/n) far too much leeway! I'm sure you've noticed, but the past month they have been participating in sneaking away to talk to some...humans.

"I'm aware, Baul. I've been following them and listening in on their conversations from afar." Lilia grunted, prodding away at the fire. His companion scoffed at this revelation, raising angry eyebrows and pointing an accusing finger towards the General.

"You were aware of this?! Why have you not stopped it sooner? Are you agreeing with their silly fantasy of changing the hearts of humans and making peace with those...things?" His voice raised in agitation. Lilia avoided his gaze, for he knew Baul had a point.

"I understand your concerns, however, They truly have the intention of changing their hearts, and if anyone could, I want to believe in (y/n). They are very persuasive, and perhaps this war..."

"Will never end until the humans surrender. Lilia, You are allowing your feelings for (y/n) to severely cloud your judgment! We both know that stupid fae is too trusting for their own good. This could compromise our position, and I don't trust them to keep their mouth shut."

"I have it handled-"

"Do you?" Baul interrupted, standing up, "Because it seems to me you are failing your duty as the general of the fae army right now. Failing our queen, failing Meleanor. Have you forgotten which side you are on? How many of our people died by their hands? And you wish to believe a singular fae with silly dreams could possibly persuade them to put this war to an end?" Lilia kept his mouth shut, staring at the fire before him, hunched over as his partner walked past him.

"The general I follow does not show mercy for humans, nor allows his heart to be swayed by such drivel. I sincerely hope you take care of this issue before I handle it myself."

Lilia had told himself it was better this way, to straighten you out with harsh words in hopes to dissuade you from becoming overzealous and taking advantage of his obvious favoritism towards you. He had to draw a line; you were an important part of his army and to him. He couldn't risk losing you, someone who has stayed by his side from day one.

Sighing with frustration for himself and the situation, Lilia walked up to your silently crying figure and bent down, pressing his forehead against yours attempting to pull your gaze towards his own.

"I can't lose you," He whispered, eyes peering into yours wide with concern, "Please, please understand where I am coming from. You are the only family I know. Think of Levan, and Meleanor. Think of the Valley. Think of our home, our people, and...our future together," His voice trembled slightly, coming out almost in a begging tone. You bit your lip and swallowed a sob, taking a shaky breath in and reaching your hands up to cup his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," you whispered back, a moment of silence reigning.

He knew something was wrong the second you said that. You apologized, not as if you were guilty for your actions, but as if you were saying...goodbye. He could feel it deeply in the pit of his stomach that if he let go in this moment, if he allowed you to leave, he would never see you again. in a final desperate attempt he breathed in sharply before in a boost of confidence roughly pressing his lips against your own, ignoring the yelp of surprise escaping your mouth. You soon found yourself kissing him back with equal force, the sob that you held back coming to the surface as you cried into the kiss and salty tears pouring down your eyes and mixing with the passion. Lilia pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours once more, interlocking his fingers with yours. You continued to cry.

"We're going to make it out of this war together, right?" His voice cracked, "We-we're...we're going to live the rest of our lives together and happy in the valley with Levan and Meleanor, and we're going to meet Malleus together, right?" When you didn't reply and simply dug your head into the crook of his shoulder, the general held you tightly with his rough embrace and simply allowed silence to overcome. There wasn't anything left to say.

It was inevitable for him to let you go and return to his duties. He was general, after all, which meant plenty of meetings and strategy planning had to be done, as well as updates to the queen. You had said your goodbyes, stars had completely painted the sky and the sun fully set to rest. While returning to the camp, Lilia had a strong uneasy feeling as the events that transpired prior to his departure left his heart in a state of unrest and beating frantically, as if trying to tell the General something.

That unsettling feeling was confirmed when you were nowhere to be found, and you hadn't been seen for the past few hours when he had left. Angered at the lack of information and of the unknown variables, Lilia barked orders for everyone to disperse and try and find where you might have wandered off to. Many disagreed with this; stating that fae wandering off was not uncommon, that you were able to protect yourself, that perhaps in the morning they would search. Baul, in respect of Lilia, had been the only one to agree although reluctantly to involve himself in the search of where you had gone.

Light touched the forest before you were found.

dead.

I could go into gruesome detail, but I shall spare the details. All you need to understand is how it stood; a truly disgusting and unruly sight. The way you were placed was almost as if they were being taunted, and mocked. You were almost used as a morbid warning from the humans, it was a disgusting and disrespectful way to die. Baul and Lilia stared in absolute horror at your lifeless body, jaw ajar and heart racing faster than it ever had before. He thought about how mere hours ago his lips were upon yours, you were safe in his tight grasp, nodding in understanding as he listed off the ways in which you would live your long life together, making it past this horrible war.

Even the General could not hold back the urge to vomit, doubling over in pain and anguish as his throat burned and eyes blurry with tears. Baul had to look away, tears pricking the side of his eyes and biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from sharing the same fate Lilia had. You were gone, and there was nothing else to do but scream.

The second to worst part of this was returning to the camp, without you following him as you normally would. The generals eyes were truly dark and empty this time, heading directly to his tent. The same tent he had chastised you in, hoping to avoid this exact situation. He kept repeating in his head the ways in which the two of you would have lived together. He was supposed to propose to you after the war ended, he was supposed to build a home for the two of you to share your lives together, you were supposed to stay by his side and experience new places together, you were supposed to die together. There was nothing to explain just how badly his heart yearned for you in the many years you had known each other, the way you accepted him while most fae turned him away, you were a part of his circle of most trusted people in his life. And now you were gone, and he could not stop seeing flashes of your smiling face soon replaced with your lifeless display. A truly revolting truth of war, a war he was determined to end.

He then noticed on his bed, a letter. With shaking hands and blurry vision, Lilia weakly picked up the paper with penmanship clear as day to be identified as yours, and read it carefully.

Lilia Vanrouge,

I presume if you are reading this letter at this time, it means I failed to return from my mission. I'm sorry. I understand this is the part where you tell me "I told you so" and chastise me for being naive, and maybe so. Nonetheless, I have to do this. I plan on meeting with knight of dawn, the human I spoke to said he would be able to get me an audience and plead our case.

"that fucking idiot..." Lilia muttered, tears dripping onto the letter.

I know you are probably thinking to yourself; "that stupid idiot." And I suppose you wouldn't be wrong, even I know the high possibility of not returning. But I like to believe the good in humans, and believe that their fear could be placed at ease if we simply...talked. I understand not everything can be solved that way, but how are we to know the outcome if we do not try? You have your way of fighting, and I have mine. With my words. I love you, Lilia Vanrouge. I truly do. I wish we could spend the rest of our lives together, but I cannot see that happening if this war does not resolve with a peaceful ending. I implore you to find love in your heart for all- and love others the way you loved me. Give them your blessing, for I know you have a lot of good in your heart and room for growth. As the years pass, remember my sacrifice was for the pursuit of peace for our people, and you continue on that mindset. I believe in you and trust in you, Lilia, you will go on to do amazing things.

your love,

(y/n).

You soon became the foundation of what he believed in and continued to live on doing. After the war had ended, losing his dearest friends and beloved, Lilia stood strong in his resolve to make your sacrifice worth something. From hatching Malleus, to even becoming a father and giving the blessing to a baby human. Something you would have surely smiled at him for. With every milestone you were there with him; guiding him, parenting with him, and placing those very values you trusted into everything he had done. He had come far and liked to believe it was your words that strongly influenced him. You were right, your choice of fighting was with your words rather than your magical abilities, and it worked wonders.

Thus, there he was... Lilia Vanrouge, vice housewarden to Diasomnia of Night Raven College, watching as his three underlings sat at a table in the cafeteria enjoying a meal with a mix of races. He felt a surge of proudness and pride fill his heart with sentimental joy, sitting in the shadows re-reading that same hundred of years old note from someone he cared for deeply.

I believe in you and trust in you, Lilia.

A voice interrupted his thoughts, the short-haired fae folding the letter and tucking it safely back inside his pocket. A familiar figure walked towards him with excitement and a comforting twinkle in their eyes.

"Lilia~!" The curious human called out, The red eyed fae smiling in return and flashing a toothy grin.

"Ah, why if it isn't our precious prefect from Ramshackle. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He chuckled, floating upside down.

"I'm doing this project-" You said, holding up a notebook, "And I have to interview a few students about who impacts their lives the most. Can I interview you?" Lilia raised an eyebrow and floated down to meet your gaze, a gentle smile planted on his lips.

You were always a curious soul to him, and in many ways, he found solace in the way you spoke so cheerfully and hopefully that he had almost deluded himself into believing perhaps the fae he had once known had come back as the thing they held credence in the most; a human. That you had come back to give him a second chance to have confidence in you, come back to see what the world has accomplished in your absence, to give him peace of mind that the world has truly progressed and you were there to witness it flourish. Perhaps it was the shared name or the same sparkling eyes, but he couldn't help but have a soft spot for this human who had come into his life.

"I'd be delighted to assist you! Now, where to begin...? Ah! I know,"

"There once was a fae with a heart as noble and pure as gold, with a beautiful dream for peace across all nations..."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Lilia #Lilia vanrouge #Lilia vanrouge x reader #General lilia #General lilia x reader #twisted wonderland angst #Lilia angst #Lilia x reader angst #Lilia vanrouge twisted wonderland #twst #twst angst #twst headcannons

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ataleofcrowns · 6 months ago

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Hey! I love AToC and have been following its development for a few years now. But whenever a new chapter was released, and I sat down to read it, I often found it hard to carve out time to do so. So, it got me thinking - if it’s hard for me to read it consistently, how much more difficult must it be to write it consistently? It is admirable the act of writing this takes, And while I’m sure there are slower periods in the whole process, it’s inspirational how you dedicate time to writing. I write sometimes, definitely not a lot, and I want to dabble in a few short stories. So, how do you put in that time or really cultivate that habit of writing - especially when pesky "IRL logistics" get in the way? Are there any specific rituals or routines that help overcome such circumstantial challenges? I’ve been in a bit of a rut with the pen lately, and honestly, hearing anything - whether it’s how you approach sitting down to write or just your thoughts on the process - would be incredibly helpful at best and, at the very least, really interesting to hear! Appreciate you sharing your thoughts if you’re able :p

I take an ice bath, chug 6 cans of energy drink back to back, sit down and white knuckle my desk while yelling "LOCK IN" and write 10k words in one hour-

Ok but seriously, I appreciate the ask!! 💖

And honestly it's just a matter of forming the habit, at least for me. I try to write at the same time every day. For me that's in the evenings since I'm more productive at night, but other people might feel more productive in the morning or the afternoon, it all depends! Once it becomes a habit it's much easier to switch your brain to Writing Mode around the same time every day.

When you first start trying to form the habit, don't be down on yourself if you don't get a lot of writing done at first. Try to write things that pique your interest, even if the scenes or snippets aren't in chronological order. Getting something on the page is what's most important!

Also, don't be too hard on yourself while writing, and try not to edit while you write either. This is a bad habit I used to have that I had to unlearn because of my perfectionism, but it's perfectly fine to have a bare bones first draft that you can return to filling out later. Your first draft is not supposed to be perfect, so just focus on writing it first, and evaluating it later.

And write what you feel inspired to write! Like, sometimes I can't be bothered to write out descriptions or character actions, but I get inspired to write a certain conversation between characters, so I literally skip all the descriptive words and only write out the dialogue. Other times I feel inspired by worldbuilding that I want to add, or an environment that I really want to describe, so I write snippets for that, etc.

I also like setting wordcount goals for myself because I get a dopamine boost when I hit the target and it feels like I accomplished something. If you go that route, start out small! Like 250 words every day for example, and as you get into it, bump it up little by little. It also feels good if you go over your wordcount goal, at least for me.

Some other minor things that have helped me: putting on background music (ymmv), removing all potential distractions by closing everything on my pc and fullscreening my writing program, ensuring I have a place where I can write uninterrupted, drinking my favorite tea, motivating myself with rewards for once I hit my wordcount goal (snacks/video games/watching a show).

I hope any of this is useful for you!!

#scilla-forbesii #ask #advice

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insert-this-fire · 10 months ago

Text

Overpoweringly Sweet

Logan Howlett aka Wolverine x gn!nonspecified mutant! Reader

Summary: Somehow you contracted Hanahaki for a man you hardly ever spoken to. Cant end well can it?

W/C: ~9k Warnings: a little OOC, angst, graphic description of coughing up flowers with blood.

AO3 Mirror A/N: I never post actual fics on tumblr but I feel that it needs to be done here. So sorry if its kinda formatted weird? it will also be on AO3!. First x-men fic too so sorry if its a bit ooc. Not really based on any specific iteration of Wolverine. Also not edited like, at all. Also I take requests! :3

~~ :3 ~~

You know, having a crush on someone so unattainable is laughable at best. Having a crush on them and apparently somehow contracting Hanahaki is even worse. How does that even happen? You haven’t even spoken to the guy more than a few words. Too embarrassed to open your mouth to introduce yourself and you work together. Yet here you are, petals on the bathroom floor and a constricting feeling in your throat. Your head lying on the back of the stall door. Still heaving from the sudden onslaught of overly sickly floral-scented petals that spilled out.

Gardenias. Pure white and mocking.

The smell of them made you nauseous. The sight of them even more so. After looking up what they meant. It just made things even worse.

Secret love. How fitting.

It’s a damn crush, and the world decided it was love. Love for a grumpy ass old man with hair that kinda made you think of a cat. Actually, he reminded you of a cat in general. One that you want to rest your face on and fall asleep. Bury your face in those pecs of his. Muscles may look hard, but they do have a bit of squish. By God, does he have muscles. You’ve caught him shirtless a few times. All by accident, of course. You weren’t a pervert. Anytime you think of it, your jaw clenches tight.

Ah, getting off-topic here. Back to the fact that apparently, hanahaki doesn’t care if you’ve ever talked to someone before.

The stall door was cool against your cheek when you turned your head, and it was less gross than hugging the toilet like you wanted to so you could flush the flowers down the drain. It was terrible. The petals surround you, and a single full bloom floats mockingly in the toilet.

You know how to cure it. The moment that the flower petals started to spill from your lips, you desperately looked for what it was. It wasn’t that hard to find, apparently some find it sickeningly romantic. Bet they never had to deal with the ache that was constant around your lungs. You found the cure for it as well. Should be easy to do, right? Tell the person how you feel and they return it, or get it surgically removed. The surgery should be the right choice. It’s the only choice. You’ve hardly spoken to the man who coveted your affection, but the thought of not feeling the tug of your heart when you see him was too much to bear. Which makes no sense! It’s a dumb crush.

God, you’re an idiot.

A deep breath fills your lungs slightly, and the pain wraps around your chest as you try to get a full breath. Your hands find purchase on the rim of the toilet, and you push yourself up. Now, on two shaky legs, you wipe your mouth. You need to clean up the petals before anyone comes in. It was still the middle of the day, and classes were still going. Thank God the coughing fit didn’t hit you till lunch, or you would have to explain to a classroom full of students. That would be embarrassing. Yeah sorry class, your teacher is in love with someone they can’t have, let’s continue with the lesson now! Embarrassing.

Your hands start to pick up the petals. Each one feels as if it was searing into your skin. One, two, five, ten, thirty. Thirty petals and one full bloom. You were screwed. You could go to Hank. See if he knew any other way around it, any way to fix the disgusting flowers that took root in your lungs. Maybe being a mutant changed how to cure the disease? That was just hopeful thinking, though.

After mulling over the choices for a few moments more, you finally unlock the stall door and walk over to the garbage, quickly discarding the petals that did not make it into the toilet.

Your feet then carry you out of the bathroom and, as luck would have it, right into the chest of the one person you did not want to face yet.

Logan.

You were right, though. The muscles on his chest were squishy. God you want to just motorboat him real fast. Would that be weird? Yeah it would be. As quickly as you ran into him, you tried to remove yourself from his personal space. You know the guy wasn’t too fond of touch. You think. You actually… don’t know. Words quickly spill from your mouth as you try to apologize. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t see you.”

Logan just makes some gruff-sounding noise and continues on his way. You could faintly see as he walked away scrunching of his nose. He was probably able to smell the faint floral scent that was clinging to you. It probably wasn’t pleasant. You didn’t like the scent, it probably was a lot stronger on his end.

As you stand in the hallway after the sudden bump into your crush, you place your hand on your chest to calm your beating heart, and you walk in the opposite direction to your classroom. It hurt that he didn’t even say anything back to your apology, but that seemed pretty in character. To you, at least. If you were on friendlier terms, maybe not, but you doubt he even knows your name.

The thought of the surgery resurfaces in your head. Maybe you should get it. Ignore the deep-seated pain in your heart at the thought of losing your feelings for him. However, the repercussions of a botched removal is another reason not to do so. It could remove the feeling of ever being in love again. Would that be so bad though?

You shake your head. You have a class you have to get back to… and a phone call to make.

The day continued on like normal after that. Classes, grading papers, discreetly removing petals from your mouth into the trashcan by your desk as you graded papers. A new norm for you. It did seem that a few students had noticed a slight change in you. In fact, one of them even got you a get well soon card. Sweet, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

If you don’t get better soon, you will probably end up another statistic for the disease. How many people were there that had it and perished as the roots wrapped around the lungs and slowly filled the valves on the heart. Too many, probably. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at that. That’s why you were now sitting in your now empty classroom, making a phone call. You had found a number to a doctor who specializes in the disease. You would get some advice and decide from there what you want to do.

The phone rings, once, twice….

“Hello, this is Dr. Forrest’s office. How may I help you?” How fitting a doctor who knows about Hanahaki has a nature-based last name.

You quickly introduce yourself and ask if you could speak to him or schedule an appointment. Apparently the only way to talk to him is with an appointment. The next one isn’t for a few months. You don’t even know if you’ll last that long. You’ve been keeping track. A full bloom appeared today. A singular full bloom, no steam. The petals were loose so it had to be in the early start of the mid stages. It was taking its time infecting you. It must be due to not seeing Logan all the time.

You do tend to avoid him when you can. The thought of seeing him always makes your cheeks burn. Man was just too hot. It made it seem like you were in love with just his looks! You weren’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be coughing up all these petals. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t just his looks. The flower has a meaning, after all.

Maybe if you avoid Logan, actually stop trying to see if you can see him across the halls. Stop looking for him during dining hours. Just try to ignore him. Though unless he was going to go on one of those sudden long vanishing acts. Well, you doubt that you actually will be able to avoid him enough to live till the next appointment. You really are screwed. Shit.

Running a hand over your face with a groan you lean back in the chair behind your desk. What should you do? The surgery now seemed to be out of the question. So now you either confess and die, or you just die. Which definitely was not the ideal thing to do. You were screwed. Hands down. Your name is on the death warrant the moment the receptionist said months. Maybe you should go to Hank. Dude was a certified genius right? He would know something.

A knock at your door made you jump. Quickly you lift your head and look over to the closed door to your classroom. Could be a student, another faculty member? Whoever it was either needed you or the room.

“Come on in.”

Silence followed and then the door opened up. Your gaze turns to the door, ready to answer whatever questions that are going to follow. Till you hear the tall tale sound of boots, heavy. The sound of jeans rubbing against legs. A jacket rustling slightly from movement. Jeez, why are you suddenly so aware of the sounds?

Your eyes hone in on the man you’ve been thinking about. Logan. Twice. TWICE in one day you’ve seen him up close. See him in your space. He never seeks you out. You never get to see him up close like this more than once or twice a week. It’s like you’re in a fanfiction and someone is pushing the two of you together.

That’s silly though, this was real life.

“Oh, Logan. How can I… help you?” Could you sound any more awkward? You want to bang your head on your desk. Especially with how he was just looking at you. Should you have called him Wolverine? Mr. Howlett?

“You need to let up on that perfume you’re wearing. Can smell it all over the hall.” His face gives away the fact he smells something he doesn’t like.

Perfume?... Perfume… The flowers. Of course he could smell it. The floral scent has been clinging to you since the first petals slipped from between your lips.

“Oh, heh sorry. I’ll try to use less of it.” You just laugh a bit, still feeling a tad bit uncomfortable, the sudden tickle in your throat reminding you that you could not stop the smell from permeating your skin. That it will linger on you till you no longer have these flowers growing inside of your chest. “If I use too much again I’m sorry. Can’t really tell when I use too much or not.”

Blue eyes narrow at you, you can tell he doesn’t believe you. That he should call you out on it. “Thanks bub, it’s masking everything else.”

With that he left the room as quickly as he came, there was a slight pause and you can tell he glanced at the trash can by your desk. The trash can that had a few petals thrown in haphazardly. Thought to be hidden by the papers that you threw on top. You hope that is all he sees.

That was such an awkward interaction. You slam your head on the desk once more. God why are you such an idiot.

~~ :3c ~~

Time continues on like normal, but recently you catch Logan at the corner of your eye. Which is normal, you usually do seek him out. Yet now it’s like he is everywhere you go. Walking in the gardens, he’s out there smoking one of his cigars leaning on a tree or the wall of the mansion. You’d be eating and you’d see him a table or two away, his eyes on you. You can feel them boring into your skin. You’ll be walking in the hallways and see him turning a corner before you fully spot him. More often than not you find him outside of the bathroom you were just in after coughing up a storm. Just standing by the door like a guard dog. Always scrunching his nose when the door opens and the aroma of flowers follows you out.

He knew. He had to. He had to know something was wrong with you. There is no way he doesn’t. The man has been alive long enough that he probably knows the signs of what you have. The disease that is currently ruining your life. He has probably seen all sorts of people who have had Hanahaki. You won’t be the first, nor the last person he has seen inflicted with it either. It’s probably why he’s keeping an eye on you. He must have found out when he came to ask you to stop using so much perfume and yet you still smell that sickeningly floral smell on you.

Unless you’re just suddenly more aware of him than you were before. Which you shouldn’t be. You were already highly aware of him due to your damn dumb crush that’s killing you. Eyes are always lingering on him.

It’s probably because of the scent that’s following you around. It is probably sticking out more than your usual scent, which was. You don’t know. What do you normally smell like? Apparently, it’s something non-distinct since the new smell is pretty overpowering. If you can smell it, it must be strong.

You wish you knew what was going through the man’s head. You couldn’t really ask him. You aren’t close to him like that. Can’t ask the people he is close to either because you aren’t close to them. You kinda just, are here in the mansion teaching. You’re not a part of x-men, you aren’t too interested in fighting anyways. You earned your keep teaching. You are vaguely close to Hank though. Well, in recent events at least. You could ask him?

Yeah, no, you aren’t. You’re going to suffer through this. You can handle it. You don’t need to know what’s going on in his mind.

Which reminds you, you need to actually go talk to Hank. You’ve been putting it off, but the full blooms are startling. Every other coughing fit brings one full bloom. It has only been a week since the first bloom and with the sudden influx of Logan sightings, it is speeding up. You needed an out and fast. Before it kills you.

Thus here you are walking through the mansion to head down to his lab. Quickly avoiding anyone you see. The scent of flowers following you through the halls like a wraith. Leaving a trail of sweetness to waft into the air. Disgusting.

As you make your way into the lab you spot Hank, or Beast? Shit, you don’t even know which one he prefers to be called. You really should ask, huh. Anyway, you spot him.

When the blue-furred man spots you, he quickly greets you with your name: “It is good to see you this fine evening. What do I owe the pleasure? It is not often I see you down here.”

If you could, you would sigh deeply. The rattling of vines stops the motion before it begins. “Hi yeah uh. I got into a delicate situation and I don’t know who else to go to? The doctor I had called can’t really see me and I don’t know what else to do and you’re like… The smartest person I know so I’m hoping… you could help?” The words spill out quickly.

Hank raises an eyebrow and fixes the glasses perched on his face. The man was upside down for some odd reason, and he quickly flipped to land on the ground. With grace you don’t expect for someone his size. Then again, you’ve seen some weird ass mutations. He motions for you to sit down on one of the beds stationed in the lab. One used when needed for situations like this. Medical, scientific, not something you can throw a punch at and fix.

After sitting down on the bed, you start to explain. Words flowing like a waterfall. He is the first person you have gone into detail about your condition. How the petals slip from your lips like a poison, the tightening of your chest with each breath. The fear of losing yourself to unrequited love and dying because of it. You do not mention who it is directed at nor the fact you thought it was a crush and did not deserve to have evolved into such a disease.

The room fell silent after your reveal, a silence that stretched on longer than you would have liked. God, you hope he has an idea about how to help you out of this mess.

“From my knowledge there are only two cures. I assume you already know.” A pause as you answer with a curt nod. “I do not believe there are any other alternatives other than what has been proven to work. I assume that you are here to find out if there are any or that you require the surgery.”

“I can’t tell them… I really had hoped that you would know. I don’t.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair, messing it up slightly. It was already a mess from earlier, but you know how hands are in hair. “It’s not an option to tell them.”

“I see. It will take some time, but I will see if I can learn the correct procedure so that there will be minimal to no complications.” Hank pats you on the shoulder and motions for you to head out. He had some things to do and research to go over. Escorting you out of his lab so Hank may do what is necessary. He didn’t give a timeline, but you trust that he can do it before your time is up.

You really hope that he can do this.

After leaving the lab, you had to pass some of the other faculty. Or X-men? Yeah, it seems they are setting off on a mission of some sort. You pass Cyclops, Storm, Jean and. Yeah, that is exactly who you don’t want to see right now. Logan. Seems he is going with them. To, wherever they have to go. You give them all a small nod in acknowledgment as you pass them. Each one provides you a small smile or nods back.

Logan though? He pauses when you pass him. His face contorted into something you weren’t too sure of. He probably caught another whiff of the flowers on you. Great. The others give him a look and he just grunts at them. Somehow they understand and continue on their way. Leaving you with Logan.

A hand grabs your bicep, fingers wrapping around the muscle. Your gaze drops to the hand, in another life you were sure it would be rough with use, but it was surprisingly soft. The grip was not, natural strength hidden behind the hold. A promise that you would not be able to pull away without exerting yourself.

“You’re smellin’ worse. Thought I told you to let up.” A gruff voice, oh how you want to roll in that voice. That was a weird thought, you should probably stop thinking of that like a weirdo. God are you a weirdo?

An awkward laugh bubbles up from your chest. You can feel your own muscles tense under his hold and gaze. Damn he’s never looked at you like this before. A slight glare, crinckled nose, and a slight snarl on his lips. You must be really weird because damn was that kind of a hot look. Which somehow in turn makes your chest tighten and the tickle of a cough is trying to break free. You swallow hard to bite it back. Yet you can feel the petals moving through your throat.

“Sorry sorry, I guess I overdid it?” You pull your eyes away from his. Unable to continue to look at his face. Be it from your weird thoughts, the tickle in your throat or your inability to keep eye contact with someone. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“You’re hiding that you're sick.” The grip on your arm tightens. Not in a painful manner no, but a reminder that you cannot run away from this conversation. Which is odd right? Why does Logan care? You two hardly know each other. Sure you apparently love the man, but you’re still sure he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve seen him care for others in the mansion, a good friend in an odd way. A father figure and mentor to some of the students. Also in a weird way. You’re sure he’d brush off that idea and say he isn’t. He is.

Wait, he just said you’re sick… “I’m not sick?”

Logan's eyes narrow as he stares at you. Do you look sick? Sure you’ve gotten a little pale and eating has gotten a little hard so you haven’t been eating as much as you usually do. Does being sick have a smell to it? Fuck that is weird. Well, some animals could tell when others are sick before physical symptoms show. Maybe that's how he knew. No, that wouldn’t make sense because you aren’t really sick. You just have a big fat crush that's killing you.

You can tell Logan doesn’t believe you. “Just fix it. Can’t stand the smell on you.” His hand lets go and he stalks down the hallway to where the others had walked off to. Your eyes linger on his form as he walks away. The ghost of a feeling on your arm where his hand had wrapped around it. The slight warmth seeping into your skin slowly vanishes. God you’re fucked.

~~ >:3 ~~

And fucked you are. It’s been at least two months since you told Hank about the hanahaki. Hank is taking his sweet ass time researching the procedure, the doctor you called has called back finally and mentioned that his next opening for a consultation was still months away. Which you decide to say fuck that guy, you trust Hank can do it. The doctor probably won’t even work on a mutant. Logan is still always at the corner of your eye. A scowl or sneer on his face anytime he looks at you. Not to mention the flowers! They’re getting worse.

Full blooms, multiple at a time. Their petals no longer loose around the center. Now they are tightly packed, fully bloomed and speckled with blood as they escape through your throat. Occasionally there would be a flower that had not bloomed yet. Still wrapped tightly, not fully formed. You weren’t sure what that meant, but you’re sure it wasn’t good. At least they were not roses. You feel bad for those who dealt with that. Thorns were something you were happy that was not in the mix of your own flower hell.

The flowers aren’t fully developed yet. Stems have not fallen with them. Yet you are unsure if you would survive long enough to see the end stages of hanahaki. Your body is getting weaker and weaker each day. Your own mutation even fighting against you. You can hardly call on it now. Once you had wished to be a normal person, but that has been years ago. Now you feel like you are losing a part of yourself. These damn flowers truly are killing you. Both physically and emotionally.

You had to leave class more often. The coughs that tore through your chest made it unbearable to speak long enough to teach an entire class to its completion. Students start to worry, other faculty seem to notice the sudden change as you have to start asking for people to cover your class for you as you rush to the restroom to hug the porcelain throne to exude the flowers of love. Each time more and more petals fall from your lips, tears stain your cheeks more often due to the pain and energy it takes to clear them out from your throat.

It has gotten to the point where you had to ask someone to cover your class in full, or cancel it. You don’t want to cancel your classes, but at the rate you are going it will be the only thing you can do. Today is probably the last full class you can handle, you feel like shit. Your throat itches, your stomach aches from the lack of food. Your head hurts because of the lack of sleep from the coughing. Yeah, you might have to take a break from it all. What surprises you is that Logan is waiting outside of your classroom.

Ok it’s not that surprising. You’ve been catching him outside your classroom since he came back. It is like he is suddenly more aware of you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. You would be excited usually, your crush suddenly paying attention to you! How great is that? Yet lately it just makes things feel so much worse. Especially with that sneer on his face. You know he knows something is up, he made it clear two months ago. Though he hasn’t brought it up again. Yet he is always there. Like a shadow.

Which is honestly a bit uncomfortable. You aren’t used to this amount of attention.

“You don’t have to stand out here you know?” Papers you needed to grade were in your arms. You may need to take a break, but you should at least grade these papers before someone takes the class over. Your last bit of work.

Logan just stares at you. The slight glare, the wrinkled nose, the arms crossing making those muscles bulge out of his shirt. You had to quickly drag your eyes away from his arms so you aren’t caught staring. You don’t meet his eyes though. It was too intense.

“You’re getting worse.” Way to point out the obvious Logan.

“Good observation.” A short pause follows after. Silence falls for a few moments. “I uh, it’s why I’m takin a break. Sick leave? Uh… Yeah…” You really don’t know how to talk to him. The tickle in your throat is back again. Too soon, you just hacked up half your lung just moments before. You really don’t want to cough in front of him. You thought he might already know what it is, but he still thinks the smell on you is perfume. So no way do you want him to know the truth.

Logan stares at you a few moments longer, a slight grunt. His head motioned for you to follow him. That’s how you read it at least as he starts to walk down the corridor and only pauses to look at you. Looks like you’re following him. This can’t end well can it?

The two of you walk silently through the corridors. Your arms are still full of papers, but it seems the two of you are heading out into the garden. Probably for the best, the crisp air outside will dull the floral scent. Hopefully at least. Even if it lingers on your skin and it has gotten to the point others have even started to point it out. The halls were mostly empty though at this time. Most students are already off doing their own thing, you can vaguely hear a laughter from down the hall as the two of you finally make your way outside.

Into the garden, the cool air bites at your exposed arms. You should have worn a jacket. Too late for that now it seems. The trees are already turning orange, autumn making its way across the land. Oranges, reds and browns. If you weren’t full of anxiety you would be enjoying the sights. Especially as Logan brings you over to a small bench by the man-made pond. A bit away from everyone, but still close enough to the mansion you can dash inside if needed.

You take a seat first. The papers sit beside you. Logan stands in front of you. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He isn’t sitting. Why isn’t he sitting?

“So uh…” Your voice comes out first, awkward and a bit unsure. The tickle in your throat grows again as you fight it back.

“It’s not perfume on you is it?” Logan’s gaze never leaves yours, but you can’t help but look away. Too uncomfortable with the eyes boring into you. You never once used perfume, though you did use that as an excuse didn’t you?

Silence followed after. Your eyes looking at the ground as you kick your legs back and forth. Unable to voice the truth. Logan is still looking at you, jaw clenching most likely. You don’t have to look at him to know.

His voice finally cuts through the silence. Apparently he was sick of you beating around the bush and not answering him. Your name on his lips startling you slightly. You honestly thought he didn’t know your name, but it seems you were wrong. “What's makin you so sick that it’s leaving you to look like that and smell like that.”

You should tell him. Tell him. TELL HIM.

…

You’ll tell him without actually telling him. You don’t think you’d survive telling him the full truth. You’re a pretty good liar most of the time. He might be able to pick through the lie but he’s not that perceptive right?

“I uh… It’s.” You feel like you’re stumbling over your words, your throat constricting. “I have.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Your muscles tensing as a cough tears through you. Violently. Your body lurching forward as your hand shoots up to cover your lips as the cough pulls out petals and blossoms alike. Your hand can’t catch all the petals as they spill to the ground. Your eyes clenching shut as tears prickle the corners due to how painful it was. The other hand not covering your mouth grabs at your chest. As if you could claw the roots out through your skin. It burns.

It burns, it burns, it burns.

It won’t stop. You can’t stop hacking up the petals. Each cough brings out a sob with it as well. It has never been this bad. The scent of gardenias explodes. It burns your nose. You hate the smell of it. If you survive you’ll never be able to handle this scent again. Your body retching forward as you double over. Body crumpling in on itself as you try desperately to get some air into your already filled lungs. You would think having plants living in your lungs would give you more oxygen. If only it didn’t wrap tightly around your lungs and neighboring organs. Leaving little space for what you truly needed.

You almost forget Logan is there with you. An unexpected presence sits beside you. Warmth seeping into your side. He doesn’t set a comforting hand on your back. Doesn’t say any words. But him sitting beside you is enough comfort. You don’t think you could handle physical touch anyways. Your body would probably jerk harder at it. Hanahaki really was a killing disease wasn’t it. It was going to kill you before even getting to the final stage. You can’t do this.

Slowly the coughing fit lessens. The petals and blooms spilling from your mouth as if it was all you breathed came to a stop. Your body still hunched over, tears filling your eyes as you finally, finally stopped coughing up the damned flowers. You were still shaking, trying to catch the lost breath.

“You’re ok sweetheart. Just try and breathe.” Something large, heavy, warm rests on your upper back. Small soothing circles. He called you sweetheart, that was strange. You don’t expect comfort. You don’t think Logan expected to comfort you like this either. It was an awkward movement, but comforting. You wanted to lean into it, lean into him. You weren’t going to though. Pain was radiating through your chest and you weren’t sure you would be able to sit up straight without coughing again. Fear that any movement will bring on another coughing fit settled inside of you like a vice. You can still feel the slight tickle in your raw throat.

You taste blood.

It takes a few tries, gasping tries, before air finally was able to fill your lungs enough that you could breathe properly. Or well, as well as you can with roots wrapping around your insides. You pull out a few petals that were still stuck in your mouth and let them fall to the ground as you slowly sit up. Still slightly hunched over but no longer practically hugging your legs. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, blood from your lips smearing across your skin. Eyes on the ground where the mess you made mocks you. There's so much, white and red. White flowers that you would have thought beautiful covered in splotches of your own blood. Tainting the gardenias, tainting the meaning of secret love. Disgusting. You’re disgusting.

Your eyes linger on the ground as you finally speak. Voice raspy and strained. “Sorry.”

“Nothin to be sorry about, nasty thing you got. Seen it a few times.” Logan’s voice is gruff, yet there is a touch of something tender in there. Unexpected. You don’t like it. He shouldn’t be treating you like this. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know that you’re like this because of him, because of your dumb crush on him that the world decided was good enough to practically kill you.

Ok that’s not true. You know under his rough and tough demeanor and the huge, insensitive ass he could be. He’s caring and trustworthy. Loyal as fuck and self-sacrificing. It’s what had drawn you in in the first place. The soft look he’d give to people he cared about when no one was looking. The way he treats the younger mutants. It was heartwarming. Your admiration for him turned from simply looking up to him to wanting him to look at you that way.

Silence falls between the two of you again as you continue to try to take in oxygen. The taste of iron and earth is still on your tongue. The sound of fellow mutants distantly chatting and the occasional bird cuts through the silence. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to tell him who your affliction derives from. You doubt he would ask, but he might. You’ll need to think of an excuse. A lie. Anything to keep him from finding out it is him. He’d reject you. You know this already. You’ve seen him look at others. He doesn’t look at you like that. You just learned he knew your name too! The two of you hardly spoke before. This is the most attention you have ever gotten from him. He doesn’t love you the way the disease needs him to.

“Who's the asshole?” His words cut through the silence again. Surprising you once more. This definitely is the most words he has ever spoken to you.

“Doesn’t matter… He doesn’t feel the same.” Your throat continued to feel raw. It hurt to speak, but you needed to answer. You couldn’t stay quiet when he asked. Your gaze moves from the ground to glance at him from the side. You try not to meet his eyes but you can see a look on his face that had never been directed towards you. In any other situation you would be happy, ecstatic. Right now though, it makes your stomach tie up in uncomfortable knots.

A slight hint of anger crosses Logan’s face and his hand just rests on your back, no longer rubbing those soothing circles. You know he wants to know. The look he has on him makes you think he sees you as someone under his protection, it’s nice. Even if it is not really what you want at the moment.

“So you’re willing to die for him.” There was a short pause between his words. His tone is soft, you don’t like it. “Seen most with it die that way. Shouldn’t have to die like that.”

You decide not to reply to the fact that you were willing to die for these feelings. Why? Because you still don’t want to believe it is true. Even with the flowers clearly showing signs the crush was love. Infatuation. You hate this. “Dr. Mccoy is going to perform the surgery for me. Should be any day now.”

You at least hope it will be any day now. You spoke to him a couple days ago and he seemed a bit all over the place so you couldn’t ask him if he was ready yet. You know he hadn’t forgotten, you saw the books laying on one of the tables next to some tools, but time was ticking and it was ticking fast. You know it and now… Now Logan knows it too. You’re on limited time.

“I… can’t tell him. He doesn’t feel the same, he can’t. I’ll die if I tell him. I have to do the surgery. I’d rather chance not feeling love again than to confess and die. I…” Your hands curl into themselves as you look back down at the flowers. The tightening in your chest squeezes harder. You don’t need to explain yourself, but you feel like you have to. This way you can come to terms with it. Speaking it out loud makes it all too real. “I trust Dr.Mccoy. He won’t fail. He… he can’t.”

“Lotta trust in the guy.” Logan leans back on the bench, his hand lingering on your back removes itself as he crosses his arms. You feel the itch in your throat again, it’s too soon for more petals. You at least hope so. Logan then continues, “Remember watching someone choke on their own blood cause of that shit. Don’t want to see you on that end sweetheart.”

Logan called you sweetheart, again. It made butterflies fly around your stomach, churning with the anxiety already there. It was not the most comfortable of feelings. You weren’t expecting it this time either. It was nice. Would be nicer in better circumstances though. “Thanks Logan, but I’ll survive this. I have to…”

“Still think you should tell me who this asshole is. Could talk to him.” You hear the familiar snikt sound, a clear sign he extended his claws. A glance over was all you needed to confirm he did, the light gleaming off the metal.

“God no! Sure actions speak louder than words for him, but it wont help.” Because he’d be threatening himself. You couldn’t help but let a pathetic laugh bubble up. Pain radiating through your chest and throat as you do so. At least you can still find some humor in this. Logan’s claws go right back under his skin and between his knuckles at your words. Though you can tell he still seemed interested in using violence against who is causing this for you. God, you wish you could tell him.

The two of you fall into another silence. Your own thoughts are swirling through your head and you’re sure Logan is also dealing with his own thoughts. Your disease is now out there. What truly ales you has been revealed without you actually saying the words. You wished you could have said the words, said what it was, told him your feelings. Though things never work out that way do they.

You aren’t sure how this was going to end.

Logan looks at you the same time you gaze at him. Your eyes meet his blue ones. You would wax poetic about his eyes, but that seems pretty cliche. Everyone always does when talking about blue eyes, how they look like the ocean, or the sky. Logan’s reminds you of steel, the silvery blue that almost matches the adamantium claws you see on occasion. There is something in those eyes though, something you can’t read. Something behind that wall everyone knows he puts up. You want to dig deeper, fall into those eyes to avoid all your problems. Be free of the pain you can’t escape. The two of you seem to just stare at each other far longer than it felt.

“Tell me when you get the surgery. I want to be there.”

“...Okay.”

And just like that, the two of you break eye contact and fall into a silence. A silence only broken by the occasional cough from you and the sounds of nature and other mutants about. You wish you could have experienced this sooner. Before your world decided to crash down on you. You’ll just have to enjoy the time with him like this while you can. Before the feelings you have for him are forever torn away. Leaving only a hollow space in your chest for the fellow mutant.

You’re not ready.

~~ :3 !! ~~

Hank Mccoy finally let you know he was ready to do the surgery a few days after your chat with Logan. You weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to lose these feelings, you didn’t want the complications that may follow, but fuck you don’t want to die either. You will die if you don’t do this surgery. You can’t… You have to do this.

Which is why you are outside of the room Logan usually occupies when he is in the mansion. You've been standing outside of his room for what felt like hours now. You knew he probably could hear your heartbeat, but he isn’t coming out. He asked to be there when you got the surgery. He wanted to support you for some reason. You could just go, leave and get the surgery without telling him. Your anxiety welling up along with the urge to throw up. Your hand is already raised before you could stop yourself and you knock three times.

Silence follows after. The sound of shuffling and the door opens. Logan standing there in one of those slutty little white tank tops and jeans. A classic look that was all too hot in your opinion. Your mouth feels dry as he looks at you.

“I’m getting it now.” You rub your arm, unable to look him in the eyes. You do look at his face though. Just long enough to see shock cross his face for a few seconds, which quickly vanished back behind his usual look. Logan steps out of his room and shuts the door, head tilting to the side a bit as he waits for you to start walking to Hank’s lab.

The two of you walk silently through the halls. It was late in the afternoon. You could have gotten it earlier in the day but your body was so exhausted from the coughing fit you had that night that you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. In fact you’re still in your pajamas mostly. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. Comfy. You’re going into surgery, you deserve not to dress up for it. Logan doesn’t comment on it either so it’s fine. You’re fine.

Everything is fine.

The two of you enter the lab quietly. No one else seems to be here but Hank. After all, one else knew. People knew you were sick of course, but you kept a tight lip on what exactly was inflicting you.

Hank greets you with your name. A look of surprise as his eyes drop onto Logan. Quickly he glanced back at you and you just shrugged your shoulders slightly. Letting Hank know the situation. How Logan knew what was wrong with you and wanted to be here with you. Moral support from the emotionally constipated x-men. Well, mostly constipated.

After going over the procedures and what needed to be done you step behind the curtains, changing into one of those flimsy hospital gowns. The cool air nipping at your skin as you bite your bottom lip. You were scared. You didn’t want this. You couldn’t do this. You can’t do this! You don’t want to lose your feelings for Logan. He just now is starting to show you attention. It’s not fair! You shouldn’t have to deal with this! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

“Are you okay?” Hank's voice cuts through your spiral. Eyes watering and your chest heaving. Ohm you were crying. No, you were sobbing again. Your hands are shaking at your side. You glance at the curtain that hid you from the other two. You know they heard you crying, heard you falling apart. How embarrassing. Your hand grips at the gown, bunching it up at your chest as you take a shaky breath. Lungs barely able to hold a full inhale.

“Yeah… Yeah sorry. I’m ok. I’m ready.” You step out from behind the curtain. Clear concern was on the blue mutant's face. You can’t read the others. You don’t like this. You silently pad over to the table, bed, whatever it is, that is set up for you. Another strained breathe and you sit on the surface. A glance at the two of them and you lay back. You’re surprised the professor wasn’t here to help out. Maybe he wasn’t needed. Hank could handle this on his own. You can handle this. Logan was here, you didn’t want him here, but it was a strange comfort knowing the man you loved was here to support you. Even if said surgery would remove all feelings for him. How poetic.

You stare at the ceiling, unsure of what to do as Hank moves around you. Logan who had been leaning on the wall walks over and takes your hand in his. Holding it as if you would shatter at the softest of touches. You hate it.

“Offer still stands darlin’. Can make the guy love you back.” Although the words would work well in a teasing tone. There was a hint of seriousness behind it. Like he didn’t want you to go under. To have the gardenias removed from your chest. Your hand squeezes his weakly. You knew you didn’t have much time left. You had to do this or confess. Only one of those was an actual option.

Hank returns and holds up the mask. You lift your head up as he slides it over your mouth and nose. It’s too late. You can feel the tears threatening to fall again. You’re scared. Your grip on Logan’s hand tightens as Hank moves around you, making sure you’re hooked up correctly. Your vision starts to blur slightly. You try to inhale the gas as deeply as you could, it hurt. Your lungs didn’t want to fill, you think you can feel the roots wiggling deeper through your lungs and closer to your heart. Your eyes are on Logan, fear clearly radiating off of you. Your own eyes showing the anxiety inside of you. Logan just stands strong next to you. Like a silent guard.

As the world starts to blacken around you, the corners of the room vanishing slowly. You couldn’t help yourself. You were getting the surgery. You can say the words now. It won’t matter. Your head was already floating and consciousness was fading. Eyes focusing on Logan, like a tunnel. All you could see was him as the world around you slowly vanished into nothingness. Three words slipped out of you without much thought.

“I love you.”

The world shifts and the world goes dark.

The quiet beeping echos. A steady rhythm that matches the slight pounding in your head. Your eyes slowly open, only to quickly shut again. The lights were a bit too bright and everything was… Numb. Your mouth feels dry and you physically can’t feel anything. Did the surgery go wrong? Why can’t you feel anything? A groan bubbles up from your throat as you force your eyes to open. That’s when you feel it.

You can feel every muscle, every fiber of the blanket covering you. The heaviness in your chest is gone. You take a breath. You can… You can take a breath. Your lungs are fully filled with oxygen. Chest rising higher than it has in months. You can breathe. Your eyes open again, the bright fluorescent lights above you illuminate the room. You tilt your head away from looking up at the ceiling. Eyes moving around the room. Gaze falling on the little monitor you’re hooked up to. The beeping was your heartbeat. Ok. That looked good.

Your head turns the other direction as you take in another sweet deep breath. Eyes landing on Logan. He was still here, sitting beside your bed, head lolled to the side clearly asleep. Your chest tightens in the familiar feeling you have been dealing with for months. That can’t be right. You shouldn’t still be feeling this longing. You shouldn’t still be feeling the warmth that spreads through you over the fact that he had stayed. You shouldn’t be feeling the soft tug on your heart as you look at him or the soft smile pulling on your lips.

This was wrong. Something was wrong. You raise the arm that wasn’t hooked up to all the devices and set it on your chest. There was pain there, raw and uncomfortable, but there was no bump on your chest to show there was a bandage, no pain pulling at your skin. The pain you felt was all under your skin. This isn’t right, something is wrong. Your chest felt clear but you have no evidence that you underwent the surgery. You force yourself to sit up. Pain shoots down your spine. You groaned in pain and a hand was suddenly pressing down on your shoulder. Forcing you back onto the bed. Logan had gotten up.

“Logan?” Your voice was scratchy. It felt just like the times you coughed up all those flowers when he found out. “What… What’s going on? Why do I…”

“Yeah it’s me. Lay back down. Can’t have you moving around too much yet.” Logan’s hand was still on your shoulder, a gentle pressure making you lay back down onto the bed. Your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the look he is giving you. You can’t read him. “Don’t talk too much either. Hank said you got to heal.”

Yet you’re pretty sure you didn’t get the surgery though! You should be dead. You… You told Logan how you felt. How you still feel. Yet the urge to cough is gone. Your chest feeling lighter than it has since before the disease took its hold on your life. That has to mean something. Something happened when you went under. What happened? Why won’t he tell you? Why is he looking at you like that?

Logan’s hand finally pulled away from your shoulder. He just stares down at you as you stare at him. Silence falls between you two. His hand then slowly moves again. Your eyes darting down to the hand. Slowly his hand goes to push some hair out of your face. The same look he has been giving you for the past few months crosses his face. You still don’t know what it means, but it is making your stomach flip.

“Glad you didn’t die for a guy like me. World be a lot darker without you in it.” His hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. His hand was soft and warm. The touch a bit too tender for someone like him.

Wait. Wait wait wait. He heard you. He heard what you said before going under. You didn’t go through the surgery yet your chest feels lighter than it should. That could only mean one thing. Your eyes go wide in surprise and your lips part as you go to speak. Pain still itching at your throat.

“You heard me…” Of course he heard you! He was right next to you holding your hand. He has enhanced senses. He heard you confess. He heard you say you loved him. You’re still alive, you still feel for him and you confessed! That has to mean. Your face suddenly lights up. Heat pooling both on your cheeks and in your stomach. There is only one explanation. There is only one way you were able to live and still feel this way. Logan loved you back. That doesn’t make sense though! Before you started smelling like flowers the two of you never spoke to one another. Yet he…

He loved you back.

“Yeah, I did. Could have told me sooner to save you the pain. Told ya I’d make sure the guy felt the same.” His hand leaves your face. He turns to grab the chair he had been sitting in before and pulls it over. The chair legs screeching across the floor making you flinch at the noise. Once the chair was next to you he sat down and took your hand in his again. Once more treating you like glass. Though you appreciate it, you feel like glass right now.

Logan lifts your hand up to his face, blue eyes staring straight into your own as his lips find your knuckles. Leaving a soft kiss. You were already blushing before, but you swear you feel like you’re on fire. His lips brushing against your knuckles as he speaks once more. You really aren’t used to hearing him speak so much. “Looks like we got a lot to talk about sweetheart.”

You just silently nod, unable to break your gaze from his. Your hand is lowered, your heart beating out of your chest. You are sure he can hear it. You lick your lips, unable to speak a word out of fear you’ll embarrass yourself further. Logan just chuckles slightly, a deep reverberating one.

“Guess I should say it, not really good with the emotions shit, but I love you too.”

A few blinks and then a small laugh comes out of you. A wince follows after, but the biggest grin spreads on your face. All it took was you almost dying to finally hear those three little words. You’ll never look at gardenias the same again, nor will you be able to stand the sickly sweet smell of a strong floral scent. That doesn’t matter to you though. You obtained something you thought was unattainable. The love of the man you were in love with. The secret love no longer hidden.

You can now understand the look Logan was giving you. It was the same you had been giving him. You both were in love with each other but were unsure how to go about it. All it took was the flowers that no longer were growing inside of you.

You finally say the words, more confident than when you went under. “I love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart.”

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