#THIS IS NOT MY EYE DOCTOR'S FAULT -- THIS IS A MANAGEMENT PROBLEM SHE'S COMPLAINED ABOUT BEFORE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aperrywilliams · 5 years ago

Text

Couvade (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: The team having weeks full of work, traveling across the country. Tiredness is taking its toll on Reader and Spencer.

Word Count: 3747.

Warnings: References to headaches, stomachaches, and another “aches” as well. Couple discussions. Spencer losing his temper. Spencer and Reader clueless. But fluffy in the end.

A/N: Work has drained all my energy these last few weeks. Something from our favorite doctor to get me back.

——————–

In recent months the cases that were coming to the BAU were a true roller coaster in many ways: some simpler, others tremendously difficult and rough. Some local others far across the country.

With all this turmoil, there wasn't much time left for personal life. My advantage, if I had to compare myself to my colleagues, was that my boyfriend worked with me and at least we could see each other a few moments a day and spend some time together on the jet traveling from one place to another.

I think Spencer also saw it as an advantage, even though as the weeks went by following this same rhythm he was much more irritable and angry than usual. Not that Spencer is an irritable man by definition, quite the contrary, but the work’ stress was taking its toll on us and he was no exception.

One of the few mornings we were able to be quiet in the BAU offices, I approached his desk. It caught my attention that he had the palms of his hands covering his mouth.

“Spencer, ¿what’s wrong?”. Looking at him, I saw that he was paler than usual.

“Nothing , I'm fine. I just feel a little nauseous. Apparently the muffin for breakfast made my stomach funny”, he lamented.

“Baby , I'm sorry. I should have asked when it was made when I bought it,” I tried to apologize.

“It's not your fault. It may be that my stomach is more fussy than usual,” he said with a sigh. Sigh that was apparently interrupted by another nausea. In two seconds Spencer was on her feet running towards the bathroom.

Not that Spencer is a tremendously healthy person, but it was rare to see him sick, except for his headaches and his periods of insomnia, which we were both used to living with from time to time. But this was different. Spencer rarely caught a cold or had stomach problems, even given all the coffee and sugar she consumed daily.

In general, when men feel sick they are like children . And in Spencer Reid that was increased by three. Thus, throughout that day I was concerned with checking his condition, preparing herbal tea and doing everything possible to prevent him from drinking coffee. When we got to the apartment that we had shared for more than a year, I made sure to make soup for him and send him to bed early.

In the following days his stomach discomfort began to disappear. A relief, because my genius boyfriend was unbearable during all those days, so much that we argued about almost anything. I also felt irritable and overwhelmed by the amount of work we had, and besides having to take care of Spencer .

Another case, another trip. On the jet on the way to San Francisco, and after reviewing details of the case, I went to sit next to Spencer. I wanted to apologize for our last discussion that morning. When I got closer he was reading a book, but I knew he wasn't really reading since the pages weren't turning. I was sure he was attentive to how I approached his side.

“Spencer... baby...,” I said in the softest and most tender voice I could. I did not get an answer. “Spencer ... can you look at me please?”. The second call was less friendly. He raised his eyes to look at me.

“I'm looking at you (Y/N),” he replied with a bored expression that began to annoy me and even regret wanting to apologize.

“Thank you. Can you close your book too? I need to talk to you”. Not very enthusiastically he shut the book and put it to the side of the seat.

“Done. What do you want to talk about?”. Same look and same voice. I didn't want to be upset with him, but he was making it difficult for me. I took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I want to apologize for our discussion this morning. I know I said not very kind things to you. None of that was truth, you have to believe me. It's just that I also feel overwhelmed by everything and I understand that you are tired, but I am too and you know that I say things without thinking when I am like this…”. His gaze softened when he saw that I was genuine and tears even started to come out of me without my meaning to. He sighed and extended his arms for me to snuggle with him, which I did immediately burying my face into his chest.

“I must also apologize. I didn't react in the best way either. I yelled at you and that's not right. I also feel overwhelmed and tired, more than usual. Being sick last week didn't help me much either… ”. He hugged me tight so I felt his words were sincere.

“I'm sorry. I hope this job’s rhythm drops in the next few days, I don't want to live fighting with you”. I said giving him a soft kiss on his chin and drying my tears.

“I don’t want that either. In fact, I think we should take a few days off, just for us. At this point I am having a hard time separating work’s moments from our private’s moments,” he stated.

Spencer was right. What seemed to be positive also had its bad side: Which was the real boundary between the professional and the personal? We always tried our relationship wasn’t a problem for our job, but it was also important to do the reverse exercise: our job shouldn't be a problem for our relationship either.

All this time that we had been on this beat - more than 10 weeks and counting – we had no enough time to spend together like a real couple. The last time we had sex was before Spencer got sick and it was a quicky in my hotel room during a case in Denver. And before that, I don’t even remember well.

I hadn't felt very good either. Going from place to place around the country had me dizzy most of the time and with headaches for weeks. Of course, none of that managed to incapacitate me at work, so I didn’t take it seriously and didn’t tell anyone about it . I also had a few days with stomach pain and nausea, which I explained by the poor diet we were having between so much travel. After a few weeks I began to feel better from these discomforts, but irritability and tiredness continued.

I was still cuddling with Spencer when I felt him whine shifting for a more comfortable position into the seat.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?,” I asked lifting my head to look at him.

“Since yesterday I have a back pain that is killing me. (Y/N), I still have some years to go to turn 40 and I already feel like an old man!,” he complained.

“We haven't slept well either. Hotel beds are not the best. I have also had back pain some weeks ago. But I think I'm used to that and it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m complaining about my pain and you too haven't felt well lately. I'm failing miserable as a boyfriend”. He gave me a kiss on the forehead, hugging me tight again.

“I didn't want to worry you with those things. I know how you get when something happens to me, surely you would have insisted on me taking a leave. And it's not a big deal. The worst is the tiredness and the bad mood, besides that I feel that my body weighs on me. I gained weight grossly. I look awful,” I said, pouting.

“Of course you’re not. You look beautiful. Tired… but beautiful”. He took my chin and gave me a soft kiss on my lips.

“You say it just to not make me feel bad,” I replied when we pulled away.

“(Y/N), I mean it. You know I like everything about you,” Spencer replied as he stroked my back and rested his chin on my head. How I missed those moments with Spencer, even though I wish they weren't on the jet on their way to a case.

The San Francisco case was terrible. We were in the fifth day and couldn't identify the unsub yet. We were sleeping very little and badly. We couldn't even agree between ourselves on the profile, which triggered a heated discussion with Spencer while we were in the meeting room we had been assigned to work. The worst thing was having this argument in front of the whole team.

“You are not seeing the obvious (Y/N), it’s impossible this can be done by a single person. There aren't any hints of that in the evidence”. Spencer spat as he pointed to the board with the notes and photos we had.

“Are you saying I don't know how to do my job? I am seeing the same evidence as you, but you are so obsessed with your theory that you are not able to think of other possibilities”, I replied back.

“Obsessed? Oh no, no. The only one obsessed with a theory here is you. You have not put any evidence of what you are saying!”

“Don’t say that. Look at this board! What do all these photos tell you? Why couldn't it be a single person with a psychotic break? Can't you see the pattern? I began to despair and inadvertently tears I couldn’t control began to fall. That upset Spencer even more.

“Your crying isn’t going to convince me of this stupid theory (Y/N)!,” he shot almost making my heart shatter. Watching the exchange grow increasingly rough, Prentiss finally intervened.

“Reid! Enough!,” she said seeing how I couldn't control my tears and my hands started to shake. At the wake-up call, Spencer fell silent and realized my state. I started to feel dizzy. He tried to grab my arm and I avoided him.

“Don’t touch me!,” I yelled at him, as I headed straight to leave the room, but the dizziness intensified and I fell to the floor losing consciousness.

***

I managed to grab (Y/N)'s head before it hit the floor. At that moment I realized that I had lost my temper and had pushed (Y/N) to the limit. JJ immediately came over to help me. We checked the pulse and checked for any injuries. Meanwhile, Rossi went in search of the paramedics.

I felt a lump in my throat. Suddenly the nausea returned. I couldn't help myself and ran to the bathroom. I was cursing myself for not being able to control myself. My girlfriend had passed out because of me and I couldn't even be with her because I felt sick again.

When I came out of the bathroom I was intercepted by Emily in the hallway. She told me that (Y/N) had regained consciousness but they would take her to the hospital for a check-up anyway. I just wanted to go with her.

“JJ went with her and the paramedics. I'll let you go with her, but first tell me what's going on between you both. You two have been between fights and reconciliations for weeks. Your mood is a roller coaster, we no longer know what happens to you. I understand that we are all tired of this rhythm, but in you guys it seems like something unbearable! Are you okay? Can you tell me Spencer…”. Emily was right. We had weeks between discussions and mutual apologies. Now, I couldn't find a mildly convincing reason for the situation.

“I honestly don't know. I don't know what happens to us. Until a few weeks ago everything was fine and now… I don't know. I can't control myself. There are days when I feel tired, jaded. Others where everything seems normal. I have felt sick more often. I can't even stand myself sometimes,” I said scratching my head.

“Whatever it’s, I think you need to talk. This kind of outburst can't happen again, Spencer. Now go with her”

“Are you sure?... what about the case?...” I asked.

“Unbelievably, your argument gave us a clue. Rossi, Luke, and Tara are analyzing it now. So don't worry about the case, go. Talk to (Y/N)”. I nodded and ran to the hospital.

***

When I regained consciousness I was still in the meeting room, JJ was holding my head and a paramedic was checking my vitals. I felt embarrassed. I wanted to get up but JJ wouldn't let me. She told me that they would take me to the hospital to check me up even though I had already regained consciousness. I just shrugged. I didn’t know why so much commotion, for me it was just fatigue and the anger of the moment. Anger that still ran through my body, because I didn't even want to ask where Spencer was.

At the hospital a nurse came to my room and asked JJ leave the room for a moment. Then she took blood samples from me, measured my blood pressure, among other things. When she was doing that she asked me what happened. The nurse asked me too about my health in the previous weeks and I told her about my back pain, bloating, headaches, nausea and dizziness. She just nodded and told me that we should wait for the tests to rule out things and conclude if it was only fatigue and stress that triggered my fainting. Then she left the room and JJ came in again.

“What did she tell you?,” JJ asked me.

“Nothing yet. She took samples and said we have to wait,” I replied shrugging.

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. I guess it's stress. In the last two months we have not had a truce JJ, I don't know how you are still standing…,” I said with a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. We have had very intense weeks lately. But it looks like it hit you and Spencer a lot harder. Are you two okay?”. There was genuine concern in her voice, but honestly I didn't have an explanation beyond the obvious: stress.

“Yes , I guess. I mean, it's true that we've argued more often, but that doesn't change how I feel about Spencer. In the opposite. It's weird what I'm going to say, but I miss him. I mean, I miss our moments together without having to think about work or argue”. I hadn't realized that tears were already coming from my eyes. “Shit JJ, and now I'm crying and I don't know why… I should be mad! He yelled at me in front of everyone and called me stupid!”

“You need to talk about it, (Y/N). I'm sure he didn't mean it”

“He is an idiot, JJ. He is almost more insufferable than me…”. I crossed my arms over my chest frowning just thinking about what happened. And as if it were fate, at that precise moment Spencer Reid made his appearance in the hospital room.

***

I walked into the hospital room and saw (Y/N) on the bed with her arms crossed over her chest talking to JJ. They both looked at me standing in the doorway. I could see (Y/N)’s anger on her face. She had right, I wasn't going to blame her for that. I steeled myself and approached (Y/N). If I had to receive her anger, I was willing to accept it.

“How do you feel?,” I asked. I wanted to take her hand, but she quickly pushed it away.

“Fine”. She didn't even want to look at me. Her eyes fixed on her feet covered by the hospital bed’s sheets. At that moment JJ got up from her chair heading to the door.

“I’ll be outside calling the team. I let you talk for a while”. On leaving JJ closed the door. (Y/N) still didn't look at me.

“(Y/N)… I’m so sorry. Baby, I'm really sorry. I lost control. I don’t know what happened to me. Nothing I said I meant it. (Y/N), you have to believe me, I don't want you to think I don't value your job. That’s not true, you are invaluable to the team. You are an excellent profiler…,” I was looking at her with pleading eyes.

“You yelled at me. You treated me lousy. I don't know what is wrong with you. If you're as overwhelmed as I am, that doesn't give you the right to do what you did either”. She looked up and I could see that she was hurt. That broke my heart.

“I know. I'm sorry. I don’t know what's happening to me these weeks. I would like to give you a better explanation, but I don't have one. I know it’s wrong and I promise I will do whatever it takes to make up to you. I love you, (Y/N). I can’t stand see you hurt because of me”. This time she reached for my hand and squeezed it hard.

“I should hate you Spencer Reid. But I can't…” (Y/N) said shaking her head and huffing. “I guess I must believe you this time. You are not forgiven yet, though,” she warned me. I kissed her hand nodding in agreement. At that moment the doctor entered the room, still checking a folder with many papers.

“Miss (Y/L/N), good afternoon, I’m Dr. Anna Ragger, how are you feeling?”

“Much better now, thank you doctor,” the doctor nodded looking at me. “He is Spencer Reid, my boyfriend,” (Y/N) hastened to explain.

“Ah. Nice to meet you. Well, I have the results from your blood tests.” I was standing next to (Y/N) without releasing her hand.

“Is there something I should be concerned about doctor?”, (Y/N) asked.

“It depends on what you consider to be a concern, but I would say no,” doctor replied with a shy smile on her face. I looked at (Y/N) who had the same confused face as me. Before the doctor could say anything else, I felt my stomach twist again. Dr. Ragger looked at me strangely.

“Is something wrong sir?,” she asked. When my nausea subsided, I was only able to speak.

“I'm fine. I've only been with some stomachaches for a few weeks…,” I mumbled.

“What else did you feel? Fatigue? Headaches? Body aches? Mood changes?,” Dr. Ragger asked. I looked at her in amazement. She had perfectly described my symptoms of the past weeks. (Y/N) was frowning trying to understand what was happening.

“Yeah… ehm… all of them. Well, we've had very difficult weeks at work,” I replied. The doctor tried to hide a smile.

“Have you heard of Couvade syndrome?,” I thought for a few seconds and yes, I knew what it was.

“Yeah. Couvade syndrome is something that happens to men when their partners are pregnant. It emulates the symptoms that women experience during the first trimester of pregnancy,” I explained. The doctor nodded, smiling. (Y/N) dropped her jaw. Dr. Ragger, seeing I had not thought enough about my own words, intervened again.

“That likely explains your symptoms...”

“You mean I have that syndrome? I don't think so, because for that to happen (Y/N) would have to be... oh!”. The realization hit me like a freight train. “Oh!”, I exclaimed and looked at (Y/N) and then turned my eyes again to the doctor. “(Y/N) is...?”

“That's right, Miss (Y/L/N) is pregnant. Congratulations!”.

“Oh my God, are you sure Dr. Ragger?,” (Y/N) asked almost jumping out of bed. I started to feel dizzy. Dr. Ragger noticed my reaction and helped me to sit in the chair where JJ was before leaving the room.

“Yes miss (Y/L/N), your symptoms are consistent with pregnancy, and the blood tests confirmed it. My guess is that you must be in your 10th week of pregnancy, which would explain why your boyfriend would be experiencing similar symptoms. It doesn't happen to all men, of course, but there is always a possibility,” she explained. A little less dizzy I got up from the chair and stand beside (Y/N) holding her hand, still paralyzed. She was astonished yet.

“Well. Now that we are clear about the reasons for your symptoms, you are ready to go home miss (Y/L/N). Talk to your obstetrician about the next steps. Congratulations again,” Dr. Ragger stated before leaving the room.

Once we stayed alone in the room, (Y/N) shook her head in disbelieve. Maybe my face still didn't reflect it, but inside I was burning with happiness. Admittedly, it wasn't something we would have planned, but I was ecstatic at the news. I noticed tears began to roll down (Y/N)'s cheeks. I panicked. Maybe she was not happy with the news.

“Baby, what is it?”

“Spencer... we hadn't planned this. We hadn't even talked about the possibility of having children. And now it's happening... I’m happy, but I don't know if you want this. I can't force you to be with me for that. If you're not comfortable with this, it’s okay, I'll understand... really,” (Y / N) began to cry. I took her cheeks with my hands.

“Hey, look at me. Everything is gonna be okay. We will be okay. I love you so much (Y/N), and that's reason enough for me wanting everything with you. I want to be with you, I want to have children with you. I want you to be my wife. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make me the happiest man in the world, and that is why it hurts when I see you suffer for something I did. Please forgive me for these days that I have put you through...,” I said kissing her forehead. I could feel her body relaxed at my words. She took a deep breath.

“Only if you're willing to forgive me for what I'm going to put you through in the next few months... and the rest of your life, Dr. Reid,” (Y/N) said now with a small smile on her face.

“Fair is fair. I'll face it happily,” I replied laughing. I was so pleased seeing the woman who made me so happy every day smiling again.

“I love you Spencer,” she said in a whisper into my lips before kissing me.

“I love you… both,” I replied when we parted. Both smiling and happy for what the future held for us.

——————–

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #couvade

149 notes · View notes

diaco1968 · 5 years ago

Text

Of Proud Fragile Hearts

Bakugou x reader

Angst, Blood is mentioned, Hanahaki disease

Under the cut cause it got too long :')

"What is your problem, Katsuki?"

You whisper yelled at Bakugou after everyone else had already left the conference room, closing the door and locking it as you turned to face the boy, leaning back in his chair, arms tightly crossed over his broad chest, scowling.

In the past few months that you two have been secretly hooking up, he had gone through not caring about your daily life, to trying to make you listen to his healthy tips, to fleeting episodes of jealousy and then some. Yet when you pointed it out to him he would deny it. Usually either by changing the subject and leading it to your usual ordeal of a hook up or if he was still feeling possesive by moving straight to pinning you down and shutting you up by some steamy make out session. Either way, the hook up is what would happen and then you'd both go away on your separate daily lives.

You had grown fund of him enough not to mind getting together with him if he was the one who'd step up first. Hell you would love to. He was hot, he knew how to spoil you, he remembered little things and despite his fiery temper he knew how to treat you properly like a woman. To sum it up, he was boyfriend material. Except he was emotionally unavailable. And you were fine with that. But recently as you started making friends with Kaminari, Bakugou also started acting up. You two acted like mere acquaintances in public and in the agency it was lonely. Then there was Kaminari, the Pikachu. He was easy to be around, easy to talk to and easy to listen to. So you befriended him. It was really nothing at all. You'd hang out with him when you couldn't hang out with Bakugou. Much to Bakugou's dismay, those times would be right in front of his eyes, earning you dirty looks and some sulking episodes every time.

And now only minutes ago during the briefing, he had been sitting across from you and Kaminari, and when Kaminari said anything he would mock and humiliate him. It was hard to even watch so you stood up for him and Bakugou shot you a nasty look before he stopped participating all together. Honestly you were glad he didn't start mocking you instead. But this behaviour towards the poor guy was unacceptable. He didn't even know why he was being targeted by Bakugou's wrath.

His eyes shot up to yours not believing what he was hearing. "What is my problem?! What the fuck is your problem!" He shot back, earning a 'Shhh!' from you. "You had no business picking on Denki like that." You scolded and he sneered "Denki?" You rolled your eyes glaring at him as he went on "you had no business sitting with Denki the whole day long. You had no business snickering and chatting and flirting with him during the conference like that. You had no fucking business standing up to me for him!" He leaned forward in his chair, placing his arms on his knees.

"We were not flirting! Everyone knows about his crush on that recruit from the IT for fuck's sake. And Denki is my friend, Bakugou! Who are you? Should I have been sitting by you? Chatting you up?" You said harshly, sarcasm dripping off of your last few words. To his sheer surprise, he felt his chest tighten from the way you addressed him with his last name right after you called Kaminari by his first name. He knew you had a point. He knew he was the one setting things up the way they were, for his work always came first and in his path to success there was no place for a full time partner or dealing with the rumours of one even existing. He knew he had no right to complain about this now. Yet, he couldn't help the pang of jealousy that rose deep in his heart whenever he saw you hanging out with that dunceface so freely.

Your keen eyes seemed to have caught him slightly off guard and your own pent up hurt and rejection clawed at your logic before you could stop yourself and you went in for another low blow "even if I am flirting with anyone, it is none of your business unless it gets physical. That was the deal. Take it or leave it."

His jaw visibly clenched, nostrils flaring as he inhaled sharply before snorting "so that's the problem. You already have some one else for back up to warm your bed just in case, huh?" there was no way to take it back now, and he was too angry to try. You watched him in silence, disbelief and hurt written all over your face. At first he felt triumphant for rendering you speechless with his snarky remark but seeing the hurt in your eyes and your pursed lips he regretted opening his mouth at all. He wished you would just yell at him, punch him even. But you did nothing as a few minutes of torturous silence passed on between the two of you, your eyes searching his face for a sign that the man you loved and cared for didn't actually come to know you as such a person he just described. You had thought you were at least friends. He opened his mouth when he saw your eyes started to glisten but before he could say anything, you exploded.

"You know what Bakugou! Fuck you! You and your whole bullshit!" You threw the first thing you could grab at him which happened to be an empty glass, that missed his head when he docked shattering on the wall behind him. "You're so emotionally unstable, you don't even know what the fuck you want yourself! Let alone get to know anyone else you arrogant piece of shit!"

His brief sadness from making you upset faded from his mind as rage took it's place filling him up to the brim and spilling out as he shot up in his place, his chair scraping on the floor and falling back. He slammed his hands on the table in front of him, saying words he had come to feel anxious even thinking about hearing "oh fuck it all to hell. You wanna know what I want, fuckwipe? You're a waste of time, I want this over and done with. We're through!" He headed for the door walking right past you.

His insult really dealt some heavy damage on your pride as angry tears filled up your eyes and you gathered all you had not to let them spill "fine with me Fuckboy! Go be a nuisance to someone else!"

He had his hand on the doorknob, knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping it with anger, he pulled it once and found it locked. Not bothering to unlock it, he exploded the whole thing open loudly, the door turning on it's hinges and slamming on the opposite wall, him stepping out and leaving amidst the dust barking at the peering colleagues who scattered away immediately "what?! Get back to work extras!"

You left the room after you made sure he was gone, hoping you could hold your emotional breakdown in the whole way home, having to raise your hand up to your mouth to suppress the multiple coughs as you inhaled the dust from the explosion.

He kicked his boots off, threw his jacket to the side and plopped down on the couch covering his face with his hands and releasing a heavy groan "ugh what the actual fuck did I say... stupid fucking dumbass..." his hands were cold and fingers shaky from the after effects of the rage leaving his body but he was too stubborn to let remorse invade his mind yet. Not fully at least. You were at fault too! "She shouldn't have provoked me like that! Annoying brat!" He spat as he lay down on the couch, but In the back of his mind, your hurt glistening eyes and shocked expresseion was creeping in the darker abyss of his brain, haunting him slowly. Then his mind wandered to the argument, your words resonating in his now mostly dark and empty mind.

'Who are you Bakugou?'

'Take it or leave it'

The way you said that so nonchalantly... did you not care at all if he left you?... after all you've been through? He wouldn't ever say it, but he had opened up to you more than anyone, you knew that. He knew you did.

'Fuckboy'

'Nuisance'

His throat constricted violently and he had to sit up and cough harshly to clear it. "Tsk fuck it. I don't give a shit." Rising from his seat he went to the fridge to get something to eat and grabbed his phone to call Eijiro to see what he was up to tonight.

"You've been sick for a while now, maybe you should see a doctor? It doesn't look like a simple cold..."

Bakugou waved his hand nonchalantly, dismissing Kirishima's concerns as he coughed into the palm of his other hand, shutting his eyes and trying to concentrate on controlling his breathing through his nose. Even though he feigned indifference he was worried himself too. It's been 2 weeks since the coughing started and it wasn't just coughing either. He would occasionally find himself out of breath and unable to get enough oxygen in his lungs without opening his mouth and taking in a sharp gulp of air. As if he was losing his lung capacity. '(Y/n) would know how to get rid of this...' he groaned in annoyance as he caught himself thinking about you again. You had made your choice. It was obvious. He even texted you to meet up, but you've been ignoring him ever since the argument half a month ago... felt like years...

His heart clenched, along with his jaw as he felt another epiode of coughs coming. He rose to his feet and headed for the bathroom "be back in a sec." He replied to Kirishima's questioning look with a hoarse voice. The noise cancelling bar bathroom was starting to become too familiar for his liking, as he had frequented it quite often in the past 2 weeks. Not alcoholic often, but the free time he usually spent with you was now spent working over time or with Eijiro at his favorite place...

He burst out into another coughing fit, gripping the sink as he bent over it. He could feel a hard lump move in his throat as he heaved his lungs out, finally managing to spit out what was stuck in his airways. And to his utmost horror he was not relieved at all by the sight and the sound.

What spilled out of his mouth and scattered inside the sink with soft 'thud' sound, was a fist full worth of what looked to be... seeds?!

His hand shot out and grabbed a few bringing them close to his eyes and squeeshing them between his fingers to make sure. "What the fuck...?!" He whispered mind wandering to each and everyone of his recent quarells with the villains trying to recall anyone at all with a floral quirk. Was this what caused the coughing?

It took him quite a while to get over the initial shock but when he was sure he wasn't coughing anymore he headed back to his table with Kirishima, plopping down tiredly in his seat. "You look pale bro, what's up? You weren't a light weight last time I checked." Eijiro teased, making him smirk tauntingly in reply "I can drink 5 times as much as it takes to knock you off your feet and still be barely tipsy, dumbass. Don't test me." They both laughed and Bakugou forgot about his problems for a little while, hoping spitting out those seeds was the end of it.

And it seemed to be. He hadn't coughed for a while now. At least not until the breaking news popped up over the screen right across from where he was sitting.

"The notorious spider villain escaped the law once again but hero (your hero name) managed to save all the victims, with the help of none other than hero Deku, who just landed a few hours ago for his vacation-..."

The words flashed in his mind and the voice of the reporter faded as he watched the screen showing the scene after the rescue, where you were talking to that bastard Deku, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with a grin, like you used to do when Bakugou made you shy and you never had any idea how cute it made you look, and he was smiling down at you.

Violent coughs errupted out of his chest and he covered his mouth just in time to stop the content from spilling out as he shot up from his seat and made his way outside for some fresh air. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gasped for air lightly, leaning on his shoulder on the wall outside, opening his palm to see the same few seeds and a bunch of delicate red and white petals. He stared at his palm with wide eyes for a few more seconds before crumbling them in his fist as he felt someone's presence behind him. "I really really think you should see a doctor." Kirishima put a hand on his shoulder.

"I will. Right fucking now actually. This shit is so annoying."

"I said when I cough flowers come out- ugh! Hey! I know I sound crazy! Don't stare at me like that!" He let out a frustrated groan as he sat there on the bed for his check up, answering the confused doctor. "We have not encountered this before mr Bakugou, you don't sound crazy. I would have to check the database again for quirks with this kind of side effect. Meanwhile if you could... provide a sample would be really useful."

"Sure, I'll just cough my lungs out for buried seeds till you get back..." Bakugou clicked his tongue and gestured for the doctor to show it was okay to go do whatever he needed to do.

And again he sat there alone and annoyed, watching the rest of the hospital, from the little space he was provided by the door that the doctor forgot to close properly.

You always refused to close the door too...

He had forgotten how lonely a hospital felt before he had you to fuss over him as he sat there grumbling that he was fine.

He heaved a careful sigh zoning out so when he saw your face, he thought he had imagined it at first.

"Ms. (Y/h/n)! You did amazing today! The room you're looking for is just at the end of this corridor to the left. You actually did a good job finding it." The excited nurse chuckled and Bakugou snapped out of his daze hearing your muffled voice thanking her.

'Always so bad with directions...' he thought bitterly swallowing the lump that was raising in his throat in favour of getting up and following you quietly. He just wanted to know why you were in the hospital, is all. Just making sure your clumsy ass didn't hurt yourself.

He stopped outside the door you disappeared into on the other side of the corridor, blended in by the moving patients and busy staff, scoffing sarcastically as you didn't bother closing the door.

His little smile was soon gone however when he saw who you were visiting.

Sat there on the hospital bed was none other than Deku, who had his forearm wrapped in some light bandage. Probably from the rescue they showed on TV earlier. Where you were too. It was normal. You checking up on him after. Totally normal. He reminded himself. 'I could do that at home shitty nerd, no need for a hospital.'

Normal was not where it ended though and what happened next as you got up to leave had Bakugou wishing he had ripped his eyes off you and walked away the moment he had figured you were alright.

"Guess I'll be seeing you around then. Oh and Midoriya," you chuckled mischievously leaning close to whisper in the boy's ear. "I wish you luck with Ochako." Just as you expected, heat rose to his face and he flushed red to the tips of his ears as he started stuttering embarassed and his hand moved up to rub his bandaged arm "ouch!.. I mean!... thank you!"

You both jumped as you heard something metal clattering to the ground in the hallway and you peeked out to see what was going on. Much to your surprise and concern you saw a familiar spiky blonde hair a little further down the corridor. 'Katsuki?' You leaned out of the room more to see better. He looked like he had a terrible time trying to breathe, his shoulders shaking as he heaved cough after cough, bent down with his arms keeping himself up on his slightly bent knees. Your heart clenched at the sight. He looked in pain. The nurse Bakugou had supposedly crashed into, causing him to drop his metal platter to the ground put a hand on his back to try and calm him down. But Bakugou just swatted his hand away "...don't... touch..." he managed to rasp out with an unusually hoarse voice as he gained enough composure to push past the nurse and walk away, still coughing but much less violently.

"What was it?" Deku asked from inside the room.

"Nothing, just a nurse dropping a bunch of stuff..." you said quietly concealing the worry in your voice as you stared after Bakugou down the corridor even after he was already gone.

Blood. Blood and petals. And the occasional flower bloom falling out of his mouth as he coughed. He had been wiping blood off his mouth since he had gotten home from the hospital. The feeling of constantly having one of those petals sticking to the back of his trachea. It was disgusting. The sickening sweet scent filling his nose and mouth made him want to gag. They had suggested hospitalization when they couldn't find anything on his condition and he had refused. But now as the pain in his throat grew ever more intolerable, he was trying his last hope for an answer as he looked for the contact in his phone, playing with the little flower in between his fingers with his free hand absentmindedly.

'Amaryllis...'

He had looked up the shape of the flower as soon as he had seen it, washing the blood off the petals. None of this made any sense to him. How does one cough out flowers? How was this even real?

He dialed the number immediately when he saw the contact name.

"Aizawa sensei"

Despite your efforts to completely ignore Bakugou's existence after your 'break up', you've had Baugou back on your mind ever since a few days ago in the hospital and it wasn't in the best of ways either. His tense shaky shoulders, his harsh hoarse voice, his pained dry heaves. It all sounded and looked so serious but you had no idea what he was down with and it was killing you. You were constantly distracted and it was proving to be such a hassle. Oh how you wished you were not alone in this very moment. Alone in the middle of a crowded square full of civilians.

"What's wrong girly? Can't beat me now without that green lettuce, huh?"

Alone against this dude known as the spider villain. Who was back to take his revenge on the humiliation you and Deku gave him last encounter.

"Oh fuck off bug. Those are your last words before being sprayed back to the sewers?"

You growled getting in your fighting stance and ushering him to come at you.

Bakugou was walking down the street towards the hospital, crumbling the piece of paper with the surgeon's address and name in his fist, deep in his pocket thinking on his meeting with his former teacher a few days ago.

'Amaryllis?' Aizawa had said the moment he saw the bloom in Bakugou's hand, much to his surprise. He never took the old man as a flower person. 'I've only ever seen this once with my own eyes when I was a student myself... wouldn't believe it if I hadn't.' He had pulled out a bunch of old books handing half the stack to Bakugou, probably deliberately chosen ones as there was one on the meaning behind flowers in Bakugou's stack. As he sat down in front of the boy turning pages rapidly scanning the words, Bakugou reluctantly read the book.

'Amaryllis is the only genus in the subtribe Amaryllidinae. It is a small genus of flowering bulbs, with two species. It symbolizes pride.'

He stared at the lines, reading them over and over again with a blank face. Until Aizawa's voice broke him out of his trance.

'Hanahaki Disease is a disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated...'

He paused making Bakugou wonder if it was for adding more dramatic effects as his eyes moved up to lock with Bakugou's

'...until the victim dies unless the feelings of genuine love are returned or the plants are surgically removed but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient’s feelings for and memories of the enamoured.'

It was obvious what Bakugou chose. There was no place in his life for such a hassle as love. It would just get in his way anyway. What a nuisance...

'Nuisance'

'Fuckboy'

His heart clenched making a surge of pain go throught his whole body remembering your words and your tone.

"Reciprocating feelings of genuine love my ass..."

He scoffed pushing his fists deeper in his pockets to keep his shoulders from shaking as a series of coughs ripped out of his throat, staining the black mask in front of his face, with blood.

He bumped shoulders with a guy in front of a TV store who looked distraught enough not to recognize Ground Zero as he apologised and turned back to the TVs on the display in the windows.

Feeling insulted, Bakugou turned to look at what this man was watching that got him so stupid to stand in his way. The moment his eyes met the screen he felt as if his heart stopped. Hands freezing cold and eyes going wide with terror as he watched the live report of none other than you being picked up and thrown a distance away aginst a wall by some villain.

Lying there in the rubble of the building you gasped to catch your breath that flew out of you when your back hit the wall. Before you could wholly come to your senses he was above you again, grabbing you by the neck and picking you back up. Your hands shot up to grab his arm to try and relieve the pressure around your neck, your feet dangling in the air as you tried to kick him off of you but he was smart, keeping you away from himself.

"Just as I thought. I should've found the broccoli. You are a waste of time."

Bakugou's face and a bunch of memories flooded your mind and your eyes stung with unshed tears, feeling it ironic to have to hear this again in what appeared to be the final moments of your life.

The corners of your vision were blurring out as you couldn't breathe in anymore air and you were sure you imagined his voice in your head.

"Get off you fucking bastard!"

The loud growl accompanied by the sound of a loud explosion and the hand around your neck disappearing, the pressure gone. You dropped to the floor on your hands and knees gasping in and looking up to see Bakugou launching himself at the guy who was framed in the opposite wall due to the initial explosion. His bare fist met the bug man's face with a sickening 'crack' and only then did you realise he wasn't even in his hero costume.

"Bakugou... I'm fine..."

You tried calling him but your voice was too strangled. He was delivering punch after curse after punch and the guy seemed to be knocked out long ago.

"Bakugou! Stop..."

You said louder as you got to your feet making your way towards him, hesitating momentarily before grabbing his shoulder and ripping him off of the bloodied beat up guy.

"KATSUKI!"

His whole heavy sweating panting body whirled around and crashed into your arms, making you trip backwards on your feet and fall on your butt still holding him.

Very unlikely for him to be so ungraceful and fall with you like that, he would usually catch you and scold you for being clumsy. Out of habit you braced yourself for his scolding but it never came.

He started wheezing and gasping in your arms, unable to breathe, whatever air he had left in his lungs being forced out by the violent coughs that wracked through his whole body, his hands moving up to grasp at his throat squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"F-fuck... h-hurts..." he wheezed out twisting in your lap as you watched him in terror.

"W-what's wrong? Holy shit! Katsu you're turning blue!"

You didn't know what took over you as your hands moved on their own accord, grabbing his jaw, forcing his mouth open and plunging your fingers down his throat. What you pulled out would haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life.

Bakugou started gasping in big gulps of air when you removed your hands from his face, but you couldn't see him anymore. You were staring at the thing that was previously clogging his airways. A whole, leaf, stem and flower petals between your fingers, dripping with fresh blood and saliva; mouth falling open and paling even more, if possible, at the sight.

Bakugou looked up once he could breathe again and couldn't help but whimper quietly at the thing you just pulled out of his own throat. The sound making your eyes snap back on him even more concerned than when he was choking. "What the fuck is this?!" You asked showing him the flower, as if either of you could ever forget about it, instinctively cupping his cheek and stroking it with your thumb. He looked surprised and you immediately realised your mistake pulling your hand away "sorry force of habit... but... answer me!"

Your touch was soothing to the ache in his damaged throat and he was so in pain already that he didn't care if he was going to sound pathetic or needy or clingy... or... sorry. He opened his mouth to tell you to put your hand back on him but instead of words he had to cough, fresh blood mixed with the sickly sweet scent of the flower spraying over both your clothes, making you panic again.

"I'll tell you later... just... give me a sec...please..." He whispered embarassed and grabbed your hand placing it back on his cheek, lowering himself down on his shaky arms and laying over your legs exhausted. His voice sounded so tired and broken that despite yourself, you chose to just let him have a moment for now without making him talk.

You stroked the back of his hand absent mindedly careful not to touch the busted knuckles, watching his sleeping face as he lay in the hospital bed. He looked terrible. Pale skin, bags under his eyes. You could swear he had also lost some weight. How long has he been coughing for? How much blood?His face twisted in pain and you jumped as he stirred with a cough, opening his eyes and staring at you blankly.

His eyes moved over your features in silence with a soft expression on his own face, watching your glistening bright eyes, wide with concern. The way your hair framed your face, your eye lashes making your eyes look even more beautiful, your lips pursed with worry. Then moving as you talked...? He was so concentrated he barely heard your voice.

"...- yeah?"

"Yeah..." he replied softly.

"Yeah?!"

His mind started to clear up more as he raised an eyebrow uncertainly "uh... no?"

You laughed at his weird behaviour and he smiled. He had missed it. Missed seeing it. Hearing you laugh.

"You weren't listening to me, were you?"

He offered an apologetic look "yeah...sorry."

You shook your head softly "nah it's fine, wasn't important."

He suddenly looked very serious "No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said those things. I didn't mean any of them."

You stared at him blinking in confusion before realising what he meant. Bakugou was apologizing! You opened your mouth and closed it again, speechles. Clearing your throat you tried again.

"Yeah those really hurt..."

He could feel his heart drop as he looked at you wondering if it was actually over.

"I forgive you, stupid. Stop looking so pathetic." You rolled your eyes and grinned pinching his cheek.

"God I fucking love you so much... be mine again?"

You couldn't help blushing as you nod your head "you're such an asshole... but I can't help loving you either."

His eyes lit up, relief washing over him as he raised his hand cupping your cheek and bringing your head close, leaning in to kiss you.

"Wait! What was the deal with that flower-!"

"Shhh I'll tell you later...just..."

He looked down at your lips as he trailed off, licking his lips and pressing them against yours firmly.

And to this day, you still think he wanted to give you the flower and he chose the creepiest weirdest way to do it.

Nah just kidding.

He said he fell down and swallowed it by accident...

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #hanahaki #hanahaki bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #my hero academia #hanahaki disease #hanahaki Bakugou

271 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

Warm Up My Heart

(...So It Never Gets Cold Again)

Type: One-shot to a series (part 1 & part 2), Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2500

Summary: Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Boy wants to propose soon… boy slips. You know the drill. In which Tony builds a training super-bot, Steve gets a boo-boo and the rest is history.

Warnings: mild injury and violence, swearing, cheesy af fluff

A/N: There weren’t al that many of you reading this series, but since it’s a rewrite/editing stuff for me (something I have time for), I’m bringing it back! I’ve been neglecting it long enough...

Series masterlists (aka previous parts) linked above

────── ·❆· ──────

“Captain America’s been brought to his knees. They found his weak spot and he went down all too easily for the world’s first superhero; literally crumbled on the ground, unable to get back up-“

Steve groaned, miserable and extremely annoyed at the same time, and you chuckled, which earned you a wounded look from the supersoldier.

You retreated from his right foot to muffle the sound escaping your mouth with you palm. You couldn’t help it; as much as you felt sorry for Steve, troubled by the fact he was in pain, you knew it wasn’t serious and Tony’s dramatic commentary was just too hilarious.

“Tony, just leave him be. And stop making me laugh,” you pleaded, suddenly back to seriousness. This was no fun; you did need to concentrate. “I might as well freeze his foot off if you keep distracting me.”

It was the truth; you had spent the past minutes trying to cool down Steve’s ankle, which had been sprained. All three of you were now in one of the training rooms of the compound, you and Steve sitting on a bench, while Tony hovered above you. Steve’s leg was resting over your knees, so you could reduce the swelling before it could fully develop.

The injury was totally Tony’s fault.

Being the generous friend and maniac he was, he had invented a special kind of a training super-bot – which had earned him both sharp glares and amused looks. It wasn’t half bad; it actually was a fair competition for Steve, which was saying something. It probably had something to do with the fact Tony had seen Steve in action more than a few times, learning his fighting style; programming his knowledge into the software of the bot meant one less advantage for Steve. Plus, Tony had used some special enforced material-

-which was exactly the problem. It was enforced; too much. And not enough.

When Steve kicked with his full strength, his foot had just… pretty much stuck in the robot’s torso. He had been lucky it hadn’t torn his flesh off and he had ended up only like this – with sprained ankle and few deep scratches which had already stopped bleeding. Incredibly lucky even considering that his instinct had been to get his foot out immediately, so he could go on with the fight; he hadn’t been exactly gentle and patient with freeing himself. Honestly, you were surprised his limbs were still attached.

Now he couldn’t even put his full weight on his injured leg. At least the robot had helped him hobble to the bench, because between your built and Tony’s willingness to talk being way bigger than his willingness to help with Steve’s weight (muscles were heavy), Steve would be still on the ground. Well, limping uselessly on one foot anyway.

“And get me an elastic bandage. Hush! Go make yourself useful!” you ordered, directing Tony towards the door, motioning with your hand in an ‘off you go’ gesture.

“Cap, your girl is bossy and has no respect for elders,” the billionaire complained, but turned on his heels and headed to get a first aid kit. The bot stood by the end of the bench dutifully, not moving an inch.

“I beg to differ, she treats me just fine,” Steve called out after Tony, winking at you as you brought your hands back.

You focused on tuning your powers to the right temperature, hovering only few inches from his skin. You sighed when the door clicked behind Tony and went back to work.

“You okay?” you whispered, glancing up just for a moment before returning your full attention to his injury.

“I’ve had plenty of worse.”

“That’s neither an answer or comforting, you know.”

“I’m much better now,” he admitted softly and you could hear the tender smile in his voice.

It warmed your heart and filled your chest with pride. You knew he meant it as a compliment; and he was not complimenting your powers, not the tool you had been given, but he was praising you for being so skilful with it.

You managed a tiny smile. “I’m glad.”

Your mind raced as you thought of how you could make it even better. You were no doctor; you barely knew the RICE rule, of which you only had two things covered by now; Elevation and Ice. The third was on its way (hopefully, but one never knew with Tony) and the fourth was… probably out of question, because make Steve Rogers rest was way beyond anyone’s ability. You closed your eyes, focusing on the things you actually could control.

Steve apparently understood your need to concentrate, or had nothing to say, because he didn’t utter a word. But the silence was comfortable, kind even. You tried to convince yourself his eyes were roaming around the training room; in reality, you were ninety-nine percent sure he was watching you work and despite all the time spent together, all his efforts to chase your insecurities away and proving countless time that he trusted you… you felt a bit nervous.

Too small under his intense gaze, you could tell that hot blood rushed into your cheeks. It was ridiculous. And it probably made Steve’s lips curl up in a grin, because he had mentioned more than once that he found your embarrassment endearing and entirely adorable. He could always tell.

“Marry me,” he pleaded softly and the shock of those two words spoken threw you off so hard your concentration levelled to zero in an instant.

The temperature you had been treating his ankle with so carefully dropped low beyond the desired one as if you flipped a switch.

You felt the burst of energy from your hands more than you heard his pained hiss and you quickly snapped your eyes open, withdrawing your hands in one swift movement.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, staring at his foot with horror, masochistically examining the damage you had done – a frostbite no doubt, because of course you had done some serious damage-

-well… actually you hadn’t, because apparently your reflexes had improved greatly with time, but the skin had definitely less healthy colour than before and-

“Oh Steve, I am so, so sorry, I swear I didn’t meant to-“

“It’s… it’s okay,” he stuttered, sounding more embarrassed than hurting.

You were relieved; then again, when had Steve Rogers ever admitted he was in pain?

You couldn’t find yourself to look up to his face nevertheless, too horrified and scared. What have you done?

Also… what the hell had he just said? You had imagined it, right? He hadn’t… hadn’t…?

“It wasn’t your fault. That’s completely on me. You said Tony not to distract you and… I shouldn’t have— I shouldn’t have said that.“

You looked up at him, biting your lip, suddenly convinced that he actually had proposed. Just like that. You didn’t give yourself time to let it sink in or to… indulge the feeling. Because he just apologized for saying it. You would bet all your money that he did regret it now, for multiple reasons.

It kinda stung that he had confessed to it out loud, though.

Okay, fuck it, it hurt like hell, because even when you had never talked about it, it burned down your very soul that he… that he would ever regret asking.

He groaned, covering his red face with his palms.

“I---you’re… injured. Probably confused by the product of Tony’s brilliant ideas. It’s okay, let’s just… forget that, okay? We all say strange things when we’re in pain, things we regret-“

You hated that your voice trembled at the last word and Steve’s hands immediately went down, his blue eyes piercing right through yours. He seemed more horrified than you now.

“I’m sorry. That came out completely wrong. All of it. Oh god…. I do regret it, alright? I’m sorry, Snowflake. I really shouldn’t have said that. Not… not like this,” he added gently and your heart positively stopped as his gaze found you, a new twinkle in his irises.

No, there was nothing new in it. You had seen it before, occasionally. In moments that only belonged to you two, when you were alone or it felt like you were alone, the world around disappearing. When you would catch his gaze across the room while laughing with someone else. When you let your powers draw flowers on the windows of the compound, creating winter decorations that were not exactly allowed in the military space.

Admiration. Tenderness. Dedication. Love.

Your lips parted in surprise as he kept observing you, the emotions changing on your face, flashing with realization. Wait. That was… what? Your breath hitched.

Steve gave you a very nervous smile as he lifted his leg from your lap, setting it back on the ground.

“What are you-“ you snapped from your strange trance immediately, wanting to stop him from whatever he was about to do, because you weren’t finished and goddammit, he needed to keep his leg elevated-

-and not to lower himself from the bench on one knee.

Right in front of you.

As if he was proposing.

Like, really proposing.

You watched him with disbelief when he planted himself into the infamous position, injured ankle in an awkward position, and you would swear that he could hear your heartbeat echoing within the walls of the gym. You sure as hell did, your blood pounding in your ears and your head positively spinning.

You simply couldn’t believe your eyes. You were sure your pupils were wide enough to reduce your irises to nothing.

Steve swallowed loudly, looking up at your face from under his eyelashes, his eyes hopeful and wide as well. At this point, you couldn’t breathe, your ribcage way too small for your swelling heart.

This was happening.

Oh shit, this was happening. Steve was… Steve was-

“Snowflake,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotions and something that you would swear was a hint of fear, “you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Whenever I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and despite your powers, your presence-- you are warm like sunshine. I love you. I love you with my whole heart and… please, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

You stared at him, his eyes shining with hope, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you weren’t able to utter a single word and left him waiting for your answer.

You felt like an idiot for leaving him in anticipation and with doubts--- because you loved him. God, you loved this man so much and couldn’t even speak despite being sure with what you wanted to say more than anything.

So you blinked away the solitude tears that gathered in your eyes, because you were a regular sap, and nodded. His face lighted up like Christmas tree – no matter how cliché it sounded, it was the first analogy that came to your mind and it was very true.

Hesitant smile appeared on his lips as he stared at you with same disbelief that must have shown on you own face. “Yeah?”

You chuckled, covering your mouth with your palm before you could let out some very embarrassing sound. You nodded furiously, again and again.

“Yeah,” you breathed out finally and Steve shamelessly grabbed you and pulled you down at him. He fell on his ass, so you both basically crushed into the bench, but you couldn’t help but laugh like a madwoman as he was trying to balance the both of you, you being nestled in his lap all of sudden.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flush against his own body, immediately freeing your hair from the messy bun you wore – just so he could nuzzle his face in it. You could feel his smile against your cheek and then he placed a quick kiss there, then lower, then on your jaw, and then finally found your lips. He kissed you, letting you taste the delight on his tongue, his breath whispering of gratitude, pleading you to say it again.

“Yes,” you repeated simply and earned another kiss, this time longer, passionate and tender, breath-taking and making you feel like flying.

The butterflies in your stomach flipped their wings like crazy – kissing Steve was always an amazing feeling, but this time… you were kissing Steve, your fiancée. He just proposed, he wanted to marry you and you were about to marry him. Excitement tingled in your fingertips, restless and wonderful and your body melted into his, wishing to just merge into one.

You only realized his body was not exactly okay when he retreated an inch, allowing you both to catch your breath and your brain to reboot. Seeing his twinkling eyes, you swallowed the question about his well-being, simply not having the heart to ruin the unexpected, peculiar and pretty magical moment. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyelids falling shut.

“That... that is not how I was planning on doing this,” he whispered, sounding a bit embarrassed, and the corners of your lips twitched, rising even higher. You hadn’t realized you had automatically started smiling the moment your lips had been freed, but apparently you had.

“Are you saying there was a plan, oh my Star-Spangled Man?” you replied with voice as soft as his, teasing him lightly.

“Uhm… I mean… I was working on it, at least. It involved having the ring actually on me instead of having it lying in our room and all that.”

The ring. The ring that was in your room at the moment. He clearly wasn’t just throwing the words around. He… he actually had been planning a proposal. You heart fluttered at the confession.

“But then Steve Rogers’ impulsiveness got in a way and… here we are,” he revealed sheepishly and you didn’t think you could be more moved.

It wasn’t just him thinking about it – it was him losing it in a moment so ordinary like this as if he couldn’t wait anymore.

“Good. Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

His expression turned curious and a bit confused. “Good?”

“Yeah. It’s Steve Rogers I want to marry after all.”

The most gorgeous smile appeared on his lips and you couldn’t resist – you kissed him again. A silent promise of kissing him every day for the rest of your lives.

────── ·❆· ──────

Tony Stark was standing behind the transparent door to the gym, facing away from the two of you, but peeking over his shoulder; an equivalent of subtlety. A grin that was not even a little silly played on his lips and he was not tearing up at all.

Who was he kidding, he was really glad he had added the AV system to his super- bot. Because the record of what definitely looked like a bit strange proposal was something he would miss greatly.

He smirked at the kit in his hand, opened the door for a slit, quietly slipped his hand in – completely unnoticed by the oblivious lovebirds – and left the supplies there.

When he closed the door again soundlessly and made his way out of the area, he couldn’t but mutter under his breath.

“About damn time, Rogers. About damn time.”

────── ·❆· ──────

Next series (Five Times Steve Felt Betrayed and the One Time He Felt like He Was Betraying You)

S.R.masterlist

────── ·❆· ──────

So, I had my thoughts on some more storyline (sort of) and got to the point where I felt sorry for not coming up with a concrete plan of how a proposal implied in the next story went. I couldn’t resist and had to come up with some, because reasons.

Apparently, I’m a sucker for pain the concept of proposal going way differently than planned...

Thank you for reading... I hope your week started off well!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #avengers au #one shot #avenger reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #melting hearts #melting hearts series #warm up my heart #anika ann

75 notes · View notes

angelswithcigarettes · 4 years ago

Text

“Beach day“

Summary: Morgan gets tired about the teams reaction to Spencer having a bad day.

Prompt: "You are nothing but a burden"

Relevant Tags: Autistic Spencer Reid

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid

Word Count:1409

Morgan isn't sure what exactly is causing Spencer's behaviour when he is like this. One part could be nervousness or maybe that he under stimulated or maybe even just bored the hell out with that brain of his but sometimes he just can't hold onto one thought always moving and doing things with his hands, always talking.

He doesn't mind, he will just help him to focus, and try finding the problem. What he minds is the teams attitude about it.

"Spencer quiet." Hotch snaps.

"Spencer quiet. Spencer quiet." He repeats until the words find a meaning in his brain and he shuts up but not even half a minute later he is humming to himself and not long after that he picks the talking up again.

"Okay here are your things." JJ collects the files and then places them in Spencer's arm. "And over there is a free desk, have fun."

"Have fun?" Confused he looks at the files in his hands.

"That means you are working from now on over there."

"Alone?"

"Yes alone." She tells him but Morgan corrects her.

"I am coming with you."

"Sweet" Morgan sends them a warning look and then follows him over to the small table on the other side of the precincts bullpen. Letting him talk, he doesn't listen but he will just ignore it and sometimes tap on the file in front of Reid to remind him to keep working. "I am bored."

"You have a lot of work to do kid."

"But it's boring."

"You are the only person that would call this boring."

"I need something to do."

"You have something to do."

"No it's not enough." He starts hitting his head and Morgan evaluates his options while the team and a few officer eye them. "It's boring. It's boring." Morgan pulls out his phone, plugging in headphones and starts playing music for him and then points at the file again and for a bit it works until all of them are in the conference room again discussing the evidence they have and Reid is biting down on his finger making Morgan wince in sympathy and he can tell that Spencer is slowly getting frustrated.

"Reid please stop that." Hotch orders but he just shakes his hand so Hotch reaches up to pull the hand out of his mouth. "It's disgusting."

Hurt Spencer looks down now biting on his lip while Morgan bites back the urge to just take their stuff and leave.

"What did you find out?"

"The first victim was part of a dance group. We called and their said they are actually four groups. Turns out every victim was in one of this groups. The fifth in one at the same building."

"And Reid?" Hotch questions and he doesn't answer. "Reid what did you find out?"

"Reid what did you find out? The victim takes part in a dance group parted in four smaller groups. Each victim-"

"Morgan told us that already. What did you find out?"

"The victim takes part in a dance-"

"Reid. What did you find out while looking at the classes?" He repeats.

"The victim takes part in a dance class. Decided-" he speaks louder and Hotch interrupts him again.

"You two have been over there for nearly two hours. This can't be all."

"I can't concentrate." He complains.

"You are nothing but a burden right now. I gave you a simple past and you managed to not only not finish it you also slowed Morgan down with you."

"Hotch it's not his fault." Morgan steps in defending his boyfriend.

"He slows us down. He can go." Hotch turns back to Reid. "I don't want to see you here until this is better."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes"

"Then you are two agents down." Morgan throws the file in his hands onto the table.

"You leave now you are off the case."

"Alright." He keeps walking out of the room behind Spencer who is back to chewing on his finger, biting down on the bone wanting it to hurt but it doesn't hurt enough and he can't bite down hard enough. "Hey don't,it's okay,you are okay." Morgan stops him in front of the precinct, grabbing into his pocket and pulling a chewie out replacing it with his finger and he starts hitting his thigh with his free hand.

"I am not lazy"

"I know."

"I can't concentrate. And I have this weird nervous buzzling feeling in my arms and it won't go."

"I am sorry."

"Make it go."

"I don't know how." Apologetic he looks at Spencer and then pulls him in a hug, holding him as tight as he can. "This good?"

"Yes."

"So we are just gonna hug until it's gone?"

"Yes."

"Come on, we walk down to the beach, if we get kicked off the case might as well see something from the city they paid us to fly to."

"I don't think this is what Hotch intended."

"As much as I respect him - this decision was bullshit. It wasn't your fault and he didn't have any right calling you what he did." They walk for a not long until they can see the sea and walk down the steps into the send and Morgan sits down first,Spencer between his legs leaning against his chest and the older man wraps his arms around him while Spencer plays with the sand.

"We need to wash our hands after that. The bacteria on beaches us quite terrifying."

"We will do that." He hold him a little bit tighter, resting his head on his shoulder watching the sea and sometimes Spencer's hand letting the sand fall from one hand into the other. "You never were at the beach were you?"

"No"

"What do you think?"

"It's nice."

"Do you feel better?"

"Yes. Your hug helps." Hotch finds them there in the evening, Morgan laying on his back watching the sky while Spencer is eating fries from the snack hall on the street behind them. "Hey Hotch" Morgan looks aside not having seen his boss.

"I see you found yourself a nice place."

"I never have been to the beach. I like it here."

"I am glad you do." Sceptical Morgan sits up and Hotch can read the despite on his face. "I have to apologise. What I said earlier what out of the line and I know of course that it is not your fault and that if I send you home for something like this, you can't be alone and need Morgan. You two should not be punished for that."

"We weren't. We spend the day here. That was nice." Spencer tells his with a innocent smile eating another fries. "Besides I am pretty sure the dance thing was the reason why you catched the unsub."

"How do you know we catched him?"

"You wouldn't be at a beach otherwise."

"Well you are right with that. We will leave in two hours." When they walk onto the plane, sitting down next to each other, Spencer watching something on Morgan's phone with the headphones in, while eating candy that is hard to chew, Hotch realizes even more how much he fucked up and how much that was out of Spencer's control.

"What is he watching?" Dave asks gesturing to him.

"Doctor who. I don't know how often someone can watch the same show over and over again but we are currently in Season nine. Again."

"It seems to do real work."

"Oh it does if I meet that person that decided to do a new version. I can't guarantee that I won't marry them on the spot." Hotch chuckles ones. "Seriously sometimes it's out of his hands and my hand to know what is wrong and you can't expect him to handle things the same. He is not being lazy not being a distraction on purpose. If he could he would just do his work in quiet and deliver. And insulting him for it is even worse."

"I am sorry,it was a stressful day-"

"Image I would start insulting him everytime I have a stressful day and he is under or over stimulated and not doing things the same as every other person in the room. You would call me out on that and you would end it. He thinks highly of you and when you say stuff like that it matters just as much to him."

Ao3:

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #ao3 author #aaron hotchner #moreid #david rossi #jennifer jareau #criminal minds fanfiction #autistic spencer reid

49 notes · View notes

elisaphoenix13 · 4 years ago

Text

Delusional (Ch.1)

Okay, so this is something that won't be for everyone. It's a trope that me and my friends got into while RPing so this was born. I think this will be one of those fics that I'll only continue if there's enough interest. Let me know what you think!

Tony had been pissed when his parents told him that his mother was pregnant. He had no idea what possessed them to think having another kid was a good idea when they could barely pay attention to the one they already had, and he even said that. It ended up turning into an argument between him and Howard and Tony gave them both the cold shoulder for the entirety of Maria's pregnancy. Whether it was because of her age or possibly because of Tony's ongoing silent treatment stressing her out, his mother went into labor a month early. Tony couldn't even bring himself to visit his parents or the new baby at the hospital, but they eventually came home with his new baby brother that he almost considered ignoring completely.

But then he realized that would make him exactly like Howard.

So when his parents went gallivanting off to some party one day, leaving their preemie baby in the hands of the maid, Tony finally decided to properly meet his brother. A seventeen year age difference wasn't unheard of, but it still felt weird to walk into the nursery with the knowledge that the baby inside was a sibling. He decided he would make sure the baby was still alive and then go back to his bedroom to study for his physics final, but when he approached the crib the baby was sleeping in...he softened.

His baby brother slept peacefully on his back with his arms stretched out on both sides of his head and every so often snuffled in his sleep. He wasn't covered with a blanket and he vaguely recalled hearing that he shouldn't be at his age, but he was at least dressed warmly in tiny blue footie pajamas. He had wisps of dark hair that looked like they would be soft to the touch and Tony was tempted to reach out and see but he refrained. He didn't want to disturb the baby.

Tony had been so focused on ignoring Howard that he had to wrack his brain for his brother's name, which he knew his mother had told him. He was pretty sure he had been studying at the time and was only half listening, but it eventually came to him.

Scott.

Scott Harris Stark.

It was barely seconds later that the baby started to fuss and Tony looked around a little lost before finally giving in and leaning down to scoop him up. Tony was a goner after that. Scott's hair was just as soft as it looked and Tony was worried he could break his brother if he so much as sneezed. It didn't stop him from taking over most of the responsibilities of caring for Scott from that moment on though. Tony did his research, watched his mother, and even asked the maid for advice, but soon he was changing diapers. He fed Scott, stayed up for hours on end when he was colicky or sick, dressed him, played with him…

Tony was determined to make sure Scott had the love and attention he was deprived of. At least Maria tried with both of them.

But when Scott was just under a year old, tragedy struck. Both their parents died in a car accident on the way to a party, leaving Tony alone with his infant brother. Fortunately he was freshly eighteen so he could have legal guardianship over Scott and Tony had Rhodey and Obadiah for support and help with the company he now had control over. Scott always came first though. Tony made sure he had a decent childhood despite the fact that he easily got sick, and the adorable smiles he got in return were well worth it as Scott grew up.

So was the boy's first word. Dad. Tony never corrected him since he did raise Scott, and his brother never knew their parents. So as far as Scott knew, Tony was his father and Tony made sure to hide away the truth. As far as he was concerned, the lie wasn't hurting Scott and it was partly true in a sense.

He didn't expect it to be easy and it wasn't. Because Scott was born premature, he had special needs in the form of allergies (both food and environmental), asthma, and he even got sick constantly. Most days found Scott in Tony's room because the boy whined whenever Tony tried to put him in his own room, and he was terrified Scott would stop breathing in the middle of the night. Scott slept in Tony's bed until well into his grade school years when he finally started to grow out of his need to be near his father. Tony was still nervous and checked on Scott before he went to bed and at least once in the middle of the night when he woke up.

When Tony first found out Scott was allergic to peanuts, he was a wreck. He threatened the doctors to help his kid when he heard Scott wheezing for breath, and when the boy was finally recovering, he demanded they do whatever they had to do to check for any allergies he might have had. Tony didn't think he could handle seeing Scott as sick as he was again. The wheezing, the hives, the overall misery his little boy had been in…

It turned out Scott was severely allergic to all types of nuts. Peanuts, cashews, almonds, walnuts...if it was a nut, Scott couldn't have it. That was easy enough to plan meals around but then there was also shellfish, sesame, parsley, and pineapple. Whenever they went out to eat, Tony scrutinized every ingredient on the menu if it was available, and if it wasn't, he demanded to talk to the chefs. Fortunately once he learned what food Scott could have, it became second nature.

Tony always made sure to carry an inhaler and epipen with him, had extras held for Scott at school, and more in the boy's backpack. He taught Scott as early as possible what he couldn't eat because it would make him very sick and for the most part, things went well enough. There was only one incident at school when Scott unknowingly ate something he wasn't supposed to, but he was quickly treated with one of his pens and sent to the hospital. Scott was quick to bounce back from that since the school staff had been prepared, so the only constant issue was his asthma.

Scott never let it slow him down and Tony swore he was going to either go gray at 25 or suffer heart failure. The little boy was constantly climbing everything, and Tony once had to pull him off the bookcase that he managed to climb up to the fifth shelf. The fifth shelf. Rhodey had his fair share of retrieving Scott from high places whenever he visited too.

Before Tony knew it, Scott had grown into a young man with a talent for hacking and engineering and had a penchant for tacos, oranges, and lollipops. He helped Tony with a lot of his projects but absolutely refused to help with anything related to weapons. Scott never liked violence and always hated that Stark Industries was solely based on weapons making. Tony never faulted him for it.

"Scott, have you seen my--?" Tony stops mid sentence when he looks over at the young man and finds him at his computers with his feet kicked up on a small part of the desk, dozing with a lollipop in his mouth. "Oh, that's safe."

He walks over and takes the lollipop out of Scott's mouth and he jolts awake. "Hey! I was eating that!" Scott complains.

"Yeah, you were very proactive about it. I didn't raise you for 21 years so you could choke and die because you fell asleep with candy in your mouth." Tony rolls his eyes and sticks the candy back in Scott's mouth before he could protest. "Now have you seen that little screwdriver you like to steal?"

"You had it last, and I've been busy updating Jarvis's code." Scott answers.

"I saw that. I guess you're so good you can do it in your sleep."

"It was uploading!" Scott drops his feet to the ground with an annoyed huff. "And I told you I wouldn't help you with your stupid weapons. That includes finding misplaced tools."

"Fine, fine."

Tony tries fixing the cow lick in Scott's hair and rolls his eyes when it only floofs back into place. He learned very early on that his kid's hair was untameable but that didn't stop Tony from trying. Hair gel, pomade, hair spray...none of it could contain and style Scott's hair. The cow lick worked for him though so Tony wasn't too obsessed with trying to find something to keep it in place.

"Well while you wait for your new code to upload, why don't you make me a sandwich?" Tony says. "I gotta get the Jericho prototype finished tonight."

Scott frowns. "Why do they want you to fly all the way out to Afghanistan? What's wrong with how you usually sell this stuff?"

"It's just for a couple of days volpino. Now where's my tuna sandwich?" Tony asks.

"Probably in the fridge. It's deconstructed." Scott says as he leaves the lab.

"Oh, haha. Funny. I like mine constructed so get on it. Chop chop."

Tony smirks when he hears Scott mumble something under his breath along the lines "slave driver", but with no heat. Things had gotten easier as Scott got older but he never really grew out of his physical problems. He still had his food and environmental allergies, his asthma, and even his tendency to get sick, but that had mostly been remedied when Tony moved them to Malibu. The warm weather helped with that and Scott didn't get sick nearly as often as he did in New York, and that had been a huge relief for the both of them. Tony only wished he had thought of it sooner.

When Scott comes back with the sandwich and sets it nearby for Tony, the man looks up at him and rolls his eyes when he finds the younger man drinking out of a juice box. "You know you can have beer now right?"

"Juice is better." Scott says. "When are you leaving tomorrow?"

"You'll probably still be asleep. Even if I leave late." Tony grabs the sandwich and takes a bite. "So try not to blow up the lab while I'm gone." He adds around his mouthful.

"That's no fun." Scott says sarcastically. "Pepper called by the way. She said she has some paperwork for you to look at before you leave."

Tony groans. "Tell her I'm not home."

"It'll be true in a few hours anyway."

"Don't underestimate Pepper. She'll be waiting on the tarmac for me to look at those papers if she has to." Tony grumbles and then looks up at Scott with a suspicious smile that makes his son narrow his eyes at him. "You're 21. Maybe it's time to start giving you some responsibility with the company."

"I do. It's called making sure my dad doesn't blow himself up because he writes codes when he's half asleep. How are we still alive?"

"Rhodey and Happy." Tony replies dryly before whapping Scott upside the head. "Don't sass me."

Scott rubs the back of his head as he walks back over to his personal workstation to check on the progress of the code. When he had shown an interest in engineering and computers, Tony had immediately set up Scott's own work area with age appropriate equipment that he either replaced or updated as Scott got older. He was good at it too. Tony couldn't count the number of times he got calls from the FBI asking him to get Scott to stop leaving them viruses with laughing cat videos or something. They were always harmless and easily fixed, so Tony's response was to tell them to update their security so Scott couldn't get in.

Apparently they had yet to find a way to keep Scott out and Tony wasn't about to take away one of his son's very few joys in life. As long as it all stayed harmless, Tony would look the other way. He knew Scott was very capable of hacking into pretty much anything, and he was glad his kid was a pacifist. Because Scott was definitely very capable of getting his hands on nuke codes.

Tony actually wouldn't be surprised if Scott had already gone in and changed them.

Some whirring pulls Tony out of his thoughts and he looks over at the kitchenette to find DUM-E making smoothies again. A quick glance told him that there was at least peanut butter and almond milk in it so it wasn't safe for baby boy consumption.

"Hey! Are you trying to kill your little brother with that?" Tony asks and DUM-E beeps sadly when the blender goes off. "You know he can't have nuts!"

"There goes my social life." Scott says and Tony makes a face.

"I don't want to hear about that."

"Says the man whose one night stands I had to chase away."

Tony laughs. "To be fair, it was funny to see them get creeped out when you just stood in the kitchen and stared at them while drinking your juice box."

"...yeah. That was pretty fun." Scott admits.

"Sir, Miss Potts is on her way down." JARVIS says and Tony groans.

"Ugh the dreaded secretary with her paperwork."

There's a few beeps before the lab door hisses open and then the sound of heels clicking across the linoleum.

"Tony-"

"I know," he sighs. "Paperwork. Give it to Scott."

Pepper places the small stack next to his arm. "He's too busy making sure you don't blow yourself up."

"You know I had to teach him how to do that right?"

"And now he's better than you." Pepper says and Scott cackles.

"Ouch. My pride." Tony clutches at his chest in mock hurt.

"Please just look at this and sign. It won't even take you ten minutes." Pepper sighs.

"I trust you."

"Nice try."

#tony stark #scott lang #pepper potts

18 notes · View notes

lovelikedestiny · 4 years ago

Text

2. Nile: But I've lost your war

Two mirrors deep as sky and sea,

can see your bare soul, always testing.

Humming an indefinite melody, Nile pours the boiling water into the waiting cup and notes with subliminal amusement that Copley has a small sieve for loose tea in his household because his British-American heart would probably come to a standstill if he were to use bagged tea.

Exactly this sieve, together with the loose fruit tea that she found in a cupboard, is now in the cup that she intended for Nicky and she watches for a few seconds, lost in thought, how the water turns red. Involuntarily, the memory of Nicky's bloody hands and Joe's face contorted with panic rises in her and Nile blinks frantically, clears her throat and turns to the coffee pot.

The freshly brewed coffee gives off a strong, familiar smell as she pours it into the other cups and after she has placed all the filled cups on a tray, she carefully carries it into the living room. Just because she's suddenly immortal and injuries heal in seconds, doesn't mean Nile is particularly keen on scalding herself on spilling fluids.

When she enters, Copley looks up from his laptop, almost relieved, and Nile strongly suspects that this is not only because he is longingly waiting for the caffeine in the coffee, but also because he is still a long way from warming up with the other immortals . Nile doesn't have particularly friendly feelings towards him either, but at least she behaves normally in his presence and doesn't announce in every word that she will kill him should he make a serious mistake and betray their trust.

Quite different from Joe, who is as open with his feelings as always and rubs his skepticism and distrust at every opportunity in Copley's face. And to be honest, Nile can't blame him in the slightest. After all, it was partly Copley's fault that he and Nicky were tortured in the lab. What brings her to the problem child in their group.

Nicky.

A protector, Joe called him affectionately when he went shopping with Nile and Nicky and Nicky seemed content to stroll after them, eyes on their surroundings. The soul, Andy said with the rare look of tenderness on her face as Nicky kept an eye on the pan in the kitchen, singing softly. And even Booker said to Nile in the cave when he told her a little about Joe and Nicky: Joe wears his heart on his sleeve and manages to cast a spell over everyone with his charm and his radiant smile, his passion. And Nicky...Nicky is the guardian.

At the time, Nile didn't know what he meant by that. Now the meaning becomes more and more clear to her. And she just doesn't think it's fair. Doesn't think it's fair that Nicky is sitting next to Joe on the sofa with pale cheeks and a thick blanket around his shoulders, and that not only Joe is deeply worried by his deteriorating condition, but also Andy.

And for some reason, Nile didn't expect this situation to throw Andy, the ever steadfast, ancient warrior who stoically accepted her sudden mortality, off too. It reminds her how long Andy, Nicky and Joe have known each other and how deep their family bond goes and although Nile has only been part of this team for a few weeks, she doesn't feel excluded but strangely welcome in any way.

The cups clink softly as she sets the tray down on the living room table and she places the teacup with a small saucer for the tee strainer in front of Nicky. “Here Nicky, I made you tea. Really classy with Copley's little tea strainer.” It still hurts her heart to speak about her family, but she does it anyway. "My mom always said that tea makes everything better."

"Your mother passed her wisdom on to her daughter," Nicky says with a smile and pulls the cup closer to him to put his hands around the warm vessel with a barely audible sigh. "Thank you, Nile."

“Thank you, Nile. Coffee is exactly what I need now.” Joe leans forward with a dramatic groan and skillfully fishes for one of the other cups. He inhales the scent deeply, but immediately leans back into his previous position, balancing the mug on one knee and casually wrapping his arm around Nicky.

"No problem, I like to shine with my ability to operate the kettle,” Nile replies with a grin and threatens to raise a finger in front of Nicky. "And don't you dare to not finish the tea. Then I'll force you to do it with my puppy eyes and it won't be pleasant.”

"Oh, habibi, I would listen to her." Joe chuckles gently into his cup. "We don't want you to be the focus of their puppy eyes."

Nicky's mouth twists into the barely noticeable smile, which Nile has come to appreciate very much. “Very well, Nile. I will follow your instructions nicely.”

She winks at the couple and then continues her round, pushes a cup into Andy 's hand, who is standing by the window and stares out, and then she hands one to Copley before she takes the last one. After blowing softly, she takes a sip of the bitter brew.

Nobody complains that it's just plain coffee, which is partly due to the fact that Nile still doesn't know exactly how her team members prefer coffee and partly because she didn't feel like turning Copley's kitchen upside down. He offered to help her make the coffee, but Nile politely declined - the more he sits at his laptop, the sooner he will hopefully find an answer to Nicky's inexplicable condition.

Copley didn't seem offended by her refusal and thanks her for the coffee with a small smile and a nod, doesn't make a face as he takes a sip and looks at his screen again.

The only approach they have right now is the laboratory, because everything that has happened in that context was their last mission. And while they'd been under the radar to get used to the new situation, nothing suspicious had happened. They'd always been together, so it's impossible that just Nicky caught anything, especially since their immortality should have cured that certain something long ago.

“In all of the material I've found on Merrick's servers and in his building, I couldn't find anything that would explain why Nicky is in his current state,” Copley informs them, without taking his attention off his laptop. “I deleted everything to erase your traces and destroyed any samples from the lab. There is no evidence of your existence or any connection to what happened at Merrick's."

"And the bitch of a doctor?" Andy still has his back to them, but it's more than obvious that she asked Copley.

Continue reading on AO3 ;)

#the old guard #fanfiction #tears on marble face #chapter two #Nile #Andy #Joe #Nicky #Copley

11 notes · View notes

managedmischiefs · 5 years ago

Text

north//chapter ten

genre: angst

pairing: season ten spencer reid x female oc

warnings: panic attack, talk of maeve and that whole situation, death, mention of drugs and relapse

word count: 9.8k

summary: spencer gets to see another part of amelia’s ugly side and amelia gets more than she bargained for when she steps onto her balcony

also i just wanted to say that the panic attack described in this chapter is based off of my experience with panic attacks. nobody has the same experience, but this is based off mine. also part two, i don’t know how medication for panic attacks really work, what i wrote is literally based off my experience with migraine medication. so if it’s not accurate, then i apologize. i also apologize for taking so long to write this. school was a lot and my mental health sucks. but it’s here now!! enjoy

AMELIA

"Yaz, if you don't stop moving, I'm going to purposely poke your fucking eye out!"

"It's not my fault! Quinn keeps nudging me!"

"No, I'm not!"

I roll my eyes at the two girls in front of me, flicking my wrist to put the final touches on Yaz’s makeup. "You two need to shut up." I then grab Quinn’s shoulders and force her to move against the wall, right next to Yaz. They continue to quietly bicker with each other.

"So," Frankie speaks up from across my studio, lounged back in a bean bag chair, fiddling away with a camera of his own, "Lia, you're coming up on one year with your genius doctor FBI boyfriend, right?"

"Mhm," I hum, too focused on painting my friends' bodies to give a full and coherent answer.

"Do you guys have plans yet? Dinner? Movie? I don't even know what you guys do as dates. In fact, I don't really know much about this guy at all. Are we even sure he exists?" Michael teases, waving around his bottle of beer. Quinn squirms away from my grasp to take a sip of his beer and only comes back when I tug on her hand.

"No plans yet," I mumble, biting my tongue for a moment as I focus on getting the swirls of blue and yellow just right. If the painting isn’t absolutely perfect then I’ll never be happy with the way the pictures come out. And if I’m not happy with the pictures that come from today then that just means I wasted my time today. "We don't make plans in advance, really. His job doesn't allow for that."

"His job doesn't allow for that?" Dani scoffs. "Stupid excuse. Horrible excuse. Men are trash. How can you be sure that all the time he’s spending ‘at work’ and not with another girl? Or maybe another guy? I don’t know, I don’t judge. Maybe he’s-"

"Dani," I hiss, twisting my head to send her a pointed look, "he's an FBI agent. He hunts down serial killers for a living. He travels for work on a whim and it’s not a big deal. He’s not gay and it’s rude to speculate about someone’s sexuality, especially if you’ve never met them."

"But don't you want him around him more?" Frankie jumps up from his seat and throws his arm around my shoulder, effectively pulling away from my work. He thinks that grabbing me will diffuse the situation, bring some humor, keep me from getting too upset. But it actually does all the opposite and I can feel a ball of heat growing and swelling in my stomach.

I’ve been friends with this bunch since college. We all went to Carnegie Mellon together and even lived in a house together in junior and senior year, but they aren’t always the best of friends. Clearly. They can be quite judgemental and exclusive when it comes to people outside of our friend group. Jenna and I commonly find ourselves sharing looks across rooms when one of our friends says something rude or stupid. They’re not the best, but we’ve been through so much together and they are all I have.

I push Frankie away from me as best as I can. "Do you guys just not like him because he's a federal agent?" The room goes silent and that's enough of an answer for me. I scoff, moving across the room to grab some more paint and squirt it into my palette. I wind up putting too much on my palette and groan, screwing off the top of the paint tube and trying to scoop the extra paint back in. The longer I try, the less gets back inside the tube and the more my frustration starts to grow, the more tears well up in my eyes. "You're complaining about my boyfriend who you've never met just because he works for the FBI. Ridiculous. Unfair."

"We get arrested all the time and all we do is spray paint empty brick walls," Dani protests, and, again, judging by the silence of the others in the room, I know that they have no problems with what Dani is saying. "It's bullshit! We should be able to express ourselves creatively without having to do art in the middle of the night and worry about being thrown in a holding cell."

"First of all; express yourself creatively on a canvas, not on someone’s property. Second; I can promise that you’re not getting arrested by federal agents. You’re getting arrested by cops and my boyfriend is not a cop," I growl at my supposed friends. I don't get angry easily. In fact, I'm a very patient person and I've been told that by many people on many occasions. My first instinct is to never get mad. Anger doesn’t get anyone anywhere. I prefer to have conversations instead of screaming matches and to hear out the other side's argument. But this is different. This is Spencer we’re talking about. I love Spencer more than anything and since meeting him, I know I'd do anything to protect him, even if that means arguing with my friends on his behalf. It’s not fair for them to be making these judgments about him. "You get arrested by Virginia Police so if you wanna hate anyone then hate them. Don't you dare all go hating my boyfriend for no reason. Don't hate him when you've never met him."

I throw my palette onto a table, not caring about paint splatter, and grab my phone, leaving my studio and heading into the fresh air. My heart is pounding against my tightening chest as I lean against the brick wall and slide down to an incredibly uncomfortable crouching position, tucking my head between my knees. The stance almost instantly makes my back ache and my neck sting but I ignore it. Maybe I deserve the pain. My breathing quickly gets more and more shallow and my head goes light. I try to lift my head to bring sunlight into my eyes, but my head seems far too heavy to move. I reach for my phone and it slips right out of my fingers when they tremble too much for me to get a grip on the thin metal. This feeling is helpless, painful, too familiar. I can’t seem to get a grasp on myself and I’m spiraling out of control more and more by the second. Every gasp for breath turns into a sob and every attempt to move my head turns into overwhelming shame when I notice people passing by are staring at me and whispering.

It's almost perfect that my phone starts to buzz on the ground and I manage to open my eyes enough to see that Spencer is calling me. I attempt another deep breath to calm myself down but it doesn't work and it only makes my grip on reality dwindle. It's getting harder to breathe and my eyes are stinging with tears. With every pounding beat of my heart, my chest gets tighter and tighter and tighter until it feels like someone has successfully squeezed my lungs flat.

The buzzing of my phone should bring me back to reality but it just makes it worse. It’s an annoying, persistent sound that just won’t stop. It won’t stop. It just won’t stop. I want to answer, I need to answer, but I just wish the sound would stop. The way to get it to stop is to answer. Just answer. It’ll stop if you answer. You’ll feel better if you answer. I slam my hand down on the ground and grope the floor until I manage to grab my phone and bring it up to my ear.

"Hi, love," Spencer's chipper voice comes through the receiver, none the wiser to my current situation. He's been away on a case since early yesterday morning, having woken me up while getting dressed, kissing me goodbye, and leaving my apartment to get to the BAU. I would kill to have him here right now. Maybe he could talk me down and reteach me how to breathe. Maybe he could reinflate my lungs and kiss my hands until they stop trembling.

I try to answer, but nothing coherent comes out. I let out a strangled sob, my fingernails digging into my knee so hard that I worry I might draw blood. My inability to communicate is frustrating and that ball of heat in my stomach rises up to my chest. The trembling overpowers me and I almost drop my phone again.

"Amelia? What's wrong? Are you okay? Talk to me," Spencer says quickly, and it's only followed by more choked wheezes from me. "You've gotta breathe, okay? Take really deep breaths for me. In through your nose and out from your mouth.”

His instructions seem simple enough to do. Just breathe. That’s all I have to do. It’s simple. Just breathe. I open my mouth to try to speak to him, to tell him what’s happening, even though I’m pretty sure he can tell, but all that comes out is fragments of words and whimpers.

"It’s okay, you’re okay. You don’t need to speak. In through your nose, out from your mouth, remember? Can you try that for me?" I’m not sure how long I’m sitting there for, on the phone, trying to focus on my boyfriends’ voice as he tries to calm me down. It feels like I’m sitting for a few hours, but my tiny grasp on reality lets me know that it’s been ten minutes at the most. I just do what I can to focus on Spencer and what he is telling me to do and how I can calm down. I clench my fists and finally succeed in doing what he tells me to after a while, breathing heavily in through my nose, my chest burning as the heaving comes to a gradual stop. I breathe out and then repeat the process a few times. “There you go. You’re doing so well. I’m right here for you, okay? Take all the time you need.”

He continues to tell me sweet nothings and encourages me to breathe until my breathing has regulated and my head lays slack against my knees. Spencer lets just a few moments of silence go by to let me collect myself before he speaks again. “Are you feeling a little better now?” I gather enough energy, the last of it, to hum a confirmation. "Where are you right now?" Spencer asks next. Even just his voice calms me down. Maybe it's his experience with his job but he sounds so calm right now. Nobody in my life has ever been able to remain so calm during one of my panic attacks, leaving me to cry and heave and occasionally faint in private. But Spencer's voice sounds so soothing and calm and low that just him speaking helps me more than anything. More than any useless, overwhelming, smothering hug ever has.

"Studio.”

"Okay. You should get home and get some rest. "

"Mhm.”

"You shouldn't drive. I don't know if you did, but either way, please don't drive. Take the train or call someone to drive you home," Spencer pleads. "I was calling to tell you that we're on our way home. We closed the case and we're leaving in a few minutes for the airport, but don't wait for me. You need to go home and get rest. Panic attacks are really taxing and you need to re-energize. I'll come over when I get back but you need to get home."

"Amelia?" I hear Jenna's voice approaching me but I don't even bother to look up. "Are you okay?"

I've exhausted my energy on speaking just those few words to Spencer so when Jenna gets close enough to me, I just lift the phone up for her. She crouches down beside me and grabs my phone, wedging it between her shoulder and her ear as she pushes my hair out of my face. I try to lean away from her touch but I can’t get very far. "Who is this? Oh, hi, Spencer. This is Jenna. She's right next to me. I can definitely bring her home. Don't worry, I'll get her home and I'll stay with her until you come around, it's no problem. I'll take her phone and let you know when I get her home. Okay, bye."

I finally lift my head and look at Jenna, watching her tuck my phone into her pocket, giving me this stupid, pitiful smile that I’ve seen far too many times in my life. A half smile that says, it sucks that you’re going through something but I only kind of care. "Mr. Genius says I gotta bring you home and keep you safe until he comes over and I don't feel like ending up in prison, so let's go, babe." I don’t have it in me to correct her to day Doctor Genius instead of Mister Genius. Jenna holds her hands out to help me up.

I bring my shaking hands up to hers and let her pull me to my feet and lead me over to her car, feeling weak and useless as she pulls the seatbelt over my chest. I pout as she dotes over me, humming casually to herself just so she can make this situation not so tense, but it just makes it seem like she doesn’t care. "Okay," Jenna says, hand poised on the passenger side door, "I'm gonna go kick everyone out of your studio and then we'll get going. Sit tight."

///

"Hi, Spencer, I'm Jenna,"

"Hi, Jenna. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping on the couch. She didn't even wanna go upstairs to bed so she asked me to put on a record and she just passed out on the couch."

Everything sounds foggy as I wake up what I assume is hours later in an uncomfortable position, curled up on my couch. My head is pounding and my eyes feel puffy and I'm now regretting not forcing myself to get into bed. I would have much rathered waking up with my duvet wrapped around me and my head on Spencer’s pillow. Waking up on this stiff couch with my toes virtually frozen and my head twisted uncomfortably on the armrest isn’t how I wanted to wake up post-panic attack.

I open my eyes just in time to see Spencer setting his go-bag down beside the coffee table, sending me that same stupid, pitiful smile. "Hi," he whispers, coming to sit on the floor in front of me. He raises his hand to drag his fingertips along my cheekbone and the soft touch makes my eyes flutter closed. I’ve gotten used to being without him when he’s away on cases, and having Spencer with me makes all the separated days easier. I know that the moments like this make up for the times I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, because I can’t sleep if his arms around me and if I can’t hear his heartbeat. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Mm," I hum, but it's not much of an answer, not a satisfying one, at the least.

"It's good that you got some sleep but you gotta have something to eat too. Do you want me to order something?" I nod slowly at his suggestion that I couldn’t care less about. I just want his hands on me. "Okay, I will. Sit tight, I'll be right back."

A whine falls from my lips as I reach my hand out for his, hoping to keep him from leaving. I just need his touch and his love and his affection to feel better. I don’t need sleep or food or anything he could possibly suggest that helps a person relax after a panic attack, based on this study I read. I love his facts but I just want him to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it will. The boiling hot baths I usually take after a panic attack never do the trick. Nothing does the trick like physical affection does.

"Don't go," the words could barely be considered words, especially not after I mumble them through almost closed lips.

"I’m not leaving," Spencer crouches down again and presses a kiss to my forehead, and I’m sure he realizes that a kiss was the wrong move because I just keep trying to pull him closer. “I just wanna order you something to eat, okay? Let me bring you upstairs and get you in bed and then I’ll call for something. Is that okay?”

Spencer is sitting up on his knees before I even try to answer because even though he's posed a question, he doesn't need an answer. He knows how to help me from the studies he reads and he knows what needs to be done and he's relatively stubborn. So despite how my body feels heavy and how I wish I could just melt into the couch cushions with my arms wrapped around my boyfriend, I force myself to sit up. Spencer scoops me up and carries me up the stairs, setting me down in bed and tugging the duvet all the way up to my chin.

Spencer goes a bit overboard with tucking me in, but I don’t mind, as long as his hands are on me. And he is happy with his work, he finally takes off his peacoat and sets it on the edge of the bed. "I'm just gonna go run downstairs and order something and make some tea, okay? Did you take your medication?" He turns away from me and goes towards the stairs, digging his phone out of his pocket.

"Huh?"

Spencer halts himself from walking down the stairs, turning his chin over his shoulder. "Your medication," he turns his body towards me. "You know, for your panic attack?"

I shake my head, eyebrows furrowed so much that it makes my headache worse. "No, no, I don't have any."

My fuzzy brain can't exactly decipher the look on Spencer's face, but he turns his back to me yet again and rushes down the stairs. I let out a hum at his confusing reaction, but it turns into a disappointed whine as he gets further and further away from me. So, still in my post-panic attack state, I reach for Spencer's coat for some sort of comfort.

As I tug on it, something falls out of the pocket. I blindly reach for it and have every intention of tucking it back into the pocket it came from, but the cool metal of the object heightens my senses, as if the object brings me back down to earth. I hold Spencer's jacket to my chest as I lay back down against my pillows, looking down at the metal circle in my hand. There's a triangle on the front- or maybe the back?- with a Roman numeral one on it, with the words unity, service, and recovery around the three sides. I turn it over in my hand and find a compass rose with only north labeled.

"Amelia?" My head pops up when I tune into Spencer's footsteps on the last stair, his phone in his hand and his untied converse in the other. He drops his shoes on the floor and then leans against the wall, his eyes traveling down to the floor instead of on me. I can feel his shame from all the way across the room and how his embarrassment starts to consume him. He instantly shuts himself off from me and it’s so disheartening to see how easy it is for him to do so.

"It fell out," I hold it out to him, despite our distance. "What did you order?"

Spencer doesn't move as I hold the medallion out to him, but all he does is tuck his hands in his pocket and study the patterns on his socks. "You don't wanna know what it is?"

I drop my hand against the bed and sigh, having used too much energy to keep my arm up for longer than two seconds, nuzzling my cheek against Spencer's jacket and trying to get a whiff of his cologne. If he won’t come to me then I’ll have to get a piece of him in my bed, even if it’s just the scent on his jacket. I need his comfort. "I know what it is, dove."

He takes a long breath and then walks over, taking the medallion out of my hand and shoving it in his pocket. "Pizza. I'm gonna go change and I'll be right back."

I hadn't even realized he had brought his go-bag upstairs at some point, but I only see it when he carries it into the bathroom. He doesn't shut the door all the way and I find myself wondering why. Maybe he doesn't want to completely shut himself away from me because he can tell I need him close. Or maybe because he didn’t want to rebuild his emotional walls around me, and closing the bathroom door would separate us. But I don’t have the time to come to a clear and coherent hypothesis before he has returned.

He's in a tee shirt and plaid pajama pants when he returns, dropping his bag onto the floor and letting out a heavy sigh. I watch him as he walks around the bed to grab his shoes and begins the process of shoving them into his bag, even though he doesn't need to. He knows he doesn’t need to clean his stuff up immediately. But I notice his medallion in his hand, squeezed between his pointer and middle fingers, and it makes me call out to him. His head whips over to me and I realize I have nothing to say. I need him beside me but he clearly has so much going on in his head and in all the time we've been together, I've never seen his medallion. That makes me nervous. Is this why he's acting like this? Is he thinking about getting his hands on a drug that will ruin his life?

I have nothing to say. But Spencer is staring at me, waiting for me to ask whatever question he thinks I’m needing to ask, as I clutch his jacket like my life depends on it, eyes half-closed as I start to struggle to breathe again. I open my mouth but nothing comes out and a tear drips down my cheek.

Spencer moves to kneel on the bed, pulling his jacket out of my hands and replacing the fabric with his body. "Hey, I'm right here, Lia, just breathe. Sit up for me, sweetheart," He places his hands on my waist and helps me sit up, coaxing my head between my knees. He somehow knows exactly what to do, despite not being able to see me during my previous attack. He knows just how softly I need to be touched and what volume to speak at without overwhelming me. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm right here, don't worry. I don’t want you to get worked up again." I manage to nod, and he kisses my forehead as a reward. Spencer just keeps holding me and whispering praises, tucking my head under his chin and rubbing my back with a feather light touch. “There you go. There’s my girl.”

“I’m okay,” I whisper, but it’s more for myself than for him.

“Yeah, you are,” he affirms. "Will you talk to me about these attacks and how I can help you?" His sweet voice is so buttery and smooth that I get lost in it, eyes fluttering and almost completely missing his question. I just want him to keep talking, to read me poetry or tell me random facts that I’ll probably never need to know. I just want him to talk, and talk, and talk, and break me away from the prison in my mind. I just want him to distract me.

“Um,” I lean into his touch when he brings his hand into my hair, scratching me behind my ears like a cat. But when I manage to open my eyes and look at him, he’s giving me such a serious look, one that says he means business, and I know that there’s no room for jokes or wit. “I don’t know. I’ve mostly dealt with panic attacks alone. I just let them happen and wait for them to be done.”

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise but he quickly tries to hide his reaction, clearing his throat as a distraction, but it’s nowhere close to this distraction I had hoped for. “So you don’t know any coping mechanisms or take any medication for panic attacks?” I shake my head no. “Have you ever gone to a doctor or a therapist about this?”

Definitely not the distraction I was hoping for. I reach for the duvet and pull it over my head, deciding to ignore him. I manage to crawl out of Spencer’s lap and curl up on my pillow with my back to him, earning a defeated sigh from my boyfriend beside me. He takes a breath to speak but then the doorbell rings and I can only assume that means that dinner is here. Without a word spoken, Spencer climbs off the bed and goes to answer the door. I hear his chatting quietly with the delivery person before his sock-covered footsteps echo back up the stairs, and he returns with a pizza box.

Spencer just casually suggesting I go to a doctor or a therapist is so obnoxious and annoying and I truly can’t remember a time in our relationship when I was this mad at him. He talks as though a doctor's visit will solve all my problems and if taking a pill will turn me into the healthy, stress-free, mental illness-free girl that I want to be, but never have been, and never will be. I spent my childhood taking care of myself and my brother and I can keep doing that as an adult. I’ve gotten this far in my life, farther than I thought I would, so I’m not going to fix something that isn’t broken.

Spencer sits at the foot of the bed and sets the pizza box in the middle of the bed, not saying a word as he opens it up and separates the slices. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes as I tuck my legs underneath me. I reach for a piece of pizza and lean over the cardboard so I don't get the bed messy. If the bed gets messy and crumby then Spencer won’t be able to sleep tonight, knowing that there’s particles of food all over the duvet. He seems to be on the same train of thought because he refuses to move the piece of pizza in his hand away from the box. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d be telling him how cute he is and finding his cleanliness endearing and suggesting that we eat at the table downstairs instead of my bed. But the tension is so thick that I could cut it with a knife, and I don’t have the energy to ease it. But apparently, Spencer does.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer asks casually, keeping his eyes down as he takes another bite of his pizza. "The way you talk,” he pauses and considers his words very carefully, “you've clearly had panic attacks before."

"It's not a big deal."

"Amelia," the stony, serious tone of his voice makes my head pop up. He looks annoyed, as if he doesn't believe what I'm saying. I haven’t yet learned that lying to a profiler is useless. "You had a panic attack on a public sidewalk and it was so bad that you went nonverbal. Panic attacks happen to a lot of people but they're serious and debilitating and you should get treatment for them."

"Don’t tell me what I should do. I don't need treatment," I answer far too quickly. "I know you have your degree in psychology or whatever but I don’t need to hear it. I’ve taken care of myself for this long and I actually happen to think I’ve done a pretty good job at it, so I don’t need medication or therapy to interfere.”

Realization flashes on Spencer's face and he puts his piece of pizza down, leaning his elbows against his knees. "Seeking out help doesn’t make you weak."

I scoff and roll my eyes into the back of my head, but maybe that's just to avoid eye contact or to repress the tears that burn at my ducts. "That's not what this is about."

"I didn’t mention anything about my degree, Amelia,” Spencer snaps. “And all I’m trying to do is help you. You can go to a therapist and discuss coping mechanisms and figure out why you even have them or go to a doctor and get medication that will regulate attacks and maybe you'll get something to take after you get attacks, it'll be so much-"

"No!" I shout, cutting him off, my hands balled into fists as I struggle to rein in all the nasty things I want so badly to say, but that I know he doesn’t deserve. "I won't! I'm not! I'm fine without it! I've gone my whole fucking life like this and I don't need to be fixed!"

I decide it's the appropriate time to throw a temper tantrum and scramble off the bed, not even bothering to grab a jacket or a blanket or shoes or anything as I stomp down the stairs and throw open the door to the balcony. It's colder than I remember it being and the air instantly seizes up my bones, but I ignore the feeling as I close the door behind me. I lean against the railing and let a few tears silently slip down my cheeks, not bothering to wipe them and instead letting them trail down my neck and dampen the neckline of my crewneck. Fresh air used to always calm me down, but now, being alone on a balcony after fighting with Spencer, the air only feels suffocating.

A few minutes pass before I head the door slide open and Spencer steps out. I expect him to speak right away, to use his profiling skills to defuse the situation, but he doesn't. He drapes a blanket over my shoulders and as frustrated as I am at him and at the world and at myself, the tiny gesture makes me feel better. I'm craving his touch yet again and I wish he would just wrap his arms around me, but yet again, he doesn't. I tug the blanket as tight as I can around my shoulders and imagine it's his arms. His arms that are so close to me but feel like they are miles away.

"I've been a hypocrite." Spencer's voice is quiet, but not in the same way as it was during my attacks. No, before he was quiet for my sake. But now he seems quiet because he can't bear to speak any louder. Like if he hears his own words, he will combust and break down. "I kept something from you too."

I turn around and find that he's sitting down in one of the armchairs, another blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I, yet again, notice that his medallion is in his hand. But he's not trying to hide it, he's staring right down at it.

"Does it have anything to do with your medallion and why it was in your pocket?"

"Partly," he answers, and then looks up at me, pretty brown eyes already glistening with tears. If I wasn’t so upset, if Spencer wasn’t so upset, if the tension hadn’t carried outside, I would have poked his perfect nose and told him how cute he is when the tip of his nose gets red from the cold. My eyes are just focused on the medallion though, being passed between his fingers with expertise and never slipping out. "I'm clean, I promise. I wouldn't risk breaking my sobriety. I have too much to lose now. I've got you, and my job, and my team- my friends, Henry. But, um, yeah, there's something that I didn't tell you and I know that I should."

Partially born from my own selfish need for affection, coupled with Spencer's broken down state, I go and sit on his lap. He happily lets me do so, draping one hand over my thigh, holding the medallion there. I rest my head on his chest and wait for him to feel comfortable enough to start his story. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest and I stare down his hand, tap-tap-tapping on the arm of the chair. His nervousness is just as palpable as the tension.

"So, um, do you remember when we first met? You always like to point out how you're not the profiler here but did you happen to notice how nervous I was?"

"Mm," I hum, racking my brain for the memories of our first few coffee dates. I remember his strained smiles and his stuttered out words. I think back to us spending Christmas together and how, later on, he just blurted out an invitation to be his girlfriend that lacked finesse and confidence. He has always been nervous around me, but I always just thought that he was nervous with new relationships. It never crossed my mind that there was a reason other than anxiety. "Of course. The first day we met, I don't even think you took your bag off, right? I just thought dates made you nervous."

"Well, yeah, that's kinda true," Spencer sighs and when he tilts his head down, his lips brush against my temple. His warm lips bring a shiver down my spine and he holds me tighter against his cold body. "The truth is, about two years before I met you, I had a girlfriend, her name was Maeve. Our relationship wasn't really conventional. We, um,” he pauses and shifts his weight, “she was a geneticist and I saw her when I was having migraines, but then we started dating. We never met each other though."

His constant past tense is alarming. Was.

"We talked on the phone. She had a stalker from before I met her and she wanted to make sure that I didn’t get wrapped up in it. And we had to be safe so we only talked on pay phones. Only on Sunday's and never from the same phone twice. I thought I, um, I thought I loved her and then-" Spencer lets out a breath that sounds defeated, tired, helpless. He drops the medallion into my lap and his hands fly up to cover his face, another shaky breath falling from his lips. “I shouldn’t be telling you this when you're in such a fragile mental state. This is a lot of information and-”

"If you want to tell me then you can. I’m not a fragile little girl, I can take it. But if you don’t think you can then that’s okay too. I don’t need you to show me all the skeletons in your closet because you think you’ve been hypocritical.”

Spencer drops his hands, revealing his quivering lips and wet waterline. I return the medallion to the palm of his hand and close his fingers around it. "I mean,” he lets out the tiniest, saddest chuckle, “I was being hypocritical, being mad at you for keeping information a secret when I was doing the same.”

“Okay, maybe a little,” my slight teasing gets a more genuine laugh out of him, and he drops his forehead to my shoulder to hide it. “But it’s okay. I understand that there’s some things you don’t wanna share immediately.”

Spencer keeps his head down, his hand in a tight fist around his medallion and the other on my waist, keeping me close. I can practically feel his fear and anxiety and his overwhelming pain through the tips of his fingers digging into my skin, and I want so badly to take it from him. I would gladly shoulder his pain so he doesn’t have to drag it around behind him like a suitcase with a broken wheel. But as badly as I want to, I can’t help him the way I want to and so I just need to comfort him to the best of my ability.

"She got kidnapped and shot in front of me," he blurts out quickly, the memory obviously too painful to say gracefully. "I realized she was gone so the team investigated and we found Maeve and the unsub brought me inside where she was being held and had me see her for the first time ever and then killed herself and Maeve right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it."

Sometimes I don't know what to say to Spencer. He sees the worst that society has to offer, and the worst took away the first woman that he loved. I don't always know how to comfort him. Sometimes he just wants to be held and would rather not verbalize his feelings. And although I don’t love it when he decides to not talk things out, cuddling and giving out kisses is easier than arguing with him and trying to get him to talk about things he doesn’t want to. So physical affection is easier. But right now he doesn't seem to want to be held and I don't know how to help him. He didn't want to tell me this but clearly, today hasn't gone how either of us has wanted it to go. I've been spontaneously panicking and he's now confessing that his girlfriend was killed. None of this is right.

It takes him a few minutes to start speaking again, but when he does, his voice is quiet. "I almost relapsed after that," his head finds home on my shoulder again, and his other arm wraps around my waist. He holds me tight against his chest, adjusting the blanket around me to make sure I’m always covered and warm. "When I first got clean, I brought my medallion with me everywhere I went. I couldn't leave the house without it. I brought it with me on cases, to the store, everywhere. Then time passed and I could leave without it, and I was really proud of that. But then Maeve died and suddenly it was like I was right back at square one. I couldn't go anywhere without it. I needed the reminder of all my hard work and dedication or else I would've easily relapsed."

"Is," my voice is shakier than I wanted it to be, "is there something that's making you wanna relapse now?"

"Stalking cases," he answers, and that's not at all the answer I was expecting. I’m not really sure exactly what kind of answer I was expecting, but it wasn’t stalking cases. "They're common and they're not always violent so we don't always investigate but when we do, I hate it. It’s like torture on those cases, just having to relive what happened with her. Hotch doesn't even let me take part in takedowns of stalking cases because we both know I wouldn't be stable if a hostage situation happened. So,” he tucks his head into my neck this time, and I can feel his lips on my skin, leaving light kisses to make up for the heavy topic, “yeah, that’s what I was keeping from you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, dove. I understand.”

I turn my head away from him and stare out at the city. The sun is setting and the sky is painted a pretty pink and purple, mixed together in a way I wish I could achieve in my work. But the people below pay no mind to it. They speed-walk to whatever their next destination is and keep their noses tucked in their phones, or to wave their hand for a cab and bark out orders and throw money at the person who spends their lives being chauffeurs to rude politicians and businessmen. Nobody cares to look up and admire the beauty around them, beauty that they won’t see some day. They don’t look up at the unnatural colors in the sky or check to see if the clouds have taken the form of a shoe or a candy wrapper. They just walk, and walk, and walk. They don’t care. Nobody ever cares.

"I'm sorry," I choke out, tears suddenly pouring down my cheeks. I reach for Spencer’s hands, intertwining our fingers but keeping his arms around my waist. I don’t want to be without his comfort and his arms and his warmth. He seems to feel the same because he pulls me even closer somehow, my body completely flush against his. "I love you, Spencer, and you-” I hiccup, “fuck, you didn't deserve any of that."

"You're all I need in this life, Amelia. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love again but now I have you and," I can feel his hands shaking in mine, and although it’s hard to tell if it’s from the cold or from anxiety. "I just love you so much. Please don’t leave me."

"I’m never gonna leave you, Spencer Reid. Ever. I'm not going anywhere," I whisper, but I can't tell who it's a reassurance for. "I love you."

///

SPENCER

///

THE NEXT MORNING

///

No amount of nights turned into mornings at Amelia’s apartment could get me used to being woken up to sun beams in my eyes.

I scrunch up my face as the sunlight flows through the windows and almost blinds me. I roll over and reach towards Amelia's side of the bed, grabbing a fistful of sheets instead of a fistful of her. I let out a disappointed sigh and force my eyes open, popping one lid open to confirm my sad realization that I'm waking up alone. Now I'm understanding how Amelia feels when I have to leave for cases.

I can feel the heat blasting and it makes it bearable for me to exist in only my pair of pajama pants, so I don't bother to put a shirt on. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and check my phone, just to make sure there isn't a spontaneous case on a Saturday, and there thankfully isn't anything yet. So I run a hand through my hair that is probably wild and climb out of bed, making the trek down the occasionally terrifying floating stairs.

I pause on the last step when I peer into the kitchen, the dumbest smile appearing on my face when I locate my girlfriend. She's sitting on the counter in the kitchen with her legs up and crossed at the ankles, dressed in only an oversized white tee shirt and pale blue wool socks. Matching, unfortunately. She's wearing her normal butterfly necklace, I can see from here, but she's missing all of her piercings- nose ring and earrings. Her natural curls are out in full force and are only contained by one of her patterned scarves, wrapped around her head like a headband. She's holding an apple in one hand and she has a book resting in her lap but I can't quite see the spine to read the title. But this is one of the moments I'm thankful for my fancy memory, as Amelia calls it, because she looks so effortlessly stunning and perfect and beautiful that I'm glad I'll remember this moment forever.

I watch her for a moment. She wiggles her toes every few seconds and then takes a loud bite from the apple, flipping the page and darting her eyes across the lines. Effortless. Remarkable. I'm often blown away by her simple beauty. I wonder how she does it without trying. How she renders me speechless. How she makes me feel like a teenager in love. How she makes me feel like a lovesick puppy, galloping around at her feet with stars in my eyes. How she makes me feel like she's completely out of my league. How she makes me feel like I'm the luckiest man in the whole world.

When I decide that I have to get my hands on her, I step off the stairs. She still doesn't notice my presence, I credit that to my bare feet on the hardwood, and she only looks up when a floorboard creaks. She lifts her chin and reveals her stunning dimples, ocean eyes wide for me. "Morning!" she quips, tucking a bookmark into the page and setting her book aside. "Wasn't sure you were ever gonna wake up."

"I don't like waking up alone," I brush my fingertips along her leg as I walk closer, eliciting a shy giggle from Amelia. No matter how many times I touch her, she still gets shy about it. I peer over her legs and my eyebrows raise. "You're reading Rossi's book? What's that about?"

Amelia giggles, picking up the book and inspecting the cover. "It's more of a courtesy, actually. I bought all three books of his the other day and I'm planning on ripping out all the pages to use for a piece of art for my next exhibit. But I figured I'd read them first before I destroy them, you know? He saved my life as a kid so the least I can do is read his books before I destroy them."

"Hmm," it's not really at all the answer I was expecting. I watch her face as she plasters on a shy smile, kicking her feet like an excited child and clutching the book to her chest. I don’t have the heart to ask her any more questions about her decision to rip up Rossi’s books because I don’t want to wipe that smile off her face. "Interesting. Breakfast?"

"Not before you give me a kiss," Amelia's delicate voice balances out the horrors Rossi illustrates in his book as she brings her lips to mine. "If you're cooking, I don't care what you make."

"Sounds like a plan,” and just as I didn’t have the heart to question her art, I don’t have it in me to go further than an inch away from her lips before she decides it’s okay. So that leads to kissing for far too long, the book tumbling out of Amelia’s hands and onto her lap, my hands holding her jaw. Her lips are different in the morning, slightly chapped and not yet bleeding from being chewed relentlessly. But, for some reason, I prefer them like this. And I definitely prefer chapped lips to glossy lips that get all over my face and takes a makeup remover wipe to get rid of. I quickly flip through the last few images of Amelia in my head and notice she hasn’t worn lip gloss in a while. Maybe that’s for the better though. She won’t have to hear me complain and watch me rub at my lips and grimace when my hand gets sticky too.

“Okay, okay,” Amelia giggles, grabbing my hands and pushing them away, “let’s not get carried away. I am hungry.”

“Then why didn’t you make breakfast yourself?” I sass, turning on my heel to start collecting breakfast ingredients and feed my hungry lady.

“Haha,” she snickers sarcastically, rolling her eyes at me. And a comfortable silence falls over us as I start cooking, occasionally glancing over to watch her thumb through the book. It etches a hopefully permanent smile onto my face.

"I do have a question, though," Amelia fiddles with the corner of a page, curling it between her finger and keeping her eyes down. I hum lazily in response, mixing pancakes batter, far too focused on making sure I get measurements correct to be able to make eye contact with her. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable but your medallion- well, it," she sighs, obviously not able to find the words for what she wants to say.

It’s not my favorite topic of conversation so early in the morning, but I guess the sooner Amelia asks her questions and gets them out of her system, the sooner we can stop having conversations about my demons. "You can ask whatever you want to.”

"It's not a bad question, I don't think," she responds, and turns so her legs are swinging over the edge of the counter, facing me. "I'm just curious what the compass on the back means. It seems odd to me. I mean, the front says recovery and all but the back has a compass? I've never heard of these medallions having a compass on them."

"The designs differ," despite the relatively tame question, I busy myself by trying to create perfect circles with the batter on the hot skillet. She could've asked me about my experience with drugs and how it feels and she could have unknowingly triggered me, but no. She just wants to know about the compass. I guess that’s better than making me relive relapse or make me remember what a high feels like. "I've obviously been clean for more than a year, so the other medallions I have for other years have different designs on the back. But I always liked the one year medallion the best."

"Will you tell me why?" She presses gently, pulling her knees back up to her chest. I've seen her do this plenty of times, shut herself off from conversations, I mean, and I hate it when she does. On normal days, when she shuts herself off from conversations, I do what I can to put her at ease and get her to open back up. But if anyone should be shutting off from this conversation, it’s me. "You don't have to, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Getting to one year is really hard," I admit quickly, keeping my eyes off her as I move the pancakes from the skillet to a plate. "So when I finally got to one year and I got the medallion, it was a huge accomplishment for me. And the compass? It’s just a thing that my program preached. North is always regarded as the right way to go, even though that’s not really true in theory, but I never pointed that out. But my program had us pick someone or something to represent north for each person. So that way, if anyone was ever going through withdrawals or cravings, we could think of that thing we chose and it would give us the motivation to get through a hard time. The thing would give us a reason to go north, the right way. Basically, the way to recovery. The way to go back home.”

“And what did you choose?”

“My job,” it’s such an unenthusiastic answer, no light or happiness in my voice. “My job was all I had at the time, but my job being my north never felt right. It was never really motivating. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to get past a year. I had nothing to look forward to.”

"One more question," Amelia speaks, softer this time. "Can you come here?"

I look up and find that Amelia is resting her chin on her knees, giving me that same cute smile from before. I nod, scooping the last pancake off the skillet and putting it on the pile before walking over, dragging my feet. Amelia drops her legs and holds out her arms, wrapping them around my shoulders the moment I get close enough. I instantly melt into her embrace and tuck my face into her neck, feeling her fingers on the back of my neck, tracing small shapes and letters.

"I know that I didn't know you back then," Amelia whispers, warm breath tickling my skin, "but I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you're strong enough to keep your head up and stay clean. And thank you for trusting me with all this information. I love you so much."

My body is filled with that familiar warmth that I only feel when Amelia is around, and I can't stop the smile that comes to my face. The tears in my eyes dry up quickly at the praise. "Thank you for loving me."

"I always will," she pulls away and slides her hands up to my face, pointer fingertips tracing my jaw and up to my cheekbones. She swipes her finger across my bottom lip and then brings it up to my nose, poking it gently and giggling under her breath. She’s deep in thought, I can tell from the look on her face. "You know,” she smooths down my eyebrows and then her fingers follow my hairline all the way down to my jaw, “I’ll be your north," she suggests. "I know you always tell me that talking to me when you're on cases helps, but I wanna help you with everything, with every aspect of your life. I wanna help you with the ugliest parts of your life, and not just the ugly parts of your job. I'll be your north. I'll be your reason to come home and I'll be- I'll be like your guiding light. I'll be your lighthouse. I'll just," her hands halt on my cheeks and her legs twist around my waist, bringing our bodies flush, "I'll be your north."

My heart is pounding as I smile at her, the tears that had just dried up coming back tenfold. She's smiling her stupidly gorgeous smile but not even making eye contact, just staring down at my lips as she lets her brain settle from all the words she just vomited and as she holds herself back from her obvious impulse to actually kiss me. So I lean forward and peck her lips, untangling our limbs. "I'll be right back," I ignore the sting in my chest at the disappointment clear on her face as I pull completely away from her hold. But I kiss her cheek for reassurance before I disappear back upstairs, grabbing my go-bag.

I return to the kitchen with last year’s Christmas present in my hands and open up to the page I'm searching for, walking up to my girl. Her back is to me, pouring more batter onto the skillet to finish up breakfast. But the moment she puts the bowl of batter back on the counter, I swing my arms over her head and bring the sketchbook in front of her to show her a journal entry.

"I didn't always use it for sketches," I explain as she grabs the book from me, "but I use it. A lot. Read that entry," Amelia goes radio silent as she reads, and I rest my chin on my shoulder to read with her.

Amelia is my north. I always thought that I'd be alone for the rest of my life and I'd never fall in love again. I thought I had been scorned too hard and I'd never recover. But Amelia gives me a reason to want to go home. She gives me a reason to not make that reckless decision that comes to my mind in the field and she gives me a reason to not go out in the middle of the night and go searching for a new dealer. She gives me a reason to live and maybe it's wrong of me to rely so heavily on another person who could leave me just as easily as everyone else in my life has, but I don't care. She gives me a purpose and she's the reason I come home every day.

It's the little things she does that make me love her. I love seeing her face pop up on Garcia's video chats and I love seeing the snacks she leaves in my desk and the notes she leaves for me and how she always makes a point to clean my apartment when she's over. I've never met someone quite like her.

I didn't think I'd ever find a person to personify "north." I always thought that "north" would remain this mysterious entity that I would blindly chase after my entire life and remain following towards a life of recovery, or a life of constant relapse and pain. Or that I would just continue lying to myself and saying that my “north” was my job. But now I know that Amelia is that "north" that will always be by my side. As long as I have her, then I'll never have to chase after a nameless, faceless goal. I'll always have my north right beside me.

Amelia sniffles as she shuts the sketchbook, setting it gently on the counter. "Okay, fuck you for making me cry."

I toss my head back laugh, grabbing her waist to turn her around, taking the job of wiping her tears. "I’m sorry, love, that wasn't my intention."

"That was really sweet, dove," Amelia disregards her tears, throwing her arms around me and pressing her face into my neck. “I’m never gonna leave you, Spence. I want you to believe that. I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” I clutch her waist in my hands as if that would keep her from leaving, “sometimes, I just feel helpless and unlovable and when I feel like that, I come to you.”

“Good. You’re not unlovable. I am so insanely in love with you and you’re never, ever getting rid of me.”

“Good,” I echo, pressing my lips to her shoulder and trailing kisses up her neck. “You’re-” Amelia’s stomach growling silences me, her cheeks turning pink as she ducks her head away. “Okay, alright, the mushy love fest is over. Eat some breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, turning in my arms to dish out pancakes for us, “I’m just really hungry and I wasn’t gonna make anything until you woke up. But the bottom line is that I love you and I’m always gonna be in your apartment, cleaning shit you don’t want me to and annoying the hell out of you.”

“Yeah, you definitely annoy me when you leave the curtains open and I get blinded in the morning.”

Amelia turns to me with the cutest smile, holding a plate of pancakes out for me. “At least you get to wake up next to me in the morning.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I lean over the plate to give her what seems like the millionth kiss to the morning, “waking up next to you is pretty amazing.”

TAGLIST

@bxnnywriting @babybloodstonebones @blameitonthenight21 @feralreid @anepiphany @goldenalvez @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrryspencer @m0rcia @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @yasminwashere @shrimpyblog @blakes-dictionxry @anamelessfacelessnerd @wonderlandhatter @whxt-to-write @inkandexchange @just-call-me-non

#nikos north fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fic #dr reid #dr spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #matthew gubler

29 notes · View notes

trekkie-in-space · 5 years ago

Text

KakagaiWeek2020 - Day 1 - Burden

Author : JackB

Title : Taking the Burden

Rating : General Audience.

Words : 2392

Resume : Today it’s Kakashi inauguration as the new Hokage. It doesn’t matter Gai is one week out of the coma, he will attend.

Tag : Gai killed Madara AU, Injury, Long Recovery, Negotiation, talking about death, canon disabled characters, Kakashi sharp nose hc, a bit of angst and a bit of fluff

Prompt : Burden

It’s not that Gai was particularly stubborn, it’s just that he had a strong will and enough optimism to last two lifetimes. It also didn’t really matter he had been forbidden from attending Kakashi inauguration as the new Hokage. He would be there without fault.

If they didn’t want him to come, they should have wrapped it up when he was still in the coma. But now he was awake and no matter how weak and frail he felt he would still go. It didn’t matter if he barely managed to push his own wheelchair, it didn’t matter if he still couldn’t stay awake for more than a couple of hours. Those things were not important, it was just details in the end.

Getting out of the hospital without being seen by the doctors and nurses was a detail. None would risk Tsunade wrath if he dared quit the hospital and they would do everything to keep him in. Sneaking past them had been feasible, he wasn’t a jonin for nothing after all. Feasible, but exhausting in itself.

Going down the stairs on the backdoor of his level with his wheelchair had been a detail, and a terrible idea. No matter how slow and gentle he managed to pass each step, the shock would awaken pain in his whole body. He had opened the eight gates, he had defeated Madara. Enduring this pain was a detail, one that left him panting and shaking at the end, sure, but a detail nonetheless.

Pushing his wheelchair through the soft slope until he reached the Konoha’s great hall, had just been another step in his mission. One he wasn’t proud of as he barely had the strength to move. He guesses he underestimated his injuries. Thankfully an old man helped him to the main door. He was grateful for the bandage still covering his whole body and face because he would surely look pallid by now and this kind man would have rushed him back to the hospital in a second if he saw it.

The fresh air still felt good though. Beside the short five minutes walk Tsunade had given him once upon insistent request, he didn’t actually have the right to step a foot outside. Even opening the windows had been strictly controlled. It was all about ‘not getting germs from outside’ and ‘regulated environment for better healing’ or ‘not catching a cold from a damn breeze’. He had argued he was more resistant than that and they could cut him some slack. Tsunade had argued back that, for a fact, he wasn’t as resistant anymore and if he didn’t stop whining she would cut visit too. He didn’t argue for too long, because you just didn’t argue with Tsunade. Or, more likely, because he passed out pretty quickly from the excitement this argument had been. It was easier to think the former than to agree with the latter.

But those were still details in his book, not enough to stop him from attending Kakashi’s inauguration. His struggle might have made him late, but it also meant nobody was here to notice he shouldn’t be here and decide they would send him back to the hospital. Nor was there anyone to see him pathetically push his wheelchair or struggle to open absolutely every door he had to pass through. You would think opening a door in a wheelchair is not that difficult. Well, it is.

With the last shaking strength he had left he pushed himself inside the great hall. All were focused on the scene and didn’t pay attention to him. He didn’t have a great view because everybody was standing, but a kind shinobi noticed him and pushed him inside the crowd to a place that allowed him a better view. It wasn’t great, but at least he could see Tsunade-sama and Kakashi, which, in the end, is the only thing that mattered.

Despite being late the ceremony had barely begun. He focused all his attention on the scene, trying to ignore his shaking body and pushes back the dizziness. He felt awful. But well, the eight gates made it an art form to put everything else into perspective. Relatively nothing could ever be as awful as the eight gates, and if he had managed it back then it meant he could handle anything now.

It was a detail really, and after everything he had done to get there he wouldn’t collapse to exhaustion.

‘Everything I’ve done.’ Not so long ago attending this ceremony wouldn’t have been such a trouble.

___

Kakashi’s senses are awakened in an instant. He wrinkles his nose.

‘No.’

His focus shift entirely out of the ceremony.

‘He dared.’

He immediately walks to Tsunade giving her speech and touches her arm to catch her attention. She turn to him with a smile.

“Oh no, you agreed to take this burden off my hands, it’s too late to flee.. ” She whispers with a grin.

“Gai’s here !” He cut, his throat is dry and he nearly strangles while telling them. He can’t believe it. Tsunade immediately lose her smile.

“No, he can’t. He’s too weak.. ”

“Just picked up his scent.”

He can see her jaws clench and anger rouse in her eyes.

“Maito Gai !” Her tone is so terrifying that nearly everybody tense despite her anger not being directed at them. It’s just instinct.

Shizune in the front row is alert at the instant she hears the name, it’s the same for every medical-nin in the room. They all know about it, it doesn’t matter if they worked on it or not, Maito’s case is so peculiar and exceptional that it’s a recurrent talk among them, there’s so much to learn from it, and they all know he shouldn’t be here. At all.

The crowd is quick to disperse around Gai and in an instant both Tsunade and Kakashi are at his side.

“What are you doing h.. ”

“Why aren’t you in your hospital bed ?” Tsunade tone is severe. She grabbed Gai by the collar and lifted him a bit out of his chair.

Gai let out a whimper, he is barely holding, his limbs shaking to the effort. He closed his eyes an instant, feeling the dizziness come back.

‘No ! Fight it, fight it !’ He opens his eyes and stares back at Tsunade. He wants to give a small apologetic smile but can’t manage it.

At his side Kakashi and Shizune, who looked pissed off at first, are now entirely focused on calming Tsunade. He hates how people see him as fragile now. He is, so it’s fair, but he still doesn’t like it.

Tsunade ignore them and give Gai a small shake. He groans and let out a huff, suddenly afraid to receive a hit because he knows for a fact he wouldn’t be able to survive it. But he also knows she wouldn’t waste all the effort they made to keep him alive to anger.

“Why are you here ?” She knows the answer, they all know the answer, but she still needs to ask.

“Couldn’t miss the new Hokage inauguration.”

“I knew we should have done it before he woke up.” Shizune says with frustration in her voice. Clearly this has been a topic they talked about a lot.

Tsunade very carefully put in back in his chair and he can’t help but grab his chest and give a shaky breath as he settles the dizziness and nausea away. They are surrounded by all the medical-nin, all ready to intervene in case a problem occurs. But Gai would hate to take more of the spotlight than he already does. This had never been his intention. He wanted to be a quiet and proud witness.

“You know you can’t be out. Do you have any idea of the risk you’re taking ? How many infections you can get just by being there ? Your immune system is already on its knees and you’re just adding to it.” She scolds. Behind her Kakashi is weirdly silent, he is not sure if he is worried or angry and Gai doesn’t like it, maybe he is mad. Maybe he would rather not have him around. “Bring him back to his room.” She order a few medical-nin.

“No.” He stops them.

“No ?” Tsunade repeat with a chuckle. Her patience getting thin.

“No ! The risk is already taken, staying won’t add to it.” He stares at her, not backing down, despite the fact she is terrifying.

“He has a point.” Kakashi notice, taking all of Tsunade anger on himself in an instant, he takes a step back just to be careful.

“He doesn’t, risk only go higher the more he stays here. It’s out of question, he belongs in a hospital bed until I say so !” She turn to Gai. “Defeating Madara don’t give you all the right !”

“It was never about that.. ”

“If he stays, we can rush the ceremony.” Kakashi proposes in a whisper.

Tsunade soften to the idea. They both want it done and out of the way as fast as possible and Gai case could allow them to break protocol. Also even if Gai protest would be fruitless in his state, she knows psychology plays a lot in successful recovery. Sending him back to the hospital after doing so much to come could actually be more detrimental to his recovery than staying would be.

She gets at his level. “I will let you stay if you promise to follow all the rules and protocols I put for your recovery after that. Deal ?” She can see at his posture and his eyes how drained he is. He is only holding out of pure spite and pride and she has to salute his will.

He holds her stare and nod. Tsunade press her lips together, ‘if he can’t even talk anymore…’ this is a bad idea.

“Fine.” She agrees but her tone is dry and severe. “We finish it in ten minutes.” She turn to Gai one last time. “Don’t come to complain if you die.” Then walks to the scene.

Gai brace himself to follow her. He is not sure he has enough strength to push his wheelchair to the front row, but thankfully Shizune is the one to push him. Kakashi gently press his hand before stepping on the scene again.

They rush the ceremony without guilt and at the instant it’s official, Kakashi rush at his side, lift him out of his chair. Tsunade is just behind.

“Hold me.” He says. It’s just a whisper and it makes Gai shiver.

He does his best to cling on him and in an instant they are out of the room and back at the hospital where doctors and nurses rush to the room as well as Tsunade who followed them.

As Kakashi lay him on the bed, he wants to say something but only manage to collapse to the feeling of Kakashi’s warms leaving him.

When he awakes again, night has fallen, only a small warm light lit up the room. Kakashi is on a chair at his side, gently falling asleep but not quite sleeping yet. A move on his part immediately rouse him up.

“You took your time.” His voice is so gentle, but also scolding, Gai can’t help but smile.

“I’ve just been out a few hours.” He says back.

“Two days actually.”

“Oh !”

Kakashi sit on the bed and grab his hand. Silent reigns between them for a moment, Kakashi gentle caress is the only thing that smooth Gai worries.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“For nearly dying a second time ? Yes, you can !” Gai frown but ignore it.

“No, for interrupting your inauguration. I didn’t mean to steal the attention. You deserved to have a proper ceremony.”

“The ceremony was proper.”

“It was rushed.”

“Which is perfect for me, you know how much I hate when it goes on, and goes on, indefinitely. You saved me here. Gave me the perfect excuse.” Gai give a small chuckle. “Plus who says I want the attention ? Feel free to steal it all, always, I don’t want it.”

“I just really wanted to see you become Hokage. It’s an honor. Congratulations.”

“It’s a burden.”

“Burden.. You’re exaggerating.” He stirs up and try to straighten but fail. His body hurt. Kakashi seeing this gently push on his chest and mutter a ‘stay’ so quiet Gai barely discern it.

“I don’t want the position.”

“Too late you took it.” Kakashi chuckles,

“I know. Everybody tells me the same. Now I have to wait until Naruto is ready to take it from me.” They pause. “You should have been the one taking the post.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious, you would have made a wonderful Hokage.. ”

“No, not anymore.”

“What ?”

“I can’t protect the village anymore if need be. I would make a pitiful Hokage.”

“Gai.. ”

“I’m.. Useless now.” Kakashi frown.

“Ah yes, as if the one who killed Madara could ever be useless.” Gai stare at him. “I mean it. And if you think I’m not gonna make you useful, you’re mistaken. There is more you can offer than your fighting. But for that you have to stop being so kin on reaching your grave early. Don’t get me wrong I’m glad you came to see me, but I’m the one supposed to die first.”

“Since when you’re supposed to be the one dying first ?”

“Since always.”

“As if I will let it happen.”

“I’m serious, stop scaring me by taking absurd risk.”

“It was not absurd risk.”

“It absolutely was. Nobody else would have managed that, one week out of the coma and with the injuries you have, yet you did. Nobody even knows how you managed not to die from the effort itself.” Gai scoff. “I want you by my side.” His tone changed, softer and bit hurt. He bends to him and slowly pull down his mask. “I need you by my side.” He gently presses his lips on Gai’s. He’s shaking and Gai only truly realize how worried he has been.

“I will.” Kakashi press his forehead against his. “I will always stay by your side as long as you have me.”

End.

#KAKAGAI WEEK #KKGWEEK #KAKAGAI #MAITO GAI #GAI #KAKASHI #KAKASHI HATAKE #KAKAGAI WEEK 2020 #it's still 25 dec in my time zone so I'm not late lol #still I had to finish a bit in a rush #hope the story is still fine lol #^^'

25 notes · View notes

mercheswan · 5 years ago

Text

Steospooktober - Ouija

Also in - AO3

Stiles arrives to the Raeken's Manor to try to help the Ghost who lives there to find peace.

The Ghost, Tara, wants to talk with her little brother. Theodore Raeken.

Why is Tara pointing out how cute Stiles is to her brother?!

Stiles liked to call himself a supernatural investigator. One of his favourite things to do was visiting, allegued Haunted Houses. That was how he ended up in the Raeken Manor.

The Raeken’s were a wealthy family, the mansion was secluded and it covered an extensive land.

Stiles heard that the ghost haunting the house was female, and thanks to Stiles research he was pretty sure that it was the ghost of Tara Raeken. The Raeken’s had two children, Tara the oldest and Theodore the youngest. Tara died in her teens, apparently from an accident as no one was prosecuted for it.

Stiles accommodated himself in one of the rooms of the House, a teenage boy’s room which probably belonged to Theodore. He totally broke into the House and he was hoping not to have problems with the police and/or the ghost. The house was basically intact, the Raeken’s must have fled the place to forget about the death of their daughter.

On the first night Stiles tried to contact the ghost, but there was no luck, still Stiles did believe that someone else was with him in the house, he got pretty good at feeling the supernatural.

It was on the fourth night that the ouija board he used moved. The ghost was indeed the one of Tara Raeken and she seemed to like him which made things much more easy. After several days of conversation Stiles figured out that, what Tara wanted was to speak with Theo, her brother.

“Well let me see... oh here Theo Raeken, he has a Facebook page. Oh he is a resident in a hospital and... oh he is hot” Stiles said looking at Theo’s profile picture. Stiles could swear that he felt a pat in his shoulder. “Got it, not ogling the baby bro” Stiles snorted.

Stiles wasn’t sure how to make Theo come to the house so he could speak with his dead sister. He decided that he could pretend to buy the house, it has been on sale for many years but no one has ever bought it because of the ghost.

Stiles met with Theo at the entrance, the Raeken man seemed hesitant to enter, he must have not visited his old house in a very long time.

“Mr Stilinski?” Theo asked.

“Call me Stiles” Stiles said shaking Theo’s hand.

“You’re not what I expected” Theo commented. Stiles raised his eyebrow amused. “You’re young and you look normal...” Theo added

Stiles chuckled. “Thanks?”

“I mean, I’ve never managed to sell the house cause all the people who claim to be interested are weirdos thinking that it’s haunted or something” Theo said.

“You don’t believe in ghosts Mr Raeken?” Stiles asked. That would make things a little bit more complicated.

“Theo please. I guess I’m a man of science” Theo responded.

“They say the ghost could be your sister's?” Stiles said nonchalantly. But he clearly made a mistake, Theo became rigid and looked at him with an unfriendly expression. Stiles kept messing up.

“My sister did not die in here” Was all Theo said.

Stiles thought that the only way to make Theo believe would be to be direct with his approach.

“Look, I’m actually a supernatural investigator...” Stiles muttered.

Theo snorted angrily. “Of course you’re one of the freaks. I would have to ask you to leave Mr Stilinski” Theo said coldly.

“Wait... you... please, I’ve been talking to your sister...” Stiles explained.

“You’ve been what!? Oh god you’re crazy, I’m calling the cops” Theo declared reaching out to his phone. Stiles made a movement to try and stop him and at moment a vase broke, starling the two men.

“I told you, she wants to speak with you, she’s always asking about you” Stiles insisted.

“Did you put a trap in there? Why are you doing this! Let the dead be dead!” Theo shouted furiously.

“I’m trying to help her! And you! She’s obviously has something she needs to tell you! That’s why she is trapped here!” Stiles shouted back.

“She would not be wanting to speak with me. IT’S MY FAULT SHE IS DEAD!” Theo stormed off the house.

Stiles stood watching at the open door to which Theo exited. The room’s wood floor made a noise. Tara. Stiles ran to catch Theo.

“Theo wait. Wait!!” Stiles exclaimed. “Please you have to believe me, I’m not doing this to open old scars or to create drama, I really want to help her, Tara it’s been nice, believe me, I’ve deal with much more horrible ghost that her. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you for whatever happened, she wants to say good bye” Stiles said meeting Theo’s wet eyes.

Theo huffed turning around but not moving away from Stiles. “It was my fault... she... she didn’t die here, she died in a lake in the woods, we were playing, I left, I stopped looking for her, and she was hurt and couldn’t get out...” Theo cried. So it was an accident, but It could have been prevented.

Stiles raised his hand and hesitantly placed it on Theo’s shoulders. “Come with me, we can talk to her through my ouija” Stiles declared.

“You’re just a charlatan trying to get some money, I’ll give it to you, but stop with the nonsense” Theo muttered still crying.

“I don’t want your money. I swear” Stiles claimed taking Theo’s hand.

Theo reluctantly flowed Stiles. Stiles set the Ouija board. “Do you know the rules?” Stiles asked. Theo nodded.

“Hello Tara” Stiles said to the air.

The ouija moved.

“You’re moving it” Theo accused.

“No I’m not” Stiles assured.

Theo. The words in the ouija showed. Dreadful brother. Was the next world it showed. Stiles felt cold suddenly. He really thought that Tara wanted to say goodbye to his brother, not to insult him, Stiles did not want to see Theo suffer more.

Theo exhaled and Stiles saw that he had a smile on his face. Weird. “How did you know about that?” Theo asked meeting Stiles eyes.

“What?” Stiles questioned.

“She used to call me that, to her friends, pretending I was a nuisance” Theo huffed. “Is it really you Tara?” Theo asked.

Yes. The ouija answered.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” Theo cried.

I love you. It wasn’t your fault. You good doctor.

Theo laughed. “How does she know that I’m a doctor?”

“Well... I-I might have been staying here for the last couple of weeks...” Stiles admitted. Theo raised his eyebrows in shocked expression. “I’ll pay for the electricity and the water! I wanted to see see what was the problem and why she stayed linked to the house” Stiles said.

Stiles nice.

“Oh thank you sweetheart” Stiles laughed.

He cute.

Theo snorted. “Are you seriously playing matchmaker right now?!”

“Oh you like boys too...” Stiles muttered. Theo smirked amused. Stiles refused to blush.

The fire of candles on the table grew stronger. It was getting hotter and not only because of the fire, Stiles was suddenly very aware of Theo’s hands touching his.

I have to go. The Ouija said.

“Wait! No, I want to talk more! We waisted so much time!” Theo complained.

You good. I’m free.

“Tara...” Theo whispered.

Stiles placed his hands on top of Theo squeezing them, the later met his eyes. “It’s time to say goodbye” Stiles smiled kindly.

Theo nodded at Stiles and they both moved the their hands to the goodbye words written in the ouija board. Stiles could swear that he listed a soft female voice whispering goodbye, and just like that, the Haunted House was no more.

Stiles was relieved that in the end all Tara wanted was to help his brother deal with the guilt inside him.

“You can’t contact her again, can you?” Theo asked his eyes covered in tears.

Stiles denied with his head. “She’s gone” Stiles said. Theo covered his face with his hands. “Theo… she is where she is supposed to be, whatever that is…” Stiles tried to console Theo.

Theo hugged Stiles placing his chin on the supernatural investigador’s shoulder. Stiles caught off guard by Theo’s sudden need of physical contact, but he hugged the doctor back.

“Thank you” Theo whispered into Stiles’s neck.

“What for?” Stiles questioned in a hushed voice. Theo’s closeness was begining to be distracting.

“For insisting although I called you a freak and a fraud” Theo explained.

Stiles chuckled. “Not the first one” Theo snorted too. “Are you okay? I know saying goodbye it’s hard, but she really loved you, and she was really proud of what you achieved” Stiles said.

“You investigated me for her?” Theo smirked.

“O-only stuff that you can find online… Like where did you study, where you lived, what were you doing for a living… I checked your social media” Stiles admitted.

“I’m clearly in disadvanyage here, I know nothing about you except for the fact that you have a very peculiar occupation, that you are very persistant and that my sister liked you” Theo chuckled. Stiles huffed a laugh. After a few seconds in which Theo looked at Stiles with a curious glare like he wanted to figure out Stiles, he asked “You’re not buying the house, aren’t you?” Stiles laughed out loud and Theo smiled, Stiles mouthed no between laughs. “I guess I’ll keep it for now” Theo said.

“It’s a nice house” Stiles agreed.

“If you’re not getting the house I can’t let you go empty handed” Theo stated. Stiles looked at him with a confused and amused expression. “How about dinner?” Theo proposed. Oh. Was he flirting? “And you can tell me a little bit more about my sister…” Theo added. Oh. he is not flirting. “And what you thought about my gym pics” Theo grinned seductively. Oh.

“S-sure!” Stiles agreed.

Sometimes there was good in goodbyes. Wherever Tara was she surely was happy about his little brothers choice of boyfriend.

#steospooktober #steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf au #steo au #steo fic #stiles x theo #tara raeken #ouija aesthetic #ouija au #ouija board

48 notes · View notes

reallifewriterwrites · 5 years ago

Text

DAY 5: First times

First time worrying

"I almost got it!"

Brock, Pikachu and Misty all looked on worried when Ash was climbing a high tree to grab pokeball he accidentally somehow threw up there.

"Ash, get down!" Brock yelled. "I can use Onyx to grab it! Don't do it!"

"Don't! I got this!" Ash yelled.

Misty furrowed her eyebrows. This idiot boy...he was going to get himself...hurt.

Ash grabbed the pokeball, but his foot slipped.

They all gasped as Ash fell down from the tree. He fell from meters high into a bush.

"Ash!" Misty and Brock yelled and they ran towards him to see if he was okay.

"Are you hurt?" Brock helped him up.

"N-nah..." Ash looked at the pokeball in his hand. "I got charizard...plus, the bush broke my fall!"

"You idiot!" Misty suddenly screamed.

"What?" Ash said.

"You were almost dead! Don't you know how worried I was..."

"You were worried?" Ash quirked his eyebrow. "And here I thought you hated me."

"Just...shut up!"

Misty turned around and stomped away. Ash tilted his head.

What was her problem?

_______________________________________________________________________

First time holding hands

Misty was nervous. And she normally wasn't.

But today was their first date. She and Ash had finally confessed to each other and today the teen both had some free time and decided to spend the day together.

They went to the amusement park. There they went on different rides and had fun like friends would...but now they weren't supposed to be friends anymore. According to Misty's research from the girl magazine, Ash should be head over heels by now.

And she had tried everything according to the rules. She tried to crack some jokes, which Ash found funny, fluttered with her eyes, which he didn't notice and tried to get him on one of the more romantic rides, which he refused.

They sat down on a bench after going on a rollercoaster.

Misty glanced down at his hand. Now she had to grab his hand as her last resort. If that didn't work, then it would all be in vain.

"I'm done..." Ash sighed. "Really, Mist, are there even any rides left?"

He saw how Misty was staring at his hand in a daze.

"Misty?"

Misty looked at him and smiled a little.

"Ah, right! Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was...are you okay?"

Misty nodded. "Yeah, sorry for dozing off."

"No problem."

Ash grabbed her hand. Misty gasped and a blush covered her cheeks. She looked at Ash who blushed as well.

"Is there any ride you want to go on again?" He asked, acting as if this was the most normal thing for him to do.

"No...how about we go grab something to eat? Or...maybe you can let go of my hand?"

Ash blinked and stared at her. "You don't like it?"

"No...it's..." Misty gave his hand a squeeze. "...just that I like it a bit too much. Plus, this is so unlike you!"

"What?! I can be romantic!"

"Really?" Misty rolled her eyes. "Because I have been giving you signals the entire time!"

"So that's why you were being weird."

"Weird?"

"Yeah." Ash said. "Besides the good jokes, you were smiling and blinking really weird. I was about to take you to a hospital."

"Then...why did you grab my hand?" Misty asked.

"I might have read it somewhere. Plus, I like you, so I'm allowed to hold your hand!"

Misty laughed. "Of course!"

Ash laughed too. "Good! Then, let's eat!"

"Is that all you can think about?"

"Not only."

Ash blushed and looked at her with a loving gaze. A gaze that told Misty that everything was going to be fine with their relationship.

_______________________________________________________________________

First time for 'it'

(A little bit nsfw, if you're uncomfortable, just skip this part)

Their lips crashed against each other. They fell down onto the mattress with a loud thud.

Misty moaned as Ash kissed her neck. After a few years of dating she was finally ready. Yes, she was already 19 and she would have wanted to do it earlier, but there was never a right time. Plus, Ash was gone for at least a year, traveling again.

"Misty..." Ash breathed out. His hand moved down and Misty moaned a little again.

"Ash..." She whispered. "You know that this is my first time..."

Ash stopped kissing her neck. He looked at her with a grin. Misty felt her heart explode from the way he always smiled at her. Ash put his hand against her and gently rubbed it.

"Don't worry. It's my first time too."

First time proposing

"Will you marry me?"

It was a cold and stormy night. After a day at the beach, Ash and Misty went back home when it started to rain. However, they managed to get lost and had to take shelter in a nearby cave.

"Excuse me?" Misty said. It was as if she just heard Ash ask if she wanted to marry him.

Ash pulled something out of his bag. It was a small wooden box. He opened it up to reveal a bright, shining ring.

He went down on one knee and said, this time more loudly; "Will you marry me, Misty Waterflower?"

"Ash..."

"I wanted to do it on the beach, but the weather kinda ruined it for me."

"Does it matter? Even if you asked me at the end of the world, you should know my answer."

Ash stood up. "And that is...?"

"Yes. A thousand times, yes."

"Really?! Yes!"

Ash grabbed her waist and twirled her around. Misty laughed.

They kissed and kissed and stopped when Ash reminded himself that he had to put the ring on her finger.

And that's how they got engaged in a cave. Unlike most people.

_______________________________________________________________________

First time pregnant

Misty groaned.

She had a beergut. That was it. Her once toned body now had a huge gut. And all because her husband couldn't keep it in his pants.

Okay, it wasn't his fault.

But, did she want children?!

Yes.

Okay, but...

"Misty!"

Ash walked into the living room. He was holding two bags from the snackbar. His hair was a mess and with the new beard he looked a bit older than he was.

Misty looked away from the tv. She sat up from the couch and rubbed her back.

"With extra fries?" Misty asked Ash.

Ash nodded. "Yep. Just like you asked. Oh and I made sure to ask the neighbours to keep the noise down, I got Casey to help out at the gym, cleaned the pools, took Gyarados out to the lake where he had his fun and I updated your computer! Oh and..."

Misty gave him a sudden, but sweet kiss.

She pulled away with a blush on her face. "Where would I be without you?"

"Single."

"Oh ha-ha." Misty rolled her eyes. "But really...thank you. I love you."

"I love you too."

_______________________________________________________________________

First time falling in love

"Oh! Oh! Hey, I got a bite! Oh, wow, I really think this could really be a big one!"

It was a nice day. Misty Waterflower had just embarked on her adventure to become a water pokemon master! She was going to show her sister that she was talented too!

She was out fishing. At first nothing much happened, as it was very lonely and quiet, but suddenly she got something. So she pulled her line back, hoping to catch something big. But instead it was a boy and his Pikachu.

"Nah, it's just a kid. Oh and a Pokémon. Oh, are you ok?"

Misty jumped down and looked at the pokemon in the boy's arms. It looked badly injured.

"Yeah, I'm ok." The boy said.

"Not you!"

Misty gave him a slap. The boy wanted to respond, but before he could complain Misty talked further.

"Look what you done to that poor little thing. Is it breathing?"

The boy nodded slowly. "I, I... I think so."

Misty looked at the boy. He had raven black hair and brown eyes. He seemed genuinely worried for his Pikachu. Maybe he was a good guy after all...but was what it that Daisy always said? Good guys finish last or something?

Whatever.

Misty sighed and said: "Well, just dont sit there, it need a doctor right away. There's a medical center not to far from here. You've got to get moving now!"

"You mean a hospital?"

Misty rolled her eyes. "Yes, for Pokémon."

"Ok, can you tell me, which way do I go?"

Misty pointed down the bike road. She knew the nearest center because one day ago she had just cycled past it on her brand new bike.

"That way." Misty said.

The boy suddenly looked over his shoulder and back. His eyes were frantic.

"They're coming back! Run!"

They?

Misty wanted to ask him, but the boy ran to her bike, put his Pikachu in the bike's basket and jumped on.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Misty yelled.

"I'm borrowing this!"

"Wait, hey, that's my bike!"

The boy looked over his shoulder as he started to cycle away and yelled: "I'll give it back someday!"

Misty planted her hands on her hips.

"Oh you..."

She smiled a little. She didn't knew why, but her heart was pounding a bit faster than usual. That boy was a whole lot different than the boys from her old school. He was quick thinking and a lot more arrogant.

Maybe this journey wouldn't be so lonely.

#DAY 5: First times #pokeshipping week 2020 #pokeshipping #day 5

35 notes · View notes

mm2305 · 4 years ago

Text

The anniversary

Fandom : Lucifer (tv series)

Warnings / words : none this is pure fluff / 2.1 k

Pairings : Lucifer Morningstar x Chloe Decker

Disclaimer : none of these characters are mine ,rights to the rightful owners

Description : After Lucifer's return from Hell, Chloe has made preparations for their six month anniversary as a couple.

Author’s note : Hello everyone! I wrote and posted this back in June but I just realised I only posted the link to the ao3 and never the fic itself! Better late than never right? English is not my first language so please be kind. Also a big thank you to my amazing beta @forever5hines / @tossacointoyourmorningstar .

Enjoy!

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

It's funny how life turns out, isn't it? If someone had told Chloe 4 years ago that she would fall in love with that jerk, Lucifer Morningstar, she would have laughed in their faces. But here she is, shopping for their six month anniversary.

There were several obstacles in their way. The more they worked together, the more Chloe liked him. He had adopted the character of a playboy, a diva, but it wasn't exactly who he was. He was all these, but he was also smart, honest, respectful and supportive. He had a softer side which he chose to hide, in order not to get hurt. The only one who broke through his facade, was her. From then on, he did everything in his power to keep her safe. Dealt with Malcolm, his mom, his brother, Cain, went to Hell twice to save her.

When she learned the truth though,she ran and conspired with Kinley, tried to poison him. Betrayed him. Abandoned him. Even though they continued to work together after a while, nothing was the same anymore. She realized that she was in love with him and as time went by, she accepted him too. All his sides. The good, the bad and the crispy.

He had to leave though. That night at the balcony she finally told him she loved him. Even though she begged him to stay, he left. It was partly her fault, because she brought Kinley to Los Angeles. Kinley then brought the demons up to Earth. She understood why he left. The demons had to be contained. And only Lucifer could do that.

Six months later, he came back, putting an end to both his and her misery. From then on, they began talking about their feelings and visited Linda a few times. In the end though, they decided to get into a relationship.

They were happier than ever before. Worked together, spent lots of time with each other, had dates. Of course, they had their problems too. Lucifer was still struggling to believe that there were people in his life who loved and appreciated him. To him, it seemed like a good dream, that's bound to end very soon. Chloe reassured him many times,but the feeling remained rooted deep in his heart. Chloe, on the other hand, was dealing with her own guilt. She tried to poison and hurt him. She wondered, even now, why the hell she tried to do that. What she also wondered, was if she was good enough for him. Chloe Decker, a human, a nobody , good enough for the Devil? The Lightbringer? They both had to work on their feelings, that's for sure.

At the moment, she is at a mall with Ella. It's their six month anniversary the next day and she had prepared a dinner at LUX for herself and Lucifer. For this reason, she wanted to get a new dress. Maze was babysitting Trixie and Linda had a therapy session scheduled for a patient. Only Ella was available. The problem is that they've been searching for hours and they've got nothing so far.

"Come on girl, tell me how's the relationship with the Devil going?", Ella inquired.

"It's been good. More than good, actually. He makes me very happy.", she replied smiling.

"I can see that. You're glowing Chloe. He is too. I've told you that I ship Deckerstar, haven't I?"

" Yes Ella. Many, many, many times. Anyway, I'm telling you, if we don't find anything in the next 30 minutes, then I'm going to wear one of my own dresses. It's been 3 hours and we haven't found anything! " she complained pouting just a little.

" Oh shut up Decker. Look I found this. It's beautiful, isn't it? "

" Mmm… I'll try it. In fact that's the last I'm trying. Then I'm going home. " she said taking the dress from Ella.

When she came out Ella gasped in awe.

" Oh my God! You look gorgeous!", she commented shocked.

"Really? ", asked Chloe turning around to look at herself in the mirror.

Ella has excellent taste , she thought. No one could deny that. This satin dress was simple but elegant. Not too formal, but still perfect for her purpose. It had a color almost identical to her eyes. Icy-blue. The fabric soft and feeling wonderful on her skin. The dress hugged her figure but it wasn't clingy. It reached to just a little more than her knee. It really was perfect for her.

"I'm getting this.", she decided after a few moments.

***************

Lucifer loves speed. It makes him feel free and freedom and free will are things he has and will always stand up for. At the moment, he is racing through the highways of Los Angeles, in the comfort of his beloved, black Corvette,at high speed. The air landing on his face as he passes through the roads, the whole feeling of freedom, still seems incredible to him. That's one of the main reasons he bought a convertible. Something else he loves even more than this though, is his beloved Detective. Chloe. He's known her for years, and she wormed her way into his heart, since the first moment he met her. They've been through a lot. His mom, Cain, her leaving and coming back, and the most recent: him going back to Hell.

The night he left, when she told him she loved him, accepted him completely, he thought his heart would burst out of his chest. Seeing his Detective's tears and pleads for him to stay, broke his heart in a thousand little pieces. However he couldn't risk the safety of his friends and the family he had here. When the problems in Hell were resolved, he came back. Doctor Linda helped him a lot after that. Chloe too. For him it was much much more that six months down there. In the end though, they managed.

Tomorrow is their six month anniversary. He got her a ring. Not an engagement ring. A promise for the future. That he'll always be by her side no matter what. Love her, protect her. Anything she needs,anything she desires. The stone was the exact color of her lovely eyes. A favor called in here and there, helped him achieve his goal.

After a few more minutes going around, he set for LUX. He had a few matters to attend to and he was needed there. He'd meet his Detective tomorrow.

*******

When Chloe came back from her shopping spree (she ended up getting a pair of short-heeled shoes, in the same color as the dress), she was exhausted. After taking a quick shower and brushing her teeth, she proceeded to hog the bed, like someone once told her.

Chloe woke up with a smile the next day. Checked if things were going well, ate breakfast, spent some time with Trixie. Then she started getting ready. Followed her skin care routine - the results were amazing, soft skin and all -, showered and shaved thoroughly. Then she dried her hair and styled it into waves. Afterwards, she did her makeup. Simple, not heavy, in light colors. Lastly she put on her dress and shoes. I do look pretty good, she thought while looking at herself one last time at the mirror. She took Lucifer's present with her, too.

One of the very few things she had left from her father were his cufflinks. She wanted to give them to him. Not even Dan knew about their existence. She had gone to a jewelry store to get something extra etched on them. She added an 'M' in the outside and a 'C' on the inside. In this way she wanted him to understand, how much he meant to her. With the 'M' they would become his own , while with the 'C' she wanted him to have a part of her with him. Will he like them though?, she wondered anxiously. To her it was something important, but could that measure up to the person who created the stars? Come on Chloe, relax. It's going to be alright. With that she went out of her house, to get to LUX.

*************

Everything was ready. Lucifer's favorite dishes were ready to be served. The candles around, check. The DJ ready to play a special song for tonight, check. Comfortable, low lighting, check. Lucifer…check.

They both gasped at the sight of the other. Lucifer was wearing a black tuxedo, with a white shirt and a red handkerchief. He looked sharp and very handsome. Chloe was wearing her new dress, looking absolutely gorgeous.

"Darling, you look exquisite," said Lucifer with adoration.

"I could say the same for you too, Lucifer", replied Chloe with a radiant smile.

"How about we sit down babe?"

"Of course, my dear."

After sitting down and getting their food, they made a toast.

" To us. May this be the first anniversary of many more to come"

" To us, love." he replied with a clink of their wine glasses.

They talked about the future, laughed about Trixie's adventures at school and when they finished their dessert they went on to exchange their gifts.

"Lucifer,I didn't buy you anything… Instead, I wanted to give you something special.These are my dad's cufflinks. I added something though...On the outside you'll see an 'M' for 'Morningstar'. On the inside,however, there is a 'C' for 'Chloe'...I wanted I'd give you a "piece" of me through this to have with you… If you don't like it, it is possible to have it changed… I just wanted to give you something that is very important to me, because you are one of the most important people in my life and… "

"Chloe, darling, I love it. In fact, you have rendered me speechless. Thank you so much, my love. ", he interrupted her giving her a genuine smile.

"Do you really like it or are you saying that just to make me happy? I mean, this isn't some of the extravagant things you're used to and I don't know… Maybe you would like something else… ?",she asked him nervously,looking at her feet.

"Chloe, love, look at me.", Lucifer told her lifting her chin to look at her lovely eyes. "You know I don't lie, don't you? Then trust me when I say that this is the best gift I've ever received. I know just how much your dad's death hurt you and by giving me one of his belongings…You've made me so happy and grateful, my dear. So, you don't need to worry about that alright? "

" Okay ", she sighed.

"Now it's my turn," he announced opening the little, black, velvet box. Chloe gasped.

"It isn't an engagement ring. It's my promise to you. I want to promise you that I will always be by your side. Your friend, your partner, your boyfriend, whatever you desire. Protect you, cherish you, support you in everything you do. Anything. You are the light in my life and you've touched my heart in ways nobody ever has, in my long life. I want you to know I love you so much," he confessed while putting the ring on Chloe's finger.

" Oh Lucifer… I don't know what to say… Thank you, honey. I love you too, " she added hugging him.

"Dance with me? ", she asked him after a few moments.

"Anything for you, my darling. "

Chloe then signaled the DJ to put a very specific song on.

As they swayed, she whispered the lyrics to his ear.

"Do you feel my heart beating,

Do you understand

Do you feel the same

Am I only dreaming

Is this burning an eternal flame "

" Do you understand Lucifer? I love you with all my heart and I will always stand by your side, too. Always.", she whispered teary-eyed but looking straight into his eyes.

"Even if I am the Devil? Who has tortured countless souls in Hell? A monster, like many others think?"

" Even if you are the Devil,who did his job in Hell. The Devil, who has been through many things, but never gave up. The Devil who is loving, adorable, caring, good-hearted and dangerous only to those who hurt his friends and family. The Devil who is a perfect boyfriend and whom I love with all my heart. ", she replied tearfully.

" I love you too,my Detective. Let's continue dancing, love, shall we? ", he said kissing her sweetly.

And they did. The rest of the night was spent between the two of them. Lost in each other, their emotions, touches and kisses, they continued to sway on the dance floor. In their own, strange for some people, perfect for them, little world.

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

Thank you for reading!!!

#lucifer fanfiction #lucifer fandom #chloe x lucifer #lucifer #Lucifer Morningstar #fanfiction #chloe decker #Ella Lopez #deckerstar

11 notes · View notes

flowerpowell · 5 years ago

Text

Falling Again (Liam x MC)

PROLOGUE

A/N: So this is a new mini (?) series I’m working on! I still want to finish Unexpected before this comes out but I wanted to post the prologue to see how many people are interested in this.

Rating: PG (infertility mentions)

Tagging my permatag + TRR tag + Liam tag, please let me know if you want to remain tagged in the series or not because I know most people from my TRR taglist are Drake stans and might not want to read Liam series.

@walkerduchess @ao719 @texaskitten30 @lodberg @burnsoslow @jared2612 @annekebbphotography @supercoolperson0808 @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @hopefulmoonobject @akrenich @blackcatkita @desireepow-1986 @dcbbw @kingliam2019 @the-soot-sprite @thequeenofcronuts @dr-ethanjramsey @badchoicesposts @edgiestwinter ♥

Victoria unlocked her phone to check the time for the hundredth time that hour. It was almost midnight but her husband still hadn’t come.

He was late. Again.

She sighed as she locked her phone and put it back on the nightstand. There was no point in waiting, Liam could come at any hour. If the past few years of marriage taught her something, it was that Liam was a workaholic. He always worked hard but in the last two years, he became unbearable. Victoria didn’t even have time to talk to him and he was too busy to listen to her complain about it.

She was just about to give up and go to sleep when she heard him entering their bedroom. He was tiptoeing as if not to wake her up. It was dark in the room so he couldn’t see she was awake. Victoria watched him as he took off his jacket and shirt. She looked at him, at her husband who felt more like a stranger those past few months.

Too tired to shower, Liam climbed into bed, careful not to wake up his wife.

“Hey,” she greeted him and he turned to her surprised.

“You’re not asleep yet?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I was waiting for you,” she admitted.

“My meeting with the American ambassador ran late and he insisted we cover everything,” he explained, placing a kiss on her forehead. She was quiet for a few moments before speaking again.

“We had a dinner planned for today and you didn’t come... Again.” She heard him sighing deeply before answering.

“I had meetings all day. Can we not talk about it now?”

“Then when should we talk about it? Right now is the first time today I see you!”

“Victoria, I’m really tired, let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“Yeah right, tomorrow. We’re not talking tomorrow, we’re talking now!”

“Victoria!” he raised his voice slightly. “I’m tired. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” she answered. Liam turned his back to her and within seconds, fell asleep. Victoria sighed as she settled on her side of the bed and waited for the sleep to come. She could only hope the next day would be better.

~~~~

When she opened her eyes, Liam’s side was already empty.

“Good morning, love,” Liam noticed she woke up as he was putting on a shirt. His hair was still wet and Victoria figured he must have already taken a shower.

“Hey. It’s only,” she looked at her phone, “six thirty, I’m sure you don’t have meetings that early.”

“No, but I need to take care of a few things I didn’t manage to do yesterday. I’m already late.”

“But... you said we were going to talk.”

“And we will. When I get back.”

“Really?” Victoria lost her temper. “Once you get back at almost one in the morning saying you’re too tired to talk?”

“Victoria, please...”

“Please what? You don’t even have time to talk to me!”

“I’m trying to rule a country, if you can’t see!”

“Yeah, and I’m trying to have a conversation with my husband!”

He shook his head. “I don’t have time for this.We’ll talk once you calm down.”

“I am calm!” Victoria yelled and Liam raised an eyebrow. “Stop making excuses and let me just talk to you. Do you even care about me?”

“You’re ridiculous! Of course I do! You’re all I think about it! But I still have a country to rule and it’s not like our conversation can’t wait.”

“Liam!” She yelled but he was already at the door.

“We’ll talk later. Have a good day.” He left and Victoria threw a pillow after him, but it hit the door. She looked down at Chance, who was already looking at his human mom.

“You’re the only one who cares about me, you know that?” she leaned down to kiss him and he wiggled his little tail happily.

Victoria got up and walked up to her vanity. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. These past few years definitely aged her. She looked exhausted and that was exactly how she felt. Exhausted. Not exactly a perfect fairytale she was promised when she said yes.

It was also her fault, a little. She couldn’t get pregnant. Technically, everything was good with her and she shouldn’t have any problems. The doctor said she should be avoiding any stressful situations and that was why Liam started working for both of them.

She knew Liam overworked himself to take the stress off of her but it wasn’t working. It only made her more stressed. She hated what happened to her, she hated what happened to him.

Victoria opened the drawer and took a big envelope from it. She skimmed through the content of the document that was inside it again even though at that point, she already knew what was written there by heart.

“Mommy is making a good decision,” she told Chance as if to assure him. She quickly signed the document where it was needed and put it right back to the envelope.

And even though she wasn’t a coward, she was too nervous to give it to Liam personally. Although, thinking about it, he probably wouldn’t even bother to read it. She gave the envelope to her assistant to add it to the pile of mail for Liam and only after the divorce papers ended up in his study, did she sigh with relief.

I am making a good decision.

#the royal romance #the royal heir #choices #king liam #liam x mc #king liam x mc #liam rys #liam rhys #i still dont know #playchoices #trr #choices trr #trr fanfic #my fic #tw: infertility mention

109 notes · View notes

71tenseventeen · 5 years ago

Text

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-27

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26

Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, implied homophobia, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.

I literally have a team of betas at this point and I could not do this without them. Much love and so much credit to @ljummen, @visionshadows, @icosahedonist and @queen-alia for taking on different parts of this.

New update, finally, below the cut.

Things begin to feel even more settled as November progresses. Sid loves the comfort of his routines and the more established they are, the more secure he feels.

He gets a feel for Geno’s nutrition requirements and starts cooking several times a week. He fusses sometimes, always worried that Sid will push beyond his limits. But Sid knows him better now, understands why those fears are there and how to convince Geno that he’s truly okay.

He also starts spending a little more time with Vero, hanging out with her and the kids once or twice a week for what she jokingly calls parenting practice runs. It’s obviously a relief for Vero, more than anything, who is a lot closer to her due date than he is to his and he really doesn’t mind. He enjoys his time with them, even if it’s not so much practice as sitting on the floor while Estelle and Scarlett serve him pretend tea and adorn him in toy princess jewelry and pirate hats.

He and Geno get together with Flower and Vero for a quiet American Thanksgiving dinner on an off day a couple of days after the actual holiday. He’s spent enough time with them that he’s comfortable now. There’s none of the anxiety he feels when he goes to watch Geno practice, where he usually stays tucked away to himself, trying to avoid other players and staff.

Sidney doesn’t think much of it when Geno is later getting home from practice than he’d expected the next day. As captain, media and other responsibilities often pop up that keep him longer than anticipated so being late on a normal day isn’t all that unusual.

But today isn’t a normal day.

Sid has a checkup today and Geno has been adamant about being at as many appointments as possible. When his calls and texts go unanswered, Sid sets about getting himself ready, not really sure what to expect but hoping it’s just a misunderstanding.

Sid watches the clock, fidgeting nervously as he tries not to worry because this isn’t normal. Geno would never miss a doctor’s appointment without at least a text. He waits as long as he can and is just about to walk out the door when Geno finally calls.

He doesn’t offer a greeting, just says shortly, “Have to meet you there. Will be a little bit late.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine Sid. I have to go. I see you there.” The connection ends and Sid is left staring at his phone with a sinking feeling in his gut.

He can’t dwell on it now so he drives himself to the appointment, thanking any deity that will listen that his car actually started.

Geno is late, bustling in near the end of the appointment looking stressed beyond measure and not quite meeting Sid’s eyes.

In the parking lot he pauses long enough to mumble, “You tell me about appointment at home,” before he’s climbing in his car. He doesn’t pull away and Sid takes the hint, quickly getting into his own car and leading the way. Geno follows him the whole way home and it should be a comfort to Sid that Geno cares to do that but instead he’s filled with dread. He has no idea what could make Geno act this way but whatever it is can’t be good.

It isn’t until they’re finally home, walking silently into the kitchen that Geno motions towards the breakfast bar. “Sit, I get us food. We need talk.”

“I’d rather you just tell me what’s wrong,” he says, trying not to let his voice shake.

“At least sit.”

When Sid is finally perched anxiously on the edge of a barstool, Geno runs a hand through his hair before finally, finally meeting Sid’s gaze. “PR call me in to talk after practice.”

Sid swallows hard. “Okay.”

Geno sighs. “Family skate coming up. They say they think not good idea if you come.”

“Oh.” It’s not surprising and Sid can’t figure out why it’s got Geno so upset. They’d already discussed family skate and decided that it is unquestionably too risky for Sid to go. “We already decided I’m not going so it’s not a big deal.”

“Maybe.” Geno looks uncomfortable as Sid stares at him, confused, until he finally sighs again. “There more.”

“Oh.” Sid swallows.

Geno looks down at the counter. “Jen say someone in media see you at practice and ask about you. She say you Vero’s friend but she say if media notice you, ask about you then can be big problem if they realize you also at games.”

Sid’s heart sinks. “Right. So, no more practice for me then, eh?”

“PR think it’s bad idea if anyone see you at practice or games now you showing more.”

Sid looks up, startled. “Games too?”

“I’m sorry, Sid.” And he really does look it. “They say you can go but need to sit in private space, watch on TV feed.”

Sid pushes up from his seat. “There’s not much reason for me to go then, is there? I can do that at home,” he says, trying not to sound bitter.

Geno grabs his hand, pulling gently. “Am so sorry, Sid. I try hard, make them find better solution but this best they come up with.”

It’s Sid’s turn to sigh. “It’s not your fault. This is just how it has to be.”

Sid settles into his new routine of staying home pretty much all the time as a bitterly cold snap arrives in early December. He lies to Vero about the first game he misses but by the second she’s already clued in, probably by Flower. She’s due soon, decidedly short-tempered and Sidney has to talk her down from threats of arguing with management or dragging Sid bodily to the games anyway. When she offers to stay home and watch the next game with him he quickly shuts her down, not willing to let her miss out just because of his circumstances.

A new tension settles over the house. It’s subtle but palpable—Sid can feel it in the way he awkwardly wishes Geno luck before games, no longer able to say he’ll be watching from the stands. He’s careful now, not to go anywhere with Geno other than to doctor’s appointments and Geno seems on edge, like there’s something simmering just below the surface.

They still spend time together. It’s not at all unusual for Geno to bring home takeout or cook something to share as they settle in close on the couch. His hands always seem to be moving when they’re close like that—pulling Sid’s feet onto his lap and massaging the ache away or running fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, long enough now that it’s curling a little. Geno laughs when his featherlight touches tickle Sid, making him squirm. When he’s done teasing, he likes to rearrange them until he’s sitting behind Sid, wrapped around him and pulling him close. More often than not Sid drifts off like that, head resting against Geno’s warm chest while his fingers rub small patterns on his hip or belly.

But Geno is quiet now, more than he ever has been before. He’s stressed and grumbly after games and practice now, sometimes even after wins and he fights twice in three games. Sid doesn’t have any idea how to approach any of that or even if he should. The one time he tentatively starts to ask, Geno shuts him down refusing to talk about it, though he does let Sid ice his bruised cheek even if he complains quietly about it.

As pervasive as the tension becomes, their sex life doesn’t seem to suffer for it. If anything Geno seems more affectionate, holding Sid a little tighter as he kisses him senseless. His words seem sweeter as he talks quietly with the unique blend of Russian and English that he only uses when they’re moving together, close to the brink.

Even when they don’t have sex, he still cozies up behind Sid, fingers running over the swell of his belly as they banter quietly about the baby. Sid’s sure he’s never seen Geno happier than he is the night that he rests his face against Sid’s belly to talk to the baby and finally feels a kick in the form of a gentle thump on his cheek.

As nice as those moments are, they are becoming more infrequent. December brings eight away games and the longest road trip of the season which means not only is Sid staying home most of the time, now he’s alone and feeling increasingly isolated. Vero’s due date is just days away and her mother showed up to stay through the birth of the baby. Sid’s happy for her that she has the extra support but it means he can’t visit the only friend he has that knows about the baby.

By the last day of Geno’s road trip Sid is going stir crazy. When the weather forecast announces a major storm coming through the next day, Sid makes a beeline for his car. Normally he’d wait for Geno but if he’s going to get snowed in then he has to get out of the house, at least for a little while.

At first he’s not sure where to go but as soon as he nears the highway inspiration hits and he heads downtown. He may not be able to do a lot these days but he can still treat himself to some comfort food.

It’s a long way to drive for an omelet but he misses the warmth of the familiar diner, thinking fondly of the times he’d treat himself to his favorite breakfast after exams. As soon as he steps in he smiles, inhaling the enticing smells happily. It’s not too crowded and he gets a seat right away, looking over the familiar menu even though he already knows exactly what he’s going to order.

He’s just placed his order when he hears the familiar voice ask “Sid?” and he looks up to find Nate, one of his buddies from school grinning down at him.

“Nate, hey!” Sid returns the grin awkwardly.

“I’m surprised you have time to sit and eat, what with all the times you’ve been ‘too busy’ to hang out.” His look is pointed but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

Sid sighs, realizing he’s been caught and pushes his chair back just enough.

Nate’s eyes widen immediately. “Whoa. No wonder.”

Sid sinks back down, cheeks heating up but he smiles despite himself. “Yeah. No wonder, eh?”

Nate nods towards the empty chair across from Sid. “You here alone? Can I sit?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sid agrees, even though he’s sure he’s about to get bombarded with questions.

Nate surprises him though, giving him a long look after he sits before finally nodding with a smile. “Congratulations, Sid.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He shrugs but it’s nice not to have yet another person treating this like a crisis.

“How far gone are you?”

“Due in March.”

“Wow. So do you like just have night classes now or…?”

They settle into the conversation, only stopping briefly for Nate to order his food and then again when the food arrives to devour a third of their plates before they pick the conversation back up. Sid’s both surprised and relieved that, though they do talk about it a little, eventually the topic drifts away from the pregnancy. Nate takes the opportunity to catch Sid up on a little bit of gossip and chatter excitedly about his favorite classes and complain about his roommate’s annoying antics.

His pregnancy doesn’t come up again until their plates have been cleared away. “So are you still in the same apartment? I could drop by sometime.”

“Oh. No, actually I’m in Sewickley for now.”

Sid immediately regrets the admission when Nate’s eyes widen comically. “Damn, you got a rich uncle there or something?”

Sid knows it’s a joke but he drops his eyes anyway as he clears his throat. “Nah. Just staying with a friend.”

Nate watches him carefully for a moment. “Baby daddy?”

Sid shrugs and forces a soft laugh, knowing he’s already said too much. Luckily, Nate doesn’t press the issue.

They make their way out of the diner and slog down the block through the cold mist that’s started to fall, parting ways at the corner only after Nate makes him promise to keep in touch. Sid finds himself smiling on the way back to his car, despite the abysmal weather. He’d almost forgotten what it was like, to just talk to a friend about everything and nothing and while he can’t bring himself to regret the pregnancy, he misses the simplicity of his old life. Still, he feels lighter than he has in a long time and vows to himself that he’ll make the effort to stay in touch with Nate.

Despite the increasingly rainy, frigid weather, Sid’s good mood sticks with him almost the entire way home—right up until his car breaks down.

Part 28

#Take My Hand #my fic #mpreg #part 27 #Yep #this is new

108 notes · View notes