#all of this is happening on TOP of a twenty-four hour panic attack :)))))))))))

[hauntedfalcon]

wow this week sure has been a great reminder that I am only ever, like, a handful of bad sensory experiences away from complete mental collapse

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 21 | S.R

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A/N - this picks up moments before the end of the last chapter. This one is a trip, please tread lightly, it got away from me.

Summary - Luke races to save Spencer from drowning. Whilst you await Spencer’s fate, you and Luke grow tenuously closer.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - CPR, paramedics, hospitals, suicide attempt, swearing, brief panic attack, slight cheating, making out, some kind of messy coma fever dream, heavy mentions of past rape, sexual assault in the form of a dream, handjob, hint at oral (m receiving).

WC - 6.5k

Chapter 21 - Night Riders Lament

The moment Luke slowed the Escalade to a stop on the gravel driveway, you were flinging yourself out of the vehicle. Luke barely shut off the engine before he did the same. 

He followed in your footsteps, running behind you up the hill towards a large Victorian style home. There were various lights coming from multiple windows in the house. 

The front door was gratefully unlocked as you didn’t have your keys on you. Luke followed you inside where you stopped in the entrance way, honing your ears on any little sound that might indicate Spencer’s location. 

“He could be at the stable, he often drinks down there.” You whispered.

Luke tried to not to think of the implications of Spencer drinking again after all these years of sobriety. He’d failed to find out much more information about his ex’s condition on the drive. 

You’d told him he was off his meds and dissociating into personalities you believed to be people from his past. If he was drinking too it really wasn’t much of a surprise this had happened. 

He heard footsteps on the floor above but not loud enough to come from a human. A moment later a red and grey floppy eared dog who he assumed to still be quite young, appeared at the top of the narrow staircase. 

His icy blue eyes landed on you before bouncing down the stairs towards you. He threw himself at you, nuzzling against you and whining slightly.

“It’s okay, Copper, what is it?” You pet his head. “Where’s Spencer?” 

The dog - Copper - moved away from you and back towards the stairs. You and Luke exchanged a look, wondering if you were supposed to follow. 

Before you could take a step, Luke put his arm in front of you, drawing his firearm with his other hand. 

“Let me go first.” He croaked, stepping forward. “We have no idea what we’re walking into.” 

You swallowed at the inference of his words and the fact he thought he might need his weapon. You nodded stiffly and let Luke take a few more steps as Copper started up the stairs. 

Luke followed and you tentatively crept behind them. Your heart was beating so rampantly against your chest, terrified over what you might find upstairs. Knowing Spencer it could literally be anything, you were scared to see the extent of his full psychosis. 

He could have really hurt himself, he’d been alone for the best part of twenty four hours and you had no idea what he could have done in that time. But you were about to find out. 

Luke continued following Copper into the master bedroom. It was pretty much how you left it aside for the near empty whiskey bottle on the bedside table and Spencer’s clothes strewn about the floor.

The folding wooden doors to the ensuite were closed but Copper came to stand in front of them, staring impatiently at them and whimpering. Luke looked back at you over his shoulder, his hand gripped around the gun noticeably shaking. 

“I think you should wait out here.” He told you sternly but you stubbornly shook your head.

“No way, I’m coming in with you. I can handle it.” You spat.

Luke’s jaw tightened and he swallowed thickly but this wasn’t the time to stand around arguing. He sucked in a trembling breath before turning back to the door. 

“Spencer?” He braced his free hand against the wood. “Spencer, can you hear me? Are you in there?”

There was no response. 

“Spencer, I’m going to open this door if you don’t respond.” He tried again, but still there was no response.

Luke drew a really large breath into his lungs through his nose before he shoved the folding doors, watching them concertina in the middle and pushed through the opening created on the right hand side. 

You were hot on his heels as he breached the room, his hand faltering around the weapon and it suddenly fell to the ground in a loud crash. You gasped loudly at the sight of Spencer in the tub, completely submerged in the water. You froze completely, unable to breathe let alone move.

Thankfully Luke was able to remain level headed and sprung to action after the initial shock. He ran further into the room, quickly reaching both hands into the scalding tub water and hooking them under Spencer’s armpits, dragging the led weight of his unconscious body up and out of the water. 

Spencer’s head lolled to his chest, eyes closed and if Luke wasn’t mistaken, unbreathing. He fought to pull the man fully out of the tub, water splashing everywhere while you and Copper stood stock still and watched in horror. 

Luke manoeuvred him to the floor, trying to ignore the sight of his ex’s naked body before him. He laid him gently on his back on the linoleum, kneeling over him and placing his cheek near Spencer’s face. As suspected, he wasn’t breathing. 

Moving his hand rapidly to Spencer’s neck and pressing two fingers against his pulse point he felt a very faint, very thready pulse.

“He’s not breathing but he’s alive.” Luke straddled Spencer’s hips, glancing up at you. “Call 911 now!” 

You blinked at him but remained unmoved while Luke began CPR in the absence of respiratory activity. He placed the heel of palm on the centre of Spencer’s chest, ignoring how prominent his bones were and how much weight he’d lost, then pressed his other palm to the back of his first hand and started compressions.

He counted off the compressions needing a steady rate of thrusts to kick start Spencer’s heart. After the first thirty he moved his hands from his chest to tilt his head back gently and pinched his nose. He lowered his head, disregarding the utter craziness of this situation, as he sealed his lips over Spencer’s to administer mouth to mouth.

He gave two rescue breaths before sitting back and continuing with the chest compressions. As he did so, he looked at you, seeing you still hadn’t moved. The colour had drained your face and your whole body was quaking.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

“Y/N, this is not the time to freeze.” Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. “Call 911 now! He will die if you just stand there.” Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. “I mean it, Y/N, call the damn paramedics!”

Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

Finally you snapped out of your terror and reached into your pocket for your phone. Luke continued to count in his head while he listened to you on the phone. When he reached thirty he resorted back to mouth to mouth, then returned to chest compressions.

“Come on, man, come on.” He muttered, sweat gathering at his brow. “Come on Spence, please. Take a breath, just take a damn breath!” 

Tilting his head back again and breathing twice into Spencer’s mouth just as you hung up the phone, Spencer suddenly spluttered, his whole body jerking beneath Luke.  

You both froze as Spencer’s eyes fluttered, opening momentarily and staring right at Luke before he parted his lips and water spurted from his mouth. 

Luke quickly moved off of him, helping him into the recovery position while Spencer continued to spit up water and a little bile. Luke rubbed his back while you continued to stare at the coughing, shaking man. 

“Spence, it's okay. Get it out.” Luke cooed.

But no sooner had expelled himself, his eyes closed again and his whole body stilled. But he did continue to breathe, albeit extremely shallowly. Luke motioned for you to toss him a towel which you did and Luke used it to cover Spencer’s lower half. Water dribbled from his open mouth onto the floor, his breathing ragged and infrequent. 

Luke stayed crouched by his side, stroking his back for another few minutes, paying close attention to his breathing before suddenly it stopped again. Luke cursed in his mother tongue, pushing Spencer onto his back again and resuming his earlier attempts at CPR. 

You didn’t know how long you stood there watching in fear as Luke gave him chest compressions and mouth to mouth, before the sound of footsteps on the staircase alerted you to the arrival of EMT’s. 

They practically pushed you and Copper aside, one of them dropping to the floor next to Luke, a canister of oxygen wheeled behind him. He placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder as he robotically continued pumping Spencer’s chest with his hands, seemingly not noticing the arrival. 

“Sir,” the second EMT took hold of Luke’s shoulder. “Sir, it's okay, you can stop now.” 

The EMT had to physically drag Luke off of Spencer, while the other used a stethoscope to listen to his breathing. After a few moments he pulled away and looked up at the second paramedic. 

“Very little respiratory activity. He’ll need intubation.” For now he placed a mask over Spencer’s lips which were starting to turn blue. “Can you clear the room please? We’ll be taking him to Canyon Vista Medical, but for now we need space, we need to replenish his O2 and stabilise him.” 

A trembling Luke found your side and without thinking, wrapped his arms around you. You let him lead you from the room and towards the bed where the two of you sat down, Copper joining you soon after. 

Tears silently rolled down your cheeks as the EMT’s worked on getting him on a stretcher, keeping his oxygen mask in place. Once they started leading his unconscious form out of the room, Luke sprung back up to his feet. 

The two of you followed close behind while he was rapidly manoeuvred into the back of the ambulance, the speed in which everything was happening only furthered to prove his dire state. The EMT’s didn’t say another word to either of you and were soon peeling away, red and blue’s flashing and siren blaring. 

Without your knowledge you were back in Luke’s Escalade while he slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped after the ambulance as fast he could, the utter terror running through his veins. 

But he had to stay focused for now, at least until he made it to the hospital. There would be time to dwell on all of this later. For now he had to believe Spencer Reid could survive this. 

***

Spencer was taken straight to the ICU where he was hooked up to a ventilator via an endotracheal tube in his mouth. You and Luke had been informed that he’d gone into cardiac arrest in the ambulance but they had managed to revive him. 

He was taken for chest x-rays to assess the level of acute respiratory distress. He was being closely monitored for potential multiple organ failure, pneumonia and central nervous system infections. 

He was still unconscious and as such it was impossible to know the extent of brain injury due to lack of oxygen. They couldn’t fairly assess if he was suffering from hypoxic or anoxic brain injury until he was awake and could be given a series of tests to determine if he’d permanently damaged his brain. 

He was receptive to early testing, the doctor had shone a torch in his eyes and noted his pupils restricted to the intrusion. Ice cold water was applied to his ears which caused his eyes to move rapidly beneath his lids. The doctor was hopeful that these were good signs of brain activity but he certainly wasn’t out of the woods.

The fluid had been drained from his lungs but it didn’t mean he couldn’t still contract pneumonia. Prolonged use of the ventilator also came with its own risks of lung injury. The fact that he drowned in hot water removed the risk of hypothermia but it did mean his body’s need for oxygen was increased and that the oxygen deprivation could have been rapidly lethal and lead to permanent brain damage. 

He was being tested around the clock, closely monitored as he was at risk of innumerable issues and complications. His blood had been drawn on intake and the doctor informed you and Luke that his blood alcohol level had been four times the legal limit and they assumed it had led to him falling unconscious in the tub and submerging himself. 

You and Luke didn’t say as much but you both knew this hadn’t been some dumb accident. This was without a doubt in both of your minds, an attempt to end his life. 

The two of you exchanged barely two words for hours while you sat in the waiting room. Luke brought you a tepid, bitter coffee from the vending machine while you nursed it on autopilot while he excused himself to make some phone calls.

Firstly he called Grant and filled him in on everything, managing to stem his tears and remain stoic while he explained to his boyfriend how he found his ex close to death and was now waiting to see if he’d regain consciousness. 

It was when he called Emily that Luke finally succumbed to the terror and the heartache he’d bottled up since finding Spencer in the tub and thinking he was dead. 

He’d sobbed down the phone while he recited all the gory details to his boss, barely able to hold himself upright and having to use a nearby wall to brace himself against. 

Emily didn’t get every word he said due to the rampant crying and the fact that Luke seemed to flick back and forth between English and Spanish while he spoke.

“Jesus Em it was bad, it was so bad. I thought he estaba muerto. I thought I would never vería sus ojos otra vez. He wasn’t breathing, he barely had a pulse. Que pasa si lo pierdo? He was just like that, so sin vida. Ay dios mio, I would have…he could have fallecido. I thought he…oh god Em, I thought he was gone. I thought he was gonna die en frente de mí! I don’t know how I even held it together when all I wanted to do was quebrarme. And he still might no regresar. I still may never see his eyes again, hear su voz. Ay dios mio, AY DIOS MIO. Podría haber muerto, que hubiera hecho? Fuck, fuck Em, I’m atacado…having a ataque de pánico.”

“Okay, okay Alvez I need you to breathe. Just stop and take a breath in, count to five and release it again. Can you do that for me?” Her voice carried down the phone. 

“Si. Yes.” Luke closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the wall and doing as Emily said. 

At her guidance he repeated this over and over until she deemed Luke to be calm enough, his breathing slowly returning to something close to normal.

“Okay, are you good?”

“Yes.” Luke swallowed, turning and leaning back against the wall.

“Start again from the beginning. But I’m going to need you to stick to one language. English or Spanish is fine but I’m not as adept at switching between the two as you are, so please, pick one.” 

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose, he honestly hadn’t even realised he’d been speaking Spanish. He took a deep breath and wiped his tears before telling Emily everything in English only. 

By the time he returned to you in the waiting room he’d cried all of his tears and washed his face to try and hide that fact. 

Your face was obscured by your hood the way it had been since you arrived at the hospital, not able to take any chances on someone recognising you. Luke slid into the chair at your side. 

“Do I need to go? I assume your team is coming?” You sighed. 

“They’re on a case, they got called out right after I headed down to New Mexico, so no they aren’t. Also I don’t really think Spencer would want them to witness him in this state, whether he was conscious of them being here or not.” Luke ran his hand over his rough facial hair. 

“I should never have left him. This is my fault.” You cried. 

Luke placed his strong hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at him through watery eyes hidden away behind your oversized hood. 

“None of this is your fault.” He shook his head. “No one could have prevented this, Y/N. Unfortunately Spencer is severely mentally ill. A combination of coming off his meds and heavy drinking only exacerbated the situation. This was sadly an inevitable outcome.” 

“What happens if he doesn’t wake up Luke? What happens if Spencer dies?” Your eyes were begging him for answers he just didn’t have and you knew it too. 

“Honestly?” He squeezed your shoulder. “I have no idea. I really wish I had some words to make this better, but I don’t. We just have to wait and see and go from there.” 

You nodded knowing he was right but hating it all the same. 

***

The momentary bliss of those first few seconds of consciousness swaddled you like a warm blanket and allowed you a reprieve from the previous day's events. The strong, firm body you found yourself cradled against breathed almost in symmetry with you. 

Broad arms encircled you, your head nuzzled against a hard chest and being lulled by the rhythmic beating of a heart. Legs were entwined together keeping you close. And for those joyous few seconds you forgot all about Spencer in the hospital and it didn’t even cross your mind that the body you were wrapped up in wasn’t his.

So when you shifted your head upwards and captured the sleepy lips of your bed companion in a kiss, it didn’t occur to you that it was incredibly wrong. Apparently it didn’t occur to him either as he returned the kiss with vigour, tongue working its way into your mouth whilst pulling you on top of him. 

He was already hard beneath you as you rolled your hips against his whilst hungrily exploring each other's mouth with fervour. It didn’t register to you that his lips were unfamiliar, that the body you were grinding against was much more muscular than you were used to. 

But then your brain started to kick into gear, pulling itself from its sleep-addled state and you remembered Spencer in the tub, Luke giving him CPR, the EMT’s, the hospital.

Oh my fucking god!

You suddenly broke the kiss, sitting back and staring down at a sleepy Luke Alvez under you. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at you as his own brain ebbed into consciousness. 

“Y/N?” He yelped slightly as you rolled off of him quickly. “What the fuck?”

“I…I, uh, I think I thought you were Spencer.” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Mierda,” he spat, pulling the sheet over his body mostly to cover the fact he was fully erect as if you hadn’t felt it. “I didn’t realise what I was doing. Jeez, I haven't kissed a woman in a really long time.” 

“We should, uh, pretend that never happened and get back to the hospital.” You were rolling out of bed, self conscious at the fact you only wore an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. 

Glancing back at Luke he only seemed to be wearing boxers and the clothes on the floor only further proved that. You didn’t remember leaving the hospital and getting back to the ranch. You didn’t know why you and Luke were in bed together, wearing next to nothing.

“You were exhausted.” Luke spoke, seemingly reading your mind. “I helped you up to bed and you asked me to stay with you. Honestly I didn’t mind the company. I, uh, did have more clothes on when I fell asleep but I do run hot so I guess I took them off in the night.” 

“We didn’t…?” You turned back to him, eyebrow cocked. 

“No!” Luke frowned with a huff. “No offence but you’re not exactly my type.”

“Right, my lack of a penis.” You nodded with a slight quip of your lip. 

“Exactly.” Luke couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not as equal opportunist as Spencer, if you know what I mean.” 

“You’re gay, I get it. I’m not offended.” You shook your head in amusement. “I’m gonna shower and hope to wash this fucking bizarre morning off of me.” 

“Good idea.” Luke nodded stiffly. 

Without another word you padded past him towards the bathroom and closed the folding doors behind you. You froze once inside, staring at the still full tub. You could still see him there, submerged under the water, not breathing. You could see his lifeless form as Luke laid him down on the floor and tried to breathe life back into him. 

The lips that had to administer mouth to mouth to Spencer were the same as the ones you’d fervently attacked. You’d kissed Luke while Spencer was fighting for his life. Tears crept to your eyes and you were momentarily paralysed by the weight of it all. But you couldn’t crumble, Spencer needed you. 

You bypassed the claw foot tub, unable to bring yourself to drain the water and simply stepped inside the shower and closed your eyes in the hopes of dispelling the images that ran amok in your mind.

***

The doctors started to try and wean Spencer off of the ventilator to try and assess if he was able to breath on his own. He’d had no further fluid build up in his lungs and they were hopeful that he would be able to breath without the use of the tube and the machine.

He was having tests done multiple times a day to measure his oxygen and carbon dioxide levels, his blood pressure, heart rate and temperature were all regularly checked. He had numerous blood tests to monitor his kidney function as well as other body functions. 

Luke had spent several hours in Spencer’s room, talking to the unconscious man but you couldn’t bring yourself to see him like this. 

By the end of the day the doctor had successfully removed him from the ventilator and Spencer was breathing unaided. They had started by explaining all the steps to you and Luke although most of it was lost on you. 

The pressure of the ventilator was gradually reduced whilst nurses moved Spencer into a half sitting position. His airway was suctioned before the ventilator was disconnected and replaced by a simple oxygen mask to aid his breathing but not control it. 

The doctor monitored his breathing for any anxiety or laboured breaths. As soon as he was happy that Spencer was able to breath without the machine, extubation was carried out, the endotracheal tube removed from his throat and the mask placed over his mouth and nose. 

He would need continuous monitoring to ensure he carried on breathing on his own but the doctor said it wasn’t unheard of for patients to return to a ventilator if needed. They also started to wean him off the medication keeping him sedated but you and Luke were both warned that it could still take some time for him to awaken.

You were both made aware that when he did wake up he would likely be restless and confused and if he was to get agitated he may need resedating but they hoped it wouldn’t come to that. None one mentioned the fact it was still a possibility he might not wake up at all. 

You stayed all day before returning to the ranch in the late evening. Luke ordered take out as all the two of you had eaten was snacks from the hospital vending machine. You both only picked at the Thai food, neither feeling particularly hungry.

After dinner Luke called Grant and then Emily to fill them in on Spencer’s progress before the two of you called it a night, sleeping in separate rooms this time to avoid another potentially awkward morning.

***

Spencer Reid didn’t believe in heaven and hell and perhaps that was why he’d found himself in some kind of limbo. 

Am I dead? Must be dead. What else could this be?

You really went and done it this time, Reid. You wanted to kill yourself and it looks like you succeeded. 

Well, this ought to be interesting. 

Everything seemed just mildly out of focus, hazy around the edges. It was a little like being tipsy, not quite able to get his vision to cooperate yet his mind was sharp unlike when he drank. 

Out of nowhere an incredibly bright light flashed before his left eye. He squinted before it appeared again in his right but then disappeared entirely. 

He walked with seemingly no purpose, through one blurry room to the next without knowing where he was going or why. His feet moved of their own volition, like they had their own destination in mind. 

Is this all there is out there? Am I simply going to wander the abyss for all eternity now? At least I’m alone, at least they aren’t here. 

A shiver passed up his spine and he looked around quickly, trying to work out where the sudden iciness that encompassed him came from. Moments later he felt it again, confined to his head…his ears? 

No bother, it soon passed and he continued on his way. 

Must have worked. The lack of oxygen must have killed enough of my brain cells that they’re all finally gone. I might be able to have some peace. 

But as he had this thought, a voice filtered into his ears distant and hard to understand but he certainly recognised it and not as one of the ghosts who had lived inside of his head. 

“Amor mio. Siento tanto esto que te pasó, pero necesito que abras tus ojos ya? Hazlo por mí. Por favor, te suplico, abre tus ojos.”

Luke? Luke, is that you? Luke I don’t understand, I can’t… Never had a problem understanding Spanish before, why can’t I understand him?

Luke, say it in English, what are you trying to say? Must have destroyed the part of my brain where my ability to retain language was stored. Amor mio…my love? Urgh, what are you trying to tell me?

Think, Spencer, think. Something about being sorry? Siento tanto esto que te pasó…I’m sorry for what happened to you? What happened to me? I don’t get it. 

Ojos…eyes? You want me to open my eyes? My eyes are open…I don’t understand, Luke? Pero necesito que abras tus ojos ya…But I need you to open your eyes? This doesn’t make any sense…

Hazlo por mí. Por favor, te suplico, abre tus ojos…Do it do me. Please I beg you, open your eyes? Am I losing my mind or has my Spanish gotten that rusty? I must be mistranslating, that doesn’t make any sense. 

His feet continued their aimless wandering, Luke’s voice fading out of his ears. He pushed his way through a door at the end of a long corridor and stepped inside to be greeted by a table full of people bathed in a soft glow, while they enjoyed dinner together.

Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Tara Lewis, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi and Matt Simmons sat around the table, laughing and clinking wine glasses together, not noticing their company. 

A smile blossomed on Spencer’s lips as he took in his old team, minus Luke. He walked towards the six of them, excited to join them in their dinner. 

Gosh, I’ve missed them, never realised how much until right now. It's so good to see them all again, can’t wait to…

As he neared the table the six figures he’d known and missed started to shift and morph before his very eyes. Soon enough he wasn’t looking at the six members of the BAU, instead he was looking upon the six demons who lived inside his head. 

There they were, sharing a meal together while Spencer stood in horror as the monsters of his past broke bread together and sipped wine like they were old friends catching up after a long time apart.

Tobias Hankel sipped from his wine glass. Cat Adams and Diane Turner laughed together side by side. William Reid picked up a bread roll and tore it into pieces before he started eating it. Benjamin Merva cut into a rare steak with an overly sharp knife.

And at the head of the table, clinking his own knife against his glass and capturing the attention of the others, was the source of Spencer’s biggest trauma. The broad, tattooed latino got to his feet, his prison scrubs rolled up to his elbows and all eyes were now on him. 

He smiled at his rapt audience, the same sick smile he used to give Spencer when he was forcing him to his knees and opening his mouth for the assault. Large hands clapped together, the very ones which had held Spencer in place while he was coerced into taking the other mens cocks in his mouth. 

“I’m so glad we could all be here today,” he spoke in that menacing tone Spencer knew too well. “To celebrate the man of the hour, the reason we were all brought together.” 

Suddenly all eyes turned to Spencer who was standing dumbly off to the side, on the outside looking in. He swallowed thickly at the six sets of eyes who seemed to be hungrily glaring at him. 

“Without you, querido, none of us would be here.” 

Please don’t call me that, please god don’t call me that, Spencer spoke but no words seemed to come out of his mouth. Yet, everyone seemed to hear him.

“What’s the matter, querido, I thought you liked it?” The man pouted at him.

I don’t, I don’t! Not when you say it! 

“He prefers it when you call him, cariño.” 

Another voice entered the arena, one in which Spencer didn’t mind the term of endearment from. He spun around to see Luke on the edge of the room, hands in his pockets and chewing awkwardly on his lip.

Luke, Luke you came! Luke, please make them go away. 

Again he didn’t make a sound yet Luke seemed to hear him loud and clear.

“You know I’d do anything for you cariño, but you never let me help you. I tried, I tried so hard. But you didn’t want my help.”

I want it now, please? Please! Make them go away.

He felt a strong set of arms around him from behind, he knew exactly who they belonged to. He struggled against them but he was too weak, his back being pinned against a firm chest while tattooed arms encompassed his waist, holding him steady.

“He looks a little like me, no?” The man breathed in his ear. “Is that why you wouldn’t let him touch you after what I did? Did he remind you of me?”

Y-yes, Spencer sniffled. It’s true Luke, I’m sorry. You reminded me of him, you reminded me of my rapist. 

“Ay cariño,” Luke huffed, still on the other side of the room and not stepping in to help him fight off his attacker. “Estabas tan vulnerable, que nunca pudiste aprender a cómo cuidarte. No es raro que él se haya aprovechado de ti.”

What does that mean? I don’t understand, I can’t seem to remember any Spanish, Luke you have to help me!

The arms tightened around him, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He desperately tried to catch it but the pressure around him inhibited him from getting a solid breath into his suddenly aching lungs. 

“He said you are so fragile, that you never did learn to take care of yourself. He said it’s no wonder I took advantage of you.”

No, no that’s not true. Luke, tell him, you didn’t say that! Tell him! 

Despite the fact Spencer was still not making any noise aside from trying to catch his breath, Luke shrugged. Spencer looked over at the table where the other five ghosts sat, none of them paying any attention to the three of them. They were focused back on their meals, clearly unperturbed by what was going on. 

The arms started to loosen their hold and Spencer gasped furiously for a breath to refill his near empty lungs. His breathing was thick and fast, rampant and erratic.

“It's to be expected when patients first come off the ventilator. He might struggle to breath on his own for a few minutes but the mask will help ensure he has enough oxygen and I can assure you Mister Alvez we’re monitoring him extremely closely.” 

Spencer frowned at the new voice entering his ears, looking around but not seeing any other faces. The man behind him had his hands on Spencer’s hips and no matter what he did, Spencer couldn’t get his breathing to return to normal.

Luke, what is happening? Why can’t I breathe properly? What is he saying about ventilators and oxygen? What have I missed? 

The hands gripped his hips tightly through his slacks and Spencer tried to ignore them in lieu of breathing. He was huffing and puffing but he couldn’t control it. 

What is happening to me? 

No one responded. 

Something was suddenly on his throat or more accurately, being removed from his throat. He felt it scratch and tickle as he clawed its way out of his mouth. He coughed violently out of nowhere, shuddering at the sensation and dribbling down his chin a little. 

He swallowed thickly, feeling empty in such a new and strange way but he didn’t understand what it was. What was that feeling? 

The sounds of laughter from the dinner table distracted him momentarily while one hand snuck around the front of his body. Spencer’s back stiffened as the thick fingers toyed at the waistband of his slacks.

Please, please don’t do this, he begged, still fighting for breath. “Please, I don’t want it. I don’t want it!” 

The hand was sliding inside his pants and Spencer whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked at Luke, begging for help.

“Is he crying?” Luke’s voice came again but this time his lips didn’t move.

“It’s perfectly normal in comatose patients, Mister Alvez.” The other voice spoke again. 

Comatose? What is going on? Someone tell me what’s…oh shit! A hand wrapped around his shaft. Don’t do that, don't touch me!

“Don’t fight it cariño, just pretend it's me.” The Luke that was in front of him was speaking now and not the phantom, distant Luke voice.

Please, please I don’t want this! I just want to…oh…

Spencer threw his head back, eyes closing as a wave of pleasure erupted in his chest. He was still struggling to catch his breath but right then he didn’t care. The large, calloused hand in his pants felt divine even if he hated to admit it. 

He locked eyes with Luke while the man continued to stroke him, his knees buckling, but the man behind him held him upright.

“Feels good, huh?” Luke smirked at him

Y-yes, fucking goddamnit yes it does.

“I like him like this; so subservient.” The man whispered against Spencer’s ear, breath hot on his skin. 

Fuck…fuck…feels so good. Why does it have to feel so good? 

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!” 

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

Two other bodies appeared beside Luke now, the other two men responsible for his prison assaults. Spencer squirmed and whined at their words, fighting against the hands once more.

I’m not enjoying it. Stop it, please. I don’t want it. 

“Spencer, baby, if you weren’t enjoying it, why is your cock so hard?” Luke offered him a sad smile. 

It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop! 

The tears were hot as they scored down his face. He desperately fought against the hands that wouldn’t let up, touching him in places he didn’t want to be touched. He still couldn’t breath, everything was growing hazier. 

He vaguely registered the sounds of chairs scraping across the floor and moments later the five other ghosts came into view. 

William and Merva helped to remove Spencer’s shirt while he whined and tried to push them away to no avail. Cat dropped to her knees in front of him, wasting no time in taking him in her mouth while the man’s hand remained around the base of his shaft. 

Tobias and Diane started pawing at his now bare chest, Diane sucking marks on his neck while he felt a needle at the crook of his arm.

No, please, please you have to stop. STOP! I don’t want any of this, Luke, make them stop! 

Spencer screamed and screamed until his lungs were raw and throbbing, but no one seemed to hear his pleas. He fought against the bodies now swarmed around him, thrashing and writhing but it didn’t do any good. No one was listening, no one heard his cries. 

Stop, stop, stop! You have to stop, I can’t do this. Can’t do this. Death was supposed to be a reprieve, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! You weren’t supposed to follow me to the other side. Luke, Luke! Please! Please you have to do something, Luke! Luke, Luke, Luke…

With a start, Spencer’s eyes shot open while he gasped for a breath to fill his battered lungs. Suddenly everything stilled. There were no hands upon him, no voices, no torrent of unwanted emotions. 

In the whiteness of the room he registered a faint beeping sound but he didn’t acknowledge it. Across the vividly lit space, he locked eyes with those dark brown orbs he’d loved for so many years and saw all the sorrow they held as they stared back at him.

He felt something over his face, obscuring his mouth and nose, something in the crook of his arm, something else jammed in a place much lower down his body that it most certainly shouldn’t be. A frantic beeping grew louder as he slowly ebbed out of that hazy unconscious. His heart? His heart was beating furiously. 

But through it all, he only had attention on that one man whom he was sure was not a ghost this time. As a small yet melancholy smile played on his lips, Spencer knew that Luke Alvez was just as much here as he himself was.

Wherever the hell here was. 

Heaven? Hell? Limbo again? Some kind of other in between where up is down and left is right? Got to be, can’t be real. If I was alive there is no way Luke Alvez would be here in front of me and…

Luke started towards him, eyes misted with tears. He moved closer to Spencer and without thinking he grabbed the younger man’s hand in his, needing to feel him, needing to ground himself. 

He blinked back tears whilst an extremely confused, extremely oxygen deprived Spencer continued to stare blankly at him. Luke lifted his hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across his knuckles. 

“Oh cariño, am I glad to see you.” 

@katrina0-0 @kalulakunundrum @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling @pleasantwitchgarden @djsjjsjsjsjsnsnsns @bringitonhomejohnb @chineray1234

[crow-rodriguez]

Chapter Eleven: Home Doesn't Feel Like Home

*trigger warning: panic attack*

A few days later, I was sitting at my parents house. I had been home and taking more pills than I did before, wanting to forget the things that the camp did to me. Sleep had become impossible since I was having nightmares again, not just of the events from camp but also from what happened to Kehlani and my accident. All these memories were swirling around my mind twenty-four seven, the only way I could stop the swirling thoughts was my pills which I had become dependent on. Suddenly, my phone rang and I answered it, seeing that it was RaeLynn, “hey, Bunny,” I said as I smiled, feeling relieved to hear her voice after what happened.

She looked so worried when she spoke, “Val! I heard about what happened, are you ok!?” she asked, her voice was breaking as she spoke to me.

“I’m fine, I’m home and E has been making sure I eat, sleep, and whatnot,” I told her, lying through my teeth since I was in no way whatsoever fine. I was breaking slowly from the trauma. 

“Raymond and I have cut our trip short, we’re gettin’ onto a plane home in an hour. We’re at the airport right now,” she told me which made my heart break with guilt, she was cutting her trip short because of me.

I sighed, trying to pay attention to what was happening since the pills made me so tired, “you didn’t have to do that, Mi Conejita,” I told her, “you should enjoy the rest of your trip,” 

“It’s fine, we’re only three days ahead of schedule,” she told me, “we’re boarding now, I’ll text you when we get off the plane. Love you,” she said then hung up before I could say anything. 

I put my phone down and laid in my bed, thinking about how in a month and a half I was starting my Junior year of high school with all of my friends. I should be happy, after all so many opportunities were coming up for my friends. RaeLynn would be graduating in June of 2019, Drake would be graduating with RaeLynn since he was a senior, Rosa was still doing her modeling and she was ki;lling it. Everyone I loved would be by my side, going through that year with me, I was home and I was safe. But why didn’t home feel like home anymore?

A month and a half later, I was digging through my closet and trying to find my Converses. I was almost ready for school and Danyol was going to be arriving to pick me up in 10 minutes, yet there I was, looking for the Converse high tops that I had bought just a week ago. I finally found them right as I heard the horn signal that Danyol and I had come up with, so I grabbed my shoe bag and ran outside with my shoes. I got into his nice BMW X3 that his brother had given him, “hey, fucker,” I said as I buckled in and put my shoes on.

“You are just chronically late, V,” he mumbles as he starts driving. 

I laughed a bit and took a breath then looked at him, “am I still a lesbian if I’m trans?” I asked, hinting to him that I had started realizing I was transgender.

“I don’t think so? Ask Raymond?” he asked as I took in the comforting scent of his car, the scent of incense and lavender wafted into my sense as I smiled.

I shrugged, “I don’t know… do you think RaeLynn would still want to be with me if I was a guy?” I asked as I looked at my phone.

“Ask her, not me. And isn’t she bi?” he asked me, “we’re getting Starbucks, right?” 

I nodded, “duh, I’ll venmo you for my drink,” I told him as I sent a snap to RaeLynn of Danyol and I. 

“You’ve been using social media a lot more lately, why?” Danyol asked, seeming to have noticed a change in my behavior. He sounded slightly concerned, probably because he knew how badly I’d been sleeping and struggling since we got home from camp. The events of camp had caused us to bond quite a bit, who knew that trauma would cause two people to bond like that?

I smiled, “I just have gotten more into it lately, it’s kind of fun,” I told him, trying to hide that social media had become an escape from the reality both at home and in my head. 

Danyol nodded and pulled into the Starbucks drive through, “Blueberry Cheesecake frappuccino, right?” he asked me as he took his card out. 

I nodded, “yes, that drink has been my favorite drink lately,” I told him.

“Got it,” he said then pulled to the ordering area, “can I get a Trenta Blueberry Cheesecake Frappuccino and a Grande Iced Caramel Macchiato please?” he asked.

“You said a Trenta Blueberry Cheesecake Frappuccino and a Grande Caramel Macchiato?” the barista confirmed.

“Yes, please,” Danyol said.

“Pull to the window,” the barista said.

Danyol pulled up to the window and handed his card over, handing me my drink then put his drink into the cupholder, “spill this shit in my car and you’re paying for the cleaning, Rodriguez,” he told me as he took his card back.

“Have a nice day,” the barista said.

“You too, Ma’am,” Danyol said as he started driving again, “how can you possibly drink that much caffeine?” he asked me.

I looked at him, “if I don’t drink all of this, I’m going to be falling asleep in class,” I told him, “my sleep schedule is so fucked right now,”

“Nightmares?” he asked me, his voice becoming more gentle as he drove towards our school.

I nodded, “yeah, they won’t stop. I’m scared to fall asleep because they’re so vivid. I’ve tried asking my parents for therapy but my mom says that only poor people need therapy,” I sighed, rolling my eyes.

Danyol pulled over and looked at me like I had seventeen heads, “Valeria says what now?” he asked as he burst out laughing, “your mother needs therapy,” 

I laughed as I nodded, “I know, Dannii. Trust me, I know,” I told him as I put my hair up into a ponytail. Danyol then started looking at me differently, smiling softly as he spoke, “you know… your hair looks really nice,” he told me as he leaned back in his seat and started driving again. He didn’t even give me a chance to respond as he parked in our school’s parking lot. 

We started walking into school while I was sipping my drink when raeLynn came over to me, wearing a beautiful new dress and Isabella was with her. Isabella and I weren’t exactly friends but we were civil with each other, “Bunny, hey!” I smiled as I wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple. 

“Val!” RaeLynn smiled as she looked at me, “Ambrosia is helping’ me decorate my Senior Parking' spot,” she said, making the same feeling of jealousy rush over me as I was still incredibly jealous of the way RaeLynn and Ambrosia bonded. 

“Nice, do you need my help at all?” I asked her as I walked with her, my heart sank a bit as she shook her head.

“No, I’ve got enough help, Val,” she told me as the group and I all walked through the halls when a girl gave up to us, she looked like she was a sophomore. She had shoulder length blonde hair with blue streaks towards the front of her hair and green eyes with some pretty thick eyeliner and some black lipstick with black jeans and a graphic T-shirt for what I assumed was a band since I had the word “Ghost” on it with a skeleton pope.

“Hi, I’m new. I just moved here. I’m a bit turned around, where’s Mrs. Burnwitts’ room?” she asked as she showed us her schedule. 

I looked at her schedule, having to lean down a bit since even though I was already slouching I stood at 5’7 and at my full height I was 5’9, she was about 5’2 so I had a bit of trouble looking at her schedule, “I had Mrs. Burnwitts last year, she’s so nice. If you follow me, I’ll show you,” I told her, smiling a bit. “Oh my goodness, thank you!”  she said as she followed me while I waved goodbye to my group, “I’m Bambi Rossi, I’m 16. nice to meet you,” she told me as she and I walked. “I’m Valentina Juiletta Rodriguez, I’m also se=ixteen,” I said as I looked at her, “you’ve got a wicked style, Bambi,” I told her, looking her up and down. “Where are you from?” 

She looked at me, “a little bit of everywhere, my dad’s in the military so we moved whenever he gets deployed to a new area,” she told me, “and thanks. I’m also Italian,” she added.

I nodded, smiling a bit, “nice. What’s with the dead pope on your T-shirt?” I asked, blinking as she looked at me like I was insane.

“You don’t know Ghost!?  Incolta, mia cara,”  she looked at me, “this is Papa Emeritus from the best band of all time, Ghost,” she told me, “they recently came out with a new studio album, Meliora. It’s so fucking good!” she sighed as she smiled. 

I nodded, “my mom doesn’t really let me listen to most kinds of music,” I said as I walked with her. 

“Neither does my mom. She’s a bit of a control freak, but my dad’s pretty chill,”  Bambi told me, “so where you from, Val?’ she asked me.

“I was born and raised in Rothwell, I’ve lived here my whole life and I’m really hoping that eventually I’ll be able to blow this popsicle stand,” I told her as I looked around a bit, “you should come sit with my friends and I at lunch,” I smiled as I successfully led her to Mrs. Burwitts’ room.

“Thank you so much, I totally will!” She said as we parted ways.

I started walking to the elevator, having permission to taek it upstair since my accident. I hummed as I walked, looking around while I continued to sip my frappucino. I got onto the elevator and leaned against the wall while I looked at my phone, feeling pretty calm until the elevator suddenly stalled and It shook a bit, causing an unbelievable amount of terror hit me like a tidal wave. I found myself on my knees, trembling as my hands gripped the roots of my hair, my breath was shallow and fast. It felt like the elevator was shrinking around. I hadn’t even noticed that I was on the second floor with the elevator doors being stuck open because of my frappucino cup that I had dropped because of my hands had become too shaky and unsteady to hold it. 

“Val?” A familiar voice asked, the voice was muffled by the ringing that had formed in my ears. The voice sounded safe but at the same time I felt myself going deeper into my panic, “Valentina?” the voice said again as I felt a hand on my shoulder. I grabbed her wrist and shoved her away roughly. 

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!!” I screamed, not even realizing what was happening until I looked in the direction I shoved her which was when I gasped as I saw RaeLynn sitting on the floor against the locker. I then realized that I had just shoved my girlfriend away from me hard enough to make her fall back against the locker, Feeling the terror mix with guilt as I saw the worried and sad look in her eyes, “I-i’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that…” I said, my breath was still shallow and my head was starting to feel light. My vision began to blur as I tried to get up but my legs were so shaky, it was like my legs had become Jell-O. I was acute by Danyol who was n the phone with someone, with Ethan.

“Yeah, she does not look good. She’s pale and she’s hyperventilating. I think she’s having a panic attack what do I do?” He asked, “I don’t know what happned… Take her to the nurse, you’’l be here soon? Alright, thanks, E,” he said as he hung up before he picked me up bridal style and started carrying me to the nurses office. I barely understood what was going on, my brain was so fuzzy and everything was spinning. He set me on one of the beds and kneeled down to my level, holding my shoulders as he spoke to me, “Val, look at me. Focus on my voice,” he told me as he grabbed my hand and put it over his heart, “focus on my breathing and steady yours,” 

I listened to him, closing my eyes as I tried to match his breathing while I nodded. It took several moments, but I eventually felt my breathing become steady and calm. I opened my eyes, noticing that my vision had unblurred and the ringing had subsided, “i-is RaeLynn ok?” I asked as I looked at him.

“She’s fine. What happened? What triggered you?” Danyol asked, his hands still on my shoulder. 

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “The elevator... it just stalled, and suddenly it felt like I was falling again. Falling like when Edmundo pushed me,” I stammered, my voice trembling with fear and anxiety.

Danyol nodded, “that must’ve been scary. Ethan is on his way, RaeLynn is getting your stuff for you,” He told me as he gave my shoulders a comforting squeeze. 

I nodded, my gaze dropping to the floor as I felt the lingering effects of the panic attack and the onset of withdrawal symptoms. My hands trembled, and I felt unsteady, the combination making me feel even more disconnected and out of control. 

About thirty minutes, I was in Ethan’s car on the way home. It was quiet and awkward, I felt like I had to fill the silence but I wasn’t sure how until Ethan spoke first, “I’ve scheduled you a therapy session with my therapist for Friday,” he told me, “you clearly have some trauma from everything you’ve been through, which is super understandable but you’re being sent into a panic attack by the feeling of an elevator stalling and you’re not sleeping. You haven’t eaten in almost a week, I’m worried about you,” he explained. 

I looked at him, “but Mami wouldn’t ever allow that. She’ll be so mad if she finds out about this<” I said.

“Then we don’t tell her,” He said, looking at me with a very concerned look in his eyes.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Road to Healing

Gif is not mine.

Summary: The one where you and Wanda travel around the country while grieving together. / Inspired by road trip-themed movies.

Read Complete work on AO3 too.

Warnings> Explicit language (cursing) , mentions of death, grieve and panic attacks. Mainly fluff and sad.

Words:  4.299K (Oneshot)

When Thanos won, you didn't have time to grieve. Immediately on the battlefield, you were responsible for helping to heal the wounded. And you were exhausted when it was over.

And then S.H.I.E.L.D. was triggered, and you knew they would take Vision if they found him. You thought Wanda wouldn't want that. And you ignored the intense pain you felt at the thought of her, and repeated to yourself that you wouldn't want that either. So you used Tony's technology to bring Vision's body back to the Avengers compound. And then you told them that Thanos had destroyed him along with the jewel, and that's what they wrote in their reports.

When you finally returned home, you only slept after you had organized a memorial for him. You didn't ask your colleagues to participate. The remaining avengers just seemed empty. So you left them alone.

Your hands trembled when you touched the knob of Wanda's room. You were looking for a picture of Vis. You found it eventually. When you left the room, your shirt was wet with your tears.

You thought Vision would like a view of the sea. So you left his body in a black wooden coffin, and buried it on the edge of the hill a few meters from the exit of the complex. You figured that Vision wasn't religious, so you just used the 3D printer to create a little iron plate, and stuck it against the ground. 

You could not sleep that night. And the next. When you finally did, your panic attacks started. But the emergency calls started coming in, and you knew you had no time for grief. The world needed you now.

You learned to deal with the panic, but the nightmares continued. So you accepted more assignments, until you were too exhausted to dream. And then you got used to it. 

And like the snap of a finger, five years passed. 

When you defeated Thanos, you fell to your knees. You couldn't find Natasha. And then you couldn't breathe. You realize what was happening, you knew they were back. But you can't go through this again. Because the world needs you again. And then you calm down, and you stand up. And then you are walking.

Steve doesn't come back. You think you hear Bucky crying in his room. But you don't say anything, because he doesn't like to talk about it. 

You take Wanda to the tomb of Vision two days before Tony's funeral. She sobs against you as you hug her, your own tears preventing you from seeing your surroundings clearly. You haven't left her side since.

After Tony's funeral is over, you destroy the items in your room with a bat. When you fall to the ground, Wanda sits beside you quietly, and holds your hand. She doesn't mind you shouting Nat's name along with your sobs.

- I can't stay here anymore. - You tell her the next night, while you are in your room. - I can't breathe in this place. - You confess with tears on your face. - I feel like I'm going to die. 

Wanda intertwines your hands. 

- Let's leave then.

You let out a long sigh, trying to control your tears. And then you nod.

Your mood improves considerably once you are out of the compound. You don't think about Nat, or Tony, or Steve, because if you do, your hands start to shake. But you think about healing. You think about being there for your best friend. 

And then you decide to live. And you hold both of Wanda's hands when you tell her that you are going to travel. Travel to all the places she hasn't visited in the United States.

You want to remember that there are still things to live for. You want Nat to be proud of you.

When Wanda nods in agreement, you smile, and hug her. And then you get a truck, and you let Wanda hold the map.

It is hot and humid, and you drum your fingers against the steering wheel, humming softly the pop song playing on the radio.

Wanda fell asleep against the passenger seat some time ago, and it has been a few hours since you left the small motel where you were staying after leaving the Avengers compound.

You are hungry, so you stop the car at the first dinner you find. The loss of movement of the vehicle awakens Wanda.

- Hey sleepyhead. - You joke as you take out your key, and look for your wallet in the glove compartment. - Let's go get something to eat.

You walk to the diner, which is practically empty. Wanda doesn't seem to be fully awake yet, but smiles at you when she catches you looking. You sit down on opposite sides of the table.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon, and pancakes, please. - You tell the waitress, and Wanda gives you a curious look. She orders cereal and chocolate waffles.

- Why are we having breakfast for dinner? - she asks with a smile.

You shrug, laughing lightly.

- It's always time for pancakes.

Wanda looks at you for a moment, and you look back. And then you are having a blinking contest. The waitress gives you a judgmental look when she interrupts the game, but you and Wanda smile and thank her for the food.

You finish eating first, and are distracted by one of the crossword puzzle magazines that the restaurant leaves under the tables. 

- Hey, Wands, help me with this one. - You say slightly distracted as you run your pencil across the paper. - "One word. Destined for belonging. Companionship. Devotion" Do you have any idea what it is?

- Soulmates. - Wanda says before chewing another piece of waffle. You let out a contented exclamation when the word fits, and smile at her, who just winks at you, smiling back.

- Does this taste good? - you ask, watching her eat. She nods, pushing her plate toward you. Wanda hands you her own fork to taste the waffles. They are very good, but you don't want to eat any more.

You can't finish your crossword puzzle, and you return the magazine to the table compartment before you leave the restaurant.

And then it is Wanda's turn to drive. You sit in the passenger seat, and turn up the radio as you get back on the road. You wish you could stay awake at night to keep Wanda company, but it only takes four songs for you to fall asleep. 

It is morning when you arrive in Virgina. And it is cold enough for you to wrap Wanda in a scarf when she refuses to warm up properly. She just laughs with flushed cheeks when you let her go. You rent a room with two beds, and after you shower, Wanda goes into the bathroom.

You are browsing through the channels when she comes back with a towel wrapped in her hair, she smells good even from a distance.

- Do you want to go out to eat, or do you want to order a pizza? - you ask.

- Pizza. - She replies as she lies down on the bed.

You need to go out and look for a pay phone, because both of your cell phones are off and in the bottom of one of the boxes you are carrying in the truck.

- Shall we watch a movie? - she asks when you come back into the room. 

- Comedy or horror? - You counter with a question as you kick off your shoes. Wanda bites her lip thoughtfully.

- Both.

You smile as you hang your coat on the door.

You have been watching "Scary Movie" for twenty minutes when the pizza arrives. Wanda pauses the movie while you stand up and pay the delivery man.

She uses her powers to drag the coffee table into the space between the two beds, and you place the pizza on top of the wood and sit cross-legged on Wanda's bed.

Eventually, you finish the pizza and wipe your hands with napkins. And then Wanda lets the movie sequence continue, and you remain in her bed with the excuse that it was cold. You fall asleep at the end of the second film, but you wake up in the early morning hours with Wanda's hand against your waist. You don't think you should get used to the feeling, so you get up and go back to your bed.

Wanda cries when you arrive in Virginia Beach. You know it is the view of the sea, which reminded her of the tomb of Vision. You stand silently beside her as you entwine your hands. Wanda doesn't let go until you get back to the car.

It's cold, and you shouldn't have ice cream. But you do it anyway. You and Wanda stop at a drive-thru, and have your milkshakes while you drive toward Tennessee.

You let her have the rest of your ice cream even though she's had many tastes already.

On one of the roads, you stop the car on the roadside. You try to normalize your breathing. 

- I'm here. - She says next to you in a gentle voice, as she lets you squeeze her hand over your lap. - You are safe. 

You exchange directions for a while. 

- So you have never been to Disney? - You ask between one lighthouse and another, somewhere in North Carolina.

Wanda denies it with a smile and a nod. She has only one hand on the wheel, and her hair is shining in the sun. You scold yourself for looking.

- Since we can't afford Disney, we should pick something cheap to do - You tell her while looking at one of the tour guides you found at the motel.

- I don't mind just driving around. - she says. You bite the smile from your lips.

- Yeah, me neither.

It takes two weeks for you to talk about Natasha. You have changed routes many times now, and then you sit in the back of the truck, and look at the stars. And Wanda asks you about your nightmares. You say that you dream that Nat is falling, and that you can never reach her. You fall asleep together in the back of the car, many blankets wrapped around you.

When you wake up holding each other, neither of you really minds.

You are near Chicago when you drag Wanda to an arcade in the late afternoon. 

You and Wanda try out all the toys that are allowed for you. It's fun, and loud. And you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt.

And then you eat hamburger and fries with soda sitting in a parking lot. You push Wanda's shoulder lightly with yours when she steals one of your fries.

You are in a clothing bazaar when you see Wanda's breasts for the first time. In between trying on various strange outfits for fun, the fifth or sixth time you return to the changing room, Wanda pulls you into the cabin with her. And she smiles so much that you hardly notice them. 

When you get back to the motel, you bathe first. You touch yourself in the shower without really thinking about anything, but when you cum, the image of her breasts are in your mind.

In Michigan you bet on a race. And Wanda absolutely beats you. She has flushed cheeks and a sweaty face when you catch up with her. You think it's unfair that she looks so beautiful.

You watch the sunset, and Wanda thinks she has seen an owl. 

Your body begins to betray you when Wanda hugs you and you tremble. You decide that it is because you have been a long time without touching another person intimately and being touched in the same way. 

You joke with Wanda that you need to find a one-night stand, and she doesn't smile when she agrees with you.

As you drive towards Kansas, a waitress flirts with you. Wanda gets back in the car saying that she is tired, and you don't understand why kissing the waitress against a wall while she has one hand down your pants doesn't satisfy you.

You talk about death in Springfield. You are sharing popcorn while wrapped in a blanket sitting on the grass a few feet from the truck. 

- You can't die. - She declares suddenly and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

- Wanda...?

- I won't... I won't survive.

You turned around quickly, and held up both your hands. 

- I wouldn't like that. - You tell her. You know it's what she doesn't want to hear, but you need her to understand that. - I would never want your life to depend on mine. 

Wanda sobs, lowering her head.

- I wish you would move on. - You nod to reaffirm her statement, your own face wet with tears. - I know... people expect me to say that I wish you would miss me, or not replace me. But I don't feel that way. - You confess. - I never want to be the reason for your unhappiness. If I die, and well, at some point I will, I want you to go on living. And enjoying it.

Wanda shakes her head, and jumps on your neck. She cries against your collarbone, but it's okay. You think she understood what you told her.

When she calms down, you are silent for several moments. 

- What will you do if I die? - she asks, looking at you. You keep your gaze on the stars as you shrug;

- I would die too.

Wanda bites back a smile on her lips, and hugs you. 

Bucky calls. You talk for five minutes. And then you text him that when he is ready you will be there to listen to him. You send a picture of you and Wanda, and when he calls again, you talk for five hours.

It takes four weeks since you left the compound to realize that you are in love with Wanda.

You are in a motel somewhere in Nebraska, and she is combing her hair in front of the television, a sitcom playing. And then she laughs, and you realize.

The realization doesn't surprise you though. You take a deep breath, and tell her you're going to get some air before you leave. 

You lean back on the balcony, trying to push the guilt away. You can hardly believe it happened so fast and so intensely.

You decide that everything is too recent, and that it would be disrespectful to Wanda's grief, so you guard yourself.

You fight for the first time in Colorado. You are being stubborn and rude, and Wanda is being distant and judgmental. And then you are arguing about the next destination. And then you stop the car on the roadside, and Wanda says she's not going anywhere with you. And you are silent for forty minutes before you two start to cry. 

You put your face against the steering wheel, and Wanda lifts her legs onto the seat and buries her face in her own arms. 

It takes a long moment for you to calm down. And then you wipe away your tears and Wanda looks away into the window, and you drive away again.

You are staying in Utah for a few days. It is the first time you ask for separate rooms. You want to cry again, but you just take the key. 

And then you can't sleep after four hours as you stare at the ceiling. 

You get up, and go out onto the veranda. And your feet guide you to the next door. But before you can knock, Wanda opens it, and jumps into you, hugging you tight. Your body instantly relaxes, and you cry as you both apologize, and promise never to fight again.

You get drunk in Las Vegas. Really drunk. You don't remember ever laughing as hard as you did that night. You think Wanda used her powers to win the games, but you can't prove it. And then you're back in the truck, stumbling and laughing, and she has a look on her face that makes your stomach turn with nervousness.

But you swallow your nervousness with a smile, and accept the bottle of vodka she offers you. And then you are in a karaoke bar, singing at the top of your lungs for two hours into the early morning hours. When the owner kicks you out, Wanda holds your hand as you both run around town. 

Back at the motel, you are laughing about something you can't remember, and then you fall into bed together, and instantly fall asleep.

When you wake up, you don't care about your headache.

You get the same tattoo in Las Vegas. Wanda holds and squeezes your hand while you are doing it, and you do the same to her. The tattoo artist thought you were married, and neither of you corrects him.

And then you take her to all the tourist spots, and you have ice cream and hot dogs. And Wanda's hand is warm against yours all the way.

On your last day in LA, you visit a nightclub. It is noisy, and lively, and has lots of alcohol. You find it hard to breathe when you see Wanda in a party dress, but she smiles and you follow her.

And then you dance and dance and dance, and you think about nothing. And then you're drunk again, and the girl at the bar is flirting with you. And Wanda's no longer smiling when she gets back on the dance floor. 

You think the girl at the bar has asked for your number, but you're looking at Wanda dancing. And she moves her body with sensuality, and then there is a man behind her. Wanda kisses him while looking at you through the lights. 

You take a shot of whiskey before leaving in a rage.

And when Wanda wakes up in the morning, she says she doesn't remember anything.

You think that you can no longer hide what you feel when you are on the road, heading for Oregon. But you just keep mumbling the song that plays on the radio.

Wanda bites her lip and has a lost look on her face, but when you ask her what's wrong, she looks away quickly as she says she was just distracted. 

You are entertained by the music again.

You get used to your feelings in Portland. The routine helps you keep them quiet and buried deep in your chest. 

You and Wanda begin to spend more time in inns, and camping, than on the road, but you still travel around the country. 

And then Wanda talks about Vision for the first time. How important he had been, how much she missed him. You listen, and she asks about Nat. And you say that it is exactly the same way. 

Neither of you cries anymore at the mention of their names.

It doesn't take long before the world needs you again. Sam calls. Stephen calls. You and Wanda throw your cell phones off a cliff, while toasting a lemonade.

- We are terrible superheroes, aren't we? - you ask looking at the horizon.

- The worst. - She replies before pouring her drink into her mouth.

You get your numbers back the same day by going to an electronics store.

And then you have to go back to New York.

Four hours down the road, and you both stop for a bite to eat in Cleveland, at a diner very similar to the one at your first stop.

Wanda walks ahead of you, hugging her own sweatshirt as she feels the late afternoon chill. You resist the urge to hug her.

- I'll have the waffles with chocolate and cereal. - You ask the waitress. Wanda stares at the menu for a few more seconds, biting her lower lip before speaking.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon with pancakes. - She asks right away.

You are silent for a moment, exchanging glances and quick smiles. And then the waitress returns with your plates.

- Are you ready to save the world again, Wandy? - you ask with a light irony in your voice before tasting your ceral.

Wanda smiles.

- Of course, of course. - She answers with humor. But her expression slowly falls, as if she is remembering something. You look at her with curiosity and concern.

- Are you all right?

- I just... - She begins. And then she straightens her posture, and diverts her eyes from yours. - What happens next? - You frown uncomprehendingly. Wanda looks unsure. - After we finish the job. This ends too?

You swallow dryly, feeling embarrassed and nervous. But you do your best to avoid showing it.

- Do you want it to end? - You ask.

- No. - She confesses as she looks into your eyes.- I'd like us to continue together.

- I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.  - You assure her with a smile. And then you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling anxious. - Don't you... don't you wish you had a fixed place to stay?

Wanda blinks in confusion, looking surprised at your question.

- I just... I love the road and all. Mostly because you're with me. - You say, and don't notice her blush at the last sentence. - But I'd like to have a house. Especially now that we're going back to work. I wouldn't mind living in New York.

- Are you inviting me to move in with you? - Wanda asks with a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment, and you feel your face heat up.

- Yes, I ... I'd like that. - You say, and seeing Wanda's surprised expression, you hasten to add. - But I understand if you just want the road! That's fine, I'll stand by you too!

Wanda reaches your hand quickly over the table, and she has a huge smile on her lips.

- I would love to live with you.

- Oh. - You sigh ruefully, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your back. - Cool.

- Cool. - Wanda repeats with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye.

And then you go back to eating in silence.

You are in the passenger seat while Wanda hums a song along to the noise of the radio. It is dark and she is waiting for the first motel she can find to park. And you look at her, looking so good, and comfortable, and happy. And your brain is screaming how much you love her in an endless loop, while your heart threatens to explode in your chest.

So you think you'd better face the landscape because you're getting out of breath. But then Wanda is parking the car on the roadside, and you think maybe she's going to pee, but then she doesn't come out. You turn and find her gripping the steering wheel with both hands as she looks ahead.

- Hey, what happened? - you ask worriedly. Wanda closes her eyes.

- I read your mind.

The confession shocks you immediately. 

- W-what? - You retort with a trembling voice.

Wanda opens her eyes, and lets go of the steering wheel. And she has a tender expression to calm you down.

- Hey, it's okay, I...

- No.

You mumble breathlessly, holding back tears, as you quickly unbuckle your seat belt and get out of the car.

You think you finally blew it. Wanda knew, and this was the end. 

Leaning against the car, you hugged your arms as you tried to calm your breathing with your eyes closed. You were startled when Wanda touched your shoulders, not even having heard her get out of the car.

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. - You cried when she hugged you. Your body was shaking. - I tried to avoid it. I'm sorry.

- Stop saying that. - She asked softly, letting her hands caress your back to calm you down. - You didn't do anything wrong. - She tries to say it, but you hold her tight, afraid she'll be gone at any moment. - Hey, look at me.

Wanda asks a few more times before you let go, trying to control your tears. Only when you look at her do you realize that she too has a crying face.

- I don't want to lose you. - You whimper. - I'll control myself, I can send them away. And everything will go back to the way it was before.

Wanda denies it with her head, raising her hands to your face. You think she's going to say you both can't do this anymore, and your stomach flips.

- I love you. - She confesses, looking up at you. - I love you. - She repeats as she wipes your tears with her fingers. You're too shocked to react. - I love you so much.

And then Wanda kisses you. And you stumble with fright, but the car behind you won't let you move away from her body. And then your eyes close, and you surrender. A long sigh escapes your lips as you feel Wanda's tongue on yours.

And you kiss until you are breathless. And then your body is warm, trembling, and Wanda kisses you again, and again, as she presses you against the car. 

And then you don't want to be dressed anymore, as Wanda lets her hands run all over you. 

You don't separate your mouths as you fall into the back seat, Wanda on top moaning into your mouth. 

The glass of the car is fogged as your hand slips on the window, trembling at Wanda's intimate touch, and delighting in the sounds she makes when you kiss her in all the right places.

You are happy. Fucking delighted. And you didn't want to keep driving, not unless it was to a house that was going to be yours and Wanda's. But Stephen and Sam were calling, saying that you were taking too long. Then you drove back to New York, and this time, Wanda's hand was entwined in yours.

[honeytae]

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests or not, but I was hoping I could request something along the lines of where you’re in love with your best friend, taehyung, but he doesn’t know and he’s getting married soon. you don’t tell him how you feel until the night of his wedding when you’re a bit tipsy from drinking your feelings away. you can decide the ending! thank you in advance if you end up writing this! hope you’re doing well and staying safe. Xx

hi darling! i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write. i couldn’t get it to a point where i was satisfied with it for a really long time, i still don’t feel that good about it honestly but hopefully it’s okay for you!!! i tried to make it angsty (yikes) so hopefully it’s not horrible lmao

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

genre: angst

word count: 1.6k

warnings: um so much heartbreak, oc is a little (very) in denial about the situation and comes off a little toxic tbh, requited love but nothing they can do about it now, mentions of tae going into a panic attack

You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the ‘congratulations to the happy couple,’ nor the Mr. and Mrs. Kim sign practically floating over their heads. You couldn’t handle the copious bouquets and all the preparations that went into this.

And you felt like a complete asshole about it.

Which is precisely why you decided to prematurely exit the event, doing yourself and everyone else a favor by leaving for the night to go sulk in your hotel by your lonesome.

The elevator ride up to your floor was miserable, your own battles within your mind coupled with the fact that your floor was the top one, making the ride excruciatingly long on top of everything else.

Rustling with the hotel key in your bag seemed to take forever as well, finally barging into your half unpacked space with a sigh. You quickly shut the door behind you, hoping you’d been able to sneak away from the hotel lobby without any guests noticing.

Shuffling further into the room, you sat on the edge of the king bed in the center of the room, placing your head in your hands at the mere prospect of this weekend.

Taehyung was getting married. Kim Taehyung, your best friend, the one person you’d been pining for since middle school, would be legally bound to someone else in less than twenty four hours.

Maybe you just shouldn’t have come. Despite sending red flags to Tae, you couldn’t think of a better solution than fleeing at this exact moment. Why did you think you could handle this?

Two knocks against the locked door had your head raising from its resting place, cursing under your breath at someone coming after you.

You didn’t feel well. That would be your excuse.

“Hey, you okay?” Immediately upon opening the door, Taehyung spoke the question out into the air, dark eyebrows knit in concern and kind eyes imploring yours for an answer.

“Hi. I’m fine, just a little tired, Tae.” You pressed your lips together in a hopefully believable smile, the man frowning before nodding at you.

“Me too. Can I come in?” He asked, the question completely innocent however making your heart rate a bit faster at the what if. What if things had gone differently? What if it was still a possibility for things to escalate between you two?

Cut it out. He’s about to be a married man.

You raised your eyebrows at him for a moment, then stepped back to allow him in, putting all your concentration on shutting the wood for a moment as you took a steadying breath.

“What about your party?” You wondered aloud, the man humming as he took a seat on your fully made bed.

“I’m tired of the parties. They’re exhausting.” He chuckled, covering his face with his hands as he reclined back on your bed.

Your heart skipped another beat at the vision, his tight pants leaving little to the imagination and buttons from his dress shirt stretched to new limits with his strained position. Diverting your eyes, you walked over to the desk chair in the corner of your room, reaching for a water bottle out of your mini fridge. Get a fucking grip.

Tossing one over to the bed beside Taehyung, you sat down in the plush seat, grateful that the man didn’t seem to notice your distance from him as you glanced out the window.

Until….

“Are you really okay? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

At his sudden words, you froze, gripping your water a bit tighter as you brought your eyes back to his face. He was closer now than before, having scooted to the edge of your bed to lean toward you, eyes showing concern for you as you shuffled in your seat.

Taehyung was never one to beat around the bush, and at times like this, you really wish he would just brush some things under the rug as easy as you could.

“I’m good, Tae. Just have a lot going on, I guess. I’m sorry I made you feel like that.” You said, hoping to clear the air and dismiss the topic as soon as you possibly could. The man’s stare wasn’t helping your state any.

“No apologies. Just wanted to check in on you.” He sighed, seemingly disappointed with your lack of response before a hideous painting across the room caught his eye.

“What the fuck is that?” He griped, making you chuckle as he sat up to lean toward the art piece, squinting with his lip curled in amusement.

“It’s not so bad.” You shrugged, smirking when he turned back to you in bewilderment. Realizing you were teasing him, his eyes went back to normal size, a smile meeting his own lips at the return of your familiar banter.

“How can you sleep in a room with that shit? I feel like asking for a refund.” He shook his head, making you laugh before taking a swig from your water.

“Somehow I manage.” You replied, twisting the cap back on the bottle with a sigh.

It’s times like these that you feel as though nothing is wrong. Times like these that transport you back to periods of your life when Taehyung was just a call away, and you thought maybe, just maybe, you two had a chance. But that was over now. Those days were no more.

Because Taehyung informing you about a blind date then turned into him in a full blown relationship, a serious one at that, and soon enough they were taking big steps such as meeting the parents, moving in together, and yes, getting engaged.

Your friends had been just as shocked as you were, pitying you with deep sympathetic looks over Taehyungs shoulder as you hugged him in confused congratulations. It had all happened so fast...how did you manage to lose him forever?

Waking up the next day, you felt a particular heaviness on your chest. It was the day before the wedding, the rehearsal dinner turned into an entire day of partying for their guests. A celebratory day, if anything.

But waking up and getting all dolled up for this occasion was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, today or ever. You had always thought that you’d have much more of a starring role in Kim Taehyung’s life. Shaking your head to dismiss those kinds of thoughts, you cursed as you left your hotel room, wondering how the hell you’d be getting through this day.

Four martinis. Four martinis was how you’d be getting through today. The bartender had become one of your closest acquaintances over the past few hours, eyeballing you silently as he poured you yet another cocktail, your demands obvious that you were not drinking out of celebration.

Sitting at the bar, you contemplated everything. From the time you’d met Tae, you had been so sure that you two completed each other. Were you that naive? And fuck, why are you still thinking about this now? It’s over. You and Tae will never be.

Nearly jumping off your stool at a hand suddenly clapping your back, you shifted your gaze over to the arm belonging to Jungkook, one of Taehyung’s youngest yet wisest friends.

“You’re sulking.” He said plainly, dark eyes tracing over your faded features, briefly examining the drink in your hand before shooting the bartender a knowing look.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” You sighed, nearly breaking into a sob when his hand laid over yours, fingers fitting between your own in a comforting gesture. With one glance at the man, you gained all the information you didn’t want.

He knew.

You wondered how long he’d known. Jungkook, being the quiet and relatively introverted person he was, was an observer. He knew everything about everyone it seemed, by not speaking to them at all. He noticed everything.

You just hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes started blinking rapidly, and that he’d instead just go back into the party without another word.

“Neither should you.” He replied to you, his tone holding nothing but concern as he tried to catch your eyes.

You just couldn’t hold it in.

“Well maybe if I wasn’t in love with him I’d be having a better time.” You mumbled, leaning your head down on your hands, elbows pressed to the tops of your thighs, sad and tired as Jungkook froze beside you.

Unbeknownst to you, a concerned Taehyung had also come to find you, stumbling upon that very scene as Jungkook tried to console you.

Meeting eyes with his older friend, Jungkook’s mouth gaped open for a moment, opening and closing like a fish out of water as you cluelessly rambled under your breath about how stupid you were to ever let yourself come here.

With a shaky exhale, Taehyung silently began to put it all together. The way you’d been working constantly lately, picking up every shift you could to decline his repeated attempts at getting together with you, the way you’d ran off last night and brushed it off as you being too tired. It was all adding up.

You were struggling with this as much as he was. Maybe more.

But what Taehyung could do about this years ago was no longer an option, his hands shaking at his sides as he spun on his heel and walked out of the lobby. He could briefly hear Jungkook call for him but ignored it, breathing heavily as he rounded one of the hallways leading to the restrooms.

Unshed tears misted over his eyes as he hugged a corner of the wall, feeling rather unsteady as he leaned his forehead against the cool surface. The burning pain in his chest had him sinking down to the floor in an instant, sobs wracking his shoulders with heightening emotions rising in his throat.

You’d finally given him the green light. And it was too fucking late.

[phoenixyfriend]

Re; Ahsoka and Quinlan being the same age, now I'm picturing Ahsoka, Quinlan, and Rex eventually ending up in a weird sorta thruple where Quinlan comes in and out of the relationship but the door is kinda always open for him? And Rex spends a lot of mornings eyeing the tangle of orange and brown skin on the other side of the bed like he has no idea how he ended up here but he's (mostly) okay with that tbh

Context: Commander Buir in chronological order

YES okay so this is wild to me that people are invested in this but like half the time-travel fics with Ahsoka in the same age-group as Quinlan have me wondering if I should ship them. Let me just. Ho shit.

So, okay, I've explored a lot of possible dynamics but there's something really engaging about how Quinlan, trained as a Shadow before the Sith came back, could react to a War Padawan. Ahsoka isn't really infiltration material yet, she's very much a frontline fighter, but she's got a lot more experience with a kind of consistent dark atmosphere that most Jedi don't. They get exposed to plenty of dark stuff, sure, but not the kind of all-encompassing "this is my life for the last two years" thing that is usually reserved for the long-term field agents like Shadows and Watchmen.

The War Padawans, for all that they were supposed to be just normal Jedi Padawans, were living in the kind of consistently negative environment that's normally experienced by those Knighted Sentinels.

So Ahsoka, while still generally pretty young in these AUs, is a very odd kind of person to be around, because she's spunky and vivacious and snippy and affectionate and snarky and knows how to break every bone in your body from harrowing experience as the only thing standing between death and thousands of brothers.

And Quinlan, I imagine, really likes that about her. She gets it, and she's still an energetic and loving and trying to do her best to be a good person despite everything. He gravitates towards her and she... well, she's not blind. She can tell he's interested. And she's not upset about that.

ANYWAY, ONTO REX

So, Rex is... technically twelve. He hasn't exactly got a whole lot of experience with romance. He is also, up until the point of time-travel, legal property of the Senate and the Jedi Order, which means that Ahsoka, or at least her community, owns him. He was indoctrinated to serve her and that community. She also outranks him, for all that she usually lets him take the lead in the field due to experience. He's older than her physically and maturity-wise, but she's also had a grow-up-faster-than-you-should adolescence, and she has superpowers.

What I'm saying is, the power dynamic is fucked up.

(Unironically I spent hours last night realizing that it balances out a lot more than C*dywan does, which I'm censoring because by god do I not want discourse on this post. I like both ships, and don't want to argue about what's the most problematic. It's Star Wars. The only unproblematic ships are Bail/Breha and Owen/Beru.)

Here's the thing, though, because the main thing people seem to argue here is the age/maturity difference as a problem area:

The age difference in actual time is four years, which is smaller than the two main ships of the franchise (Han/Leia and Padme/Anakin, to be clear). The age difference in maturity is ??? We'll say that the clones started aging normally after they hit twenty, so the age difference in maturity is six years... which is still normal for SW ships.

(This is why I don't have any issues with the ship in a post-O66 context, once they've had a few years to move past the traumas and whatnot. The age stuff all evens out with time, they're a good team, and neither was grooming the other. It's not objectively any more problematic than most SW ships at that point, and I'm okay with that. They deserve to be happy if they want.)

But they get yanked away from all that structure of who owns what, who reports where, who has which rank, who's legally a person in the eyes of the Republic when they end up on Dagobah. Once they've registered when they are, the only remaining complications are:

He grew up in a cultlike environment and was indoctrinated to serve her (but has been replacing that indoctrination with genuine respect and affection for her as a person because they've worked together for two years).

She has superpowers (contextually not a big problem: we see several Force-Sensitive/Non-Sensitive ships that don't consider those powers a complicating element)

He's several years younger than her (canonically less of an issue than it could be: Cut got married and has kids) and has next to no experience with what a normal romance looks like except for hanging out on the edges of whatever the fuck his General has going on with the Senator

She's several years less mature than he is (...something of an issue)

So a lot of this is mostly okay. She feels weird about the fact that she's got more knowledge of romance and all that it entails. He feels weird about the fact that, despite her being older, he looks at her and sees someone that's still a little young, not quite a shiny. Except she is older than him, and he's seen her behead four people in a single move, and they've saved each other's lives more times than either of them can count anymore. He respects her, and the fact that she's babyfaced doesn't change the fact that, in terms of who they are as people and warriors, they're on a level playing field.

She still looks at him and mourns his lost childhood, and he still looks at her and takes a moment to see past the too-big eyes and adolescent proportions.

But they really, really care about each other, and maybe part of them is starting to recognize that there's a bit of a crush before they time-travel, but neither one wants to make a move. There's a lot of baggage on both sides, a lot of "but they're a child" and "but they're (literally vs functionally) below me in the chain of command, I can't take advantage of that" and all that fun stuff. It's the kind of situation where two people circle each other for ages without making a move, because actually making that move is terrifying on account of not knowing whether the other party knows they can say no, on top of the usual "what if it ruins our friendship?" thing.

What happens on Dagobah, though... is very tropey. They're sort of stranded until Ahsoka can fix the ship, and that takes time. The area is also very heavy with the Force, dense and heady with the energy it carries, and it's... actually really not great for Ahsoka. She keeps feeling like she's back on Mortis, and has nightmares from the trigger there, but also keeps hallucinating because she wasn't ready for the thickness of the energy (like Yoda) or still new enough to the Force that she couldn't feel how dense it all was (like Luke). She can't work on the engines as constantly as she'd like to get them out of there, and while Rex is a competent mechanic, he's not as skilled with it as the girl who jumped headfirst into lessons with Anakin.

Rex spends a lot of time holding Ahsoka and wiping her brow with a wet cloth while she's feverish and out of it. Yes we're going full Florence Nightingale romance here, let me have my fun.

They get the communications relay working earlier than the engine, find out the year is wrong, panic a bit. All is well. (It's not, but they're holding it together for now.)

Ahsoka keeps working on the engine when she's lucid. Rex keeps hunting up game and edible plants for them while she does. They cuddle at night, because it's not cold but it is empty of the people they care about, and they kind of want that reassurance of someone they trust and love at their back.

(Morai visits.)

(Daughter shows up in the nightmares, tells Ahsoka that age will not come for her beloved until the time is natural for it. The phrasing is dumb but she does manage to convey that the accelerated aging is no longer an issue, if it even was after they hit adulthood. Ahsoka is relieved.)

And, you know, emotions happen. She takes his hand while they're leaning up against each other. He kisses her forehead while she's having a bad spell. They cook together and tell jokes to keep sane and spar. They hug each other through nightmares and panic attacks. There is much blushing. There is much cuddling.

Once, they kiss.

They break apart, flushing and stammering and being very awkward about the whole thing, and make excuses to leave and panic about the fact that they!! Kissed!!!!!

A couple hours later they find each other again, and have a long and complicated discussion about why they like each other (war makes bedfellows, there's trust and affection and all that fun stuff) and why they're hesitant (age stuff, maturity stuff, prior indoctrination), and make the decision to take it slow. They cuddle, and kiss, and blush a lot because both of them are basically just dumb teens having their first real relationship.

They eventually leave the planet, make it to Coruscant, etc. It takes a bit for anyone except Obi-Wan to realize that something's changed between them. Most people didn't know them before, and Anakin's observation skills are currently at a very low ebb. But they sit together and hold hands, and flirt when they spar, and once or twice people find them kissing (both standard and Keldabe) in a corner while holding hands and then just smiling at each other like loons.

They end up rooming together because nobody has the heart to separate them after hearing about all the war stuff. Like yes attachment's bad, but these two do seem to understand loss of loved ones and recognize that they could lose each other at any time and death is natural and they won't lose their entire shit about it, and if even General Kenobi is anxious as hell about being separated from the people he fought side-by-side with for two years, then maybe it's just... really normal for those two to want each other's company, and everyone can just turn a blind eye to the romance happening.

They share a bed, but they only ever sleep in it. Like, there's some goodnight kisses and cuddles, but everything is very G-rated until they've had time to settle into being true equals instead of just the "well, I guess the power dynamics balance out? Maybe?" of before.

And just... yeah. Rex does not believe that he's in this good of a position whenever he has the time to think about it. He's got a girlfriend! A really pretty, smart, strong, skilled one! Who thinks he's a cool dude! How the fuck did a clone like him manage that? He wasn't even legally a person a year ago, how did he end up in bed with one of the most amazing people he's ever met? He spends multiple nights just staring at her while he tries to fall asleep, asking himself how he got here and just like... marveling at her. She's worth marveling at. He's in love and she's amazing and he has no idea how to handle it at all.

...yeah no I have a lot of feelings now.

[datleggy]

Missing Scene 4x08 9-1-1 fox

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT FOR “BREAKING POINT”

By the time he manages to grab his keys, jump into his truck, drive halfway across town and find parking in Buck’s neighborhood, Eddie is a mess of nerves as he makes his way across the threshold and into the loft. “Buck, where’s--” 

Buck shushes him immediately, pointing upstairs to where his bedroom is. “He’s exhausted. He ate one of those oven ready mac n’ cheese meals in my fridge and practically fell asleep on my couch; I carried him up to bed a few minutes ago. He’s knocked out up there.” 

Eddie sighs, the relief he feels is staggering. 

He quietly makes his way upstairs and lingers at the top step, watching his kid sleep soundly, his chest moving up and down rhythmically with every breath he takes. Eddie stands there and simply takes in the sight for a handful of minutes before slowly making his way back down and to the kitchen, where Buck is leaning back against his counter sipping on a beer. 

There’s another one on the table waiting for him and he gratefully grabs it, taking a long gulp before sitting it back down and letting out a deep sigh. 

“So uh, what exactly happened?” Buck asks, and there’s something about his tone Eddie can’t decipher, but he knows it’s not good. 

“I told you already, he found out I started dating someone and clearly he didn’t take it so well.” Eddie takes another swig of his beer, huffing in frustration. 

Buck places his drink down on the counter and folds his arms, “Yeah, I know that part, what I don’t get is how Christopher managed to literally run away from home with you in the house? What were you doing when he took your phone, used it to call an Uber and had some stranger drive him here in the middle of the night?” 

Accusatory. That’s what that tone is, Eddie finally identifies. “Are you serious right now?” he slams his beer bottle down with unnecessary force and Buck gives him a warning look. 

He half whispers, half yells, when he says, “No shit I’m serious. Answer the question.” 

Eddie blinks, surprised and equal parts irritated by the ire he’s receiving from Buck of all people. Lawsuit aside, Buck has never not been on Eddie’s side; this entire confrontation feels wrong and foreign to him. “I was on a video call with Ana, I had my headphones in, I knew Christopher was upset about the news, but I didn’t think he would--” 

“This? What happened tonight? This was the best case scenario, and I know damn well you know that. Christopher got into some strangers car tonight. Eddie, what if I hadn’t been home? He didn’t have a phone with him or anything, he didn’t even take your copy of my key with him, just in case Albert and I weren’t here. What the hell would he have done then? Hung out in the hallway or God forbid roamed the streets and waited for someone to notice an unattended nine year old?” Buck’s been angry before, but nothing compares to the wrath brewing somewhere deep in the pit of his belly right now.

Eddie goes on the defense, glaring at Buck from across the table in the half light. “It’s so easy for you to stand there and judge me when you’re not a parent yourself, Buck. What do you expect from me? I can’t keep an eye on Christopher twenty four seven--how the hell was I supposed to know he’d leave like that?!” 

Buck glares at him right back, matching his intensity, times ten. “First of all, keep your voice down--he’s sleeping.” Buck plows on, even as Eddie tries to talk over him. “And secondly, I don’t need to be a parent to know you fucked up tonight the same way I don’t need to be a pilot to know that if the plane went down something’s wrong. How could you not hear him leaving? Were you two watching a goddamn movie over skype, is that why you didn’t hear the damn door open and shut? Christopher’s a lot of things, but stealthy isn’t one of ‘em Eddie.” 

“What the fuck is your problem right now? What? You think I don’t feel shitty enough already? You wanna add insult to injury on top of everything?” Eddie scoffs, aggravated and hurt and on the attack. “I don’t need you to lecture me on how to take care of my kid. He’s mine, not yours, in case you forgot.” 

Buck takes a step back, like he’s been dealt a harsh blow. “That’s not--I’m not saying--” he stammers, his face crumpling into despair. “I was scared.” he hides his face in his palms, exhaling fully. “Jesus Christ Eddie, I saw him standing outside my building in the cold, trying to work the handle, and he was alone and when I brought him inside and he told me everything, about the phone and the Uber ride I instantly thought about every single little thing that could have gone so horribly wrong, how it was a miracle he made it all the way here and that he was safe--” his voice cracks on the last word and he turns his back to Eddie, his shoulders shaking. 

Fear. Fear is what Eddie had felt. Instant hot white fear and an overwhelming panic, for those few brief awful moments wherein he’d had no idea where Christopher had run off to. 

“Shit.” Eddie lets out an audible breath. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that--you’re a good dad, I just--all I can think about right now is the tsunami, about how I lost Christopher, about how I couldn’t breathe until--” 

“You found him.” Eddie finishes softly. He makes his way to Buck and settles a hand on his shoulder, his thumb brushing the nape of his neck. “I know the feeling. Trust me. Every parents worst nightmare.” 

Buck turns around, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “I know I’m not Christopher’s dad, I swear that’s not what I was trying to--” 

Eddie shakes his head. “That wasn’t fair, what I said. I know everyone sees me and thinks, ‘single dad’, but I don’t know if I would have survived this whole parenting thing without you by my side, Buck. And that’s the hard truth. I mean, hell, we get into an argument and the first person Christopher turns to is you. You know that’s gotta count for something, don’t you?” 

Buck swipes at his face when a stray tear rolls down his cheek. “Sorry...about what I said. I think I was just projecting.” 

Eddie gulps, “No. You weren’t.” he admits, pressing his lips together. “I did fuck up tonight. Big time. I should have been in Christopher’s room, talking to him about everything, trying to explain to him that nothing about our relationship is going to change, just because I’m dating, and that no one could replace his mother, I should have been in there, making sure he understood--especially after how volatile his reaction was and then the whole storming off after. Instead I decided to spend an hour on skype talking to Ana about it.” He sighs. “Christopher’s been my first and main priority for so long, I guess I’m not used to splitting my attention between two people. I uh, I need to work on that...” 

“Bucky?” 

Eddie and Buck both whip their heads up to where Christopher is leaning against the railing, peeking down at the both of them. 

���Hey bud, you ok?” Buck hastily tries to turn his expression into something more neutral. 

“Had a bad dream.” Christopher looks at the two men pleadingly. “Can you guys come sleep with me?” 

Eddie turns to Buck and they communicate silently, with only a couple of looks, ultimately deciding that it is, in fact, bedtime. 

“We’ll be right up.” Eddie tells him. 

[tojiaesth]

ice queen. three.

toji fushiguro x f!reader

summary: figure skater!y/n once found solace in the scratching of her blade against the ice, the aches and pains of her body proof of her dedication. after breaking world records and reaching the top she so desperately climbed her way to, she’s at a loss. a meeting by chance, broken promises and guarded walls, y/n gets more than she bargained for by one introspective man.

word count: 1k +

warnings: angst, depression, panic attacks, suicide attempt, mentions of self harm, lots of depictions of poor mental health. read at own risk.

A/N: sorry that this took so long, i’ve been sick :/ i kept editing and editing, it got to a point that i just had to post and hope for the best.

series masterlist -> current -> four

You were exhausted. It had been several hours since you had won gold, having been subjected to countless interviews, photographs and the overall management of press. After millions of congratulations and conversations with other skaters, you were drained. When you finally walked out, dressed casually and grateful for your very comfortable gym shoes, the previously bustling arena was silent. It lingered in the air, and for the first time you actually admired its beauty, the stress of your programme and the masses of people meant you hadn’t really looked around. You weaved around the stairs and sat down, taking a deep breath.

You waited.

You waited for the wave of happiness and gratitude fill your body at the unwavering fact that you had fulfilled your life long dream. Instead, dread sat snugly in the pit of your stomach and you burst into tears. Your shoulders shook violently and you attempted to quieten the sobs that wrecked your body but you couldn’t. You cried like a child, and for a few minutes, you were. The overwhelming numbness washed through you, it was suffocating. You couldn’t breathe, it was too much, this was too much.

You stood up, shakily but swiftly trudging down the stairs, cheeks wet with tears.

What was the point? You had tried everything, furiously wiping your tears of frustration. Nothing had changed since you won, it was disheartening.

You didn’t know if it was your parents fault, if it was yours, if it was starting such a gruelling profession in the first place but you were tired. You reached for your phone in the pocket of your raincoat, fingers unable to punch in the passcode. You lifted down your mask and used the face ID, eyebrows furrowed as you saw you had no new notifications.

You just needed validation, desperately searching through the contacts for the one woman who had her claws in your every thought. You pressed dial, the sound of the phone ringing accompanying the heaviness in your chest and with a couple rings, she picked up.

“What is it, Y/N? I’m busy.” Your mothers usual snappy tone hit your ears and you swallowed down more tears.

“D-did you get my voicemail?” You cringed at how pathetic you sounded, voice cracking and evident of your breakdown.

There was a long pause as you heard voices in the background, it sounded like your father.

“...Yes.”

More pauses.

“Is that all you can say, Mom? I won. I did it for you and Dad. It took everything in me and I just...I want you to-”

“I don’t have time for what you want. Our business is on the verge of collapse and you think your stupid problems matter? As selfish as always.”

You clenched your phone, she had continued in a condescending tone but your attention was elsewhere. The growing anger that had slowly risen over the years was finally reaching a tipping point, boiling and twisting itself into an unpleasant form.

“Fuck you.” You spat.

“E-excuse me? How dare you-”

“I said fuck you, Mother. When have I ever been selfish? You and your husband have completely neglected me for the past twenty years and I’m the selfish one? You know what...I’m done vying for your approval. All I ever wanted was to hear you say you were proud of me, but that’s clearly never going to happen. You treated me like shit since the day I was born. You’re a terrible person and it breaks my heart knowing I was never given a chance. I don’t deserve this and as far as I’m aware, I don’t have parents. Have a nice life.”

You pressed end before you heard her reply, your fingers moving to block the number. You calmly placed the device into your trouser pockets, shrugging off your coat. You suddenly felt hot. As you walked out of the arena and into the main building, the air was cool on your t-shirt, bringing you back to reality. Your ears began ringing and air constricted around your lungs. Ignoring the torturous sensation, along with the heavy sound of the rain, you dragged your suitcase and opened it up, digging wildly around. Grabbing your skates you searched for the nearest window, which unfortunately were pretty high up, mouth twisting at the burning need to dispose of them.

Everything they represented was ruined. Your accomplishments, passion and determination was rooted out by the stem and ripped from the ground. All you saw now were your parents sneering faces, along with everyone else who had ever mistreated you.

You knew you looked crazy, eyes red and puffy, mascara dripping down your cheeks as you shivered at the cold, holding your skates like a newborn baby. You had tipped your suitcase over in the frenzy to find the equipment that you usually placed at the bottom, and your clothes were all over the footpath. A few individuals were still loitering, eyes curiously on you but your eyes were fixed to the window, deep in thought.

The roof! How could you forget that all arenas usually had large rooftops? They were your comfort when you needed a quiet place before a programme. You turned around quickly, ignoring the screaming at the back of your head and the sobs that threatened your body. Your phone buzzed wildly in your pocket, hot to the touch but you barely noticed, feet walking for you as your mind shut down.

“Isn’t that...Y/N?” Megumi asked, turning to his father. They had both snuck out, hiding from Mai’s overbearing parents who insisted on multiple family photos.

Toji slowed down as he noticed you open what looked like a large, heavy side door that you wouldn’t have noticed if you walked past. You struggled, the skates awkwardly placed in your hands reducing your strength. He could only see your side profile and they were still several feet away, but as someone who could quickly read situations, he determined that something was wrong.

“Dad?”

“Yeah? It looks like her. Megumi I think Maki went to get some snacks, go find her.”

Megumi side eyed his father, who simultaneously looked back at him. A silent agreement took place and his son turned around in the other direction.

Toji looked back at where you were spotted, except you weren’t there. His eyebrow knitted in confusion when he saw a single figure skate outside the same door. Moving closer, a black iPhone was placed next to it, a small crack lining the screen.

What the hell? He picked up the phone and it’s sensor lit the screen up, his eyes automatically scanning the text messages.

Akira: Please please pick up the phone. I’m really worried. I heard what you said to Mom, can we talk?

Father: How could you speak to your own mother like that? I have grown tired of your temper tantrums. Contact us when you are ready to apologise.

Shoko: I’m outside, let’s get drunk olympic athlete!!

Kou: Congrats, princess. I wish I was there. Call me later? I’m so proud of you.

Toji stopped reading, realising he was invading your privacy. But from what he could gather someone was worried and something had happened. Your phone rang again, and he froze, debating whether to answer.

His fingers moved before his mind.

“Y/N! Oh thank god, are you okay? I was really worried that something had happened, you sounded really upset on the phone and it scared me-”

“Hello?” Toji’s deep voice hit Akira’s ears and there was silence for half a second.

“Who is this? Where’s my sister?” Akira ran his fingers through his hair, he was surprised he still had hair at the severe stress he was going through.

“I’m...a friend. She left her phone on the floor? I think she went somewhere.”

Toji couldn’t explain he had only met you once and had picked up, essentially, a strangers phone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please could you go and look for her...she��s upset and,” He trailed off, not wanting to cause a panic.

“it’s complicated.” He finished.

“Okay, I saw where she went but it looked like she wanted some privacy. I can go and get her.”

Thank you. Tell her to call me when you do.” Akira let out a sigh of relief and ended the call.

Toji pocketed the phone, his eyes trailing at the random clothes strewn near the entrance. He recognised the dress you wore in your programme, and how sad and lifeless it looked curled up in a ball.

Quickly opening the door, he slipped through and let it clang behind him. There was a flight of stairs leading to an open door, wind blasting through and making him shiver. Even with his suit jacket, the air was bitter, a tender drizzle lightly spraying his skin as he concentrated on not falling on the slippery stairs. As he walked into the open air, he looked around, the stormy clouds ominously patterning the sky and darkening the area. There was no chairs or anywhere to sit, just a huge rooftop with a small, short railing that poorly lined the wall. He finally noticed you tucked into a corner, arms beside you, the one skate in your hand. You were soaked, hair clinging to your forehead as he moved closer, the wind was loud and he couldn’t hear anything but it looked like your lips were moving.

- - - - - tw: suicide attempt - - - - -

His mouth closed as quickly as it gestured to open, not wanting to startle you as your feet teetered on the edge. Toji was not one to panic, usually very calm and collected, a trait that many of his subordinates respected. In spite of this, his heart was beating out of his chest, a light sweat broke out on his forehead as he slowly neared. He slipped off his jacket, his mind reaching a million conclusions as he thought of ways best to reach you.

Time seemed to slow down when your stance wavered, foot slipping off the edge. Your skate dropped first, cruelly beckoning you as your body moved to follow. It looked so serene, the lightning glinting against the blade so quickly you didn’t even think about the sheer consequence of your actions. Would there be light? Or darkness? You had contemplated death so much but never what followed. Despite your acceptance, and as you braced yourself, your arms were grabbed and shoved with so much strength, you shrieked, body collapsing onto an arm as you fell back. Your chest was against someone, sensing their heartbeat wild in their rib cage, which mirrored yours. The adrenaline coursed through your body and you found yourself out of breath, lost as to what just occurred.

You both lay there, making no attempt to move, heartbeats simultaneously slowing down as the rain seemingly took its anger out on your surroundings.

“I’m...sorry?” You whispered, your questioning tone laced underneath your voice, now thick with tears. You didn’t know why you were apologising, but the heaviness in your chest returned when you began processing what you attempted. You were only brought back to reality by the strange man you were on top of, his somehow warm fingers laced around your arm.

Your head moved slightly everytime he inhaled, remaining silent.

Toji on the other hand, needed a moment. He never expected to be in this situation, nor worry that he had to stop a woman from dying. The look in your eyes were morose and completely defeated when you tried to fall, for a second everything slowed down and his body filled with dread.

“It’s okay. Here.” Toji shuffled up, bringing your shaking body with him, he gestured to the jacket he previously wanted to place on you, hesitating when he saw it was ruined. It was drenched with the rainwater that was beating against your heads, lying in a puddle on the floor. You were both ice-cold and needed to go inside, the unfriendly clouds aggressively emptying on the rooftop. Your legs were still jelly like, the adrenaline was still pumping in your veins and the drowning sadness was...gone.

You giggled, and it turned into laughter, head thrown back as your eyes closed. After a few minutes, you sighed contentedly, looking up at the sky as the rain drops fell softly on your cheeks. Your eyes glistened and you felt the man’s presence behind you, his hand gently placed on your shoulder, as your head dropped into his chest.

It was strange, in spite of the fact that he was a stranger, he was oddly comforting, assuaging the intense emotions raging through you. For a split second, as you fell it felt freeing.

But that scared you. As hard it was to live sometimes, you swore you’d never do anything like that. The small circle of people you cared about would be devastated. You couldn’t do that to them. Although a minuscule, albeit hated part of you wondered...would your parents care? Would they be full of regrets?

You didn’t know. You despised that they still inhabited your thoughts. You also despised that they could invoke such strong and scary emotions from you sometimes. You couldn’t believe that for a second they drove you to want to hurt yourself.

“You must think I’m crazy.” You stated. As you both stood there, the occasional clap of thunder making you jump, his protective arms lay across you and you did nothing to deter them.

“I don’t.” The bass of his voice rumbled against your back, piquing your curiosity at its familiarity. You turned around, his thoughtful eyes landing on yours. His hair was stuck to his forehead, draping across his eyes as rain droplets slid down his lips, a softer, more rosier colour than you imagined. The rain continued around you and you stared at each other, his green eyes boring into you. They were sincere, slightly concerned and not at all glancing at you in disgust like you feared. He was the kind man from earlier who gave you flowers. It stuck with you. Your eyes became misty and you looked away, the chemical reactions in your body altering itself back to normal.

“What’s your name?” You asked, eyes transfixed to the floor.

“Toji Fushiguro.”

“I’m Y/N L/N.” Your back was now to him, fists clenching at the soreness in your heart.

“Yeah. I know.” He replied softly. His hand clasped around yours as he guided you towards the door.

“Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”

You tugged his arm back a little, planting your feet on the floor and he stopped his motion. Lightning flashed across the rooftop, the both of you becoming significantly more soaked but you were distracted by his eyes, noticing golden flecks aligning his irises, emphasising its virescence.

“Do you ever feel like dying, Toji?”

His eyes fell on yours, scanning your face as you watched a reflection of the next flash of lightning in a puddle.

“Sometimes it’s all I think about. Maybe even everyday.” You continued, not waiting for a response. The sudden urge to empty out your soul to the tall man next to you was overwhelming.

“No matter what I do I can’t shake this suffocating feeling that my life will come to an end and I’ll be filled with regrets. It’s like someone is constantly sat on my chest and it goes away briefly when I skate.”

You sniffled and attempted to talk through your tears,

“Pretty heavy stuff for a 24 year old huh? I’ve accomplished everything I wanted...except the one thing that really mattered. My parents hate me so what’s the point? I was doing it for them - skating I mean. Now I feel like I’ve wasted years of my life, ruined the passion I had for the sport, pushed people away in a desperate attempt to stay focused. For what?”

You grew angrier, your fists clenched, the material of Toji’s dress shirt was bunched as your forehead leaned against his chest.

You sobbed for what felt like hours, eyes raw and cheeks red as he silently comforted you, his large hand pressed against the back of your head.

“Y/N. Chasing after unattainable goals was bound to make you feel this way. You are too hard on yourself. I don’t want to presume anything but instead of treating skating like a way to win the approval of others, treat it like a hobby. Maybe that way you’ll fall back in love with it again. I also think you deserve a break.”

He spoke softly, his smell enveloping your nostrils and as his hand lightly touched your hair, you felt your tears quieten. You didn’t want to have another panic attack. Your eyelids became heavy, and for a few more minutes you calmed down against the heartbeat in his chest, mimicking his slow breathing.

Part of you wanted to scream and run at the mere thought that this man had seen you in your most vulnerable moment, but he was sincere. You also understood what he was trying to say, now that you had won a gold medal, it was time for a long break - maybe even forever. You weren’t sure. It saddened you but you also felt relief. Maybe all you wanted was to hear that from someone else.

“Okay. Thank you for hearing me out, I truly appreciate it.” You gazed at him, his blurry figure underneath your eyes as you blinked back tears.

You looked up at the sky again, the rain slowing down and you wanted to laugh. The pathetic fallacy of the situation was amusing but liberating. The rain represented your struggles but it was now coming to a close.

“Let’s go back.” Toji took his hand in yours again and the feeling of safety washed through you.

You gently squeezed his hand as a response and your legs moved for you. Before you knew it, you were back in the arena, the area void of people. You sighed in relief and looked at your clothes that were still chaotically placed on the floor. Your foot brushed your other figure skate, the guards removed, the fluorescent lights catching on the blade.

Toji saw your demeanour change as you let go of his hand, shoving any piece of clothing into the case, purposely avoiding the equipment that your life revolved around. Your clothes dripped water onto the floor as you looked around wildly.

“Ah shit, where’s my phone?” You muttered to yourself, annoyed at the drama you felt you caused. The bright lights provided sudden clarity and you felt saddened that you had truly reached rock bottom.

“I have it, I noticed it on the floor as you left. I apologise for taking it.” Toji answered, reaching into his pocket and taking out the device.

“It’s fine, thank you.” You took it from his hands and as you looked down and scrolled through your notifications, Toji studied you. He wanted to ask if you were feeling better, or even probe more at what drove you to such a dark spot, but he appreciated that you were a reticent person and had actually opened up more than he’d expect. He also wanted to ask if you had any support, reluctant to let you leave his sight.

“Someone named Akira called. He...wanted to know if you were okay. He actually asked you to call him.”

You looked up slowly, eyes ascertaining his.

“That’s all he said.” Toji’s inquisitive eyes continued to look through you.

You fumbled with your phone, sensing his next question.

“I’m never going to do anything like that again so you can stop looking at me like that.”

Toji moved to reply, stepping towards you.

“Y/N?”

You both turned around.

Mai had come from the opposite direction, entire family in tow as their voices filled the area. They quietened down quickly, faces screwed at the scene before them. You both must’ve looked strange, stood stiffly in a corner with clothes soaked and uncomfortably clinging.

They were honestly the last people you wanted to see.

“Hi.” You forced a smile, willing yourself to act normal.

“I didn’t realise you were still here! I actually wanted to talk to you - wait why are you guys soaked? Or even...together?” She fired, hands placed on her hips. She too, was dressed down compared to before.

You froze, unable to come up with an excuse, faltering under the gaze of several eyes.

“Someone threw her things outside, I was helping her get them back.” Toji coolly replied, hands in his pockets.

A woman gasped behind Mai, moving closer.

“Oh my, are you okay? Have your things been returned? Some people can be very nasty! Well I guess with winning gold you’re bound to make enemies, Mai unfortunately was subjected to bullying when she was-.”

Mai cut her off as she rambled,

“Mom. Not now.”

She turned to you sheepishly.

“These are my parents. Don’t take anything they say seriously.” She gestured to the couple, continuing her introductions.

“This is my sister Maki. We’re twins. Oh and this is Megumi! Toji’s son.”

Despite your causal nodding and friendly acknowledgements, your eyes must’ve given away your shock at the new fact.

Toji chuckled next to you.

“I...thought he was your brother.”

“I get that a lot. No surprise with my good looks and-.”

“Dad, give it a rest.” Megumi huffed, seemingly used to his behaviour.

You smiled and awkwardly clutched your suitcase.

“I should go. It was nice to meet you all. Congratulations Mai.”

“Thanks!” Mai beamed at you, nudging her sister, who smiled back at her.

“It was lovely to see you skate in person, Y/N. Please, you are welcome in my home anytime.” Mai’s father shook your hand and his friendly aura almost made you forget your embarrassing appearance.

“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate it.”

“Oh no need to be so formal! Please call me by my first name.” You bowed appreciatively, really needing to leave.

“Wait! Could I have your number? Um I was hoping we could, talk? I don’t know, you don’t have to!” Mai shyly asked, hands behind her, her cheeks dusted pink.

“Sure.” You unlocked your phone and she quickly punched her number in. After she finished, you gave one last wave to the eccentric family.

“Thanks for your help, Fushiguro. It meant a lot.” You whispered, smiling. Toji felt a pang to his stomach, your smile was genuine but the hint of sadness hit his chest. He straightened up, ruffling your half dry hair affectionately.

“No worries.” He hesitated, worry evident.

“Do you need a ride home?”

“No! I think my friend has been waiting for me.” You had seen more texts from Shoko within the last ten minutes, her impatience obvious.

“Okay. Please take care of yourself.” He had lowered his tone amongst the chatter and you smiled weakly.

“Don’t worry. It’ll take time but I’ll be fine.

You shivered again and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Megumi. Give her your jacket.”

Your eyes widened, “No it’s okay!”

The warm material was draped around your shoulders anyway as Toji moved closer to you. You turned your face away so your blush wasn’t noticed. He smiled.

Maki and Megumi, two very perceptive individuals, glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

Your phone rang, your cue to leave and you gave them one last goodbye.

“Uh, your skate? It’s on the floor.” Megumi remarked, pointing towards the equipment you had kicked earlier, shoving it behind what you thought was a hidden curve in the wall.

You sighed wearily.

“Ah! Thank you.” You grudgingly picked it up, hiding your dismay and as your eyes found Toji’s again, you could see the concern in them. You gave him one last reassuring nod and left again, hypersensitive to your surroundings. You sent your brother a quick text, tucking the skate into your arm.

Me: I’m okay. I think I need some time away from everything. I probably won’t be replying to any messages in the next few weeks but just know I’m safe.

It sent and you looked through the rest, replying to what you could and ignoring the angry messages from your father. Your phone rang and it was Shoko.

“I’m literally outside, don’t kill me.” You began before being interrupted.

“You’re all over Twitter, your name and Japan is trending and there’s like a million videos of your programme being retweeted. I’ve been busy watching them all and I am so so proud of you, Y/N. Let’s go out tonight, I wanna make up for being a sad excuse of a friend who didn’t even get to see it in person.” She rambled, her voice half sad, half excited for you and your eyes crinkled in happiness.

You needed to hear that.

“Done. Although with my current state, I will need to go home and change.”

Your eyes noticed her range rover parked outside the arena, windows rolled down despite the weather.

“It’s freezing, what’s with the windows?” You asked, having ended the call and leaning on her car.

She squealed in delight and quickly jumped out the car, engulfing you in her warm embrace. Her brown hair draped across your face as you inhaled her sugary scent.

“You’re incredible,” She murmured into your shoulder.

“I don’t think you realise that. But you will, one day.”

Your eyes glazed over and for the tenth time today you cried. She bundled you into her car, ungraciously throwing your suitcase in her boot. She slid beside you and her eyes shined with tears and you forgot everything that happened today. You loved that Shoko could turn the dark feelings that festered in you into smaller, more manageable pieces.

“Now enough tears. Let’s get this party started and for one night I will be an extremely irresponsible doctor and encourage you to get wasted.”

She giggled as you rolled your eyes, pressing a button where music drifted into the speakers. Band-maid, one of your favourite groups, filled the vehicle, the heavy rock sounds of the song Blooming commencing as you tipped your head back against the leather seat. You smiled and nodded your head along as she drove, eyes on the bright lights of the arena that slowly disappeared.

The feelings running through you were now a lot lighter on your shoulders as you twisted the hem of your jacket. Your mind wandered back to piercing green eyes, a distinct scent that would not leave your nostrils and warm hands that you could still feel around your own. You sniffed the collar of the jacket, realising where the same smell was from and scoffed. It made you lightheaded.

Shoko was still rambling in the background, slightly drowned out by the music as she animatedly discussed the itinerary for tonight, it was only 7pm and she emphasised how the both of you hadn’t explored the night life in Tokyo. You were surprised at your excitement as she spoke, earlier events pushed aside, but deep down you knew it needed to be addressed. Yes, you were young, successful and no longer decided to chase after things that made you unhappy but it would take time to heal.

Now was the time to start.

“Hey, Shoko?” You moved to turn down the music and looked at your best friend.

“Yeah?”

“I hate to be a killjoy but I’d rather just have a quiet night in. There’s also...something I wanna talk to you about.” You nervously looked at her, figuring out her reaction. You needed to confide in her and your mental health could only take so much.

She looked back at you, noticing the redness in your eyes and heavy eye bags and smiled softly.

“Of course babe.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“What the-”

Megumi slowed the car down after hitting something, his eyes glancing in bewilderment at his father.

“What? You insisted on driving, you figure it out.” Toji replied, shrugging his shoulders. Despite having said that, he rolled down his windows and peered out, noticing something shining against the street lamp.

He grumbled and got out the car,

“I’ll have a look. Next time check your surroundings, idiot.”

Megumi cussed under his breath, turned off the ignition and took out his phone.

The air was cooler, compared to the storm from half an hour ago. He walked towards what he thought was a piece of glass, hoping it hadn’t punctured the tyres. As soon as it was in his line of sight, he realised, looking up and seeing the arena’s rooftop above him.

Ah.

He thought about leaving it there but changed his mind, grabbing the lonely skate and discreetly putting it into the boot of his car. He slid back in the car seat, eyes clouded as he scrutinised his earlier conversation with you.

Did he say the right things? Should he have not let you go? Or given you his number? He was kicking himself, but he trusted you wouldn’t do that again.

“Dad? What was it?” Megumi asked, irritated at his father’s lack of response.

“Nothing. Start the car.”

“But I heard you open the-”

“Start the car.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

tag list: @kriswu46 @deadflowerd <3

[kyber-queen]

to build a home (rex x jedi!reader)

Summary: A slight rewrite of the ‘ARC Troopers’/Invasion of Kamino episode in season 3, where reader is a Jedi general who has worked alongside the 501st in the past. After a dramatic battlefield encounter, the reader confronts questions of the clones’ place in the universe as well as their own burgeoning feelings for a certain clone captain.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Medical stuff, mentions of drowning, mentions of blasters, rex is awkward and fives is a lil shit, slight suggestive content, a kiss perhaps

Author’s Note: this one’s for the lovely @porgnugget !! this was originally gonna be a quick blurb to pull me out of my writer’s block but oops anyways I hope you enjoy!!!

***

You stared out the bridge port, watching as ships emerged one-by-one from hyperspace to surround a watery-blue planet. With each new starship, your heart sank. This battle wouldn’t be easy, but then again, easy battles were hard to come by these days. You’d been temporarily assigned to the 183rd, and your men were already weary from two months of slugging their way through the outer rim under Separatist fire. They had been eagerly awaiting their return to the capitol, but after your head communications officer received word of an imminent Separatist attack on Kamino, just about every man in your unit was eager to come to the aid of his brothers.

You heard rustling from behind you, followed by the two consecutive thuds of standard-issue boots fixing themselves to the ground. The trooper they belonged to issued you a respectful salute.

“Sir, the Council requests you answer their holocall immediately,”

You had figured your weak excuse for rerouting your unit wouldn’t hold for long.

“Transfer them through,”

As the stern blue faces of the Jedi council materialized before you, you steeled yourself in preparation for their reprimands.

“General, you’ve received explicit orders to return to Coruscant at once. Why, pray tell, is your starship about to breach the Kaminoan atmosphere?”

Master Windu glared down at you expectantly.

“With all due respect, Master, this is the home of the men we fight alongside each day. The 183rd has expressed their commitment to defending this planet, and it is my job as their interim General to honor their desires whenever possible. I and the 183rd will be assisting with the defense of Kamino,”

Windu glanced at Master Unduli over his shoulder. Before another Council member had the chance to speak, the transmission crackled. The Separatists were jamming your signal. Your comms went dark.

You glanced over to the officers piloting the ship. Their hands danced from button to button, working to maintain communication with the ground forces on Kamino. The comm failure had settled it—you were going in.

“Prepare for entry,” you called. A stiff nod from your commander reassured you that the officers had heard you. You turned in a swirl of deep brown robes and made your way to the armory. You had troopers to prepare.

***

You hit the ground from about twenty feet above, using the force to cushion your fall. Confident that the LAATs would find their way into the heart of the battle as planned, you set off on foot for the nearest row of battle droids. As you dodged the seemingly endless stream of blaster fire, you took note of the troopers already facing off against the waves of separatist droids. You recognized the grey armor of the Kamino guard, as well as the deep blue of the 501st. You’d worked alongside the 501st several times before—you searched for a certain familiar face in the crowd.

You were already sure General Skywalker and General Ti were nowhere in sight. You deflected a few blaster bolts while planning your next move. You spotted four troopers aiming for a new line of droids, close to the edge of the platform. One of their brothers lay motionless behind them—they were probably in need of backup. You would make your way over there after you took down a few more rows of droids.

The adrenaline of battle roared through your veins. Your saber swung with a precision you were only able to master with the cacophony of blaster fire rattling in your brain. You heard shouting in the distance, but it didn’t seem to register. All you could focus on was the glide of your saber’s blade through the unforgiving metal skin of the nearest droid.

As you neared the small squadron of troopers, their shouts gained clarity.

“…we’re cutting it close, here. Steady trigger fingers, men,” one of them called.

A glance over your shoulder caused your stomach to flip. The voice belonged to the trooper in the center of the formation—his single pauldron and jaig-marked helmet identifying him in an instant, even through the blaster-fire haze of the battlefield. Rex. A formation of super battle droids closed in on the position his men struggled to hold. You deflected one last blaster bolt before charging in their direction.

You watched what happened next in slow motion.

A droid raised its fist at a trooper in all-white armor. The man didn’t even seem to notice. He raised his blaster, aiming at a droid to his left as his right side remained open for what had the potential to be a deadly blow. The droid swung. Rex dove. He yanked the trooper out of the droid’s trajectory, though the side of his helmet failed to escape its swing. The metal fist landed its blow with a sickening thunk, Rex’s body falling limply at the edge of the platform as his helmet clattered uselessly to the side. His unconscious form slipped. You jumped.

The three other troopers watched in awe as you leapt over a row of battle droids and into the churning Kaminoan waters. You hit its roiling surface feet-first, searching the whitecaps for a glimpse of white plastoid. Clone armor was built to float, right? You took a stroke to your left, dragging yourself through the water urgently when you spotted a glimpse of Rex’s blue pauldron through the waves. You vaguely felt your outer robes drift away, carried off by the tumultuous current. Your hand latched onto the blue plastoid, and you pulled hard. Rex had landed face-down in the water, you realized. You gulped.

Pulling his back to your chest, you kicked backwards as hard as you could in the direction of one of the durasteel supports. You called on the force to be present—you were going to need it if you were going to successfully haul Rex’s unconscious form forty feet upwards. You ducked underwater, shifting your grip on him so he was held in a makeshift fireman’s carry. You secured his body to yours with the force, invisible hands gripping tightly to the arm and leg slung around your shoulders. You grasped the first rungs of the ladder. You climbed.

With aching hands and trembling muscles, you hauled yourself foot-by-foot to the top of the platform. As soon as your fingers curled around the last rung, it was as if all the strength had been sapped from your system. Your chest burned with exertion. You rolled Rex onto his back, crawling beside him as you began your examination.

“He took a hit to the head, fell into the water. I was able to pull him out, but I need a medic,” you explained.

The three troopers stared, shocked. Had you really managed to drag a 200-pound man forty feet into the air from the water?

You glanced up from Rex’s face, noting the lack of movement from the three other men.

“I need a medic, now,” you ordered.

One of the troopers charged off. Satisfied that he’d retrieve someone far more qualified to administer first aid than you, you turned to the man before you. Rex’s face was pallid and sickly-looking. Alarm clawed at your insides. You felt for a pulse, and to your relief, the beat of his heart rose to meet your fingers steadily. His breaths were shallow and inconsistent, though—they sounded to be thick with seawater.

Remembering your training, you pinched his nose closed. You used the index finger of your other hand to tilt his jaw open, before taking a deep breath and sealing your mouth over his. You exhaled, watching carefully as his chest rose in response.

“Wake. Up,” you urged.

His pulse still beat strongly against your fingertips. A good sign, if nothing else.

You leaned down once more, praying to the Maker that he would breathe already. You exhaled, channeling much-needed oxygen into his flooded lungs. Minutes passed. His pulse grew steadier against your fingers.

You administered a final rescue breath, leaping back as if stung when you felt a splutter of air and water against your parted lips. Rex’s eyes fluttered open. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but curled in on himself as a coughing fit overtook him.

Scooping a hand around Rex’s shoulder, you pulled him onto his side, straining against the dead weight of his body. His chest shook as he expelled a sizeable puddle of water from his lungs.

You looked up at the rest of the battle for what felt like the first time in hours. There wasn’t a functioning droid in sight. Several troopers, their armor adorned with 501st blue, stared unabashedly at the scene before them. You looked back down at Rex, your cheeks warm.

“You gave us all quite a scare, there,” you murmured.

He stared at you with wide eyes, his face growing red. Panic jolted through your system. Was he choking?

“Rex? Are you alright?”

He blinked, shaking his head to himself as he hauled himself into a seated position.

“Yeah, General, I’m alright,”

His voice was rough and wavering, almost grating against his throat—from the saltwater, you assumed. You fell silent, focusing just a little too intently on his face.

Sensing that the imminent danger was over, chatter erupted from behind you.

“Some first kiss, eh, Cap’n?”

“Just like a fairy tale,” another trooper added on with a chuckle.

“Always thought you’d be the knight in shining armor, though—the General here dove after you before we even saw you fall,”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. You glanced at Rex out of the corner of your eye before quickly looking away.

“Fives, Hardcase, enough,” Rex grumbled. He made a move to stand up, rising shakily until you slung his arm over your shoulder in support. He stiffened for a moment at the contact before leaning into you slightly.

“Do you know where your medic is?” you questioned quietly.

Rex nodded over to his right. You ushered him through a few stumbling steps before the medic—Kix, you recognized—swooped under Rex’s other arm. Rex turned to you, his lips parting as he mulled over what exactly to say. His brows furrowed, and a new round of flush colored his skin.

“I—thank you, General,” he murmured. His eyes met yours for an instant, just before Kix pulled him toward the Kaminoan medbay.

***

You saw Rex again a few hours later.

A gentle knock sounded against the durasteel wall of your temporary quarters. With a wave of your hand, the door slid open effortlessly.

“Sir, I have your copy of the casualty reports,”

You turned around sharply. Your expression softened. Rex stood in your doorway, extending a stack of flimsi in your direction.

You took it with a quick nod of acknowledgement. Rex lingered in the doorway—you knew he could have easily asked a subordinate to deliver the reports, yet here he was. A wistful half-smile graced your lips—you were glad he came. You had missed him. You motioned for him to take a seat at the small table near the corner of your room, murmuring something about ‘old times’ sake’.

The two of you quickly fell into the routine you had established for yourselves when you worked alongside his unit—after a tough battle, you always seemed to end up together. At first, Rex tended to sit quietly alongside you. He wouldn’t offer much in terms of conversation, but his presence was always strangely comforting as you both silently mourned those you had lost that day. You weren’t quite sure when it happened, but eventually, the two of you began to share little fragments of your lives with each other. Your friendship grew stronger. Just before you were reassigned, you found yourself seeking him out daily—it was almost strange for you to admit just how reliant you had become on your conversations with the Captain.

Rex pulled out a chair and settled himself down.

You talked for an hour—you hadn’t seen him in months. Wartime seemed to stretch out the days until they felt endless, and you were both eager to hear how the other had spent their time. You explained your experiences in command of the 183rd, and Rex discussed his increasing responsibilities as Captain. He actively skirted any discussion of the day’s rather tense events.

“You did well today,” you offered. A couple of the men had quite generously filled you in on their Captain’s heroics after he was carted off by the medic. “I know it mustn’t have been easy, with your home planet in danger,”

“Thank you, but Kamino’s no home to us,” Rex responded. “It’s where my brothers are, and it was them I was protecting. Not Kamino. The Separatists threatened the one thing I had that’s worth defending—my family. It sure wasn’t easy, but it was a necessity,”

You nodded.

“I understand, in a way. I was taken from my parents when I was young, and the Order filled the void their absence left. We aren’t allowed partners or children, so the Order’s all I really have. If they were threatened, I suppose I’d put my life on the line for them, too,”

Rex propped an elbow up onto the table.

“What’s it like?”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Having the Order as your family?” Rex clarified.

You smiled softly, memories both blissful and bittersweet flooding your mind.

“It’s different, I guess. The Council can be cold, sometimes, but the Order did its best to raise an honorable Jedi. I do my best to remember the lessons my master taught me. The temple was my home for a long time—though not so much anymore. What about you?”

Rex thought for a moment before chuckling to himself.

“The closest thing we clones have to a home is 79’s. Kamino’s got a lot of bad memories attached to it—the longnecks were indifferent to us at best, but most of ‘em just treated us like livestock. At least you feel human at 79’s,”

“What’s it like, there?” you questioned.

“Loud,” Rex grinned. He sobered after a moment, his gaze drifting as he lost himself in thought. “Civvies’ll show up from time to time—makes it feel a bit more normal—but they’re only ever there for the spectacle of it all. Most of ‘em are just there to find someone to spend the night with. I’ve never been able to…” Rex trailed off uncomfortably, directing heavy eye contact towards the back of his hands. “…but some of my vod will. They know they’re being used, so they use ‘em right back. For most of us, there’s no real chance of a family outside our brothers—the Republic’s made sure of that,” 

Disdain tinged Rex’s tone. It was rare for him to express anything other than loyalty to the Republic, but thinking back on the regulations preventing the clones from entering relationships, or having children, or even showing their faces to civilians while on duty, you couldn’t say you blamed him.

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“But it’s not always like that, is it? So meaningless?”

Rex shrugged.

“Most of the time, it is. I’ve only met one brother who’s been able to get out, to build a life and a family outside the GAR. I’m happy for him, sure, but I won’t lie and say it wasn’t hard to see that other path and still follow the one that we clones are meant to follow. I think it’s the hope that’s worst in the end—hoping this blasted war will end, hoping someone other than your vod and a handful of Jedi’ll understand that you’re human. Unless you’re really in the thick of it, unless you really see that we’re flesh and blood, you just don’t care,”

You nodded, reaching across the small table to hold one of Rex’s hands in your own. Your heart ached for him. His expression softened slightly as he looked down at his hand in yours.

“I’m sorry about my brothers, by the way. The teasing today was—”

“It’s alright, Rex. I did what I had to do,”

You instantly regretted your phrasing when Rex’s hand fell slightly slack between your own.

“You saved my life,” he murmured. “I can’t thank you enough,”

He squeezed your hand before gently resting it back on the table. He rose from his seat, glancing at the chrono on his wrist.

“It’s getting late—I should get back to the barracks,”

Your gaze lifted to trace the sturdy lines of his face. His eyes met yours, his expression indiscernible, and in an instant, something clicked. The absence of his hand in yours felt like the loss of a limb.

He took a step towards the door. You stood up from your seat.

“Rex, wait—just…” you trailed off, reaching forward to catch his hand lightly in yours.

A hand—your hand—rose to cup his cheek. His breathing slowed in response. Taking a cautious step forward, you leaned in just close enough to feel the warm exhale from his nose against your cheek. You paused. You would leave it to Rex to close the gap.

After a second that felt like an hour of hesitation, Rex’s lips met yours. Maker, he was soft—yet still steady in his movements. You loved him, you knew it in an instant. Little fragments of each other’s lives had never been enough—you needed him, in his entirety, in every sense of the word.

Just as your thumb traced the sharp line of Rex’s cheekbone—just as Rex realized that he was finally kissing you and you were kissing him back—he pulled away.

His brows knotted in confusion.

“You didn’t mean to—”

“I meant it,”

You realized your hand was still intertwined with Rex’s. You held it like a lifeline.

His eyes—oh, his eyes—glimmered like the flicker of a flame in the dim light of your quarters. He didn’t back away. In that instant, Rex knew that he’d remember this moment for the rest of his numbered days. You meant it.

As his lips met yours for the second time of many, Rex figured there were an awful lot of ways to build a home.

***

Taglist: @peacefulwizardfox @a-lil-perspective @marvel-starwars-nerd @nelba

[itsnotwierditsart13]

Holy Shit (ronance fanfic)

A small little fic about Robin and Nancy getting together:)

It was a thankfully slow day at Family Video as Robin and Steve worked their shift together. Robin was building a new cardboard display case for a shipment that was supposed to have arrived hours ago. Everything was always moving in slow motion at this job, though, and Robin enjoyed it thoroughly. Meanwhile, Steve couldn’t even bother to look busy as he slumped in the one old raggedy chair that Keith allowed them to have. It was pouring rain outside, the windows rattling from thunder every so often. There were probably going to be at least 2 more customers coming in before they closed in four hours. Mostly just older ladies who shouldn’t be driving a car, let alone in the poor weather conditions. Ms. Matheson, a store regular, never rewound her tapes fully, always halfway. It drove Steve crazy, even though he expected it.

“We should have Nancy come by, since it’s so dead,” Steve stated casually as if he didn’t have ulterior motives. He was slumped in his chair, eyeballing Robin for any type of reaction. It was clear that she had feelings for Nancy. After everything that had happened at Starcourt the four of them had formed a bond. Hanging out together most days, sometimes including the kids.

“Don’t start,” Robin replied while flinging a piece of cardboard at him. It narrowly missed his head and landed on the dirty carpet behind him. “She’s my friend and straight, if you’ve forgotten. I’m not gonna indulge in whatever you’ve cooked up in that head of yours.” There was another boom of thunder, drowning out Steve’s exasperated sigh. It was the same conversation they’ve had about twenty times since Steve had picked up on Robin’s feelings. 

“It’s just...sometimes when she’s looking at you. She’s looking at you. Ya know?” Steve explained. He was entirely convinced that Nancy felt at least something more than friendly for Robin. The two acted differently around each other. “And she knows you’re a lady lover. Maybe you’re like her gay awakening or something,” he finished, causing Robin to raise an eyebrow at him from across the counter. 

“Whatever you say, Dingus.” It was clear that Robin didn’t believe a word he said. “Now, can you make yourself useful and hand me the duct tape,” she gestured to the roll that was out of her reach. He rolled his eyes as he passed it over to her.

He didn’t have the heart to mention that she was building it upside down.

_______________________________________________________________

Robin was beginning to lose her mind at a rapid rate. It was clear Steve was going to be no help in the situation as he sat on the far end of the couch, minding his business. 

The three of them, minus Johnathan, had decided to have a casual Friday night movie marathon. That was nothing out of the ordinary, except the minute Steve flicked the lights off and started ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ Robin’s brain almost short circuited. Nancy, who was previously sitting a good distance away, curled into Robin’s side like it was the most casual thing in the world. She wiggled around enough that Robin had no choice but to wrap an arm around her small shoulders. They were now fifteen minutes into the film and Robin couldn’t process anything that was happening. She knew that her body was rigid and stiff, almost like a statue, but it was impossible to relax. What was Nancy doing? Sure, they had hugged before and the occasional times they’ve had to sit closely. Nothing like this had ever occurred, though.

Nancy seemed relaxed and engrossed in the movie. Robin had been side-eyeing her. Meanwhile, Steve continued to act like nothing strange was happening. Although Robin knew that he was fully aware of the situation at hand. The asshole was probably feeling pretty smug currently. Robin would’ve thrown popcorn at his stupid hair if her arm wasn’t already occupied. Despite the growing anxiety, it felt good to have Nancy against her. The girl was warm and small enough that she fit perfectly under her arm. Nancy’s arm that wasn’t wedged between them was laying gently across Robin’s stomach. It was all so...intimate. Robin had no idea what to think of it. This was the closest she had ever been to another girl before. On top of the fact that she had feelings for said girl. 

That thought alone filled her with guilt almost immediately. Nancy was probably used to cuddling up to her girl friends like this, why should Robin be any different. The fact that Robin was a lesbian probably wasn’t even a thought in Nancy’s mind. The girl had taken the news in stride when Robin had slipped up and came out accidentally a month ago. Here Robin was, though, catching feelings for an innocent straight girl. A straight girl who was currently happily tucked into her side. Shit.

Robin stood up abruptly, dislodging Nancy and causing Steve to startle slightly. “Um, I have to pee,” she mumbled out unconvincingly before taking off down the short hallway. When she was finally locked in Steve’s small bathroom she let out a sigh of frustration. It was times like these that she wished she could just be normal. It took another few minutes to calm herself down enough but she knew she had to return to the couch eventually. It would look suspicious if she hid in the bathroom all night. 

When she walked back out into the darkened room, Nancy glanced over at her with an unreadable expression. She quietly sat back down and did her best to avoid the two pairs of eyes that she could feel on her every so often.

Nancy kept her distance for the rest of the night.

________________________________________________________________

A week had passed since the ‘Movie Night incident’, as Steve had dubbed it, and things had only gotten stranger. To Robin’s horror, Nancy had been touchy feely with her every chance she got. Such as, entwining their hands while walking or resting her legs over Robin’s in the car. It was causing Robin to be in constant gay panic mode, which was exhausting to say the least. The more it occurred, the more Steve found it entirely amusing, though. Also, Nancy was always hanging around with them at the Video store. She’d stop in and bring them lunch, even if it was just for a few minutes. It was as if Nancy was doing everything in her power to give Robin a heart attack. 

Despite everything, Robin could only feel herself falling harder for the other girl. It pissed her off. She could barely focus when the other girl was around. Currently, she was trying not to stare as Nancy walked into the store with all the kids trailing behind her. Dustin immediately made a beeline for Steve, who was stocking shelves. The others all screamed over each other about which movie to rent. Will, with his sweetheart face, gave a small wave to Robin as he passed. He would always be her favorite of the bunch. 

“Hey Robin,” Nancy greeted casually, a small smirk on her face. She wore that expression a lot now and Robin couldn’t decipher it to save her life. “Sorry for the midday child tornado. I’m dropping them off at the Byers house but they wanted to stop for movies,” she joked. Robin had to swallow around the lump that had formed in her throat and waved her arm dismissively. 

“Please, it’s been bleak around here anyway. The only person I’ve had to talk to was Dingus,” Robin responded, gesturing over to Steve, who was now surrounded by all the kids. He was probably getting ready to hand them over a movie that they shouldn't be watching at their age. Nancy let out a laugh and stepped forward until she was standing directly in front of Robin.

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Especially when I’m stuck watching Mike while our parents are out,” she spoke and then paused, leaning in a bit more. “Although, I am pretty jealous that he gets to hangout with you all day. Even if you have to deal with customer service.” Robin held her breath as Nancy just kind of stared at her with that same unreadable smirk. Before anything else could transpire between them, Max sprinted through them towards the register. The others followed behind soon after, all yelling about her movie choice. Nancy just rolled her eyes while Robin finally let air into her lungs again. The spell was broken after that as they both made their way over to the, still arguing, group.

Robin didn’t miss Steve making kissy faces at her from behind Nancy’s back. He’d seen the whole exchange.

________________________________________________________________

Another week passed by in much the same fashion. It all came crashing to a sudden halt when Nancy had stopped by the store on a Sunday afternoon. Steve wasn’t scheduled and it was just Robin watching the counter by herself. Nancy had only been there an hour before flustering Robin to her breaking point. 

“Okay!” Robin shouted, causing Nancy to startle and take a step back. They had just finished their coffees that Nancy had gotten them while talking easily. When there was a moment of silence Nancy got that smirk on her face again. The one she’d been sporting constantly the last two weeks. Out of the blue, as if it wasn’t a huge deal, Nancy leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You can’t do that! You’re gonna kill me!” Robin continued to rant. She could feel the heat rushing to her face as Nancy just stared at her with wide eyes.

“Do you…um? Do you not have feelings for me?” Nancy asked hesitantly with confusion in her voice.

Robin sucked in a breath of air so forcefully that it made her cough a little. “What!” she wheezed out, grabbing ahold of the counter. Nancy had the decency to look sheepish as she shrugged her shoulders gently.

“I sort of overheard you and Steve talking about me. More specifically that you...liked me. But now I’m realizing I’m an idiot and probably misinterpreted the conversation,” she finished, taking another hesitant step back from Robin. “Oh god, you probably think I’m a freak now.” Robin just continued to stare at the other girl in shock. “You were just trying to be my friend and I was touching you constantly. I am so sorry,” Nancy ranted while waving her hands around anxiously. It was clear she was working herself up into an all out panic attack.

“Wait,” Robin startled, holding her hand up suddenly. “You were flirting with me?” The statement caused Nancy to stop her pacing and look at Robin.

“Well...yeah. Obviously,” she gritted out aggressively and crossed her arms over herself.

“Do you have feelings for me?” Robin yelped back. Nancy just scoffed and let out a bitter laugh.

“Jesus Christ, Robin, you’re really gonna make me say it? Yes...I like you, a lot. You’re funny and caring and I just feel comfortable around you,” Nancy’s words were mumbled out but Robin caught the whole thing.

“Holy shit, Nance,” Robin breathed out in disbelief. The other girl just looked up and glared back at her. With that look, Robin realized what a dumbass she’d been and smiled widely. Before Nancy could comment on it, Robin gathered all her courage and leaned forward to connect their lips. It took a few seconds for Nancy, who was probably confused, to kiss back. They stood there kissing gently while everything else around them faded away. Robin wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, pulling them as close as possible. She could feel Nancy smiling into the kiss. 

It wasn’t until a few minutes later the sound of the door chiming broke them apart. Luckily, they were behind a shelf so the visitor couldn’t have seen what they were doing. Robin just rolled her eyes as Steve came strolling around the corner, though. Of course he’d make an appearance even on his day off. When he spotted the two of them he stopped dead in his tracks. It only took a moment for him to take note of Nancy’s blush before he smiled widely. 

“You two look like you’re having fun,” he stated. In the next second he had to dodge Nancy’s swatting hands. Robin couldn’t keep the smile off her face even if she tried.

[thesmokingguns]

Phone Tag

Word count: 3512

Requested: “My idea was that the reader thought Kelly was cheating on her on tour, and when he comes home, he finds her really upset and comforts her and assures her that he only loves her”

Requested by @littlemisscare-all

A/N: I just want to thank @littlemisscare-all for the request and letting me message her about questions I had. Kelly Nickels is a new character I’m writing and she was patient with my questions and so helpful. This is a little longer than my usual one shots so I hope you like it. I have three requests I need to write on top of my regular stuff I want to put out so feel free to make a request but I’m going to say the time might be up to a week now. I also have a tag list you can be added to by just messaging me or filling out the form. Please let me know what you think ❤️

Tag List: @thenobodies-inc , @littlemisscare-all , @agroupiewhore, @ayablackwood

Ring, Ring, Ring

The constant sound of the phone trying to connect with room 828 was filling my head. The high pitched sound bouncing around your mind as you wished he’d  pick up. After another minute of the phone going unanswered you hung up, wiping my sweat filled palms on the denim dress hastily.

You could see your fingers trembling, the anxiety of the situation coming out in physical ailment as your trembling hands started to get numb. You shook out your hands, flexing them, cracking them, pushing them together, anything to just calm yourself down enough to feel them again. Your heart was beating so fast that it felt like it had turned on its engine and got lodged in your throat when it pressed the gas. You couldn’t swallow down the pounding so you tried instead to take a gulp of air. Breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Even though you felt like you were not getting enough air when you breathed through your nose you continued anyway trying to calm your body that seemed to be fighting you.  You were trying anything to try and stop the full fledged anxiety attack from coming on.

You stepped back into the store, trying not to make eye contact with your friend and coworker as you started to fold the sweaters  on the front side table. Your hands needed to stay busy as you tried to avert your eyes from anyone, tears pooling in them. You couldn’t think about the situation or you’d start crying. But fuck, it had been almost a week since You had heard from your boyfriend. Your hand went to my pocket, pulling out the ripped out notebook paper Kelly had given you with the name, date, room number and phone number for each hotel. He was supposed to be in Phoenix in room 828 at the Hilton Hotel. Which you had already called seven times throughout the day without any response.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Your coworker touched your shoulder and you let out a sob, hands flying to your face. The feeling of someone touching you after the last month of being alone was too much. You broke feeling the loneliness blanketing over you, covering you. Your coworker was leading you to the breakroom, thankful no one was in the shop to see you have a complete mental breakdown.

He had promised you that you would talk every day; he had seen the nervous look in your eyes when the guys talked about the tour. All the girls that would be throwing themselves at the band. They were all about the three fundamentals: sex, drugs and rock n roll. How were you going to compete with something you weren't there to see?

“Jesus Fucking Christ, where the fuck is that paper?” Kelly was tearing apart the tour bus looking for a yellow piece of legal paper that you had written down all the numbers to call you on. He had lost it a week ago after he had drunkenly started a shot game with Phil that night and that had proved to be a horrible mistake.

When he had woken up, on the kitchen floor of the tour bus, a hangover so bad he wanted to fling himself into the highway all he could think about was calling the person that he loved and telling her about his night. The sound of her voice coaxing the hangover out of him and filling him up with the love she had for him. He had pushed himself off the floor, grabbing his cigarettes from his jacket and digging in the inside pocket for the list of numbers, but the paper was gone.

It had been six days since he had lost the numbers and as much as he tried to remember a phone number he couldn’t even think of one. He had expected a phone call to explain everything but the problem was that phone call had never come. This was just another layer of frustration that Kelly couldn't figure out. For the first few weeks of the tour he had gotten the calls at the hotel but a night before he lost the number the call hadn’t come in.

So now, being the very logical, even headed, and not complete maniac that he was, Kelly was tearing apart every single part of the tour bus. Ripping open trash bags, pulling apart beds, and crawling under the table that had a weird sticky substance underneath. As he pushed half drank beer cans aside he saw the flap of yellow sticking out. His heart leapt to his throat as he snatched up the paper, flipping it over and groaning audibly. The paper had gotten saturated. One number was partially visible with only a couple numbers melting together.

Walking off the tour bus he headed over to the payphone, setting a handful of change on the metal bottom as he started to dial different combinations of the number hoping that he could finally reach his girlfriend. Hoping that her lack of calls to him didn’t mean they had broken up or what if she had met someone else? She did have that fucking girlfriend who didn’t like him. What if she had gone out to The Roxy and met someone else?

He gripped the paper so hard in his hand as the phone rang and he thought of you with someone else. He needed to talk to you,

You were walking home, unable to work as your mind went a million miles a minute. Your heart thumping so loudly that your own thoughts were muted and just scenarios were popping in your head. Images of Kelly with his arm around another girl, disheveled hotel rooms with discarded clothes, his lips worshiping someone else's body. You stopped on the sidewalk closing your eyes, fists tightening as you told yourself not to scratch your arms. It was all in your head. This was all in your head and not real.

Another shaky step towards your apartment. Your eyes were on the payphone at the end of the block and you figured you could try one more time to call the hotel. Maybe when you heard his voice it would put out the fire of your mind. He could calm your anxiety, easing you from the panic attacks it caused and draw you in with the safety of his voice. He must have known how crazy you were going and when he finally talked to you he would have a logical explanation for why he had disappeared.

As you convinced yourself that he was going to answer this time, you could feel the burning bile in your gut start to be put out as the rational part of your mind tried to make a little room for you to have hope. The way your hands trembled as you took out a dime, sliding it into the slot and dialing the number, let you know that the temporary band aid your rational side had put on your anxiety wasn’t going to stick for very long. If Kelly didn’t answer it was going to be ripped off and you’d be left with the exposed wound that you would need to deal with..

Ring...Ring...Ri-

“Hello?” your heart caught in your throat, and you could feel your eyes widening as you heard a voice answer the phone on the other end, “Hello, is anyone there?” The very female voice that was answering the phone was not your boyfriend.

“Kelly?” his name left your lips, almost a whimper. All of the worst situations that you imagined could be happening in your head seemed to come to life now. It wasn’t just in your head, a woman was answering his hotel phone.

“Ohhhh, they’re in the shower. If you call back in an hour-” you hung up the phone. It took you four tries before you could get the receiver on the cradle because the shaking in your hand was running through your entire body now. You tried to crack your fingers, a weak attempt to get some control of the motions of your body.

In the shower. If he was taking a shower at 4pm what was he washing off of himself? Who was the girl who had answered the phone? Had he not answered because he had been so busy with her all day? You dry heaved in front of the payphone, sucking in air when nothing came out. You wanted to go home and hide, burying yourself under blankets until the weight of the sadness lifted. Not that you were sure it was ever going to lift because you had just caught him cheating on you.

It was a miracle that you made it to the apartment. You dropped your keys twice, your hands not working how they were supposed to. Your grip on them slipping and letting them fall through your fingers. Had you let Kelly fall through your fingers?

You hissed out a curse, shouldering into your apartment and locking the door behind you. You were off of work tomorrow so you could stay holed up inside the apartment for at least twenty four hours before anyone would think to call. That gave you time to wallow in your emotions and feel everything you needed to feel.

Looking around at the space it dawned on you that you would need to leave. Separate your things and get out of the city before he comes back to it. Which didn’t give you enough time at all because he would be back in two days for the LA show at the Whisky a Go Go, Where were you going to live? Maybe you could find a roommate or you could always stay with your best friend. She would let you in. There was so much to do and so much to figure out but you needed to lay down and figure it out from the comfort of the bed.

On the way to the bed you tripped over the phone you had kept beside it for the past few days hoping for Kelly to finally call you. You looked at the phone hanging off the hook, knowing if anyone called you they would just get the busy signal but you didn’t hang it back up. Kelly was too busy in some hotel room with a strange girl and he hadn’t bothered to call you in a week anyway. You needed to just get in bed and mourn your relationship. You’d move out tomorrow and start a new life without him.

Kelly hung up the phone, looking at his apartment phone number that the girl at the shop had just given to him. He had missed you by twenty minutes and from what he had just heard you were in bad shape.He sucked in his bottom lip as he dialed the home number. He would explain everything to you as soon as he had you on the phone. He could already picture you asking him if he had at least won the drinking game.

“What the fuck?” He looked at the phone when he got the busy signal. It had to be the right number. He had repeated the number twice to make sure that he got the correct number and now he was getting a busy signal. He dialed again, getting the same alert sound. Then again. And again. He stopped after constantly calling for ten minutes to take a breath. He was going to need to have a beer and try again.

He tried calling twenty minutes later, an hour, three hours, and before he went on stage for the show. His mind was thinking of how you could be on the phone for that long. He frowned as he grabbed his bass going over to the band's manager. He needed to get home sooner than the tour bus would take him.

You got out of the shower, wrapping your sweater around you over your nightgown. Your eyes skimmed the apartment where you had spent the last four hours cleaning like a maniac and separating everything. Your records were in a milkcrate by the door, along with a trash bag of all your clothes. Things like pots and pans didn’t seem worth fighting over. You would leave those for him. Even though you weren’t even sure if Kelly knew how to fry an egg.

Twirling a piece of hair around your finger you tried to calm the uneasy feeling filling you. He had been the one who hadn't answered your calls or called you. He was the one who had a girl answer the phone in his room. He wanted you to leave but he didn’t want to see the hurt he caused by telling you it was over. Your friends had all warned you about dating a rockstar so it wasn’t like you could expect much sympathy from them. But you had been with Kelly for over a year and hadn’t seen it coming. It felt like you were blindsided. To love someone so much had really just opened you up to the pain you were feeling now.

Moving to the bedroom you looked around the room, the pit of your stomach turning in sadness as you thought about this being the final time you sleep in this bed. The tears boiling up and tumbling down your face as you sat on his side, touching the pillow that he slept on. You could smell his aftershave and scent on his pillow just making you cry even harder. The feeling in the pit of your stomach growing as you missed someone who was gone.

Over your tears you didn’t hear the sound of the front door opening. You were wrapped around a pillow mind racing in a thick fog of all the reasons you weren’t good enough. Why couldn't he love you? Could anyone love you?

“Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” Arms were wrapped around you. You were being pulled onto a lap, hair pushed away from your tear stained face.

“K-Kelly?” It comes out weekly, almost afraid you’re hallucinating arms wrapped around you, fingers touching your tears, pushing the puddles that gathered on your skin with an expert flick of a thumb.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. What happened? Why are you so upset? Who do I need to fight?” He was trying to defuse the situation with humor to drag you out of your hysterics. But he was the one that had gotten you to this place.

Sitting up you pushed yourself off his lap, a frown forming on his face from this action. You could feel the way your hands were starting to go numb as you wiped your tears, knowing there was going to be a confrontation with him.

“I called you for a week, Kelly. I called all the numbers multiple times a day and you didn’t answer. You didn’t call me back.” The way he frowned at this didn’t go unnoticed by you. You took it as a sign of his guilt. He had been ignoring you on purpose. “And I called this afternoon and a girl answered from your hotel room.” He stood up suddenly shaking his head.

“No, no, no.” You rolled your eyes at his weak attempt to lie about the fact you had spoken to a girl that was in his room, “Oh fuck, we didn’t even check into the hotel today. I was on the tour bus looking for the list of numbers you had written down for me.” He was digging into his leather jacket pocket looking for the yellow paper. You were trying to process what he was saying.

“But they said you were in the shower when I asked for you.” You said with a frown, trying to process what he was saying. It would be easy to believe him, tryst him blindly and forget all the drama but there were so many things that just weren’t adding up. He produced the yellow list holding it up with the missing pieces and wet pen running into a blurred mix of ink.

“Call the hotel now. I’m obviously here with you. Maybe they heard you wrong?” He knew you needed real proof. He looked at the phone on the floor that was off the receiver, “I tried to call you today. I guess this explains the busy signal.” He moved to hang it back up.

“I called you and you didn’t answer all week and you didn’t even call me once.” You pointed out. “You’re on tour with all your horny band members and I’ve been out with you all before.” You didn’t want to ask him because you knew that he would answer you honestly. He couldn’t lie to you, even on little things he was always 100% honest. Which you had found out one night when you tried on a new dress and asked how you looked and he had told you the dress looked like a rejected extra from a Cyndi Lauper music video.

“I lost the phone numbers when I was drinking with Phil one night. It took me a week to find them on the bus.” He confessed. That story seemed pretty on par for who they were, “And are you asking if I was stupid enough to cheat on you?” At the words you went white, gripping the sheets. Kelly took in your reaction and knew that’s exactly what you were thinking had happened. “Listen, Y/N.” He moved over to the bed gripping your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs and giving him a soft smile, “I love you. Just you. And I wouldn’t do anything to ever lose your love. I spent a week trying to find a paper just so I could hear your voice. I was waiting for you to call all week, baby. Why didn’t you call me?” The soft way he spoke was melting the ice in your veins, calming you with the right touches and bringing you to the current situation happening in real life and not just in your head.

“I called you so much. I called all the hotels that you told me to call. But you never answered me.” You pointed to a crumpled up ball on the nightstand. Watching him grab it and smooth out the page of numbers.

“Oh shit.” He rubbed his chin and looked up at you with an almost embarrassed look. You knew exactly what that look was. He had made a mistake, “So, um, these hotels are out of order. I must have copied them backwards because this one.” He pointed at the last hotel you had called today. “Should have been here.” He pointed a few up and you sighed in relief. The tears still came flowing out but this time in relief, “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, baby.” He reached out, folding you to him. Your body was relaxed, allowing him to calm you with his back rubs and head kisses. Comforting you by holding you in his arms and reminding you that he loved you with his touch.

“I’m sewing my name and our telephone number into all your clothes tomorrow.” You muttered after a little while. He chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

“Next time, just come on tour with us. That way we never have to worry about playing phone tag.” You nodded your head listening to his heart beat. “We’re going to have to spend tomorrow morning unpacking your stuff. But I do respect your commitment to cut ties so thoroughly that you organized the records.” He got the laugh out of you that he was looking for. You sat up, shrugging your shoulders.

“I was just looking for an excuse to steal your Bowie records.�� You teased him. He scoffed, pulling you to lay down beside him.

“I flew back here to be with you, Y/N. The least you could do is not threaten to steal my records.” Kelly pulled you close to him. “Do you feel better now that I’m back?” The concern in his voice warmed you to the core. You nodded your head at him. “Now you know you’re stuck with me and how wrapped around your finger I am.” You sighed out softly, eyes heavy as you felt like you could finally get some sleep after having a week of anxiety dreams and panic attacks preventing you from getting more than a tossing turning sleep for the week.

“Maybe next time send me a postcard to let me know you love me.” You said through a sleepy haze.

“Maybe I’ll train carrier ducks to send messages. Or learn how to do smoke signals.” A smile slipped out as you cuddled closer letting him lull you to sleep with his soft touches and soft mutters. He loved you, you could feel it. And that was all you needed

[casnextdoor]

Water Fountain

Pairing; Hoseok x Fem!Reader

Summary- Three times he tried. Then three turned to five. He was one of your favourite seven, so he knew you wouldn't lie. But you didn't pick, up not even at nine. Hours too long to reach ten twenty five, his feet hurt, his hair was a mess, but maybe he could try you one more time. - written by @deepseavibez 🥺🥺

Genre- Angst

Warnings- Mention/heavy illusion to date rape drugs and sexual assault, Mention of Alcohol consumption, Explicit use of the word ‘Rape’, Very angsty, warnings will be added as I go on because this is only the first part.

A/N- This was beta’d, but it has been added onto after she read it. This story is a work of fiction. This is not based off of real life stories or real life experiences. This story is strictly for awareness. There isn’t enough of it. A lot of people don’t thinks about the the victim or the people around the victim after their assault. The recovery time after something so traumatic is long and grueling and painful. That being said, please pay attention to the warning of things like this trigger you.

“The handle will be broken and the rust set in. But my hand, it will be open and I’ll try to fix it” - Alec Banjamin, Water Fountain

———————————————

The clock on his wrist read ten twenty-five. His feet began to hurt from standing so long and his hair was in disarray after three hours of fussing with it while he waited; its once gelled position above his forehead had now been demoted to a deflated fluff on the top of his head.

He’d called. Three times. All three times your phone rang a few times before abruptly being sent to voicemail.

Hey you’ve reached y/n. If you’re one of my seven favorite boys, leave a message at the beep. If you’re anyone else, just… don’t.

Four times now. He was worried that something had happened to you. That someone or something had hurt you. That was the only logical explanation for why you wouldn’t be answering his calls or texts. He wasn’t aware of the brown liquor sloshing in the depths of your stomach or the fact that someone else was caressing you and feeling you up from behind in some dark hotel party.

/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\

Your legs hurt. Your thighs were sore and a sharp pain ran through the entirety of your lower region everytime you even moved.

Everything hurt. Everything was blurry. Something was dripping down the inside of your leg which you hyper focused on so you wouldn’t lose yourself in the sea of people. The sudden intrusive idea of a phone thrummed against your skull. Phone. Phone? Where’s mine?

You could feel your hands sliding up your body in search of your phone. Up your stomach, over your breast— wait, there it is.

Your phone was haphazardly stuffed into the confines of your bra. Did you put it there? Was it supposed to be vibrating? Why do phones vibrate? Phone calls. Who’s calling?

Your hands gripped the side of the phone as you glanced quickly at the time on the top of your screen. Ten thirty.

You slid your thumb across the bottom of the screen. The screen immediately started counting the seconds.

“Y/n? Baby? Where are you? Why’s it so loud?” Was it loud? You weren’t sure. You didn’t know where you were or how you got here. You felt gross and the urge to take a hot shower was eating at you. Wait. Baby? Hoseok.

“Hobi? Hi, bub. Um… I don’t really know where I am. Or how I even got here. Can you come get me?” Your words were slurred and he could hear the beginnings of a panic attack.

“Can you find a familiar face for me? Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” You could hear the faint sound of a car door closing and the loud revving of an engine— you always did love your boyfriend’s car.

Your eyes searched through the crowd. You were surrounded by strange faces and Hoseok could hear your breathing pick up— wait. Is that… Taehyung? Yes!

You pushed and stumbled through the sea of people, clinging your phone to your chest— as if it’d bring Hobi to you quicker.

“Hey, Y/n! What’re- hey, hey you okay?” You only shook your head and handed him your phone. He stared at you for a second, watching you burrow yourself into his chest.

“Hello?” He pulled you closer to him protectively, noting the way your hands shook as you held onto him.

“Taehyung? Ah thank goodness. Can you tell me where you are?” Hoseok was zipping around the campus in a circle, looking for any sign of your group of friends.

“Hyung? What's going on?” Taehyung’s heart broke at the way you clung to him. Your body was shaking and tears were welling up in your already glossed over eyes.

“I don’t know, Tae. Something is wrong with my baby. Can you tell me where you are and check her out for me?” Taehyung closed his eyes, the alcohol slowing down his brain. It took him a moment to even remember the name of the street they were on, but he got it.

“The hotel party right off campus… she looks fine-“ The trail of blood dripping down your legs from up your skirt caused him to pause his sentence.

“Hyung, do you remember if she was on her period?” He’d whispered into the phone, not wanting to startle you up when your breathing had just finally slowed.

Hoseok hesitated to answer. You just got off your period two days ago. He’d remembered that because you’d called him the moment you learned this, begging him to take you to the beach. ‘No tampons or pads, no sand in my privates, dude. Duh.’ He’d laugh if his heart wasn’t racing at the moment.

“She just got off Wednesday… Tae?” It was quiet— or as quiet as it could get with you and Taehyung being at a party.

“She’s bleeding, hyung…” If Hoseok hadn’t been listening carefully, he might’ve missed it.

“… She’s a virgin.”

/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\

When Hoseok arrived, Taehyung was waiting outside of the hotel building, with you practically koala clinging to his side.

Before Taehyung could blink, Hoseok had scooped you up from him and cradled you closer to his chest.

He had heard stories. And watched shows— the amount of Criminal Minds episodes you’d put him through was borderline criminal— but he’d never witnessed it first hand. He was familiar with date-rape drugs and what people his age would call “Roofies” but it was a totally different ball game when it was up close and personal.

He’d noticed a few things when he’d scooped you up. One — the blood on your leg had dried into stains that’d he was sure you’d spend a lot of time scrubbing at. Two — your skirt was backwards, the zipper that would normally be sitting on the small of your back was brushing against your belly button. And three — you didn’t even smell like alcohol. Your normal smell of cocoa butter and vanilla had been washed away and was replaced by the foul smell of sweat and stale cologne, but there was only a faint smell of what he recognized immediately as whiskey. But it was just that; faint.

Those weren’t the only things he’d noticed and the more he looked you over, the hotter his skin got. It took a lot of practiced patience for him to not go up to that room and put his hands on every male in the vicinity. For now, his only concern should be getting you to the hospital.

“Are you coming with me or staying?” His words dripped with the acrid stench of impatience and what only Taehyung would recognize as fear.

“I’ll go with you. Can’t let you go through this alone.” Taehyung watched sympathetically as Hoseok placed your unconscious form in the backseat of his car. Taehyung could already see how lost he was. He could already smell the desperation, and for a second, he wished for Jimin to just appear out of thin air. Or Any of his hyungs. He was at a loss in this situation and he’d give anything to not be.

The ride to the hospital was tense. Hoseok had spent the better part of his time in the car tonight blaming himself for everything. For global warming — if he just dropped the sunshine-y disposition— For the long days and especially for your terrible night.

You’d argued earlier that day. He had been offered an opportunity to study abroad. And you wanted him to take it, but he wasn’t willing to leave you and you weren’t willing to leave home. It’d been like twirling in circles around the topic for hours before you finally left. He’d texted you sometime later, requesting you meet him at the old rusted water fountain you’d had your first kiss by after senior year homecoming.

But now you’re in his backseat, dead to the world. All because he couldn’t just find a middle ground. Maybe this is the push you needed to leave for abroad with him. He grimaced at how morbid that was. He just needed you to be alright.

/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\

When they’d reached the hospital you were almost immediately wheeled away from and the further away you got, the tighter his chest felt.

He stood next to Taehyung as he explained vaguely what he knew about tonight and what could’ve happened; it honestly was all based off of how well he knew you, he didn’t have a single clue about what happened to you.

Hoseok’s face was stoic as he listened to the nurse explain general procedures of handling this situation. Flushing out the alcohol blah blah blah, testing you for different drugs blah blah blah. But then he heard rape kit. Rape kit.

The two words played on loop over and over and over again. Then one faded. But the other remained.

Rape.

His baby. His Y/n. The one who cooked him breakfast this morning. The one who picked out his shoes for the day. The only person he could really see clearly. The only person who could really see him.

His knees gave out under him, dropping him into a puddle of despair and desperation.

Hoseok couldn’t remember the last time he prayed. Or thanked god for anything. But he was praying now. He was begging god as tears clumped onto his lash line.

Please, god, he muttered, I need her to be okay.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Poison: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"What is food to one is to others bitter poison." - Lucretius

Cases involving children are never your strong suit. The last one with Billie Copeland was just so hard, you’re not sure if you can be involved in another one--that is until you learned what this case is really all about. Yes, there is a child involved, but the bigger picture has a much larger scale than children.

You have to remind yourself that you need to focus on the case and not on Spencer. It shouldn’t even be a hard thing to do, but something happened between you two when you took him to the bookstore right next to your apartment. After checking out a couple of books, and after Spencer had read virtually all of them, you decided it was kind of late and that you needed to get home. The store was closing very soon anyway, so Spencer opted to walk you home.

When you got to your door, he decided to give you a kiss on your cheek, but you moved your head at the last minute. He accidentally got the corner of your mouth, and that messed up his whole thing. Based on his reaction to your mouths almost touching, you know he can’t be that interested in you. If he were, then he would have just kissed you right there and then. Instead, he stuttered a goodbye and left.

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. Does he like you? If so, then why won’t he just kiss you? If he doesn’t, then why does he agree to go on these dates with you. Whenever you two go out, you clearly state that this is a date, and he doesn’t say anything that dismisses that idea. Sometimes, you just wish you knew what was going on inside that big brain of his so you can dejumble it and tell him what the fuck is going on. You’d do it now, but you have a case that needs your full attention.

Apparently, a man and his son were driving down the road one night when the father pulled to the side of the road and got out. He walked into the woods, the son followed after him, and the father beat him almost to death. The son is in the hospital undergoing critical care while the father is in the psych ward. You’re not sure how it happened or why, but you know that it did. Hotch and Gideon got hold of the interrogation video sent over by the New Jersey Police Department.

Detective Hanover is the person who is going to be in charge and is also the person who you will be working with the entire time you’re in Jersey.

“State trooper took this before the paramedics showed up,” the detective says and shows Jack Fisher, the father of Eric Fisher, a picture of his unconscious body. “He's unconscious and has four broken bones. He's gonna be in the hospital for a month.”

“I didn't hurt my son,” Jack sighs.

“Do you remember removing the tire iron from the trunk?”

What, he used a tire iron? You gasp softly and put your hand to your mouth as you continue to watch.

“No! No!”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“I picked Eric up from school on Friday, for the weekend. Who would do this?” he cries softly.

Hotch ends the video there and addresses the entire briefing room.

“This happened two days ago in Beechwood, New Jersey. Mr. Fisher had ingested LSD one afternoon and didn't come down until eighteen hours later.”

“The hospital reported six other patients who ingested LSD in the last twenty-four hours. The hospital called the CDC, then the CDC called us,” JJ finishes.

“So, a bunch of people got spiked. What makes it a BAU case?” Derek wonders.

“They each received ten to twenty times the normal dose.”

“That’s enough to kill a small child,” Spencer informs.

“Or cause a grown man to try and kill him with a tire iron apparently,” you sigh.

“Of the seven victims, there was one death and one coma. This is from the hospital's security footage the same night Fisher lost it,” JJ explains and uses the remote to put a different video on the screen.

It’s of the hospital that is in complete chaos. People are shouting, pushing, yelling, and apparently, having seizures. One man is on a stretcher, and he’s clearly on something. The doctors around him try to push past the madness of people to get him to a room while the nurses have their hands full of scared and angry patients. This wasn’t a spike or an overdose…

“These people didn’t get spiked. They were poisoned,” you reveal.

“Of the seven victims, Gail Norman was the only death. She was seventy-eight. She ran out into the middle of the road, and she was hit by a car. She was DOA,” JJ reveals on the plane ride over to New Jersey.

You’re sitting next to Spencer in one of the seats that are super cramped so that they can fit four of them in on either side of a small table. You’re sitting by the window, so essentially, Spencer is blocking you in. He’s not a big person, but because you have romantic feelings for him, it feels like a fucking trap.

“The other potentially fatal case is nine-year-old Brittany Canon. She fell out of a treehouse and fractured her skull. She's in a coma, but the doctors don't know if she's going to come out of it,” Hotch says.

“How do you wanna handle the press?” Gideon asks the liaison.

“We still don't know how these people even got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics. It'll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet.”

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Derek wonders.

“None of them remembers anything about the day it happened,” you say and gesture, but your hand brushes up against Spencer’s leg.

You blush and mutter an apology, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He looks at you and blushes as well, but he is better at hiding it than you are.

“These people were so messed up; it's made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victim's steps.”

“So, we need to go on precedent. We know there are four types of poisoners who target multiple victims,” Gideon starts.

“There's the true believer--the political terrorist/religious cult. There's the extortionist--the product tamperer that holds the business hostage in exchange for money. The prankster--it’s usually a younger offender who doesn't mean any harm, and it's basically just a big practical joke to them. Then we have the avenger--someone with a personal vendetta who chooses poison as their weapon,” you explain the different types of offenders.

“We need to find out as quickly as possible which type he is. Because with the exception of the prankster, all these types commonly test their poison on a small scale before appearing at a larger attack.”

“Then, let's hope this one was just a prank,” Derek scoffs.

"I suggest we split up the victims and see if there's a pattern to the victimology,” Gideon suggests.

“Most of them are still in the hospital. I'll call local PD to meet us there,” Hotch confirms.

“I'll check the lab reports. Maybe there's a clue to the unsub's motive in the specific nature of the poison he used,” Spencer calls dibs.

“I can't imagine anybody could want this to happen.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll head to the hospital with you. The kid may not be able to tell the doctor anything, but I certainly can. I’ll be able to see what really happened if his mother allows it.”

“Good,” Gideon nods once. “We need all the answers we can get.”

The hospital is buzzing with panic, fear, sadness, and grief. Many people are dying in this hospital, and to someone like you, you’re not sure you can be here for much longer. Hotch, Gideon, and the rest of the team don’t really understand how this all affects you. Normal people like the ones on your team see this hospital for what it is. They see people grieving and people crying, but they allow themselves to be separated from their emotions. They can walk into a loud crowd and tune out all the conversations and emotions without even thinking about it.

Not you. You’re completely different.

You walk into a crowd, and you’re overwhelmed by not only the physical sensation of people all around you, but your mind is also crowded. Your mind goes into overdrive as it inspects each person to make sure they are not a threat. To make sure that they are who they say they are. A normal person can see a kid walking down the street and not know they are kidnapped while you are able to determine that.

You walk into this hospital, and every single emotion of every single nurse, doctor, patient, and family member immediately go to your shoulders. Someone can be dying on the very top floor, and you’d feel how sad their family members are as they watch their beloved ones slip away. There could be someone in the next room receiving bad news, and it’ll be like you’re receiving the same news. It’s not fun living with your abilities, and you’ve caught yourself wishing it would all just end. However, you think about everyone you’ve saved, and it somehow all makes it okay.

“Detective Hanover, Beechwood PD,” the detective that was on the surveillance tape introduces himself to you, Gideon, and Hotch.

“Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Gideon and Agent Y/L/N.”

“Thanks for coming down on such short notice. The doctor said he may have permanent brain damage. I've never seen anything like this,” he sighs and looks at Eric, the little boy who was beaten by his own father.

“Well, let's hope we can help him.”

“Have you had a chance to review the victim's files?”

“We're especially interested in talking to the boy's father,” Gideon says.

“We'd like to get a sense of why he turned violent while the lab analyzes the specific nature of the LSD he was dosed with. we'd like to get our own sense: was it the drug itself or was there something else going on? Hopefully, that can give us a little bit of a window into the motive of the offender,” Hotch explains.

“He's in the psych ward.”

“Well, we'll keep it short,” Gideon replies.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet up with you two. I’m going to talk to the mother,” you offer, and Hotch just nods.

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[tibby]

a lot of things that happened in #Old2021 but the part i can’t stop thinking about is like. okay. so. there’s two seven year olds on the beach and because everyone ages one year every thirty minutes on this beach they become teenagers within like four hours. and during that time they become friends because that’s how kids are but then their parents are like “where are our children” and so they call them over from where they’ve been hanging in the beach tent and the little girl is now played by that actress from sharp objects and little women and also she’s teen pregnant. so everyone starts freaking out and amma preaker is like “i just had a big lunch” but then she goes into LABOUR because her entire pregnancy only lasted like twenty minutes. so they’re all trying to deliver her child and the other kid who is now played by nat wolff who is apparently a fifteen year old in this says the incredibly bizarre line of “it only happened once. i thought you had to do it like ten times or something.” and then the baby is born and beth march’s milf mom who has soggy bones disease and is now a grandma starts walking over to meet the newborn baby and we’re watching her like limp and then the sound of the baby crying suddenly STOPS and everyone’s like oh shit....and then one of the other people #GettingOld is like “we put the baby down for less than a minute...and it died from lack of attention” because seconds are like days on this beach. so the baby fucking DIES and the gilf goes off to become a cavewoman and ELIZA SCANLEN THAT’S HER NAME goes off to cry about her dead baby and nat wolff comforts her and takes the baby corpse in its blanket out of her arms AND DUST FALLS OUT BECAUSE THE BABY HAS ALREADY DECOMPOSED. and so eliza scanlen is like “i’m getting out of here” because whenever they try to leave the beach they all black out and wake up back on it (this is never explained btw). so she starts climbing a cliff to try and escape and everyone’s like omg...she’s doing it...meanwhile nat wolff is having a fucking panic attack. and then she loses consciousness while near the top of the cliff AND FALLS TO HER DEATH and everyone besides nat wolff is like damn that’s crazy. she was seven six hours ago and now she’s a dead teen with a dead baby. and then they just don’t mention the whole fiasco again. movie of the century.

[whump-town]

Lie to Me

Chapter Two

Warnings:

Chapter One

It’s not as bad as it looks.

Derek Morgan stands in place, his right hand coated in a drying layer of the foaming pink blood Hotch had choked up. He’s staring ahead, eyes growing an unfocused haze as his body and mind struggle to keep pace with all that’s just happened. No nurse has stepped in to remove him, medical staff simply navigate around him. It’s violating, it feels like he’s being given a front-row seat to a trauma no one’s supposed to witness. Unmoving, he’s unable to look away. Tears start to cloud his vision but someone has to stay. Someone has to see.

The catheter that they use to suction his mouth is clear. The tubing long and spirally, the room’s occupants able to see the sea foam blood leaving Hotch’s lungs. He’s sat up on the stretcher, shirt cut-off in a long simple swipe. Left to be packed into a bag, the once white fabric speckled in pink. There’s a cloth against the upper section of his chest, catching drool and blood that the doctors miss with the tube hunting the corners of his mouth. Hotch heaves, producing nothing from his empty stomach than acid and thin, soft pink spit. He twists away from the catheter, sucking in wet wheezing breathes. Sounds like he’s breathing through a straw, waterlogged and thick.

A nurse directs Derek closer to the bed with a hand on his bicep, her kind words of encouragement going over his head as he pulls his shell-shocked body closer to Hotch’s. That whispered, useless comment bursting through the space between them. It’s not as bad as it looks. Derek finds that incredibly hard to believe, no matter how neatly they wipe Hotch’s mouth and rid the space of blood-tinged rags.

He’d sat in the ambulance for ten minutes listening to Hotch choke on blood. Heard the EMTs warning the hospital about a pulmonary aspiration, watched them debate intubating Hotch while he was still conscious enough to writhe on the stretcher. Trying to pull his body away from the steady hands placing an IV, to sit up and get away from them. Derek could do nothing, had been forced to

It’s not as bad as it looks. He’s assured, taking the thin, uncushioned chair at Hotch’s side. Close enough now to see the pink of Hotch’s dried blood on the side of his cheek. To hear the wheezing breathes he’s taking, quick and shallow. His eyes dart underneath his eyelids, fingers jerking as he struggles to find comfort trapped between awareness and the bliss of unconsciousness.

One week after his diagnosis he had a panic attack. Not the sort he could hide, as he’d hidden many, but suddenly just the full force of his life hitting him centerfold and buckling his knees from underneath him. Jessica had Jack in the kitchen, the two of them laughing as she made fun of his inability to cook. Jack eagerly agreeing, lacing light accommodations in their mix to make him the butt of their joke. Thoughtful and grounding. He listened to his son try and recount at least one meal he hadn’t ruined by burning it. He’s gotten way better at cooking but for a few months, they survived off of chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese (that he could never get the shells to soften entirely), and frozen vegetables. Off of the kindness (and off fear) of Dave and Penelope bringing pre-cooked meals over. Things he could keep in the freezer and just stick in the over.

He’d tilted his head back against the wall, laced his fingers through the strands of the carpet, and held on. Tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. Listened to Jack sticking up for him, “it wasn’t that bad” Jack pouts. And he’d managed a shallow smile, still choking on punched breathes leaving his parted lips. He’s Haley’s son, through and through. The only people who have ever stuck up for him -- even in the face of his awful cooking. Jessica found him on the floor twenty minutes later. Old tears drying on his face and new ones still dripping down from his eyelashes. He told her the truth when she asked what was wrong, took his burden, and brought her down with him. He held her as she cried into his shoulder and then he cried when she asked him to stay, not to leave her. She’s so tired of losing her family and he cracks a smile, thinks an awful little stabbing joke about how he’s the reason she’s lost her family. Haley. Her mother to a heart attack three months after Haley died. Now him, his own body betraying him.

It’s not that bad, he promises but all he can think about is his father. Lung cancer at fifty-three and dead by fifty-four. He’s only fifty but he’s still repeating the story.

We’ll do it together, she assures him but he’s already made sure that’s not an option.

“He’s so cold,” JJ whispers. She’s the only person who can stand to get close enough, who can penetrate the heavy sickness in the room to take his hand. To hold his stiff, cold fingers between her own. She looks over her shoulder, expecting someone to say something but finds them all in the distance. Unable to fully enter the room. Pressed to the walls. Eyes counting the tiles on the floor and making up the ceiling. JJ frowns sadly at them, not surprised but disheartened. She warms his hand between her own, trying to rub warmth back into the cold digits.

Jessica comes into the room, a storm of movement and noise that throws the silent contemplation of the room off. She looks around herself, frowning at the collection of them before rolling her eyes. She knows of the team intimately. For years she’s been listening to Aaron come home and talk about them and she’s grown to know them by means of her own exchanges as Jack gets older. They’re Aaron’s family and Jack’s other aunts and uncles, naturally she’s interested in them. That isn’t to say she isn’t annoyed with them. For the willing ignorance in Aaron’s rapid health decline. In the ways that they chose to appease Aaron rather than help him, can’t they see how much it is to make him happy with their ignorance rather than annoyed with their care?

“Derek,” she’s moving things around the room. They’ll be here for a while. His oxygen saturation is too low and his breathing is causing some mild concern that he might develop aspiration pneumonia. With his temperature still low he might be safe but even then they’re things are not magically better. “Will you please get his heated blanket out of that--” she points to the bag and nods when he goes to the right one. “Thank you.”

She takes control of the room, of the movements they make. Who stays when and who goes where.

He’s sleeping, probably will be for a while.

Around the third week of chemo, he started to understand the doctor’s warnings about fatigue. That, yeah, he might feel okay now and maybe he will continue to feel good for several more weeks but it’s going to catch up, and when it does he needs to be ready to ask for help. His current workload is by no means healthy and hardly sustainable for a healthy person, he’s going to have to make adjustments.

He’d started to feel the fatigue but not creeping in as he’d thought. One Wednesday morning he woke up feeling like he’d gone out drinking the night before. The sort of night Emily’s in charge of, where he wakes up in weird clothes with a haircut Emily gave him in the bathroom. It’s Wednesday, though, and his hair is intact. An awful headache and no amount of sleep were able to bring him to life.

His hours at the office got smaller, falling asleep at the desk and on the couch. He leaned to the explanation that he was just getting older. One sly comment about the grey creeping into his hairline spread unevenly and no longer contained to his temples, and he knew they were using the same safe answer. Making the journey from his office for coffee became a mental battle. He needed twenty minutes to prepare himself. Standing too quickly makes him nauseous. The chemo seemed to make every moment of the day, every complex thought, and all foods cause his stomach to twist threateningly.

Saline dripping above his head, oxygen hissing around his ears, and the warmth of overlapped conversations around him. He feels vacantly removed, left out of a loop that he can’t even tell what’s happening. Prying his eyelids open his hard, resolve weak and body too heavy. Weighed down, rocks tied to his hands. He can feel himself being pulled down through the stretcher. He can’t make his mouth work properly, lips parted in a hoarse groan. “W’as wrong?”

Jessica hears him, sees him waking up. His fingers twitching on the bed and his head lifting up off the pillows, searching for something without opening his eyes. Jessica decides to let someone else handle it, looks over the top of her book, and makes it clear.

Dave moves first, pen sliding into the pages of his book as he sits it down. He squeezes Aaron’s hand, smiling at the groan that leaves his mouth. “Shh, now,” Dave encourages. “It’s alright. It’s nothing, go back to sleep. You’re okay.” His response is another groan, slivers of brown iris’ finding him. “Back to sleep, Aaron.”

Hotch turns his head, “don’.” He pulls his hand back, agitated. He rubs the back of his hand against his nose, “not tired.”

Dave rolls his eyes, Jessica scoffs.

“Aaron,” Jessica, mercifully, leans forward to take the situation into her own hands. “Sleep.”

He groans eyes weighed down, body betraying his rebellion. “Bossy,” he rasps and Jessica just hums. She stands, smirking, and pulls his blanket back up to his neck. He does fall back to sleep, lulled under by the fingers Jessica passes across his hairline. Comforted by how tightly Dave holds his hand.

The medical staff advises and predicts a stay of about a week. They need to closely monitor his breathing for a little longer, prevent another episode from occurring. He spikes a fever and that gets him a few more days, his combative behavior doesn’t help. He’s resistant to the idea that anyone helps him and as his fever spikes it’s hard to comply to his request.

Here Garcia and Reid step back. They’re not… as prepared.

Emily doesn’t even ask when she walks into the bathroom where he’s trying to shower, talking to him about Stephanie from the third floor who was totally hitting on her. He’s shaking by the time the shower’s done, exhausted from lifting his hands up and down and from standing so long. Emily keeps talking, towel drying his hair roughly until he grumbles and then they laugh at the oddness of the situation. His hair is untamable and she gets a kick out of standing the ends up, spiking his hair into a mohawk.

Derek falls into step with him when the nurses come in to remind him of the three daily walks he’s supposed to take up and down the hall. He’s a person to lean into when Hotch starts coughing, an arm around his hips so that he doesn’t fall over. And when they wrap a fall risk bracelet around his hand Derek winces and Dave supplies “yellow isn’t your color”. Some days Derek is met with intense distance and other days they walk close, Derek’s arm already around his back, and talk about nothing, anything.

Dave brings dinner, not that Hotch is eager to eat it, but also popsicles of whatever flavor he could possibly want. He’s partial to Outshine, especially the strawberry ones, and it might not be food but it feels nearly right again to see him eating at least something. It’s a sensitive barrier, a hard line to play with knowing when Hotch just needs a little encouragement and when he just really can’t.

JJ brings movies. Her speed is action movies and Hotch is more into anything but that. So they take turns picking and usually pull punches so that the movie is something they’ll both like but when he’s feeling particularly ill, she’ll pick something awful. Give him an excuse to fall asleep during the movie and she enjoys as much, if not more than he does. An excuse to invade his personal space, cut the lights off, and lay beside him on the bed. She’ll paperwork up there, so relaxed she can zone in and out of what she’s supposed to be doing. He’ll look over her shoulder, reading case reports until he falls asleep or until she shuts the file and tosses it to the side.

These habits, these formations, do not stop when he leaves the hospital. Early. He leaves the hospital, too. Reid comes to visit on Thursday when the others are simply too busy doing other things. Resolve weakened and still shaken, Reid doesn’t last even phase one of Hotch’s plan to bust himself out of the hospital.

Derek is already at Hotch’s house, fighting Jack in the kitchen as they search through the fridge that Garcia’s just packed full of food. She feels ill-equipped to deal with everything, despite having known the longest. She feels guilty. She should have said something long before he got this bad, to the other’s so that they’d know, or to Hotch so at least he could ask her for help.

“Daddy!” Jack jumps up from the floor, running straight to his father before anyone can advise against it but Hotch withstands the collision, beaming down at his son. “I missed you.” Jack wraps his arms around Hotch’s hips, face pressed into his stomach. “Do you wanna help me put my puzzle together?”

They’re livid that he left but they don’t take it out on Reid. Emily won’t speak to either of them but she’s just too mad to hold a conversation. Derek helps him back to his room, Jack hot on their heels. It actually makes Hotch feel worse, being home and still unable to do things the way he wants. They get out of his hair a little more, there isn’t the same guilt associated with his home as the hospital.

It gives him a lot of time to think.

And he finds himself thinking about his father.

No one but Jessica knows the full story of his childhood but they’ve seen him shirtless too many times, know him too well not to have pieced at least most of it together. It’s not his best-kept secret.

He had been the kid that sat in the back of the class. Who never raised his hand, eagerly dancing in his chair, jumping at the chance to prove himself by means of validation from his teachers praising his correct answers. If they were reading aloud, rest assured he’d never have his name spoken by another classmate -- no one ever called his name and giggled in glee at his shocked and annoyed face like they did with one another. He couldn’t be certain they even knew it.

Logged with secrets of his short life, managing only the barest glimpses of life behind his dark eyes, he’d lurched and crawled his way to graduation. No more than a lifeless corpse dragging its reanimated form up and down the halls in its familiar pattern. Showing no signs of spontaneity, neither pain nor joy. Grey and slow.

It hadn’t mattered the silent prayers Hotch sent by way of hushed whispers just under his breath, Haley’s head tucked just under his chin, and the soft wisps of her hair moving with each puff of his breath. No matter how Hotch worked at integrating Jack quickly into as many social situations as possible, he had raised his son to be just a little bit too much like him. There are glimpses of Haley in the things that Jack does. Befriending Paul was leaps out of Hotch’s introverted ways and, more surprisingly, Jack’s.

Jessica’s sage words of frequently repeated wisdom disagree -- “he’s exactly like you, Aaron. The messy hair, that look he makes when he’s doing his homework… that’s all you”.

The little cowlick at the back of Jack’s blonde hair hardly speaks of anything more than Hotch forgetting to run a comb through it in the morning. Perhaps some validity points in favor of his paternity, after all it’s nearly the same cowlick he has. Neither one has tameable hair once it gets longer than an inch. Which does not leave a lot of stylistic options.

“Do you like the dinosaurs with the -- with the spiney -- What are they called?” As carefully as Derek had instructed him to be, Jack sits up by his father’s head. He’d crawled into the bed without invitation, he gets by with a lot these days, and Hotch can’t find it within himself to put those boundaries up between them right now. Jack curls up on his side, head on his father’s chest and a Triceratops staring at Hotch.

It had taken a year for cancer to kill his father and he knows that they’re right, he’s not the same as his father. His father smoked, heavily. Drank frequently and always too much. Didn’t have any friends -- and he finds himself snagged on this difference. Even as Derek throws his son up in the air, hauling Jack over his shoulder and making him shriek with laughter. As Penelope tries new recipe after new recipe of his favorite foods in the hopes that he manages to eat at least one. Not angry, not once, when he picks at the food the others shovel into their mouths. Singing her praises. Emily dragging him around on walks, slowly her pace to accommodate him. She never asks if he needs to stop, just does.

He has friends but sometimes he forgets.

“Daddy,” Jack pulls him back into the conversation. “Can we go to the museum? Uncle Spencer said there are dinosaurs everywhere.”

Hotch nods, “I can ask Uncle Spencer to take you.”

Jack shakes his head, sitting up, “I want you to take me.” He would have never demanded a thing from his father. Never once considered asking for something. Sean was allowed these luxuries, begging to be taken to a game or to the park. Jack pouts, leaning forward and tucking himself up against his father. “We can go Saturday? I’ll take a shower the night before, I promise.”

He’s been hospitalized for four days and Saturday is only two days away, it’s not enough time to recuperate. Not enough time to feel like himself but he can do it. He’ll invite Reid, it’ll provide a great distraction for them both, and that way there’s someone else to focus on. It’s just the museum.

“Okay,” he caves. “On Saturday.”

He’s got a family, people who can trust and who need him just as much as he needs them. He’s going to be okay.

[agerefandom]

Restrained

Fandom: Death Note

Words: 4,150

Characters: Regressor!Light Yagami, Caregiver!L/Ryuzaki. Brief appearances from Soichiro Yagami, Shuichi Aizawa, and Watari.

Summary: Set during Light and Misa’s imprisonment (episode 16-17). Classification/Regressors Are Known AU: Light was classified as a regressor when he was fifteen, but has fought the identity ever since. L is classified as a caregiver, but has never used those skills further than calming people in interrogation situations. Things come to a head in the second month of Light’s imprisonment.

Warnings: Imprisonment, irresponsible use of restraints, mentions of death and murder, nightmares, panic attacks, involuntary regression, hidden regression being revealed non-consensually. Ominous ending. 

Author’s Notes: I usually take issue with Classification AUs, because regression is a coping mechanism and not a fixed part of someone’s identity. Regression can change, and regressors can also be caregivers, and the idea that it could be ‘classified’ as part of someone’s political identity is kind of distressing. All of that said, it’s also a very comforting trope: it’s nice to imagine that you were ‘meant to be’ a regressor, naturally given that role, and that there are natural caregivers who want/need to take care of you. So, there are pros and cons to this kind of universe, as long as you remember that it’s an AU for a reason! Anyways, that’s my soapboxing done. Please note the warnings before reading! 

Light was not a regressor.

It didn’t matter what the letter he received at age fifteen said. Didn’t matter that his age range was listed as ‘2-3’ and a permanent caregiver was recommended. Light Yagami was a neutral, collected, and precocious teenager. He was mature for his age, and always had been.

Admittedly, Light occasionally sucked his thumb to help him sleep. And he convinced his mother to buy him more expensive sheets because he liked to run his hands across the texture. And maybe he cast side-glances at the adult playgrounds all around the city, at the regressors who were happily running and playing on the swings.

But Light Yagami was not a regressor. He got top marks. He wore stiff, professional clothes. He didn’t cry, not even when he stubbed his toe. He turned his nose up at sweet drinks and packaged candy. In short, at seventeen, Light was a model young man.

Which was when the notebook fell outside his classroom window, and everything got a lot more complicated.

--

Could a regressor do this? Collectively bring the world to its knees, the news outlets humming with one story? Could a regressor kill hundreds, save the general population from the evil in its midst?

Light Yagami was Kira, and Kira was not an age regressor.

--

Light Yagami was not Kira.

Light was trapped in a cell, his arms shackled behind his back, and he was absolutely certain that he wasn’t Kira. What kind of idea was that, marching in and saying he thought he was subconsciously Kira? Absurd. He wouldn’t do that kind of thing.

He yelled at the ceiling, pleaded with Ryuzaki, and received cold answers in return.

How had Light sat here for a week, believing that Ryuzaki had been right to lock him away? It was absurd: he couldn’t have committed the murders without knowing at all, it just didn’t make sense.

“You told me to keep you in there, no matter what you said,” Ryuzaki repeated calmly, his voice crackling through the cheap speakers outside of Light’s cell. “I’m only doing what you told me.”

“Well, stop!” Light shouted, tugging uselessly against the leather cuffs that held his arms behind him. His shoulders ached from the position. “Listen to me now, I’m not Kira!”

“We don’t know that,” Ryuzaki said. “Until we can be sure, you will stay in that cell. I’m sorry, Light.”

Light felt tears well up in his eyes, and he jerked his head down to hide it. With his bangs hiding his expression, he tried to wrestle himself under control.

He felt scared and helpless and he just didn’t understand what he was doing here. Let me out! a voice was screaming inside him, younger and just as frightened as he was. Please, I can’t take it anymore!

What was he thinking? He was Light Yagami, part of the taskforce dedicated to catching Kira. He could withstand this. He would have to.

He didn’t bother to hide the tears as he raised his eyes again to the camera.

“Fine. I’ll stay. But you’ll see that I’m not Kira! I don’t know what’s happening, but I believe that my innocence will be proven one way or another.”

“That’s exactly what Kira would say,” Ryuzaki drawled into the microphone, and then there was a short sound of feedback as the conversation cut off.

Light rocked back to lean against the side of the bed, feeling exhausted but satisfied. He’d made his statement, and he had fought off the despair. He was Light Yagami, and he would deal with this imprisonment with all the dignity he could.

--

This was awful.

Light had never been so bored and anxious in his life. The days stretched on, with only Ryuzaki’s occasional check-ins to keep his mind busy. Out of lack for other things to do, Light started sleeping more than usual. His days were hazy, short bathroom trips out of the cell and the clatter of the food tray his only reference points for time. The lights shut off for seven hours every night, the cameras equipped with night vision to watch him toss and turn in his restraints.

There was nothing to do but ruminate, worry, wonder. Light tried to run through lectures in his head, even tried his hand at mentally writing a story. He wondered if he could convince Ryuzaki to play chess with him over the speaker system, but found himself worrying about whether that would make it seem like he wasn’t taking his imprisonment seriously.  

It had been a month, and Light was suffering.

The nights were hardest. In the dark, Light cried, trying to stay quiet. He couldn’t bite his thumb, he couldn’t feel his soft blankets, and sometimes he couldn’t sleep for the tug of the restrains at his wrists and shoulders. He wanted to kick his legs, flail around, scream at the top of his lungs until they let him out. But he was Light Yagami, and he had dignity. Even with cameras fixed on him twenty-four hours a day, even with his wrists and ankles contained, even under the constant scrutiny of Ryuzaki and the other members of the task force.

He almost made it to the end.

--

Things that Light didn’t know:

-it had been a month since Kira had begun killing again -his father was in a matching jail cell, several blocks away -the task force had been pressuring L for weeks to let Light and Misa go, convinced by the new wave of murders that the two were innocent -L had a plan, and was simply waiting to contact Light’s father to play his part

(Light would never know most of these things, because before they became relevant, everything fell apart.)

--

L sat in the same place he’d been sitting for weeks, watching the same scenes play out on the same flickering screens. Misa sagged against her restraints, Light laid curled up on the bed, and Soichiro sat in his chair, staring down at his hands.

Nothing had changed, but everything was different.

Light and Misa were Kira, or at least they had been. L had never been more certain. Now they both seemed utterly convinced of their innocence, and L wasn’t comfortable with the implications of that. Were they truly ignorant of their role? Had their ability to kill been passed onto someone else, or had the two of them been unwitting puppets to some new and yet-unseen player?

Misa took a struggling breath, and went limp again. Light shifted. Soichiro got up and began to pace. His cell would fit eight of his steps before he had to turn around and begin again in the other direction.  

L missed nothing. But the pieces weren’t coming together.

He tapped his fingers against his knees, a syncopated rhythm as his eyes flashed from one prisoner to the next. Watari had brought him a plate of fruit, not yet touched, with icing sugar sprinkled over them. They would make L’s fingers sticky, and he didn’t want to get juice on the controls. He would have to eat with one hand, and operate the microphones with his other. He was just about due his check-in with Misa-Misa.

Just as L began to reach for the berries, a movement on-screen caught his eye. He didn’t currently have the audio on for the cells, but from the visual, he would guess that Light just woke up screaming. L has had a few of those nightmares. They weren’t pleasant.

L switched the audio on, and listened to Light trying to calm himself down. He was talking out loud, a mutter only loud enough for the microphones inside his cell to pick up on. (Light always yelled to the camera when he was talking to L, as if he weren’t aware that the cell was bugged well enough to hear every last breath he took. They could take no risks with Kira, when they still didn’t know how he was committing the crimes.)

“I’m okay,” Light was muttering. “Don’t… don’t do this. I don’t need anything. I’m okay.” His breathing caught, paused, and then resumed. “I’m okay. Please, please- don’t.” His voice was trembling, and L leaned closer. He’d seen Light crying, of course, trying to hide it by turning away from the cameras. But this seemed… different. Light was on the edge of something, and if L was lucky, it might be some kind of confession, fuelled by a terrible dream that brought all of his crimes rushing back with the sudden weight of guilt that Kira never felt.

Yes, L had enough self-reflection to know that he was kidding himself. But it had been a long month and a half.

He remained crouching, one hand poised above the plate of strawberries and the other hand hovering above the microphone that would let him speak to Light. And he listened.

“I don’t wan’ do this,” Light whispered to himself, his words slurring together in a way that L had never heard from the other man. The distressed voice hooked its claws into his chest in a way that was both foreign and familiar. Was this… “I don’ wan’ do this,” Light repeated, and then burst into tears.

It wasn’t anything like the quiet, hidden tears of the night-time. Light was sobbing, pulling at his restraints, tossing on the bed. Unable to wipe them away, tears and snot made a mess of his face. L watched as the teenager struggled to his knees and pressed himself against the wall, as if he were trying to get some kind of comfort from the pressure. The tears wouldn’t stop, even as words started making their way through the sobs.

“Lemme out, I wan’ out, I can’t, I can’t. It’s too dark, I can’t. Please, I’m too… I can’t feel my hands!” Light wailed, collapsing in on himself, his shoulders straining against the cuffs.

L was dimly aware that his hands had dropped to his sides. He knew he was staring. He knew that Aizawa had come running to stand behind him, alerted by the cries coming through the speakers. His ears were ringing, and he could feel Light’s sobs in his own chest.

The truth was unavoidable: Light Yagami was a regressor, and L had not known.

How was that possible?

Light was registered as age-natural on his official documents. L had watched him for weeks, and he had shown no signs of regression, not at home when he was unaware of being observed, and not here in the prison cell. Until now.

This was a harsh involuntary regression, from the looks of it, and the part of L that had made them stamp ‘caregiver’ on his own documents was aching.

“Oh my god. Is Light a regressor?” Aizawa said behind him. “That looks like regression, right?”

“It isn’t on his file,” L said, pleased that his voice sounded even. He hadn’t been around a regressor in distress for a few years, and he’d forgotten how much it made his chest hurt. Knowing that he’d been the one to put Light in that situation made it worse. Rationally, he knew that Light being a regressor meant nothing to the investigation. In fact, it made L even more certain that he was Kira. To conceal his headspace that thoroughly, even under investigation, made it clear that Light was no ordinary teenager. That must have taken an immense amount of willpower and planning.

“You have to let him out,” Aizawa said. “You can’t hold a regressor in a place like that, and his innocence has already been proven.” Light was still sobbing, his harsh breaths providing an undercurrent to their conversation. “Ryuzaki, you can’t possibly let that continue.”

“I… think he knew this might happen,” L realized. “This is what he meant when he asked me not to let him out, whatever happened. He knew that he would regress under the pressure.”

“All the more reason to release him! He still doesn’t know that Kira is killing again, it’s not fair. You’ve put him under way too much stress. Let me talk to him.” Aizawa reached for the microphone, and L struck his hand away.

“No. The last thing he needs is more sensory input from the speaker system.” Aizawa recoiled from the physical interception, eyes wide. “And you could jeopardize the investigation,” L added, slightly belated.

“You can’t do this. I’ll call the rest of the team,” Aizawa threatened, reaching into his pocket.

“There’s no need for that,” L sighed. He knew that the rest of the team would agree with Aizawa. The legal system was more lenient for regressors, and keeping them in solitary confinement was widely considered cruel. “I’ll go myself.”

Just because Light couldn’t be held in the cell anymore didn’t mean that L was prepared to let him go without twenty-four-hour supervision. Luckily, he had a set of unusually long handcuffs that he’d already been prepared to use after Light’s release. He could just speed that process along… and tell Watari to order some more regressor-friendly accessories for their room, of course. Maybe pad the cuff that Light would wear, so he didn’t accidentally hurt himself.

L shook his head, pushing his chair back from the table with a sigh. His caregiver mind was getting in the way again. Light was Kira, regressor or no. He wasn’t keeping Light close so that he could take care of him, but so that he was unable to hurt anyone else.

“We’ll discuss Misa’s release when I return,” L added over his shoulder as he headed for the door, reaching into his pocket to call Watari with the car. Light’s prison was a short drive from the base, and the sooner L got there, the better.

--

Sure enough, the drive was agony.

L stared out the window, the seatbelt Watari had forced him to wear digging into his chest and disrupting his thoughts. He was trying to make plans, trying to think back to all of his interactions with Light and wonder if he should have known. Was that why Light had always sharply refused any kind of sweet drink, even something as simple as fruit juice? Was he afraid that he might slip into regression? Was that why he had been crying at night, quietly regressing just enough for his childish fears to come to the surface? How confused was he, how disoriented in the cell? He seemed to know he was trapped, but did he remember what he was accused of?

L barely noticed when the car came to a stop, but when Watari opened his door for him, it took genuine effort not to go running into the building. Instead, L moved even slower than he usually would. Each gesture would be planned. Each word intentional. Just because Light was a regressor, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. L had to be on his guard, even more because of his natural caregiver instincts.

He made his way down the cold concrete stairwell, Watari a few paces behind him. Hands tucked in his pockets, breathing slow and natural. No worries about what he might have missed in the two minutes he’d been away from the screens. Had Light hurt himself? Was he safe? Was he still crying? L should have brought water, he’s sure to be dehydrated-

They stepped onto the cell block, and L had a brief conversation with one of the guards to obtain the keys. He’d already texted ahead, and they knew to expect him.

Watari stayed behind, just within earshot as L padded down the line of empty cells to the one that held Light.

It was strange to see the cell in person. For the first time, L could see the camera that Light had shouted at so often. He could see the details of the walls more clearly here, the chipped tile of the bathroom corner and the scratches in the concrete that didn’t come through on the long-distance video feed.

And there was Light, curled into a ball on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms still tied behind him, much in the same position that he had been napping in before his nightmare.

L had approached soundlessly, and Light’s eyes were closed. He didn’t open them until L put the key into the lock and turned it.

“N—no, I don’t-” Light stuttered, and then looked up. “Ryuzaki? Ryuzaki!” He tried to get up, but the cuffs on his ankles made him stumble and fall. L heard his knees hit the concrete with a harsh crack, and Light teared up again. “No, no, don’t come in. M’sorry, don’t come in.”

“I’ll let you out of the cuffs,” L told him, his hand on the door but waiting to open it.

“No, I don’t want it,” Light managed. “Just… go.”

“Light, how old are you?” L pressed.

Light made a sound that resembled a squeak, and very slowly raised his eyes to L’s.

“How old are you right now?” L asked again. He watched Light’s expression twist from surprise to embarrassment to conflict, then Light started crying again.

“I don’t wanna be,” Light sobbed. “I don’ wan’ it.”

And there went L’s chest again, twisting and aching with the sound of a regressor in distress. He regulated his voice, unwilling to let it sound too caring. It came out flat instead.

“There’s no shame in regressing, Light. Two percent of the population isn’t an insignificant number. You’ll be more comfortable with your arms free.” Light shook his head, tears flying with the gesture.

“No! Don’t come in!”

“How old are you, Light? You’re young, I can tell that much. Probably in the toddler range, if I had to guess.” From Light’s glare through the tears, L had hit the nail on the head. “I thought so. Stop fighting me. I was going to let you out soon anyways.” Well, L hadn’t been meant to say that. But he could probably use that to his advantage.

“But… but you think I’m Kira,” Light mumbled. Interesting: he did have his full memories, then. Very little disorientation for such a young age range.

“I do,” L admitted. “But the taskforce doesn’t. They want you back on the team.”

“Me?” Light blinked up at him, and his eyes were even wider than usual, framed with perfect dark lashes, and L was in agony being separated by bars. This regressor was going to be the death of him. “But… I thought the bad things stopped ‘cause I was here.”

L was fascinated by the limits of Light’s mental reasoning while he was regressed. He would have to do some experimentation at a later time, but for now…

“I lied. Kira has been active for almost a month. I wasn’t convinced it meant you were innocent, but it makes a good case.” L watched that news hit home, but in a very different way than it would have hit an adult Light.

“You lied? Why? I thought… I thought I was bad, maybe, but you were lying!” Light tried to wipe his tears on his shoulder, only partially succeeding. “I don’ wanna know why. Probably a good reason, ‘cause you’re L and you do all the good things.”

Hmm. It seemed that Light’s certainty that he wasn’t Kira didn’t extend to his regressed self. Perhaps he was speaking more candidly in this headspace.

“I’m not fond of unnecessary cruelty,” L sighed, hooking one hand through the bars. “If I had known, Light-”

“You never woulda had me on the task force,” Light said, quite viciously. “Never ever.”

“That’s not true.” L traced one thumb against his lips. “I’ve known regressors who are exceedingly intelligent. Everything would have proceeded the same.”

“Even though I’m three?” Light asked, and L fought the urge to smile. Information, at last. Three. He stored that away.

“Even though you’re three,” L confirmed. “Your input is valuable to me. In fact, I would like to invite you back to the taskforce after you’ve recovered from this imprisonment.”

“Yes!” Light shuffled forwards on his knees, wincing at the movement. He probably bruised them earlier when he fell. “Yes, please! I wanna help catch Kira! And all the bad guys!” His eyes were shining with excitement and the tears from earlier. Looking down at him, L’s mind caught in a loop.

Light Yagami was Kira, but this… this was not Kira. What that meant about Light, or Kira, or the nature of Light’s regression, L couldn’t say, but he was certain of one thing.

“Can I come in now?” L asked.

Light visibly hesitated, then sank back onto his heels and nodded.

“Thank you.” L left the keys in the lock as he swung open the door and entered, making his way to Light briskly. It was easy enough to get the cuffs off his wrists, and Light whined when his hands were free, struggling to move his shoulders back into a natural position. “Give it time,” L advised, pressing at his spine with experienced fingers. Massages were one of his lesser-used skills, but easy to pick up with his wide knowledge of the human body. “They’ll hurt less in a few minutes.”

He wasn’t expecting Light to shift forward and wrap his arms around him, but that was exactly what happened.

L froze, his hands raised in the air as if in surrender. He’d comforted regressors before, at crime scenes and over interrogation tables. A few of the children at the orphanage were regressors, and he interacted with them when he visited. But none of them had dove into a hug like this. L was a detective, a mentor, a little too strange and intense to be approachable. Now there were arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly, and L didn’t know what to do.

Falteringly, L returned the embrace, the tips of his fingers resting lightly on his own forearms. Light had lost weight over the last month, and his body felt almost frail against L.

“Had a nightmare,” Light whispered.

L wondered if Aizawa was listening, back at the base. He wondered if Watari had wandered closer, after hearing the cell door open. He wondered what kind of things Kira dreamed about.

“Do you want to talk about it?” L asked, and didn’t lean back from the embrace.

“It was bad,” Light said. “I was running, and there were hands, and a fence, an’ there were… bodies. On the fence. And they were… they were…” L could feel Light shaking, and he held the regressor just a little bit closer.

“Just a dream,” L said. He wondered how much blood was on Light’s hands, how much of it he remembered. “You’re safe now. It was just a dream.” L held Light in his arms, the ache in his chest finally fading as he looked down at him. There, the regressor was safe, and L could finally relax. Light’s breathing slowly evening out, his grasp on L’s shirt finally loosening. “You’re safe.”

Light blinked up at L sleepily, and then his eyes slid closed. A natural reaction to stress, and having a caregiver close by. Even if L hadn’t disclosed his classification, his actions combined with Light’s instincts had likely made it clear. L cradled Light in his arms, like a puzzle piece fitting into place, and watched him fall asleep. He would have no more nightmares with a caregiver so close by, and even if he did, L would be there to calm him down.

L knew that this was trouble. Light was Kira, and Kira was death. L’s instincts as a caregiver could only blind him further as he continued in the investigation. If he were being rational, he would attach Light to someone else for the rest of his surveillance period. Prevent the caregiver/regressor bond that had been formed between them from strengthening into something difficult to break.

But L didn’t like being rational. He followed his instincts, and they were always right.

Right now, his instincts told him two things.

I will not let go of Light Yagami.

This will be the death of me.