#i have lots of medical professionals near me that can answer your question its like a free consultation lol my friends do it all the time

[dragpinkman]

everytime i see skincare morning routine whatever videos on pinterest im like damn you guys are ruining your enamel

[hakkiest]

Sorry to ask but I read your bio and searched your blog but since you don't tag it I didn't find anything. Just wanted to know what you meant by "anti psych"? because I definitely am against psychiatry, I just wanted to know what it entailed for you as well (if it includes psychology, ...) Feel free not to answer! <3

Hey there, anon! Nothing to be sorry for at all, this is a very valid and important question! I hope I can answer it well.

Anti psych means different things to different people. On the most basic level, it means being critical of psychiatry, psychology, its implementation and effects. For some, this means being actually against it on a fundamental level, while for others it means acknowledging its flaws but otherwise supporting it. I fall somewhat in the middle, at least right not - I have at one point been fundamentally against it, but not anymore.

My criticisms of psychiatry and psychology are mostly these:

1- I don't believe psychology is a field of medicine like the others. It is necessary, but the personal bias and the subjectivity of it is much higher than in other fields. Pretending it isn't is infantile and futile.

2- Psychological training in most countries and regions is severely lacking, and as such professionals are much less qualified than they should be. This worsens point 1.

3- Both psychiatry and psychology have been, and still are, often used as covers for abuse and neglect. Not enough is being done to change this.

4- The legacy of psych is infinitely more negative than positive. This is not sufficiently known or acknowledged.

5- Mentally ill people are treated like shit by the institutions and people that are supposed to help them.

6- Relating to points 3 -5, we would need a major, and I mean MAJOR, reform, expanding theory, practice, institutions and worldview, to actually make psych more good than bad

My anti psych beliefs are based on my experience being a patient of psychologists long term since I was a kid, being an inpatient at a psych ward multiple times, working near mental health institutions, having been to psych school, having friends attending psych school and working in the field, knowing certified psychologists and psychiatrists, having talked to other mentally ill people, some of them other psych abuse survivors, and studying and being informed in medical bias and the horror stories surrounding psych.

That being said, I still think psych helps a lot of people, it helped me at times, and I do take medication so I'm not like a fervent psych hater.

Hope this answers your ask, anon!

[lailannajacobs]

Heart of the Night

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky finds you after a mission that didn’t quite go as planned. 

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: lil bit angsty 

A/N: This is my submission for @wkemeup​​ 9k challenge, it’s not quite as edited as I would have liked but the end of the school year is always super busy so here it is! Congrats Kas, you are such an incredible writer, your talent absolutely blows my mind, it’s just unbelievable and I hope one day to have a tenth of your skill! You deserve everything great and more! <3

The needle trembled, metal glinting off the fluorescent light in your bathroom as it hovered just above the skin of your abdomen. The air reeked of copper. The pristine sink was marred with the dark red streaks of failure. You tried to swallow, but it felt like you were choking on your own throat. 

The needle approached the bloody canyon made by a knife you’d been too careless to avoid, and hovered there, trying to find its mark. The world swayed. You’d lost too much blood already. The needle clattered into the sink, black thread trialing behind it like a broken tether. You were somehow conscious — delirious? — enough to think you were lucky it hadn’t gone down the drain because you didn’t have time to call a plumber. Wait no. You’d just have to get a new one from the cabinet. You tried to reach for the needle. Your body didn’t react. Instead, it swayed dangerously, only your fighting instincts keeping you from tumbling to the floor by gripping onto the edge of the sink. At least there were some things blood could wash off from.

“YN!” that familiar voice burst into your apartment, “pool table. Five minutes. I swore to Sam that this was the day we finically beat Vision and his perfect calculations.”

You swore at the joyful ness in his voice. You couldn’t match that tone right now if you tried. But you had to. The mission had gone well. You’d done what you’d set out to do. Only you, the ever-present failure, had gotten yourself stabbed along the way. The only mercy was that no one else had noticed and you’d disappeared to your apartment without drawing suspicion. That was, until now if you couldn’t pull yourself together. You willed your body to close the bathroom door, but it wouldn’t move. If anything, everything only spun even more.

“Where the hell are...”

You felt his presence in your doorway. Felt his gaze like a physical thing. You were always aware of him. Even now was no exception. Maybe if you pretended he wasn’t there, he’d go away. Right. And the three-inch gash in your stomach would stitch itself up. You turned your head, not realizing how many abdominal muscles it took to look over your shoulder. Your pride and the death grip your slick fingers held on the porcelain were the only reasons the spinning didn't send you tumbling to the ground.

When your bathroom came into focus again, the only thing you really saw was Bucky taking up most of the doorway. And he was seething. His normally cool eyes were raging hurricanes, framed between hard lines of frustration on his face. They scanned you from top to bottom with deathly calm, from the sports bar you had on that exposed all your skin and the bruises you garnered during the mission to the sweatpants you’d changed into. An X-ray would have been less intrusive. You shivered. It was probably the blood loss.

You wanted to make up some excuse for your failure, but his anger was justified. You were a liability on the field. They were bound to have figured it out eventually.

He said nothing as he stalked over in a few brisk strides, fury emanating from him in waves. He stopped beside you, the pleasant smell of his freshly showered body chasing away the tang in the air. You closed your eyes. It was a coward’s move, but you’d take any peace you could get before everything you’d worked so hard to keep got taken away from you.

“Sit,” he ordered in a low, almost growly voice, “now.”

You went to sit on the toilet but tipped backward before you could make it. His arms gathered around you, easing you onto the closed seat. Your head lolled back and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“No.” He decided, “I need an explanation. Talk to me.”

It seemed like too much work. All you wanted to do was go to sleep.

“No,” he ordered as if you’d spoken the words aloud. Maybe you had.

You opened your eyes, caught in the crossfire of his icy stare, “Hydra agent during the extraction.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

The extraction of the French Prime Minister had been more than an hour ago. You should have been stitched up a long time ago. You should not have been dripping on the pale bathroom tiles.

“Surface wound,” you continued as professionally as your body would allow, knowing that even though you’d live, your failure was the reason for his fury, “came here. Was in the process of fixing it.”

“We have medics,” he growled, “what were you thinking?”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t about to tell him how your presence was a poison that would likely get them all killed eventually. Or that your constant mistakes were your own consequences to deal with — to fix. He probably knew that all ready. His question had to be rhetorical.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if he were trying to steady his anger. You stared at him, the winter soldier kneeling before you, his calloused hands still resting on your hips. He let out a sigh, his breath warm on your stomach.

“I should call for a medic,” he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, “I can take care of my own mistakes.”

His lids snapped open, piercing blue eyes pinning you to the spot with their ice cold intensity. He was obviously still pissed. But he didn’t call for a medic. Instead, he got up, warm hands leaving behind nothing more than goosebumps and shivers — from the blood loss, of course— and picked up the needle.

“This is going to hurt,” he murmured once he was kneeling in front of you again.

You tried to nod, but the motion sent your vision spinning again and you gripped onto his shoulder for support, the metal sturdy beneath your grip.

He looked up into your eyes, “are you sure you want me to do this? It’ll leave a scar and it won’t be pretty.”

“It’s only fitting,” you coughed a laugh, “at least the outside will start looking like the inside.”

His brows furrowed but he didn’t say anything. He knew what you were. You were a mutant who somehow got the ‘gift’ of being able to make anything stop functioning. You could make plans fall apart. Kill a software program. Stop a body’s functioning. Even ruin a functioning team like the Avengers. With skill, you should have been one of their greatest assets, ruining everything that threatened the world. But your ‘gift’ extended to yourself as well. You ruined everything you touched. Even the good. Especially, it always seemed, the good.

He pierced your skin without warning, but you were glad for the pain. It gave you something else to focus on than the echoing thoughts of your failure. But Bucky was gentle. Despite the anger you knew must still be there, his movements were delicate and focused, hesitating whenever you winced or sucked in a breath.

By the time he tied the knot, you were surprised you were still upright. He might have been efficient, but you couldn’t tell if it had taken seconds, minutes or even hours. His hands cupped your face and eyes you hadn’t realized you’d closed fluttered open. He was so close now, his expression pinched with worry. You couldn’t help but wonder how it could be for you.

“I’m almost done,” he said softly, “but you’ll probably need a transfusion.”

Adrenaline kicked in. You couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not when you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Please don’t take me there,” you begged, “I can’t hurt anyone else.”

Your abilities rarely activated while you were asleep, but you wouldn’t risk the lives of the other patients or the doctors by going down to the medical wing. Years ago, when you’d realized what your abilities were, you’d stopped sleeping anywhere near anyone else. Now, hurt, there was an even greater chance you might lose control.

If you hadn’t been working so hard for consciousness, you would have also told Bucky to leave. But it wouldn’t have mattered. For some reason, he always stayed. Even when he was within the radius of your power. Even when you told him to go. Especially then. He always stayed.

“I won’t hurt anyone else,” you choked out, “I always hurt someone else.”

His thumb brushed across your cheek, “and yet you saved me today.”

You looked away from his burning gaze, your tears threatening to spill.

He continued, mercifully ignoring your watery eyes, “even though you were hurt you dropped that Hydra agent before he could shoot me in the back. We didn’t lose a single agent today, YN. That’s because you were there.”

“No,” you tried to shake your head, but his hands held on tightly, “they — you — saved yourselves. I got stabbed.”

“You got stabbed because you were busy watching everyone else’s back,” he growled, that earlier anger returning.

“I ruin things,” you repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

But it didn’t matter. He never seemed to believe you. But he needed to. You desperately needed him to before you ruined him too.

“Please leave,” you whimpered.

His answer was simple, “No.”

He took his hands back, but it was only to find some gauze to place over your cut. Once he was done, he scooped you up so gently the movement only hurt a lot instead of blinding pain and brought you to bed.

You gripped his shirt, fist balling up at the hem with all the strength you had left, “you need to leave, Bucky. Now.”

For some reason, the bastard smirked, “Someone has to make sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

“I’ll be fine,” you snapped, though it lacked any kind of force.

He didn’t look impressed, “If you were fine you wouldn’t be begging me to leave. You’d be downstairs with me and we’d be getting our asses handed to us by Vision and Sam like every other Thursday night.”

You wanted to protest. You wanted to protect him, but you had no fight left in you. And with the plush mattress calling you to sleep, the world went dark before you could figure out a way to get him to leave.

“All right Destructo, show me what you’ve got.”

You weren’t a fan of the nickname, but you weren’t about to tell the Tony Stark to shut up and use your real name. And anyways, as much as you hated using your abilities, and how you were always overcome by the tidal wave of fear that sent fear rolling like waves throughout your body, you always felt better — healthier even — after using them. And he was giving you free range now.

Eight suits surrounded you in a perfect octagon, hands out like they were ready to strike. Tony had somehow altered his suits so that they’d shoot bubbles — of all things — instead of small blasts and said you’d only be alive if you managed to take them all down before a single bubble came out.

A small grin unwittingly made its way onto your face.

“Glad to see you’re having fun,” Tony remarked, “it’ll come in handy for future testing. Ready?”

You nodded and ignored the bit about future testing. They might have thought they wanted you now but after they saw how much of a curse you really were, they weren’t going to keep you around long enough for future testing. You prayed that day wasn’t any time soon.

But you were ready now. That was until Tony’s voice crackled through the intercoms once more, “just make sure you don’t kill anyone of us in the process. I’d hate to miss Taco Tuesday.

You lifted your chin, “Give me thirty seconds with the enemies and you’ll have your taco.”

“Such confidence,” he remarked with a chuckle.

It was false bravado but you wanted this. You wanted out of your hell hole. So you weren’t about to let him see any of the very real fear that you actually might kill him. in the process.

You let out your power in a giant blast.

You bolted upright, gasping for breath. Black spots clouded your vision but you forced through the waves of dizziness, looking for the one person you couldn’t bear to hurt. He was supposed to have left. Your next breath never came. Bucky’s long limbs spilled over the edges of the chair in the opposite corner of the room, his phone resting on his chest. His eyes were closed, a peaceful look on his face but that didn’t mean anything. The dead often looked at peace.

Then his phone rose and fell with his chest. You held back a sob. Your relief would have sent you tumbling if you hadn’t been sitting. He was alive.

Without your blinding panic, the rest of your room came into focus. He’d left all the clothes you’d strewn over the chair in a neat, folded pile on your dresser. You glanced over at your alarm clock for the time, which was…off. Your dread clenched it’s fist around your stomach. It had been on. So had your air conditioning unit. And where was the constant hum of your ancient refrigerator?

“They’re all fried,” Bucky’s gruff voice came through the silence as if he’d actually been sleeping, “the phone gave a nice little shock when it died. Snapped me out of my sleep that’s for sure.”

Your heart was still trying to hammer its way out of your chest when you said, “You could have gotten hurt. I don’t know how you’re not.”

“I do,” he replied simply, eyes finding yours.

“No, you don’t,.” you shook your head more than you had to, “No, you can’t.”

“I can because I’ve trained with you almost every day since you got here. I know that your gift,” you scoffed at the word but he kept going, “your gift works differently depending on who and what you’re targeting. And I know you don’t target people. Not unless you have to and even then I see that it kills you to do it.”

You looked down at your sheets, hating the way his words resonated through your body, refusing to go away. But you could still ignore it.

“That might be true, but Tony has been making his suits to withstand me. In case I can’t control my powers and they hurt anyone on our side. He might say it’s in case we meet another mutant with powers like mine, but we all know that’s not true.”

“Why can’t it be both?” he huffed then took in a slow breath. It did nothing to hide the growl in his voice when he asked, “None of us are perfect, why do you have to be?”

Because, even as a full grown adult, you were afraid you’d somehow end up back in that orphanage, unloved and unwanted because all you did was ruin things. And you didn’t know what you’d do if you ruined the closest thing you’d ever had to family. Perfect kept you here. Perfect kept you safe.

He stood from the chair, and came to kneel beside your bed. He brushed aside the hair that had stuck to your forehead with sweat, calloused fingers resting gently on your cheek when he was done.

“You’re one of us now” he whispered as if he could read your mind, “and I — we — won’t let you go that easily not matter what you think of your abilities. Even if that means I have to inspect you for cuts and bruises myself after every mission. You are good, YN.”

You could only nod, taken aback by the ferocity in his voice. Still, it didn’t stop you from looking him over head to toe once more just to make sure he was okay. Then you noticed something off with him.

“Where’s your arm?”

He ran his hand through his hair, a sheepish look on his face, “it might have fallen off a few seconds before you woke up.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “I hurt you.”

He shook his head fiercely, “you didn’t. I’m fine.”

“But I could have,” you protested.

“But you didn’t,” he said, “you never do. Because despite what you might think, you control this thing inside you and we all trust you with it.”

You were about to object but he stopped you by pressing a light kiss to your forehead, and when he pulled back there was that lopsided little grin on his face that made you realize how light headed you were feeling, “one day we’ll get to a place where you’ll find this funny. I promise.”

And somehow, you believed him.

[peterrparrkerr]

Hit mad falls in love with target - read on ao3

*-*

Peter waved frantically at Tony when he walked into the lab, eyes glued to a computer screen.

"Tony, quick! Look!" He demanded, nearly vibrating in his chair.

Tony made his way over, hands clasped behind his back as he leaned over Peter's shoulder.

"Isn't it awesome?" The young man asked, waving his hands around.

"What am I looking at?" Tony asked.

"Its cancer," Peter said. He points to different colored lines in the graph, all jagged and fluctuating. "This is breast cancer, and this one is pancreatic, skin, lung."

Tony hums as Peter continues to list each colored line as a different form of cancer.

"I was able to isolate the individual cells from everything else, and- look, look!"

Peter snatches Tony by the shirt sleeve and tugs him from one monitor to the one on the other side of the lab. He taps his fingers on the screen, bouncing on his heels.

"These are the cells after being treated with non-radioactive therapy," Peter said, looking up at Tony. "The number of cancer cells is cut in half within a week!"

Peter then drags Tony across the lab again, babbling excitedly as he does so. "Do you know what this means? This means we can start human testing! And we can market the treatment for practically nothing!"

He shows Tony a live feed of the treatment in action from a TV monitor.

"Think about the possibilities," Peter grinned. "Anyone can get treated, no matter their financial standing. And the treatment isn't as harmful as chemo or radiation. It doesn't attack the body as a whole, it isolates the cancer cells and leaves the rest of the body alone.

"No more hair loss or side effects. And we could cut remission in half too," Peter said. "Just think, this time next year, we could start selling to hospitals all over the world."

Tony smiles down at the younger man. He had known within the first day of meeting Peter that he wouldn't be able to follow through. He's glad he hadn't.

"Have you told anybody else?" He asks casually.

"Ned knows," Peter said. "And Bruce, but they were here when it happened."

"Where are they now?"

Peter gives Tony a wry smile, still too excited about his treatment working.

"I sent them home a couple hours ago," he said. "We've all been awake for almost three days, so I'm sure they've gone to bed already."

"You should be in bed too, don't you think?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter waves him off, shaking his head as he goes to his work desk. "I'll sleep later," he said, pulling his lab coat off and draping it over the chair.

He's dressed in his usual outfit; comfortable pants and a button up.

"Plus, I knew you'd make your rounds around this time, and I wanted to tell you," Peter said with a grin, grabbing his personal items.

That was part of Tony's cover. A janitor for the building Peter worked for. Hes wearing a navy blue jump suit, though he's left the cart out in the hallway.

"I'll walk you to your car," Tony hums, leading the way out. When he'd first started this, he'd offered his company to get closer to Peter -to find his vulnerabilities.

Now though, he does it because he's protecting the young scientist.

He'd skipped out with 45 thousand dollars paid to kill the boy, but as the days had gone on, and Peter had grown comfortable with him, Tony realized he couldn't steal him from the world.

Peter was incredible. He worked tirelessly to find a cure for cancer. He's already created a new insulin for diabetes that he's made available to everyone for only $10 a month -something not many other medical professionals liked.

Peter was making enemies left and right, and Tony decided to make it his job to keep him breathing. If not for the rest of his life, then for as long as it takes for the young scientist to see an end to cancer.

The boy wasn't getting much in terms of money for his creations. In fact, from what Tony's come to learn, the boy doesn't own a car, and rents an apartment with his aunt. 

He sees enough to live paycheck to paycheck and this new treatment won't do much to better his life, but he's not concerned with money. He wants to make Healthcare more effective and affordable.

Tony's got morals. Enough of them to know when a hit is a bad investment. That didn't stop him from taking his payment anyway.

The two make it to the car park. Its dark, the overhead lights buzzing annoyingly. Its empty, save for a couple cars belonging to a few of the security guards, and the car Peter shares with his aunt.

It's an older model, grey paint chipping and metal beneath rusting near the wheels. Peter talks animatedly beside him, lands flailing in front of him.

Tony glances around them, scowling as he takes in the familiar cement structure.

"Wait," Tony says, just as Peter's pulling the keys from his pocket. They're a couple feet away from the car, and the hairs on Tony's arms and neck stand on end.

"What is it?" Peter asked curiously, reaching for the door handle.

It's just as Peter grips the handle that Tony sees the wire connected to the metal lock on the other side of the glass.

Tony is quick to react, grabbing Peter by the arms and wrenching him away from the door.

Peter yelps in surprise, but its cut out by the sound of a small explosion. Tony braces for the blast of air that knocks the two off their feet, and grits his teeth at the heat that follows.

Peter's pressed against the cement, Tony weighing down on him. His ears ring, but he quickly gets to his feet, unzipping his jumpsuit and grabbing the .9 mm from the waistband of his jeans.

The car is ablaze, crackle-popping and sizzling. Its just the cab thats on fire, but Tony knows its only a matter of seconds before the flames reach the engine and the fuel line.

Tony looks around him, trying to find the culprit -though he knows from experience that the man won't be here.

He grabs Peter by the armpits and pulls him to his feet. Blood smears against his forehead and jaw. His hands and arms are scraped up and Tony can tell his knees are busted too, but it doesn't look like anything damaging.

"We gotta go," Tony urges, already half dragging the younger back towards the building.

"You-you have a gun," Peter gapes, stumbling after Tony, arm in the older's hard grip. "Why do you have a gun?"

Tony reaches the door for the stairwell.

"I'm a hired gun," Tony said, glancing up, then down, gun following his eyeline before pushing Peter towards the stairs going up.

"I thought you were a janitor," Peter gasped, climbing the stairs and swaying. Tony places his free hand on Peter's lower back.

"Thats just a front," Tony confessed. "We got to get you out of here."

"Someone blew up my car," Peter said, panting as they continue up to the first floor. "Aunt May is gonna kill me."

"Not if Buck doesn't kill you first," Tony grunted, pulling Peter out of the stairwell and into the main lobby.

Tony's car is around the side of the building, but its open to attack. Tony can't keep Peter trapped inside the building though, so he risks it.

Their feet slap loudly on the asphalt as they run for the nondescript black SUV Tony had taken to driving.

He checks around the vehicle, under and inside before issuing Peter into the back seat.

Tires screech as Tony peels out of the parking lot.

"What- whats happening? Tony, what- why do-"

"Someones trying to kill you, Peter," Tony said, blowing past the guard tower at the exit of the parking lot.

"But why?" Peter asked dumbly, voice slurring slightly as more blood turns the side of his face crimson.

"I'll answer all your questions when we're safe," Tony promised, eyes frantically shifting from the area ahead of him to the rear view mirror.

Peter must really be feeling the effects of his head slamming into the concrete, because he doesn't protest.

"Lay down," Tony orders, merging into traffic and slowing down. "Lay low until I say."

Peter does -Tony thinks mostly because of his head injury. Tony relaxes a little, knowing the scientist won't be gunned down in the back seat.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere safe," Tony answered, keeping an eye behind him.

He doesn't see a tail, but he takes a round-about way to his safe house, just outside of Queens.

When they get to the small cabin, Tony checks the building before helping Peter inside.

"I think I have a concussion," Peter mumbles, swaying on his feet as Tony guides him to the kitchen chair.

"I don't doubt it," Tony agrees, setting his gun down on the table beside Peter's elbow before grabbing the first aid kit.

He pulls another chair over in front of the young scientist and opens the red box.

"Let me see your hands," Tony orders. Peter does, palms up. Tony begins to clean them and his arms.

"Tony," Peter says, breaking the silence. Tony doesn't say anything. He reaches up to clean the blood from the side of Peter's cheek.

"Is your name actually Tony?"

Tony makes eye contact before nodding.

"And you're a hired gun?" Peter asks, slightly breathless. "Like, like a hitman?"

"Yes," Tony answers, reaching the cut on Peter's hairline. Peter winces, but doesn't pull away.

"You kill people for a living?"

"Yes."

It takes Peter a couple seconds, but it seems to hit him. Hes bolting to his feet, the chair clattering behind him.

Tony leans back into the chair, watching as Peter begins to pace.

"What- Tony, you have to tell me whats going on," Peter demands, hand on his head. Tony knows from experience that pacing tends to help the scientist expell excess energy.

"I will," Tony nods. Peter continues his pacing. Back and forth beside the kitchen counter.

"Why- why are people trying to kill me?" He demanded. "Who blew up my car?"

Tony sets the paper towels down on the table, knowing Peter won't sit still for him to properly tend to him.

"The one who blew up your car is another hitman," Tony said. "Goes by the name Winter Soldier."

"You called him Buck," Peter said, pointing an accusatory finger at Tony, eyes narrowed.

"I did," Tony nodded. "Hitmen tend to run in the same circles, though we don't always like each other. Bucky was probably hired to finish the job."

"Finish the job," Peter repeated dumbly. "I'm the job?"

Tony nods, once more letting Peter process. He knew Peter would figure it out without Tony's help. He was smart.

"Finish the job means someone already tried to- to kill me," Peter said, panting as he continued to pace. The wound at his hairline is bleeding sluggishly, dripping down his temple and towards his jaw.

Peter wipes at it without thought, smearing blood against his cheek. He pauses to look down at his hand, fingers glistening in red.

He touches his forehead again, as if remembering he's still injured, then turns to Tony, accusation and fear in his Bambi brown eyes.

"You," he said softly, in disbelief. "You were hired to kill me, weren't you."

"I was," Tony nodded.

"But you haven't," Peter said. Tony can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. "And, and now whoever hired you hired the Winter Soldier."

Tony only nods. Peter takes a shuddering inhale and has to grip the counter with a bloody hand to stabilize himself.

"I'm- I'm- who- who would want to-to kill me?!"

"The payment was anonymous," Tony said. "Thats how it works. But whoever it is is threatened by you."

Peter looks at Tony incredulously. "Me? Why me? I'm the least threatening person -like- ever!"

"You've cost Big Pharma millions with your insulin," Tony said. "You've patented it, so they can't take it and upcharge the way they've been doing. And if your treatment for cancer is a success, you'd be costing them even more."

Peter takes a moment to process that before he nods. "Right, yeah. I knew I was going to make a lot of people mad about that, but. But I never expected anyone to actually try to kill me."

"Money is a powerful motive," Tony said, a little too much experience leaking into his tone.

Peter hears it, because he stops his pacing, shoulders dropping. Exhaustion seems to pull him towards the floor like an anvil tied to his spine.

He sways a little, and Tony's about to offer him the chair again, but he moves to it willingly. When he sits, their knees are barely touching, and he blinks dazedly at his bloody hand.

Tony grabs a clean rag and leans forward to clean up the blood from Peter's head. The younger lets him, still processing and no doubt sluggish from the concussion.

"Why didn't you?" Peter asked after Tony had taped gauze to his hairline. It was patchy and poorly done, but it would help.

"Why didn't I what," Tony hummed, using an alcoholic wet wipe to clean the remaining blood from Peter's hands. The boy winces at the burn to his scraped palms.

"Kill me," he said, swallowing thickly. "You had plenty of opportunity."

Tony sighed, setting the wipes down before leaning forward and looking Peter in the eye.

"Because I believe in the work you're doing," he said honestly. "And I'm going to make sure you finish it."

Peter blinks once, twice, before breaking eye contact and sighing, body eating to melt into the chair as the air leaves his lungs.

"Come on," Tony said, standing up and slipping the gun into the waistband of his pants. Then offering his hand. "This place is safe. Theres a bed you can sleep in."

"I shouldn't sleep with a concussion," Peter said weakly, taking Tony's offered hand anyway.

"Its mild, I'm sure you'll be fine," Tony mused, heading deeper into the cabin to the bedroom.

The bedroom isn't anything special. A twin bed in the corner, a four drawer dresser and a blackout curtain.

Peter climbs onto the bed, not bothering with the covers or taking his shoes off. Tony thinks its best he sleep with them on anyway, in case Bucky finds them.

Tony moves to leave, grabbing the handle, and Peter bolts upright again, eyes wide.

"You're okay," Tony promises. "I'll be right outside."

Peter gives the barest shake of his head. "Stay here, please," he says softly.

Tony nods, shutting the door and turning off the light before making his way to the side of the bed. Theres an old step stool there, and he sits down at the head of the bed.

Peter lays back down, body too tense to ever fall asleep. Tony keeps his ears attuned to any noise that could alert him to Bucky, or anyone else, gun sitting perfectly stop on his knee, finger off the trigger, but ready at a moments notice.

"Tony?"

"Yes, Peter."

Peter shuffles around, and Tony turns his head just in time to feel pillow soft lips connect with the corner of his mouth.

He can't help but smirk as Peter settles back down. "Thanks for not killing me."

Tony chuckles at that, leaning his head against the wall. "I may be a hitman, but I've got morals," he says into the dark room. "Besides, nobody likes cancer."

Peter laughs tiredly at that before reaching his hand out and grabbing Tony's. Their fingers interlock, and Tony doesn't really know which one of them initiated it.

"You're going to be okay," Tony continued. "I wont let anyone hurt you. You're safe with me."

"I know."

[crayonwriting]

The Sakusa House

(gif credits)

series masterlist

"Hello!" "Hello!" The producer greeted. "What's your name?" "Kiyoshi!" He said cheerfully, fidgeting around the chair he was sat in. "And, how old are you Kiyoshi?" He raised the corresponding number of fingers and showed it to them. "Three!" "Oh wow, and can you tell as what is your dad's name?" "Sakusa Kiyoomi." He slid down the chair and started dragging it around, but he was still paying attention to the interviewer. "Do you like your dad?" "No." This made everyone present on the set chuckle a bit. "Really? Why not?" "I don't like him." Kioshi said this with a soft smile on his face. The interviewer continued to ask him questions. "What's your mom's name?" "Sakusa Y/N." "And do you like your mom?" "Yes!" He cheered and clapped happily. ** "I ate everything by myself instead of sharing and now I have a stomachache." You wiggled the stuffed rabbit at Kiyoshi while he was busy choosing which instrument he'll use in the toy doctor's kit you gifted him. You both were sat in his bedroom and since it was your day off before you had to leave, you decided to play with your son as much as you can. "Blow your nose." Kiyoshi said, reaching for the rabbit. You pulled it away from him. "I have a tummy ache. Why would I blow my nose?" You shifted the toy further away from him. "I don't have a runny nose." Kiyoshi stood up and pulled at your arm, successfully grabbing the stuffed animal. He cradled it in his arms and wiped around its nose. "It will feel good if you blow your nose." He mumbled softly to his 'patient' and you couldn't help but giggle, remembering that you told him those exact same words when he was sick. ** You were a medical professional, specializing in home medicine. You have been on some TV shows and news interviews that you weren't fazed that much by the cameras now installed at various parts of your house. You smiled at the interviewer when she shuffled through her notes of questions. "So, how did you meet your husband?" "Well, he was introduced to me by a friend, who happened to be teammates with his cousin." You smiled at the memory. "They just told me that he was tall and handsome,"you blushed at this, "And that he was a volleyball player too. My friend, Rintarou, is also a volleyball player." You remembered how Suna and Komori were so eager to have you and Sakusa meet, saying that since he was cautious of germs and you were on the medical field, it'd be a perfect match. "On the way to the bar where we were all supposed to meet at, they kept asking me if I didn't have any clue about him." Crossing your arms on your chest and leaning back on the chair, you recalled the conversation that night. "I really had no idea. He said that he was one of the top aces in Japan during highschool, but I wasn't into the sport at that time." Everything was actually a blur after that. You hit it off with him on that night once Komori broke the ice between you two. Before you knew it, you were already dating the Sakusa Kiyoomi. You weren't aware that he was a sought-after bachelor like his teammates at MSBY, that's why everyone was shocked when the news broke out that his heart was already taken. You dated for five years before finally getting married. And just a year later, Kiyoshi was born and there was nothing else Sakusa could ever ask for. ** "Are you sick, auntie?" Kiyoshi asked the camerawoman who was settled in the tiny house the production team set up in your living room. He leaned in closer to ask if she was sick, which she answered with an, 'I'm okay.' Kiyoshi dragged his doctor's kit around as he looked for patients. He kneeled down and stared at his toy dinosaur and asked if it was sick. Not getting any response, he moved to the other tiny house in the corner of the room where a cameraman was filming him. "Uncle, are you sick?" "No, I'm okay." "Are you sick here?" He gestured to his throat repeatedly. The cameraman chuckled and told Kiyoshi that he was fine. You were sat in the middle of the living room floor, just smiling to

yourself as you watched your son. He was petting his toy dinosaurs that were scattered around the floor. His mood suddenly turned down a bit and you wondered what was wrong. Kiyoshi looked around the room and saw his snake pillow by the mat. He lay himself beside it and hugged the pillow to his body. "Papa!" He shouted randomly. You smiled and ruffled his hair. "Where's papa, Kiyoshi? He's not home?" Just as you said this, your phone rang from the kitchen table. When you saw the caller ID, your heart skipped a little. "Hi Omi-kun." You put the phone on speaker. "Kiyoshi, it's papa." At the mention of his father, he immediately perked up and ran where you were. He raised his arms up, reaching for your phone. You handed it to him carefully. "Tell your papa to come home." You encouraged. "Kiyoshi." Sakusa said. "I don't like Papa." Your son said this with a cheerful voice. "I don't like you." "You what?" "He doesn't like you." You answered for him. You pulled Kiyoshi to sit on the couch. "You don't like me?" Sakusa's heart cracked a little, but he knew his son wasn't serious about it. "I don't like yoooou!" The three year old repeatedly sang. You shook your head at his playful antics. Kiyoomi's attitude was far from this and you wondered if you were as wild as Kiyoshi was when you were his age. "Don't say that Kiyoshi." Brushing his wavy hair away from his face, you said, "Why don't you ask papa to bring you something, hm? What do you want to eat?" Suddenly feeling playful once more, Kiyoshi ran away with your phone in hand. You chased him with small steps, asking him to slow down since he was running 'too fast'. He squealed and laughed waiting for you to catch him. "Gotcha'!" He laughed louder when you cornered him and tickled his sides. Sakusa, who was still on the phone, heard the precious laughs of his wife and son and the urge to get back home as soon as possible grew stronger. ** "Is there a reason why you decided to be on the show?" Sakusa cleared his throat before answering. "The main reason is that I want to be closer to my son, Kiyoshi." "What kind of dad are you?" Sakusa took a second to answer that, before he smiled to himself. "To be honest, I am a low priority to my child." He chuckled softly. "He loves his mom the most. And at one time, I noticed how big he was growing. Time passed by so fast and I felt like I'd wasted it." To others, three years may seem like a short time but for him, it felt like he had been absent for forever. "I felt...really bad about that. I can't call myself a good dad yet." He was fiddlimg with his fingers on his lap, before looking back at the interviewer. "I really want to get closer to him." The crew were visibly in awe at Sakusa's endearing love for his son. This was one of the rare times Sakusa really made an effort to answer questions in an interview. Who knew the stoic Sakusa Kiyoomi was a big softie? "How will you describe Kiyoshi?" "He's very cheeky." Sakusa chuckled. "He always stops and greets the people he sees and he'd wait until they greet him back. He's also cheerful and I'd like to think he's smart." He nodded at the thought. "He learns words very easily." ** The front door opened and Sakusa felt relief wash over him as he was welcomed by the familiar warmth of his home. He removed his mask and proceeded to take off his shoes by the genkan. "Papa! Papa are you hurt?" "Hm?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What was that? "Are you hurt?" Kiyoshi asked eagerly, bouncing on his feet. "He's been waiting to examine you all day." You smiled at your husband. You approached him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, making yourself blush a little. Sakusa smiled at you and handed the take out you requested. You took it gratefully, heading over to the kitchen to prepare dinner. "Papa, are you hurt?" Kiyoshi asked once more, this time with his doctor's kit in hand. "Will you treat me?" Sakusa asked, sitting down the first step of the stairs. "Please treat me. My head hurts." Kiyoshi rushed to open his

kit and got the plastic stethoscope out. He carefully put it on and approached his father. Sakusa held his small body to steady him as Kiyoshi started on the examination. "My chest hurts as well." His father feigned a pained expression—as best as he could—when Kiyoshi pressed the end of his stethoscope to Sakusa's chest. Sakusa let out faux groans which sounded robotic but Kiyoshi didn't notice. He rushed back to his kit and pulled put the plastic injection. "Papa, has a cough too. I should give you a shot." Sakusa let out a fake cough as well and when his son pressed the toy to his arm he faked another gasp. "Ouch." He said, blunt as ever. "That hurt." His son just laughed and rummaged through his kit once more, pulling out a knife. "We need to take out your snot, too." "What?" Sakusa stiffened. Kiyoshi rushed back to him with the toy knife pointed towards his dad and Sakusa stopped him right there. "What are you going to do with that knife?" "Snot!" "What?" He laughed lightly, still pushing his son away as Kiyoshi kept trying to shove the knife into his father's nose. "He did that with his other patients." You interrupted from the kitchen; Sakusa looked at you. "He's gonna take your snot out." You giggled at the slight horror on his face. He was a lot less wary of germs when he was home but still, he was cautious about everything he touches—and in this case, what goes in and out of his nose. "Papaaaaa!" Kiyoshi whined. In a spur of the moment, Sakusa held his son's arm and guided the small toy near his nose. He let it graze the inside in the very slightest and he hoped his son was satisfied with it. "Kiyoshi, papa doesn't want you to do...that." Looking up from your preparations once more, you witnessed Sakusa letting his son pick his nose. The laugh you let out was unintentional, but you found it heartwarming to see your husband stepping out of his comfort zone, just to please his son. "Do you remove your snot with a knife?" He asked Kiyoshi, to which he nodded proudly. "How does it feel?" You teasingly asked your husband. Before he could answer, Kiyoshi said, 'It feels nice!', in a cheerful voice. He was going through the kit again. "Maybe, I should take your snot out too, huh Kiyoshi?" Sakusa teased. The young boy ignored his father's remarks, standing back up to give his father a bottle with a picture of a capsule on it. This time he started shoving the bottle to his father's mouth but Sakusa was quick to lean away. He held Kiyoshi's hand that was holding the bottle near his face, opening and closing his mouth briefly as if taking the medication. Kiyoshi's face broke out into a huge grin, knowing that he had cured his father. Sakusa held his son's face in his hands and kissed his forehead. "Thank you." He muttered, making Kiyoshi beam. "Get cleaned up, it's dinner time." You chimed. Kiyoshi hurriedly shoved his toys back into the doctor's kit; the prospect of eating dinner making him excited. Sakusa offered to help him pack up, only to get hit on the leg as Kiyoshi spun around. - - - It was now bedtime and Sakusa was checking the doors and windows. He turned off the kitchen and living room lights and headed towards Kiyoshi's room, where you and your son were already settled. You and your husband decided to sleep all together for one night seeing as you'll be gone for a while. He sat himself on the futon on the floor while you were snuggled up with Kiyoshi on his bed. "Kiyoshi." The little boy sat up at his father's voice. "Who do you want to sleep with? Is it Bunny?" Sakusa was referring to the little boy's favorite stuffed animal. Kioshi thought for a bit before answering. "Mama should sleep with Kiyoshi." You stiffled a giggle. "Papa should sleep there." He leaned over slightly and pointed to the futon Sakusa was already settled at. "I should sleep on the floor?" "Yes." Sakusa expected this and just shook his head. He never really was his son's priority. You stared at him to get his attention, silently asking him if he was okay. He answered with a soft

smile and a nod. You laid on the open edge of Kiyoshi's bed so that he wouldn't roll over to the floor. You extended your hand to your husbnad which he took gratefully. He lifted it up to his lips and gave it a delicate kiss. Your spine tingled at the sensation of his lips on your skin. Kiyoshi then handed you a book to read and snuggled to your side. You kissed the top of his head and started reading to him. Sakusa then laid down on the soft futon on the floor and turned his body to the side, facing you two. Just like his son, he let the sound of your voice lull him to sleep. *** "Papa! Papa!" Sakusa groaned and willed himself to wake up at the sound of Kiyoshi's calling. "Papa, did you sleep well?" He asked, already energetic. The room was dark except for the small sliver of light that escaped the curtain on one side. Kiyoshi was bouncing on his bed, sprawling his body on top of yours, effectively waking you up. He was able to make out Kiyoshi's small figure despite the dark room. "Hmm, yes Kiyoshi. Did you sleep well?" He asked, voice deep and still laced with sleep. His son didn't answer the question as he hyperactively called out to him again. "Papa!" Sakusa hummed in acknowledgement. "Now that I'm awake, can I have fun?" "Of course." Sakusa replied sitting up from the futon and stretching. He looked at your rousing form as you rubbed the sleep oit of your eyes. It may be cliché to think but despite your disheveled look, you're still breathtaking to him. "Good morning, my love." He took your hand and gave the back of it a soft kiss, just like he did the night before. He had refused to give you morning kisses even from the very start of dating, saying that it was unhygienic. "Good morning, Omi." You kissed his hand as well. "Had a good sleep?" "Sort of." He said bluntly, making you giggle. "Our bed is still better than this futon. Why didn't we just let Kiyoshi sleep in our room?" "Omi, he needs to learn to sleep in his own room." You chastised him playfully. While the both of you conversed, Kiyoshi went around his room, greeting all of his stuffed animals that sat atop his drawers. "Good morning Mr Penguin! Good morning Ms. Penguin!" He gave each toy a pat on their heads. ** After folding up the futon and blankets and freshening up, Sakusa headed for the kitchen and started on making breakfast. He measured two cups of rice and started washing them under the faucet. It wasn't long before you and Kiyoshi followed after him. "Shall we see what your papa is doing?" You hoisted Kiyoshi further up your arms for a better grip. You tapped on Sakusa's back, silently telling him to switch positions with you. He wiped his wet hands on a kitchen towel nearby and held them both out to Kiyoshi. "Come to me." He said. Kiyoshi just look at his dad before vigorously shaking his head. "Play with papa now, Kiyoshi. Mama needs to make breakfast." You rubbed his back and tried to pass him off to Sakusa but to no avail. Kiyoshi's grip on your neck tightened as he stuck his body to yours. "Why won't you play with me?" Sakusa asked, while brushing Kiyoshi's hair away from his face. The little boy looked away from his father. "I don't want to play with you." Kiyoshi mumbled into your shoulder. You tried setting him down on the kitchen floor but he just lifted his feet higher so as to not touch the floor. He let himself dangle from your neck until you gave up and stood up again. He whined in protest. Sakusa sighed and placed a hand on your lower back and whispered that it was okay. He didn't mind making his family some breakfast. "Are you sure?" You asked. He dismissed you with a small nod and a soft smile. He sighed quietly almost getting used to being little to no priority to Kiyoshi. You had told him before that it just takes a while and Kiyoshi was just three. Sakusa has all the time to change his son's mind, Kiyoshi saw how sad his papa looked when you started to walk away from the kitchen. He can't let his papa be sad and he wanted to comfort him. Like a switch, his earlier

distaste for his father was nowhere to be seen as he reached out to Sakusa. "Papa, hug me please?" He called out to him. You immediately set him down on his feet as he waited for Sakusa. Two big strides was all it took for Sakusa to reach his son and to scoop him in his arms. You couldn't help but smile at the interaction. "Show me your love, Papa." You giggled behind your hand as you noticed Sakusa's ears turning a slight tint of pink. You gave him a sly wink before walking back to the kitchen to continue the breakfast preparations. Sakusa couldn't help but blush at his son's words. To be honest, he wasn't really hiding it. He usually wasn't at the receiving end of Kiyoshi's affection. So during times that he is, he wouldn't care if he turned as red as a tomato. Kiyoshi rested his head on his father's strong shoulder, rubbing his hand on it far comfort. He remembers his parents rubbing his back during the times that he cried. So, he did it to Sakusa so that he wouldn't cry. Sakusa held the back of his son's head carefully, pressing a kiss to his temple. He swayed the both of them from side to side as they enjoyed the small yet intimate moment. ** "Open your mouth a little wider, Kiyoshi." He did as he was told but the scowl on his face remained while Sakusa helped him brush his teeth. Sakusa wanted his son to learn about hygiene and cleanliness at the youngest age so he hoped he was setting a good example. "Almost done." He stroked the brush gently in Kiyoshi's mouth before Sakusa declared that he was done. He rinsed out the small baby toothbrush before placing it back along with yours and his own. Kiyoshi was just about to step down from his step stool but Sakura was quick to stop him. "Let's wash your face first." He held Kiyoshi softly. Wetting his hand, he wiped and rubbed it down Kiyoshi's face as gentle as he could. He knew his hands weren't as soft as yours. After several years of playing volleyball, his hands were bound to be a little rough. It didn't seem to affect Kiyoshi in anyway. As Sakusa's hand ran down his face, he stuck his tongue out playfully. Everytime he would lick Sakusa's hand, he laughed to himself. Sakusa would flinch everytime his hand would make contact with Kiyoshi's tongue, only making the child laugh louder. ** During the time your boys were enjoying their moment together, you made breakfast. Egg omelettes, rice, fried salmon, miso soup, a serving of natto for Kiyoshi and Sakusa's favorite, umeboshi. "Itadakimasu!" Sakusa placed small servings of omelette and fish into Kiyoshi's bowl while you mixed his natto. Kiyoshi waited patiently as he took small bites off of the fish and eggs. When you were done, you scooped some natto and held it in front of your son. He opened wide and gratefully accepted the food. It was unusual for kids to like the traditional dish. But for some reason, Kiyoshi loved it. Sakusa took a bite of his umeboshi, savoring the taste. Ever since dating him, you've tried your best to make him homemade umeboshi and now that you've mastered it, it's the only umeboshi that he eats—even if you don't like the dish. "The soup is hot!" Kiyoshi stuck out his tongue. You offered him some water. Scooping up some miso soup with his spoon, you blew on it slightly to cool it down. "Here. I cooled it down for you." You fed him the soup which made Kiyoshi dance in his chair. "You're eating so well, Kiyoshi!" You said, ruffling his hair. As you continued to feed your son, Sakusa was enjoying the view. It always blew his mind how lucky he is to have you and Kiyoshi in his life. Having his own family was far from his thoughts when he was still in Itachiyama. But after meeting you, he found himself stepping out of his comfort zone—willingly—and he didn't regret any second of it. This only fueled him to do better for you and especially for Kiyoshi. ** "Papa, what are you doing?" Sakusa glanced at Kiyoshi who was in your arms once more, before returning to the task at hand. "Are you washing my dishes?" "Yes, I am washing your dishes."

Sakusa's response only made Kiyoshi laugh. You played with Kiyoshi in the living room while Sakusa cleaned up after breakfast. He turned down your offer to help, saying that you can go ahead and play with Kiyoshi. Besides, he found it relaxing to do a little bit of chores especially when it's cleaning. When Sakusa was done with the dishes, he started wiping down the table and kitchen counters. After that he cleaned the dining room floor, especially under Kiyoshi's chair where grains of rice and soup stains littered the floor. As the floor was taken care of, he gathered all the trash and took it outside to the bins. Meanwhile, you went upstairs and started getting ready for your small trip with your sister. You asked Kiyoshi if he can help his father which he happily answered with a 'yes!' Kiyoshi actually just stood near Sakusa and watched him clean. Almost twenty minutes had passed before you came down the stairs, fully dressed and carrying two bags. "Kiyoshi, I'll be going out now." Sakusa and Kiyoshi were playing with his dinosaurs when you got down. You weren't even gone that long and the two of them are already getting close. Sakusa picked up Kiyoshi and walked towards you. You leaned up a little and placed a big kiss on his cheek. "Play well with dad, okay?" He nodded as he clung to his father's neck. "Bye Mama." You smiled. You looked at Sakusa who was looking at Kiyoshi witha soft smile on his face. "Good luck, Omi." You whispered. He turned his gaze to you, eyes widened in the slightest at the meaning behind your words. The worry of taking care of his child who doesn't like him is starting to creep its way into Sakusa's consciousness. Laughing, you leaned on your toes and kissed his lips quickly. "You can do it." You rubbed your thumb on his forehead to remove the slight furrow of his eyebrows, which were bent in uneasiness. "You can do it." Kiyoshi repeated, laying his head on Sakusa's shoulder. This made both of you laugh. "Have fun, Y/N." Sakusa smiled, "I will." You placed a hand om the wall, balancing yourself as you put om your shoes. Sakusa picked up your bags and handed them to you,. "Mama, have fun." Kiyoshi copied his father this time. When you looked at your son, you noticed that he had a sad look in his eyes. It was because he isn't used to being away from you for too long. "Kiyoshi, have fun with papa okay?" Kiyoshi nodded obediently, clinging closer to Sakusa's neck. "Okay. Don't worry about us." You waved at both off them before finally heading out the door. The house grew quiet. Sakusa looked at Kiyoshi who was still staring at the front door. "Mama is gone." Sakusa stated. Kiyoshi looked at his dad but didn't say anything. ** "Kiyoshi and I will become close," Sakusa nodded to the camera with a determined look om his face, "I know I'll do well."

—

A/N: Happy birthday, my Kiyoomi! 💛💚 (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED ON SATURDAY. TUMBLR WHYYYYY)

03.18.2021

[spencers-renaissance]

I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for. 

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia 

Pairing: Gen 

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered. 

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis. 

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label. 

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information. 

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods. 

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised. 

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.” 

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well. 

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases. 

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps. 

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes. 

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?” 

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ‘unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case. 

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant. 

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner. 

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better. 

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.” 

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.  

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully. 

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly. 

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that. 

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively. 

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away. 

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air. 

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer. 

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand. 

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning. 

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important. 

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.” 

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you. 

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it. 

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it. 

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

hi there!! i rly love ur blog. i’m here to ask a question, if you’d feel comfortable answering. can u have arfid if the kind of food groups u generally restrict are more “healthy” foods? like vegetables & such. i’m veryvery averse to trying new foods, i genuinely cannot do it and i tend to stick to eating the same things. i think i’d Cry if a baked bean came anywhere near me. but, like. all of the sources i’ve looked at on arfid focus more on ppl who restrict food groups and involuntarily lose weight, except i binge eat and have been gaining weight.

sorry to be asking this to u bc i don’t think you’re the type of blog that answers these types of questions ??? but i couldn’t find any other good informative ed blogs to ask. thank u, hope u have a great day!! and u absolutely shouldn’t feel any obligation to reply to this, feel free to dismiss it if needed :]

Hi, OP! It's no trouble - I never mind answering asks like this, although readers should keep in mind that I am not a medical or psychiatric professional.

But yes, what you're describing sounds exactly like ARFID. I know a lot of people talk about having trouble keeping weight on with ARFID, but I definitely think it can go the other way around depending on your individual metabolism or if you binge on your safefoods. (It's also possible to have more than one eating disorder at a time. A lot of people wouldn't think of ARFID and Binge Eating Disorder as ones that would go hand in hand, but I'd think it'd definitely be possible!)

So ARFID can be caused by a number of things, and often it is related to sensory issues like taste and texture. So it is totally possible for someone who has ARFID to have "healthy" foods in their range of safefoods, but when someone's safefoods are restricted entirely on the basis of the things they eat being "healthy" enough, that's actually an ED called orthorexia. Orthorexia can be its own thing but is often comorbid with other EDs, or mental or physical health disorders. Orthorexia is the obsession with eating "clean" foods, to the point where the sufferer is afraid of specific foods if they're not "clean" enough. Think of people who follow each and every new fad diet that's supposed to purge out "toxins" or who refuse to touch anything inorganic, or who think gluten is poison even if they do not have a gluten allergy. Those kinds of things can be versions of orthorexia.

But actually it is very common to have ARFID and to struggle to eat healthy foods, especially if you have sensory issues! Pre-packaged "junk food" is very predictable, and has the same taste and texture every time. Fruits, veggies, and whole grains can be more unpredictably textured and can have flavors that present in very intense ways for those who have sensory issues. ARFID can also stem from other things like a psychological fear of certain foods making you sick. If that's your reason, I'd recommend starting a search for a psych professional who is skilled in that area. However, if your ARFID is based in sensory issues, I actually have already made a post for another anon detailing the steps for sensory-based eating therapy, as well as ways you can support your body if you can't broaden your palate right away. I hope that's helpful!

If you can find a feeding therapist in your area who might be able to see you and help you practice eating, that could be a useful venture. Unfortunately a lot of ARFID feeding therapists work specifically with children, not adults. But seeking psychotherapy in a different context might help you unpack the urge to binge, at least.

I hope this helps!

[spencesglasses]

sweet creature (spencer reid x f! reader) pt 3

a/n: no spence in this part, sorry to disappoint you simps. but uhh, y/n and jj rights! but as besties <3

tw! there are mentions of sexual assault and a minor character death! please be aware before reading!!

part one | part four

“St. Augustine, Florida,” Penelope starts, showcasing the most recent case. “Two bodies were found early this evening in a remote wooded area just west of the city. Neither have been identified yet.”

“This woman’s complexion…” Tara said, looking at the pictures of a woman with various injuries on her face.

Y/N looked at the board beside Penelope. “… she was exsanguinated.” she hissed.

“Correct, my dearest, which is a really fun word to say, but I didn’t know its terrible meaning until I started working here.”

“Odd that the only female had her blood removed,” Rossi said across the round table.

“Well, the male victim might have been collateral damage or a witness that needed to be silenced.” JJ added.

“I mean, it is the kind of message that would be sent to each other. The Curiel Syndicate recently set up shop in Florida,”

“Except it looks like these two were meant without anyone the wiser. How is that a message?” Asked Rossi.

“Well, cartels have also been known to use murder as a form of voodoo.” Derek pointed out. “In 1989, a University of Texas student was murdered by a satanic gang while on spring break.”

Y/N leaned further into the table, reviewing the photos they were given. “My guess is that this has nothing to do with drugs. Maybe someone with a blood fetish-”

“Vampirism?” JJ asked.

Y/N hums in response, glancing at her for a brief moment.

“It’s late and we need to hit the ground running. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said as he closed the file he held, gathering any necessary belongings for the case.

Without another word, the team mirrored his actions and followed him out. This was one of the first few cases she has worked on with the team without Spencer. She didn’t mind it, of course. The team welcomed her with open arms and treated her as if she had always been there, which she appreciated. She had gotten used to everything that came with the job, and grew closer to the team, but she wouldn’t be lying if she said that some things she sees still make her skin crawl.

-

Y/N looked out the window of the jet, admiring the contrast of the dark, star filled sky beneath the white clouds. She was seated with JJ, Hotch, and Morgan at the small table, the rest of the team claiming their spot to the seats to their right.

“The coroner attributed the lacerations on the bodies to animal bites.” Morgan said. “Apparently there are a lot of raccoons in that area.”

Y/N felt JJ nudge her slightly and brought her attention back to the file on her lap, flipping through the photos. “The media’s going on about satanic mutilation.”  

“It’s happened before. The West Memphis three case showed how animal activity on a corpse can be mistaken for a ritualized torture.” Hotch noted.

“After the first bite, the insect infestation expands and distorts the open wounds,” Said Rossi.

Y/N heard Garcia groan over the laptop speaker, seeing her face scrunch up in disgust on the screen. “Ok, here’s my finger, here’s the mute button. Are you guys done talking about the critter damage?”

JJ and Y/N shared a look, and she smiled. “You can put your finger down, Pen, we’re done,”

“Thank you, and Y/N’s right; local news and radio outlets are going wild with this being a blood-worshipping cult murder.” she continues typing. “Hey, new information. Both of those bodies have just been identified, Cheyenne Pravato, 23 and George Henning, 71.”

The team leaned forward to inspect the photos of the recent victims popping up on the screen.

“Any connection?” asked Hotch.

“My level-one search says no, my level 2 through 20 await. Cheyenne was a waitress that is currently unemployed. Henning was a retired steelworker from Pennsylvania, lived in Florida a few years. They both went missing 3 days ago.”

“3 days?” Tara questioned. “Coroner estimated the time of death as less than 24 hours from the time of discovery?”

“Preliminary indicators show no sign of torture or sexual assault,” JJ said.  

Y/N’s eyebrows knit together in thought, trying to piece together the information. “What was he doing with them?”

The team brought their attention to Hotch, and he said, “Dave, you find out what you can about Cheyenne from friends and family. Morgan, you do the same thing for Henning. JJ, I need you to rein in the media. And, Lewis, Y/L, you two go to the M.E.. Hysteria’s growing and we need to contain it.”

-

“Still waiting on the full tox screen for the male victim,” said the medical examiner.

“We think they may have been held for up to two days.” Tara said. “Were they fed?”

“Stomach contents were empty, but nutrition and hydration levels were normal. My guess is they were both fed through an I.V.” he said, lifting the fabric that covered the body. “I did find one curiosity,”

He uncovered the victim's calf, showing a mark on the skin with red rings around it. Y/N furrowed her brows, her eyes scanning the injured spot. “It looks like an animal bite?”

“Not under magnification. It’s actually a surgically precise triangle,”

She saw Tara’s face harden in the corner of her eye; she turned to her and they shared a questioning look. They heard the telephone ring from across the room, and the medical examiner was quick to answer it. Tara lifted the fabric once more, bending down to look closer at the injury.

“You’re positive of that?” Y/N heard him ask over the phone. The medical examiner hung up the phone, turning on his heel to face the two women. “The tox screen and DNA tests on George Henning just came back. You ready for this? Most of the blood in his body isn’t his…”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then whose…”

“It’s Cheyenne’s…”

Her whole body tensed at his words, and Tara’s jaw dropped in shock.

-

Y/N tapped her pencil against the table as she read over the tox screening. “The blood drained from Cheyenne was put into George Henning?” Morgan questioned, gesturing to the document in her hand.

She slid the paper across the table for him to read. “It is strange, a triangle was cut into his calf muscle too,”

“And there’s still something in the toxicology screen that the M.E. can’t identify.” Hotch said.

“Yeah, we’re hoping to find something more in the next few hours,”

Morgan slid back the report to her. She heard footsteps coming closer to the room they occupied and turned to see JJ walking in.  She greeted her with a small wave and smile, to which she returned. JJ leaned against Y/N’s chair, resting her hand on the back of it. “So, it took a little arm-wrestling,” she starts. “But the media finally saw the wisdom in toning down the whole demon worship angle,”

“Don’t take a victory lap just yet,” Rossi said, Y/N handing her the tox report.

“You’re kidding,” JJ huffed.

Tara picked up the photos from the M.E., flipping them over for JJ to see. “Y/L and I are just trying to work out this whole calf muscle business,”

“Triangles are big in illuminati symbolism.” Rossi recounted.

Morgan let out a sharp exhale. “This is just bending back toward cult behavior.”

“What did you find out about George Henning?” Hotch asked him.

“According to the neighbors, the guy was a shut-in. No friends, a lot of health problems — hypertension, parkinson’s,”

“Cheyenne was the opposite,” Rossi interjected. “Vegan, into new age lifestyles. Never met a harmonic convergence she didn't want to converge on.”

“Well, I mean, I get it with him; he was a recluse, but how did nobody notice her missing for 3 days?”

“Her friends said that Cheyenne was flighty. It was not unusual for her to take off without notice for a week or two.”

“Transfusions and sustained I.V. feeding takes skill, planning and access to materials, and as crude as it was, the replacing of old blood with new is dialysis.” Hotch said.  “ What if the triangle isn’t a symbol, but a tissue sample? Could this be medical experimentation?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve got a youthful, healthy host in Cheyenne and a sick test subject in Henning,”

“If the new missing girl’s his next victim, the unsub could be getting ready to try again,” JJ said, clutching the back of Y/N’s chair.

Y/N gave her a look of confusion. “New missing girl?”

“A missing persons report came in earlier today, Andrea Gambrell,” JJ explained. “Her car was found abandoned at a cemetery near Jacksonville. Cheyenne and Andrea waitressed at the same restaurant.”

“If Andrea mirrors Cheyenne, then who mirrors George?” Y/N asked.

“I guess that’s what we have to figure out.”

-

Y/N stood with JJ and Hotch looking over photos they’ve gathered throughout the case, trying to come up with a conclusion. She tapped her foot anxiously against the tile beneath her feet, her brows furrowing as she looked closely at the photos. The sound of Hotch’s phone ringing startled her, making her jump. She let out a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. JJ took notice of a very flustered looking Y/N and placed a hand on her shoulder gently. “You okay there?”

She gave her a half-hearted smile, moving past her to stand next to Hotch. “‘m fine.”

“What do you have, Garcia?” he asked.

He asked her to search for doctors or any medical professionals in the area, anyone that could pop up as a red flag, and of course, Garcia was quick to find just what they needed. “Nothing on my crimson flag doctor search, but I did learn about something with a super cool name,” she said through the speaker. “The mad scientist club,”

JJ took a step, now standing beside Y/N. “And what is that?’ she asked.

“They’re a student group from the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville. Before the disbanded, they used to get together and talk about experimental ways to cure disease.”

“Do you have any names of the people in the club?” Y/N questioned.

“Uh, kinda, sorta, not really. They were totally informal. Here’s the part that made me sit up straight. They used to meet at a local cemetery,”

JJ scoffed. “Let me guess, the same cemetery where Andrea Gambrell disappeared.”

“Yeah! The very one!”

“Alright,” Hotch started. “Keep working on the names and see if you can find out what the club disbanded.”

“Okay,” Garcia said before hanging up.

Before the three of them could say another word, Y/N's own phone started ringing. She reached into her back pocket and held the phone up to her ear. “Agent Y/L,”

“Yes, agent, I’ve got the full tox screen of George Henning,” he said, Y/N bringing her phone from her ear so she could put it on speaker. “There were massive levels of massive levodopa in his system.”

“The parkinson's drug?”

“Correct,”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. “But the blood was replaced with Cheyenne’s. Does that mean the levodopa was introduced into his system after the transfusion?”

“Yes, ma’am. We got the results of the other DNA samples and the surprises keep coming. Found traces of mesoglea and testudinata keratin,”

“That is…” she urges him to continue.

“Jellyfish and turtle. George Henning had animal DNA in his system.” He said.

Y/N scrunched her nose, looking up to see JJ with her mouth slightly agape and Hotch with a deep frown. Y/N quickly says ‘thank you’ before hanging up. But before she could turn her phone off, a quiet ding! went off notifying her about a new message.

“Guys,” she alerted. “Another body was found.”

“You two check that out, see what you can find. I’ll brief the team on the tox screening.”

-

Y/N and JJ walked in silence, their shoulders bumping as they made their way to the site where the latest victim was found.  “Okay so, a homeless man found him,” Y/N breaks the silence, lifting the police tape for her and JJ to go under. The officer close by handed them both gloves to search the area and a bag of belongings found on the victim. “We I.D.’d him as Harold McDermott, longtime local resident.”

“He didn’t even bother hiding the body this time.” JJ said. “The unsub might be unraveling,”

“He must’ve been the new George Henning.” Y/N muttered, crouching down and her eyes scanning the injuries the man ensued. “I don’t even want to think about what might be swimming around in his bloodstream.”

JJ crouched down to her level. “No obvious tissue removal, bruising on his face and chest.” she looked at Y/N, then to the bag in her hand. “What’s in there?”

Y/N eyebrows rose, following JJ’s gaze to the items in the clear bag. She stood up, opened the bag and it was a wallet. With a medical card. Ah, of course we’d find something like this in here, she thought. “It’s a medical I.D. card” she said, pulling it out for JJ to see. “Our victim suffered from epilepsy and cortico-basal degeneration…”

They tore their eyes away from the card, glancing up to each other. “We better deliver the profile.”

-

It’s been a few hours since they’ve delivered the profile to local authorities, and since then, they’ve gotten more information to help them solve the case. The M.E. had found more animal DNA in George Hennings body: sea urchin and some other type of tropical parrot neither of them could identify.

Penelope was able to locate one of the former members of the Mad Scientist Club, Diane Haller, and she was able to go in to talk to Tara; finding out that there was a man that could be a potential lead. Robert, or Richard, Diane couldn’t remember his name, but the club called him the magic man. He only went to the gathering a few times, according to Diane, and while he was there he would go on about how they were in a ‘magical place’. He attended the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville while the club was still active, his interest being in neuroscience.

A local doctor went missing, Laura Braga. She was a neurologist, which they believed was a connection to the unsub. Dr. Braga was heading back to her office to get files she’d forgotten when she discovered that the unsub broke into her office trying to get extra levodopa.  

“Garcia compiled a list of every medical student in the North Florida area with the first name of Richard or Robert, and I got to tell you guys, it’s a long list.” Tara said as she stood to the side of a board filled with photo evidence and a map of the area.

“So which one is our magic man?” JJ asked.

Y/N sat in the chair next to her, facing the board. She spun her chair around to face the other way and noticed a peculiar look on Rossi’s face. “What is it, Rossi?”

“They identified the bird DNA in Henning as coming from a scarlet macaw,”

“Mmhm. And?”

“That got me thinking about Turritopsis Dohrni,”

“Turri… what?’ Tara questioned him.

“It’s called the immortal jellyfish,” he explains. “Endlessly recycles its own cells through a process called transdifferentiation, a kind of lineage reprogramming.”

“Oh, my goodness. Dr. Spencer Reid, master of disguise.” JJ joked.

Y/N quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth rising slightly. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed that you were the resident genius, Rossi,”

He let out a soft chuckle. “No disguise. I called the kid last night.”

“Ahh,” Y/N and JJ said in unison.

“But think about it, jellyfish, turtle, sea urchin, and now a scarlet macaw. What do they all have in common?”

“A long lifespan.” Tara answered.

“Exactly, longer than a human’s.”

“So that means the unsub may not be focused on a specific disease but longevity,” Said JJ.

“Oh, God. Guys,” Tara gasped. “I think I know why the magic man thought this place was so magical,” She uses the file in her hand to point at the map. “We are right around the corner from the legendary Fountain of Youth.”

-

A local zoo reported a macaw stolen, the owner suspecting it to be a former employee, Robert Boles, who they’d believed to be the unsub. He went to medical school and flunked out in the middle of his first year. They found key information linking him to the case when Penelope found that he currently worked at the same hospital as Dr. Braga. The team rushed to the location where Boles did his experiments on his victims.

“All right, so, in high school Robert Boles got a summer job at a gift shop near the Fountain of Youth archaeological park.” JJ explained. “He got fired for breaking in after hours.”

Y/N and JJ sat in the back seat of the car, leaving Morgan and Hotch in the front. “That’s probably where his obsession with eternal youth started.”

-

They trudged through the hallways of the abandoned building with their guns pointed forward, ready to shoot if needed. “And I won’t let you get in the way!” they heard a man shout from one of the rooms.

The team followed the sound of the voice and turns the corner to see two men standing over a young woman. The younger man they’d identified as Robert Boles, and the young woman being Andrea Gambrell, Y/N assumed.

“Robert Boles, drop the weapon.” Hotch said sternly.

He whipped his head around to them.

“It’s over, man. You’re not getting out.” Morgan steps closer to him.

“Put the knife down, slowly.” JJ said.

Y/N watches as Boles lifts his arms in surrender, opening his hand to drop the knife. Morgan hurried to cuff him, while JJ rushed to untie Andrea strapped to the hospital bed.

“My wife needs help!” The other man, Ben Kebler, tells Hotch urgently.

“Where is she?”

“In the next room!” Mr. Kebler rushed out.

“Show me.” Hotch said, following him, and Y/N followed along. “Call an ambulance,” he tells her.

-

“Medics are on their way,” Y/N said softly, entering the room Hotch and JJ were in and she stood between them.

She looked down to see Eileen Kebler in the hospital bed, her husband leaning over her her. And her heart breaks. Eileen was dying.

“How is she?” Ben Kebler asked, eyes brimming with tears.

The three of them stayed silent, Y/N unable to comprehend what's happening, let alone come up with words to say in that moment. Hotch peers down at him, and Ben knows. He frantically shakes his head, hand shaking as he grabs his wife's hand. “What have I done?!”

“I’m cold,” Eileen mutters.

His face scrunched up. “Eileen, stay with me!” he pleads.

“I am always with you…” she whispers. “Always…”

And she was gone. Sobs echoed throughout the empty building, and Y/N could feel her heart bursting out of her chest. Her eyes watered with tears, then suddenly she felt a hand interlock with hers. It was JJ’s. She squeezes her hand gently, JJ rubbing soothing circles along her knuckles. She let out a soft exhale and used her free hand to wipe away any tears, trying to regain her composure. This part of the job was something she could never get used to. Something the rest of the team couldn’t get used to, no matter how long they’ve worked there.

-

It was safe to say that Y/N was not a night owl. The team were on their way home and she laid on the couch in the jet with a small pillow and blanket that could barely cover her. She smiled to herself as the memory of her finding Spencer snuggled with a far too small blanket the morning after their first movie night. She still cringes at the fact that she accidentally fell asleep barely into the first few movies, but smiles when she remembers what she woke up to. Y/N thought it was sweet that he stayed there with her, and finding Spencer curled up in a messy bundle of blankets made her heart grow twice its size. She took a mental note to call Spencer when they land, and she finally lets her eyes flutter shut, finally being able to rest.

-

tag list: @eevee0722 @ceeellewrites

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Talking to myself.”

I had no idea where this was going when I started writing this morning, but it turned out pretty interesting, so I hope you like it :). 

“Wow, Amazing.”

“Yeah.”

“Amazing.

“I know right!” Dr. Katie spun in a wide circle, eyes wide as she looked around the massive convention, eyes falling over all the strange alien technology, most of which was impossible to identify without proper explanation.

Admiral Vir rested his hands on hips as he looked around with a small smile, “Yeah, you should have seen it last year. Damn, good times.”

Katie glanced over at him, “What happened last year.”

He smirked, “We forgot to bring an invention.”

She grimaced, “Oh, that must have been embarrassing.”

“Not really, I had duct tape in my bag, and managed to pass that off as our contribution to science.” A distant look passed over his face accompanied by a far away smile, “And man do aliens love duct tape.”

They came around another corner heading up the medical alley, where Krill and some of the other medical professionals were haunting, shooting quick fire questions at anyone who they thought could answer. Krill was grilling someone on the use of personal shielding devices and if, “Do they protect the wearer from their own stupidity?”

On the other side of the field Dr. Adric and a few of the Finnari from the psych department were listening to an enthusiastic Tesraki, human duo about the application of some sort of weird looking helmet. Curious, he walked up feeling Conn’s shadow pass over him as the strange floating alien joined in.

“Yes it’s psych applications could be endless.”

“You see dreams, memories, information. If the wearer just thinks of it, the helmet will augment the memory process and fill in the retrieval gaps.”

Dr adric tapped his chin, “This would be perfect for therapy.

“PRecisely what we were thinking, the applications are endless. Currently, we are working to see if we can compress the technology and turn it into an implant to give the wearer augmented memory life-long. It would pretty much be like giving some eidetic memory.”

“And what phase of testing is it in/’

There was a pause, and the human and the Tesraki rubbed their heads, “Well, it hasn’t made it to sentient testing just yet. It is very difficult to find aliens who are willing to participate in potentially dangerous studies, and the MTI has only just cleared it for human testing, but you know how hard humans are to find.”

Admiral Vir tilted his head to the side, “No human testing yet huh?” He paused and everyone turned their heads to look at him.

Sunny, who had been boredly staring down at her implant looked up now only to frown at him, “Adam.”

“Well call me your first volunteer.” He said grinning, “A pretest shouldn't be a big problem, should it?”

The two scientists looked between each other with surprise, “Are you sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. You guys are the smart people right, and I have memories, so works out for everyone.”

He stepped up onto the little dais with them against Sunny’s protest pulling his sunglasses -- a pair of aviators -- off his head and handing them to a still-protesting Sunny.

He walked over and plopped himself down in their chair, turning his head to look up at them, “Well go on, hook me up and let's get this test started.”

The two scientists stared at him with some concern and incredulity, “Well we should probably have you sign a waver first.”

He shrugged, “yeah, sure.”

Against the protestations of his crew members, he signed his name on the dotted line barely reading the contract before leaning back in the chair. Sunny snatched the contract from one of their hands and looked down to read it over, “Potential life threatening brain injury! Adam, get down from there!”

“You worry too much.” he announced sitting back in his chair, “Hook me up kids, and lets get this show on the road.”

The two scientists -- hardly believing their good fortune-- quickly got to work as Sunny continued to protest. Cold jell was applied to the contacts on the inside of the helmet. Tiny electrodes clicked from recesses inside the helmet appearing on his forehead, temples, cheeks, behind his ears and on the back of his neck.

He shivered, “Damn that’s cold.”

The Tesraki turned to boot up the machine, and his human companion crouched next to him, “Just close your eyes, and let your mind wander.”

“Already there, Doc.”

A dark tinted face covering slid down before his eyes, and he leaned back in his seat closing his eyes and trying not to think too much.

He sat there for a long time, wondering if this was ever going to work, so far he didn’t see anything, though the chair was comfortable and the darkness was rather inviting to a very stressful day. Sort of reminded him of what he was little-

*** The carpet below his bare feet was soft and squishy, poking upland  between his toes as he padded quietly down the hall. Behind him, the sound of snoring accompanied his quiet escape as Thomas tossed in his sleep. Darkness pooled at the edges of the hallway, deep pools of black he was sure had to be hiding something. He sped up, his lip quivering, eyes wide as he rushed from the dark and towards the soft flickering light of the front room.

Despite his fear, he paused at the edge of the hallway, and after a few seconds of thinking very, very hard, he crawled onto his hands and knees, inching forward, trying to be as quiet as he could eyes fixed on the subtle swaying motion of momma’s rocking chair. 

Across the room the TV was on, but the volume was all the way down, and the subtle blue light was nearly drowned out by the flickering tongues of fire across the room.

He pressed one hand to the carpet and immediately the rocking chair paused, “Adam, sweetheart, go back to bed.”

He paused turning to look back at the dark hallway. Tears sprung to his eyes as a sudden wave of fear gripped him. He got to his feet, and with a soft padding he raced around the side of the couch and towards a familiar silhouette. 

He grabbed her leg in both of his arms resting his head against hr knee as he stared back at the dark hallway.

Momma looked down at him, her bright green eyes sparkling in the light of the fire, “Adam….” She sighed 

He looked up at her eyes still filled with frightened tears

She sighed, but smiled, setting down her book “Crime and Punishment”. She reached down grabbing him under the arms and hoisting him onto her lap. He cuddled against her chest, head resting on her shoulder. She kissed the top of his head, “it is a good thing you are so cute.”

She unfolded the blanket on her lap and wrapped it around him adjusting him in her arms where they were both comfortable.

“Now go to sleep.”

His eyes drooped even as she was speaking, and he faded away.

***

He gasped in shock and surprise jolting upright in his seat 

“Adam! Adam!” The mask before his eyes was flipped up and he was almost immediately blinded by light. He lifted his hands as the little pen light shone from one eye to the other.

“Adam, can you hear us.”

He waved them off, “yeah yeah, get off!” 

He shook himself a bit and sat up straighter. The two scientists stared at him with wide eyes, “W….what did you see?”

“It…. it works. I remembered something from when i was just a kid maybe… two no older than three. I remember the light, the TV show my mother was watching, the book she was reading, the way the carpet felt.” He shook his head incredulous, “That is… that is amazing, let me go back in.”

They glanced at each other but shrugged and allowed him to pull the visor down over his face as he leaned back.

***

A warm wind blew over the open school grounds. A small tree gave meager shade from the sun beating down upon them. Trucks and cars in the parking lot were filled with students dressed in their school colors -- the most hideous pairing of orange white and maroon -- Some had stripes painted on their cheeks, cheering as the cars lined up for the parade. He sat, small wearing a bright green shirt, having totally forgotten what today was.

Another gust of wind kicked up, tugging at the bright blue UN flag hanging outside the school.

A group of girls ran past, and some kid putted by on his moped: Moped Manny as many called him.

The football players passed by next, all stuffed into the bed of a truck yelling and hollering at the top of their lungs. He could see the individual numbers on their hest 37, 24, 6, 19 and 14. He stood from his seat, enthusiastically waving a hand towards number fourteen, a tall, dark-haired boy, who looked more like a man than the rest of the senior class.

Jeremy spied him almost immediately waving a hand high over his head and grinning.

The Truck was speeding up, towards its spot at the front of the parade line. Jeremy locked eyes with him and motioned him over with a large, gloved hand. Feeling a sudden wave of relief, he raced after the truck, which was picking up speed, reaching out a hand to geremy, who grabbed one of the the other players by the upper arm as to steady himself as he reached down. The guys yelled in surprise, but he ignored them stretching out his hand.

Adam leaped forward grabbing him by the hand, and with all his strength, and only with one arm, Jeremy hauled him up into the back of the moving truck to the protestations of the other team players.

“Dude what the hell.”

“He’s not supposed to be here, Jeremy.”

Jeremy turned, one arm around his little brother’s shoulders, “Another word about the kid, and I turf one of you out of the truck. As if to punctuate his threat, he drew himself into a crouch hands up like he was about to start a football play.

Everyone backed off, and their near hostility faded away.

A few of them even smiled.

One ruffled his hair, “Alright Freshman, if you’re gonna be here at least be useful.” A bag of candy was shoved into his hands, and he looked up at his brother with an expression of gratitude as Jeremy smiled down, “better than being back with the freshmen eh.”

He nodded his head and smiled at his older brother, who thumbed him on the back once before a chant broke out and he had to join in.

They moved up the line of cars, passing the Sophomore float where Thomas was standing grumpily at it’s back hands in his pockets. Just towards the front, Student body president and homecoming king David sat in his nice suit on the hood of a classic car next to the homecoming queen.

He waved at them as they passed making a face at Adam. jeremy flipped him off.

His eyes moved towards the sky, as the bright blue expanse reminded him of something.

***

Conn tilted his head slightly listening, or seeing the visions that ran through the man’s head in crystal clear detail. It was a clever trick he thought, but he bet he could see a completely different application to this machine.

Not really any reason to use it right now….

Other than his own curiosity of course.

***

The sky suddenly faded to black. The roaring Euphoria through his body completely dropped off as he began to fall hands and legs flailing out in either direction as he did. He screamed in shock and surprise, given only a second before plowing straight down into the dark ground below.

It hurt.

He was surprised at how much it hurt.

He groaned and sat up, pushing his body against the balck marble floor. Looking around, he saw nothing other than a black floor extending into darkness. A white ambient light was glowing from somewhere, but he couldn’t tell where for the life of him. 

What the hell was going on. He didn’t have a memory like this.

Off in the distance, he thought he could see another person, or another figure crouched against the floor.

He began walking towards the figure, and then broke into a sort of half jog. He could make out the figure now, a man it seemed, sitting on the floor his arms wrapped around his knees rocking back and forth.

“Hey…. uh are you alright.” He called jogging forward a little faster.

He was just close enough now to see the figure, a brown jacket, blond hair, blue jeans and boots, head down against his folded arms. 

He reached out a hand, “hey.”

As his hand came down, the head snapped upwards and he yelped in surprised leaping back as his own face stared back at him. 

“The HELL!”

His own face twisted into an expression of confusion and inner pain, “Help me.”

“Help you?I Help you what”

His clone's hands pressed against the side of his head, “What is wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you, nothing is wrong with you I…”

“I’m so scared…. Of everything, all the time I…. its like I can’t breathe.”

Adam paused standing over…. Himself? As the other him rocked bak and forth on the floor.

He paused, kneeling down and resting a hand on…. On his own shoulder?

“I uh… I’m sorry you feel that way but…. You know I’m scared all the time too, you know that I’ll let everyone down, that people will find out im a fraud, that ill get everyone killed, that I’m not good enough….. That she will leave me?”

His clone threw his head back hands still to the side of his head, “How do you stand it!”

“I uh.”

“Shut up jackass, and don’t bother paying attention to him. He  just likes the attention.” Adam leaped to his feet as his own voice assailed him from another side. He turned on the spot finding another incarnation of himself staring back at him. This one was wearing a flight suit, aviators, and was slowly chewing a piece of gum as he walked forward. He paused next to the quivering adam on the floor an made an expression of disgust before kicking him into the floor, “Shut up.’

Adam grabbed him? Himself? By the arm, “Hey leave him alone.”

The other Adam turned to face him still chewing slowly ,”No, I don’t think I will. This guy gets in my way all the time.” He glowered down at him, “Sniveling bastard, if it wasn’t for him I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, but he always has to wine and complain.”

“Touch him again and I will end you.” Adam said stepping in between himself and his other self.

Confident Adam leaned back arms crossed over his chest, “You should thank me for what I do. If it wasn’t for me we wouldn’t be flying, we would have a spaceship, and despite him…. We still managed to get the girl.”

Adam clenched his teeth, “Sometimes fear is alright.”

The other Adam snorted,, “Fear is for the weak.

Adam stared at himself with a frown, ‘Your a real asshole aren't you.” 

“Not an asshole, just not afraid of repercussions.” 

“Wow, is that an eyepatch!”

He turned again, as a child’s voice assailed him this time. 

A young boy no older than ten or eleven ame rolling up on a pair of heelies wearing a Star Trek T shirt and holding a lightsaber in the other hand.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Awesome!”

“Er, yeah I guess.”

A pair of bright green eyes looked up at him, “Hey, you’re me aren't you? Me from the future!”

“Oh uh, yeah I guess.”

“Did you discover aliens! Did you get to ride on a spaceship!”

Adam grinned at his younger self and reached out to ruffle his own hair, “Kid, we DISCOVER aliens, and Command an entire FLEET of spaceships.”

His younger self’s eyes widened, “WOAH! Awesome!”

“I know right!” “You’re SOOO cool.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well guess what kid, you get to be me when you grow up.”

Younger him whooped happily and wheeled away into the darkness.

“Look, we have to focus. The fleet has approximately 225 ships not including the omen. Now if we divide that out and have each fleet cover a specific sector, we  can maximize our coverage reducing crime, AND accidents by about 15% according to my calculations.”

“Hey hey, watch this.”

“No, no NO! I told you to FOCUS.”

“He he, are you mad.”

“YES OF COURSE I AM MAD. I AM TRYING TO WORK HERE!”

He turned on the spot looking towards where he was standing x2, or at least one of them was standing, the other one was trying to walk on his hands. The one that was on his two feet was wearing a pristinely cut uniform perfectly maintained, while the other one hadn't even bothered to tuck his dress shirt into his pants

“Of all the unprofessional, Idiotic, Mind numbing!”

“Hey, Hey guess what?” The scruffy Adam asked sitting on the floor and looking up at his companion.

He sighed, “What?’

“I own a jetpack he he.”

The well dressed version of himself clenched his fists and screamed in frustration, “I am NEVER going to get any work done with you around.”

“Pretty funny, aren't they.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin as the pleasant female voice spoke from over his shoulder. He whirled around his hands up and was met by a woman. She had a very pleasant, wide smile. Long honey blonde hair rolling in waves down her shoulders, one bright green eye and…. And eyepatch.

“Holy shit.”

“I know right?”

“So uh, who are you supposed to be. I mean I get the other guys, fear, douchebag, child, smart guy and dumbass, so who ware you.”

She-Adam smiled, “You’re smarter than you look.”

“I get that a lot.”

He glanced over at where smart adam was still yelling at dumb adam, “I think I spend most of my time between dumb adam and the kid, wherever he went.”

She smiled again and laughed, “Isn’t that the truth. But to answer your question I am Executive control.”

“My executive control is a woman?”

She shrugged, “Your executive control is awesome and you know it.” She flipped her hair over one shoulder.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Has confidence been rubbing off on you?”

“All of them rub off on me.” She frowned, “Wow that sounded dirty.”

“Ew, that sounds wrong.” He cracked a smile 

“So uh, is there anything I should know while I can actually talk to my own brain. Like is there anything you need, vitamins or…. Or something I’m not getting enough of.”

She-Adam frowned and tilted her head, “Hmm, good question. You could always use more sleep, more vegetables, and….. “ She paused and looked him over, “you’re not going to like this.”

He sighed, “Shit.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder, “That girl…. You know the one I am talking about. She is giving you so many signals it hurts me on a daily basis to see you either A. ignore them because fear or B,. just not seem them because dumbass over there gets in the way.” They both glanced to where dumbass was now rolling around on the floor.

“Uh huh.”

“You use confidence a lot, let him stay around when she’s there every once in a while.’

“You mean the douchebag guy.”

“Confidence and pride are two sides of the same coin. Let me handle him, just trust yourself.”

“You mean you.”

“I AM you. Besides I think I rein him in well enough most of the time.”

He sighed, “it's not confidence I have a problem with. Its fear.”

She frowned a bit, “I'll talk to him.”

“You mean I’ll talk to myself.” He glanced around at the dark expanse, “Where is procrastination. I am sure he will get in here to fuck things up.” 

“Adam, look at me.”

He turned his head to face her, somehow feeling like he was being scolded…. By himself, “I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “We have really come into our own these past few years, and it’s only going to get better, just keep trying.” 

He paused and nodded.

“I believe you.”

“Its about time.”

***

And then He snapped out of it bolting upright again, “What the hell!”

Conn floated over him with his head tilted, “I wasn’t expecting that.

“Conn, what did you do!”

“I think I may have just helped you out.” 

[hale-13]

En Pointe

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 24 Prompt - Stitches

No matter how much she hates the Red Room, ballet is still Natasha’s go to stress relief. Peter is just curious and eager to learn.

Words: 2311, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark

TW: Broken Bones, Blood

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“You do ballet?” Peter asks curiously as he watches Natasha tear the shank out of her new pointe shoes. Her old pair is still in pretty decent shape since she only dances on occasion now but its always been relaxing to sew and break in a new pair and it never hurts to have a few back ups.

“Sometimes,” she answers cryptically as she steps on the toe box with her bare heel to flatten it out, Peter watches her fascinated, venturing further into the room and sitting cross-legged a few feet from her. He’s careful not to touch any of her old shoes or the ribbons and other tools and materials spread out in a semi-circle around where she’s sitting. “Why?”

Peter’s fingers are twitching where he has them pressed into his thigh like he’s holding back from touching. “I did ballet as a kid. Just a few months of classes before my parents died and I was terrible but it was fun.”

Natasha hums as she reinforces the toe of the shoe with glue and fans it a little to dry it out. “You probably wouldn’t be so terrible now,” she tells him as she bends one shoe and then the other, enjoying the cracking noise they make as she works them in. She looks over to Peter to consider him for a moment. “Want to try?”

“With you?” He squeaks and its kinda adorable how nervous he is. Nat suppresses a smirk as she puts on her toe spacers and worn out toe pads – the lambs wool she modified these with is absolutely perfect and she won’t even consider using another pair until these designate around her feet.

“Of course,” she answers, standing up and bending first one shoe and then the other before going up en pointe and squatting to work in both shoes. She’ll need to dance on them for a few hours before they start feeling really good but they aren’t too bad right now. Sometimes new shoes just aren’t right no matter how well she prepares them but she has a good feeling about this pair. “You seem mostly coordinated as Spider-Man at least, I think you can handle a few basic positions.”

“Uh yeah,” Peter says, jumping to his feet like an over eager puppy and making Natasha smile a bit. “Yeah that sounds great!” She can almost see his tail wag.

She gestures to the barre running the length of the studio Tony had put in the compound just for her and has them face each other, correcting Peter’s posture as she goes. His sneakers are ratty and falling apart and she wrinkles her nose at them. She taps them with the hard side of the box of her shoe. “Lose those. I don’t have a pair of men’s shoes lying around so you can just go barefoot for now.” Peter hastens to do as she steps into some resin, crunching the small rocks into powder and rubbing it into the sole, box and sides of her shoes. By the time she’s done, Peter has positioned himself back at the barre, barefoot and with the hems of his pants cuffed up to mid calf.

He looks a little nervous and intimidated so Natasha give him a little smile as she hands the barre with her left hand and adjusts herself into first position as Peter stares intently. “We’re going to do some plié to start I’ll show you the positions; this is first.” Peter’s more graceful than she expected, his legs easily falling into place without shaking or him losing his balance like most new students was. She’s almost impressed.

Peter’s a surprisingly quiet student – she’s seen him in the lab with Tony and in the field where the kid is definitely what she would describe as a chatterbox. He asks a few questions here or there but, for the most part, he just observes and follows her lead. He picks up the positions quickly and Natasha puts on some music and instructs him through her usual warm up. By the end he’s sweating a little but he looks relaxed and a little pleased with herself.

“Can you teach me to spin?” He asks her a little shyly but with an undercurrent of excitement, shifting his weight from foot to foot like an overeager puppy and Nat gives him a soft smile.

“Sure,” she says, ditching her point shoes and slipping into some flats. “So you want to start off…”

He falls over the first few times but he nails a sloppy spin the fourth time. He stumbles a little once he stops, arms akimbo and legs spread for balance with a surprised look on his face. He looks at her for a second with a clear expression of ‘did I just do that?’ before letting out an excited laugh and fist pumping. “Holy shit!” He says under his breath and Natasha laughs with him – his good humor infectious. “That was so fun!”

“Try it again,” she says. “And this time keep your arms tucked in tighter and you head fixed on a point. Like this,” she demonstrates again, focusing on a dent in the wall to keep her head from spinning with her body and to keep her from getting dizzy. Peter tries again and cleans up his form a little.

“I think I’ve got it,” he says after another few turns and then he starts again, spinning once, twice, three times and, on the fourth rotation she sees his ankle twist as if in slow motion. Peter lets out a grunt as he loses his balance and, instead of falling, tries to stick to the floor with his abilities. His momentum continues to pull him though and she hears his leg crack in a sound that echos through the studio over the soft music and makes her hair stands on end.

“Fuck!” Peter exclaims and he drops, hitting the smooth wood floor hard and immediately dropping onto his back, face ghostly. His tibia has broken cleanly in two near his ankle and twisted to break through the skin in a grotesque fashion, leaking blood onto the previously pristine floors. Natasha immediately falls back into her extensive first aid training and drops to the floor next to Peter, tying one of her leftover ribbons around his upper calf in a crude tourniquet.

“Let’s get medical down here FRIDAY,” her voice is calm even though her heart rate is elevated. Peter looks about two seconds from passing out but pushes himself up with prodigious effort only to turn green when he sees his leg, turning away from her abruptly to gag and retch. “Get it all out,” she tells him, rubbing a hand across his clammy back.

“It’s…” Peter gags again. “The bone… I…”

“Don’t look at it,” Natasha says firmly, pushing him back to the floor. “Tony told me you were accident prone but I didn’t know you were this bad,” she tells him with humor, pulling off the shrug she had put over her leotard and leggings and mashing it firmly into the wound, making Peter moan and turn white.

“It’s Parker Luck,” he tells her, sounding out of it. He looks like he may pass out and that just won’t do – she needs to keep him awake.

“What’s that?” She asks, brushing the hair off his forehead in a tender gesture and massaging his scalp a little.

“Just my specific brand of bad luck,” Peter says a little sardonically, his voice wavering from the pain. She wants to ask more but the door at the opposite end of the studio flies open hard enough to hit the wall and bounce back as Tony – helicopter mentor extraordinaire – skids into the room and literally trips over his own feet to get to Peter’s side. Natasha would roll her eyes if she wasn’t so concerned herself.

“What happened?” Tony asks her, tone accusatory and Natasha gives him a sharp look.

“We were doing ballet and he spun just a little too hard,” Peter groans from the floor, this time from embarrassment and covers his face with his hands muttering ‘just let me die’ under his breath. Tony flicks him on the forehead.

“Don’t be a dramatic little shit,” he chastises, still looking more worried than anything. “Only you would manage to give yourself a compound fracture learning ballet of all things.”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Peter whines. “I’m injured!”

Natasha can’t hold back her snort at this, the situation would probably be a lot less humorous if she didn’t know Peter would likely be completely back to normal in a couple weeks or less with his healing factor. The kid was like rubber.

“What did you do this time?” Bruce calls from the doorway, pulling a gurney and followed by a small gaggle of nurses. Natasha steps back and away as one of them takes over putting pressure on the still bleeding puncture and pulls Tony with her. She knows that if he had his druthers he would glue himself to Peter’s side and aggravate Bruce and the other medical professionals to death.

The team is quick and efficient in stabilizing Peter’s leg with a temporary splint and loading him on the stretcher, bustling out of her studio with Tony following just as quickly as they came in. Nat isn’t a big fan of crowds so she stays behind, cleaning the tacky blood off the floor before it dries and sets. As it is, the fine grains of the wood are tainted and she knows she has no chance of cleaning all of it out and resigns herself to dealing with flaking blood on the toes of her pointe shoes for the foreseeable future.

Satisfied with her clean up job, she slinks back to her room and showers, washing the remnants of Peter’s blood off her hands and forearms and the sweat out of her hair. She changes into some loungewear and dries her hair and, figuring she’s probably stalled long enough, grabs a book at random from her bookshelf and makes her way to the medical floor.

The halls are silently when she arrives thankfully and the waiting room is empty bar Tony. He’s seated in one corner facing the hall that leads to the operating and recovery rooms and tapping something into his StarkPad, reading glasses perched onto the tip of his nose and in danger of slipping off the end. He looks relaxed which she takes to mean the Peter will be just fine – not that she expected any different.

Tony jumps when she settles into the chair next to him, glasses falling to the floor and nearly fumbling his tablet. He sends her a glare without heat – he’s always complaining about her sneaking up on him but its not her fault he isn’t observant – and sets the tablet aside.

“Well?” She asks, quirking one eyebrow in expectation.

“He’ll be fine,” Tony tells her, relief clear in his voice. “They’d normally have to put in a pin or two but, with his healing, they just want to flush it out really well to prevent infection and then reduce the fracture and throw in some stitches and a brace. He’ll be on bed rest and crutches for the next week or so until the stitches can come out and he can transfer to a boot but he’ll be back up in no time.”

Natasha nods, she expected all of this really and pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged in the small chair. She didn’t do a cool down after her work-out and she can already feel all of her ligaments tightening up – her hips and knees crack as she adjusts and make Tony wrinkle his nose in obvious disgust. “He was doing pretty good for a while,” she says breezily. Kid’s got natural talent.”

“He can’t walk across a flat surface without tripping,” Tony tells her. “Don’t let all of his Spider-Man acrobatics fool you – Peter’s as clumsy as they come. His aunt should have wrapped him and put him in a bubble years ago.”

She laughs, elbowing Tony in the side and dodging his returning nudge. “He’s good for you,” she tells him honestly and Peter really is. She’s known Tony for a long time, considers him one of her closest friends barring Clint and this is the happiest and most settled she’s ever seen him. It makes her happy.

Tony blushes and clears his throat, trying to hide it but she can see the satisfied little smile on his face. He can’t deny his happiness. “Anyway,” he tries, changing the subject swiftly – she lets him. “You’ll have to help keep him entertained since part of this was your fault after all.”

“Not my problem the kid’s an accident waiting to happen,” she says with no heat. She already plans to hang around during Peter’s recovery. She can teach him more about ballet if he wants, he could shape up to be a pretty decent partner with some practice and she thinks it might help him a little with his balance and enhancements. Control of your body is important for both after all.

Later when Bruce leads them to Peter’s recovery room he gives her a knowing look that she ignores in favor of perching on the edge of the bed and teasing Peter about his poor technique. He’s high as a kite from the enhanced pain meds and cackles at her good natured jokes. Tony threatens to put him in a cushioned room for the rest of his life and Peter rolls his eyes like this is all par for the course.

He falls asleep again pretty quickly, drooling onto the pillow and twitching a little as he dreams and Natasha feels her chest feel with warmth.

Yes, she thinks Peter will make an excellent student.

[creacherkeeper]

sorry if this bothers you but you seemed like a good person to talk to about this. im like 97% sure im autistic and ive done a lot of research but my mom doesn’t believe me because i’m not like the boys she’s seen on youtube. and its just awful because i’m not eighteen yet and im a black girl and i know how parents are important in the diagnosis because of childhood behavior. i just feel like no one will believe me about a diagnosis.

hi nonny

first off, not a bother AT ALL, no worries. im always happy to talk through situations like this

secondly, im sorry for the situation youre in. its one that a lot of autistic people find themselves in, so youre not alone, but its a very difficult thing to go through, especially when youre a minor without access to many resources. so know that someone sees the struggle. when i was trying to get diagnosed my parents were the exact same way. they didnt believe me at all because their only concept of autism came from rainman

so, some advice:

until youre an adult, take this time to learn as much as you can about autism, the autistic community, your own neurodivergence and how it affects you, and whether or not you actually want a diagnosis. having that official word is important for many people, and it gives you access to accommodations at work and school. but there are a lot of drawbacks to a dx as well. in situations where you are forced to disclose, there is a lot of stigma, and people may treat you poorly because of it. depending on where you live, you may be disqualified for live saving medical treatment such as transplants. it makes it infinitely harder to adopt or win custody battles. etc etc. there are many reasons one would choose to get a dx or not, so learn more, talk to people, and take this time to make a decision. if you choose self-dx, know that there are many in the autistic community who chose the same and you are loved and welcome as one of us

if you do chose to get a professional dx, know that its going to be an uphill battle. it's expensive, for one, so if you're planning on attending college or live near a campus, try finding a university teaching psych center that charges on a sliding scale. they're also going to have young professionals who hopefully are more up to date and not so set in the old conception of autism. youre also going to have more of a difficult time getting a diagnosis as a black girl, because so much of the psych field was built on sexism and racism, as well as the inherent ableism of the field. youre doubly more likely to get misdiagnosed with a behavioral or mood disorder, so know that you are allowed to stick up for yourself and be clear about your needs in the process. many (especially older) professional's picture of autism is still 10 year old nonverbal white boys. before seeing someone, ask on the phone (or have someone ask for you) whether or not they have experience diagnosing adults, women, and people of color. that could really make a difference. but also keep in mind that if one person doesnt work out, you can always see someone else. i've been misdiagnosed with things several times, and i choose not to disclose that when seeing new medical or mental health professionals unless its relevant

all that said, you do NOT need your parents to get a diagnosis. mine were not involved in my process at all when i got dx'd at 19, because i knew they would do everything in their power to convince the doctor i wasn't autistic, even if it meant bending the truth or lying. i brought them to my results session, but that was it. they argued with the doctor but she had already made her diagnosis, so it didnt matter. the rest of it was just me and the diagnostician, and i answered all questions about childhood the best i could. its totally fine to write down a list of childhood behaviors or memories before you go in if you think youll forget or miss something. for me the biggest reason i got diagnosed was the hugely variant scores i got on my IQ test, which is a common thing with autism (my scores ranged from low 30s to 99.8th percentile, with not much being average or in the middle). so the diagnostician will not only be looking to childhood or family members. there are plenty of people seeking diagnosis who dont have access to willing family anyway

i think thats all my advice as of now. but i understand how scary the situation is, or how scary it seems while youre in it. if you have any more questions or just need to talk, feel free to message again or dm me. im more than happy to listen or try to help more

[dovechim]

free delivery not included (m)

➾ 7.1k

➾ summary: the premise is simple, really. you’ve been wanting to have a baby ever since you and your husband got married three years ago. Dr Kim Namjoon is the top fertility specialist in town who boasts a 100% success rate. the thing is, your husband has given up on trying to have children, so you find yourself visiting Dr Kim Namjoon in secret, only to realise that his methods are slightly unorthodox. 

➾ warnings: mentions of infidelity and cheating, use of medical equipment (speculum), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), impregnation, creampies, unprofessional behaviour from a medical professional, dirty talk involving humiliation

➾ a/n: a long time ago i said i was doing a fic for every member with this breeding kink and i didn’t know what i was getting myself into... a long time later, here is namjoon’s part :”) huge thanks goes to @jimlingss for as usual hearing my ideas out and hyping me up to write. i’ve been struggling with trying to like my own writing again but having kina’s support really meant a lot. of course, having all of you patient enough to wait for me is a huge motivating factor as well. without further ado, enjoy :) 

Nerves are fluttering in your stomach as you take a queue number from the receptionist and seat yourself in the waiting room. This is most definitely not where you’d ever expect yourself to end up. Casting a quick glance around the room, you surreptitiously turn your wedding ring around so that the diamond on it is hidden and less conspicuous. Everyone else in the waiting room is here with their spouse; you are the only one alone and its painfully obvious.

“______?” The voice comes out of nowhere and jolts you out of your self-conscious worrying.

You spring out of your seat and nod to the receptionist as she directs you to the door at the end of the hallway. Feeling multiple curious eyes on your back, you read the sign on the door before knocking.

Dr Kim Namjoon

Fertility Specialist

“Come in,” a pleasant, timbre voice answers and you slip inside, only to be greeted by a man in tortoiseshell glasses, his blonde hair pushed off his forehead. He motions for you to sit down with a welcoming smile, and his warm presence already puts you a little more at ease.

You smile nervously at him as you take your seat in front of him, adjusting your skirt and tugging it a tad lower to avoid any form of eye contact with the handsome doctor.

“So, _____, what can I do for you today?” Dr Kim smiles as he rests his forearms on the desk, leaning forward. When he smiles his dimples are so prominent that it takes your breath away a little. 

You can feel his attention focused on you, and for some reason this makes you even more nervous, so you drop your gaze down to your hands in your lap, absentmindedly playing with your wedding band in order to keep your nerves at bay. But then you remember that you’re also drawing attention to the fact that you’re married and here without your husband, so you immediately cover your left hand with your right. It’s too late though, with a tiny glance up, you catch Dr Kim’s gaze on your hands in your lap.

Clearing your throat, you pray that he doesn’t ask too many questions. “I-I’m here with concerns. A-about my fertility. I want to have a baby.”

Dr Kim chuckles pleasantly. “Well then, we’ll see what we can do about that. Just some questions for me to get a better sense of where you are in your journey to have a baby. How long have you been trying to get pregnant?”

He whips out a yellow legal pad and a pen to begin taking down notes, and without his piercing caramel eyes on you, you relax slightly; your heartrate slows down and the room in general feels less stuffy.

“I’ve been trying for three years,” you say in a near whisper, automatically wincing for the onflood of sympathy that you’ve come to expect whenever you tell someone about this.

But Dr Kim only nods once as he notes it down. “I see. And have you gone for any medical checkups in the past year? Anything of interest regarding your medical history I should know about?”

“No, I’m all clear,” you are now watching his fountain pen glide across the pages of his notepad with grace and ease, and before you can stop yourself, your eyes travel to the slim grip of his fingers.

“What about your… partner? That is, I’m assuming you have one,” Dr Kim looks up briefly to give you a smile.

“He’s also gone for tests and checkups,” you lace your fingers tightly together, thinking about your loving husband. “But the doctor said there’s no problem with either of us. I just… I don’t know why it’s taking so long. We’re both so desperate… I’mso desperate to have a baby.”

Your voice cracks slightly as emotion wells up in you, and you take a deep breath to center yourself again. “Dr Kim, I heard that you’re the top notch fertility specialist in town. My husband has lost all faith in us ever having a baby so he’s given up hope… he doesn’t know I’m here today. Please, can you help us?”

Dr Kim finishes his notes with a flourish, then he puts down his pen and looks up with a reassuring smile. “First of all, ____, I deeply sympathise with your struggles over the past three years. I know how incredibly emotional and difficult it can be to face such issues, and especially over such a long period of time. You are a very strong and determined woman to come here alone today without your husband. It shows that you don’t give up hope for something that you truly want, and for that I really admire you.”

His words take the tension out of your shoulders and sets you more at ease. You’d read articles about this man online, seen pictures of him even, but in real life he looks even more suave and breathtaking. Every single action and word of his is fuelled by a quiet confidence, a professionalism that is warm and reassuring.

“Over here, we have a 100% success rate with all of our procedures,” Dr Kim goes on. “We are proud to be the first fertility clinic that carries our own supply of sperm curated from our sperm bank.”

“Th-that’s amazing, Dr Kim” you nod as he hands you a brochure, but your eyes are fixed on his handsome smile.

“Please, call me Namjoon. I hope you can be more at ease with me. I want all my patients to think of me as a close friend,” Namjoon pushes his glasses up. “I can definitely help you with having a baby… but first I’d like to ask you what approach you prefer to take.”

You hesitate as you turn over the brochure in your hands. “Approach? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I have several suggestions to help you conceive,” Namjoon says as he points to a list of options on the back of the brochure. “Firstly, IVF. In Vitro Fertilisation, a popular but very costly procedure that can take up to one year to show results. Seeing as you mention your husband not wanting to try any more medical approaches… I think it would be difficult for you to convince him to commit to this.”

“No, you’re right,” you sigh as you read over the estimated cost stated on the brochure. “Not only that, we just don’t have the means to afford that kind of procedure right now.”

Namjoon nods in understanding, and he directs your attention to the next option on the page. “No worries, let’s move on. The second option we have here is sperm donation, the most popular option for most of my patients. This treatment requires a healthy egg, which you definitely fit the requirement of. Like I mentioned before, we have our very own sperm bank here in the clinic, and once you make your decision, after a brief checkup, you can choose to have your first donation as soon as today. That is, if you’re deemed to be ovulating and fertile, of course.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Today? But that’s so soon! I mean, I’d love to see results as soon as possible, but my husband…”

“Ah, yes, he doesn’t know that you’re here, does he?” He shakes his head slightly in apology. “Forgive me if I’m stepping over the line here, but from a medical professional’s perspective, seeing as you and him have been trying to conceive for three years, it might be that your egg and his sperm simply aren’t compatible. If the both of you have gone for fertility checkups, and nothing abnormal has shown up…”

Namjoon’s voice trails off, and he looks at you to gauge your reaction.

“Actually…” your voice is hesitant as you meet his gaze. “I’ve come to that same conclusion myself. And before I came here today, I told myself to be open to the idea of getting sperm from another man. It’s just that… I don’t know how he would take it. Obviously he might not be very open to the idea, so that’s why I came here today without telling him.”

“I see.” Namjoon’s face is completely expressionless except for the muscle that jumps in his clenched cheek as he leans back in his chair. “Do I take it that you wish to receive a sperm donation today? Without your husband knowing?”

His question lingers in the air for a few moments. Your husband can’t possibly blame you for doing this. You’ve been trying for three years with no luck. Maybe it just wasn’t fated for you to have a baby with him. Why should you be deprived of the experience of motherhood just because of fate?

“He really, really wants a baby too,” you say, fully aware that you’re not answering his question. “If this goes on much longer, if I don’t get pregnant soon… he might end up leaving me for some beautiful, young and fertile twenty something.”

“I highly doubt that,” Namjoon shakes his head and holds up his hands. “Excuse me for being inappropriate, but any man who would leave someone like you is an idiot. You’re far too gorgeous for that to happen. And from what I can tell, you’re a strong and determined woman who knows what she wants too. It would only be a loss on his part, believe me.”

His smooth words and charming smile only make the butterflies in your stomach worse. “Dr- Namjoon… you’re used to complimenting women, aren’t you? Is that how you became the top fertility specialist here?”

He lets out a loud chuckle. “My patients feel right at home with me, and what can I say? I know women… intimately. Women like you deserve to be told how beautiful they are, and you deserve to be treated right too.”

Namjoon’s double entendre makes your heart pound in your chest. “You know… you really remind me of my husband. He could sweet talk his way into anyone’s life. That’s pretty much how I fell in love with him… and that’s why I’m worried. A charming and sweet man like you must definitely have a lot of women fawning over him.”

For the first time since the appointment began, you see Namjoon blush a little as he glances away for a moment. It seems like he is not used to being on the opposite side of receiving compliments, but the shy side of him is absolutely adorable. Namjoon pushes his glasses up on his nose a little, and he scratches his neck.

“That’s a wonderful compliment, thank you,” he manages to smile professionally, but only just. “I’m sure your husband knows how lucky he is to have such a wonderful wife like you. But if you’re really worried about that… let me help you. Personally, I want to make sure you have a nice and healthy baby, one that looks just as beautiful and is as kind as you.”

Elation lights up your face as you reach forward to grasp his hands involuntarily. “Thank you so much, Dr Kim!”

Namjoon holds both of your hands in his as he stands, motioning you over to the chair in the corner. “I’ll just do a quick checkup to determine where you are in your cycle right now, and then we can discuss options for the sperm donation. There’s a gown on the back of the chair, if you could just slip off your bottoms and put that on? I’ll give you some privacy.”

Namjoon draws the curtain and leaves you alone to change. Once the curtains are drawn, you slip off your pencil skirt and underwear, putting on the gown that comes down to your knee. When you’re done, you call out to Namjoon again, and he parts the curtain.

“Just hop up there for me will you?” Namjoon holds out his hand toward the chair.

You feel his hand on your waist helping you into the slightly high chair, and he directs your legs into the stirrups that go on either side. Namjoon’s warm hands secure your legs in a comfortable position as he checks in with you frequently. Your legs are now spread wide, and you are aware that your gown has ridden up all the way to your upper thigh.

“When was your last period?” Namjoon is washing his hands over at the sink and pulling on some gloves. He grabs a large container of what you assume must be some kind of lubrication before he pushes a wheeled chair over.

“Um, about… two weeks ago?” You hazard a guess, confirming after you check your period tracking app on your phone. “Exactly two weeks ago.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Namjoon raises his eyebrows in surprise. “That means you could be ovulating right now. I’ll know when I examine your cervix and your discharge, but let me just take a quick blood sample and send that off to the nurses just to be sure.”

He comes over to your side and takes your wrist gently, cleaning your skin with an alcohol wipe before drawing a vial of blood from your arm in the blink of an eye. It doesn’t even hurt, considering the fact that you are deathly afraid of needles, because all through it Namjoon keeps your attention on him with his gentle and soothing voice, and that charming smile of his.

“Let me get that sent off…” Namjoon is frowning in concentration as he scribbles something onto a label and sticks it onto your blood sample before he parts the curtains. A second later he is back again, and he positions himself in between your legs, a gentle touch on your calf. “Results should take about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, let’s see what’s going on here, shall we?”

“That fast?” You comment in surprise. From this angle all you can focus on is how the handsome doctor looks in between your legs, and his warm touch on your skin. “Wow. Technology sure is advanced these days.”

“Sure is,” Namjoon laughs in agreement. “Now just relax for me… I’m going to part your lips now and take a look.”

You can feel Namjoon spreading your lips with two fingers as he peers closely at you, and a heated blush is on your cheeks. You feel extremely exposed in front of this handsome doctor, even more so as his fingers brush across your slit, and you realise that he doesn’t even need any lube at this point. You’re about to hastily come up with some explanation as to why you’re this wet all on your own, but Namjoon saves you the trouble.

“Very nice, there’s some clear discharge indicative of ovulation,” Namjoon smiles as he gently collects some of it on his gloved fingers, showing it to you. “See how it’s so stringy? When I pull my fingers apart it doesn’t break easily. Kind of looks like egg whites.”

You feel his fingers part your lips again and this time, they are probing at your entrance.

“I’m going to slide two fingers in this time, it’s going to go deep so that I can feel your cervix. Tell me if you feel any discomfort, alright?” Namjoon smiles at you before his head disappears between your legs again, and two of his long, slim fingers enter you.

His fingers might have looked slim just now when you were eyeing them, but when they’re deep inside you, you feel a stretch that isn’t uncomfortable, but definitely something to get used to. Your instinct is to clench your walls around his fingers; at this point you just want him to stroke that special spot inside you. You can feel that you are drenching his fingers with your arousal, so there’s no pretending that you aren’t turned on. It must be because of your ovulation that you’re this horny just from getting an examination.

“Relax, you’re clenching really tight around me,” Namjoon’s voice comes off as a relaxed laugh, and you immediately make an effort to relax. “Has it been some time since you had intercourse? You feel really tense.”

“Um, no it hasn’t,” you say truthfully. “My- my husband and I had sex just this week. A few days ago.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums under his breath as he withdraws his fingers a tad. “Then you must be naturally tense. I need to examine your cervix, so I’m going to use a speculum. It might feel a little cold and the stretch might hurt a little, but bear with me.”

Namjoon pulls his fingers out, and your breath comes out all at once at the loss. He turns around and ducks out to grab the needed equipment, returning a moment later with a metal contraption. You’ve had speculums inserted before at previous checkups, so it’s no big deal.

He pours some lubrication onto the part that will be inserted in you, and you try your best to relax for him. With one hand on your inner thigh holding you steady, Namjoon slides the speculum into you, and goes deeper until it nudges at your cervix. Then, he starts to turn the screw on the side so that it begins to spread your walls open slowly, until he gets a clear view of your cervix.

Being spread apart like this and allowing someone else that isn’t your husband to see the most intimate parts of you only adds to the overwhelming rush of arousal that you feel right now. On one hand you feel incredibly immature, having a crush on your fertility doctor and wishing he would just help you with your problem personally, but the more primal part of you argues that it’s perfectly reasonable. This man right here is tall, fit and good looking, he’s smart on top of all that. Why shouldn’t he be the one to give you a baby?

“All looks great here, you are most definitely ovulating, _____,” Namjoon’s voice brings you back to the present. “Cervix is soft and open, so a donation today will greatly increase your chances of success. But we can discuss that more in detail when you’re more comfortable.”

“What do you mean? I’m perfectly comfortable with a thick metal rod in me,” your joke makes him laugh as he places a hand on your inner thigh, closing the speculum and removing it from you.

With some tissue he cleans you up, wiping away some of the lube and your arousal that had smeared on your inner thigh. His gesture feels so intimate and personal that you can’t help but feel the intense desire to feel his fingers without the rubber gloves, or to feel something else of his inside you.

Namjoon glances up as he disposes of the tissue. “I’ll give you a moment, I’ll just be outside and we can discuss the sperm donor that you want.”

He slips out of the curtains, and you pull down the gown, fanning your hot cheeks as you wipe the beads of sweat from your face. Getting down from the chair carefully, you push aside the curtains, leaving your skirt off as you sit in the same chair.

Namjoon is looking through a document. “Good news, the blood test results are in. You are, in fact at the peak of ovulation now. You came at just the right time, ____.”

“Can I really get a donation right now?” You ask as Namjoon turns to type something into his computer, having shed his rubber gloves.

“Of course! In fact, as your doctor I would highly recommend you do it today. If not, you would have to wait until next month,” Namjoon says. After a moment’s consideration, he adds on, “and since you told me you and your husband just had sex recently, it would be reasonable to convince him that it is his child you’re carrying.”

There is a weighted pause as the consequences of what you’re about to do sinks in. You’re at a fertility clinic, ovulating and about to receive a sperm donation from a complete stranger. Then you’re going to go home and in a few weeks, tell your husband that you’re pregnant with his baby.

You take a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll do it today. What are the options for sperm donors?”

“Here at our clinic, we use fresh sperm samples, we never freeze them. This is to allow for maximum success rate for our patients. I can open up the database of donors that we currently have fresh samples from, and you can take a look and choose from there,” Namjoon says as he types at his keyboard, scrolling through and clicking a few times. There is a slight frown on his face as he opens a few files.

“Is something wrong, Namjoon?”

“No, no, it’s just…” Namjoon pauses to type a few more things and hits enter with a look of frustration on his face. “It’s very strange. Somehow, our database only has one donor right now. I’m not sure if this is an error, because we ensure that we have at least 20 donors at any one time…”

“Who’s the one sperm donor?” You ask out of curiosity.

“It’s a Jeon Jungkook, 50 years old with a Bachelor’s Degree at… Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry…” Namjoon looks at your troubled expression and clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I thought so too. Let me just make some calls and check if there are any other donors.”

The normally cool and composed fertility specialist looks a little frantic as he picks up his desk phone and starts to dial a number, but then you put your hands over his.

“Namjoon, it’s okay. I decided which donor I want,” you give him a confident smile as he looks up in surprise, slowly putting down the phone.

“What? You want… a 50 year old man?” Namjoon shakes his head in confusion. “Who graduated from Hogwarts?”

“No. I want you to be my sperm donor, Dr Kim.”

A shocked silence settles in between the two of you for a moment as Namjoon’s eyes widen. “B-but that would mean… your husband. You don’t want him to know right?”

“That’s right. I want my husband to think the baby is his. But in reality, it would be your baby,” you withdraw your hands from Namjoon’s and sit back in your chair. “To be honest, Doctor, I’ve been attracted to you the moment I walked in. I want my baby to be as smart as you. I hope you can give me a baby boy that will look exactly like you.”

Before the doctor can say anything else, you go on.

“You said you only use fresh samples here at the clinic right? Without any freezing,” you recall his words from earlier. “It’s just… today is the perfect day for me to get a sperm sample,” you direct your gaze at his lips with a small sigh as you say this, completely committed to your role now. “I don’t see why we should let this opportunity go to waste. You can give me a fresh sperm sample right here and right now.”

“_____, I- I don’t know what to say… your husband…” Namjoon fumbles over his words; he has trouble looking you in the eye. “A-are you saying you want me to inseminate you? Is that really what you want? Tell me.”

You stand up from your seat and make your way around the table so that you are standing beside his chair. “Yes, Doctor. I want you to give me the baby my husband couldn’t. I want to have yourbaby.”

You slide your body into his lap, feeling the crisp material of his dress pants on your thighs as Namjoon’s arms circle your waist to help you sit on him properly. His thighs feel firm under you, and his mouth is now dangerously close to your neck. You can feel his body is tense under yours, a sharp intake of breath at your words.

“Is that so? What an unfaithful wife you are.” Namjoon admonishes you, and his breath ghosts over your skin. “Asking another man to give her a baby. Tell me, has anyone other than your husband fucked you before?”

“No, not even once,” your breath is speeding up now as Namjoon caresses your waist tenderly, bidding you to spread your thighs slightly to get more comfortable on his lap. “I love my husband. I really do. But I just want a baby so bad. I’d do anything.”

“Who am I to deny such a beautiful woman the experience of motherhood?” Namjoon hums under his breath, kissing the skin just behind your ear. “If a gorgeous woman such as you says she wants a baby, then it’s my duty not only as a doctor to obey… but as a man too.”

“Please…” you can feel your thighs getting slick with your arousal, and Namjoon helps you onto your feet.

“We have to do this the proper way, to ensure maximum success rate,” Namjoon directs you to the chair again, and draws the curtains firmly shut. “Thankfully, you’re my last patient today, so we can take as long as we like. By the time you walk out of this clinic, you’ll definitely be pregnant.”

You lie back in the chair with his help, not missing the way his hands are soft and gentle, making sure your head is supported against the headrest, and your legs are comfortably spread in each stirrup. From your vantage point, you can see Namjoon begin to take off his white doctor’s coat and reveal his white dress shirt and black pants underneath, but you stop him.

“Doctor, please keep it on,” you say, reaching out to grab his wrist. “I always had a thing for the whole hospital fantasy.”

Namjoon relents, turning around as he palms the growing bulge in his dress pants. “Does your husband know about this… fantasy?”

“No,” you answer truthfully as your eyes drop to take in the tent at the front of his pants. “No, he doesn’t know. Doctor, why don’t you make yourself more comfortable? It looks like you haven’t been able to… let go of some tension for a while.”

“What would your husband say if he saw you now? On your back with your legs spread… about to get a baby fucked into you by her fertility specialist,” Namjoon tsks under his breath as he situates himself between your legs, stroking your thighs softly. “What a pretty pussy too. Just begging to be eaten.”

“He- he would never find out,” you gasp and your back comes off the chair as Namjoon’s head disappears in between your legs, and you feel his tongue against your inner thigh. His fingers spread your lips again the way he did before, and then he is giving you open mouthed kisses directly against your clit, making your thighs shake and tremble.

You can’t see anything with the gown in the way, so with one hand you push it up to your waist. Namjoon’s blonde hair in between your thighs greets you, but the man himself is busy stroking his tongue against your clit, your juices all over his chin.

“So fucking sweet. I must say, I’ve never had the privilege to taste any of my patients before, but I bet you’re the sweetest of them all,” Namjoon places his thumb on your clit in slow circles, making eye contact with you before his tongue slides into your pussy.

Watching your fertility doctor eat you out like this must be a dream, you feel as if you’re in heaven especially when Namjoon switches to suckling your clit, and pushes two fingers deep in you. His fingers are long and nimble, hitting your sweet spot exactly right, and the delicious friction from his mouth just about sends you over the edge.

But just before you feel the knot in your lower belly snap, Namjoon pulls away with a satisfied smile, licking his lips and wiping the back of his chin with his hand.

“No cumming yet. You’ll conceive better if you orgasm with my cum right up against your cervix.” Namjoon knows exactly what a tease he’s being as he begins to unbuckle his belt, lowering his zipper and feeling the immense pressure against his cock subside just a little.

The sight of his cock awakens your desperation all over again. He is blessed both in length and girth; you surmise that the fertility specialist must be just as excited to give you a baby as you are, seeing as his cock is already fully hard. You feel a flutter of nerves as Namjoon strokes his cock and positions himself in between your legs. Trying to remember how big your husband’s cock is so that you can compare it to Namjoon’s is futile. All you can concentrate on is Namjoon as he fondles your clit, pushing three fingers inside you to prepare you.

“Please, doctor,” you push your hips toward him as a protest. Your eyes lower to his cock, already red and leaking, wishing you could wrap your hand around him and feel how warm and heavy he is. “It’s been so… hardfor me to have a baby. Please help me and my husband.”

“Don’t worry, just lie back and let me do all the work,” Namjoon pushes his underwear down, giving himself a few strokes and hissing in pleasure. His cock is engorged and angry, precum already dripping from the tip onto your inner thigh.

You can feel the head of his cock nudge against your lower lips, and your stomach tenses in excitement of finally feeling him inside you. “You feel so much bigger than my husband… fuck. A cock like that is sure to give me a baby… not like my pathetic husband.”

Namjoon places his hands on your thighs, hooking them around his waist as he begins to push the tip of his cock into you. The expression on his face is strained, his jaw is clenched at your words. The lubrication of your arousal and his precum allows him to slide in easily, but the stretch makes you wince and Namjoon swears under his breath.

“Fuck, such a tight pussy. I suspected so when I examined you just now, but it seems like even the speculum couldn’t loosen you up enough hmm?” Namjoon pauses for a moment to give you time to adjust, even though he’s barely even an inch deep. “Looks like your useless husband hasn’t been fucking you properly, or else you wouldn’t still be this tight.”

“Please fuck me properly then,” you hook your ankles around his back in an attempt to get his cock even deeper. “Show me how much better you are compared to my husband. When he fucked me I could barely even feel it.”

“Oh, you’ll feel this one alright,” Namjoon agrees with a laugh and a deep thrust of his hips that sends his cock halfway into your depths. Your walls are stretched to accommodate him, but you only urge him on, anxious to feel him all the way. Namjoon accedes to your whines and withdraws just a tad, then fucks you deep until he is buried balls deep in your pussy.

Namjoon leans over the chair to smooth a strand of hair out of your face as he presses a hand to your abdomen. “See this? I can feel my cock all the way here. Could your pathetic little husband do this?”

The veneer of professionalism is gone now as the filthy words begin to pour from his mouth. His hand is on your lower belly, where there is a slight bump from his cock being so deep inside you, and you gasp when he brings your hand down to feel it too. Never have you been penetrated so deep before, and yet the thickness of his cock leaves you almost breathless as Namjoon applies a light pressure on your lower belly.

“This is where I’ll be when I cum,” Namjoon strokes the soft skin of your belly. “Right up against your womb. Giving you a nice load of fresh sperm. Unlike your husband, I am perfectly healthy to fuck a baby into you. No pathetic weak shots of cum. No, my loads are so thick, you’ll feel every spurt against your soft, ripe little cervix.”

“Fuck me please,” you are begging, the torture of just feeling his thick length embedded inside you without even moving is getting to be too much. You attempt to push your hips against him just to feel some friction, but Namjoon’s strength pins you down to the chair. “Give me a baby.”

Namjoon pulls out and sinks back in so fast that your thighs twitch around him, hugging him closer and begging for him to go deeper and harder. Slaps of skin against skin begin to echo around the room, and soon you can feel how wet you are, dripping down your ass and completely soaking Namjoon’s heavy balls that are slapping against you.

“Yeah? You want a baby?” Namjoon’s thrusts are heavy, punishing, as if you deserve it for being such and unfaithful wife who would ask another man to give her a baby. “Whose baby do you want? Your husband’s?”

His cock seems to be splitting you apart. Your pussy is crying for relief, yet you want more of his brutal fucking. Every thrust brings his cock head right to the entrance of your womb, tapping your cervix gently as he reminds you where his cum will end up. When you don’t answer, Namjoon stops thrusting as a punishment.

“Tell me, whose baby do you want?” Namjoon asks again, rubbing his thumb against your clit and making you cry out. “You want your husband to give you a baby?”

“No!” You scream, body thrashing under him, and legs tightening around his slim waist. “I want yours. I want your baby, Doctor Kim.”

Satisfied with your answer, Namjoon resumes thrusting, abandoning his grip around your thighs as he circles your slim waist with his hands to pull you onto his cock. “This flat belly is going to be so round. Even after you’re pregnant, you’re going to keep coming back here aren’t you? Because you can’t resist a good fuck, and no one other than me can give you that.”

“Please, pl-ease,” you voice is barely there, your throat is dry. “Please keep fucking me. Even after you give me a baby.”

Namjoon chuckles as his cock sinks in deep, and he feels your walls flutter around him. “I’ll consider it after sales service for my best patient.”

You can feel your orgasm right there, just out of reach. Your clit is swollen and abused, throbbing just for a little friction that would send you over the edge. Fucked out and completely at his mercy, Namjoon places your legs back on the stirrups, spread wide as they can go as he continues with his punishing thrusts.

“Consider yourself lucky, _____” Namjoon’s thrusts are faltering as he swears under his breath. “I haven’t jerked off in nearly two weeks. You’re getting a huge load today. I hope you’re ready to get pregnant.”

You watch his sweaty face as he pushes his hair off his forehead, glasses slightly askew. His cheeks are rosy with exertion, and you want nothing more than to kiss his plush lips. “I’ve been ready for the past three years, Doctor. I want it. Give me all your cum and give me the baby I always wanted.”

Namjoon seems to want to say something else, but decides against it as he devotes the rest of his energy into his thrusts, pumping his cock in and out of you as you feel him start to twitch against your walls. The composure on his face is slowly slipping away as he pants hard against your skin, leaning over to support himself on the arm rests on either side of you as he fucks you good and deep.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I can’t hold off much longer,” Namjoon is panting hard as he groans with exertion and pleasure. “Here it comes. Ahhhh, fuuuuck. Take it all. Take all my fucking cum!”

You gasp as he buries his cock to the hilt, feeling him hit your cervix hard one last time as he explodes. Rope after rope of warm cum drenches your womb, and you can feel his cock pulsing as he gives you every drop of his seed. After the first ten or so strong pulses of semen, it starts to slow down a little, and Namjoon thrusts in and out gently, making sure the last few spurts of cum still get as deep as possible.

It feels so wet and warm that you can’t help but relax as your pussy tightens around him to drain him dry. You can’t tell if Namjoon filled you up so much that you’re already leaking his cum, or if it’s just your arousal. Namjoon is still lazily thrusting away in your pussy, and his slower, gentler pace feels nice, but not quite what you need to reach your own orgasm.

After a minute or two, Namjoon slowly pulls out, making sure none of the cum escapes your pussy. He immediately reaches for a setting on the chair to tilt it backwards so that your hips are escalated slightly, and he secures your legs in the stirrups, making sure they’re still spread.

“We doing okay?” He comes over to stroke your hair and wipe away some of the smeared mascara on your cheek.

“I’m fine, doctor,” your eyes are closed and you are savouring the feeling of being warm and full of cum. Your pussy is still throbbing.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” Namjoon’s voice is soft as he moves away, fully aware that you haven’t cum yet.

To your surprise, a moment later you feel something metallic being inserted into your pussy again, and you open your eyes. Namjoon is back between your legs, and you realise that he’s putting the speculum back inside you and widening it so that he can see your cum drenched cervix once more.

“Just making sure you absorb all of that cum,” Namjoon reassures you with his ever gentle, reassuring hands on your skin. “Close your eyes and enjoy yourself, _____. Let me take care of everything.”

Namjoon positions himself so that he can see the flood of white cum coating your insides, and the pool of his semen just lying there. Your cervix is doing its best to soak it all up, but a little help wouldn’t hurt. Stroking your thighs gently, he places his thumb on your clit and rubs it in circles at the pace he knows you like, and sure enough, your body tenses up and your legs shake in the stirrups.

“You’re so close aren’t you?” Namjoon keeps his voice low, reaching for a medical sample jar that he had used to catch all the cum that spilled out when he inserted the speculum into your swollen pussy. He unwraps a sterile syringe to draw up the rest of the cum inside the jar. “Just need a few strokes to cum. Good girl. That’s my good girl… just relax and cum for me.”

His fingers speed up over your clit, and his eyes are drawn to the fascinating sight that is your cervix. With every tightening of your walls, your cervix is expanding and contracting, greedily swallowing down all of his cum so that the pool of semen inside you grows less and less. When you orgasm with a small whine of his name, toes curling and thighs shaking, Namjoon squirts the contents of the syringe into your womb, emptying it thoroughly as he drops a kiss on your knee.

As you calm down from your orgasm, Namjoon watches to make sure the pool of cum inside you is more or less swallowed down by your greedy cervix, before he unscrews the speculum and eases it out of you. He glances up at your face and your eyelids are droopy, chest rising up and down slowly as he helps you get your legs out of the stirrups and places them together on the chair.

“You did so well, that’s my good girl,” Namjoon comes around to kiss your forehead and stroke your cheek. “I think that’ll do it. Just rest here for a few minutes.”

“Come here baby,” you stretch out your hands for a hug, and Namjoon obliges. “How was that? Was my acting good enough?”

“Almost too real,” Namjoon admits with a laugh. “You really got me worked up there with that whole ‘my husband doesn’t know’ thing. When I said surprise me, I didn’t expect you to come up with such an elaborate scheme. I mean, you really went all the way with that roleplay!”

“So you were really shocked to see me walk in here?” You let go of him with a devious grin on your face. But then another though occurs to you. “Wait. 50 year old Mr Jeon Jungkook from Hogwarts? Did you make that up too?”

“Unfortunately I didn’t make that donor up. I think it’s a real error in our database. Probably some stupid young punk who wanted to make a quick buck and troll us at the same time…” Namjoon sighs as he shakes his head and adjusts his glasses, mumbling to himself about the calls he needs to make and the people he needs to sack. A second later, he frowns. “You’re lucky that you really are my last patient. And the whole ovulation thing- did you plan that too?”

“I thought you would have noticed since you got a notification about my ovulation on the app… but this morning you just left for work like normal,” you sit up in your chair and face him, watching his face dawn with realisation.

“Wait, that means… do you… really want to have a baby with me?” Namjoon takes your hand in his, barely able to conceal his excitement. “You’re finally ready?”

“We’ve been married for almost three years so if I don’t pop out like… ten babies for you, people are going to be doubting your capabilities,” you shrug nonchalantly, but there is a genuine smile on your face. “I’m doing it for the sake of your professional career, that’s all. And also, it’s nice to have a qualified specialist taking care of me for free.”

Namjoon is still shocked at your revelation, but he sees right through your wry comment. “I guess not everything in roleplay has to be just pretend. I’m Dr Kim Namjoon after all, and I always keep my promises.” He puts his arm around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head, one hand resting on your lower belly. “I might get you pregnant for free, but I charge for delivery.”

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 3: Cracks and Buds (originally published on December 21, 2020)

Author's note: Like I said last chapter, this will be where things get interesting and diverge a bit from the original version of Future. In addition to merging Rose Buds with Volleyball, A Very Special Episode will mostly be skipped since while I did enjoy that one, it pretty much rendered itself non-canon by the end. However, elements of that will be incorporated into the final episode of Part 1. But I've been talking too much, let's get on with the show!

Synopsis: Steven is forced to air out more of his mother's dirty laundry when Pink Pearl and a group of Rose Quartzes visit Earth.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst, Ocean Jasper, Lace Amethyst, Famethyst

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl, Pink Pearl, Shell, Mega Pearl

Tom Scharpling as Greg

Kimberly Brooks as Shy Rose, Superfan Rose, Hippie Rose, Angel Aura Quartz, Zebra Jasper, Biggs Jasper, Carnelian, Skinny Jasper

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

Amy Sedaris as Teal Zircon

Lamar Abrams as Wy-Six

Cristina Vee as Jay-Ten

Dee Bradley Baker as Lion

Noël Wells as ?

--

"Thanks for stopping by to help me with this painting while I help some of these Gems today TZ." Steven, wearing a doctor's uniform, thanked Teal Zircon while she stood before a painting of her former leader Rose Quartz. "Seeing this after all I've been through recently is kinda making me uncomfortable, so I want it moved somewhere else."

"Can do Steven!" Teal exclaimed while keeping her eyes on the painting, contemplating what to do with it. "Now where to put this."

First, Teal tried hanging the portrait above the temple gate. "Naw, no good."

Next, Teal went up to Steven's conservatory and thought Rose's serene expression would fit well among the greenery, but then changed her mind. "Hm, needs to be more grandiose."

Then, she tried going up to the temple's hand and hung it on one of the fingers. "Nice view, but I'm not sure."

Warping back down to Steven, Teal Zircon carried the Rose Quartz painting over to the kitchen and leaned it against the trashcan. "Hey Steven, you think this is a good spot?!" she called to Steven, who had just wrapped up healing a Ruby.

"Wait, in the garbage?" Steven asked as he walked over to the painting near the trash. "Why would you choose that place?"

"Well, it's simple really." Teal explained. "Y'all think Rose is trash now so therefore, she belongs with actual trash."

"No, it's not like that!" Steven objected to the Zircon's decision. "Rose may have done some highly questionable things, like faking her own death as Pink Diamond and lying to both sides for thousands of years, but that doesn't mean she should just be thrown away like that!" Before Steven could continue, there was a knock at the door. "Hang on, gotta take this."

When Steven opened the front door, he was greeted with tons of Quartzes with cracked gems and physical deformities. "Volleyball must've gotten real wild, eh?"

"You said it!" Biggs Jasper replied, sticking out a finger that had an eyeball at its tip.

--

A few minutes later, all the Quartzes were back to normal thanks to Steven, and they returned to their volleyball game while he waved them off. "Come again!" Steven cried. "But not like, too soon. Remember, volleyball isn't a contact sport!"

"Yo Schtu-ball!" Steven's father Greg called for him while he walked towards the beach house with Amethyst in tow. "Did you and that crazy Zircon find a good place for that painting yet?"

"No can do." Teal answered with a shake of her head.

"What she said." Steven agreed. "After everything that's happened lately, I don't know if I still want her hanging over us, y'know?"

"Hey, speaking of pink Gems, I think someone might wanna talk with you." Amethyst said, and she & Greg moved out of the way to reveal Pink Diamond's former Pearl standing behind them.

"Oh, it's you!" Steven exclaimed, recognizing Pink Pearl from when he managed to free everyone from White Diamond's control, including her. "What brings you to Earth?"

"I came here because I heard you might be able to help with this." The Pearl said, stepping forward while gesturing to her hideously cracked eye that extended to parts of her face and even a small portion of her hair.

"Well step right on in!" Teal Zircon exclaimed before she and Steven walked Pink Pearl into the house and sat her down. "You came to the right guy. You should've been here earlier. He was able to fix up all these Quartzes, including one that had an eye growing on her finger!"

"Thanks TZ, but let me take care of this." Steven said. "I'll have you fixed up in a jiffy." He began to lick his palm, which grossed Pink Pearl out. "Don't worry, it may seem gross but it gets the job done." He placed his healing saliva-covered palm on his patient's gem and waited for her eye to be healed. But sadly, nothing happened.

"Did it work?" Pink Pearl quietly asked.

"Maybe you should try touching her eye?" Teal suggested.

"That's exactly what I was going to say." Steven stated before he licked his hand again. This time, the spit went on Pink Pearl's injured eye. But just like last time, nothing happened. "This can't be right!" he said to himself. Steven rushed over to a plant and plucked off a leaf to double-check. He tapped on the stem the leaf came from, and out of it came a bouquet of flowers. "It's alright, my powers are fine."

"But what if there's something more to this?" TZ guessed, sitting down where Steven once sat right across from Pink Pearl. "Tell me, I've been told you were controlled by White Diamond once. I know this might be a touchy subject, but is there anything you remember from that time?"

"Nope!" Pink answered. "8,000 years just, blip! Gone!"

"So you don't remember getting cracked in the first place?" Steven asked.

"Oh no no." Steven's patient corrected him. "This was from before."

"So White must've hurt you at some point!" Teal guessed earnestly. "Is that right?"

"Oh stars, no!" Pink Pearl stated. "This was all Pink Diamond's doing!"

"My mom?!" Steven yelped at this revelation and began tensing up, turning a little pink in the process.

"Told you." TZ muttered, unintentionally making Steven more nervous already until Pink Pearl let out a gasp.

"Are you okay?" Pink Pearl asked Steven, who began to ease up more thanks to her.

"Sorry, it's just baggage." Steven let out a sigh of exhaustion. "And thanks a lot Teal."

"Oop, sorry!" Teal giggled nervously. "No hard feelings?"

"It's fine." Steven said to Teal and turned back to Pink Pearl. "Anyway, I think I know just the Pearl to help us fix you!"

--

As Steven took Pink Pearl outside, Amethyst joined the two as they began searching for Pearl. "So, I take it fixing her eye was a no-go?" she asked.

"You're right, and that's why we're looking for Pearl." Steven said. "You know where she is?"

Before Amethyst could answer, a stray volleyball zoomed past her, Steven and Pink Pearl. Right in front of them, the same group of Quartzes Steven healed earlier were playing a very aggressive round with Pearl serving as the referee.

"Think fast!" Angel Aura Quartz yelled before she spiked the ball towards Zebra Jasper's head, followed by Pearl blowing the whistle.

"Next set!" Pearl declared before she noticed Steven. "Oh, if it isn't my favorite medical professional. How's your clinic going?"

"Hey Pearl, you got a moment for she and Steven here?" Amethyst asked, pointing to Pink Pearl.

"Sure." Pearl accepted as she looked at Pink Pearl. "Did you come to compete?"

"Pardon?" Pink Pearl asked confusedly.

"I mean, in the volleyball tournament." The other Pearl blushed awkwardly.

"Actually, we came here because we need your help." Steven said.

"Okay, what can I do for you?" Pearl asked the two.

"So, this is Pearl." Steven introduced Pink Pearl to Pearl. "She was Mom's, I mean, Pink Diamond's Pearl too, a long time ago." Unfortunately for Steven, introductions quickly got confusing. "And Pearl, you remember Pearl? She was also Pink Diamond's Pearl, AGH! That's too many Pearls!" he snapped in befuddlement. "We should probably give you a nickname."

"A nickname?" Pink Pearl blushed in surprise.

"Yeah, a nickname." Steven repeated.

"Like how Steven calls Teal Zircon stuff like Teal or TZ." Amethyst said. "Maybe we could put an eyepatch over that eye and call you Captain Pearl!"

"Oh, I know what a nickname is." Pink Pearl stated. "It just reminds me of how Pink Diamond once gave silly little names to everything." She added, reminiscing on her former owner with a longing stare. "She was so funny like that."

"Looks like someone's still holding a torch, am I right?" Amethyst snarked. "Now if only I had an eyepatch lying around."

"How about-" Steven began just before a volleyball hit him in the face, and an idea hit him just as hard. "Volleyball!"

"Volleyball? You're so funny!" Pink Pearl, now known as Volleyball, blushed with a cute giggle. "You're just like her."

"No, I'm not like," Steven yipped in surprise. "Anyway, we're here because of the crack on-"

Steven was cut off however by the beach growing darker as a large rumbling sound rang out, and an equally large dagger-like silhouette descended towards them.

"Uh guys, is that who I think it is?" Greg rushed to join the Gems, as the shape grew closer to the Earth.

"Um, is whoever's in there with you?" Volleyball asked nervously.

"Yep." Steven answered, before the Human Zoo docked itself right in front of him. "They're with us."

--

"Ste-Van, greetings!" Wy-Six, one of the humans inhabiting Pink Diamond's former human zoo, merrily greeted Steven alongside Jay-Ten through the communicator in Steven's conservatory.

"Jay-Ten, Wy-Six, how did you get your space station all the way to Earth?" Steven asked just as cheerfully.

"We took the Zoo ship and made it into a cruise ship!" Jay-Ten answered.

"Um, I don't think I was told there were humans that made it to space." Volleyball stated.

"You were still under White's control when Pink had this human zoo made for her." Pearl suggested to Volleyball just as Greg, Amethyst and Teal Zircon arrived in the conservatory. "I'll fill you in later."

"Oh hey Jay-Ten. Hey Wy-Six." Greg nervously greeted the two Zoomans, whose pleasant expressions turned sour in his presence. "I haven't seen y'all since the Choosening!"

"You mean since you DIDN'T choosen us?!" Wy-Six said angrily. "Don't you have any sound discs to listen to in your wheeled conveyance?"

"Yes, yes I do." Greg replied as he nervously walked away from the conversation.

"Now that he is gone, we'd love it if you came by for a visit." Wy-Six offered.

"Sure thing." Steven accepted the offer. "Is it okay if Amethyst came along and saw the Famethyst?"

"You're right, I gotta introduce the Quartzes to them!" Amethyst exclaimed before preparing to run off. "Oh we're gonna have such a ball!"

"As long as she is not Ga-Reg, she is welcome." Jay-Ten smiled.

--

Since Steven had last been there, the Human Zoo had received a massive overhaul. Now that Era 3 came with the end of the caste system, the Famethyst and the Zoomans essentially took over control of the zoo from Holly Blue Agate and turned it into a paradise for themselves.

"Ste-Van, welcome to our cah-ruse!" Wy-Six declared, introducing Steven, Pearl, Volleyball, Amethyst and the Little Homeschool Quartzes to the new & improved Human Zoo.

"Wow, it looks so much different that last time." Pearl gasped in astonishment at how much change they brought to the space station.

"Um, was it always like this?" Volleyball asked the Zoomans.

"Kind of." Jay-Ten said to the Pearl. "We were descended from humans that were taken here and choosened, but it's all different now for us while the Amethysts and Jaspers laze around like delinquents! Am I right Holly Blue?"

"Stop relaxing and get back to your posts, you low class twits!" Holly Blue yelled orders to the relaxing Amethysts, despite the fact that she no longer had power over them. "How can anyone function with this total lack of order?!"

"Aw come on Holly, chill out." A Carnelian the size of Amethyst said while another Amethyst put a flower crown on the angry Agate's head. "You know you want to."

"I give up. No one answers to me, and I answer to no one." Holly Blue kept ranting, unaware that Steven and Volleyball were standing behind her. "I'd give anything for an order from the Diamonds, but all they ever talk about is Steven, Steven, Steve-STEVEN?!"

"Hi Holly!" Steven casually greeted Holly Blue. The Agate gave a stink-eye to Volleyball before nervously shuffling away while performing the Diamond salute, and ran off as her former subordinates laughed at her expense.

"Soon boy. Soon." Holly growled under her breath as she ripped the flower crown off her head and the doors slowly closed behind her. "That Pearl we made into a sleeper agent better work."

"Bye Holly." Steven said just as casual, unaware of what Holly Blue murmured.

"Yo, Famethyst!" Amethyst called to her fellow Quartzes. "Meet some of my new homies!"

"AMETHYST!" the Famethyst cried out happily before Amethyst spin-dashed towards the group and knocked them all down like they were bowling pins.

"Hey, you came here with Amethyst here?" a very skinny Jasper asked Zebra Jasper as she held up Amethyst. "You guys are gonna love it here."

As the large group of Quartzes laughed and played together, Steven looked on with a grin. "What a weird, happy family."

"Ste-van, we have some special friends we'd like you and your Pearls to meet." Wy-Six said to Steven and the Pearls before he led them out of the Zoo.

"They wanted to meet us?" Pearl asked in total confusion.

"Yes, it is they who wanted to come with us to Earth." Jay-Ten replied before they stood in front of the door that led to a room where so many Rose Quartz gems were bubbled by the Diamonds. "We cannot wait to see the look upon your faces when you see their faces! Ooh, here they come!"

The door opened, and standing before Steven, Pearl & Volleyball was a Rose Quartz with a face and hair eerily similar to the Rose that Pink Diamond had disguised as. While Steven and Pearl stood wide-eyed in shock, Volleyball was still left in the dark.

"Yes, that's the look we wanted to see!" Wy-Six exclaimed.

"I suppose she looks familiar to you?" Volleyball asked her friends, who were still silent in alarm as two more Roses, a medium pink-colored messy haired Rose with her gem on her shoulder and another with her gemstone on her chest and slightly straighter hair of a lighter color, rushed out of the room, where tons more formerly bubbled Rose Quartzes frolicked about.

"S-s-so many Rose Quartzes." Steven finally stuttered in surprise. "But how?"

"Now that it's Era 3, we were all unbubbled, so now we're making up for lost time!" the shoulder-gem Rose revealed excitedly while shaking Steven's hand. "Hi, I'm Rose Quartz! And you, you must be Steven!" she added while picking the boy up. "You're so much smaller than I thought you'd be! Is it because you're half-organic? Isn't he amazing Rose Quartz?"

"It's, like, we were bubbled but, like, now we're not." The chest-gem Rose pointed out while speaking like a hippie while her super-excitable companion presented Steven to her.

"Uh yeah, it's really great." Steven laughed awkwardly. "I'm glad to see you're adjusting well."

"Oh, isn't Steven just the best?!" the hyperactive Rose exclaimed. "You're so kind and friendly and brave and smart and handsome and gentle, and we haven't seen the Earth since we first emerged! Tell us, what's it like living there?"

The familiar-looking Rose Quartz peeked out from behind the hippie-like Rose, continuing to make Steven & Pearl nervous while Volleyball still looked befuddled.

"I'm sorry, what?" Pearl stuttered.

"You know, the planet you live on, Earth!" the happy Rose shouted as she lowered Steven to the ground. "What's a day in the life like for a hero like you?"

"Well, most days I am pretty busy." Steven answered shyly. "I wake up pretty early and-"

"Where's your house at?" the hippie Rose interrupted with a question of her own.

"Oh, we have a beautiful view of the ocean." Pearl answered.

"I've never seen the ocean before!" the exuberant Rose said, placing a hand on Steven's shoulder.

"I've never smelled it before." Her relaxed friend added as she placed a hand on Steven's other shoulder, making him even more disturbed. "Speaking of smell, what's it like breathing?"

"It's mostly nitrogen." Steven explained. "My friend Connie says-"

"I bet you sleep ALL the time!" the Rose that had pretty much become Steven's new number one fan cheered.

"Well, not all the time." Steven replied. "I only need eight to ten hours of sleep at night at my age."

"What's it like eating food?" the fangirling Rose squealed eagerly.

"W-w-w-well why don't you come to dinner and find out?!" Steven blurted out while looking at the shy Rose with a massive degree of unease. "That is, if you want?"

"I'm still lost. Why are Rose Quartzes such a touchy subject for you?" Volleyball piped up, breaking up the tension.

"Oh ye of little faith." Pearl declared as she put a hand on her fellow Pearl's shoulder. "You have so much to learn."

Just then, the Quartzes suddenly arrived via conga line led by Amethyst; seemingly unaware of what just happened. "Yo Steven!" Amethyst cried, before she turned catatonic at the sight of the Rose Quartzes with Steven and the Pearls. "Uh, what did I miss?"

"Family reunion." Steven answered meekly before the Quartzes conga-lined away. "So what do you say girls?"

"I'd love to Steven!" the shoulder Rose cheered and gave Steven a big hug. "Come on guys, Steven's having us over!"

"Like, wow man." The chest Rose replied. "You really are a real sweet guy Steven."

"You go on ahead, I'll catch up later!" Volleyball laughed while Steven and Pearl walked away with the Roses. When she was left completely alone, Volleyball hesitantly knocked on the wall and a peephole opened up. "I've come to report Holly Blue."

"Excellent, at least I have one bright spot." Holly Blue sighed happily from the other side of the wall. "Can you give me any important info?"

"Yes. Apparently this Rose Quartz they once spoke so highly of is a rather uncomfortable subject for the Crystal Gems." Volleyball said nervously. "I could see it in Steven, the Pearl and the Amethyst's eyes when they met those Rose Quartzes."

"The boss will like this." Holly Blue purred mischievously. "Return to that boy at once and see what else you can gather."

"That reminds me, I think I'd like to back out of this revolution." Volleyball murmured. "I know it's because of Pink Diamond that I'm like this, but Steven is barely anything like her! He even gave me a nickname!"

"You one-eyed moron!" the Agate yelled at the Pearl. "Our master has brought us together in the first place because Steven bent all of Homeworld to their knees by being a controlling brat, just like how Pink constantly threw tantrums because she didn't get what she wanted! Is that clear Pink Pearl?!"

Volleyball didn't listen however, and instead walked faraway from Holly Blue. "I still won't have any part in this." She declared hotly. "And by the way, they call me Volleyball now."

"What kind of stupid nickname is that?!" Holly shrieked furiously. "Get back and do as you're told, like the slave you are!" Her yelling fell on deaf ears and Volleyball was gone, leaving Holly to panic. "The master will not like this."

--

"He's cutting one of those carrot beans again." The excitable Rose announced as she, her fellow Roses, Garnet and Pearl watched Steven cut up some carrots on his dinner plate. "Going up…..into…his mouth!" she continued before Steven picked up a piece of carrot to eat. "Ah, and it's gone! No one can eat a carrot bean like you!"

"I've been doing this for most of my life now." Steven said, still unnerved by the Roses' obsession with him. "I'd hope that-"

"Hey Scthu-Ball!" Greg cheerfully greeted his son as he entered the beach house. "Any idea when the Zoomans will leave? I haven't had this many of my exes visiting since-"

"You must be Steven's human dad!" Shoulder Rose exclaimed. "Hi, how are you?!"

Greg completely stopped in his tracks at the sight of the three Roses, especially the one that looked almost exactly like his late wife. "I can feel the rest of my hair falling out."

Just as Greg was about to leave, Steven tried to stop him. "Don't go Dad. You wanna join us for dinner?"

"Nope!" Greg answered without hesitation, and left just as quickly as he came. As Mr. Universe left, Volleyball finally returned to Steven.

"Hi everybody, sorry I took so long." Volleyball fibbed. "Amethyst wanted me to stay a while."

"Uh…" Steven muttered.

"Okay, now back to this eating thing!" Shoulder Rose continued while she took Steven's plate for herself. "So, you take this food stuff and you put it in your face hole like this, right?"

"Yeah, that's basically it." Steven laughed nervously.

"Y'know, if I had my own Pearl, I'd totally, like, want it to be just like you." Chest Rose said as she gazed at a very unnerved Pearl. "You tried this butter stuff? It's real groovy."

"It's okay, but thanks anyway Roooooose." Pearl answered very uncomfortably.

"Excuse me Pearl, but are you alright?" the shy Rose Quartz asked Pearl.

"I'm going to the bathroom." Pearl abruptly declared and, as she stated, moved away to the bathroom.

"Yo, you're lookin' kinda tense." Chest Rose said to Garnet with a hand on the fusion's shoulder. "How about I give you a nice relaxing message while we talk?"

"I'm also in need of the bathroom!" Garnet stated and got up to follow Pearl to the john.

"Okay Steven, I think I got this eating thing down." Shoulder Rose proclaimed while holding a carrot from Steven's plate in front of his face like he was a little boy. "Here, open your face hole." With that, Steven reluctantly took the carrot and ate it. "Good job!"

"I, uh, should probably see how Garnet and Pearl are doing." Steven nervously said. "Why don't you talk to Volleyball here while I chat with them?"

As Steven left for the bathroom after Garnet & Pearl, the three Roses stared at Volleyball.

"So, what was it like as Pink Diamond's Pearl?" Navy Rose asked Volleyball.

"They're not her." Steven whispered to himself as he watched the Pearl talk with the Quartzes, with a hand on the doorknob. "It's not weird at all."

--

Steven found Garnet and Pearl waiting for him in the bathroom as he closed the door behind him. "So, how's it going?"

"Don't you think this is super weird?" Pearl asked her son figure. "I mean, we've lived without Rose for sixteen years now, and then here come these Rose Quartzes that were bubbled because of her! And one of them even looked like her!"

"Of course it's super weird Pearl!" Garnet answered bluntly.

"Come on guys, we can't all be like this." Steven tried to calm the two down. "It's like Pearl said, they were bubbled because they looked like Mom. Now they're finally free, and all we're doing is hiding away in the bathroom whispering to each other about the same thing."

"I know it's wrong," Garnet stated. "but I'm overwhelmed."

"You know what? They don't just look like her, they are here!" Pearl exclaimed. "Because she made them!" The ex-servant took a deep breath and buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. "I thought I'd be more prepared for this."

Just then, they heard someone rushing down the stairs, followed by a familiar voice. "Hey Steven, where are you?! I still need help with the painting!"

"That's gotta be TZ." Steven recognized the voice and prepared to go back outside. "You two wait here, I'm gonna go back out to make sure they're having a good time. And that they don't see the painting."

--

"Oh Steven, come out come out wherever you are!" Teal Zircon called for Steven around the house while she hauled the painting around on her back, when she noticed Volleyball and the Roses. "Oh hey Pink Pearl, who are your new friends?"

"Oh, you're that Zircon from earlier." Volleyball said. "I was about to tell these three Rose Quartzes about how I got my eye cracked when you came around. How are you doing?"

"I still can't find a good place to hang this doohickey that won't make Steven freak out." Teal explained as she flipped the painting off her back to show Volleyball. "I understand why he doesn't want it within his line of sight, but it's a very nice lookin' "meep morp" as I've heard some Gems call art."

As Steven finally emerged from the bathroom, he saw that Teal Zircon was presenting Rose's painting to Volleyball while the Roses looked on.

"I think we should leave." Navy Rose suggested. "We wouldn't want to overstay our welcome."

"But we're having so much fun!" Chest Rose complained, and the trio looked at Steven with hurt on their faces.

"Do you not want us here?!" Shoulder Rose asked Steven sorrowfully.

"N-no, you're totally welcome here!" Steven stuttered bashfully, taking a brief moment to glare at TZ for bringing up the painting at such a bad time as he slightly began to turn pink. "I-in fact, I think there's still something we should t-t-t-t-took, I mean talk about, like Volleyball! We haven't brought up your eye yet!"

"Oh yes, it's a real shame what White Diamond did to this poor thing!" Pearl dramatically agreed as she impulsively burst from the restroom, realizing far too late what she just did and covered her mouth in shame. "Oh, darn it!"

"Yeah, I mean, Steven's healing powers won't work on her eye." TZ replied. "Hey Pearl, you know a place where she can get fixed?"

"Well, when a Pearl was damaged, they're usually taken to the Reef." Pearl explained. "It's located on one of Saturn's moons

"Yes, that's exactly what Pink would do!" Volleyball chirped happily.

"Ooh ooh, can we come too?!" Shoulder Rose asked Steven and Pearl. "I always wanted to know how Pearls are made!"

"Oh sure, the more the merrier!" Steven accepted.

"That's so awesome!" Shoulder Rose yelled, and she dropped down to the floor. "I'm dying, I'm dying, I am dead! I am dead Rose Quartz!"

After they all had a good laugh, Steven, Pearl, Volleyball and the Roses all left for the Reef via Warp Pad, leaving Teal Zircon all alone in the living room. At least until Garnet peeped out of the bathroom. "I predicted you would play a role in screwing the pooch TZ." She coolly stated.

"Was it something I said?" Teal said meekly.

--

Far from Earth, past Saturn & Jupiter and on the moon called Titan rested the Reef, a Gem facility that was essentially the birthplace of Pearls. And it was just the place that Steven was looking for.

"Here we are." Pearl announced as the Warp Pad took her, Steven, Volleyball and the Roses to a clamshell-like building surrounded by water.

"So this is the Reef." Steven declared as he looked around the place.

"This is where Pearls are made, right?" Navy Rose asked.

"Were, but you're right." Volleyball answered. "It also serves as a luxury boutique and center for refurbishment & repair."

"Repair, yes!" Steven exclaimed. "Just what I needed to hear." When Steven pressed his hand on a nearby pedestal, the facility turned on and a voice similar to Pearl's spoke to the group.

"Welcome, Pink Diamond." The voice greeted Steven.

"No, my name's Steven Universe." Steven corrected the voice.

"Welcome, Steven Universe." The voice corrected itself. "My name is Shell, your guide to the Reef."

"Wow, it sounds just like Pearl!" Shoulder Rose chirped eagerly.

"Well, this is a place for Pearls." Pearl stated with a chuckle. "Anyways, tell Shell why we're here Steven."

"Okay." Steven said, and then he turned to Shell. "My friend Volleyball here has a big crack on her face, and we'd like to get it fixed. Can you show us where you can help?"

"Understood." Shell obliged as a path to the center of the facility was lit up. "Please follow the illuminated path to the Care Center."

"You really didn't need to go all this way for something so trivial." Volleyball smiled.

"It's not so trivial Volleyball." Steven assured Pink's former Pearl. "Soon, we'll all be able to put this behind us."

"And don't you worry." Pearl added while taking her fellow ex-slave's hand. "I'll be with you the whole way."

Steven and his Gem friends began following the lit path to the Care Center while they examined all the boutique's accessories and holograms of Pearls.

"This is like, so cool." Chest Rose commented. "Pearls are so lucky to get all this cool stuff."

"Please feel free to take your time looking at the boutique's latest offerings as we make our way to the Care Center." Shell instructed. One offering in particular caught Volleyball's eye.

"Look at these darling fans!" Volleyball exclaimed, pointing to an assortment of fans.

"I'm taking one of these for the road." Chest Rose snickered while taking one of the fans for herself.

"What about you Pearl?" Steven asked Pearl. "Any memories rushing back into you?"

"Please, nothing like examining all these glitzy tchotchkes to get you remembering the simpler days." Pearl scoffed when she found a ribbon wand on display. "I mean, who even needs something as tacky as a ribbon wand, right Volleyball?!"

"What a sweet ribbon wand!" Volleyball gasped at the wand on display. "It looks just like mine!" To demonstrate, she summoned a ribbon wand of her own just like what was displayed and began twirling it around. "It was a gift from Pink. Isn't it exquisite?"

"Ooh!" Shoulder Rose whooped in excitement.

"Takin' this one too." Chest Rose declared as she snatched the ribbon wand from its stand.

"It's sweet she gave you all these keepsakes." Pearl laughed sardonically. "But I don't think there's any need to get attached." She tried to remove the ribbon wand from Volleyball's grasp, but the other Pearl refused to lose it.

"Guys, can we keep moving already?" Steven said impatiently.

"Yes, let's." Pearl obliged grumpily before she stomped away to the Care Center. "I've had enough of this old circus of objectification."

--

"Welcome to the Care Center." Shell introduced the almost featureless round room to its guests as they stepped into it. "We have everything you need here to update and repair your Pearl."

"If only I had something to help us remember this trip by!" Shoulder Rose whispered to her fellow Quartzes as Volleyball stepped onto a panel in the middle of the Care Center.

"Hey, I got these." Chest Rose replied, holding up the trinkets she took from the boutique. "Can't wait to show everyone at the Zoo."

"Scanning in progress." Shell informed as the one-eyed Pearl was scanned for any injuries to her form.

"So how do I look?" Volleyball asked Shell, but the answer she got was nothing like she expected.

"I am sorry." Shell apologized. "There is nothing I can do."

"But I thought this place was for fixing Pearls!" Navy Rose exclaimed. "There's got to be some kind of misunderstanding!"

"That's right! What's wrong with her?" Steven agreed.

"There is no visible damage to her pearl." Shell analyzed. "Perhaps the damage was severe enough to impact her even if her gem shows no signs of disrepair."

"So, it's psychological?" Steven gulped at the AI's answer.

"That's absurd!" Volleyball laughed creepily while turning to the others. "I'm totally fine!" The forced smile on her face and the worsening cracks on her eye, on the other hand, told a completely different story.

"How could White be so careless?!" Pearl shouted furiously at Volleyball.

"Oh no Pearl, you got it all wrong." Volleyball revealed. "This was all Pink's doing."

"What did you just say?!" Pearl yelled in Volleyball's face, as Steven watched in horror.

"Ah dudes, I don't think Steven's looking too hot." Chest Rose muttered while she noticed Steven sweating very nervously.

"It's a real funny story." Volleyball said. "Once, Pink got so fed up with Yellow and Blue Diamond refusing to give her a colony that she went straight to White Diamond. Of course, White told her that she wasn't fit to have one, and that set her off."

"Set her off?!" Pearl shouted, currently unaware of the stress Steven was under at the moment. "What kind of crazy talk is that?!"

"You know how Pink's powers were so destructive, how she threw tantrums left & right and that her screams could crack walls!" Volleyball continued explaining, accidentally earning her more of Pearl's ire. "But she didn't mean to hurt me! I was just standing a little too close during one tantrum and-"

"It doesn't matter!" Steven yelled while averting his ears from more of his late mother's dark secrets. "I don't want to hear anymore, I just want to fix this!"

"Destructive powers? Tantrums?!" Pearl exclaimed in disbelief of what Volleyball was saying. "The Pink I knew was a healer who kept her feeling secret!"

"The Pink I knew couldn't keep a secret to save her own gem." Volleyball admitted.

"Are you kidding?!" Pearl replied as Steven's angst reached a boiling point. "If anything, she was too good at keeping secrets! In fact it was because of one secret that we're even here today!"

"STOP IT!" Steven finally screamed as he fully turned pink and his shout knocked the Roses off their feet, catching the Pearls' attention. "I've had enough with hearing about all the horrible things she did! I get it already, she was the absolute worst, can we just cut it out already?! I don't want to think about it anymore!"

"Steven, please!" Pearl cried out, shocked at both Steven's outburst and how it changed his body.

"I just want to fix it!" Steven exploded, causing a room-wide shockwave created by his fury, forming a crater beneath where he stood. Pearl rushed to the traumatized Volleyball's defense as the pink-colored Pearl curled up into a ball on the floor. When Steven finally calmed down, he gazed at his reflection in the broken floor and immediately regretted what he just did.

"I am terribly sorry for the troubles these defective Pearls have caused you." Shell coldly apologized while the whole Care Center turned an ominous red. "Rejuvenation is required to contain these two."

Suddenly, a pair of oyster shells emerged from the ground and began trapping the Pearls inside of them right before Steven and the Roses' eyes.

"Zoinks man!" Chest Rose yelled, a complete 180 from her usual hippie-like persona. "What do we do?!"

"We have to use our heads!" the panicking Shoulder Rose suggested, and her two sisters turned to face her. "Uh, what are you looking at me for?"

"When the process is complete, they will obey you without fail." Shell continued while pulling up a viewscreen showing the Pearls inside the clam-like trap.

"What have I done?!" Steven yelled frightfully while banging on the shells. "Please, let them out!"

In the midst of the chaos, a loud clanging noise was heard from the other side of the shell, which came from Chest & Navy Rose trying to use Shoulder Rose as a battering ram to help free the Pearls. "I didn't mean use my head!"

"Do not worry Steven Universe, your Pearls are about to be better than new!" Shell assured the boy while presenting him the viewscreen. "Feel free to examine this process from the outside using this screen."

While Steven was forced to watch as Pearl & Volleyball were writhing from the pink energy they were zapped with coursing through their forms, the Roses kept on using Shoulder Rose's head to try breaking them out.

"What are you three still doing?!" Steven cried out at them.

"We're just trying to help, uh doy!" Shoulder Rose yelled while rubbing her head.

"Can't you all take a hint?" Shy Rose stated. "He doesn't like us because we look like his mom, and us coming here made it worse!"

"There's no way that's true, right Steven?" Shoulder Rose began sobbing in disbelief.

"That's not important!" Steven replied. "What's important is that we have to save them!"

"Wow dude, not even considering our feelings?" Chest Rose said. "That's just cold!"

"Never meet your heroes." Shoulder Rose began crying.

"No please, don't leave me like this!" Steven yelled for them while they tried to escape the Reef. "You can still help me, it's just that you guys look so much like my mom! I thought I could finally move on from her, but then here you three come and start making feel all twisted up. I've been pretending I'm fine this whole time, but to be honest, I'm not."

"We've been pretending to be fine too." Navy Rose confessed.

"But not pretending to have fun with you!" Shoulder Rose added.

"And not pretending to take all this cool stuff." Chest Rose also stated.

"Your mom created us, and then we were bubbled because we looked like her." Navy Rose said. "Because we were Rose Quartzes. I don't really expect you to understand."

"But I do understand." Steven responded softly. "If anyone knows where you're coming from, it's me."

--

While Steven and the Roses were still outside, Pearl and Volleyball were on the verge of being rejuvenated into completely new Pearls, and used these last moments of their current selves to confide in one another.

"I'm sorry for not believing you!" Pearl apologized quickly to her fellow Pearl. "I just can't stop making all these excuses for her!"

"Is that what you've been doing?!" Volleyball asked while twitching in agony. "Like I said, she didn't mean to do this to me!"

"But you were hurt!" Pearl yelled. "Badly hurt!"

"You were badly hurt too!" Volleyball exclaimed. "But how did you stop all the hurt?!"

Pearl simply responded by hugging Volleyball tightly and proclaiming, "I didn't." When Volleyball hugged her back, the two began glowing in harmony.

--

"Don't worry Pearls, we got you!" Steven exclaimed as he and the Rose trio raced to the viewscreen just as it disappeared. "Oh no, are we too late?!"

Thankfully for Steven, his question was answered in the form of the clamshell exploding and from its remains came a fusion of Pearl & Volleyball, standing calm and confident. The fusion had a single gold eye while the other got its cracked eye from Volleyball, and was dressed in very regal attire.

"You fused!" Steven exclaimed joyously. The Roses were just as amazed, particularly Shoulder Rose who just kept squeeing in amazement.

"WARNING: UNKNOWN ENTITY SIGHTED!" Shell roared in alarm while activating the Reef's defense systems. "FACILITY DEFENSE PROTOCAL INITIATED!"

"We can cheer later dudes, we gotta bounce!" Chest Rose cried out as claws emerged from the walls. The Pearl fusion, however, detained all of the claws with elegant ease using a weapon that was Pearl's spear combined with Volleyball's wand.

"That's so awesome!" Shoulder Rose cheered. "Go Mega Pearl! Yeah, that's what I'm gonna call her, I call dibs!"

"Hang on everyone!" Mega Pearl exclaimed as she rounded up her four friends and sliced the Care Center's door open immediately after it was shut. Laser began firing from the walls, which Mega Pearl nimbly maneuvered through. But as one last defense, smaller clamshells tried to block the exit while tendrils emerged to keep Mega Pearl restrained.

"We were almost there!" Steven groaned in frustration, before Mega Pearl picked him and the trio up in her hand.

"You four take it from here." Mega Pearl said before she turned her ribbon spear into a lance that pierced straight through both the clams and the exit. She then tossed Steven, Shoulder Rose, Chest Rose & Navy Rose forward, and Steven used his shield to slide on as he reached for the pedestal to shut down the facility once again.

With the defense systems finally off, the door opened and Mega Pearl was lying gracefully on the ground, now free from the tendrils, and gazing tenderly at Steven.

Steven smiled back just as Shoulder Rose rushed up from behind him. "That, was, SO AWESOME!" she squealed and squished her cheeks in excitement.

"Best day ever." Chest Rose declared with her face to the ground and a thumbs up in the air.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Navy Rose sighed, exhausted but relieved that everyone was okay.

Unbeknowst to all the Gems as they left the deactivated Reef, a peculiar device left out some dying beeps in the Care Center, and then finally shut down.

--

Night fell by the time Steven and the Gems returned to Earth, and they all gazed out at the ocean together.

"Wow, everything looks so pretty at night." Shoulder Rose muttered in awe.

However, Steven was silent for most of the night, until he turned to Mega Pearl and the Roses. "I'm sorry that this whole trip was for nothing." He apologized to the fusion, and then turned to the trio of Quartzes. "And I'm sorry I made you guys feel bad."

"Nothing personal Steven." Chest Rose accepted the apology. "And like you said, no one could understand us more than you."

"Yeah. Guess that kinda makes us siblings in a way." Steven admitted.

"What does that mean?" Navy Rose said shyly.

"Well, my mom created you, just like how she created me." Steven guessed. "I think that would make you my sisters in a way."

"That sounds awesome!" Shoulder Rose cheered, and she gave Steven a big hug. "Siblings forever!"

"I'm glad to be related to you." Chest Rose agreed with the sentiment.

"I can't wait to tell all the other Rose Quartzes about this." Navy Rose said. "It was very nice getting to see Earth."

"This whole endeavor wasn't for nothing." Mega Pearl finally said softly. "Your mother's Pearls just never knew the whole story. One knew your mother as she was trying to change, but didn't know why. The other never expected her to change at all. But now, I can understand it all, and they can have each other."

With that, Mega Pearl unfused back into Pearl & Volleyball, holding hands and gazing out at the night sky. As Volleyball leaned on Pearl, Amethyst and the Little Homeschool Quartzes suddenly returned.

"Yeah, Famethyst for life!" Amethyst cried, accidentally ruining the mood as the others stared at her from behind. "Hey, what did I miss?"

"Oh, Steven!" Teal Zircon yelled as she raced towards Steven. "First things first, sorry for making your guests feel bad. And second, I think I finally found a place to put Rose! And no, I won't put her in the trash this time."

"That's great TZ." Steven smiled at the Zircon. "What did you have in mind?"

--

Later that night, Steven was lying peacefully in bed with Lion by his side. And within Lion's mane, Rose Quartz's painting leaned against the tree within its pocket dimension, no longer hanging over everyone.

--

"So she just up and left?!" a voice barked at Holly Blue Agate from a computer screen in a hidden room at the Human Zoo. "Why didn't you stop her?!"

"I tried your clarity, but she refused to listen!" Holly Blue pleaded on her knees. "Please forgive me, I can do better on whatever assignment you give me next!"

"Okay, I'll let this slide." The voice sighed, bringing joy to Holly Blue's face. "Return to Homeworld at once, I have another assignment for you. But in the meantime, what about that tracking beacon we planted on the Pearl?"

"It seems to have short-circuited, last I checked." Holly Blue declared. "Last known location was the Reef on Titan."

--

"And that's why you never send a Pearl to do, well, anyone else's job!" a slim, black figure wearing a white cape complained on the other end of the call via a green visor, pinching the gemstone replacing her nose in irritation as she arrived via Warp Pad at the Reef. "I'm already at the designated location. I'll keep you all updated with further orders."

Pushing the pedestal, the facility suddenly reactivated, to the figure's delight.

--

And cue For The Damaged Coda! Gotta say, this was probably my longest chapter yet. Now that we have yet another load of dirty laundry cleaned up, it's time to ask some bigger questions. Who is Holly Blue taking orders from when she said earlier she didn't take orders from anyone? What does this mystery character want with the Reef, and how will Steven react to a possible revolution taking place right under his nose? Join us next week for more answers, and happy holidays!

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 2: Rudyard

Following a shocking bit of news, Rudyard makes a rendezvous with his old leader.

❃❃❃

Sardion had ended the call with a request; that Rudyard come immediately to the Second Precinct, where he was with the detective leading the investigation.

As Rudyard ran, he felt intense guilt seep into his thoughts. Two of his old teammates were dead and he wasn’t there to save them. He was a Huntsman— to him, it should have been his duty to save them. How could this happen? He kept mentally repeating over and over on the way.

Almost too soon enough, he was leaning outside of the detective’s office, bent over in exhaustion with one hand propping him against the door. Through the window, Sardion had already been speaking to the detective when they saw Rudyard doubled over outside. The detective, a dark-skinned woman who he failed to recognize, hurried outside to help him up.

“Sir Millard, are you alright? Let’s get you up.” she motioned for Sardion to help her with Rudyard.

“Wha— what happened? How—? They can’t be gone. Please tell me this is just a bad joke, Sardion.” Rudyard held on to Sardion’s arm, his voice wavering with a mixture of exertion and emotion as he tried to catch his breath.

Sardion couldn’t bear to look Rudyard in the eye. He was silently struggling to maintain his own composure. Yaara and Berilo had not only been his friends, but his family. The moment they had become a team, all those years ago, had made them feel inseparable. Now, that  very same moment felt like a cruel trick decades in the making.

“Damn it, you two, just tell me—! I need to know what happened!” Rudyard snapped, having managed to finally catch his breath.

The detective glanced over at the Huntsman, who had sunken down onto a small couch by the wall. “I know you must be devastated by this news, Sir Millard, but unfortunately, a lot of this case isn’t clear yet.” She sat down on her office chair and grabbed a file from her desk.

Rudyard spared a glance up at her desk— near its front was a nameplate, on which Det. Agave Yuen, Royal Mistral Police was embossed in brass. He quietly took note of this, as it meant he didn’t have to keep mentally referring to her as “the detective” any longer.

Detective Yuen cleared her throat, before beginning to speak to the two Huntsmen. “Yaara Dailan and Berilo Gaspar were found dead this morning in their respective homes. Both of the deaths appear to have occurred within 24 hours, according to medical scans of their core body temperatures. In Miss Dailan’s body, there was a single gaping wound, which we suspect to be from a sword. On the other hand, Mister Gaspar received several smaller wounds of a similar nature, two of which severed arteries. In Miss Dailan’s case, there were signs of a struggle.” She paused, pursing her lips momentarily before continuing.. “We’ve got the when and where, but the who, why, and how of this case is still unclear. As of now, the forensics team hasn’t yet confirmed if they were in fact murdered or not, and there’s also—”

“Of COURSE they were murdered!” Rudyard shouted suddenly, rising to his feet. “How can you possibly be unsure of that?! Those two could kill droves of Grimm by themselves — to say nothing of when we were a team — and they’re not the kind of people someone could get the drop on! Whoever did this was clearly prepared for—!”

“Rudd, please. Calm down. Let Detective Yuen do her work.” said Sardion.

Rudyard wheeled around to face Sardion. “How can you stay calm, knowing two of our teammates are dead and we weren’t there for them?!” he retaliated.

Sardion flinched slightly at the indirect accusation, before letting out a deep, pained sigh. “Believe me, Rudd, I’m hurting as much as you are. The news wasn’t at all easy for me either, but you of all people should know that situations like this shouldn’t be met with an attitude like that.” Sardion did his best to maintain a civil attitude as he spoke, holding his palms out in a gesture of placation.

The resulting silence was deafening. Both Rudyard and Sardion were having trouble connecting the dots that led them to this moment — it all seemed too sudden, too soon. One second, they had been fresh graduates of Haven taking on their first real mission together, and the next they were mourning the deaths of half their team.

Agave, however, was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. If she continued, she felt like she’d upset Rudyard even more. But if she remained silent, Sardion would feel like their time was being wasted.

When she was approached by the Mistral Police about the deaths of Yaara and Berilo, the detective knew that she wasn’t dealing with a regular case. She was handling that of people from SYBR, the top team of the Haven graduating class of 58 AV. They had been the champions of the 28th Vytal Festival.

At any rate, she had to be prepared for anything in this case.

The silence was broken by Sardion speaking up. “Please continue, Detective Yuen.”

“Are you sure? If it’s too distressing for Sir Millard, he can catch up with the investigation on a later date.” Yuen replied, subtly gesturing with a hand towards Rudyard.

Sardion shook his head. “The longer we sit here grieving, the longer whoever did this is still roaming the streets. We don’t know who they might come for next, or if we’re already being targeted.” He glanced over at Rudyard. “You calmed down?”

“Mmm.” Rudyard responded with an ambiguous murmur, taking a deep breath.

Yuen nodded as she returned to the topic of the investigation. “Well, as I was saying right now, the majority of the case is still left unanswered. That’s why we asked you to come here. You two were the ones who knew the victims best. You could help them—” 

“Too late for that. We weren’t there to help them then, and I don’t see what good it’ll do now.” Rudyard quietly muttered.

Yuen coughed awkwardly at Rudyard’s interruption. “…Be that as it may, I plan on getting to the bottom of this, so if not for them, at least help me out.” She turned to her computer momentarily, typing in a command for a new document before turning back to Sardion and Rudyard “I’m going to ask you some questions that might guide us toward the right path to take. Shall we start?”

“Go ahead, detective.” Sardion motioned to Yuen, as she began typing into the document with one hand.

“Where were both of you yesterday evening, and did you have any contact with Yaara Dailan or Berilo Gaspar during that period of time?”

Rudyard looked up, a slightly appalled expression on his face “...You can’t be implying we had something to do with—” He stopped as Sardion rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Easy, Rudd. It’s just the regular police line of questioning, we’re not being interrogated.” He turned back towards Yuen before responding. “I was at home with Asagi, myself. We called it an early night.”

Yuen typed into the computer for a moment. “Asagi… as in Asagi Sarikaya, your daughter?”

“That’s right.” Sardion answered.

Yuen typed a bit more. “And the home… you live in the Saku District, House 217, is that correct?”

“Correct.”

“Right, then.” Yuen clicked her mouse twice. “And you, Sir Millard?”

Rudyard let out a sigh before looking up to face Yuen. “I was heading home from… from the Gardens of Remembrance, over in the Yoake District.”

Sardion’s eyes widened slightly, and he inhaled sharply. Now it was no wonder Rudyard had been taking this so hard— this tragedy was following right on the heels of the anniversary of another one. 

Noticing Sardion’s response, Yuen raised an eyebrow as she turned to her computer screen and typed again, pulling up Rudyard’s personal record.

A pause.

“…Ah. Yes, I see. I’m very sorry about that.” Yuen said, wincing to herself as she looked over Rudyard’s file.

The red-clad Huntsman shrugged. “I considered hitting up the Blackbird, that bar a few blocks down from my house, but I figured that could wait until this evening.” Rudyard continued. “Then I got the call, and… well, here we are now.”

Agave nodded, and kept on typing on her computer. Half a minute later, she faced Rudyard and Sardion again and proceeded to continue the line of questioning. “Do you know anyone who might have done this to them? Anyone who might have a motive?”

“Everyone they’ve met, they treated well. They were professionals, but always friendly to others. I don’t know anyone who could be so angry at those two to the point of murder.” Sardion answered.

“No old enemies, looking to settle scores? No connections that might have considered them ‘loose ends’?”

Sardion shook his head, but Rudyard paused for a moment. He knew that Yaara and Berilo had been embroiled in some secretive missions, and there was always the off chance that the murders could have been a cleanup job.

After a moment spent contemplating, he responded, “…Not that I was ever aware of, no.”

❃❃❃

After an hour of questioning the two Huntsmen, Detective Yuen was finally satisfied with the report she had on file. “Thank you, gentlemen. That’s all I need to know for now.” she said, snapping the lid of her computer shut. The three stood up from where they were sitting. As Rudyard and Sardion were about to head out the door, Yuen stopped them. “I know this may be asking a lot, especially considering that it’s already been one bad day, but do you mind helping us catch whoever did this in other ways?”

“Absolutely.” Rudyard said without hesitation.

“Same h— wait, what do you mean by ‘other ways’?” Sardion asked.

Yuen exhaled heavily through her nostrils before responding. “Despite the prep for the Festival, we’re not short of the police force overall, and I also have my subordinates doing some groundwork. However, I think a little more help wouldn’t hurt. For one thing, you two knew the victims better than anyone, and your input and added skills as Huntsmen should be a boon.” she explained.

Sardion looked at Rudyard. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Rudyard?” he inquired.

Rudyard nodded. “Yes. Anything I can do to help, just say the word.”

“And what about you, Sir Sarikaya?” Agave inquired. “It’s on your record that you have a daughter at home, so if you’re concerned for your own safety…”

Sardion took a moment to consider his response. He had chosen to lie low of his Huntsman duties since his daughter Asagi had been born, in favor of raising her.  Ever since then, all he could think about was spending time with her— her mother had passed on when Asagi was very young, and he had made plenty of money from missions before her birth to retire from missions. Being the champion of the 28th Vytal Festival hadn’t hurt his socioeconomic prospects, either, and his domestic life had been a comfortable one.

But now, things were different. Asagi was already sixteen and preparing to apply as a Huntress herself— she wouldn’t be at home for much longer. And despite the decline of his skills with age, he’d kept up his training well enough to handle himself in a fight should one come along.

It was time to get back to his duties as a leader once again, and avenge his comrades.

“Of course. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, knowing that their killers are still on the loose.” he answered firmly.

[meterokinesis]

Stars as Sharp as Knives

Read it on AO3

Prompt: stabbed

TW: Violence, PTSD, Disassociation

Summary: Tim remembered getting stabbed in vivid detail. The images were horrifying on their own, but together they formed a sick film that played on loop in Tim’s mind. Even after waking up the next morning, and the morning after that, he kept wondering: why am I alive?

Tim remembered getting stabbed in vivid detail.

In a job like this, where you either saved the day or ruined it all, he was used to cuts and scrapes and wounds. He anticipated them even, which the first aid kid he kept in his utility belt could attest to. But getting stabbed that night in the desert was something else.

The sound of steel through flesh. A cruel whisper. Blood, warm and sticky. Sand in his nose and eyes. Cool near-winter wind that ruffled through his hair. Dirt under fingernails. The weight of a body dragged behind him. Brick walls with metal stairs. A soft bed, with downy pillows stained rust.

The images were horrifying on their own, but together they formed a sick film that played on loop in Tim’s mind. Even after waking up the next morning, and the morning after that, he kept wondering: why am I alive?

This was a question he’d been asking himself for longer than he cared to admit. He was alive because no one had managed to kill him yet, and no more. If the universe had its way, he would be dead eight times over. Tim was just lucky, he supposed. But not lucky enough to escape the nightmares.

He remembered while attempting to sleep in the lavish jail cell Ra’s al Ghul concocted for him. He remembered while training with high level assassins, every time they went for a jab at his stomach. He remembered when Tam hugged him, and his reflex was to make sure she didn’t have a knife. He remembered on his first night back in Gotham, when he had to update his medical records to say “Patient has no spleen after a traumatic injury to the abdomen.”

The nightmares were the worst. They played out the scene in gory detail, each time with a new sort of reverence for Tim’s suffering. It wasn’t always the Widower who stabbed him; sometimes it was his father, or Jason, or Damian, or the mugger that killed Bruce’s parents. On bad nights, it was Bruce. On worse nights, it was Stephanie.

The nightmares persisted long after he defeated Ra’s al Ghul at Wayne Enterprises, long after Bruce finally returned and Tim was welcomed home with open arms. No, they lasted for months--every night a sick remembrance.

                                     ____________________

The first time he sparred with Dick after ending Ra’s plot, he used the new skills he picked up at the Cradle. At first they traded blows lazily, wearing down the floor by walking the same steps of a familiar dance. Then Tim dared to spin out--try one little move--and the game was afoot.

Tim didn’t pretend that he was better than Dick--he knew he wasn’t. But he had more range and was the better strategist, so at least their spars were interesting. They danced around the mat, neither submitting. Like all of their practices, it went until someone gave in or passed out. The Waynes never called out.

Dick went for Tim’s shoulder with his escrima sticks, which Tim blocked with his bo staff. By the time he registered the other stick moving toward his stomach, it was too late.

Forgoing all sense of etiquette, Tim roared and swung out with his staff, trying not to relish in the feeling of it connecting with Dick’s head.

“Jesus, Tim, what was that?” Dick’s voice floated from somewhere above. “I know we didn’t specify ‘no headshots’ but it seems like a giv- holyshitareyouokay?” It was then that Tim realized he was sitting on the ground, his head between his knees and his hands protecting his neck. In a way, he looked like the tornado drills they made him do at school, even though Gotham never had tornadoes. His body didn’t feel entirely real, like instead of inhabiting it like always, he was merely borrowing it for a second.

Dick’s voice, no doubt saying something reassuring, murmured in his ear. The words all blended together in a soup of pleasant sounds, one that Tim didn’t even attempt to decipher. Somewhere in the haze, he heard the telltale click of the comms, followed a few minutes later by heavy footfalls.

Bruce’s gruff voice took over for Dick’s soothing one, asking him questions that he didn’t know how to answer. Even if he could, he wasn’t entirely sure his mouth was still a mouth, let alone one that could form words. Instead, his brain gave him a front-row seat for the premiere of his least favorite movie in existence, where Dick stabbed Tim in the abdomen, his face contorted into something evil and totally unlike Dick. The Not-Dick didn’t stop after the first time, of course. Instead the scene rewinded over and over again, like a broken film from a museum about the tragedies of war.

Tim didn’t remember anything past that.

                                      ____________________

Tim woke up in his bed at the Manor, his heartbeat thunderous but slow. He opened bleary eyes to see Bruce sitting in the armchair near his window, reading a copy of the Wendy the Werewolf Stalker comic tie-ins Bart had given him last year for Hanukkah.

“Good morning. Or, should I say, evening. You almost slept for a full day,” Bruce said warmly, closing the book.

Tim didn’t return his tone. “Why are you here?” He demanded, clutching his blankets where they fell on his lap.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” Bruce avoided the question with trained ease, something Tim saw much too often in himself.

“I- Yeah. A little.” He remembered Dick stabbing him, but that couldn’t be Dick, right? They were in the desert, and it would take at least a day to get from the Syrian Desert to Gotham. His hand wandered over to his stomach. No open wounds or bandages, but there was a long scar.

“You disassociated. Do you know what that means?” Bruce asked, and Tim nodded mechanically. “We think that something during sparring practice triggered a trauma response.”

Tim heard the words, but he wasn’t sure his brain was following all the way.

“I’m fine, B. I just freaked out a little. No big deal.”

Bruce leveled his dad-stare at Tim. “Tim, with all due respect, that was not ‘freaking out a little.’ You were curled up in a ball on the mat, refusing to speak to us. When we managed to coax you into a sitting position, you attacked me. We had to put you in a safe hold until you calmed down.”

Tim opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I think we need to talk about this. I understand if you don’t feel safe yet, you’ve been through a lot over the past year. I love you and I want to be here for you, but if a professional would help, we can do that too. Dick knows this guy in Metropolis-”

“No!” The word was out of Tim’s mouth before he could stop it, followed by a torrent of others. “I don’t need a shrink. I’m fine. Can I leave now? Or are you going to keep me prisoner like he did?”

“Of course not,” Bruce said, his voice heartbreakingly gentle. “This is your home, Tim. You can come and go as you please. However, I think we need to talk about-”

“Cool. Later.” Tim rolled out of bed and tugged on shoes and a jacket as Bruce tried to reason with him. They both knew that he could try to keep Tim here, either with logic or the threat of getting grounded, but neither would work. At his best, Tim was tenacious. At his worst, he was stubborn.

Tim traipsed down the grand staircase as Bruce followed behind him. Damian glowered at him from the sitting room, but at least he didn’t say anything. Dick was nowhere to be found. Tim pushed his way out of the manor, a small smile of satisfaction crossing his face when the door slammed and cut off Bruce’s pleas. It reminded him of every bad teen movie he’d ever watched, except the exhausted dad and pushy mom were replaced by Batman. Wasn’t that every kid’s dream?

                                       ____________________

He wandered through Bristol township, avoiding the spots he knew the paparazzi liked to frequent. Wouldn’t that be a million-dollar picture: Bruce Wayne’s high-school-dropout-turned-CEO son walking through the sea of McMansions in converse, a kid’s tracker bracelet, pyjama pants, and Cass’s purple NorthFace.

He was on some cul-de-sac where every house looked the same when he heard the telltale swish of someone following him. He didn’t turn around, just kept up his leisurely pace. Either they’d announce themselves, or they wouldn’t.

He got his answer when a hand snaked over his chest and a body pressed against his back, stopping him in his tracks.

“Hello, Detective,” Scarab whispered in his ear, and Tim’s veins turned to ice. Her hand cupped his face, and she slid around to his front. Tim didn’t believe in God, but he had no doubt that she was Satan incarnate.

“I have a gift for you,” she purred, her hands tracing his sides and back. He didn’t dare respond. “It’s from your friend.”

Tim swore his heart stopped. Ra’s al Ghul didn’t send gifts, he sent warnings. And threats. And death. Which is why he wasn’t entirely surprised when Scarab drove a knife into his chest with a sort of tender ruthlessness. She guided him to the ground, left a ghost of a kiss on his temple, and stepped out of view.

Tim lay gasping on the pavement, trying not to bleed out. His fingertips brushed the bracelet, weakly holding down to send out a tracking signal. If he was lucky, they’d see it. If not, then he’d die. It was that simple.

The stars here were dimmer than the ones in the desert. It was all the light pollution, he knew. Same stars, but an altogether different sky. There was a metaphor there somewhere, but he had lost too much blood to focus enough to find one.

His eyelids felt heavy, and it took everything in him to keep them open. Bruce would be here soon. He had to be. He was Batman, that’s what he did.

As Tim staggered through each breath, he couldn’t help but remark the irony of it all. He’d spent all this time worried about one old wound that he hadn’t seen the next one coming.

[aswallowssong]

Whumptober (Sickfic) Day 8 - Hospital

This got way out of hand y’all, but here we are!

SCRC AU

Read on AO3

-----

Both women were clad in sweatpants and hoodies, JJ’s hair in a loose ponytail while Kit’s braids were falling out.

JJ was the only one she’d called.

The blonde dropped into the chair next to her, taking her hand and squeezing gently. The worry could have been coming from anywhere, they were in a hospital, but it surged when JJ took a breath.

“What happened?”

What happened? Kit wasn’t entirely sure. Reid had been off work a few days. Actually, she’d kicked him out of the bullpen that Monday when he was coughing so aggressively she swore he was going to crack a rib if he didn’t go home and lay down. It had sounded wet and congested and gross, but she assumed he’d picked up whatever cold was making its way around. He’d be fine if he just got some sleep like a normal person, and he’d be back by Wednesday. Gideon had even driven him home. 

Then Hotch had told them Reid was out sick again on Thursday, which was concerning, but not enough for her to be overly worried. Some people caught things worse than other people. He was probably taking an extra day to be completely back to normal before facing them all again. He already got so much flack for being the youngest; the baby. She’d thought he was just avoiding being coddled when he didn’t need it.

At least that’s what she’d thought until he was calling her at one-thirty in the morning, his breaths coming in gasps and wheezes as he asked for her help through what sounded like strangled sobs. She’d scrambled from her bed and basically grabbed the keys out of Monty’s hands as she walked through the door, shoving her glasses on her face and babbling something half-intelligible about an emergency.

It had taken her exactly three minutes to get to Spencer’s apartment in the dead of night, which was weird, because she hadn’t known that he lived anywhere near her. It took three more minutes for her to decide he needed more medical intervention than she could give him in his apartment. He was shaking and wheezing and coughing disgusting colored phlegm into the sleeve of his hoodie, skin on fire with eyes panicked and bright.

It took six minutes to get him down to the car, and another twelve to drive to the hospital closest to them. She’d walked him into the ER she’d worked in for a year and a half before the academy, no idea who was the Head, and no idea what to do except flash her badge and relay as much information as she possibly could to the nurse behind the desk.

They’d taken him away as soon as they saw that Kit was supporting most of his weight, his gasping and coughing causing the nurses to move with an urgency Kit almost missed. She just wished it wasn’t due to the fact that Reid, Spencer, was struggling to breath.

She’d found a corner to cry her eyes out in as soon as they’d taken him away from her.

“They, um. He’s in a room. They took him away from me and wouldn’t let me go with,” she said slowly, not really answering JJ’s question. “They wouldn’t let me go with.”

“But what happened? To Spence?”

Kit told her as well as she could, mind moving at seven hundred miles an hour. Things were fuzzy as she remembered them. Spencer’s breathing. Monty calling after her. His hands gripping hers so tight it was painful as she drove through the deserted streets of the district towards the hospital she knew so well.

JJ didn’t let go of as she spoke, running her thumb along the back of Kit’s hand. “You did everything you could,” she said quietly. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“I…” She shook her head, starting to ramble as she processed. “I sent him home Monday, remember? He was supposed to be back Wednesday and then he wasn’t. He wasn’t back today, yesterday? It’s Friday now I think, but it’s still today. It’s still Thursday and he didn’t come to work and I thought, maybe he was just waiting. But then he called me and he was struggling to breathe and I did what I could.” 

She looked up at JJ’s eyes, her own pooling with tears like they had before. “I did everything I could, but he was in respiratory distress. It’s the middle of the night. I don’t have supplies like that in my backpack. I couldn’t help him.”

“You did,” she assured, squeezing Kit’s hand again. “You got to his apartment and you got him here.”

“I should have checked on him today. During the day. On my way home.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I should have done something else. You’re my responsibility. All of you.”

JJ shook her head, moving so that both her hands were holding Kit’s. “Don’t do that. No one else checked on him either. This is on all of us.”

“No, it’s on me.”

“Kit-”

“Spencer Reid?” 

A voice called out from the doorway of the waiting room. An older nurse was standing there, giving the two girls a kind, sympathetic smile. They were the only two there, so the nurse must have known they were the ones there for Reid, but Kit appreciated the professionalism. Something concrete in a time where nothing felt like it was making a lot of sense.

“Yes,” Kit said quickly, swiping her tears away under her glasses and taking a deep breath as she stood. JJ stood as well. “Is he okay?”

“Are either of you immediate family?”

Both girls stood still for a moment before they both shook their heads. “I’m JJ, and this is Kit. We’re-,” JJ said before Kit said quickly. “We work in the same department at the FBI headquarters. I’m the one that brought him.”

The nurse nodded before starting into her spiel. The one Kit had given plenty of times before. “Mr. Reid has moderate bacterial pneumonia. He’s being given oxygen and intravenous fluids and medication to work on the dehydration and the fever. Once his sputum test comes back, we will be able to start him on a regiment of antibiotics.”

“He’s allergic to carbenicillin,” Kit said quickly, a hand drumming against the fabric of her sweats. The nurse smiled at her kindly. “We caught that on his file, yes. It was recently updated.”

Kit nodded quickly. “I did that a few months ago.”

“It was thorough,” the woman said, never losing her calm, kind front. “Now, I’m sure you’re glad to know that your friend is okay, but I am sorry to tell you that visiting hours don’t start again until ten. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you then, if he’s awake.”

“Wait,” Kit said quickly, catching on to her meaning, “We can’t see him now?”

“Neither of you are family, so no, I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until the morning.”

“He doesn’t have any family,” JJ said with the same speed and determination Kit had spoken. “He has us. And Kit just brought him here, and he was scared.”

The nurse shook her head, Reid’s file tightening in her hand. “I’m sorry that you’re upset. The only people who are allowed immediate visiting hour exceptions are immediate family, like a spouse or a parent, or a listed emergency contact, in the case of a patient with no familial ties.”

“Well, who’s his emergency contact? We’re not leaving him here alone.” JJ’s eyes were full of a fire Kit would say lined up pretty well with what Gideon always said about her. 

If her eyes really looked like that, maybe he was right to say she was trouble. 

The nurse sighed quietly, opening the file and scanning. She tilted her head as she read the name on the file. “Emergency contact for Spencer Reid is… Dakota. Dakota Col- Colg…”

“Colghain?” Kit asked, eyes wide and eyebrows pulled together. The nurse nodded. “Sure, that could be it. Do you know her?”

“I am her,” Kit said, stunned. She pulled her badge out of the pocket of her sweatpants, flipping it open so the woman could see her name printed clearly along with her picture. 

“Well why didn’t you start with that?” The nurse said, waves of true annoyance coming off of her. “You can come with me, but your friend has to leave until visiting hours start again.”

Kit promised JJ she would call as soon as she could before following the nurse down the cold hallway. Goosebumps erupted along Kit’s arms as they passed door after door, the walk from the ER to General Admissions being so eerily familiar, but so foreign at the same time. She’d lost a young man in room 302, and an elderly woman in room 246. She’d walked down the hallway a million times, she just didn’t think she’d be doing it again. Not as a visitor. 

The nurse opened the door to Reid’s room, and Kit had to swallow back the whine threatening to escape. He was paper white, hooked up to an IV with a nasal cannula situated in his nose, pumping oxygen into his fluid-filled lungs. The guilt was hitting her in waves, and she didn’t move for a moment.

This is your fault. If you’d checked on him today, or if you’d given a shit on Monday past the fact that the coughing was annoying everyone, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

“It’s alright,” the nurse said, her annoyance ebbing as she watched Kit stand there with wide eyes. “It can be hard for some people to see all these IVs and machines.”

“I’m a Charge Nurse,” Kit said quietly, using the terminology she knew from the hospital, not the academy clinic. “I’ve just never seen him look like this.”

Kit sat in the chair by Reid’s bed for almost an hour before he shifted, his breath catching and leaving his coughing and sputtering as phlegm tried to work its way out of his lungs. She moved to the edge of the bed quickly, helping him sit up and passing him a bin that he could spit the offending mucus into. She let herself be thankful for one moment that it was her and not JJ there with him, not knowing JJ’s comfort level with all things medically gross. 

“You’re okay,” she said quietly, one of her small hands pressed steadily between his shoulder blades. “Get it out. That’s your job right now.”

“Hurts,” he choked out as he continued to cough, and Kit sighed, rubbing gently across his upper back. “Yeah, I know. Not a choice, though. I’m not going anywhere, just try to breathe when you can.”

It took minutes for him to get control of his lungs back, though he wheezed with every shallow intake of air. He looked at her with glassy, fever bright eyes, his eyes moving slowly around the room before he said quietly, “What did they say?”

“Bacterial pneumonia. They’re putting you on antibiotics and keeping you here at least twenty-four hours. So, really, Saturday morning.”

“I’m allergic-”

“To carbenicillin, I know. I told them.”

Reid seemed to relax slightly at that, knowing that whatever they gave him to combat the infection in his lungs wasn’t going to be his end. Kit helped ease him against the thin mattress again in a position that wouldn’t allow him to drown in his own illness.

It was quiet, save for the occasional cough from Spencer. Her hand was gripped around his, the overwhelming guilt and confusion building as time went on.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, and he opened his eyes to look at her with puzzlement. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I should have given a shit when I sent you home on Monday, and I should have checked in on you today. We probably could have avoided this whole, ‘scary fever can’t breath’ thing.” She was looking down at her hand that was playing with the seam on her pants, the hand holding Reid’s already as tight as she dared.

Reid shook his head lazily. “I’m sorry I waited so long to call you. I knew there was something wrong-” He cut off with a few harsh coughs before he continued. “Earlier. I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered me,” she insisted, feeling like she was really looking at him for the first time. He was young, like she was, and he didn’t have any family. It dawned on her that she was his emergency contact. Not Gideon. Not even Hotch. She didn’t know if up until that point she would have called them friends. 

But she was the one sitting in his hospital room at nearly four in the morning. And in his hospital room at four in the morning she wasn’t so sure he was a minion or a spy. He just looked like a scared young adult. Just like she was.

“Why is it me?”

“Hm?”

“Why am I your emergency contact? Why isn’t it Gideon?”

Reid didn’t speak for a moment, the air flooding with his sadness. “I asked him. He said no,” he said, voice quiet and trembling with tears that wouldn’t fall. “I should have asked you, Dakota. I shouldn’t have just done it. I’m sorry.”

There was another bout of silence before she nearly whispered, “You can leave it.”

He turned his head to look at her, something like distrust in his eyes. He wasn’t sure. He thought she was joking, or poking fun. She could see it.

“I- what?”

“You can leave it. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?”

“No, Spencer, I don’t. Thank you for calling me.”

He stared at her for a second before nodding just slightly, gratitude filling the space between them.

“Thank you for coming.”