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sssilverstoned · 9 months

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sympathy for the devil ꩜ cl16

type: fluff? besties to lovers? let's say that. a friend is done dirty but is she really a friend? debatable. flashbacks, angst-ish (a guilty conscience is always a great outfit addition, no?)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: language, suggestive but no smut (finger sucking. i was in a mood,) charles is a reformed cheater, so let's say some moral ambiguity all around

lily said: hello hello! welcome to the inner workings of my hyper fixation on summer romances and a couple of bestieeeees who should just be a couple. now that this guy is out the way, i'd love to formally open requests! a drabble, fic, oneshot, hit my line ! we can get into the details of who i do and don't write for later <3

You are not a terrible person. You're not even a bad person, truly. It's something you repeat to yourself like a mantra as you look away from Charles's side profile across the long table.

He's looking like summertime, soft like an afternoon nap, but sharp like a stinging on your skin from too many 5 more minutes called from the patio. His neck is elongated slightly, trying to hear Joris's story over Mirabel's loud laughter. When he leans like that, you can see a peak of the remnants of the hickey you sucked into his pale skin the evening before. Your stomach hurts.

Charles's own nose is red, he's scrunching it on occasion like no one will notice his discomfort, and his necessity for aloe vera. You've packed it in your bag because you know he wouldn't have. He knows to ask you for it later.

You excuse yourself from the long table, your dinner in front of you looking great, but you were nowhere near hungry. When you push your chair back to stand, it makes a low noise against the floor of the garden, and his head whips to you immediately.

It was your friend group's traditional holiday you were gathered for, an annual week at Mirabel's family home right on the water. 4 girls and 5 boys, room assignments remaining relatively static throughout the years. There was that one year Clara and Sammy shared a room, but, as both of them would easily say, it wouldn't be happening again.

"Everything okay, y/n/n?" Peter asks from your diagonal, which makes more heads turn to your now standing figure. You let out an uncomfortable huff, disguised as a laugh. Charles can read you like his favorite book.

Your linen dress clings to your body, yet flows off you effortlessly. He remembers seeing it on a hook in your room, wondering how it would look on your figure when he pretended to not watch you change tops. Reality was always better than fantasy, this he knew for certain.

"I'm alright, just chilly. Want to grab my sweater."

"I'll go with you, want to charge my phone anyway," Emma smiles up at you from her seat, standing up as well.

Charles follows your figure with your eyes until you disappear into Mirabel's villa, then continues to pretend to be listening to whatever Peter has begun rambling about.

"Did you see the way he and Oliver left the pantry in disarray this morning?" Emma's practically hissing her disdain, her shorter legs pumping overtime to catch your gait. You were hoping she couldn't.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Charles," she gags. "Tried to cook breakfast, and of course it was shit. Can't believe you didn't know."

You did, you helped him clean it up.

"I feel like it's quite hard to burn oatmeal," you snort, scrubbing the pot.

"Too much sugar in the pot, I suppose. That's how you make yours, yes? With brown sugar?"

You look back at him from where he was leaning against the counter, watching you help him fix his mess. Oliver had cleaned up the spilled flour on the floor of the pantry, then ran out to get pastries from a bakery before the rest of the villa woke up and threatened his life.

"Surprised you remember how I like my breakfast," you say.

"Why?" he asks, cocking his head. "I know a lot about you."

You click your tongue, suddenly shy under his intentional gaze. Your focus is back on the pot, and a stubborn clump of congealed oats. Charles peers around the kitchen quickly, before coming up behind you, a large hand circling your waist.

"How did you sleep? I realize I didn't ever ask," He drops a kiss to the crown of your head when he finishes speaking, and your breath hitches. Not with love or affection, but with a strike of fear, almost. It was an open air kitchen, and while everyone seemed to be sleeping in, you never really could know who may be stirring about.

"Slept fine. Kept the windows open," you shared a room with Clara on these trips, you two were always the closest of the girls growing up and never minded sharing. She didn't say anything when you came in at 2 am with mussed hair and swollen lips, and you were grateful for it.

"You could have stayed, Joris didn't come in until late."

You finally bristle, dropping the pot onto the drying rack. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

You turn in his grasp, eyebrows frayed in the middle of your face. He hates when you look at him like this. "Y/n, we're not children anymore. We're two consenting adults."

"Emma will hate me."

"And is that worth your happiness? Whether or not your friend, who you aren't that close to, by the way, is mad at you?"

"You cheated on her, Charles."

You clear your throat as you blink away the memory. Emma scoffs again at the thought of Charles. "He even had the gall to come out on the patio at the same time as me this afternoon."

"Everyone was on the patio, Emma," you level, already getting irritated with her tone. She irritated you often, Charles wasn't necessarily wrong about your lack of proximity to her. She was always a bit bratty, but had too much history with the group to be left behind, no matter how much she seemed to irk everyone. "You can't expect him to walk on eggshells around you, he's still a part of the group."

Emma stops walking, but you keep pace. "Are you defending a cheater, y/n?" You're glad you didn't stop.

Your eye twitches, and you're glad that she can't see it. This conversation was draining you, yet it's barely started, and already, it's over. She did this nearly every time they were in the same vicinity, and it was getting old. Or maybe, it was the guilt that you were fucking her ex-boyfriend.

It was a mistake that they dated in the first place. He had just broken up with his long term girlfirend, someone you all never seemed to get along with, and Emma's eyes were always slightly googly for the boy. Her attention was more palpable, and better received, than the rest. So they began to fool around, began to hold hands a bit more at group dinners. You heard her say 'boyfriend' much more than he did, though.

The cheating was a bit egregious, even for Charles. For the sake of everyone's friendships, his romance with her was kept under wraps, the superiority of a professional PR team apparent over gossip columns and nosy fans. It was the nosy fans, unfortunately, that had found Charles in a club somewhere in Italy with his tongue down some model's throat.

She cried, shouted, did everything but rip her own hair out at the photos that surfaced. Perhaps it hurt her most that people were excited to see Charles with the woman, finally seen with someone that wasn't an engineer or Vasseur. They didn't know about her, and frankly, they never would. She was never terribly important to Charles, everyone knew that, and now she did too.

The group had moved on, sans Emma. No one really made fusses about it in the first place, their relationship running its course over only about 3 months. The boys saw it coming and, well, the girls had warned her. A rebound was always obvious to those watching.

The worst part, the part that made you feel so ill all the time, is Charles wanted to be yours, and you wanted to be anywhere but the villa.

You grab your sweater off of the chair at the vanity mirror in your room, bristling at the chill coming from the open window you had left during the night, and now day. You hear the laughter of your friends, of Peter shouting over Oliver, and Charles laughing from his belly. You hate that you can tell his laughter from the rest.

When you sit back down at the table, Clara waits for you to scoot your chair back in and place the napkin in your lap. "You lost her inside, eh?"

You crack a smile, Clara was your most blunt, and funniest, friend. "Had to, lest I hear about Charles's trespasses again."

Clara chuckles into her wine glass. "If only she knew."

In a lowered voice, you turn closer to her. "I think she may actually lose her mind if she found out, Clara."

She rolls her eyes. "Find out what? That you two are obsessed with each other, yet you won't take him seriously? That she was collateral? Shit happens."

"That's not what this is."

"Please. He'd marry you tomorrow if given the opportunity, y/n. Deep down, she knows that was never her anyway."

When you look back up at Charles, he's already looking at you, looking so endearing that you have to look back down at your chicken and roasted vegetables. You're still not hungry.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

It happened quickly, but the buildup seemed to make it inevitable. You were always a friend of the leclercs, your mother's growing an affinity for each other when you were quite young. You grew up alongside the boys, Charles always having a soft spot for you in particular. Charles escorted you every time your father hosted a gala, and voluntarily was your designated driver on nights out. One in particular, 6 months ago, sealed fates.

"Charlie, just take one shot."

"If I take a shot, I won't be driving," he laughs at you, looking at you with little twinkles in his eyes. He and Emma had just finally broken up, the past 3 months couldn't be categorized as anything but odd. After they had notified the group, in their own respective ways, you had seemed to have gotten your fun loving, a tad awkward, but always down for what you were plotting, Charlie back. He had agreed in a heartbeat to meet you and Clara at the club. It makes you grin.

"That's fine, uber exists. Have fun for once, please?" You pout, tequila speaking for you. Everything was already a bit hazy, much funnier than normal, and less serious.

"Yeah, come on Chaaaarlie," Clara giggles knowingly. He'd do anything if you asked for it, this was a fact.

With a shake of his head and faked disdain, he downs the shot, hears your cheers, and suddenly, one shot is seven and you're both screaming the lyrics to an old Fergie song that blasts through the speakers.

Heels were a bad, but stunning, idea. You felt cute and confident, but by the time you had stopped dancing like a mad person to get a drink of water, the balls of your feet began to throb.

"Please don't take your shoes off in this place," Charles begs.

"Don't be my father," you frown. "My feet hurt."

"Your feelings will be what's hurting when someone steals these off the section couch," he points to your feet, and there was a touch of validity. They were Jimmy Choos, after all, and cost more than you could comprehend. Charles often went overboard on your birthday gifts.

"I'll take that risk."

"I'll hold them."

"You won't," you say with a laugh, used to his dramatics. But he shocks you, gingerly picking them off the couch and holding them on his index and middle finger.

"Charlie, put my shoes down."

"I will do no such thing."

Somehow, somewhere between promising Clara you'd text her when the uber dropped you and Charles off at his place, helping him get the key into the lock of his door, and sitting on his kitchen island, Charles finds himself in between your legs, staring into your eyes that had glitter and mascara surrounding them.

It wasn't normal of "best friends" to be around each other like this. He knew that. He hadn't wanted to be just your best friend in a while though, but having you in that capacity was better than nothing at all. Especially when he had seemingly bounced from one girlfriend to the other, and deep down, he knew it was because he was bored. They weren't you, no matter how much imitation was attempted. Perhaps the only person who was aloof to his truest desires, was you.

"You looked very pretty tonight, y/n/n."

"You looked dashing yourself," you wink, "the girls in there told you that though, no?"

He rolls his eyes. "That wasn't anything. Just fans, same shit as usual."

"You usually are being hit on by pretty girls, is what you're saying?" You continue to tease. Charles can't stand your smart mouth sometimes, especially how much he can't help but love it.

"To be fair, I don't really notice. I'm always looking at you, anyway."

You don't have a response for that. He's never said it outright, never crossing the line. But now he has, and there's no going back.

"Charles, you just broke up with Emma."

"I know,"

"You cheated on her."

"I know,"

"I'm your best friend."

His turn to grin. "I know."

In a fashion completely unlike you, throwing caution to the wind felt like the only option, pulling him in with your legs, locking around the back of his waist, lips pressed onto his, hair between your fingers. He tastes like tequila and mint gum, like the things you regret yet adore. He wonders if this means the same to you as it means to him.

When you wake up in his bed, makeup removed and your favorite shirt of his draped over your body, you inhale deeply when you feel the familiar soreness stretching through your lower half, and the weight of his arm roped around your body. Now that you've gotten your taste, you weren't giving it up.

"Did you pack the aloe vera?" You hear him from your doorway, blinking back from yet another memory.

"'S in the bathroom, look in the blue toiletry bag," you call, not looking away from where you were taking your hooped earrings out in the mirror. It was a domestic encounter in a way, like a scene taken out of context 20 years from now. Maybe one day, you'd be on holiday with a family of your own, enjoying silence once your kids were asleep after playing in the water all day. Maybe you'd be actually sharing a room, instead of whatever the fuck this was.

"You seemed off at dinner, everything okay?" Charles asks, rubbing the gel on his soon-to-be-peeling nose.

"Fine," you shrug, turning back to look at him, and not just his reflection. "Just wasn't so hungry. And cold, like I said."

He chuckles a little to himself. "I could tell," he nods with his head down to your chest. Your nipples had pearled, and supposedly, had been pearled, and were obvious through the thin fabric of your fitting dress.

"Jesus Charles," you berate, turning back to your mirror. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm a man," he corrects. "Who's seen what's under that dress and thinks it's a great sight. But I also like your mind and your personality and all that, of course." Idiot. He sits on your bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard as he watches you get ready for bed. Domesticity. "Will you be going back to Monaco after this?"

"No, visiting Clara's family in the states for a little."

He makes a discontent noise. "How long?"

"A week," you answer. "Miami."

"Fun, going to go out?"

"What is it to you?" You ask, half jokingly, half alerted by his series of questions.

He shrugs this time. "Care about you, want to know what your plans are. Is it a crime?"

"No, just makes me fear you're in love with me."

"I'm on my way to that, I tell you that all the time. And you make jokes because you know it's true."

You stand up from the vanity, looking at him with an expression that makes his heart hurt. It's that wounded puppy look, the way you used to look at Arthur when Charles would tell him to fuck off from trying to hang out with the two of you as teenagers.

"I don't really know what to say when you say those things." He stands up from your bed, meeting you where you stand in the middle of you and Clara's room. He still smells just like all your favorite aspects of summer, and that tired look in his eyes from a day of relaxation and release melts you. "I know I'm in my head."

"'S a good head to be in." He moves the strans of your hair that were falling over your forehead behind your ear, smoothing his fingers over your jawline until his fingers lift your chin. "That's better. Couldn't see your face."

"What is this, Charlie?" Your eyes search his, and he hates how scared you look. "Like, seriously. We, we fuck, we sleep in the same bed more than we don't."

"We always have done that, you've shared with Enzo and Arthur before too I'm sure."

"Don't be dense."

"I think that's just how I am, mon amour."

"Such a shithead," you mutter with a huff, annoyed with his smug expression. "I'm being serious. If sex is just what you want, or need, right now, I don't think I can do this anymore."

"It's much more than that to me, don't insult me," He no longer has a grin on his face, mouth turned much more stoic. "My actions precede me, yes," you withold commentary on that, "but I'd never do anything to hurt you, y/n/n. I care about you, think about you all the time, want you wherever I am, always."

A part of you thinks this is what you've always wanted to hear. A gorgeous, successful, personable man who you've grown to trust infallibly your whole life is 5 feet short of professing his love for you, and yet, you can't let yourself fully be happy. Because for the last 6 months, you've ducked and dodged your own friends, not wanting them to know about the two of you. He did cheat, for crying out loud. On someone you have baby photos with. No matter how annoying, or selfish, she comes off, Emma wasn't going anywhere in your life. And you'd be devastated if she did this to you, so he remained your dirty little secret.

"Am I interrupting?" Clara says teasingly from the doorway, a wine glass still in her hands. "Sorry, Mirabel wanted me to check on you."

You clear your throat and step away from Charles. "Not at all. Charlie's got a sun burn."

"Ah. You are pale," Clara notes. "Figures."

"Thanks, Clar."

"Still drinking?" You nod toward her glass. "Pour me one, will you?"

"Sure will." She turns, and you make to follow.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, I think."

"Y/n,"

"Not right now," you say firmly, "please?"

And you've got that withered look, that look that screams exhaustion. Guilt's gonna kill him one day, he's sure.

"Fine."

And with that, you head out the door, leaving Charles in your room, regretting not telling you how he felt about you when his girlfriend told him to. Before Emma took that mantle instead, and before you started looking at him like it was hard to do so.

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Sammy brings it up first, but the entirety of the day was the beginning of the end of secrecy.

The next day had been decided as a boat day, everyone prepared for another long day in the sun, this time on the open waves. The girls had all gone below deck, in search of champagne and a bottle opener, and Sammy and Charles were far enough from Oliver, Joris, and Peter for them to hear a conversation.

"I've got a question I think," Sammy asks. He makes an affirmative noise, head leaned back against the cushions of the lounger, sunglasses sliding down his still peeling nose. "Are you and y/n hooking up?"

Charles immeditely looks up at Sammy, mouth open in a scramble for the most believable way to say no. "No, ah, why would you say that?" oh dear.

"Mate," Sammy winces.

"Fuck me," Charles yanks the glasses off and wipes both hands over his face. He keeps them there when he asks, "how?"

"Leaving hickeys is one thing, her jewelry on your bedside table is another." The central heating unit for their floor was in Joris and Charles's room, Sammy did go to adjust it yesterday morning. Fuck. "Does Emma know?"

"No," Charles says quickly. "No. Y/n doesn't want anyone to."

Sammy quirks his mouth to the side. "Well, are you dating?"

"No,"

"Ah." Sammy looks out on the water, stewing over this confirmed theory of his. You all suddenly appear from inside, cheering with a bottle clutched in Emma's hand, you with the opener. When he looks back at Charles, he sees that even though all four of you stand there he's looking at you. This must be sympathy for the devil, Sammy thinks, because why else is he feeling bad for someone whose problem was multiple attractive women had feelings for him?

"Charlie, can you help?" you pout, unable to get the cork loose from the bottle. It was obvious you were tipsy, drunk even, you all had been drinking since the sun came up.

"Fucks sake y/n, use your arm!" Clara groans. Sammy looks back at Charles, willing him with his brain to not be at your beck and call for once.

"I've got it," Charles chuckles, like an idiot, if you ask Sammy. He pops it, a cheer coming from the group at the appearance of bubbles and spray. It gets all over his hands as he attempts to hold the bottle away from his body, and he shakes the excess off as the cheers continue. Oliver whisks the bottle away to be divied up between everyone's cups, and Charles goes inside to wash his hands off. You slink off behind him, unbeknownst to him, or the rest of your friends, except for Emma, whose interest is piqued by your sudden absences.

"Thanks for the help," your voice is sweet in the silence of the kitchenette.

His head whips to your figure, slightly startled by your presence. You're barefoot, a brown bikini only covering what's absolutely necessary to be covered. He can't tell if he loves it or he hates it. Your open button up shirt tossed on as a cover up intrigues him, because, is that his?

"Is that my shirt?" Charles repeats, out loud this time, eyes trained like heat seekers as you move close. His hands lay in the towel, champagne still dripping off his fingers. You've seemed to have distracted his process.

"No, but it seems like you would love it if it was."

He raises his shoulders. "You're welcome to them."

You hum, "good to know." You're looking at him like prey, it makes his throat dry and he's not sure what to say. You're always the bubbly one, the sunshine when he's being grumpy and difficult.

Charles lifts his hands from the towel that he still hasn't utilized yet, pushing his luck by placing a hand on your hip. He plays with the string on your right hip, fingers begging to untie the bow. "You only like talking to me when we're in kitchens, huh?"

He makes you laugh with that, or maybe it's the alchohol making you do it. "I always like talking to you. It's you that can't keep hands to yourself."

A hand slides up his chest, resting casually, yet his heart races faster. That familiar, warm feeling settles in his lower stomach, and he wills himself not to harden like a teenager. "We both have a problem with hands, I see."

You tilt your head in challenge. You pull his hand off of your hip and lift it, analyzing the digits still drenched in champagne. And to his utter surprise, you take his index finger into your mouth. The eye contact you hold as you do so has his mouth dropping open slightly in a daze, mind going to static as he feels the warmth and wetness, the pucker of your lips. You hum as you release his finger with a pop, licking your lips.

"Don't think I have a problem with your hands at all, Charles."

Charles, not Charlie. He's ruined.

How you saunter away after that leaves him gobsmacked, flustered, and most of all, hoping this boat would be docking soon.

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"I have an offer for you," is how you start the conversation. You're all showered, evening attire thrown on and awaiting the metaphorical dinner bell. The two of you plus Peter were sat out on the patio, and were left alone when Peter ran in to the bathroom for a moment.

"When I come back home, we should go on date."

Charles thinks he mishears you. "What?"

"A date, Charlie. You know, when two people who share a romantic interest go out toge-"

"Enough, smartass," He stops your condescension. "You would go on one with me?"

You take a deep breath. "Yeah, I would. I like you, and all that."

"And all that," he repeats. "What every man wants to hear."

"Do you want to go on the date or not?"

"I do, I really do. Have wanted to for a while, you know."

You smile softly, resting your head on the lounger. "I know."

"Dinner's ready," Emma comes out to announce. When she sees it's only the two of you, her expression changes slightly, something only you'd notice after years of experiencing emotions from her. "Where's Peter?"

"Bathroom," you answer easily. Emma looks at the two of you intently, and Charles turns towards the water, not really interested in making conversation with the woman who's profusely stated her aversion to him.

"Hm. Well, come down soon."

When she closes the glass doors, Charles all but laughs out loud. "What a nightmare."

"Your ex," you rebut, "can't believe that to this day. If you didn't like her, why'd you do it?"

"Because I didn't think I could have you."

His veins fill with regret when he says it, he knows its not fair. But it's true, you know it as well. "Well, no more collateral damage, then." You stand up from the lounger, brushing down your dress. "Pick a good restaurant for the date."

Dinner begins well, Mirabel telling stories and Oliver denying them all. It's when the laughter dies down after Joris recounts their last trip to Nice that things begin to slant.

"Y/n/n," Emma calls from down the table. You turn to her, as everyone does.

"Yeah, Em?"

"I just have been dying to know," she starts, clasping her hands under her chin. "How long have you and Charles been fucking?"

Peter chokes on his wine. The table is utterly silent, and everyone's face carries the same shocked expression. And, wow, you've pictured this moment dozens of ways and hundreds of times, but honestly, this one was rare form. But after everything, especially today, caution was once again to the wind.

"About 6 months," you calmly answer, reaching for your glass. "Give or take."

"You bitch," she hisses. "Are you not even ashamed of yourself?"

"Are you not going to address Charles in the slightest, or is it just y/n's fault that they have sex?" Clara asks, and Mirabel and Oliver can't help the snicker in their chests. Sammy takes another piece of salmon from the middle platter.

"Yes, I could have said something," you mull.

Emma looks around, utter disbelief on her face as it seems everyone's refusing to intervene on this one. You can't blame them, and those who did know, well, their wine glasses are filled.

Emma gets up from the table with a curse of Charles's name and a disgusted look your way, and Clara clears her throat.

"So, anyone have any recommendations for clubs in Miami?"

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 1 year

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The One I Can Save - Dr James Wilson x peds!reader

description: James needs to assure his love that she can't save everyone, but there's one she's the most worried about saving.

requested: yes - @flowercrowns-goodvibes

word count: 1.7k

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of child death, angst

authors note: I went a bit angsty for the request but I'd already had this as the bones of an idea so I just ran with it! Enjoy!

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN FOR PEDS!READER- request here

*Your pov*

I don’t know how long I’d been sat there. An hour, two hours, maybe even three. I didn’t want to leave. She looked so peaceful. Her eyelids fluttered every so often and as they did, I reached out to calm them again. How could I let this happen? It had been staring me right in the face, but I missed it. I missed her.

I brought my pink sneakers up onto the chair, so my tears were muffled by my scrubs.

“How long does she have?” the velvety tone belonged to the oncologist stood in the door, who’s sympathetic gaze on my defeated frame was the last thing I wanted but also the only thing I needed. He could make this go away. He was the best at what he did, he could fix her. All I wanted was for him to bundle me up in his arms and tell me it was all going to be okay. Even if it was a lie. But I wanted the lie. I needed them to lie to me. Tell me there was nothing I could’ve done, tell me that she was in the best hands. I looked down at my own and shuddered at how much I mistrusted them now.

“Best case scenario, a week? Worst case,” my breath hitched. “Tonight.”

All at once everything flooded out of my heart and echoed in the room as a shriek. James sped into action and clasped me in his arms, in the only way he knew worked. My trembling frame beat against his chest, and I threw my head down next to his heart. The tears seeped into his baby blue shirt, the one I remembered buying him just three days ago. He always looked good in blue. The familiar smell did little to comfort me no matter how hard I tried to bury myself in it. James merely held on tight, afraid that if he let me go, I wouldn’t return. He always thought about all the joy and protection I brought to these children and often wondered who was there to protect me. Well now, he was. And in his arms, I felt at home.

Time passed but it felt like seconds before James was rousing me from the daze I had fallen into.

“Let’s go. Being here, you’re only hurting yourself.” I felt myself go limp, unwilling to face the reality that leaving her bedside would mean. James cradled my hand and supported my waist to lead me out of the girls room. My gaze remained firmly fixed on her closed eyes and I relied on his support to encourage my feet to walk out. I looked exactly like the patients we’d both come to know, being led back to their room, unable to walk on their own. I no longer looked like the omnipotent doctor people loved and respected, instead I was a child being carried back to their room after they fell asleep on the couch.

---

We reached James’ office minutes after. I traipsed in, still caught in a daze. I turned to my boyfriend as he mouthed some words to me, but my brain could not comprehend any sound that came out of his lips.

“What?”

“Sit down.” He lulled. His large hands clasped my shaking shoulders, and he firmly but softly manoeuvred me onto the sofa. As I sunk into the brown leather which had supported my body after many late nights with James in his office, and some other nights as well, he crouched between my thighs. A single finger supported my chin and tilted it up, so my swollen eyes met his.

“Tell me.”

I shrugged with an unconvincing laugh.

“Tell me.”

“What do you want to know?” I continued to laugh but it lacked conviction.

“Everything.” He spoke earnestly. “If it’s in that busy head of yours, I want to know.”

My lips parted but no sound passed through. I couldn’t even look at him. If I looked into those forgiving chocolate pools my resolve would crumble, and most likely my tear ducts too.

“I could’ve stopped it.”

“The tumour had been there for many years. It was malignant. Nothing could have been done except what you did, which was keeping her calm and comfortable.” As he spoke, he ran his fingers through my hair and the tensions in my spine slowly relaxed.

I pushed his hands away.

“But I could’ve spotted it. It was right there!” I giggled with tears in my eyes. At this point I stood up and started to pace. “I took how many MRI’s? Did how many checks.” I let out a gut-wrenching laugh and James flinched witnessing the start of my spiral. “And it was right there! Staring at me. I’m not saying I could’ve cured it, I’m not you!”

James softly smiled seeing how, even in my state, my brain still managed to compliment him.

“But I could’ve told her. Then maybe her parents would’ve made it back from California and that little girl would be surrounded by her loved ones instead of the doctor who failed her!”

My voice raised and James took this as his sign to embrace me again. My wails were muffled by his chest. Eventually we separated once a pat on his chest assured him, I was calm again.

“I told them.” I whispered.

“What, darling?” He pulled back to look at my sunken head.

“I told them to go. Said she’d be fine.”

He took my cheeks in his hands and began to softly rub under my eyes.

“You are not a god. You are human.” He leans in but before our lips could lock, he says “my favourite human.” My giggle gives him permission to complete the kiss.

“You can’t save them all.” He gifts me another kiss.

“I know but if I can’t even look after her how am I supposed to look after this baby-“

It was as if time stood still, our lips merely inches away. James swallowed down the news I had just blurted out.

“Baby?”

“Yes?” I answered with an innocent grin. His hand slid down and felt around for the beginnings of a bump.

“That’s—our baby---my baby?”

“Yes.” I whispered as if saying it any louder would wake them up.

“we’re having a baby?” he said even softer.

“Yes.” I said with much more conviction. There were now tears in both our eyes as I threw my arms around his neck. He grasped my waist as I wrapped my legs around him. We jumped about his office like a couple of teens, just so desperately in love.

James came to his senses and hurriedly placed me back on the couch, scared of even the slightest movement.

“James, please, I’m not fragile.” I sighed at his overprotectiveness.

“Yes, you are,” he said as he looked up into my eyes with his hands still on my bump. “And even if you didn’t have the baby, I would still protect you with my life.”

“Well, it is your job,” I teased, leaning forward to rub my nose against his.

“And it is my favourite job in the world.” He leant up to give me one more kiss. This one deepened and ended up with the two of us intertwined on his couch.

---

*3 months later*

As I picked up the files, my hand unconsciously went to rub the now visible bump. Even as I walked, I couldn’t take my hands off of it. Always reassuring myself she was still there. I made my way to the clinic, ready to put in my hours for the day. I had a love-hate relationship with the clinic. Some days I found it relaxing, simple problems that had simple solutions. With my help these people’s lives could be just that bit easier. But some days it was harder. Harder to hear these grown adults whining about coughs when I had children on my ward who may not see Christmas. But recently, I couldn’t hate anything. Everything seemed to be falling into place. James and I were starting our little family. Tonight, James and I were even shopping for a crib. House insisted on coming with, but James offered him a double prescription of Vicodin if he left us alone. He’d taken the paper before James could even finish speaking. Which meant tonight was just about us two and our little muffin.

“Dr y/l/n, exam room 5.”

“Thank you, Janie.”

I entered the room and stopped in my tracks.

“Mr and Mrs Carter.” Everything came flooding back and I cradled my bump protectively.

“Dr y/l/n” Mr Carter stood up from the seat as his wife gazed out the window.

The parents of the little girl. The little girl who died the night I told James of my pregnancy. The little girl I had lost.

As he approached me, I retreated back towards the door. They were lovely people, but grief changes a person and I knew the lengths I would go to for my own child.

“We wanted to come here today, to thank you.” I paused.

“Thank me?”

“We were worried you would feel guilty, and we just wanted to let you know that you are the last person who should feel any guilt. You took care of our baby when we couldn’t be there and that’s all we can ask for.” Mr Carter held my shoulders to make sure his words registered. “You did a good job.” A loud sob broke through. I hurriedly covered my mouth with my hand. “I thought you might need to hear that.” A laugh joined my tears and I crumbled into the embrace of Mr Carter. He held me with the poise only a father could have. A father without a child.

“We actually came a week ago, but we couldn’t find you.” Mrs Carter finally spoke up and gestured to my protruding bump. “Another doctor told us your news.”

“So, we wanted to come back to give you this.” She gripped something in her hands. As they unclasped and she offered it to me I saw it was a pink knitted onesie.

“It was Katies.” Mrs Carter could barely get through the sentence before it was stopped by an onslaught of sobs. I carefully took the knitwear, unsure of it in my hands.

Mr Carter collected his wife in a hug with such familiarity. He then turned to me and offered me a consoling nod directed towards the pink bundle in my hands.

“We want you to have it. Congratulations.”

#dr james wilson #dr james wilson x peds!reader #dr james wilson x reader #james wilson #house md #dr house x reader #house x reader

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doumidas-whumps · 25 days

Text

getting to know port (not all that well)

Sonny has recently been reassigned to a new owner. He notices some things about Porter, the other household pet.

this is mostly a scene setter for my BBU-inspired guys (with some whumpy flavoring). my version of the BBU is a little different than the 'standard' but still recognizable. hoping to get more familiar with their personalities as I write more things for them!

content warnings: BBU/box boy/pet whump, abusive pet/master dynamics (par for the course)

~~~~~

From what Sonny had gathered, Porter was a refurb. Not that Port had ever told him— the guy held his cards pretty close to his chest. Sonny hardly knew anything about him, really, even after a month of sleeping on the floor next to him. All he knew for sure was that Port had been in this house with Mr. Oz for a while now.

“It’ll be two years in October,” is what he said when Sonny asked him, and with way too much enthusiasm.

Port liked to act like this house was all he had ever known, but sometimes he had this look in his eyes that Sonny had seen before in some of the others in the Barn. That too-intense, wide-eyed, twitchy look like he had been through hell.

Sonny didn’t know exactly what the refurbishment process involved, and he sure as hell didn’t want to find out, but he was trained alongside a few guys that had come out the other end of it more or less alive. Sometimes W.R.U. sold off refurbs to the Barn, mostly if they thought the refurbs were too damaged to sell but didn’t want to take a complete loss.

It made Sonny wonder what Port had done to deserve that, because he couldn’t imagine him ever disobeying orders. Maybe refurbishment fixed whatever fight he had in him. Sonny shuttered just thinking about it, despite the stuffy heat of the kitchen.

Mr. Oz had tried cooking god-knows-what earlier that afternoon. Looked like some sort of soup or stew that had boiled over and left a brown sticky mess all over the stovetop. Sonny already knew his master didn’t know how to cook, but this just cemented in his mind that he should try and steer Mr. Oz away from the kitchen at all costs. Best to leave the cooking to him and Port. (Mostly Port, because he was better at it.)

Sonny wasn’t there to witness the incident, but whatever happened, Mr. Oz was all pissed about it and even pulled Sonny away from bathroom cleaning duty to fix his mess, hence why Sonny had been scrubbing the stove with an old toothbrush for the past fifteen minutes.

“If this ain’t cleaned up and dinner ain’t on the table by the time I get back, you really won’t like what happens next,” he’d said, gripping Sonny’s bicep like a vice and wagging his stupid thick finger in his face. Sonny had been on the receiving end of threats like that ever since he got here a month ago, but they still put him on edge every time. He never knew if Mr. Oz would act on them or not. Sometimes he would come back in a better mood and grant him mercy, but other times he would follow through and then some.

Some part of him was still naïve enough to hope that he could avoid being hurt if he did exactly what Mr. Oz asked, but in reality his master was volatile even at the best of times and it usually didn’t matter. It was safer just to assume he would be hurt every time so he could be pleasantly surprised if he wasn’t. At this point, Sonny was pretty sure Mr. Oz liked beating on him just for kicks. Maybe because he was fresh.

Port as much more hardened, on the other hand. He didn’t tremble or whimper like Sonny did. He would take a punishment silently and would probably even smile and thank him if he was asked to.

Sick with longing for his old master, Sonny rubbed his face with his free hand, wincing as he accidentally pressed on a tender bruise from last night. He tried not to think about his old master too much, through it was hard not to when he was stuck doing shit like this. His old master hardly ever threatened him, and when he did it was at least for good reason. And Sonny certainly never had to clean stovetops back then. Sighing, Sonny lifted one of the burner grates and started scrubbing the blackened crust underneath.

That was something else he didn’t get about Porter. He didn’t seem to mind their master’s treatment at all. Hell, the way Port acted about him you’d think he was an angel. Sonny thought Mr. Oz really wasn’t much better than the handlers he’d trained under. That was another reason Sonny figured he must’ve belonged to someone else at some point. When Sonny brought it up, though, Port just said, “I don’t remember anything from before I got here,” which Sonny knew was definitely a damn lie because those W.R.U. guys were at least supposed to remember their training, refurbished or not.

With a small jolt of alarm, Sonny realized they should probably get supper started soon if they both wanted to avoid their master’s wrath. Putting the dirty toothbrush down and tugging at his chafing collar, he moved to the window to see if he could spot Port outside. He had been weeding for a few hours now, his latest gardening project.

Peeking out the window, Sonny could see the top of his ginger head moving around in all the green of the yard. Sonny wasn’t allowed to go outside, so he opened the window and called out. Port’s freckled face popped up from behind the bushes.

“D’you need something?” he asked.

“Mr. Oz wants supper on the table before he gets home.”

Port looked over his shoulder to the sky like the sun would tell him when he would be getting back. “What time is it?”

“’Bout 5:30.”

Port wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, which just rubbed more dirt onto his face. “We should be okay, but I’ll head in after I finish this section. He’s not supposed to be home ’til 7, he said.”

Sonny wanted to argue with him, tell him that he should get supper started as soon as possible in case Mr. Oz came back, but tamped down the urge. Porter was usually right about these things.

Even though Sonny had his gripes with him, Port was refreshingly levelheaded. One time, maybe three or four days after Sonny had first arrived to the house, he’d accidentally dropped a bowl while washing the dishes and the damned thing cracked, broke right in two. At that point he was already familiar enough with Mr. Oz’s personality to know what would be in store for him if he found out. With all the stress of the new environment, new rules, and new expectations building for the past few days, the bowl made something break in him. He fell, he shook, he cried, the whole nine yards.

Port had appeared at his side, kneeled beside him, rubbed gentle circles into his back. “It’s okay,” he had said. “We can throw it away out back. Master won’t even notice it’s gone.” Then he’d stood up and offered his hands to Sonny, who took them and let Port help him up. Port even went as far as cleaning up the ceramic himself while Sonny wiped his face with a damp paper towel. Just like he said, Mr. Oz never even noticed the missing bowl.

So Sonny didn’t argue. He just closed the window and returned to the kitchen, where he started to scrub a little more vigorously.

#whump #whump writing #whumpblr #bbu whump #pet whump #box boy whump #box boy universe #institutionalized slavery #group whumpees #multiple whumpees #conditioned whumpee #the classic breaking a dish trope (in flashback)#box boy #ficmidas #porter oz #sonny oz #i'll draw sonny too eventually

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youngpettyqueen · 1 year

Note

"I’m sorry—" "No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault" for houlihawk 👀

this. got away from me a bit in terms of length but the dialogue started writing itself so who can blame me

The rain has softened from a vicious downpour to a peaceful pattering, the sound filling the empty OR. Hawkeye tries to focus on that and not on what's to come, looking away as Margaret takes a swab soaked with alcohol to the cut in his palm, sliced just underneath his fingers.

The calming pitter-patter of the rain is, unfortunately, not enough of a distraction. He still hisses sharply the second the alcohol touches the wound, clenching and unclenching his free fist a few times to fight the urge to jerk his injured hand out of Margaret's grasp.

"Sorry," Margaret winces, even as she continues to dab at the bloody cut and he continues to whine, "Sorry, I'm sorry-"

"No-" Hawkeye cuts in before she can get another apology in, "No, don't be sorry. It's not your fault,” She doesn’t look up at him, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the task at hand, her mouth set in a deep scowl. That makes a little red flag go a-waving in his head, so he tries, “You do know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Of course it was my fault,” Margaret’s tone bites as it comes out, though he can tell the harshness isn’t directed at him, “I’m the one who stabbed you.”

“Stabbed?” Hawkeye echoes incredulously, “Woah, woah, pump the brakes, Margaret. I know I’m being a big baby about it, but let’s not get dramatic. This is a nick!” He exclaims, gesturing at the cut with his free hand for emphasis, “It’s really not that bad! I could still operate with it, remember?” It hurt like a bitch to do so, of course, but he keeps that tidbit to himself, “It’ll be a funny story in a few days, I promise.”

Margaret shakes her head, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Don’t try to make me feel better, not when I made a stupid mistake like this,” She says, scrubbing a bit harder at the blood that had managed to dry in the lines of his palm, “I could’ve seriously hurt you, and why?” She asks, and then, not waiting for an answer, supplies, “Because I couldn’t keep myself under control.”

“C’mon, Margaret, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Hawkeye pleads, “It was the perfect storm. Literally. The perfect storm to take out our generator, make it so dark you couldn't see properly, and then scare you half to death with thunder so loud you'd think we were being bombed. Half the OR jumped out of their skin, it could’ve happened to anybody!” He insists, “You just happened to be giving me a scalpel and my hand just happened to be within slicing range,” She glares at him and he winces, “Ok, sorry, not my best choice of words. But you get my point- it was an accident.” He presses.

Margaret inspects her work for a moment, examining the cleaned wound. “It won’t need stitches,” She tells him, completely avoiding everything he just said, “But I still need to dress it. Hold still.” She advises, looking away to rummage through his medical bag, which sits between them on the operating table.

“Margaret,” He says. When she doesn’t reply, he tries again, “Margaret.”

“What?” Margaret shoots another glare at him as she opens a dressing pad, “There’s no excuse for it! What kind of nurse hurts her doctor because she can’t handle a little thunder? What kind of-“ She folds the dressing around the wound and presses it in place a bit harder than necessary, drawing another painful hiss out of him, “Sorry! Sorry,” She’s quick to relax her grip, “I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I’m such a mess…”

“It’s alright,” Hawkeye reassures her. She doesn’t look convinced, quickly looking away from him and grabbing out a roll of bandages, “But to answer your question, I know exactly what kind of nurse does that,” Her eyes flick to him, unsure, and he tells her, “The human kind.”

Margaret rolls her eyes. "Don't even try that with me, Hawkeye," She turns her attention back to his hand as she starts to wrap. “I should be better than that.”

Hawkeye raises a brow at her. “Better than human?” He asks.

“Yes,” She snips, then quickly corrects, “No. I..." She sighs, her hands coming to a pause, "I don’t know.”

It’s Hawkeye’s turn to frown. “This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” She doesn’t answer. He leans forward into her space, tapping his knee against hers, “What’s going on? Talk to me.” He invites.

"Everything's fine." Margaret replies, automatic.

Hawkeye ducks down, trying to angle himself under her to force the eye contact. "Try again." He prompts.

Margaret closes her eyes, then sighs heavily. "Fine," She meets his eyes at last, “I wouldn’t let what happened today fly if it was one of my nurses who did it. So, I can’t let it fly for me,” She admits, “I’m supposed to be setting an example for them. What kind of example am I setting when I can’t control myself over some thunder? What kind of example will I be setting if this happens during shelling?” She resumes wrapping his injured hand, looping the bandage around his wrist a few times, “I should be able to just… power through. Get over it.” She insists.

Hawkeye can understand where she’s coming from. The weights on their shoulders are different, but similar enough in some ways that he can really feel for her here. He knows how it feels to need to set an example. He knows how it feels when he can’t meet the standard he’s set. He knows how it feels to need to get over something that can’t be gotten over. He knows fear.

But he also knows that the soft, relating approach he would usually employ won’t work with her. She doesn't respond to softness, not when she's feeling like this. The best way to get through to her is to be blunt, direct.

So he asks, “Would you tell me to just get over my claustrophobia?”

Margaret’s eyes snap up to his face again. Her brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

“My claustrophobia,” Hawkeye repeats, “You know, the thing that made it so I couldn’t stay in a cave for more than a few seconds. The totally irrational fear that if the place I’m in is small enough, it’ll just run out of air. Would you tell me to just get over that?” He asks.

“Of course not.” Margaret’s reply is immediate, she looks almost offended at the question.

“Alright,” Hawkeye leans in a bit more, “Then why do you think you ‘just need’ to get over your fear of loud noises?”

She stares at him for a moment. “Because…” She starts, but trails off, “Because… well, because…” A couple more attempts bear nothing. She looks back at his hand, “That’s different.”

He’s not letting her off that easily. “How so?”

“It just is.” She replies stubbornly.

“Explain it to me.” He challenges.

Margaret opens her mouth. Closes it. Then she sighs. “Alright, I see your point,” She concedes, “I suppose I’m being a bit unfair on myself.”

“Only a bit,” Hawkeye agrees, unable to help a little smirk. That quickly softens as he continues, “The only example you’re setting for the nurses is that you’re as human as they are. Because like it or not, Margaret, you’re only human. They won’t think any less of you for that. I know I don’t,” He taps his knee against hers again, this time playfully, “In fact, I think it’s one of your best features.” He cracks, trying to inject some levity.

Margaret considers him for a moment, her eyes searching his face. Then that frown of hers finally softens, her shoulder visibly relaxing as some tension leaves her body. “Thank you, Hawkeye,” She murmurs. She looks down at his hand as she finishes wrapping, holding it gently in both of her own, “I… I am sorry, though. Really.” She adds.

Hawkeye raises a wry brow at her. “It’s gonna be no fun to use this to extort you if you keep acting like a kicked puppy about it,” He informs her. When that doesn’t get a smile on her face, he continues, “It’s fine, Margaret. Really. You did worse to me with the whip that one-“

Her eyes immediately widen like saucers. "Hawkeye!" She hisses, scandalized, quickly looking around the empty OR as if someone might pop up from the shadows to catch them.

Hawkeye laughs, unable to help himself at the sight of the red quickly colouring her cheeks. "Sorry, sorry," He says, even though he's not really sorry at all, “But really- I'm fine. Like I said, it’ll be a funny story a few days from now. And I promise to only use it to get attention from you once per day. Cross my heart,” He crosses his hand over his heart with a teasing grin, “Wouldn’t want to worry you, after all. Even if you fussing over me like this is kinda sweet.” He admits.

Margaret harrumphs, sitting back with a frown, but it quickly becomes obvious she's fighting a smile and losing. "I'm not sweet." She tells him.

"Mm," Hawkeye hums, "Course not, that's why you're still holding my hand," He holds it up to demonstrate, as both her hands follow where they're looped around his wrist, "Kiss it better?" He requests, just to be cheeky.

Margaret raises a brow at him. Then she rolls her eyes, shaking her head as that fond smile he's been trying to draw out finally graces her face. "I bet you think you're cute." She says.

"I'm adorable," He agrees, "C'mon, one little kiss. You know boo-boos can't get better without kisses." He waves his injured hand a little for emphasis.

"Is that your professional opinion, doctor?" She asks. At his eager nod, she giggles quietly, "Alright, alright," And then she brings his hand up to press a quick, delicate kiss to his palm, "There. All better." She says as she lowers his hand back down, covering it with both of her own.

“Think I could convince you to give me one of those right here?” Hawkeye asks, pointing at his lips.

Margaret smiles oh-so-sweetly at him. “Not unless you’ve got an injury that needs attention.” She replies.

“Gimme two minutes to find Charles, I bet I can get him to punch me in the mouth.” He presses.

Margaret laughs, a proper laugh this time. Bright against the gloomy backdrop of the rain outside. "You're ridiculous!" She cackles.

Hawkeye just smiles. "Yeah." He agrees. He's already won his victory- her sunbeam smile, warm and glowing and all too easy to bask in.

#fic bitching #mash #hawkeye pierce #margaret houlihan #otp: thank you hank thank you darlene #me banging pots and pans in the MASH tag: DID YOU KNOW HAWKEYE IS SO SMITTEN WITH MARGARET #this turned out so much sweeter than expected??#this was gonna be just comedy #but then the dialogue started writing itself and well #tenderness #holding of hands #kisses #ty for the prompt Sarah I hope you like this!

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luxmaeastra · 10 months

Note

"What is all this?"

"Orsus helped me. But someone is messing with her bonds. Probably since Abraxos or before. I don't know, I can't find the pattern."

Dante looked over them and back to his brother.

"Why are you doing this?"

Leesan glared at him.

"Do you want me to repeat it again?"

Dante sighed and fell into a seat and looked the map over.

"Does she know?"

"I had to get her blood and she accompanied me to Orsus. But she - I haven't seen her since then."

"You shouldn't be doing this for her."

Leesan growled spinning the papers to Dante.

"Then you do it. You're the one who has been with her the last two years."

Dante's jaw clenched as he walked away.

"How long Lee? How long have you been in love with her?"

Leesan stilled and glanced back at him. His dark eyes gutted before that mask came up.

"She doesn't feel the same way Dante. So what does it matter?"

Dante moved, slamming the door closed to the war room. He glared down at his brother.

"I care. Tell me. How long?"

Leesan broke eye contact fidgeting. He looked back to the table, his jaw clenched.

"Maybe a year before Abraxos? I -"

"Why didn't you tell her? And how did you even meet her before I did?"

He wasn't sure why he was asking this. Leesan glared back at him.

"Why? Because she's kind and will give anyone a shot. Because she is intelligent and beautiful and sees the best in everyone. I can't - just being around her makes me happy. I can't - I refuse to loose that. I'm just thrilled she hasn't iced me out. She has every right to with how I've been acting -"

"Like a good friend?"

Leesan shouldered past him and wrenched the door.

"Just fix this Dante. She deserves that much."

------

Dante stared at the work, at the notes Leesan had made. 10 years, did he know anything when he'd been 18? Would he have even known what the feeling was?

He scrubbed at his face, standing. He carefully took the papers and winnowed to Day.

"Viren."

Viren glanced up from the book he'd been reading.

"Estelle isn't the mood for visitors."

"I - that isn't why I'm here. There's something happening with her bonds. I - someone is messing with them. Leesan uncovered them."

He spread the papers carefully out for Viren to inspect. He glanced up at Dante, his eyes softening.

"Thank you for this. We'll figure this out. Was there anything else?"

"I - I'm stepping back. I'll tell Estelle myself if you wish. But I can't -"

"Why? Too hard to work around this issue?"

Dante swallowed, he looked at the papers.

"Leesan has been in love with her for the last 10 years Viren."

He looked up at Viren's sharp inhale. He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

"She doesn't feel the same way. But I don't think she'd ever given him the chance. He's never tried to be anything else to her...the way he talked about her to me...I can't - I refuse to pursue someone that makes my brother so unhappy. I'm sorry."

Viren sighed, leaning back in his chair. His leg crossed over his knee. He looked restless as he looked from the papers to Dante.

"You're going to be hurting them both doing this you know that right?"

"Maybe, I care about Estelle but there's only so many hoops I'm willing to jump through."

"And Leesan will jump through more?"

Dante rose an eyebrow lowering his hand.

"Do you actually need him to?"

Viren sighed and stood. He held his hand out to him.

"Thank you Dante, for all of this. I sincerely hope you find the person you're looking for."

Sarai waited for the boy to leave, stepping forward from the room off of the one in which Viren had been sitting. Her eyes lingered upon the papers on the table, her fingers trailed along the edge before she stopped.

They had been apprehensive about the boy, as much as she had hoped that Estelle had finally found the one, she had seen the cracks in the recent months. She had hoped it was just a rough patch, that things would work itself out.

It seemed she was wrong.

"Are you telling her, or am I?" She questioned as she looked up to meet his eyes. "You know she'll shut down again and throw herself back into her duties, especially if she knows she's been targeted for reasons she doesn't know."

The fear she felt for her children in that moment, if one was already targeted...what of the rest.

#Muse | Sarai

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apocalypsewriters · 1 year

Text

Not My Magical Destiny part 3

Intro <<previous (part 2) next (part 4)>>

Something happens with Gabriel and he turns to the one person that he feels can help him: Kodi. The bakery is barely fixed and much the same could be said for Kodi.

The grandfather clock had just ticked beyond half past four when there was a knock at the glass door to the bakery. I nearly jumped out of my skin, sending flour skidding across the counter.

One hand pressed to the glass, Gabriel looked at me pleadingly. I wiped my hands on my apron, the one he had embroidered with my name and a phoenix so long ago. Abandoning the puff pastry mid-roll, I walked over to the door. The lock needed replacing, especially after the fight; it had been finicky before but now I had to wrestle it open without it stealing my keys. The owner of the bakery insisted on keeping it since the mechanism still worked in a pinch and they were hard up on funds after renovating the torn-up booths. Gabe’s throat bobbed as he stepped back from the door. His hair was a bird’s nest, shedding whenever he moved quickly. Whatever poise I had seen when he walked into the bakery two and a half weeks ago had vanished. He looked defeated in a way I hadn’t seen in ages. I spread my arms wide, twitching my fingers towards myself in invitation. He barrelled into my embrace. I stumbled back.

Softly, quietly, I walked him into the office where there was a beanbag. I guided him onto it and covered him with a fluffy blanket patterned with macarons. I kissed the crown of his head, which still had far too much regrowth.

I whispered, “I’ll be back. I just need to get the quiches into the oven.”

He was too shattered to nod back.

As I rhythmically folded and rolled out the dough, I could barely focus. I hadn’t seen Gabe this distraught since before he had started testosterone. We had spent many nights curled up together or apart, depending on what we could stand. Sometimes he was shaking from the wrongness that permeated his existence in those moments. I’d have to hold down his wrists in a hug so tight I took away his breath. Those days were the hardest – when I had to go home knowing he’d come to school the next day with clumps of hair missing and eyes red from crying and lack of sleep. It hurt me almost as much as it hurt him.

Of course, he had returned the favor. He had wiped my tears too, had taken up the scissors for me when I finished with his hair. I remember the relief on his face, weight dropping from his shoulders just as it did from his head. That was one of my favorite afternoons with him; both of us sought our joy and helped each other achieve it.

I would do anything for his happiness.

Finally, fumbling only once at the thought of him crying in the office, I put the pastries in the oven. I scrubbed my hands of flour but it never relinquished itself from under my nails. I hung my apron on its nail so I wouldn’t cover him with more flour. It swung limply next to the mural Gabe painted when I started the job.

He hadn’t moved when I shuffled back into the office. His gaze bore into the wall, staring at nothing through the chibi cupcake calendar. I yearned for a smile from him, wide and true and pulling at the dimple he earned from knocking his head on our treehouse. I flopped down next to him, sending him upward and knocking the blanket to the ground. He made no effort to grab it. I picked it up and tucked it around us. I threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into another hug.

Lips pressed into his hair, I ordered quietly, “Tell me what happened.”

Tears dripped onto my collarbone. A sob tore from his throat. He wrapped his arms around me, tight as a limpet, and cried. His breathing was unsteady with gasps wracking his shoulders. It took a lot for him to cry this much. I was ready to kill anyone who did this to him, otherworldly or not. I rubbed circles into his back and tried to keep my breathing as metronomic as I could to give him something grounding, to eventually aim for.

The quiches were almost halfway done by the time he had calmed down enough to get out a few words.

“It was Idle,” he croaked.

“Hm?” I asked, squeezing his arms once gently.

He sat back so I could see his face. “Or, Patience.” His expression contorted in pain again. “She was posing as Patience to sabotage my return as Pride.”

“Oh,” I said. She was dead meat. “What did she do?”

“Last night she attacked Envy and made a move for me. But she and her companions always underestimate the others. As soon as she turned her back on Envy, Envy sunk a knife into her back,” he said, monotone. “She retreated and I ran off after that.”

I wiped a tear from his cheek. Quietly, I asked, “And then what?”

“I walked around for a bit.”

“You didn’t go home?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t told anyone but you.”

“Did you at least find somewhere to rest?”

Again, he shook his head. “Couldn’t.”

I gathered him into my arms again, more for my sake than his. I’d never found a greater peace than when I was with him. Gabe had expressed the same to me more times than I could count. So, I let him bask in the feeling before I tugged at his composure with more questions.

“When you say you haven’t told anyone else,” I began, “are you talking about what Patience did?”

He shook his head.

“You haven’t told anyone about anything? Not the prophecy, not the other world, nothing?”

Gabe nodded and buried his face further into my chest. I didn’t need to see it to know the shame tracing his features.

“Why haven’t you told anyone else?” I questioned, forcefully meeting our gazes. “You were asked not to, but that’s never enough for you. So, why?

Gabriel sighed. He sounded as old as Envy seemed. “It’s dangerous,” he began, “for people outside our circles to know. People don’t hide knowledge well, and most people can’t defend themselves against the forces that seek to keep or disrupt the balance by any means necessary.”

“Okay,” I said, reassuring him even as the floor beneath me dipped.

He took another shaky breath; it smelled like his mother’s dal, which I knew she hadn’t made in two days. He continued, “I just couldn’t keep it from you. Like I said the first time, we tell each other everything. You’re just so strong, I knew you could handle it. Can handle it.”

When he paused the wheels in both our heads were turning. In very different directions I was sure. I kept my mouth shut.

Eyes sparking weakly, he said, “What if you come with us? You’d be under our protection so I wouldn’t lose you, and you’d be safe. At least I hope. Envy is going to take a while to recover.” His eyes darted around the room and his grip tightened on my hands where they had fallen into our laps. “And it’s my fault. I trusted Idle, Patience, let her tag along with us. She had so many opportunities to hurt us, it’s a wonder she didn’t do it sooner.”

Gently wiggling my hands, I extricated them from his. I placed them on top of his palms, feeling their clammy warmth, trying desperately to soothe his racing thoughts. My mind was reeling from what I had learned. Standing, I said, “You’re not ready to leave yet. You can keep me company until the bakery opens, but then you have to go. I love you and I love having you around me, but I might get in trouble for letting you loiter while customers around. Besides, I’m sure Envy will be worrying, so you’ll need to find her.”

“Thank you,” Gabe said into his knees, which he had gathered to his chest during my proposal.

He ended up dragging the beanbag into the entrance of the pantry so I could dance around him now and again when I went to grab ingredients. We made some idle conversation, but the weight of his breakdown sat heavy with both of us. Every step I took was weighed down by what was to come, for Gabe or for me.

<<previous (part 2) next (part 4)>>

#writeblr #writing #my writing #short story #nmmd #not my magical destiny #and so it continues >:)#more than halfway!!

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 2 years

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Fragile Lines [Chapter One] Bad Blood [Ignacio “Nacho” Varga]

A/n: As I’ve been hinting around to for some time, here is the first chapter of my new story for the Better Call Saul fandom. One big thing to remember when going into this story is that the plot will be canon divergent; it does somewhat follow the plot, but along the journey it changes. Please enjoy.

Summary: Ariana is a down-to-earth ER doctor who lives a mildly stress-free life in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Or so she thinks. As the younger sister of Chuck and Jimmy McGill; two troublesome attorneys, she is always being pulled into their everyday drama, especially when it involves the other.

Unbeknownst to her, she is soon dragged into a cluster of absurdity following a suggestion she gives to Jimmy and puts herself in the sights of Nacho Varga. Her simple life is about to take a turn for the worse and lines are about to be broken.

Warning(s): mentions death and drugs, mild blood, family drama, and lies.

Breathe... Breathe...

Ria stared at her teary blue eyes in the mirror as she scrubbed at the blood stains on her coat. She knew there was no point in it; blood was hard to remove from light-colored clothes, but still, she tried. Her mind was a labyrinth. She knew as an ER Physician things would be hard. Hell, she had five years of residency to change her mind, but day after day she came back. It hurt every time something terrible happened. And today was no different.

A nineteen-year-old patient of hers passed on her. He was barely an adult. Rushed into the ER with multiple gunshot wounds to the right upper and right lower abdominal quadrants, he bled out on her table. She tried her best to resuscitate him but to no avail. His life was in her hands, and she failed him. Ria hid in the bathroom between patients and cried her eyes out. She couldn't help it; she was human. And the worst part wasn't even over. The patient's closest family had to be notified; no one even knew their son or brother was dead. An anonymous caller dialed 911, leaving him there on Central Avenue near the Crossroads Motel, a place mostly populated by junkies. She wasn't certain, but she assumed the young man had crossed the wrong person.

It was too common in Albuquerque for someone to wind up dead due to drugs or a deal gone wrong. And this poor soul Ria failed to save was the city's most recent victim, as far as she knew.

Staring down into the sink, she watched the water swirl down the drain along with the blood from the washcloth she had been using; her hand rested on the sink, fingers bouncing to the keys of 'Clair De Lune', an action she often did to soothe herself. No one even told her that she was walking around with red on her collar until the triage nurse noticed and urged her to clean up. The nineteen-year-old's death was fresh on her mind; it occurred only an hour ago, but it was something Ria could not yet let go of. She turned off the sink and removed her coat, clipping her nametag onto the front of her black scrubs before she folded the fabric, tossing it over her arm. The stain wasn't coming out and she seriously needed to return to her work. Fixing her disheveled appearance in the mirror; her vibrant coral lipstick had been smudged a bit in the corner, she quickly washed her hands and slipped out into the hallway.

"Ariana?!" She heard a familiar voice shout. The tirage nurse, a woman in her mid-twenties named Karina, rushed over to her. "Two patients were just brought in. Both were in a skateboarding accident and broke each of their legs."

Ria narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

"Both of them?"

Karina gave her a knowing look and hummed.

"I know right? But your brother Jimmy brought them in and he is claiming the same thing occurred."

Ria sighed in annoyance. She felt a headache coming on.

"Have Montoya check the skateboarders. I'll talk to Jimmy."

Remembering her soiled coat, she removed it from her arm and offered it to Karina, asking her to toss it into the laundry. Having to wear one when speaking to immediate family members, she forgot to remove it when the last patient was brought in. With a quiet thank you, she sauntered toward the waiting room.

This would probably be looked down on as unprofessional, but she needed to know what happened; Jimmy was keeping something from them, and she just knew it. Ria walked into the busy waiting area and found her brother sitting to himself with a clipboard in his hand. His thin brown hair was unkempt and his dark suit pants were stained brown at the knees.

"Good morning, Jimmy," She announced as she stood in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest. "I already know the answer, but what do I owe the pleasure."

"I didn't know you were working today," her older brother deflected. His blue eyes looked her over, noticing the red and puffy bags beneath her eyes. "The pollen count must be high. You'd better take some Benadryl."

Ria snorted. Her brother was damn good at avoiding questions, especially when she was the one asking them. Reaching down, she snatched the clipboard from his hand and gave it a look over.

"Laurentius and Calvin Lindholm; skateboarding accident, or so I was told."

"Frick and Frack; not as good as they thought apparently," Jimmy retorted.

Ria narrowed her eyes and tossed him back the clipboard.

"And you're their lawyer now? Just seems a little... planned to me."

Jimmy was known for his elaborate schemes. He had been conning people since he was a kid and though Ria wanted to believe that becoming a lawyer had changed him, this visit proved otherwise.

"Oh come on!" Jimmy exclaimed in annoyance. "I didn't plan this. Those two are just idiots. And besides, I wouldn't be paying their medical bills if this were a scam."

He had a point.

"I'm only saying it sounds planned because of the likelihood of their injuries," Ria stated.

She hated pointing fingers at him, but this entire mess had Jimmy's name written all over it. Though perhaps she was being hard on him because of his past. Wasn't it her job to support him? Love him no matter how terrible he used to be?

"What happened to them, Frick and Frack? The truth please."

"They were in a skateboarding accident, Aria. Lawyer confidentiality, remember?" Jimmy pointed out.

She reckoned there was no point in asking him; he was dead set on not telling her the truth. This was no more than a waste of time.

"I have to return to my job... but I want to know that you're OK. Promise me."

"I am. I'm fine," Jimmy claimed.

The strange, frightened look in his blue eyes made Ria uncertain, but she had no option but to believe him. Saying her goodbyes, she turned to walk away, but Jimmy called out her name, immediately stopping her. She looked at him over her shoulder and raised a brow in question.

"Can you visit Chuck later? He asked about you."

"My shift doesn't end until late," Ria retorted.

It wasn't a complete lie; she was in for a 12-hour shift today and Chuck would be in bed before she got off. But the main reason she didn't want to visit him was because of their strained relationship. Neither of them saw eye to eye when it came to Jimmy and Ria could not stand to argue with him regarding the middle sibling; he always started on her every time Jimmy was involved with something that closely resembled a scam.

"See, that works out. Go see him in the morning. You can pick up some ice and that newspaper he likes so much; you know the one," Jimmy stated.

Ria took an uneasy breath.

"He asked about me?"

"Yeah," Jimmy retorted with a shake of his head. "All the time."

Despite this information, she wasn't certain about going, but if it helped her relationship with her brother even a little then she was more than eager to visit him. It felt nice to know that Chuck had asked about her on more than one occasion.

"I'll go tomorrow afternoon before work."

Jimmy grinned.

"Have fun."

She should have said no.

Parking near the curb outside Chuck's house on San Cristobal Road, Ria got out of her Honda Civic and sauntered over to the mailbox. She took her cell phone from her back pocket and put it inside, remembering her brother's strict rules, no electricity, and no batteries. He claimed to suffer from electromagnetic hypersensitivity (EHS), an adverse physical reaction to electrical devices that sent him into a pained fit, often causing him to faint; one of the reasons she moved from Cicero to Albuquerque a year ago; to help care for him. Once she was done, she went back to her car and retrieved the items that her brother wanted; a 5-pound bag of ice and 'the Financial Times', a newspaper that focused on business and economic current affairs. Taking them to the front door, she grounded herself by touching a metal knob attached to the banister outside, knocking shortly after.

On the 3rd knock, she saw a shadow pass the peephole.

"Ariana?" Came Chuck's muffled voice. He almost sounded surprised to see her. "Did you ground yourself?"

"Like always. I have your newspaper and some ice," Ria retorted.

She raised the two items to emphasize her point and then waited for her older brother to open the door. As he did, backing up the stairs a bit as she walked in, Ria noticed the space blanket over his head and shoulders and frowned.

"Are you OK?"

Did he have an attack?

Chuck nodded, making her feel a little better.

"Jimmy crashed here drunk last night and forgot to ground himself."

She wasn't aware that he came by. Taking the ice into the kitchen, she tore a hole into the bag and dumped it into the cooler, having to arrange a few of the contents inside; bacon and a few bottles of water. As she stood, Ria took a quick look around and noticed that nothing much had changed since the last time she had visited Chuck. His house was an accident waiting to happen; lanterns were lying about, sitting on stacks of newspapers that he was too scared to take outside and put in the recycle bin. She frowned and turned to her brother.

"Was Jimmy OK? I just saw him yesterday and he seemed... dazed."

"Did you see him at the medical center?" Chuck asked, standing next to the counter. "Because he was there. He paid a bill for two young men who ridiculously happened to break both their legs in the same skateboard accident and that set him back in his funds."

So, he knew already. Ria took an uneasy breath. She wasn't aware that Jimmy had run out of funds, however. It seemed strange that he'd even tell Chuck about this issue. Regardless, he once again dragged her into another one of their squabbles.

"I talked to him when he brought them in."

"And?" Chuck asked.

He wasn't going to let this go it seemed.

"And I'm sure he told you the same thing he told me when I asked if it was a scam," Ria answered.

"You believed him, didn't you?" He asked with an astonished laugh. "Don't you see that he's conning for money again."

She was not in the mood for this.

"I didn't come over here to talk about Jimmy," Ria mentioned. "I came to see you."

"It's been two months since you've visited, Ariana. What reason did you come here? Did Jimmy ask you to?" Her brother asked, staring at her in pity.

Bouncing her fingers against her leg to the keys of 'Clair De Lune', she tried to fight back her tears. This was an ignorant idea, coming to see him. She honestly thought he would be happy to see her; all the excitement she had been feeling was gone, replaced with disappointment.

"I came here because you are my brother and I worry about you," Ria answered.

It wasn't a complete lie. Yes, Jimmy asked her to, but he also told her that Chuck wanted to see her too.

"Did you even ask about me during those two months?"

Chuck snorted in disbelief and shook his head. The space blanket crinkled in protest.

"Another fabricated lie from Jimmy. Don't you see that he hasn't changed? He does this all the time; pits you against me for some reason."

"You do that. You pit me against you," Ria argued as he pointed her finger at him. She was irate at this point. "Every time I come here all we do is argue about Jimmy. It's never 'how are you' or 'what have you been up to'. I've had enough of this, Chuck. You are both my brothers; I love each of you equally, but I am not going to let you slander him as you do."

This was an endless circle. Nothing ever changed. Ria didn't understand why there was so much bad blood between him and Jimmy, but the pointless fighting needed to stop. She just wanted them to get along; the three of them were supposed to be siblings.

"You should have never come here," Chuck uttered. "You should have stayed in Cicero; it was a mistake for you to unroot your life just for Jimmy."

Is that what he thought? Ria shook her head in disbelief.

"I moved here for you." She paused to angrily motion around. "And this... mess. Because you're sick."

"You moved here because Jimmy begged you to. And you gave up so much Ariana. Your career, your house, and Benjamin. I don't want you to give up more for him," Chuck mentioned.

He crossed a line. How could he blame everything on Jimmy? And why Benjamin? Why did he have to throw him in her face? Tears poured down her face as she stood there, staring at him in anger.

"You were right. It was a mistake to come here."

Tossing the newspaper onto the counter, Ria stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. As she sauntered over to the mailbox to collect her phone she considered kicking it over in a fit of rage but knew better than to steep so low. By the time she got into her car, she was wracked with sobs. Chuck was wrong. It wasn't Jimmy who ruined her two-year relationship with Benjamin, it was her. She didn't want to get married so soon; she wasn't ready to settle down just yet. And then Chuck got sick. It may have been Jimmy who asked her to move, but in the end, she decided to leave.

He didn't understand. He couldn't.

Her mother and father were dead. She lived 18 hours from her brothers. Ria didn't want to lose them either, especially considering how rare and unpredictable Chuck's condition was, so she moved. Yes, she tried to explain this to Benjamin but he didn't understand. He couldn't leave his life in Cicero for her. Perhaps she was being a brat; perhaps she should have never left. Often she considered calling Benjamin and asking to come home, but as far as she was concerned, that chapter in her life was over; he probably didn't think of her anymore. She tore it out and tossed it in the trash. And for what? A broken family with no plans to change.

"I'm a fucking mess," Ria uttered with a pained laugh.

She opened her phone and glanced at the time. Her drama would have to wait; it was time for work. As she drove toward Lovelace, she pondered calling her ex but decided against it. At least for now.

Not when I'm at my lowest.

#better call saul fandom #nacho varga #better call saul fanfiction #nacho varga x oc

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davidboles · 1 year

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How I Blew Out My Anus By Lifting, Bro

“Do you even lift, bro?” Oh, sure. We’ve all heard that phrase somewhere, sometime, in our lives before, and the implication is always that you are weak because you don’t push, and pull heavy things; and while I certainly agree the human body needs, and yearns for, carrying heavy weight in exercise, we also need to be careful not to hurt ourselves too much in that goal. “Lifting heavy” is not always the answer to a query from a gym Bro.

Ask me. I should know!

Yes, I injured myself by getting too fancy and too hubristic, and the consequences have been three weeks of sitz baths and several trips to the dermatologist to get righted what I wronged!

It all started when I saw a new sort of Kettlebell exercise that involved deep squats. Not just regular squats, but what some may call “Asian Squats” where you go all the way down to the ground where your bum is almost touching the ground. Yeah, just typing that out makes me realize how stupid I was to even attempt the idea! Oh, if we could only go back in time and remediate our immediate emergencies!

Anyway, I decided to put a 40lb. Kettlebell in each hand and do my deep-to-the-floor squats.

I did about 10 of those squats until I “felt” something “down there” that didn’t feel right. I stopped what I was doing. I decided I felt okay, and I continued with my presses and snatches — but no more squatting for the day.

I felt fine the rest of the day.

However, the next day, in the shower, while I was washing all my private parts — and if you are not washing your anus and testicles, and the bottom of your feet every time you shower, you’re not doing it right, you must always gently scrub and check for things that don’t belong or feel out of place — and I was lucky in that as I was washing my delicate bits I felt something really out of place anally and out of the ordinary rectally.

There was a big bump around the rim of my anus. I first thought it was a hemorrhoid, and I tried to just push it back in like we sometimes want to do — but this time was different; this thing didn’t want to go in, and when I pressed it inside anyway, it popped back out! It was then that I realized something else was going on here.

As a luckily married man of 35 years, I asked my beloved wife to take a look at what I’d obviously done wrong, and she said there was a “loopy finger” sticking out around my anal ring. It just so happened to block my evacuation hole, so I knew I needed to somehow get this fixed.

I checked online. Sitz bath with epsom salts for five to seven days would help shrink the problem. I did all that. No change. In fact, it felt like the problem was getting bigger. Not, I learned, was it growing as big as a baseball, or a tennis ball — yes, those sorts of anal hematomas can get that large — but the number one cause of these sorts of injuries, I discovered the hard way, is lifting weight that is too heavy. I was not just guilty of that, but of being completely stupid in my deeeeeep squatting. All of that together, I believe, became the straw that broke the anal ring’s back — because I’d successfully done “regular” Kettlebell squats for years with no ill effect.

I visited my dermatologist to see if he could help. The internet told me there was a 50/50 chance a dermatologist would help. If not, I had to go to a proctologist, and that wait would be three months or longer. I regularly see my dermatologist for skin cancer checkups, so I knew I could ask for help from him faster than I could make an appointment with another doctor.

My dermatologist first tried to drain it. No go. The next week he injected it with something. No change. The third week he told me to go see a proctologist, and I pretty much begged him to just “cut it off” like he said he’d originally do if the injections didn’t work. He reluctantly agreed; and so there was cutting, and blood, and cauterizing, and blood, and so far, I feel better, the problem appears to be gone, and I’m actually considering when I’ll be able to lift a Kettlebell again because, for the past month or so, I’ve only been doing gentle Yoga stretching.

Be careful out there — and especially under there, too!

Kettlebells are heavy! Don’t be cute! Don’t challenge yourself to something you’ve never tried before, and that no other sane person has ever before tried. Your body belongs to you, and that’s why you must not only be your own gatekeeper, you must also exercise kind dominion over the entirety of you, or else you’ll end up pantsless, bloody, and burned on a dermatologist’s examination table begging for the favor of relief.

#kettlebell #squat #weight

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melodylnoelle · 2 years

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Just This Once

For @paradoxical-scribbler‘s Fictober Writing Challenge

Fandom: None Characters: OCs Madison and Aaron Challenge Day Number: 2 Prompt: “Is that supposed to be a costume?” Warnings/Notes: Mention of drinking blood, otherwise... none? I think? Summary: Two friends argue about going to the bar together for Halloween Word Count: 938 Author’s Notes: I decided to create a set of original characters for this one because it was basically writing itself (sorry it’s not a fic, I hope that’s ok). Please enjoy :) Masterlist

Madison was hard at work on typing the information from her chart into the computer. The system had been down for most of the day, and while she didn’t mind typing her own notes in after the fact, she really wished the other doctors had been more considerate to make their handwriting more legible.

Fighting the urge to grab a magnifying glass, she studied Dr. Carson’s notes on his patient. She could have just had him do this himself, but he had kids to take trick-or-treating and would have felt bad holding him over. She, on the other hand, had things that she was avoiding doing, and the overtime was nice.

The lights dimmed in her office. She hadn’t realized it had been so long since she moved. Damned motion-activated lights. She figured she would get to fixing them in a second, she just needed to finish this last line of notes before-

“Is that supposed to be a costume?”

The unexpected voice in the dark made her jump. She flew a hand over her heart, willing it to slow as she took a deep breath.

Had the voice not been so familiar, her whole soul would have flown out of her chest, not just her heart.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she said as she turned in her chair to look at him.

He flashed his teeth in a smile. “I can see that. Thought the lights being off would have broken you out of your trance, but I guess not.”

She noticed then that his hand was still hovered over the light switch. He turned them back on, bringing the room back to life.

She took another deep breath. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Well what do you think I’m doing here, Mads?”

“Hm… getting blood from the donor bin?”

He feigned shock, putting his hand to his heart for dramatic effect. “What, me? I would never!”

She rolled her eyes, turning her back to him and studying the patient chart again.

“No, as usual, I am here to drag your sorry ass away from this night for our favorite time of year.”

“Your favorite time of year,” she corrected, holding a finger up without looking at him. “This is not my favorite time of year.”

“Oh, come on.” He strode forward and took the folder from her, holding it above her head when she tried to reach for it.

“Aaron, please-“

“Nuh-uh. What happened to the Mads that used to decorate her house, her yard, throw parties, dress in something better than scrubs-“

“Still not a costume.”

“Yea, whatever.”

“You know what happened to the ‘Mads that used to love Halloween’?” she asked, putting air quotes up around the words. “I started seeing the dead. And the veil is thin on Halloween. So you know what that means? There are more dead to be seen on Halloween. And it stresses me out.”

He looked less amused, lifting an eyebrow at her. “So you are choosing to spend the night in a building where people die all the time?”

“No, I am working, and then I am going to shut myself in my room.” She took the opportunity to steal the file back and return to her work.

“Like the dead can’t just walk into your room.”

“Not if I light a bunch of banishing candles and line it with salt, they can’t!”

“If you put salt everywhere, I also can’t hang out with you there, you know.”

“Keep this up and I will be tempted to line it with garlic, too.”

“Oh, you know that’s a myth.”

“Silver, then.”

“Ouch, that hurts.” He moved to sit in the chair next to hers, putting a hand on her arm. “Look. I’m just worried about you. I know that it’s stressful, but I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life locking away in your room on a bad day. Or at least not alone.” He took a deep breath. “Let me stay with you.”

“No, that’s not fair to you. You love that… what bar that does the Halloween party?”

“O’Conner’s.”

“Yea, that. Either way, you love that party.”

“But you’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to be alone.” He let her consider that a moment before continuing. “If you really don’t want to let me be alone, then come with me. Just this once. And if it goes south, we’ll leave, and then we’ll spend the rest of the Halloweens for the rest of time at your house, and I will never bother you again. Promise.” He held out his pinky finger.

She raised an eyebrow. “Pinky promise?”

He smiled. “It’s the oldest, most sacred promise!”

She couldn’t help but smile back at her oldest friend. She rolled her eyes, returning the pinky promise.

“Yay, I’m so excited.” He slapped his hands on his knees, standing. “C’mon, we gotta go get you a costume.”

She wrinkled her nose, but took his hand and stood. “Just please don’t make it like the last one that you picked for me, okay?”

“Oh, come on, you looked like a bad bitch.”

“I looked like A desperate bitch, actually.”

“Lies, lies. Though, who knows, it might catch someone’s eye. I’m sure that would distract you from the dead.”

“Ha, ha.” She let Aaron hook his arm around hers as they walked out of the hospital’s office.

“Speaking of, think there will be any cute guys at this bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll find someone for you to sink your teeth into.”

“Oh, that’s not what I wanted and you know it… Mostly.”

#fictober writing challenge #writing #writerblr #these guys were fun to write #might make a book about them who knows

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

how about when they first noticed ezra was a nervous and anxious baby ?

Seperation

prompt: the moment when h and yn decide that Ezra needs to see a therapist.

warnings: angst

if you like the fic - please reblog, like, comment, or come talk to me in my inbox!

I write for free so if you enjoy my fics please consider donating to support my writing on my kofi.

enjoy 😊

—

It’s late at night, like 3 in the morning, and Harry was down in Atlanta for three games with the Braves.

Easton and Cash had long adjusted to their father being away for short spurts of time - doesn’t mean they don’t miss him but they know he’ll come back to them.

Ezra was another story.

YN felt dread anytime he went away for a game because her youngest got so anxious and had trouble sleeping.

He was usually okay during the day (Harry was gone for practice and obligations during most mornings and afternoons).

It was at night time.

She really didn’t want to call and bother her husband because he had just played a game that went into three innings of overtime and had gotten a gnarly bruise on his thigh from a ball hitting him as he batted.

When they’d FaceTimed after the game, about eight, he had been so exhausted in his hotel room that his eyes were nearly closing as he spoke to her.

Now at three, three in the morning, Ezra still hasn’t went to bed because of how fussy and tearful he was - babbling about his father.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” He was whining into his mother’s neck, his hot tears rolling down his cheeks and onto her skin.

“Ezzie, baby. We have to calm down. Mama’s here and daddy is okay, he’s just working,” She murmured to him for the hundredth time that night.

YN was sat in the den with him because she didn’t want him waking up his brothers or his little sister who just begun to sleep through the night for the most part.

At one point, she did stir for a night feeding, and as YN sat on her bed - Briar latched sleepily, Ezra was nestled tightly into her other side.

When it hit three-thirty, she began to feel herself get frustrated because she couldn’t fix the situation - no matter what she did.

She knew once tears began rolling down her own cheeks that she had to call Harry.

It was never that she was worried he would be mad that she called, she just felt guilty because he had worked so hard already that day.

YN reaches for her phone, taking a deep inhale before pressing his contact for facetime.

It rings three times before it’s picked up, completely dark in his room, and he rasps out drowsily, “Wha’s going on, mama? Y’alright? The babies alright?”

“I-I can’t get him to settle,” YN takes a deep breath, the sleep deprivation making her want to just break down and sob.

“Daddy? Daddy, daddy, daddy,” Ezra just chants, eyes wide on the screen, searching for his father to just appear but all he sees is darkness.

That causes him to just start bawling his eyes out when he can’t will his father onto the phone like he wants.

“Whoa, Ezzie. Sweet boy, c’mon. Y’gotta breathe s’daddy can understand you,” Harry coos, stirring to turn on the light and illuminate his pillow-creased face.

“Daddy!” His voice is shrill, high-pitched and it makes YN’s ears ring.

“Ezra Duke,” Harry says a little more firmly, “Daddy can’t understand you when you scream, okay?”

The little boy sniffles and tries to catch his breath, leaning into where YN is rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Miss you,” His son whimpers sadly, bringing his voice down a notch, “Come home, please.”

“I am flying’ home tomorrow, bab. Daddy will be home around noon but you have to be good for mama,” He says, voice still smooth and calm.

“Now!” Ezra screams in a way he usually never does and then continues, “Now! Now daddy! Now!”

Both parents are taking aback, Harry with wide eyes and parted lips as he watching his son through his phone and YN just squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling out of her mouth.

“Mama, breathe,” Harry directs towards her, can tell how overwhelmed she is getting from all the chaos of his screaming.

“Daddy, daddy,” Ezra blubbers, green eyes angry and anxious at the same time, “Please, home!”

YN hears noise from behind her, to see her eight year old padding into the room with his unruly curls poking every which way.

“Mama, is Ezzie okay?” Easton wonders, knuckling his eyes sleepily and then Cash follows right behind him in his dinosaur pajamas.

“Fuck, he woke up the boys,” YN informs Harry tearfully, “I just…I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything to make him feel better.”

The older boys peek into the screen to smile at their dad and Harry gives them a tense smile, “Hi boys, I know Ez is being loud but can y’two be good f’your mama and go back to bed?”

They agree, giving their upset brother a kiss and then their mom before talking quietly to each other as they walk up the stairs.

“Daddy? Home, please! Hold me!” Ezra wails, clinging to his mother’s neck tightly enough to hurt as he tantrums.

“This is the worst it’s ever been, he’s normally stopped before I’ve had to call you,” YN groans, rocking him swiftly against her for lack of a better idea.

“Wait…” Harry sits up, scrubbing a hand over his puffy face, “Has this been happening’ every time m’away?”

“It just started two to three months ago but he’s always been able to be calmed down within an hour or so,” YN replies, shushing Ezra as he babbles over and over again daddy, daddy, daddy.

Harry’s jaw tightens and his frown settles into a deep crease, “Well why a’ve you not told me that m’baby has been cryin’ for me when I’m gone? Do y’not think that’s important?”

YN recognizes his irritation and is running on less than five hours of sleep over two days and may he’s it back with an even sharper tone.

“We can’t change that you’re gone. I’m trying to handle it, Harry.”

“Y’not doin’ a bloody good job at it!” Harry bites back in frustration, heart pounding in desperation as he hears his son cry for him.

“Daddy, daddy, come on.”

Then YN looks at him with watering, hurt eyes, “I’m doing my best. You’re not here, I can’t make you appear. I’m trying to calm him down without having to wake you up.”

And Harry shouldn’t but he’s angry and misses his babies - all of them but especially the one who needs him the most right now.

“Y’dont think I deserve to know tha’ Ezra’s been acting like this?” Harry snaps before adding, “In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.”

And wow, those words hit her like a ton of bricks. It was instilling all the insecurities that she had bubbling in her chest.

In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.

Harry automatically knows that he spoke before he thought and he let his stressed out mind say untrue hurtful things.

He part his lips about to speak before YN cuts him off.

“If you can do it so much better than me, fucking good you. Then come home and fix this because I give up,” YN laughs without humor, finger finding the red button to hang out and disconnecting.

Harry tried calling back over and over and over but YN just hangs her head, sniffling, as she watches her tired, anxious little son finally drift off to sleep.

At some point, her phone stops ringing when he’s given up and it doesn’t ring again until for another thirty minutes.

She knew he was going to keep calling until she picked up - had been that way since they first started dating.

By now, Ezra was asleep in his room and YN was sat against their headboard - having tossed the tear soaked shirt she had on off and was feeding Briar once more.

The millionth facetime request comes through and finally she swipes to answer, he’s furious right as they connect, “D’you have any idea how worried I am? Y’cant ju-“

He stops himself when he sees his baby girl pop her head from her mother’s breast with puffy lips and look at the screen, “Dadadadada.”

“Oh, hi lil’ mama,” Harry changes his tone completely, face softening - “Did I interrupt y’eatin’? S’mama being so nice and feeding you?”

Briar just smiles with a gapped baby tooth smile, a dimple pushing into her left cheek as she does so.

“Guess I’m good for one thing, right? A fucking milk-maker,” YN scoffs at her husband’s opposite tone as she guides Briar gently back down to finish her meal.

Harry frowns, “Y’know tha’s not anything near the truth and tha’ I think you’re the best mama to our babies. M’just upset.”

“You told me my best wasn’t good enough, I can’t believe you would say something like tha’ to me,” YN begins to sniffle again.

“Sweetheart, m’sorry. I ju-“

“What did you call for, Harry? It’s nearly four-thirty in the morning and I haven’t slept for nearly two days now. I want to feed her and go to sleep,” YN’s voice is disconnected and exhausted.

“To talk, I didn’t say how I was feeling correctly-“

“When you come home tomorrow you can fix everything and I’ll let you because I’m not doing a good enough job,” His wife cuts him off again.

Harry starts to feel a ball of worry form in his throat as he hears how unemotional and distance his wife sounds with him.

He had totally said the wrong things as his wife was just trying to do her best at balancing four babies while he was away.

“Please, let me apologize-“

“I would like to go to sleep. Please don’t call back,” YN responds before ending the phone call and leaving the screen dark.

They rarely ever fought. Especially like this.

He’s man enough to admit that he cries after he tries calling back (even though she said not to) and it went straight to voicemail.

He tries facetiming in the morning, at around nine right before if flight takes off - surprised when it actually was picked up.

Harry only sees YN for a brief moment before she’s propping up the camera on the kitchen table so that Easton and Cash are in view eating pancakes and Briar is in her high chair with blueberries staining her chubby cheeks.

Ezra must still be in bed.

“Hi bubbies,” Harry greets with a smile as they’re curls shake as they look up with excited smiles.

“Daddy! You comin’ home?” Cash squeaks excitedly through a mouthful of food.

“Hi dad!” Easton chimes in, waving.

Briar is only half-interested, more taken by the fact that if she squishes the berries between her fingers they turn mushy, babbles out a, “Daddadaa.”

“I’ll be home in like three hours, ‘kay” Harry informs them - his heart aches to be there right now with theme

“Ezzie cried all night,” Cash let’s his father know.

“Mama cried too,” Easton whispers, like it’s a secret that he doesn’t want her to hear, “I think she is really sad.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, “I know. Ezzie was sad last night. Can I talk to mama?”

Easton looks to his mother off camera as she must say something to him to repeat to Harry, “Mama said that she is busy and she’ll see you when you get home.”

He clenches his fist off camera, trying to smile but he knows it’s terse as he says, “Alright, I love you all. See y’when I get home.”

Meanwhile, YN gets all the children settled after breakfast.

Easton, Cash, and Ezra in the backyard - the two older ones digging holes for bugs and the younger playing in the sandbox.

Briar was snoozing in the cradle of YN’s elbow as she sat on a chaise - watching the kids.

She hits the number she was looking for, waiting for it to ring, and then she hears, “Hillside Pediatrics, this is Jess.”

The office knew the family well because Harry is Harry Styles and they have four children who visit there.

YN inquires about therapeutic options for him, resources, and if they had any recommendations for where to take him.

Like the super mom she is, she manages to set up an intake appointment that evening (which was a miracle on its own), call Anne and ask to watch the other children, and then take a deep breathe.

Harry steps through the back door, dressed in his usual Yankees hoodie, Nike shorts, and trainers looking tanner than before.

“Hi bubbies!” He greets, basking in when all of his children look up and squeal excitedly at the sight of their father.

Easton and Cash are the fastest, racing to cling to each legs and nuzzle into his thigh with a tight hug.

Ezra is slower, by the time he’s arrived to his father - there was no room for him to shuffle in and he automatically lets out an earth-shattering wail.

Just like before.

“Daddy! Hold me! Daddy, hold me please!” His youngest son begs desperately, stretching up his arms, and letting hot tears stream down his cheeks.

Harry tuts, reaching for him and popping him on his hip but Ezra has other ideas - scrambling until his nose is pressed into the curve of Harry’s neck with his arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Ezzie, c’mon now,” Harry titters softly, reaching down to give both of his other boys a kiss on the head before they dart back off to play.

“Daddy, miss you,” Ezra blubbers sadly, Harry wincing when his son yanks a bit in his longer curls by the nape of his neck.

“Y’okay, daddy’s got you. Relax, breathe bubba,” His father reassured him, swaying softly back and forth until he’s just sniffing.

“We have an appointment with a children’s play therapist for him later at five,” YN tells him, shushing Briar who’s squeaking from the noise.

Harry takes a deep inhale, “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. Can we talk now since y’been ignoring my calls?”

YN bristles at the attitude in his tone, “Excuse me if I’d rather not be critiqued on my skills as a mother when I am sleep-deprived and stressed out.”

He clenches his jaw, speaking lowly with firmness, “Y’bein’ absurd! I didn’t critique to you, y’blowing things out of proportion! Y’the one who didn’t tell me this was going on!”

“It didn’t get that bad until last night! I could handle it - he would just be upset for a little before bed but he’d never got that anxious before,” She justifies, returning the glare he’s giving her.

“Didn’t think y’could mentioned it to me? I have a right to know, he’s m’baby too. I could have fix this yet you were letting him suffer,” Harry bites out but know as soon as it’s out of his mouth that he wishes he could swallow the words back down.

You were letting him suffer.

YN doesn’t even argue back, just starts bawling because of how hurtful those words were and how could he even say that?

“Mama, fuck- I didn’t, I’m just-“

His wife gets up without a word, using Briar’s blanket to wipe at her wet cheeks, and vanishing through the sliding back doors.

Ezra was snoozing peacefully on him and he couldn’t leave the boys outside alone so he resorts to sitting down on one of the outdoor couches and curse internally.

He couldn’t believe he was being so cruel. He just felt so….betrayed that she hadn’t told him what had been going on and he felt like he was letting down Ezra.

It was a nasty feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach because he was away so much from his family and it was stressful for everyone.

He wanted to cry at the idea of his son crying for him every night.

Harry starts to get anxious when YN isolates herself in their bedroom with Briar for the next upcoming hours.

He knocks softly, opening the door to YN turned on her side away from him, under the covers, with Briar asleep in her bassinet asleep.

“Mama? Y’awake?” Harry murmurs cautiously with a sandwich and chips since she’d disappeared and hadn’t been down once, water in the other hand.

“Are the boys okay?” YN asks quietly, not bothering to turn over to face him.

“Yes, babies are fine. They’re watchin’ Toy Story right now, eatin’ lunch,” Harry replies, eyes falling in his beautiful little daughter.

“If the boys are fine then I don’t want you in here,” YN tells him with an angry tone but low enough that it won’t disturb Briar.

Harry nearly whimpers.

“Baby, please. We need to talk-“

“If the boys are fine, I want you to leave me alone.”

Harry hesitates by the door, feeling helpless as he slips the plate onto the dresser in case she is hungry but he doubts she’ll touch it.

“Alright, I’ll leave y’be. Call me if y’need anythin’ or help with Briar,” He offers, trying to buy time in the room.

She laughs sarcastically, “Yeah, I’ll make sure you’re notified because I can’t do a good enough job myself.”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to conjure up the perfect words to fix this situation but it’s interrupted.

“Daddy? Daddy? Where? Hold me!” Ezra screeches as Easton stands outside the door with him, holding his hand.

“Dad, he won’t stop,” The oldest complains with annoyance as Ezra scurries to his father and up into his arms.

“Daddy daddy,” He chants into his father’s skin with relief.

“Thank y’East, Ezzie’s been sad lately. Huh?” Harry replies, thumbing at Easton’s cheek.

The oldest shrugs, “Not always. Mama cheers him up all the time with kisses and hugs.”

Harry gazes back to the lump under the blankets and feels himself getting choked up. He really really regretted his words.

He didn’t regret being upset with her. He regrets the cheap shots he took at his wife who’s just trying to be a full time mom to his babies.

“Mama?” Ezra squeaks at the word, realizing he hasn’t seen her recently and then he’s back to tantruming, “Mama, mama, mama. Where’s mama?”

“M’right here, Ez,” YN murmurs, flipping to her other side so that her youngest could see her. His face lights up and he scurries to the bed, scampering up until his mom is tucking him under the blankets with her.

Harry’s heart aches when Ezra whimpers quietly and burrows into her warm chest with happiness that he found his mother.

“Y’got him?” Harry asks, hand raking through Easton’s curls as he leans into his father’s side.

“Can we go play now, dad?” Easton asks impatiently, tugging his father out of the room and down the staircase.

Anne shows up and the two older ones are so excited, bouncing up and down as they tug her into the backyard to show her the holes they dug with Briar popped on her hip - gnawing on her shirt collar.

YN brings Ezra down the stairs, curls tamed with a bit styling mousse and a little adias x disney outfit that was the cutest thing ever. ***

Harry reaches out to take Ezra off YN but he whines and shakes his head, clinging to his mother like it was life or death.

“No daddy! Mama!” Ezra pouts angrily, glaring at his father with protectiveness.

He puts his hands up, “Okay, okay. Y’can stay with y’mama.”

The car ride is silent, Harry doesn’t know what to say and YN isn’t giving him anything to work with. He feels like he’ll just say the wrong thing again.

When they pull up to the building and Harry puts it in park, he’s startled when his wife just starts bawling into her hands.

Harry freezes for a second with wide eyes before rumbling, “Mama, sweetheart. Please don’t cry, it breaks m’heart, darlin’.”

“I’m…I’m no-not a good mom,” YN cries, “I wanted to tell you but I was scared. I don’t want you to think I can’t handle raising our babies.”

Harry pries her hands away from her face, cupping her cheeks and firmly staring, full conviction in his voice, “If I didn’t think y’could handle four babies then I wouldn’t have put them in you. I wouldn’t talk about putting more in you.”

YN’s eyes are watering, letting Harry swipe the tears away with his thumbs as she inhales deeply, “I am so so sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t want you to worry when you’re away.”

Harry leans forward, kissing her harshly before whispering against her lips, “I don’t give a fuck about baseball in comparison to you and the kids. I’d give it up this second if y’asked. I want to worry because you’re the love of m’life and I’m y’husband - I’m here to support you and support our family.”

He continues, “I am a bit frustrated with you. I want you to tell me everything I miss when I’m gone even if it stresses me out or upsets me. Okay? But I shouldn’t have said hurtful things. You’re the best mama on this planet and y’treat our babies the best.”

YN nods, willing herself to stop crying as their appointment starts in ten minutes as she takes steady breathes.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way. I just…I feel like you do everything for us and the least I could do is manage the kids,” She sighs with self-deprecation.

“Mama, just because one of our bubs needs therapy doesn’t mean you’re not doing a perfect job. We’ve always know Ezzie was an anxious baby. This is going to be good for him and for us, right?” He encourages, nosing at her cheek before she offers up her lips once more for a short kiss.

“I love you,” YN tells him, running a thumb of a light dusting of stubble on his jawline.

“Love y’more than anything,” He replies instantly.

Ezra is nervous as they step into the calming, peaceful office where there are neatly organized buckets of toys and shelves of books.

Patricia was a middle-aged woman with a kind smile who welcomed them in, she observed how Ezra had himself wrapped around his dad with hesitant green eyes peeking at her.

As they sit down, Patricia says softly, “This must be Ezra?”

They all wait for a moment before the toddler turns around to look at the woman and says timidly, “m’Ezzie.”

“Hi Ezzie,” The therapist greets and he gives her a cautious smile before nuzzling back into his father’s neck.

The discuss what has been going on. How Ezra has always been very nervous, anxious, cautious in a way that none of his other siblings are.

How he struggles when one of his parents is away from him, how he can get upset if he can’t find one of his siblings, or how much he worries about things most kids his age don’t worry about.

Patricia does an excellent job in calming down the parents, assuring them that it was nothing out of the norm, and that therapy would be beneficial for him.

She states that they’ll work a lot of feelings - being able to describe and recognize them. That will be one of the most important things.

Also working on his ability to calm down and cope with stressful situations, recommending once a week which of course his parents agreed to.

By the end of the intake, Ezra had ventured to take one of the baby dolls from a bin and bring it back to his father.

“Look daddy, s’a baby,” He lisps proudly, holding it up to show him.

“Good job, bubs,” Harry laughs, leaning to kiss his forehead - watching him toddle off to find more dolls to play with.

That night, after all the kids go to bed, and YN is finishing her final feeding with Briar in her nursery before putting in her crib.

Harry runs a nice, steaming bath with lavender bubbles and a candle burning with the lights dimmed low.

When she finds him, he slowly undresses her with warm kisses and praises of how good of a wife and mother she is.

They lay in there together, YN between his legs with her head rested on his chest, as his hands massage at her tummy and hips lovingly.

And yeah, everything is okay after that.

They get up the next day and everything is back to normal except now Ezra goes to therapy once a week with his parents.

(Ezra ends up working with Patricia until he’s in about sixth grade.)

2K notes · View notes

henry-and-the-seven-lords · 3 years

Note

Okay, so I’ve read several Obey me boys react to a sick MC hc’s/fic but normally MC has a simple cold or fever and after watching the episodes “Suds” from Spongebob, I decided why not amplify that shit? :D (It’s more of a crack, angst, and fluff)

I’d like to request head cannons of the Brothers reacting to a sick!MC BUT they are gravely ill; I’m talking sunken eyes, raspy voice, vomiting after every meal, hella frail, and they just look like walking death. To make matters even scarier, MC’s eye or arm would fall off while they’re trying to calm the panicking bois.

MC: I’m fine, it was just a cough ☺️ *eye falls out* Don’t worry about that 🙂 *puts eye back in*

What makes it hurt even more is that MC’s been overworking themselves with RAD, helping the brothers, and trying to survive the Devildom to not even worry about their health. Literally demons that would ignore/threaten MC became concerned for the new human. It doesn’t help that MC just wants to help others so damn bad. If the illness strains their legs to the point of them being unable to walk, that’s not gonna stop them from physically pulling themselves to where the brothers are to help them, noodle legs and all.

MC:*is on Death’s doorstep but hears the Brothers talk about a problem in the kitchen*

Lucifer: Beel, don’t eat the jar of you can’t open it-*damn near chokes on his tongue when he sees MC dragging their body to the boys and they look even worse than usual*

MC: I can help :D

I’m messed up for such an idea and I understand if you don’t wanna do it or don’t feel comfy with it. Something about seeing these bois become hella protective and worried for MC makes my heart happy ��

No, I would love to do it, but MC puts her eye back!? Is she a zombie? (Maybe that is a different headcannon/AU for a different day...)

I looked up the Suds (disease) forum on the spongebob wiki and it said it was the cold with extra symptoms. So MC has an extreme cold! One that makes their eyes pop out and their arms fall off... with a dash of "I was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every morning I break my legs, and every afternoon I break my arms, at night I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep."

I am stuck on how to make this a headcannon set, so these are going to blurbs of little interactions the brothers have had with a gravely ill!MC

This was really fun to write and kind of what I needed to day. I hope you enjoy this and let me know if this isn't right so I can fix it!

TW: Mentions broken bones, falling out eyes, and pulling off arms

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

Brothers Reactions to a Gravely ill MC

💙 Lucifer and Beel ❤-

Lucifer has been going around the House most of the morning taking care of his Brothers in MC's stead. MC woke up with a terrible pounding in their head and he knew that they just needed to rest by how pale their skin was. Yet it was difficult for him to manage his brothers without them. Especially when it came to Beel and his appetite.

"Beel please do not eat the entire jar of peanut butter."

"But it is faster..."

"No it isn't, you just think it is-"

Lucifer stops his scolding as he hears smacking coming from the hallway. Both brothers look toward each other before slowly approaching the doorway.

There, pulling themselves by their hands across the dirty floor is MC. Their legs are twisted in a painful way behind them.

Immediately the pair run over with Beel picking them up in his arms and Lucifer inspecting their legs confusedly.

"MC, how did you do this?" Beels voice is lace with concern.

"Oh. I rolled off my bed and they ended up like that. I wanted to come and see how you were doing!" A smile fills their face as they stare at the two perplexed demons.

"Is there a way to fix something like this?" Lucifer face is filled with confusion.

"Oh yeah! Beel, set me down in the chair." The two brothers then watch as MC snaps their kneecaps back into place before beginning to giggle and swing their legs.

"See! All better! They are still a little too weak for me to walk though."

The two glance at each other completely disturbed.

Lucifer swallows the lump in his throat and eventually speaks up, "I didn't know human illnesses were so... brutal."

💚 Satan, Levi 🧡 and Belphie 💜 -

Satan, Levi, and Belphie were given some very important jobs. They were told to feed the sick human, give them medicine, and make them sleep. They were also supposed to help the human stay comfortable so there wouldn't be any incidents like this morning.

"Let me fix your pillow, MC" Satan reaches around gently fluffing it while they lean forward.

"You guys are so sweet, but you really don't have to do this. I am fine! Seriously!"

"I'm not so sure about that..." Levi as WI concern as he hold up a spoonful of soup to MC's mouth.

MC opens their mouth and hums in satisfaction as they taste it.

"Lucifer said there were some... complications... this morning and you need to be watched over. So we are here if you need anything." Belphie's voice is soft sleep as he speaks. His head rests on MC's lap as they card their fingers through his hair.

"Whatever you- Achoo!" As MC sneezes their hands cup in front of their face. When they remove them their eyeball sits in their hands.

The shock of the sneeze wakes Belphie and he sits up.

"AHHHH" Levi jumps back dropping the soup on the ground.

"What are you screaming about Levia-" Satan looks to Levi to see him pointing at MC's hands when he looks down he sees their eye staring back at him and he pales.

"Ugh, I got hair on it again." MC begins to pull off a hair as Belphie finishes rubbing his eyes and sees for himself what the commotion is about.

"Oh no. MC, I don't think this is normal." Belphie's voice is soft as he looks to MC's face.

"No, it's fine. See." MC then proceeds to pop their eye back in and the three watch in horror as it spins around until the iris is facing forward once again. All the while MC is smiling.

"This can't be a normal human disease." Levi says as he holds himself back from vomiting.

💛 Mammon and Asmo 💖 -

Asmo had offered to take care of all of MC's hygiene needs while they got better. He had thought it would be some good alone time with them. Sadly, he was interrupted when Mammon had insisted on helping bathe MC. Now MC sits in a warm bubble bath and Mammon and Asmo sit on the rim of the tub helping scrub MC arm and hair respectively.

"You both are so sweet for doing this. I would have been fine taking a shower after I got better." MC smiles quickly at Mammon and then up towards Asmo.

"Well I couldn't have you sitting in your own filth! Even though you look amazing all the time, a nice bath can relax your aching bone and make you feel better." Asmo has a chipper tone as he grabs some water from the bathtub to rinse out the shampoo.

"Yeah. Besides I couldn't have Asmo here doing it by himself. I didn't want him takin' advantage of ya in this state." Mammon grumbled as he gently tugged on MC's arm while scrubbing.

"I would never take advantage of them, Mammon. I am not some scumbag like you." Asmo's voice got louder as he began to scrub harder.

"I ain't no scumbag! Tell him MC!" As he speaks he tugs a little harder and the pair he a tear as MC's arm comes off at the shoulder. MC winces at the sound.

"Mammon, what did you do to my precious MC!?" Asmo clings to MC's head trying to pull them as far away from Mammon as possible.

"Nothing! I wasn't pulling that hard! Was I MC? I thought I was being gentle?!" Mammon's voice is frantic as he still holds MC's arm.

MC snatches the arm back before saying, "Calm down. Both of you. It's fine."

With a loud popping sound MC pushes their shoulder back into place. They sigh in relief and swing their arm to make sure the limb still works.

"There we go. You don't know how cold your shoulder bone gets without an arm attached to it."

MC then ducks their head below the water rinsing the rest of the shampoo out. While the two demons sit there completely dazed.

So that is what Lucifer tried to warn them about.

463 notes · View notes

painsandconfusion-moved-shoo · 3 years

Text

Punishment, Gaslighting, and Aftercare

(tw: emotional manipulation, knives)

“That’s it, let it all out.” Whumper cooed, stroking Whumpee’s hair softly away from their eyes and idly brushing away their tears.

Whumpee jerked away reflexively when Whumper’s hand skimmed down to their throat. “Dont touch me.”

“Whumpee…are you…mad at me?”

Whumpee looked up at Whumper to see their face filled with genuine concern. “Are you kidding me?”

“Look, I know it hurts, but you-”

“You cut me.”

“You needed it.”

Whumpee didn’t pull away as Whumper’s fingers slowly wove back through their hair. It felt nice. Warm and soft in contrast with the sharp hot pain striking down their arm. “I didn’t need that.” It seemed true, but it felt like a lie as it slipped through their lips.

“Oh, Whumpee,” Whumper cooed, cupping Whumpee’s cheeks in both hands and tipping their face up. “Yes you did. You need structure. You need boundaries. You are so so lost right now. I want to help you.”

Whumpee’s tears pooled at Whumper’s fingers, but they didn’t seem to mind; their soft eyes never left Whumpee’s. So close. Too close. Blood dripped warm down Whumpee’s skin. They screwed their eyes shut.

“I don’t need your help. You aren’t Caretaker. It’s not your job.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Whumper whispered softly, “Can’t you see Catetaker is the reason you are so broken?” Whumper pulled Whumpee close in a gentle embrace.

Whumpee’s skin crawled as Whumper’s fingers wrapped around their shoulders, but it was so warm. So soft. So familiar. Whumpee tried to pull back, but instead they choked out a sob and curled into Whumper’s chest.

“There you go, love. Let it all out.” Whumper gripped them tighter as they shook and sobbed, not seeming to mind the blood and tears soaking through their shirt. “Caretaker broke you so badly that you don’t know who you are or what choices to make anymore. There’s so many choices, aren’t there?”

Whumpee nodded against Whumper’s chest, still shaking.

“So many choices. Such a big world.” Whumpee melted into Whumper further as they rubbed their back in soothing circles. “There’s too many thoughts fighting for control in your head. You’re too broken and weak right now to tame them all. But that’s okay. You have me. I can help you.”

Whumper gently but firmly gripped Whumpee’s shoulders and pushed them back. Whumpee let their head drop, eyes still pinned shut, not wanting Whumper to see their ugly crying. Whumper used one finger to tip their face up. Whumpee reluctantly opened their eyes, gazing up at Whumper as they whispered, “You are so weak right now. But I can help. Do you want me to help you?”

Whumpee choked out another sob, but Whunper’s finger under their chin wouldn’t let them drop eye contact, pushing back up when they tried to pull away.

Their eyes locked again. “Y-yes. Please. I’m so tired.”

Whumper gave them small, warm smile. “Of course I will help you. I love you so much.” Whumper pulled Whumpee back into an embrace. Whumpee wrapped their arms around Whumper’s waist, clinging to them pathetically as their sobs started fresh.

“There’s always too many thoughts in your head. They’re all such bad thoughts. Caretaker did this to you. Caretaker lied to you. Caretaker is the reason you’re a sobbing pathetic mess.”

Whumpee felt Whumper’s lips dip down to their ear as they spoke more softly. “But I don’t care. I love you no matter how broken you are. I will never quit. I will never give up on you like they did. We are going to fix you.”

Whumpee shook their head in small, jerky motions. “You can’t fix me.”

Whumper pulled back, taking Whumpee’s hands in theirs. “Of course I can,” they said earnestly. “I’ll give you new thoughts. Better thoughts. Easy thoughts. We will have to start from scratch since you are so far gone, but I promise I will never give up on you. You’ll be perfect again someday, you just need to trust me.” Whumper squeezed their hands lightly. “Give your all to me, and I can help you. Can you do that, Whumpee?”

Whumpee squeezed their hands back. They didn’t deserve this. Whumper had so much to worry about without having to save them. But. Whumpee was so alone. So very alone. No one else cared enough to try…and if Whumper really believed they could fix them….

“Yes.”

Whumper gave them a broad, sparkling smile. “I’m so glad to hear that. We are going to get you all better.” Whumper’s right hand released Whumpee, their fingers trailing up their arm to the cuts instead. “But if I’m going to make you better, you need to learn to accept punishment when you deserve it. It’s the only way you will grow. Do you understand?”

Whunpee’s cuts burned slightly under Whumper’s fingertips. Strangely, they felt freer after the pain. Like a wrong had been righted. A blessed sense of closure. At first it was just pain, but now a calm, thorough exhaustion washed over them in a warm embrace. “I understand,” they said softly, eyes tracing the red gashes in their skin. There was a strange beauty in them.

“That’s good. Now let’s talk about this one.” Whumper stood up smoothly, crossing the room to fetch a washcloth and bowl of water they had prepared and left on the table.

The sudden silence was uncomfortable as Whumpee was left on the floor. The moment Whumper had pulled away, Whumpee felt cold and so very alone.

They tried to mask their discomfort as they scrubbed drying tears away from their cheeks. “What do you want me to talk about?”

Whumper turned back to them, warm cloth in hand, and knelt down. Whumpee offered their mutilated arm up when Whumper held out their hand, palm up.

“I want to make sure you understand why you were punished so you can learn from this experience.” Whumpee winced as Whumper gently dabbed blood away from the edges of the gashes.

“Okay,” Whumpee said, twitching - trying not to pull away. The cloth stung, but Whumper was being so kind, they didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“So, what did you do wrong?”

Whumpee’s cheeks burned, remembering that afternoon. “I tried to call Caretaker.”

“And why did you do that?” Whumper twisted their arm to wipe the underside.

Whumpee paused, trying to find the right phrasing. “I think I just missed them. I thought they might take me back. I missed how they would-” Whumpee hissed as Whumper’s fingers pressed into a cut.

White hot pain shot up their arm.

They tried to pull away, but Whumper’s other hand locked down in their wrist like a vice. Whumpee panted, trying to writhe away as Whumper’s dark eyes bored into theirs. “You’re hurting me!”

Whumper spoke in crisp clear words, their face flat and emotionless, but their eyes burning. “Dont. Don’t think about them like that. Caretaker broke you. Caretaker set you up for failure time and time again. Caretaker is the reason you are such a mess right now. Those are bad thoughts. And bad thoughts need to be stopped. Do you understand?”

Whumpee blinked back a new round of tears and stammered as Whumper’s fingers pushed further into the cut. They couldn’t pull away, Whumper was too strong. They sputtered, “Yes. Yes! Please. I understand. Please let go!”

Whumper immediately pulled away and placed the warm cloth, soft and soothing, over the gash. It had started bleeding again.

Whumper let out a soft sigh. “I love you too much to let you think things like that. We are going to relate bad thoughts with pain, okay? This will help you correct that confusion - to slay those poisonous thoughts. Does that make sense?”

Whumpee pulled their arm back and Whumper let them this time. They should be mad, right? They should be…something?

All they felt was tired. Tired and relieved.

“Okay.”

Whumper gave that that wide, lovely smile again. So lovely and warm that Whumpee almost smiled back. “See? You’re already learning. You’re already healing. Don’t think I don’t see how hard this is for you. You are doing so well, and I’m incredibly proud of you.”

Whumpee couldn’t help but smile back at that, a blush flooding up their cheeks. “Thank you.” Whumper didn’t respond, raising their eyebrows slightly. That wasn’t enough. “Really, thank you. For this. For everything.”

Whumper grinned even wider. “It’s my pleasure. I’ll always be ready to help you. Never doubt that.” They patted their thighs and stood up. “Now let’s get you to bed. You’ve made so much progress in the past few hours, I’m sure you’re exhausted after such a big day.”

The thought of a warm soft bed made Whumpee realize just how tired they were. Their muscles sagged and complained. Their throat even hurt from screaming and from tears. They must have screamed a lot…

Whumper seemed to read their mind. “Hey now,” they said, taking Whunpee’s good hand to pull them to their feet, “Don’t dwell on it. Your punishment is over. Learn from it and move on. We will get you bandaged up and you’ll be good as new. I think you’ll sleep better tonight after all this. It’s good to go to bed with a clean conscience, don’t you think?”

Whumpee teetered a moment before finding their balance, holding tight to Whumper’s arm until their vision cleared. A bed sounded so nice right now. Properly exhausted, Whumpee agreed they would sleep well. They nodded sleepily and Whumper took their hand.

“Good. Now let’s get you to bed.”

( @missglumcakes-whump got me thinking about caretakers again lol. Though her caretaker are much less…well. Whumpy and awful.)

#who’s down for some gaslighting?#creepy Whumper #intimate Whumper #Whumpee #Whumper #whump story #whump Drabble #torture #torture mention #blood #gore #healing #caretaker #gaslighting #manipulation #cutting #whump #threats

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chockfullofsecrets · 2 years

Note

16 & 24 for a certain grave cleric firbolg

16. Worst “NOT MY ________ [insert spot here]!!!” experience?

24. A time you were cheered up with tickling after one of your worst days.

“Ca-du-ceus, are you moping over here?”

Caduceus hugs his knees a little closer to his chest, grimacing as his fur mushes together with a wet squelch. “Maybe.”

Jester plops down next to him. “Why don’t you come mope with us over by the fire, huh? It’s nice and toasty over there, you’re gonna get dry so fast!”

Well. That’s a good point. He’s not in the mood for good points, with wet fur and cold bones. “‘M fine.”

He can hear her pout. It’s a pretty nice trick. “Aw, Caduceus,” she wheedles, one horn pressing into his arm as she cuddles in, “but if you stay over here, you’re gonna get sick, and then I’m gonna have to use my super awesome healing spells to fix you instead of playing pranks and the Traveler’s gonna be all mopey about it!”

He shrugs. Jester huffs. “Okay, then… I’m just gonna carry you over, come on, let’s go!”

One muscled arm snakes around his back, another slipping under his knees. It’s kind of nice, but he’s not sure he’s in the mood for that either. “Mmm-mm.””

“Huh.” A puff of warm breath ghosts right into his ear, making him twitch - and then Jester leans forward and starts to nibble at the shell of it, and he’s doing a lot more than twitching.

“Nohohooo,” he whines, trying to press his face further into his knees even as his whole body fills up with giggles. “T-tickles, that tickles-”

“I kno-ow,” Jester sing-songs, punctuating the sentence with a fanged nip that sends him jumping. “I think I’m gonna tick-le you until you’re not grumpy anymore!”

“No,” he whines again, tilting his head to the side as a meager defense. Jester just laughs and starts to tickle his shoulderblades instead, a series of fluttering tap-tap-taps that make him laugh hard enough that he flops over onto his stomach and tries to squirm away. “Hehehehe,” he snickers into the dirt - and aw, she’s flopping down too, right on top of him, like a blanket. It’s nice.

He’s not so sure why he was upset in the first place, anymore.

Weight settles onto his calves, just about then. “No,” he rushes out, suddenly, eyes springing wide, “wait, wait-”

Two sets of mischievous fingers start to scribble at the backs of his knees, and he squeals. “Not my kneeheeheees!”

“Grumpy Caduceus gets aaaaall the knee tickles he can take!” Jester proclaims. He swears there’s more than ten fingers now. Is the Traveler helping her? It tickles. “Cootchie cootchie co-ooo!”

She lets him wail in ticklish agony for what feels like an hour before moving on to pinch at the backs of his thighs - less paralyzing but almost worse in the way it makes him jump every single time. He’s grinning now, big enough that it hurts. “Ihihi-,” he tries, still squirming like a blade of grass blown by the wind, and can’t get a single sound further.

Maybe he’s just going to have to wait until she’s done with him. That’s not so bad.

“Scheiße,” Caleb hisses suddenly from somewhere over his head. “Wait - Jester! The fire-”

“Oh!” She stops tickling him. Caduceus pries open an eyelid to find the edge of their campfire less than a foot from his nose.

“Huh. Thanks, Caleb.” He sits up, looking over at Jester and responding to her searching smile with a raised arm for her to scurry under.

She nearly tackles him into a hug, scrubbing her face into his shirt. “Aw, I’m really glad you’re not mad anymore!”

He laughs. “Thanks for the lift.”

“No problem,” she purrs - it is toasty, over here, especially with someone cuddling into his side, and he basks in the warmth. She shifts a little, pointing one blue finger accusingly out. “You’re next, Caleb!”

“Wh-what?”

They’re going to have to put out the fire, at this rate.

#tickling #critical role #caduceus clay #jester lavorre #chocfic #asks #snippets - dec2021 worsts

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Honey, Ice Tea | Chapter 5-9

1Summary: Fix-it-fic: Dr. Y/L/N and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.

Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prison, Prison Violence, Assault, Blood, Depression, Murder, Self-Hatred, Hurt Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drug Addiction, References to Drugs, Drug Use, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Forbidden Love, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Requited Love, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, past abusive relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

Word Count: 14.3K

1-4, 5-9, Epilogue

Chapter 5

Spencer agreed to a Thursday night game night in her office sometime last week, and she’s spent every day since then planning it out for him.

Learning that he really loved Tandoori chicken, making it from scratch at home and packaging it into a couple containers to bring into work. She followed a recipe from Pinterest, hoping it bared any resemblance to what he was used to, only changing full chicken to boneless bite size cutlets, because he couldn’t use a knife in the prison.

She got a chess set at the store, as well as a deck of playing cards for the Vegas boy. Rushing out her door early Thursday morning so she could stop and get a coffee and one of his favourite doughnuts too.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to tell him how she felt any time soon, just wanting to show him friendship and support until he was finally out of prison. Vowing to uphold her oath, he was a patient in her care, she would care for him as such until he wasn’t.

She carefully placed her lunchbox and the chess set on the security desk, letting them look through it as she waited. Taking out all the food from her bag, looking through the plastic to ensure she wasn’t sneaking in anything.

“It’s just my lunch for the next 2 days, I promise,” she smiled.

“I know, but I have to look anyway,” the nice man smiled. “Have a good day today Dr. Pat.”

“Thank’s, you too, officer Kyle,” she smiled, picking her things back up and heading past the gates.

Spencer was turning the corner towards the infirmary as she walked towards the door. Officer Wilkins holding him in handcuffs as he roughly walked Spencer to her office.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she stopped, looking at Wilkins like he was an idiot. “Un-cuff inmate Reid, he’s not a threat. Plus, he can hold some things for me.”

“Whatever,” he huffed, roughly taking the cuffs off Spencer's wrists before leaving. Not saying another word.

“What a dick,” she mumbled as she handed him the lunchbox.

“Good morning Spencer,” she changed her tone to match her growing smile.

He sighed, smiling back as he rubbed his wrists. “Good morning to you too, Y/N.”

She opened the infirmary door, walking past all the sleeping men in the care area. Unlocking her office before inviting Spencer in. “Sorry I was almost late,” she said softly, taking the chess set and a brown paper bag out of her purse.

She set it on Spencer's desk along with the coffee that was in her hand, “for all your help this week,” she smiled.

Spencer placed her lunchbox in her fridge, laying a hand on her back as he walked past her towards his desk. “You’re too kind to me,” he was bashful as always.

“I have something I wanted to talk to you about,” she closed the door softly, making sure the blinds on the doors window were closed as well.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he tried to joke as he sat down.

“I asked to help with your case, maybe give a fresh opinion, so Penelope sent me all the files but I haven’t opened them yet,” she sat on the edge of her desk. Trying to read his body language as he took out his donut.

He liked the pink frosting off his finger, nodding as he followed along. “Why not?”

“I wanted your permission,” she pressed her lips together in an awkward smiled. His eyes raising to meet hers, innocent as ever.

“Oh?”

“You’re very reserved, you have rules about what you share, I don’t want to break the trust we’ve built by looking into something so intimate,” she explained her thoughts. “It’s not fair for me to learn about the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, without you being the one to tell me.”

“What do you know already?” He asked softly, blinking at her as he patiently waited.

She smiled at him softly, grateful that he understood. “I know the 3 charges that you’re in on, and that you’re being framed.”

“I think I would prefer it if you read the file and just asked me questions. I don’t think I have the mental capacity to recite it all back to you today,” he was honest. Taking a sip of his coffee and looking away from her.

Giving up so much of himself to her so early in the day, she felt like he was finally comfortable with her.

She found the key to his thoughts and it opened just right, she could see the hurt that flowed through him, but she could also see the happiness. The side of him that he was afraid to bring out, in fear it would get him in more trouble.

“Okay,” she agreed. Sitting at her desk and finally opening the email form Penelope.

She read through his tox-screens, his drug history, his mental state. His first-hand accounts, witness statements, clues and findings his team had made. It all felt like the plot to a bad movie about revenge, possibly even female rage. But for what?

“I finished reading,” she said softly, brows furrowed as she chews the inside of her cheek. “Do you know anyone other than this Mr. Scratch guy who you’ve put away, wronged, lead on, or just pissed off?”

“Why?” He asked, clearly attached to the idea this was all Mr. Scratch’s doing.

“It feels like revenge, but very well planed. Like a women is mad at you so she found your weakness, I’ve done mean shit to exes in the past but this is insane. They knew you’d do anything for your mom, they knew your drug history, and the fact you might get schizophrenia one day, they wanted to drug you and make you think you did all this.”

Spencer stood then, listening to her words as he scrunched his face. Thinking as hard as he could, “can you call Penelope?”

“Yeah,” she nodded as she dialled her number, putting her on speaker phone.

“Well hello there, Love Doctor,” Penelope teased as she answered.

“Um hi, Spencer wanted to talk to you,” she panicked.

“Oh, sorry, how are you Spencer?”

Spencer looked so confused, “I’m good… Y/N and I were looking at the case files you sent-”

“Good, did you find anything?” Penelope cut in, eager to talk to him.

“Have you looked into everyone I’ve ever encountered on a case? Specifically women?” Spencer asked. “I told my lawyer and Emily that I remember a woman being there and helping, she must know me from a case too, like the other prison escapees he’s helped?”

“On it pretty boy, any specifics about her that you remember?” Penelope asked over the sound of her keyboard clicking away.

“Long brown hair, but it’s probably different now,” he added. “Everything else is dark, I didn’t see her face or any other features.”

“Alright, call me anytime Spence, I miss you,” Penelope said softly, changing her tone to a more sensitive one. “Take care of each other, my loves.”

“Love you,” they say at the same time. Looking at each other awkwardly after she hung up, leaving them to sit with their words alone.

Spencer was leaning so close to her she could feel his body heat radiating off him. Spencer placed his hand on her shoulder as he stood straight, towering over her as she looked up at him.

“I have patients to talk to, but I brought chess for you to teach me later,” she smiled up at him.

“Can’t wait,” he beamed a smile back.

She felt his hand rub the back of her blue scrubs lightly, pulling away as he walked back around to his desk. She watched him with careful eyes, wishing he would have stayed longer.

—

Normally at 4:30, Y/N would bring Spencer a tray of whatever the kitchen was serving her patients for dinner that night. Tonight, however, she walked into her office at 5 pm on the dot, closing the clinic for the night and putting all her attention on Spencer.

“So,” she smiled as she leaned against her office door, excitement radiating out of her. “A little birdie told me that you really like Indian food, Tandoori chicken to be exact…”

“No way?” He gasped as he turned around in his chair.

She nodded with a cheeky grin, “homemade so I could sneak it in.”

She took her lunch box out of her mini-fridge, opening it up to show him the 2 Tupperware containers. One for him, the other for her. She took the lids off and dished it onto 2 plates she keeps in the cabinet above the fridge.

Spencer grew more and more excited as she warmed it up, filling the room with a familiar smell. He was so happy, “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you do for me?”

“Come here,” she said softly, watching him walk towards her carefully.

She wrapped her arms around his middle, holding him in a hug. He carefully placed his hands on her back, holding her against his chest as he snuggled his cheek into her hair again.

“I’ll take hugs as payment from now on,” she pulled back from him as the microwaved beeped.

Taking a plastic spoon from the cutlery jar, she opened the microwave and handed him a plate. “Did you want to stay in here or go to the break room? I never use it cause I don’t have any co-workers, but it has a couch and a coffee table?”

“Okay,” he smiled. Taking the plate from her and waiting for her to warm up her own meal before taking a bite.

He was ever the gentleman.

Y/N reached back into her lunch box, taking out the package of naan bread, seeing Spencer’s eyes basically roll into the back of his head. “You thought of everything?”

“Bread is my life,” she laughed.

When her food was ready, she placed it on top of the chess box and led the way down to the break room. Spencer holding every door for her.

She flicked on the lights in the break room, watching them strobe before making that awful powering up frequency. She groaned, putting her food on the table before turning on a few lamps instead.

The room went from bright and anxious to relaxed and personal, the amber glow bouncing off the cream walls, it was nice. As nice as it could be in a prison. She never thought she’d be having a date at a prison.

That’s basically what this was, a date.

She made him dinner, they were going to play games, he was going to sit right beside her, close enough to kiss. She really wanted to, she’s thought about it a lot, his pink lips were perfect and she just wanted to see how they’d feel between her own.

But she wont.

“Dig in honey,” the name rolled over her tongue like it was always meant to.

She felt his eyes on her right away, realizing that she called him honey in a situation where he wasn’t crying, where he wasn’t vulnerable. She said it as a term of endearment, she couldn’t stop the embarrassment form settling in her veins.

She sat beside his softly, picking up her dinner and pretending it didn’t happen. “Thank you,” Spencer cut into the awkwardness.

“You’re welcome,” she said softly. Feeling like she could flip inside out at any moment.

From the corner of her eye she saw him take the first bite, closing his eyes as he appreciated the moment. His shoulders settled as he chewed, she could swear he almost moaned as he ate it. She has had the food in the cafeteria before, she understood his reaction.

“That good?” She asked, teasing him softly.

He nodded, silent as he took it all in. He took another bite, and another, she felt like he was going to get the hiccups at this rate but it was too cute to stop. He was like a stray dog eating inside for the first time in months, it made her happy and then a little sad.

He stayed quiet the whole time. Crossing his legs as he sat on the couch, the plate pulled in close to his chest as he shovelled spoonfuls of food into his mouth. She sat there admiring him as he did so, falling more and more every time she glanced at him.

“That was delicious,” Spencer said as he stood, placing his plate on the counter across the room. “Are you done?” He asked, taking her plate as she reached it out to him.

“Yeah, thanks,” she watched him carefully, always wanting to help her in whatever way he could.

He didn’t sit on the couch when he came back, instead, sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, taking the chess set out and beginning to set it up. Not wanting to miss a moment of the freedom he felt when he was with her.

“So, chess is pretty easy to learn,” he said, looking up at her through thick eyelashes as he spoke. “Do you know any of the rules yet?”

“Um, I know where they all go, I know that you can’t go through other pieces and the horse gets to jump?” She tried to remember all the way back to grade 4, the last time someone explained the rules to her.

He was so soft with her, explaining the rules and showing her what to do. His hand would lightly brush over hers occasionally, eventually, he’d just guide her hand over the pieces that she should move. It was so nice to just be alone with him, knowing they were both allowed to be happy.

The room was mostly silent, only the sound of Spencer's advice and her giggle as she still wasn’t grasping the concept of the game.

“I just like, don’t care about the rules?” She couldn’t stop giggling at the fact she wasn’t picking up on anything he said.

Spencer laughed, it was deep and hearty, right from his soul, “then how do you want to play?”

She picked up the queen and moved it to a random spot, “I want to put this here and fight your guy. That’s why I don't get this, what is my XP? What are their skills? I was raised on Pokemon, honey.”

He made his way back to the couch, sitting closely beside her. “Well sugar pie, do you have any other games you want to play?”

She couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and pressing her lips against his. His hands wrapped around her waist on instinct as they connected.

It was everything she imagined. Soft, gentle, refreshing. Like a cold glass of ice tea on a hot summers day. She wanted more, never letting up as she kissed him.

Spencer was the one to pull off first, “shit,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand as she stared at him, horrified.

He laughed, smiling at her softly. “It’s okay,” he promised, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

She doesn’t stop him from pulling her back in, holding her hand on his cheek as he kissed her again. Hungrier than before, Spencer’s tongue was on a mission. He tastes like dinner, but with his own Spencer difference.

Kissing him felt like a fairytale coming true.

She forgot where they were, his hands on the back of her scrubs and her hands in his hair as their mouths clashed. She started to lay back on the couch, pulling him down on top of her.

“We can't,” he pants against her lips. Regretting it as he pulls away from her.

“Sorry, this was unprofessional I know,” she tried to play it off.

Spencer pulled her back in, flush against his chest once more. “No, I don’t regret it. It’s just, I’m not ready.”

“Oh,” she says softly. Then it clicks, “oh, oh my god, Spencer I’m so sorry I forgot. I didn’t mean to push you into anything,” she worries, running her hands over his arms softly.

He shakes his head, “you didn’t. I want to, believe me, I just don’t think I can handle the after part…”

“I cried for 3 hours after I had sex again, after everything,” she told him in complete honesty. Not even Savannah or Derek knew that.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” she assured him. “You shouldn’t have to be the only vulnerable one here, I want you to know about me.”

“You don’t have to tell me the details, I don’t want to think about someone hurting you,” he whispered, his eyes innocently studying her face for how she was feeling.

“Okay, so here’s everything else,” she was still holding his face in her hands. Rubbing her thumb over his cheeks. “I had 2 moms and a little sister, and I was raised in Boston. I met Savannah in 2004, I worked with her until a few years ago. She’s my best friend, Derek is like my big brother.”

She gave him the basics, “I don’t have a dad, my mom used the same donor for me and my sister, so I’ve never really felt safe around men because I never knew many.”

“Understandable,” he smiled softly. “what’s your mom like?”

“She died when I was 26,” she pressed her lips together awkwardly. “I haven’t talked to her wife since then, my other mom, she remarried not long after. I think she was cheating on my mom when she was going through chemo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“I can relate to a lot of the stories I know about you already. My mom was my world, I don’t know my dad. I’ve been hurt by people, I’ve lost a lot of myself while trying to help others,” she brushed her nose against his softly. Letting him know she wasn’t pulling back any time soon. “Who you are is not what you did, or what you’ve been through.”

He kisses her again softly. Breathing in through his nose lightly, his hand on her back pulling her in closer and closer. He didn’t want to let her go, and she was more than happy staying in his embrace forever.

He pulled back softly, “I lied to you.” He whispered against her lips.

“When?” She asked, scared to know the answer.

“I do remember you from Derek’s wedding, he told me about you a long time ago. I told him I was ready for dating again when you told him about Mark,” he couldn’t look at her.

“That’s not a huge lie,” she smiled softly. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking at you all night, with that little blond boy. You two were so sweet, Mark got really mad at me for staring at you actually.”

“Derek told me when he hurt you, he came to my apartment right after so he wouldn’t go and kill him,” Spencer’s voice was so low she had to stare at his lips to understand him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she shook her head softly, kissing the tip of his nose. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to go back to my cell,” he whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

Breaking her heart in the process.

She kissed his cheeks and his lips a few times, peppering kisses to his soft face to make up for it. “We can’t do this again until you’re free,” she whispered.

“I understand.”

“So you better think long and hard about this woman you remember so I can track her down and shove her in that cell instead,” Y/N’s stern voice made him smile.

“Thank you,” he replied again, hugging her the way he promised he would thank her from now on.

—

For being 9 pm on a spring night, it was rather warm in the Vermont parking lot. She left the prison a while ago, not able to leave Spencer’s gravitational pull yet as she sat there, staring at the prison thinking about him alone in his cell instead of pressed against her chest for the rest of the night.

Thinking about the feeling of Spencer’s hands on her body and his tender lips. Her hand over her mouth as she remembered how his bottom lip ghosted over her own, the anticipation was enough to light her on fire.

She took out her phone and called Derek, knowing he would put her on speaker if they were already in bed for the night. Really needing her best friends right now.

“Hey kick-ass, how are you doing today?” Derek’s voice was overly cheery, “Hey!” Savannah added in the background.

“I’m in love with him.”

Chapter 6

She barely slept anymore. Waking up at 6 am every morning without her alarm clock, her heart physically aching to return to Spencer's side after a night without him. She felt like a love-sick school girl, wanting to be with him all day even if they had nothing to say. Just looking at him was enough to make her happy.

A few weeks passed. Weeks filled with smiles and laughter, singing and reading, inside jokes and shared jello cups. She was so madly in love with him, hugging him every morning when he arrived and every night before he left. Keeping her word, kissing him on the cheek every so often instead.

She started a routine of picking up a coffee and a donut for Spencer every single Thursday, worried that he probably thought about his case all night, yet again. Which only kept her up worrying all night about him, wondering if he was doing okay all alone.

Only getting sleep when she remembered that he had a photo of her, his mom, Derek and hank with him. He’d be okay.

She walked into the infirmary to find Jerry and Mike waiting for her with a guard. Mike bleeding all down his face while Jerry held his clearly broken hand.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” she sighed. Putting all her things in her office before coming back to care for them.

She excused the guard, telling him she had it from here. They wouldn’t put up any more fights with her, they looked up to her like a momma bear, and they were her terrible cubs.

“It is 7:33 am, who the fuck did you have to fight this early?” She whisper yelled at them. Not wanting to wake Leo in the care ward, “who is worth this?”

“You don’t want to know,” Mike said under his breath.

“Well clearly he’s not here, is he dead or in violent crimes? If you two fucked up our plan of me helping you during parole next year, I’m going to be pissed,” she tried her best to entice the answers out of them.

“It was Shaw,” Jerry said softly. “He was planning to hurt the new guy, he’s all fake buddy-buddy with him.”

“Excuse me?” She panicked.

“He’s been talking to Milos at night in the locker room, Wilkins lets him out of his cell and into gen-pop,” Mike carried on the story as she tried to clean the blood off his eyebrow.

“What are they going to do to Spence?”

“Spence?” Jerry teased her, poking her side. “I didn’t know he had a nickname already. Why haven’t we met him yet?”

“I’ve kept him locked away to be safe, I’m going to find a way to keep him here at night,” She said softly. “He’s best friends with my brother, I can’t let him get hurt.”

“So you knew him in freedom land?”

She nodded, “a little.”

“All you need is a bandaid,” she changed the subject as she reached into her kit. “And Jerry I’m going to have to set your fingers back in place, if you scream in my face, I will kick you in the nuts.”

They laughed at her fake tuff guy act, never actually being able to hurt them. They were her buddies, giving her a big hug after she finished with them. Getting them both a pudding and telling them to stay put for the day if they wanted to.

Spencer found her in the lab when he arrived, she knew it was him when the door opened, no one else had a passkey to get in. She was writing down some numbers on a chart when he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She dropped her pen and turned around in his grasp, holding his face in her hands immediately as she pulled him into a quick kiss.

“I thought you said I couldn’t do that again till I’m free?” He asked softly. Kissing her a second time as he finished.

She smiled against his lips, “you’re free when we’re alone.”

He kissed her harder. His hands around her waist as he picked her up slightly. Twirling her around as they kissed, she laughed against his skin. Unable to stop herself from smiling as she held onto him.

She kissed him one last time as he put her down on the floor, “I have a coffee and donut for you in my office.”

“You’re too good to me, Sugar Pie.”

“Anything for you, Honey Bunch,” she bit her lip as she smiled at him again. So absolutely overwhelmed with love for him.

“I actually have a serious question to ask you,” his tone changed, making her concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m still trying to figure out more about that night, and I think I want to try exposure therapy,” he explained. “I was wondering if you’d help me get high, so I can remember what happened in the same mindset.”

“Okay,” she nodded softly. “I can book you in for the night here, say you’re under observation, and I’ll stay here with you.”

“Are you sure?”

She kissed him softly again, looking up at him with a smile after. “If you’re sure about it, I’ll help you. But we need some ground rules.”

“Of course,” he agreed. Letting go of her as she stepped back, leaning against the counter now.

“No kissing, nothing like that, we’ll do it in my office so you can be alone and then later you’ll sleep in the observation room. Leo is in there, he’s harmless and sleeps all night on his morphine anyway,” she explained. “I’m not going to take advantage of you, I don’t want you to regret it. It’s going to be hard to sober up again once you get a taste of euphoria in here.”

He nodded along as she set the rules, “those are good. Thank you.”

“They drugged you with heroin, and while I know where to get some, I’m not letting you do that,” she laughed. “I have Dilaudid in pills and liquid morphine.” Letting him pick his poison.

“The pills will be fine,” he said softly.

“Alright,” she smiled. “And if you want, when you get out I can take you to a meeting? You’ll need to talk to someone other than me, someone who gets it.”

“You’ll stay with me after all this?”

“As long as you let me,” she felt her heart grow 3 sizes at the way his puppy dog eyes stared back at her. “Go have your breakfast and I will come to see you soon, okay honey?”

His smile was glorious, she could feel the love radiating off him as he looked at her. It felt wonderful, knowing at that moment her feelings weren’t one-sided. That he wanted her just as bad as she wanted him. He was going to be good to her.

—

She had mike and Jerry help her move the couch from the break room and into her office, allowing them to meet Spencer, finally. It was awkward at first, two big muscle men telling him how much they also loved their Sugar.

“Should we tell him?” Mike nudged Jerry.

“What?” Spencer asked softly, sitting at his desk on the other side of the room, really not enjoying their alpha energy.

“Shaw, Milos and Wilkins are all secretly buddies, they were planning to hurt you and so Mike and Jerry beat Shaw up in the yard,” she scrunched her face as she explained it, not ready for his reaction.

“How?”

“After they cut that kid's throat, they wanted to get you to run heroin for them. But you ended up in here, we heard them in gen-pop last night saying they wanted to get you,” Jerry explained as he played with the bandages on his hand. “He won't be out of the violent offender's infirmary for a while.”

“Thank you,” he replied to them with a pressed-lipped smile. “I need to call my team about the case.”

That was their queue to leave, Y/N patting them on the back for the help, telling them they could stay with Leo or go back to the yard, she didn’t care. They just couldn’t be in her office for this.

Spencer looked a little pissed off. “I didn’t ask them to do that,” she said, defensively.

“I’m not mad at you,” he shakes his head softly as steps into her space. “You’re the only person I can trust in here.”

She placed her hand on his chest softly, “call Penelope. Take your time on the phone with the team.” She handed him her cell phone, “FaceTime them if you want. See their faces, it’ll be okay.”

He hugged her, a silent thank you. She ran her hands over his back as she pressed her face into his neck. Holding back every instinct to tell him she loved him as she pulled away.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiled. Taking her phone, “how do I?”

She couldn’t help laughing, “here,” she dialled Penelope’s cellphone number and hit the FaceTime button.

Seeing her beautiful, bright and bubbly face smile as she answered. “Hey! Oh my god, hold on,” they watched as she got up and ran down a hallway.

Spencer was instant giggles and smiles, a side of him she’s never seen before. True, pure love. This was his family, these were his people. She could see herself fitting into his little world one day.

“Guys! It’s Spencer!” She yelled as she ran into another room.

“What’s wrong?” “Is he okay?”

Suddenly she turned the phone sideways to show all his co-workers. “Hi!” He waved to them.

“Spence!” Emily and JJ cheered, “oh you look so good.”

“I feel good, how are you all?” He asked softly, taking her phone and sitting down at his desk.

She watched him softly from the door, slipping out when she saw his attention was fully on his past life. She walked down the hall towards the lab, hearing his laughter through the walls.

—

She placed 2 pills in a plastic cup, taking an apple juice and jello from the fridge for Spencer. She placed it on his desk 20 minutes before his shift ended, giving him a little space to decide when he wanted to. He told her that he get’s cold when he comes down from a high, so she leaves a fluffy blanket and a pillow on the couch before slipping back out of the room.

She returned to the care unit, looking over Leo as he got ready for the night. Administering his meds and wishing him a good night. She closed his curtain, so when Spencer eventually went to bed he wouldn’t be disturbed.

When she finally settled into her office for the night, Spencer was in the dark. Sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “Hey,” he said softly.

“How are you?” She asked softly. Closing the door behind herself. Locking it and making sure all the blinds were closed.

“It’s going to hit soon,” he said softly. Suddenly embarrassed and closed off, hiding from her as he laid down.

She didn’t want to bother him, sitting at her desk with her reports. The light from the computer is just enough to see what she was looking at. She glanced at him every few minutes to make sure he was okay.

He enjoys it at first, a blissed-out look on his face as his head is tossed back against the couch. She knows the exact euphoria he’s feeling, she understood perfectly why someone would want to escape like that.

Then his face changes as he starts to hate it, he mumbles to himself with his eyes squeezed shut, she could see him gripping the sheets as he tries to force himself to remember.

She’s uncomfortable watching it, feeling like an intruder. She tried to only focus on her work, flipping through emails and Twitter, scrolling through Facebook for the first time in months to preoccupy her mind.

He was like that for at least an hour.

She could hear his teeth chattering as he came down, just like he said would happen. “You okay, honey?”

“Y-yeah,” he tried to speak through the shaking. “C-can we cuddle?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, turning on her desk lamp before joining him on the couch.

She pulled him up into a sitting position, sitting where his head once was and letting him settle into her lap. She ran her hands through his hair, combing through the locks as she shushed him. Running her hand up and down his back in a tender motion, he snuggled into her leg.

“I’m not that high anymore,” he says softly.

“I know, it’s okay if you are. I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

It makes her stop. Her whole body stills at the words, he wanted to clarify so she’d know it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing. She closes her eyes and squeezes them shut, biting her lip as she tries not to burst into tears.

He felt it too.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, “sit up.” She instructs him softly.

She laid down against the couch then, waiting for him to snuggle into her side. Wrapping the blanket around them both as they found the most comfortable position.

“Sorry,” he whispered against the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay, it just feels wrong for me to say it back right now. I feel the same, believe me, Spencer.” She wanted to assure him to the best of her ability. “But you’re still an inmate in my care, I can’t. Not yet.”

“You don’t have to,” he pulled back to look her in the eyes, his own still droopy from how tired the drugs made him. “I’m going to love you regardless.”

She broke her own rules. Kissing him softly, holding him close to her, under the blanket where both their body heat was trapped. She had never felt safer in her entire life.

Spencer only crawling into that bed in the care ward when he woke up to her alarm the following morning.

Chapter 7

There’s someone banging on her office door just a little after 8 am. She was in the middle of putting a new pair of scrubs on over her long-sleeve undershirt, the banging on her door doesn’t stop until she opens the door.

“What?” She yells at them.

It’s Officer Wilkins. “Where is inmate Reid? We have a visitor for him.”

“No one is scheduled to see him today?”

“There is now. Where is he?” The man towered over her. Trying his best to intimidate her.

“Care ward. I’ll get him. You can go wait in the waiting room,” she pushes past him. Watching him stumble as he hits the wall.

“He’s not worth dying over,” he whispers under his breath.

She doesn’t leave Reid’s side as Wilkins attempts to escort him to an interrogation room. Y/N stands in the observation room as Spencer waits, cuffed to the table. Looking through the mirror at each other, only he couldn’t see her. He just knew she would be there.

“Mom?” Spencer’s shocked voice breaks her out of her thoughts as she sees Diana walking into the room.

A dark-haired woman she’s never met before escorting her in. Y/N whips her phone out to take a quick photo before running back to her office as quickly as she can.

Y/N: I need you to check on Cassie, Diana’s nurse. Someone I don’t know just brought Diana to the prison.

She attached the photo she took, setting her phone down to looking through the visitor's logs on her computer. Wanting to know the name of the woman accompanying Diana.

“I’m sorry,” the familiar voice says from her doorway.

She looks up at him from her desk. Wilkins is stepping into her space with a look of guilt, taking his baton off his belt.

“You don’t have to do this,” she backed up against the wall, trying to keep as much distance from him as possible.

“I have to,” his tone changed. Like a personality switch, his eyes darkened as he charged at her.

She ran around the desk, watching him follow. Punching her in the face, causing her to fall back against the couch, she didn’t want him to get on top of her. Dropping to the carpeted floor as he dove onto the couch.

She crawled on the floor towards the door as he tried to get up. Standing as fast as she could, roundhouse kicking him in the face with a grunt. Her foot hit his jaw at just the right angle, rendering him unconscious.

She reached for his cuffs as soon as he hit the floor, “Leo!! Help!” She screamed down the hall.

She heard bare feet running down the hall, followed by the sound of rubber on linoleum. “Sugar??” Mike and Jerry yelled as they followed.

“Watch him,” she insisted once the cuffs were on him. “Hurt him if you have to.”

She took the second pair of cuffs off Wilkins's belt before running out of the room, her lip busted and bleeding down her neck.

She ran down the hall towards Spencer, busting into the room and knocking the nurse to the ground. Struggling to get her onto her stomach, “stop struggling, who the fuck are you?”

“Get off me!” She screamed in return.

Y/N cuffed her and pulled her to her feet, pushing her against the stone wall.

“What is going on?” Spencer stood up, cuffed to the table so he couldn’t help.

“Wilkins just attacked me, Diana wasn’t supposed to be here,” she said over her shoulder in Spencer’s direction. “So I’ll ask again,” she whispered in the woman's ear as she pushed her against the wall harder. “Who, the fuck! Are you?”

“He knows me,” she spat out.

Y/N ripped her off the wall, making her look at Spencer who was shocked, speechless as he tried to remember her face. “Who is she?”

“She told me Cassie was fired, she’s been with me all morning?” Diana tried to explain, slightly freaking out.

“I sent her photo to Penelope, I need a guard,” Y/N said, hauling the unknown women into the hall with her.

—

The prison was put on lockdown as they tried to figure out this security breach. Wilkins and the nurse being held in prison custody as they waited for the BAU team to fly in.

Figuring out that her name was Lindsay Vaughn, Spencer remembered as much as he could about her. How he tried to save her dad, losing him to his carnal need to kill. Lindsay following closely in her daddy's footsteps.

Diana sat at Spencer’s desk, Mike and Jerry stand watch at the door. Y/N was sitting on top of her desk in front of Spencer, it was his turn to run alcohol over her cuts. Holding her face in his hands as he cared for her.

“I'm sorry,” he mouths the words at her. Not wanting his mother to overhear them.

She nods in response, unable to smile as the cut on her lips stings. All things considered, she could have been in a lot worse condition if it wasn’t for Derek and her training.

She wants to kiss him, she can tell he’s looking over her shoulder at his mom. Waiting to make sure she’s not looking before he leans in a little closer.

Pressing their lips together as silently as possible, his eyes still on her’s as they did so. It’s the most tender kiss she’s ever had, “I’m okay Spence,” she said softly as he pulled back.

“I’m still sorry you were dragged into this,” holding her against his chest softly.

From where she was sitting on top of her desk, she placed her head on his chest, holding him as close as she could, his cheek resting on her head. She wrapped her legs around him, not wanting to let him go, ever.

Needing the comfort he brought her, now more than ever.

When Derek and she started training again it was mostly to help her feel safe. To know what to do if it happened again. She didn’t ever expect it to, thinking it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. That she’d learn from it and then she wouldn’t be in this situation again, being punched in the face by a man.

She started to cry, the throbbing pain in both her face and her foot taking over as the adrenaline dissipated, she was too overwhelmed to do anything more. He let her cry against him, rubbing his hand on her back as he kissed her forehead.

She couldn’t wait for him to get out of here, and she was going to leave with him.

—

Derek is the first to burst through the door. Wrapping Spencer up in the biggest hug she’s ever seen him give. Rocking Spencer back and forth in his grasp as he kissed Spencer's cheek a few times.

He pulled back, holding Spencer's face in his hands. Smiling so he didn’t cry, “they’re dropping the charges.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope,” Derek shakes his head adding, “You’re free.” Expecting Spencer to hug him again.

Instead, Spencer turns to Y/N and pulls her into a kiss. She’s startled at first, eyes wide open as Spencer’s hands find her waist and pulls her right up against him.

She can't help but settle against him. Holding his face in her hands as she kisses him back. He picks her up slightly, spinning her around with his face buried in her neck as she yelps.

Everyone in the room watching him celebrate with her in shocked silence.

He placed her back on the ground, kissing her one last time. “You did it, Spence,” she smiles at him.

“We did it.”

She hears someone clearing their throat. Both of them turning to see the Warden as well as the entire BAU team standing in her doorway. But they don’t pull apart, Spencer’s hand stays on her side as they wait to get yelled at.

“I quit,” Y/N said before he could say anything to her, “and I might sue.”

“I’m suing for sure,” Spencer added.

“We’re terribly sorry for the condition of your stay Doctor Reid. And Doctor Y/L/N, I’ll never be able to make it up to you. I’m incredibly sorry for what Wilkins did,” the warden tried to cover his ass from a bureau lawsuit.

“Too late for that,” Emily added. Stepping into the room more. “Doctor Reid will be leaving with us, now.”

“Understood,” the Warden hurried out of the room before any more damage could be done.

Everyone took a turn hugging Spencer then. A handful of them even hugging Y/N as well.

Emily wrapped Y/N up in a hug, rubbing her back the way she would all those years before. “Thank you, you have no idea what he means to us.”

“I think I do,” she laughed against her. “If that’s not weird?”

“Not at all,” she pulled back, looking at Y/N with her big beautiful eyes, her bangs pushed out of the way so she could take a good look again. “You two are good together.”

She smiled, “thanks Em.”

“We need to fill him in on everything, will you stay with Diana?” Emily asked.

“Of course, I’m just going to be packing up some things anyway,” she said as she turned to Spencer. “Have fun with your friends, honey.”

“Thanks, sugar,” he kissed her on the cheek before walking out. Everyone whistling and hollering at the boldness Dr. Reid had developed in prison.

They all filed out after him, she watched the door with a soft smile as they wandered down the hall, Spencer taking them to the break room so they could chat.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Diana’s small voice came from Spencer’s desk.

“Oh, Diana,” she smiled. “Can I give you a hug?”

Diana nodded as she walked over to her, wrapping her up in a hug, much like how Spencer would. She can imagine Spencer’s hugs once feeling like this, imagining him small and shy, holding her slightly. Unlike his more beefy, relaxed form since being in prison.

“He means the world to me too,” she says softly as Diana pulls away.

“You saved him, if he didn’t have you he might not still be my soft and sweet little Spencer,” Diana patted her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for making him,” she laughed slightly. “He’s a wonderful man, I have a feeling you played a big role in that.”

Her smile was just like his. The smile of a mother, someone who was going to love him forever, maybe she’d love her too. Y/N felt a little emotional, this could be her family one day.

Chapter 8

There was a lot of information to process as she sat at the BAU round table.

Learning the entire plot of some women’s revenge against Spencer, just how much Wilkins and Lindsay were involved, the crazy scheme they planned and how terribly it would have ended if she wasn’t there.

Spencer, on the other hand, was visiting this Cat person in prison. The one who orchestrated it all, the one who was obsessed with Spencer, the love of her life, to the point she might be having his baby. He had some things to settle with her.

He was on edge before he left, going with Derek and JJ while Y/N stayed back with Diana. David Rossi had even offered to let them all stay at his guest house later that night, seeing as Spencer’s apartment was a crime scene.

Lindsay murdered Cassie, leaving her dead body on Spencer’s apartment floor. Ruining the place he was so desperate to return to.

She was a little out of it. Trying to think of everything that happened and everything she would have to do in the next few days. Compiling a list in her mind as the anxiety bubbled in her gut.

She needed a new job and a new place to live. First, she’d have to go back to Vermont to pack, and she’d have to find a way to support her boys on Parole. And Mike and Jerry.

She put her hands over her face and rested against the table. Overwhelmed with everything, her face still hurting, the lights were too much, she was tired.

Then she was crying softly.

“Hey,” Emily rubbed her back softly. “Shhh, it’s okay, what’s wrong Y/N?”

She sat up and wiped her eyes with a small laugh, embarrassed that her kinda ex-girlfriend was comforting her. “I’m stressed?” She answered, not even really sure herself.

Emily smiled while she nodded, looking so different now than she did back when they first met. Older, but in a beautiful way, gracefully becoming who she was always meant to be. “I get it, believe me.”

She remembered Derek saying she ‘died’ once. How they buried her casket and how pissed they were when they found out she was actually alive. Y/N only knew Emily re-born, as they called her.

She was always caring, always wanted to comfort and make people happy. It was the way she coped with hurting them all, but it carried on past the team. It carried on to strangers, victims, sometimes even unsub’s.

And most definitely Y/N.

There was a part of Y/N that wonders what loving Emily would have been like; if it would have felt half as good as loving Spencer. Or would it be better? She’d never really know, but she could imagine it would have been nice.

“How can we help?” Emily asked, still as wonderful as ever.

“I need a new job,” she laughed. “Can Penelope use her mad skills to find a reputable business in need of a doctor around here?”

“Are you moving back to Virginia?” She smiled at the thought.

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a smile growing on her face. “I’m kind of attached to Spencer now.”

“Good, maybe Derek can help you find a place, he has like, what 7? Right now that he’s fixing up?” Emily threw out ideas. “You’ll get the ball rolling soon, it’ll all be fine.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on him, I know you would never but, I was worried he had lost all hope and you never did. Thank you.”

Emily hugged her again, not saying anything. Y/N knew there was nothing to thank her for, this was a family. They would kill for each other if they needed to.

“Let’s go see Penelope,” Emily replied as she pulled away. Standing and extending a hand for Y/N.

The BAU offices were so interesting, many people running around to get jobs done before the end of the day as the main team chilled. It was like any other office she was in; controlled chaos and hierarchy.

Diana was sitting with Penelope in her office, flipping through a scrapbook while eating a jello cup. It made her smile to see it ran in the family.

“Hey,” Penelope cheered as she noticed them.

“I was just going to ask for some help with something, I see you’re busy,” Y/N awkwardly commented on the situation.

“Oh, we’re not,” Diana said. “I was showing her photos of Spencer. Would you like to see them?”

“I’d love to, um while I’m here, Penelope would you be willing to help me search for a good job?” She asked a lot mousier than Spencer would have if he was asking her for something.

“Of course, what are we looking for?” She wheeled to her main computer, cracking her knuckles as she got ready to look.

“Um, anyone hiring a GP close to here, I’m willing to go all the way to DC for work,” she explained. “I just want a place where I won't get punched again,” she tried to laugh at the trauma.

“The sanatarium is hiring, they’ve got good ratings and not a lot of patient complaints, they’re looking for a physician to care for the elderly members of the program,” Penelope explained as she clicked through screen after screen of info.

“That would be nice,” she smiled towards Diana. “Did you like the one you were at?”

“Oh yes,” Diana mused. “I had many friends there, I miss them and the social aspect. For a bunch of loons, I really loved the company.” She laughed at herself.

“I send the link to you,” Penelope smiled. “Now let me see his little baby bum again that one is my favourite, he’s so funny,” she leaned back in close to Diana.

All the pictures were priceless. Seeing Spencer grow up, page after page, every award and accomplishment displayed proudly. It made her miss her family, the love that a mother could bring to her life.

She got a little emotional, trying to nonchalantly wipe the tear off her cheek as she watched Diana flip a page.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly.

Y/N laughed, “yeah I just miss my mom.” She scrunched her nose so that the tears stayed in, waving her hand in front of her face as she tried to blink the tears back.

“Where is she?” An innocent question opening the floodgates.

“She had cancer,” Y/N cried softly. Not noticing as Emily and Penelope left the room. Giving them a space to bond.

“She died when I was 26,” she explained.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Diana placed her hand on Y/N’s back as she rubbed her softly. “Do you have any other family?”

“My moms are gay, well. After my mom died I stopped talking to her wife, yes she raised me but she hurt my mom too much for me to love her like a parent,” Y/N unloaded her trauma onto Diana, it must be genetic to find comfort in the Reids.

“Spencer never had a father either,” Diana related to her. “After William left it was just us, and Spencer stepped up to being the man of the house. He’s always been thrown into situations where he has no control but he needs to make the decisions. You’re probably the best person he could be with, he doesn’t have to take care of you.”

“Cause I baby him,” she laughed as she wiped stray tears off her cheeks. “He’s pretty wonderful, you did a fantastic job. Both of you did, look at the love you have. This is a perfect family.”

She gestured to the book of photos, seeing the love beaming off Diana’s face as she held a 12-year-old Spencer in her arms. Braces, on his face, thick glasses, long hair. He was adorable.

“You’re welcome to join,” Diana offered softly. “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

“Why didn’t you?” She asked softly.

“Why have more when you can stop at perfection,” she smiled, the same wonderful smile Spencer had.

“That he is,” she agreed. “Thank you for him.”

“Thank you, I mean it when I say you saved him,” Diana’s serious look making Y/N cry again.

“I know,” she cried. “And I’d do it again.”

In a heartbeat.

—

Rossi had 3 rooms ready for use in his guest house. Only 2 were ever used during their stay. They spent a few nights recovering together, helping Diana into a new routine for a few days while trying to just spend as much time as possible together out in the real world.

Rossi’s property was huge, never-ending even. He had lake access, ponds with ducks, fields and fields of long grass topped with flowers. It was like a dream getting to explore it together.

Happiness hit her like a freight train, smacking her in the chest and knocking the wind out of her.

She blinked and suddenly she had been waking up in Spencer’s arms for a week straight. Going on adventures together, waiting for him with a coffee outside his NA meetings, holding him all night long.

He had a hard time adjusting to a real bed again, it was too soft. He spent most of his time with his head on Y/N's chest, letting her rub his back slowly as she kissed his head, helping him drift off to sleep every single night. Causing her to fall deeper and deeper in love with him.

Every day beside him was a blessing, no longer was he a dog trapped in a cage. He was free, running with her through the fields like wild horses.

She woke up with him still snuggled into her, arm around her waist, legs tangled together, his face right in the crook of her neck. His hot breath on her skin being the thing that finally woke her up.

Absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair, eyes still closed as she woke up. Snuggling her cheek against the top of his head, causing him to pull her in tighter. Both of them slowly coming alive again.

“I love you,” her voice coarse from sleeping with her mouth open, dry as she licked her lips. It was the only thought that came to her mind. Not even realizing it was the first time she’s said it to him.

Spencer kissed her neck softly, “I love you.”

She couldn’t believe the happiness she was feeling, almost positive that even in her saddest moments she still loved him just this much. He was everything, even under all the scares and trauma, he was the most wonderful person in her whole world. And she was beyond blessed to be holding him in her arms.

The sun was barely up yet, having fallen asleep around 10 pm last night, they were up way earlier than they expected. It was so nice, the deep orange light of the morning sun creeping through the window behind the bed.

“Do you want to go watch the sun come up?” She asked softly.

“Yeah,” he nodded softly. Sitting up with her to get ready.

They put on track pants and sweaters and shoes, grabbing a few blankets and heading outside. A few minutes of walking behind Rossi’s house led them towards a beautiful little pond, they laid out 2 blankets over the dew-soaked grass before cuddling on top of it.

The birds were performing for them, the clouds were cleaning into the most beautiful morning blue sky she had ever seen. She couldn’t help herself from holding him tighter against the blanket.

The sun shined on the water, casting beautiful pinks and oranges across the surface as it stretched into the sky. A few ducks followed their mommas in the May morning breeze, quacking in agreement as they swam across the pond. Playing a game of following the leader.

It was a dream, she was sure of it. It was all too perfect to be real.

Including Spencer, he laid there softly underneath her, holding her against his chest as she appreciated the world around them. His attention only on her, even after being locked up for 3 months. He would always choose her.

“I’m so happy,” she said softly. “You make me so happy.”

He kissed her on the forehead, pushing her back against the blanket so he could kiss her whole face as she laid there. Smiling as she held his sides, letting him smother her in affection.

When he finally stops kissing her, he brushes her hair behind her ear. Cupping her face with one hand as he looks at her. The sun casting a vibrant glow on the both of them as they appreciated each other for a moment.

��I don’t know how I made it so long without you,” he finally speaks. “But I never want to do it again.”

“Move in with me?” She replied without a second thought. “I need to find a place here anyway, and I doubt you want to go back to your apartment.”

“I already asked Derek for the place he was fixing on Wilmont, it’s close to the sanatarium, mom wants to be social again,” he filled her in on his plans. “We just have to sign the lease.”

“We?” She teased him.

“I love you,” he reminded her.

“Good,” she smiled as she pulled him into another kiss. “Because I love you, too.”

Spending time with Spencer was intimacy in its purest form. It was a relationship built on trust, respect, and mutual love. It was the first time in her life she felt truly in love, not mesmerized by the idea of it.

She trusted him when he said that he loved her. She believed him when held her when he talked to her about his day or the most random things his mind could conjure. When he’d just hold her, enjoying her presence without wanting anything more than just her.

Chapter 9

They arrived in Vermont early on a Saturday morning, heading to her apartment to pack everything up. It was just the two of them this time, flying in together, half asleep at the break of dawn.

Only bringing 1 bag with her essentials for the next 2 days, hoping to pack her whole life into a truck and pray it arrived in Virginia okay.

And she got to show Spencer her space. A personal side of her that he had no idea about. He knew her mind, her feelings, her trauma, but he didn’t know what her personality was really like outside of loving him.

He was surprised by the amount of stuff she had. Wandering around her apartment quietly as she started taping boxes into shape.

Rented white walls enclosed the space when she moved in, not being able to paint them or anything felt wrong to her. So she covered them in photos, artwork and posters. Bringing the space to life with a touch of colour.

Mostly neons, having an affinity for green and purple accent pieces. Not a single shade of blue to be found, getting enough of that at work over the years.

She had plants everywhere, an old record player and a million different albums spread across the living room. Her bedroom was a mess, the closet was even worse. The kitchen would be easy to pack, it was the stuff on the walls she was worried about.

“I’m probably not getting my deposit back,” she laughed as she started taking the paintings down.

“I didn’t know you went to Harvard?” He points at her medical degree on the wall as she takes it down.

“Yeah, let me guess you’re a Yale guy?” She teased him.

He scoffed, nudging her arm lightly. “CalTech and MIT actually, Yale was my safety school.”

“Mine too,” she smiled.

Spencer stood beside her and watched for a minute, “what should I do?”

“Pick an area and pack the way you would if this was your place, I trust you won't break anything.”

“Okay,” he nodded, beginning stacking all her books on the kitchen table.

They worked well together, they knew that already. She put on music, they moved around each other freely. Occasionally singing the words and dancing around to the good ones. It was a lovely day to just open the windows and clean.

Hours passed, pizzas had been ordered and destroyed, boxes filled every corner of the space as her personality was completely ripped from the room. Soon it was just them, a couch and the record player.

She got up and walked into the bedroom to change, feeling sticky and gross from the day. Not expecting Spencer to follow and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Who knew packing boxes for 7 hours would make you so sweaty,” she jokes as she peels the shirt off her back. Standing in front of him in just her sports bra.

He turns away from her, making her laugh slightly. “Spencer, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” He asks as he turns back to look at her.

She nods softly, “do you want to shower with me?”

He’s speechless for a moment, staring at her with an open mouth, “yeah, yes sure.”

She can't help herself from laughing, taking his hand and pulling him into her tiny bathroom. She makes sure they both have a few towels, seeing him awkwardly stand by the door like he’s not allowed to move.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she reminded him. “Go as slow as you want.”

“I want to join you, but just to clean,” he made his decision.

“Alright, I have 3 different shampoos you can choose from,” she smiled, opening her cupboard and letting him pick. He smiled, appreciating how easily she made it a strictly business situation.

She took off her pants, watching him get undressed out of the corner of her eye. They had been much more intimate with each other already, getting naked in front of him shouldn’t have been as nerve-racking as it was.

She turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature with her foot. She took a deep breath and just took the sports bra off, freeing her boobs after a long day felt amazing, replacing the fear of Spencer seeing her for the first time. She dropped her underwear to the floor and stepped into the shower, waiting for him to do the same.

Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her, naked. She didn’t know how to act, just laughing and smiling at him. He did the same, it felt kinda crazy that they were standing in a shower, butt naked as the water pooled at their feet.

“You have to pull the thingy up,” she pointed at the bottom of the shower behind him. “It might be cold when it hits you, here pull it up and hide in the corner, like I do.”

He followed her instructions, pulling the small silver plug up to redirect the water from the tub faucet to the shower head. Cowering into the corner with her, their chests pressed together as the cold water hit his back, making him gasp as she laughed.

She wrapped her arms around him, leaning against the shower wall as she held him against her, “hi,” she whispered through her smile.

He kissed her quickly before backing up under the stream. She watched the water cover his hair, making it darker as it spread through the long locks. She watched it drip down his body softly, her eyes travelling down as it did.

He had a scar on his neck and all the bruising on his chest was long gone. His skin was so pretty, he only had a small amount of chest hair, but it was the collection of freckles all over capturing her gaze the most. She reached out and rested her hand on his chest, seeing his eyes open as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sorry,” she pulled her hand back.

“It’s okay,” he laughed slightly. “Here,” he reached behind her for the bar of soap, “if you want to touch me while I wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. Reaching for the loofa on the tap behind him, standing directly in his space as she did so.

They switched sides, slowly turning so he would be out of the spray of the shower head. He put shampoo in his hands and rubbed it through his hair while she watched quietly for a moment.

She rubbed the bar of soap against the fabric of the loofa, watching it foam up and fill the small space with a soft cucumber scent. Running it over his chest softly as he massaged his scalp. She was so soft with him, mesmerized by how lucky she was.

He was beautiful and soft. He wasn’t big and buff like Derek, he was just a normal man with a love for chocolate donuts and jello. She ran the loofa over his tummy as she smiled, loving everything about him.

Loving every part actually while trying to avoid both eye and physical contact with specific sections of him. Not knowing if he was okay, wanting to respect his space, and appreciating that he was doing the same with her.

He laughed when she ran it along his side, ticking his armpit as he tried to wash his hair, soap dripping down onto his eyebrow. She reached up and wiped it off his face so it wouldn’t go in his eye.

“Thanks,” he smiled.

“Switch?” She said as she guided him back under the water, his eyes still closed from the fear of getting soap in them. Scrunching his face up in the cutest way.

The water cascaded over his body, washing the soap down him as she watched, her hair not even close to being wet enough to wash yet. She just wanted to watch the show, to look at all of him and appreciate the moment.

He opened his eyes once all the soap was gone, his hair longer than ever as it laid flat behind his ears, he looked so funny without a big curly mop of hair on his head, remembering he said it used to be like this at one point.

“Your turn?” He offered, taking the loofa from her and reapplying the soap to it. “Can I?”

“Of course,” she answered as he slowly ran the material over her.

He was so gentle, she watched his face as he washed over her. Biting his bottom lip in concentration as he covered her chest, arms and stomach, “um,” he tried to speak, she knew what he wanted.

She took the loofa from him and replaced it with a bar of soap, “rub it in your hands for a sec, and then use them it’s easier.”

He did just that, lathering up his hands before he placed them directly on her breasts. She let out a sigh, bordering on a moan, as he held them in his hands, massaging the soap in carefully. Thumbs rubbing over her nipples as he made sure to not miss a spot.

She was in heaven, tossing her head back against the shower wall as he ran his hands over her more. Exploring her as she leaned against the wall.

Down her stomach, past her belly button, washing her hips before dropping to his knees. Using the bar of soap once more to wash over her legs as she stared at him, amazed by the bravery he was showing.

The water getting in his eyes down there, he stood and pushed his hair back out of his face as the water dropped to the floor, “turn around?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” she replied, turning to face the wall.

He ran his soapy hands all over her back, over her shoulders and arms. Paying special attention to her butt, which made her laugh, she was only a little ticklish there.

She was covered head to toe in bubbles, Spencer looked at her with a big grin on his face as he noticed his job was done. Helping her under the water to wash all the soap off.

She lifted her arms to run the water through her hair, feeling her boobs perk up as she did so. Spencer's attention being completely switched to her chest as he watched. “Pass me the gold shampoo bottle?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, grabbing it from behind himself and handing it back to her.

She stepped into his space, pouring the soap into her hand and rubbing it in. “They say if you lather it up it’ll apply easier,” she explained her little life hack as she rubbed her hands together.

Finally running her hands back through her hair in Spencer’s personal bubble. Her boobs pressing against his chest once again. He was breathing heavier as she watched him, hoping soap didn’t make its way into her eye and ruin the moment.

When she finally stepped back to wash the soap out of her hair, Spencer followed, pressing them together once more. Holding her by the waist as she continued to get the soap out.

Once the water ran clean, she rested her hands on Spencer's shoulders. Staring at him as the water ran down her back, his eyelashes covered in water droplets as he stared into her eyes.

He was beautiful like this, just himself.

“Are we ever going to be like a real couple?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean?”

He ran his wet hands over his back as he thought about it for a moment, “I would like to be with you, more than this, but-”

“You mean sex?” She smiled softly, trying her best to not tease him. It was a serious moment, but she loved him too much to see him struggle.

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I’ll react,” he admitted.

“Honey,” she cooed, rubbing her nose against his softly. “Sex doesn’t make us a real couple, first of all. And second, we have all the time in the world, so you take it as slow as you want. We can start little by little, I don’t mind waiting.”

“How do you mean?”

She smirked at him, “have you ever masturbated in the same room as someone else?”

He swallowed sharply, shaking his head softly, “no, have you?”

“No,” she whispered. “But it’s a small step. You can sit beside me, we touch ourselves, nothing overlaps unless you want it to. Ease into it. It would be another easy way to be comfortable with your body around me.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

She reached behind herself to turn the water off, tapping the silver plug with her foot to release the pressure, and stepping out of the shower finally.

—

They dried off, getting into their pj’s before laying on the couch in her empty living room. Listening to the Hozier album that was already sitting on the player and cuddling while their hair dried. Just enjoying each other's company, he was so soft and he smelled amazing, it was so nice to have him in her space.

“Did you still want to?” Spencer cut into the moment.

It made her smile against him, lifting her head off his chest as she went to stand up. “Come on,” she took his hand, helping him to his feet.

She pulled him in close, kissing his lips softly. Only planning to kiss him once, being drawn into his mouth as his hands wrapped around her back.

She held him in return, slowly making her way into the bedroom as they stayed connected, laughing as her back smacked the door frame and then at the way he fell into her bed with her on top.

Her music softly travelled in from the living area, they kept the lights off as they stripped out of their pants and got under the covers.

“How did you want to start?” She asked, turning to face him as she laid against the pillow.

“Can we just kiss for a while?”

“Absolutely,” she smiled, placing a hand on his cheek and leaning in.

She was laying slightly on top of him, holding his face in her hands as she kissed him. His tongue was soft, swirling with hers as they made out softly. He was very handsy, wanting to touch every single part of her once again like he didn’t get enough in the shower.

She spread her leg between his, sitting on his thigh as she rubbed against him. He bit her lip, squeezing her skin at the feeling. “I think I can do it,” he said softly.

“No,” she whispered, kissing his neck before getting off him. “I don’t want to hear I think. It’s a yes or it’s a no.”

“Okay,” he managed to bring reason back into his horny brain.

He took his shirt off, only in boxers beside her, tenting in them slightly. She took off her shirt as well, laying back against the pillow. He watched her breasts the whole time, licking his lips as he leaned on his side.

She ran a hand over her side, cupping her breast and tossing her head into the pillow more. “I’m starting without you,” she teased, her other hand slipping under the band of her underwear.

He laid on his back, bending his knees as he slipped his boxers off, she looked over at him with careful eyes. Genuinely curious about how beautiful he would look rock hard and begging for it.

She didn’t move her hand, just resting it under her underwear to entice him to start. She watched as he stroked himself softly, returning his attention to her smiling face.

She pushed her shirt and underwear off as well, scooting in closer to him so she was pressed against his side. Bending one knee so she could ghost her fingers over the folds as he watched her.

“I want to touch you,” he rushed the words out.

“Okay.”

He reached his left hand over, resting it on her hip before resting his hand on top of hers. She slipped it out from under his grasp, guiding his fingers to her clit as she stretched her legs further apart.

“Yeah, like that,” she encouraged him.

“W-would you?”

“Finish the sentence,” she instructed him. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Stroke me, I want it. Yes.”

She wrapped her fist around him, feeling his fingers swoop down to see how wet she was. “Oh,” she jerked her hips against his side, not expecting him to loop the wetness back up and rub her clit again.

He groaned as she stroked him faster, both of them staring at their own handiwork. She was fascinated with how big he was, being able to stroke up and down him so gracefully it was like she was always meant to. She licked her lips as she saw the pearl of precum drip out. Gathering it up with her thumb as she slid back down his length.

He was panting, trying to hold himself back as she kept jerking him off. Lightly touching her clit as all his attention focused on not cuming so soon.

“It’s okay honey,” she whispered in his ear.

Straddling his thigh then. His hand resting on her clit still as she ground down on him. “Is this okay?” She asked.

He nodded, “yes,” biting his lip so he didn’t explode right then and there.

He felt amazing on her, every time her hips ground down her clit rested right between his fingers perfectly to gain the perfect amount of friction back and forth.

She let herself go, bucking her hips and moaning as she stroked him with one hand. Resting the other behind her neck so he could look at her boobs perk up again, sending him so close to the edge he almost jumped out of his skin.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “C-an I?”

“Cum baby,” she gasped. Following her own instruction as she watched the cum burst from him, shooting up over her fist as she stroked him through it. Grinding against him as she whimpered, “fuck, I love you,” leaving her mouth.

Letting go of his dick as he started to whine, she dropped down against him with her face nestled into his neck.

She kissed him, over and over again. Peppering them against his skin for the best orgasm she has ever had.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against his skin as he came down from the high. His chest heaving as he tried to calm down, only picking up again when she heard the sob.

“Shhh,” she whispered against his skin, letting him hold her tighter against him as he cried. “I love you, honey, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

She felt the tears welling in her own eyes, overwhelmed with her feelings for him. “I love you so much Spencer,” she cried against his skin, the tears dripping down his neck slowly.

His hands ran over her back, they held each other while they cried.

Everything from the last week finally catching up with them both. They hadn’t taken a moment to talk about any of it, the fact he was even in prison or what happened after. They just moved on, pretending it was fine now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered finally.

“Me too,” he pressed his hand onto her cheek, freeing her from his neck as she sat up a little.

Both of them still gross from the sex, pressing sweaty foreheads together as they took a moment. “I’m so sorry,” she emphasized, “are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” he laughed at the absurdity. “I’m crying because I love you so much.”

“Really?” She laughed too.

He nodded softly. Kissing her nose as she pulled back to look at him better. “I want to touch you but,” she laughed at the mess on her hand and where she rested it on his chest. “Can we pause for one sec?” She couldn’t stop smiling.

The two of them continuing to laugh at the situation as they cleaned up in the bathroom, laughing even harder as she sat to pee like they had been married for a million years already, laughing the hardest when it came out in dribbles from all the laughing.

Going through every emotion in the book as they coped with the insanity together.

Once they were clean they crawled back into bed. Resuming almost the same position as she sat down on his lap, holding his face in her hands like she wanted to. Rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks as he pulled her in closer by her hips.

“Tell me what you’re feeling?” She whispered.

“I’m happy, you saved my life and I can’t believe I get to do this with you,” he explained softly, moving his hands on her back. He talked with his hands, not able to say anything without them moving.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known, Spencer,” she reassured him.

“Why?” He asked softly. “not in a pity party sense, I just want to know how you feel. You haven’t really told me, I’ve been waiting for you to open up, I thought maybe you were just like that because it was your job, but I want to know you more.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she bumped their noses together. “I don’t normally talk to people, even with Derek I’m really closed off. But I do trust you, and I want to, I just wanted to experience you when you’re free. I wanted to see if this overwhelming ache in my heart would dissipate as I was allowed to love you.”

She didn’t want to cry again. Blinking so the tears rolled back behind her eyes, licking her lips as her head tilted slightly. She just stared at his honey eyes, glossy and blown out. So absolutely beautiful.

“It got worse,” she laughed slightly. “I realized that now that you’re free you don’t have to see me every day, luckily you want to. But, now I think about losing you instead of keeping you safe.”

“Never,” he shook his head, face still cupped in her hands. “I’m never leaving you, you’re going to need a restraining order if you want to break up.”

She laughed, pushing the tears out, finally. Spencer kissed her cheeks, wiping the tears away with his lips. “Okay,” her voice broke as she tried not to cry anymore.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered. “You’re brave and kind, incredibly smart. You’re willing to do whatever it takes for the ones you love, you’re the only person I want to talk to every day.”

“I was going to say that about you,” she pressed their lips together finally, pushing him back against the headboard.

She laid her head on his shoulder, cuddling into him as she sat in his lap, “I have never loved anyone like this.”

“Me either,” he admitted as he pressed his cheek to her head. “Not even with Maeve, or Derek I know he told you.”

“And your mom,” she smiled. “She actually welcomed me to the family, said she always wanted a daughter. It’s nice to have a mom again.”

That broke him, he finally dropped the tuff boyfriend act he was putting up to hear her feelings, crying at his mother and the love of his life being close. She could tell he was a mamma’s boy, they had a bond Y/N wished she could have with someone. The closest she had to a Diana was Derek, as funny as that was.

She let him cry, not prying into it at all. Letting him take control of his emotions and the conversation. She ran her hands up and down his arm, soothing him softly as he held on to her.

“I was so scared,” is all Spencer says.

“I can imagine.”

“No, I mean about my mom,” he corrects her softly. “I thought the second she got her diagnosis that I ruined everything for her. She was going to forget me before I could even find a person to marry, let alone give her grandkids.

‘She was going to forget me,’ echoed in her mind as she wrapped her head around what he was saying. He was more terrified of losing his mother and missing time with her than he was about being in prison. He really put every ounce of his love into his family, it was beautiful.

“I applied to work at the sanatarium,” is how she answers. “They needed a GP and I need a job. This way I can see her every day, and you can go to work or teach or do whatever and know she’ll be okay. And old people seem nicer than cops and criminals.”

“I love you.”

She laughs, kissing his neck softly. “She’ll be okay, we’ll get her taken care of and who knows, maybe we’ll have more answers before a grandkid rolls around.”

It’s a risk, joking about having kids with him already. But she was ready for a life sentence with him, willing to stay in that god-awful prison as long as he was there. Including if he lost his case.

“You’re too good to me.”

“I try,” she smiled. “You’re pretty fantastic yourself, I didn’t just fall in love with your pretty face, sure you’re helpful and do what I say. But I love you because of what’s in here,” she ran her hand over his chest.

He just held her, silence encapsulating the room finally. The record stopped playing in the living room, no one was on the street at this time of night, the world stopped as she laid in his arms.

The Sunday morning sun was going to start coming up as she stayed up in his lap, both of them settling more against the pillow. She had no plans to get off him, he had no plans to separate from her loving embrace.

a/n: still working on an epilogue idk when it'll be done

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