#[trust in the all knowing eye] dr kyle

[ask-a-guard-dog]

Dr.Kyle how are you doing?

Dr. Kyle was doing quite a bit better, but he was still being held at the hospital due to... Instructions the hospital had received to not release him, and he was in general agreement about that. He was no good to anyone if he didn't recover from his stress induced injury and Stevie could handle watching the facility himself for a few more days.

Hopefully.

Hopefully it was just a few more days. He had a bad feeling about who was giving instructions to keep him there, but he'd play nice with the Foundation for now.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Summary: John and Kyle are gone. You have no choice but to lean on the alpha you've betrayed, the alpha that hates you.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,071 words

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, anxiety, reader has a panic attack and several breakdowns, Simon being mean, ANGST, depression, lots of mentions of vomiting and the reader does get sick quite a bit though it's not descriptive in any way, ANGST, heat cycles, pseudoscience, medical stuff (that's probably very wrong), brief mention of needles, medical procedures (nothing very detailed), ANGST, very heavy emotionally again, some very light fluff like barely there but nothing compared to the ANGST

A/N: I did it. I finally got it up. It's uh...it's a heavy one again, I'll tell you that much. You'll hate me even more but oh well. I expected that through this part of the story. I'm so evil I know.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“I don't like this. It's too...”

“Convenient?”

“Suspicious.”

“I know. But we don't have much of a choice in this.” John says, staring at Simon and Johnny. “You keep your eyes on her at all times. Stay in the barracks when you can. If you have to leave the barracks together, she goes with you.”

“We won't let her out of our sight.” Simon says. “If anything happens, Kate will be the first to know.”

“Good.” John says. He trusts the two of them to look after you. Yet he can't deny the timing of this is a bit suspicious. “We'll be back as soon as we can. Take good care of our girl.”

Two weeks. 

It’s been two weeks since John and Kyle left. 

Despite the fact it’s not the longest someone has been gone, it doesn’t ease the ache in your chest, the pain slowly carving its way into your very soul. You haven’t spoken to them. There’s been no word. Nothing. It could be a good thing. Sometimes no news is good news, and you suppose it’s better than a phone call saying they’ve died in some horrible accident. 

You keep waiting for that phone call. 

Every time Johnny or Simon’s phone rings, you begin to panic, fear eating away at that hole in your chest. It’s bad news, it’s Kate calling to tell them your alpha and beta aren’t coming home. 

You’ve hardly been able to relax, tense and jumpy at the littlest things. Being enclosed in the barracks at all times isn’t helping. You haven’t left once, not even to the med center. Dr. Keller has been coming to the barracks, more than she normally would for your appointments. You wonder if it was Johnny’s doing to try and help you relax, or Simon’s doing in hope you stop stinking up the barracks with the sour scent of nerves and fear. 

Simon has been distant still, avoiding you as much as he can. It’s impossible to avoid you completely, though, as Johnny can’t watch you 24/7. It’s a bit claustrophobic, the way they hover, always keeping one eye on you. It’s been a bit suffocating for the last three weeks, but with John and Kyle gone...it’s almost worse. 

Johnny has tried to fill that void, tried to support you in any way he can, but it hasn’t worked. You know it’s Johnny, you love Johnny, yet not even he can fill the void that has become your life without your alpha. 

You hate it. 

You hate their job, you hate that it takes them from you. You hate the uncertainty, the constant fear and worry that makes you sick. You hate that it’s dragged you into it. You know they were digging for the perpetrator of the cameras, who put them up, who ordered them to be put up, who potentially wanted to look into your personal life in such a violating way. The sudden deployment feels too suspicious, too sudden to be coincidence. 

But as John says, entertaining conspiracies won’t get you anywhere. 

Still...it smells fishy to you. 

The hole in your chest has left you in a constant state of uneasiness which has left you on the verge of tears constantly. Every day that passes without word of a tragedy or that they’re coming home makes your stomach churn, tears constantly brimming in your eyes. John’s shirt is constantly in your grasp, a dirty one you’d fished out of the bottom of his laundry basket, soaked in his scent. It’s beginning to fade, slowly eroding away until there won’t be anything left. Then you’ll grab another and another until you have none left. His room still smells like him, his pillows still fresh with his scent. 

You know it will fade, though, and fade fast. 

You’ve been avoiding spending too much time in his room and Kyle’s in favor of keeping their scents in there as long as possible. The fading of their scents is like an omen, marking a fading of their presence in your life, of the bond between you. The constant fear that you’ll forget them, what they sound like, what they smell like, what they look like. 

It makes you physically ill. 

That painful churning in your stomach is back as you sit on the couch in the rec room, curled up as far from Simon as you can get. Simon is still angry at you, at your betrayal of his trust. So much progress down the drain because you proved you’re not trustworthy after he trusted you enough to begin opening up. You still hate yourself for it, for keeping the secret for that long. Even a month would have been better and would have had less consequences for everyone. Maybe then you might have caught the camera in the bear sooner, and not been so violated during some of your most private moments. 

Some of those moments with Simon. 

How violated does he feel, having such vulnerable moments between you recorded and viewed by someone out there? You can’t help but think back to that night when he came back, and the morning after. Someone watched you. The bear had been right there, those black beady eyes staring right at the two of you. How many times had you fucked the others in your bed, the bear sitting there, watching, projecting those moments to whoever was on the other side. 

Your heat. 

The bear hadn’t been looking then, but it had been listening. It knows what happened, every last detail, every slam of the bed against the wall, every knot. 

It makes you sick. 

Your stomach churns, your arms wrapping around your middle as you let out a shaky breath. You’re going to puke again, the bile rising in your throat. The intense tingling in your hands is starting again, your fingers curling in as your extremities begin to go numb. You’re panicking again. 

Instead of vomit, a choked sob leaves your lips, your tears hot and burning on your cheeks, stinging like they’re composed of acid. 

Simon glances up from his phone, his face the mask of indifference that it has been for three weeks. A mask that he had worn for the first few months after your arrival. “What?” He asks, his tone flat and voice rough. 

You can’t answer him, too busy hyperventilating and sobbing where you sit. You can’t even think if you wanted to, your body aching as your muscles begin to tighten. You can’t distress. You’ve been fighting the urge since the day the truth came out. 

You can’t trust Simon to help you. 

You’re not even sure he knows how to. 

Of course, it would be easy to call Dr. Keller, get her to help him, but you’re not sure he’d want to. Could he be so angry and betrayed he’d just stand there and watch you distress yourself to death? 

He wouldn’t. He’d have to explain himself to John, why he let it happen. It would tear the pack apart. It would tear them apart. You wouldn’t put it past John to try and rip Simon’s throat out with his teeth in anger. It would be a bigger betrayal than yours, and Simon wouldn’t let you lose your spot at the top of that list. 

“Fuck.” Simon breathes, setting his phone down before moving in front of you. He lowers himself onto one knee, reaching for your arms. If you had been more aware you might have flinched away, but the lack of oxygen to your brain is making everything fuzzy. 

Simon grips your elbows, tugging you forward gently. Your legs are forced off the edge of the couch, your body upright as Simon holds your arms in his grasp, your legs between his as he kneels in front of you. You stare down at him, the sudden change in position shocking you for a moment. You choke around another sob, eyes blurry as you try to look at him. 

“I need you to breathe.” He says, squeezing your arms gently. 

You can’t. 

Your breaths are sobs, wracking your body, tearing at your lungs. Your chest hurts, aching and burning as you quickly begin spiraling out of control. 

“Look at me.” He says, shifting his hold to your wrists, taking them into one hand before he grabs your chin with the other. He keeps your head still, locked on his face. His eyes are blurry to your own teary ones as you look right at him, looking through the mass of blurry black that surrounds him. “Breathe.” He says, his voice rougher than normal, rumbling with the command of his alpha around the edges. 

It goes straight to your head, a shiver running down your spine. Your body shudders in response, your next sob catching painfully in your throat. You cough, lungs spasming as your body suddenly begins to follow his order automatically. Simon lets you go as you attempt to gain control over your out of control body. One part of your brain is still panicking, still pushing towards distress while the other fights to follow the alpha’s command. It’s a battle, your instincts at war with each other. 

The next inhale is a gasp, inhaling until your breath stutters and your lungs ache. You let it out slowly, the flood of oxygen making you shake in Simon’s hold. He keeps his hand around your wrists until your inhales stop stuttering and your muscles start to relax. 

He slowly releases you, pushing himself up to sit on the coffee table. You’re surprised it can hold so much weight after it’s been sat on so many times. Not even a creak as Simon lowers himself onto it. 

He rests his elbows on his knees as he stares at you. His figure begins to get clearer as your tears slow, no longer blurring your vision. You're expecting the sharp sting of his harsh gaze, or worse the indifference you've grown used to over the last three weeks. 

Instead there's a soft look in his eyes. Not soft as you would describe Johnny's, but soft compared to what it has been. Pity, you think. 

“You're a fucking mess.” He finally says. 

You laugh. You can't help it. The deadpan delivery of such a him statement in response to everything has a laugh escaping your lips. You wipe your eyes, sniffling. He hates it, hearing your sniffles. It annoys him when you cry, it always has. 

You push yourself back onto the couch, pulling your knees up again as you stare at him. There's a slight tremble to your fingers still as you sit there in silence for a moment. 

“I'm sorry.” You say, still looking at him. “If I had just said something sooner...” You swallow thickly as you stumble over your words. “None of us would have...the camera would have been found sooner...we wouldn't have...both of us...”

“You shouldn't apologize if you don't even know what to say.” He says, the softness in his gaze hardening again. 

“It's not that it's just...” You take a breath, trying to straighten out your thoughts. “I feel so guilty. This is all my fault and if I had just said something sooner, none of this would have happened. What happens next is my fault too. I know you and John have been digging into who is behind it and I know how risky that is. They know that we all know now, and...I'm scared of what might happen.”

You let out a long breath at your confession and attempt at an apology, squeezing your fingers together as they begin to tremble even more. You want to look away, his gaze piercing into you again. You're reminded of the moment the words had fallen from your lips that had caused this in the first place. Your heart begins thumping in your chest, your breathing picking up slightly at the memory. Will he get angry again? Will he snap at you and drag you down the hall to lock you in your room until John and Kyle get back, or Johnny calms him enough to rescue you?

“I feel so violated.” Your voice shakes. “I can't even imagine what it's been like for you. It took us so long to get to that point and...” You swallow the bile trying to rise in your throat. “I'm so sorry.” Tears blur your vision again. “I didn't know...I didn't think...I was so stupid.”

He scoffs. “You are.” His words are sharp, and they sting as they slice through you. “Fucking stupid, I'd say.” You wince at his words. “But you’re inexperienced. You don’t think about things like we do. No matter how much everyone has tried to drill it into your head, you’ll never truly understand until you experience it yourself.” He holds your gaze for a moment. “I hope you never have to.” 

You stare at him, the meaning of his words not lost on you. You’ve put yourself in danger, you’ve put all of them in danger by keeping this all a secret. Whoever put those cameras up knew you were keeping it a secret and hadn’t done anything in retaliation against you for finding them and destroying them. Maybe that was their plan all along. They knew you’d keep it a secret and use that to their advantage. Strike when they least expected it, or perhaps wait for the moment the truth inevitably came out and then strike. 

The thought has a cold chill running down your spine. 

You’re afraid for a different reason now. 

John and Kyle are gone. Anything could happen to them and it wouldn’t look suspicious. Or whoever put those cameras up wanted everyone split up. Attack when there’s less knights defending the castle. 

A shiver runs through you, making you curl in on yourself. The feeling of being watched is back. The darkness peeking out from around the blinds over the rec room windows suddenly feels very threatening. 

“What’s goin’ on in here?” 

A startled yelp leaves your lips as you whip around to face Johnny where he’s leaning against the door to the rec room. Simon’s body tenses in response to your fearful yelp, an unconscious motion he has no control over. Alphas will always have the drive to protect the omegas in their pack. It’s a natural protective mechanism, no matter how they may be feeling about said omega. 

Simon’s body relaxes as you do, putting a hand over your heart to try and calm yourself down again. 

“Jumpy this evenin’.” Johnny says, entering the rec room. He steps up to the couch, bending down to rest his hands on the arm next to you. “Didnae mean to scare ye.” He says softly. “Ready tae get to bed?” 

You nod. “Yeah. I am.” 

“Come on.” He holds out his hand and you take it, letting him help you up off the couch. “We’re usin’ yer shower, Si.” He says. 

Simon rolls his eyes. “Course.” 

“Simon?” You say before Johnny can pull you from the rec room. The alpha turns to look at you. “I am sorry.” 

He stares at you for a long, tense moment. “I know.” 

Johnny leads you down the hallway, his hand on your lower back. He’s gotten touchy again, letting his hand rest lower and lower on your back, brushing your breasts as he pulls the covers up around you at night. He refuses to let you shower without sitting on the toilet lid. You know the chances of Simon opening up like that again are slim, if at all. You’ve ruined that opportunity, and you’ll have to be satisfied with where he draws that line permanently. 

“Have a good conversation?” Johnny asks. 

You nod. “He called me ‘fucking stupid’.” 

Johnny nearly chokes for a second, covering his mouth to hide a laugh. “He’s certainly not a man of eloquence.” 

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t exactly disagree with him.” 

Johnny leads you into Simon’s room, steering you to the bathroom. Your stuff is already inside from the unanimous decision to solely use Simon’s bathroom for ease and also safety. 

Your towel is neatly on the rack next to Simon’s and Johnny’s, all folded the same way and hung evenly apart. Your soap and shampoo are neatly placed next to his, along with your toothbrush and other products on the sink. Always so neat and organized, despite his anger at you. 

Can’t break his system even after you break his trust. 

You pull your shirt over your head after starting the water, letting it get warm. Johnny stands behind you in the doorway, and you know he’s watching. You strip your shorts and underwear off, Johnny grunting quietly as you bend over to add them to your pile of dirty clothes. You’ve been tempted to leave them on the floor for the past two weeks just to peeve, but you’ve riled Simon up enough. With your luck he’d just toss them in the trash. 

The water is hot as it pelts your skin, your shoulders relaxing as it begins to loosen the stress of the day. The emptiness in your chest continues to eat away at you, never disappearing despite what happens. Your stomach churns, the nausea returning. You stand under the spray, letting the water pour over your head as you attempt to calm the continuous twisting in your abdomen. 

The shower door slides open, another body joining you before it slides closed. Warm skin presses against your back as arms slip around you, pulling you out from directly under the spray. You rest back against Johnny’s chest as he leans his cheek against the top of your head. 

“I miss them.” You say quietly, just audible over the shower. 

“I know.” Johnny says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“When will they be back?” You ask him, even though you know he can’t tell you. 

“Hard tae say.” He says, grabbing your strawberry scented soap from next to Simon’s. He’s just been using Simon’s soap, something you probably assume he does often anyway. “Kate will update us as soon as there’s a possible ETA.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can take.” You say as he begins to wash your back. 

“I know.” He says, gently massaging the knots in your back, trying to help you relax. “I wish I could get them home faster. I wish it had been us instead of them for your sake.” 

His words make you feel guilty, but you both know it’s not anyone’s fault. John is your alpha, you belong to him, you were claimed by him. You’ll always hurt more about your alpha and beta’s absence than the other members of your pack can comfort you. If Simon had claimed you, things would have been different. The ache in your chest would have been less intense as you would still have an alpha you could lean on. 

You’d always miss John, but if you had Simon, the black hole slowly devouring you would have slowed its progress. 

Four weeks. 

A month. 

It's been a month since John and Kyle left. The familiar hole in your chest has widened, a gaping black hole now threatening to swallow you and string you out until you’re nothing but particles lost in its center. It’s worse than the hole Simon left when he went on his solo deployment, it’s worse than the hole they all left when they went on their first mission. Neither of those previous deployments lasted this long, and despite Johnny's attempts to console you, you don’t feel any better. 

There’s been no contact. 

A month with no contact, a month with no word. You'd know if something had happened. Even if you got no word on it, you would know. That sense that omegas have when something happens to the bond would be screaming. 

It's been a rough four weeks.

There’s a heaviness that’s started to permeate the air as you try to adjust to the prolonged absence of your alpha. It’s nearly every day that you’re breaking down now, standing in John’s room to catch any whiff of him that’s left. You’ve worn the scent off his bed, his pillows, his clothes. You’ve run out of shirts that smell like him. 

You’re terrified they might fade from your memory entirely. Kyle’s scent had disappeared quicker, fading fast until you were left unable to even picture the sea. The beach is a blurry, distant memory, the smell of the salty air faded and wiped away. 

Still you cling to their shirts, as if you can hold them through the fabric. You carry them everywhere, packing them from room to room as you float around in a daze. 

You’ve left the barracks once in four weeks for a training session that neither of them could miss. You’d gotten looks as you sat there, the sole audience member, but you're not quite sure what had happened or even what the training was far. You had been far away, lost in your own head, the haze of depression and grief numbing you to everything. 

Dr. Keller continues to visit you in the barracks, still more than you normally would see her. You miss her office, the soft warmth of it, the plants and the colors lacking from the sterilized prison that is the barracks. It has become like a prison. You’re trapped inside, unable to even wander around alone. You feel like the princess locked in her tower under the watchful eye of the guards keeping her trapped inside. You need someone to come and rescue you, someone to set you free so you can at least wander the tower alone. 

You want your alpha. 

You miss John and Kyle desperately, their absence chewing away at your insides. The hole in your chest continues to widen as the days pass, consuming more and more of you as you slip deeper and deeper into the black hole of depression. Johnny is being affected too, sucked in by the gravitational pull of the black hole you have become. Even Simon is starting to feel it, softening a bit more towards you. He’d even let your hands brush a couple of times when he’s escorted you places, and he didn’t yank them away like you might pass some disease onto him. 

You wouldn’t necessarily call him affectionate, even before all of this, but this is the first glimpse you’ve gotten of him being back to where the two of you were before you fucked everything up. You know it’s not going to happen overnight. It might never get back to what it was. He might simply be acting out of sympathy, and out of necessity because of your pain and grief being channeled through the pack bonds. Sometimes you wonder if John and Kyle can feel it too from wherever they are in the world. 

You miss them so much it hurts. 

The tears slip down your cheeks as you sit on the couch in the rec room. Johnny is off taking his turn to work out. It’s early, the sky still grey outside, the perfect epitome of how you feel inside. Simon is seated in his usual spot, book in hand. Your own that he had grabbed is still on the coffee table. You’re staring at it, tears gliding down your cheeks as you hold your knees against your chest. It’s become almost a normal occurrence, the tears, the blank staring, the lack of desire to do anything, even the position you’re seated in.

Simon glances up at you as you sniffle again, lowering his book slightly. “What?” His tone isn't annoyed per se, but you know he has to be tired of your constant blubbering. 

“Tell me they’ll be alright.” You say, your voice shaking. 

“You know I can’t-” He starts, but you cut him off. 

“I need you to tell me.” You sob, your gaze lifting to the black screen of the TV. “I can’t take it. I can’t do this.” 

He lets out a sigh, closing his book. You jump as the couch sinks down on your left, Simon taking a seat next to you. The flinch is subconscious as he reaches over to grip your chin and turn your face to look at him. Your tears slide down your cheeks, wetting his fingers. 

“They’ll be alright.” He says, eyes hard as he looks at you. He’s lying but you need to hear it. “They’ve been gone for far longer than this before. Trust Price knows what he’s doing. He’s going to do everything in his power to come back. We’ll know if something happens. Laswell will let us know.” 

You know that, you know all of it. Yet it does little to calm the pain in your chest. “I miss them.” You sob, Simon’s eyes softening as you continue to cry. “My stomach hurts.” 

You’ve been nauseous since the day the truth came out almost five weeks ago. The nausea has been churning in your stomach, making you constantly on the edge of vomiting. It’s the stress, the combination of the truth coming out and your alpha being gone. You’ve been choking food down, eating only out of necessity. 

Simon lets out a sigh, releasing your chin to wrap an arm around you. His other hand drops to rest on your stomach. It’s warm through the fabric of your shirt, applying gentle pressure. He smells like alpha, different from John, but still an alpha. The tears continue to fall as he holds you, your body slowly leaning closer and closer to him. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even try to push you away as you fall against his side. 

Your stomach is churning, gnawing. It’s not an unusual feeling. It’s felt this way for the last few weeks. It’s never woken you up before, though. You blink in the darkness of Johnny’s room, his arm still thrown over you. The gnawing continues to intensify as you continue to be pulled from your semi-peaceful sleep, becoming more and more aware. 

You’re hungry. 

You slowly unravel yourself from Johnny’s snake-like hold, ready to slip into the rec room to peruse your snack stash. Instead you’re pulled back onto the bed by the arm that slips around your waist. 

“Where ye goin’?” Johnny rasps, still half asleep. 

“I’m hungry.” You whisper. 

He lets out a groan, letting go of you to rub a hand over his face. “Give me a minute.” 

You rise from the bed as he stretches, slowly sitting up as he draws himself from sleep. It’s just past one in the morning, neither of you having been asleep for long. You feel wide awake as the gnawing in your stomach continues to intensify. You rock back and forth on your feet, debating just going and letting him catch up. It’ll force him to wake up faster, and ease the gnawing hunger threatening to turn you inside out. 

Finally Johnny rises from the bed, stretching again as you impatiently open the door. He pads behind you to the rec room, watching as you dig out a bag of chips. He leans against the back of the couch as you stand there, devouring the chips like you haven’t eaten in days. You haven’t really eaten much in the last five weeks, so perhaps it’s finally catching up to you. You finish the bag but it’s not enough, so you grab another, devouring it halfway before you freeze. The bag begins to tremble in your hand, nearly falling from your grasp. 

Johnny is alert immediately as you begin to panic. “What?” He asks stepping closer to you, ready to defend you from whatever has you on edge. 

Your brain frantically does the math, thinking over the last few weeks. The bag falls to the floor as the realization slams into you like a bus. You turn to face Johnny, eyes wide in shock, fear shooting through you like lightning and clouding the rec room in the sour stench of omega fear.

Your lips tremble, the words stuttering out as you fight the panic rising in you, the nauseous churning of your stomach threatening to bring up the bag and a half of chips you just ate. Your fingers are shaking, clenching into fists again as they begin to go numb. Ragged breaths wheeze from your lungs as you stare at Johnny’s worried face, brows furrowed as he tries to understand what has you in a sudden panic at one in the morning. 

“My last heat was eleven weeks ago.” 

“The timeline is right,” Dr. Keller says, taking the blood pressure cuff off your arm. “The symptoms point to pre-heat.” 

You take another bite of your candy bar, eating half out of necessity and half because you’re nervous. You hadn’t even considered this when John left, but of course you didn’t know how long he would be gone. 

“Any word from John yet?” Dr. Keller asks as she packs the blood pressure monitor back into her bag. 

“None.” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Kate sent out a message, but there’s been no response.” 

You’re numb to that fact, the hope that had filled you two days ago gone now that there’s been no word, not even for something like this. Simon had gone out of his way to call you when you needed him, but John can’t even send a simple message through, even a simple no. 

“We may have to consider alternative options if he can’t get back in time.” Dr. Keller says. 

He won’t get back in time. They’re all saying it silently. They all know it and so do you.

Your hands close into fists. You had hoped with your new pack and alpha you wouldn’t have to go through this again. But, of course with them having to put their job first, this was always a possibility. It was bound to happen eventually, you just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. 

“We’ll wait as long as we can.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you. “We don’t have forever, though.” 

You shove the rest of the candybar in your mouth. You don’t want to say anything, you don’t want to do anything. You’re numb except for the incessant hunger. You’ll know when it’s getting close, when the hunger fades and you’re facing down the reality that your alpha won’t be here. You know he won’t. Even if Kate can get ahold of him, he won’t make it back in time. 

You’re going to have to do this alone. 

Well...perhaps not. 

Maybe there is someone that can help you after all. 

You’re terrified. You’re not sure how to even approach this, how to bring it up. It’s eating you alive, but you have to ask. You have to know. That small bubble of hope still rising in you that maybe, just maybe you can avoid the horror awaiting you. It’s a big request, but perhaps you can be convincing enough to play to his pity. 

“Simon?” You ask, your hands curled into fists so they’re not visibly shaking. Your hair is dripping onto your shirt, soaking it but you don’t care. The cold is keeping you aware, keeping you from floating away into your head again. 

He grunts, looking up from his phone. You’d used the shower in his room again so he could watch you while Johnny took his own shower. You won’t sleep in here. You’ll stay with Johnny just like you have for the last almost five weeks. It’s safer, should your heat start in the middle of the night again. And also because he doesn’t want you to stay with him.

This is stupid. It’s a stupid decision but you need to know. 

What if he says yes?  

“Can I...ask you something?” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. 

He pockets his phone before pushing himself up to stand. He towers over you as he moves closer, staring down at you as you look up at him. Sometimes you forget just how big he is, just how commanding his presence can be. You fight the urge to cower, to submit to him in fear. “What?” 

The nervous lump in your throat threatens to choke you, the memories of his anger directed right at you burning right through you. What if he gets mad again? What if he reacts the same way? You can’t know what he will do, though. You steady yourself, wrapping the fabric of your shirt around your hands. 

“Will...” You clear your throat. “Will you help me through my heat?” 

It’s a big request. A huge request. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’d kept up even before, something he’d never even suggested or hinted at wanting to do even before your last heat. You’re asking him to jump past barriers he’s put back up since your betrayal, making it clear you’re not welcome back in, you’re not going to get to where you were before. The most he’s done is let you lean against him that one night in the rec room. 

You hope maybe he’ll agree out of necessity, maybe he’ll take pity on you and save you from the horrors of going through a heat without an alpha. It may be stupid, but you’re terrified of what’s awaiting you if he doesn’t agree. You don’t want to do it, you don’t want to be put to sleep and then wake up a week later sick and disoriented, and then spend the next few days still in the same state. 

It makes your stomach churn, and not from hunger. 

His eyes widen in shock as your words register. His hands tighten into fists at his sides, his shoulders tensing. You fight the urge to flinch at the movement, the sudden hardening of his stance before you. He wasn’t expecting it, obviously. You came out of left field with it, but you have to ask. You’ll beg if you need to. You’ll get on your knees and beg like your life depends on it if he wants you to. Anything just to avoid what’s looming in the near future. 

His eyes harden as he stares down at you, and you suddenly begin to regret your decision to ask. His gaze is piercing, taking you back to when you confessed. You’ve made a mistake. You’ve made a huge mistake. 

“No.” 

The word is simple, two letters, one syllable, yet it slices right through you. You should have expected it, should have known that would be your answer, but it still hurts. He knows, he knows John isn’t coming back in time. He knows you’re going to have to do this alone. You had hoped maybe pity would push him into saying yes, maybe he’d open up a bit more before your heat started, maybe he might be merciful. 

“I can’t.” He takes a step back, then another. His gaze softens to what you almost perceive as panic. He shakes his head. “I can’t.” 

So maybe it wasn’t anger at you keeping him from agreeing. You can feel it, the edge to his scent starting to cloud it, the way his hands open and close as he squeezes them into fists over and over. 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at him, lifting your hands so they’re laced together in front of you. You knew that would be the answer, yet you can’t stop the disappointment. “Oh.” That's all you can say. You don’t trust yourself to say much else. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as Johnny appears in the doorway, looking between the two of you before his eyes settle on you. He can tell something happened, something transpired between the two of you while he was gone. How much of it he heard, you’re not sure. Perhaps none at all judging by the look on his face. 

“Ready for bed?” He asks, his gaze cautious. He’s trying to assess the situation, figure out what could have transpired to cause such a reaction between you and his alpha. He’ll never know. Not unless Simon tells him. 

“Yeah.” You breathe, scurrying out of Simon’s room before you can make more of a fool out of yourself. 

“H-How long will it take?” You ask, your heart thudding in your chest. Your pre-heat symptoms had stopped earlier this morning, the hunger gone, the itching beginning under your skin. 

“As soon as your temperature goes up, we’ll get started.” Dr. Keller says, sticking electrodes to your chest. You’ve already got the blood pressure cuff around your arm and pulse monitor on your finger. 

“Ye were prepared for this.” Johnny says, sitting next to the hospital bed. You’re in a private room, well away from any others, even though no one will know you’re in heat. There won’t be any scent projecting, no neediness, no aching. You won’t be aware at all that anything is happening as your body rapidly cycles through that sudden flood of hormones. 

Dr. Keller nods. “This was always a possibility, so I made sure I had everything on hand for when it did happen.” She takes your temperature again. “Tell me when you start to feel warm. The last thing I want to do is send you under too late.” 

Your skin crawls at her words, memories flashing back to the time you were put under too late. You trust Dr. Keller to take care of you, though. She’s far more competent and aware than that nurse had been. It’s her job to take care of you, to watch after you in moments like this. 

You just wish you could talk to John before you go under. 

You want to remember his voice when you come back out. 

“I’ll be here the whole time.” Johnny says, taking your hand, obviously sensing your discomfort. 

He’s brought a bag of things with him, since he’ll be staying with you for the few days it’ll take to get through your heat. It won’t be as long this time, your body being forced through those hormones quickly. It won’t even register it needs a knot, flying through those symptoms. 

The wait is the worst part. It takes forever, every minute seeming to take an hour. Johnny waits dutifully by your side. You wish this wasn’t the first heat he would be here for. You wish he had at least gotten some experience with a normal heat, just so this one wouldn’t scare him off. Even Kyle might have been shaken by it, though, even with his experience. 

Eventually the heat begins to prickle under your skin, your heart rate jumping. Johnny calls in Dr. Keller, looking nervous as sweat begins to bead on your forehead. 

“It’s time.” Dr. Keller says, taking your temperature. It’s jumped quickly, your body starting to prepare for the onslaught of hormones about to be released. 

She turns your arm, hooking up the IV that will deliver the sedative as well as fluids to keep you hydrated. The heart monitor beeps rapidly as you grow nervous, Johnny squeezing your hand gently. You know he’s trying, and there’s nothing more he can really do. There’s no stopping this. It’s going to happen no matter what. 

“I’m going to administer the sedative. You’ll start to feel sleepy.” Dr. Keller says. “I’ll put in the feeding tube after you’re out.”

You swallow nervously, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. “It’ll be okay right?” 

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile “You’ll be just fine. It’ll be a few days for us, but it’ll be a few seconds for you. It’ll be over before you know it.” 

You swallow nervously before nodding. Dr. Keller pushes the sedative through the IV, your body starting to relax as it begins to take effect. The itching under your skin stops, the heat fading as the ceiling gets further and further away as your vision tunnels. Johnny squeezing your hand is the last thing you remember before everything goes dark. 

He’s seen a lot of things, done a lot of things that would make the average person violently ill. He’s no stranger to blood and gore, yet he can’t watch as Dr. Keller inserts the feeding tube into your nose. The thought of having it in his own body makes him nearly gag, his eyes closing as he breathes. 

“I’m done.” Dr. Keller says, a small smile on her face as he turns back around. 

“About gart me boak.” He says, looking at you where you appear to be sleeping peacefully. He supposes you are, blissfully unaware of anything and everything around you.

“You’re not good with needles either, are you?” She asks, obviously noticing how he had turned away when she put in your IV. 

“Not my favorite.” He admits. 

“She’s all set.” She says, stepping back. “You’ll want to move her every few hours, turn her on one side, lift her legs up. Keeps her from getting bed sores or blood clots. I’ll be next door, and I’ll check on her periodically. If anything happens at night, I’ll have my phone on full volume.” 

“Thank ye, doctor.” He says, squeezing your hand despite the fact you can’t feel it. 

Dr. Keller takes her leave, the room going quiet aside from the beeping of the heart monitor, and the occasional buzzing of the blood pressure cuff as it tightens around your arm. He stares at you for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you sleep. It’s probably the most peaceful sleep you’ve gotten in the last few weeks, despite the changes happening internally. Dr. Keller had explained it to him, the hormonal changes, how sedation works differently than going through a heat consciously. Omegas do go through heat cycles awake and aware without an alpha sometimes. Institutes cycle between isolated heats and sedation. 

The thought of you going through both makes his stomach twist. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you lay there, something that will continue for the next few days, the doctor said. Your heart rate is higher than normal, another sign that you’re in your heat as your brain cycles through the sudden rush of hormones. He’s not quite sure what to expect, not quite sure what it’ll look like if something goes wrong. He’s never done this before, and the little research he’d done doesn’t feel all that helpful. Dr. Keller trusts him to know, though, and he supposes it’ll be pretty obvious should something go wrong. 

You’re not going to be doing much aside from laying there for the next few days. 

The hours seem to drag on and he can’t help but wonder if this is how Kyle feels during your heats. At least Kyle had a job to do, had to focus and listen for the breaks in between rounds when he’d go in, ensure nothing was wrong, nothing happened, that you’re being fed and taken care of. All he has is the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the occasional buzz and crinkling of nylon as the blood pressure cuff expands. Dr. Keller brings him meals, keeping him fed and occasionally keeps him company as he watches dutifully over you. His back is aching from the uncomfortable chair and the makeshift bed, but he can hardly complain. He’s slept on worse. 

He’s sketched a lot in the silence between watching videos on his phone and napping. It’s been a peaceful time, aside from his initial worry. You sleep away, sweat still beading on your forehead. Every so often he grabs a wet paper towel, wiping away the sweat. 

He jumps as his alarm on his phone goes off in the silence, his pencil falling to the floor. He picks it up, setting his sketchbook to the side before he gets up. He’s careful as he slips his arms under you, easing you over onto your side. He bends your legs, making sure you’re steady and not cutting off circulation anywhere. He runs a hand over your hair, the strands starting to slip out of the braid he had put in before your trip to the med center. 

He moves around to the other side of the bed, pulling the tie out before undoing the braid. He’s careful as he redoes it as best he can, making sure not to pull too tightly on the strands. The last thing you need when you wake up is to feel like your hair is being yanked out of your head. 

He ties off the braid before moving back to his seat, staring at your peaceful face for a moment. It’s nothing new to him, but he can’t help but stare. He’s seen you sleep many times, held you, watched you blissfully unaware of the world. The softness in your face, the worry and the stress and the weight on your shoulders of just being who you are gone. 

He picks his sketchbook back up, going back to drawing. 

His stomach churns nervously. There’s a subtle shake to his hands, something that doesn’t happen often. He likes to think he’s prepared for anything, conditioned enough to not be shaken by anything. Yet he can’t help but feel unsure as Dr. Keller closes off your IV. 

“She’ll be coming out of it soon.” Dr. Keller says. “She’ll be confused, disoriented. She might get combative. Your job is to talk to her, try to calm her and help ease her back into awareness. She’s a crier after heats, so I don’t doubt there will be tears. She may get sick as well.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be alright. Coming out of a heat is hard, and so is coming out of sedation. Both at the same time is always a struggle.” 

There was a time he thought maybe sedation would be the easiest way to deal with a heat, but from what he’s hearing, he might have been wrong. Sure it might be easier in the moment to not have those week long symptoms of intense desire, the fever, the desperation. Coming out of it though? From what he’s heard so far, it’s not as easy as it sounds. He’s been through it, coming out of sedation after an injury in the field. It’s a confusing feeling, disorienting enough before you find out days or weeks have passed. It’s hard to conceptualize without all those hormones going crazy in your head. 

You start to stir, your brows pinching as you slowly begin to wake. You let out a groan, reaching for the feeding tube immediately. Dr. Keller gently pushes your hands away, nodding to Johnny. Your brows furrow deeper, a groan leaving your lips as you begin to move more and more. 

“Easy, kitten.” He says, leaning down close to you, projecting his scent so you can hopefully get a whiff of it to help calm you. “I’ve got ye. Yer alright.” He brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead as you continue to groan. He takes your hand as you reach for the tube again, squeezing it gently.

You crack your eyes open for a moment before quickly pinching them shut. Dr. Keller reaches up, turning off the overhead light before leaning down close to you again. She’s projecting her natural beta scent as well to try and help calm you. “I’m going to remove the tube, I know it’s uncomfortable.” 

Johnny has to look away again as Dr. Keller removes the feeding tube, pressing his face into your hair as he projects his scent even more. You squeeze his hand back, the other gripping the side of the bed. You take in a harsh, gasping breath before you begin to cry, tears spilling out of your eyes as you sob. He had heard that you’re a crier after your heat from Kyle, he’s just never witnessed it before. 

It takes him back to just a few weeks ago in John’s office when you had sat there crying as they interrogated you. It had made him uneasy, the stress and the fear clouding your scent. The fear he’d felt in those moments, listening to you cry and panic, nearly sending yourself into distress before John had calmed you. He might have done more, but he had been angry, angry at whoever put those cameras in your room, and slightly at you for keeping it from them for so long. 

He can’t blame it completely on you, though. That had been back in the time where you still weren’t sure if you could trust them, before you fully opened yourself to them. Maybe they were slightly at fault for not making you feel like you could trust them, for not being realistic with you about the dangers. Sure you had been warned, had it drilled into your head why your safety was paramount, but maybe they had kept too much hidden from you. Maybe they had put you in more danger by trying to keep you safe. 

Your eyes are still pinched closed as you continue to cry, sobs wracking your body as you grip his hand tightly. It tugs at his chest as he whispers quietly against your hair, trying to get you to recognize him, pull you out of the confusion and disorientation you must be feeling. You begin to hyperventilate, your hand slipping from his as you try to push yourself up. Dr. Keller already has the bed lifting, her other hand holding a vomit bag in front of you. It seems almost instinctual, but she’s been through this many times before. She had told him how many during one of their talks, when he’d asked her how long she's been working with omegas. He hadn’t realized just how little he really knew about your doctor before now. 

Johnny has to look away as you vomit into the bag, his own stomach churning. Not just because of you being ill, but also because of how distressing this all seems. How you haven’t gone into distress is a miracle to him, but perhaps you’re still too out of it to be that aware. 

Your breathing has calmed just slightly, your forehead beaded with sweat. Dr. Keller removes the vomit bag from in front of you, grabbing another and setting it on your lap. 

“I’m going to dispose of this.” She says. “She’s going to be sick for a while. I’ll grab more fluids and I’ll be back shortly.” 

Johnny nods, wiping at the sweat on your brow. You lean into his touch, letting out a quiet whine. His touch is gentle, almost scared he might hurt you in your fragile state. You’re still crying, the tears cascading down your cheeks. His chest hurts, guilt and sorrow churning inside of him from seeing you in this state. All thought that sedation was the best option goes out the window as he holds the vomit bag for you, keeping your braid out of the way. 

Kyle had told him about what it was like during your heat and after, partially to feed his curiosity, but also in case something like this happened where he had to be the one taking care of you. He’d heard about the pain, the tears, the disorientation. This is different, though. This is far worse than what Kyle had described to him. 

Dr. Keller returns, IV bag in hand. She removes the empty bag and replaces it with the full one, hooking it up to your IV. You have to be thirsty after a few days of having nothing but a feeding tube and the fluids to keep you going during your fever. 

Johnny catches her hand as she pulls out a syringe, small enough to be discreet. Something tickles in the back of his mind as he stares at it, his instincts on edge. 

“What is that?” He asks, starting to get defensive, his metaphorical hackles rising.  

“Pain medicine.” She says simply, handing it to him. She has to be able to read him, sensing the sudden protectiveness wafting off of him. 

He takes the syringe, reading the label. Morphine. He feels silly for distrusting the doctor. She’s never proven herself untrustworthy. While he knows they can’t be too trusting of anyone, she’s never done you any harm, never given them a reason to suspect her. She wouldn't hurt you, not after the dedication he’s seen from her these last few days alone. 

“She might need it later once she’s more aware.” She continues, taking the syringe back when he hands it to her, putting it back in her pocket. “Her body just went through an intense hormonal cycle and those hormonal levels are now dropping suddenly. It can cause a wide range of symptoms from crying to illness to physical pain. When omegas are allowed to go through that cycle naturally, usually with an alpha, the symptoms of coming down from that cycle are typically less severe compared to when sedation is used, of course besides the physical pain. The pain with sedation is obviously quite different from the pain when the cycle happens naturally with an alpha.” 

Johnny’s brows furrow as he rests his hand over yours, your breaths stuttering through your sobs. Your hands are clutching at the blanket, one of yours he’d grabbed from your room in hopes the familiar comfort might help you through the process. He hates that you’re in pain like this, he hates that you’re in pain at all. He’s beginning to feel the bubbling anger deep in his stomach at Simon for letting you endure this. He has no idea. He’s isolated himself for your safety, and he’ll never get to see what this is like, what you’re going through right now. 

Dr. Keller says your name softly, leaning against the side of the bed, electing to ignore the swirling emotions of her fellow beta. He’s not her concern, you are. “Can you open your eyes for me?” 

You continue to cry, but you manage to get your eyes opened, squinting at her through your tears. Dr. Keller takes your face in her hands, using her thumbs to gently pull down your lower lids, trying to get a good look at your eyes. You try to jerk away, letting out possibly the cutest defiant sound Johnny has ever heard, and he might have reacted had it been a different situation. Instead he leans over the side of the bed again, talking to you quietly so you calm a bit. You do relax at the sound of his voice, his scent projecting even more to try and comfort you, bring you back into reality. 

“There we go.” Dr. Keller says, looking at your eyes before she gives you a soft smile. “Welcome back.” She removes her hands from your face leaning against the bed rail again. “It's all over. You did perfectly.”

You let out another groan, lifting a hand weakly before letting it drop back against your stomach. 

“I know you're thirsty.” Dr. Keller says. “I'll get you some soon. We need to make sure your stomach has settled for now.” 

Your eyes squeeze closed as you start to cry again, your inhales shaky as the tears start sliding down your cheeks. Johnny shushes you gently, petting your hair. Sweat still drips down your face, your hands curling around the edge of the blanket. 

You try to push yourself up to sit, Dr. Keller immediately understanding what you need again as she lifts the vomit bag up to your mouth.

Johnny peels your hand from around the blanket, holding it tightly. His own stomach is churning but he swallows it back, bringing your hand up to his face. He kisses the back, the skin clammy and warm to the touch. Your scent is a swirl of things he’s never smelled before, drowning out the natural sweetness. Kyle had mentioned how your scent and John’s change during the heat and after. He hardly recognizes it right now, and he finds himself missing the sweet scent of strawberries. 

Your fingers squeeze around his as you lay back against the bed, eyes cracked open and sniffling as the tears continue to slide down your cheeks. You let out a groan, tugging weakly at his hand. 

“Hi kitten.” He says, leaning over the bed rail again. “Yer alright. Get ye feeling better soon.” 

Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest. You weakly tug his hand towards your face pressing your sweaty cheek against his skin. You nuzzle against his hand, your tongue darting out to lick his skin. He can't help but chuckle, wiping at a tear that falls with his thumb. You’re still out of it, but he knows that’s a sign that you’re starting to come through, starting to come back to yourself through the haze. 

You let out a long groan as you pull away from his hand, licking at your lips. They're horribly chapped, almost rivaling Simon's, but at least you have an excuse.

“Thirsty?” Dr. Keller asks, returning to the bedside with a cup of water. “Drink slowly, you'll get sick again.” She warns, holding the straw up to your lips. 

You manage to do as she says and take small sips of the water despite how thirsty he knows you must be. Johnny keeps caressing your face with his thumb, your fingers still laced with his. 

“Let me get your vitals.” Dr. Keller says, setting the cup of water on the table. You let out a groan in protest, smacking your lips, obviously wanting more. “You can have more in a minute. Too much on your stomach could upset it, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do right now is get sick again.”

You let out a quiet grunt, leaning your cheek against his hand once again. Your skin is still a bit warm to the touch, but that could just be from the exertion of trying to come out of sedation and being sick. Dr. Keller takes your vitals once more, recording them on her sheet. She’s been tracking them your entire heat, using them to judge how far along you are since she doesn’t have the benefit of you being awake to track the symptoms that way. He had wondered why she tracked them on paper, but then he remembered John telling him about how Shepherd had requested all of your private records and Dr. Keller’s notes. 

She is smart. He’ll give her that. 

“Things look good, even if you might not feel like it right now.” She says.

You try to shift on the bed but you let out a quiet groan, freeing your hand from his. 

“Hurting?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod, letting out a whine. It tickles in the back of his brain, his beta wanting to reach out and comfort you, but he knows he can’t. He can’t ease the physical pain. One downside to beta evolution. Their ancestors never learned how to fix physical pain. Maybe that would have made them too perfect. All he can do is try to comfort you through it. 

“Let's get some pain meds in you.” She says, pulling the syringe out of her pocket again. “Then we can get you somewhere more comfortable.”

She injects the pain medicine through your IV, giving it a few minutes to begin working before disconnecting you from all the machines. Johnny helps her get you in a sweatshirt, wanting to keep you warm. You are shaking, though what that might be related to he’s not sure. Perhaps everything. 

Dr. Keller hands him the cup of water. “Keep her drinking. I'll go grab a car, then we can get her back to the barracks.” 

You feel far too light in Johnny’s arms as he carries you from the car into the barracks. Simon is nowhere to be seen, though he hadn’t expected a welcome back party from his alpha. He’s probably still hiding out in his office, or in the gym, his usual hiding spot. Johnny is kind of glad he’s not here, though he would like to rub it in his face, the decision he’d made. 

Johnny takes you to his room, still avoiding yours. It’s almost like a crime scene, Johnny tempted to take it off. He knows placing you in there might make you panic when you wake up after everything. That’s the last thing he wants. So instead he takes you to the place you’ve spent the last almost six weeks in, somewhere you’ll recognize the scent and be comfortable when you wake up. 

You roll onto your side as soon as he lays you down, curling up on his blankets. He drapes yours over you, tucking it around your shoulders before he steps back out into the hallway. 

“Keep her hydrated. Lots of water, tea, clear sodas.” Dr. Keller instructs him. “She'll be drowsy for a while because of the pain medicine. Give her a couple hours and once the pain meds wear off and her stomach settles a bit, try her with some bland foods. She did well with mashed potatoes after her last heat. She’s going to be out of it and sick for a few days. Keep an eye out for anything abnormal. Vomiting blood, can’t keep food down, if she complains about pain somewhere or is hard to wake, give me a call.” 

“Got it.” Johnny nods, committing everything she’s told him in the last ten minutes to memory. 

“You did really well.” She says, giving him a soft smile. “You should be proud of yourself.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” He nods, internally beaming at her praise. 

“Keep me updated, and don’t be afraid to call.” She says. 

He watches her walk to the door, Simon’s door opening as soon as she’s gone. He at least looks guilty, like the shame is eating him alive. Johnny hasn’t seen him like this in a long time, not since he caused you to distress. It makes him a little too happy to see him in such a state. 

“How is she?” He asks, not moving from in front of his door. 

The sound of you vomiting into a vomit bag reaches their ears. Simon at least has the decency to flinch at the sound. It’s subtle, probably unnoticeable had Johnny not been able to read his alpha like a book. 

“Sick.” He says, trying to hide his anger and disappointment. They’re complex feelings. He knew Simon would turn you down if you asked for his own reasons, but now after seeing what happens when there’s no alpha available during a heat, he almost hates Simon for doing this to you. “Confused. Still a bit out of it.” 

“You know I couldn’t do it.” Simon says, using that uncanny ability to read everyone around him. 

Johnny hates it sometimes.

He turns to glance at you through his open door as you continue to be sick. You’re going to be miserable for the next few days, likely more than you are usually after your heats. This one will be less physical pain after taking knots for a week straight, and more pain from being sedated, pain from being mostly immobile, pain from just being alive and carrying this status. Such pain omegas live with, physically, mentally, emotionally. 

He hates it. 

“Ye don’t know what it was like.” He says, his hands closing into fists. “Seeing her like that.” 

You let out a long whine, a sob tearing from your chest as you inhale. Tears prick behind Johnny’s eyes as he holds Simon’s gaze. “Ye just had to say no.” He shakes his head, turning to go back into his room. 

He doesn't want to tell you. He can see the look on your face already. The disappointment. The pain. The agony. He can smell the souring of your scent already, the painful grief filling it and there will be nothing he can do to ease it. It's a rare moment they've left you alone in the last month and a half, forced to after a call with Kate and Shepherd.

He's not even sure how to approach it. 

He opens his bedroom door slowly, his stomach clenching as he looks in at you. You're on the bed, wrapped in a blanket where he left you, cuddled against your big bear. He doesn't want to wake you, especially not for this but he has to. He has no choice. You have to know. 

He lets out a sigh as he sinks down on the edge of his bed, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. “Kitten?” He shakes you gently. “Kitten, wake up.”

You inhale sharply, startling awake despite his attempt to be gentle. There’s a sharp spike of fear in your scent for a moment as you’re yanked from sleep suddenly, but it fades as soon as you realize where you are and who is with you. You turn over onto your back, winding up resting against his knee as you rub your eyes. 

“Johnny?” You croak, still partly asleep. 

“Si and I just got off a call with Kate.” He says carefully, not wanting to scare you too much. 

You're wide awake immediately, pushing yourself up to sit. You swallow nervously, your scent already souring. “What is it?” Your voice wavers as you ask, eyes already shining with tears. 

“John and Kyle are fine.” He says, regretting not starting with that. He can see the temporary relief on your face. “But, they need some backup for this one.” 

It takes a moment for your brain to process his words. A hole tears through the center of his chest as he watches the realization hit, your face falling as your scent begins to sour even more. Your arms wrap around yourself as you stare at him, the relief gone from your face as you stare at him. He swallows the lump in his own throat, your scent causing his beta to stir, the drive to comfort you itching in his brain. He can’t though, he can’t comfort you through this. 

Your voice shakes, a tear sliding down your cheek as you figure out what it is he woke you to say, why Kate had called. Your inhale is shaky, catching in your chest before you speak. 

“You're both leaving too, aren’t you.” 

NEXT ->

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch2

Description- the second chapter! I don’t know if I warned y’all that it’s gonna be the slowest of slow burns. You’re welcome! Anyway, Laika meets the 141 in this chapter and she is terrified of them all! Poor girl. Of course, sweet, handsome Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick is the first to gain her trust. 🫶🏼

(Cont from Ch1 - link below)

I stand in a sort of semi-shocked state, just staring at the man. It was probably only for two seconds before he moved and shook me from my stupor, but it felt like time had frozen. I make a dive for the door and have almost made it through before I hear Dr Dimitrov's voice bellow down the hallway. I then feel a rough arm wrap around my waist and a hand cover my mouth. He whispers harshly in my ear "must'a been hiding like a little mouse in here" shaking me slightly to make me move with him into a better defensive position against the incoming tide of guards. I start rapidly shaking my head, trying to fight against his tight hold on my mouth. My eyes wide and terrified.

"Sit still, lass. You'll get us both in trouble." My eyes flash towards his as he starts tying my wrists with a makeshift bandage wrap to keep me secure. "You'll stay behind me - d'ya speak english, lass?". I nod my head. Obedience gets rewarded. That's what I had learnt over the years in this facility.

"You a hostage?" - I shake my head, no.

"Are ya' one of them..?" - my eyes must give me away. Technically, yes, I am one of 'them', but do I want to be? No, I do not. I just stare back at him. His eyes narrow, eyeing me with suspision now.

Dr Dimitrov's voice grows louder, as does the crashing of cell doors and the shouts of "CLEAR" from the guards. The sound of gun shots crashes to life. I’m shaking like a lead. All of a sudden the man's radio crackles. It's the smooth voice again.

"Soap - careful, they're looking for the asset. He's dangerous. Get out of there and clear the area. We have the hallway covered. Over."

He pushes me further back and keeps his large hand tightly around my lower face, squeezing tightly, almost to the point of pain.

"Bit of an issue, Gaz. Found a little lass in a cell. No sign of the asset though. Leaving in five - cover me." I shake my head against his grip. I wanted to tell him. It's me they're after. It's me. I'm the asset. But I'm scared. And obedient. I don't bite. Yes, I am a trained asset with lots of kills to my name, but I don't bite. Before I have time to say anything, I'm shunted by the large man, pushed forward toward the door. Bullets fly - metal and glass shatters and clangs. Everything is blurry. Numb. Apart from the tight hold on my upper arm. Warm. Bruising.

We clear the hallway without too much issue. I'm pushed into another corridor and shoved again to keep me running, faster than I thought I could run with my wrists tightly tied. I gasp, deciding now is as good a time as any, now he hasn't got my mouth covered.

"It's me they want" I breathe

"No, they want the asset. Stay quiet, Lass. We will figure out who you are later." he says roughly.

I shake my head again. "It's me. I'm their asset. They won't stop chasing me. I'm the last one.. Just-"

He cuts me off, shouting into the radio. "I've got the asset. What do I do now?"

"Just shoot me" I whisper. His eyes flash to me over the crackle of his radio.

"Bring him to the exfil point. Is he alive? Over."

"Alive. And She.. He's a she. Over".

The radio goes silent.

"Please. Shoot me. I'm a monster.. Please."

My mouth is covered with another makeshift piece of cloth, fashioned into a gag. I'm pulled off the floor and roughly thrown over his shoulder.

"Shut it, Lass. If I had known you were the asset, you'd be dead already. But orders are orders" He grunts, angrily. A noise escapes my throat, a whine.

The sound of bullets flying begins to dull, the corridors open up to a door - a door that I had never seen before as I had always been transported with a sack over my head. My stomach is sore, his shoulder digs in with every stride he takes. My eyes start to leak. I close my eyes and just sniffle. Weak. Hopeless, again. Not that I ever stopped feeling hopeless in the first place. But, yeah..

I am uncerimoneously slung to the ground and I groan quietly before looking up at the man who had delivered me to whatever fate I now face. He stares back. Blue eyes, dark hair styled in a strange sort of grown out mohawk. Unusual for a soldier. He looks suspicious, or curious. I can't tell. I hadn't been studied like this for a long time. I am utterly predictable to my captors. They knew my triggers and my commands. 'Laika sit, Laika move, Laika shoot, Laika kill, Laika - lick your own wounds, Laika - cage! Bad Laika.'

Every miniscule movement I make is studied by the man with strange hair and blue eyes. I stare back at him with big, wet, sad eyes. I hate being gagged like this, hate being restrained. They do this to me when I am punished for disobedience. He tutts at me. It's a surprising noise to hear coming from him when he had just told me that he would have killed me quicker if he had known it was me.

"Asset secure at exfil point. How far out are you? Over."

"Two minutes, Soap." The reply crackles back.

I continue to stare at him. Two minutes till I'm either killed or tortured. I start to count down. Death would be the best option, but I doubt it would be that easy. I close my eyes and lower my head. I give up. Surrender to whatever is going to happen to me.

I hear three sets of boots approach and smell the thick scent of Alpha. I don't dare open my eyes. I just sniffle quietly with my head down, leaning against the wall where the man with strange hair had dropped me.

"Fuck Soap, is that the asset?"

"Aye, Apparently.."

"Did she put up much fight? We were told she's dangerous."

"Quiet as a wee mouse.."

"You sure it's her.. how do you know..?"

"She said it wis her.. wanted me tae shoot her"

The man, 'Soap', is interrogated by his team. I finally find it in me to open my eyes. I wish I hadn't. I'm surrounded by four massive Alphas, armed up to the eyeballs, all staring down at me. I flinch. I inhale sharply as one of them, with unusual facial hair and a floppy hat, steps forward. I try to shuffle away before a surspisingly gentle hand falls on to my shin, just below my knee.

"Captain John Price.." he nods in greeting. He has a rough voice.

I look down at the ground and try not to shake. He tutts. Why do people keep tutting at me?

The Captain glances back at the others. "Johnny, this ain't no asset. Get the gag and arm restraints off of her. She speak English?"

"Aye Captain, she does. She told me she wis the last one.."

"Can't be. Not this little thing. She doesn't look like she could harm a fly. What is she, Omega?" He sniffs the air, being unusually respectful - usually Alphas just stuck their nose in my neck and inhaled. "Hmm, no scent. Beta." He concludes.

Soap rushes forward to untie me and I flinch away from him. He steadies his approach but tries to grab my wrists again, I dodge his hands again. A smooth voice, the one I recognise from the radio, pipes up.

"Fuck sake, Johnny. You've scared her. C'mon, let me do it."

He steps forward as Soap, or Johnny, retreats. The Captain steps back too.

"It's okay, just going to get these off. Can I touch you?" The man asks softly.

I stare at him with wide eyes before glancing back up at the others in the team. The Captain seemed trustworthy. Fair. Soap, or Johnny, seemed sharp and unpredictable. This one seems calmer, kinder. Looking at him, I find deep brown eyes with vast softness to his expression. He has kind and honest eyes. My head nods. He steps forward again and slowly lowers himself to my level on the ground. He gently takes my wrists and starts removing the restraints. "You aren't going to try anything once these come off?" He hesitates. I shake my head, no. He then nods and removes them completely.

"Ok, now this.. lean forward so I can get the knot at the back of your head". Obedience is rewarded, my brain recalls. I do as I'm told and lean forward, exposing my scent glands in the process due to the position I am in. He respectfully places his hand on the back of my neck and unties the knot, letting the gag fall free.

"There you go, now.. What is your name?" He asks as he stands up slowly and steps one step away to give me space. I stare up at him and answer his question nervously. "L-Laika..?" I sort of question my own answer, not sure what they were wanting to hear.

He looks round at the others and the Captain beckons him over to the others. "Gaz- here a minute" he calls. Gaz obeys and leaves me with a small smile, I just stare back at him. I watch him walk away from me and glance around, trying to think of my options.

It’s only then that I clock the absolute behemoth of a man with a skull mask. He was terrifying, something from nightmares. I find myself shuffling away from the group. Of course, he is the one who notices my movement and quickly makes a move to stop me.

I release a hollow yelp and leap from my position on the floor. I quickly weigh up my options, there is no point of running from him, he would catch me in three strides, no point of fighting him, he is huge and armed. I do the next thing my stupid brain thinks to do and run and hide behind the kind one, Gaz, I think. He looks just as confused as the others. The scary one stops his approach immediately and stands seperated from the group.

"Thought she was about to leg it." he explains to the others in a voice I can only describe as a growl, rough as gravel. He is terrifying.

I whimper from my hiding spot as he continues to stare at me though his mask. Brown eyes, but not kind - his were hard. Gaz slowly turns to face me, as to not startle me again, he lifts his hand and gently touches my arm to try and comfort me - I remove it from his reach. "Sorry, sorry - look, we aren't going to hurt you, okay? I'm not asking you to trust us but we have a lot to talk about. We need to figure out who you are" he explains softly.

"I'm the asset" I say, "They - they call me Laika." His deep brown eyes don't ever leave mine, I feel a fleeting sense of safety staring back at him.

"If you're the asset, we need to take you back and ask questions. You understand that, yeah?" I nod. I then find myself spilling information before I can think of what I am saying.

“It was me.. the other two assets died. I - I killed lots of people but I was told they were bad. They punished me if I disobeyed, if I didn't complete the objectives correctly.." my voice wobbles.

His gaze leaves mine and looks towards his Captain. "Cap.. what -" he is interupted by his Captain.

“We move out. Gaz, she is with you. She obviously trusts you most. We figure this mess out back at base" the pack leader orders.

They all start to move and Gaz turns back to me. "C'mon, stay close to me. I won't let anything happen to you". I scurry behind him. He doesn't say anything but his inner Alpha preens thanks to the fact he is the one you trust.

We turn a couple of street corners and arrive at a black jeep. The Captain jumps into the drivers seat, the masked man in the passenger seat. I pause. Gaz obviously senses my insecurity.

"Would you rather sit in the middle between us" he glances and nods towards Soap "or.. I can sit in the middle so it's just me.." he asks. I stand in silence, shocked that he actually asked what I was comfortable with. I hadn't been asked for my consent for years and it had happened twice with him in the last ten minutes. He was a kind Alpha.

“J-just you… please" I respond nervously. He nods sympathetically and gets in the car, patting the seat next to him for me. Soap climbs into the seat beside Gaz on the other side of the jeep.

I step into the car and close the door behind me. I feel surrounded and claustraphobic. In the small space of the car, the scent of all four men mix and mingles together. It almost burns the back of my throat. This is strange. I'm not usually sensitive to other designations thanks to the supressants.

I notice, as I shuffle in my seat, that the scary one with the mask is seated directly infront of me. Gaz notices, ever observant of my smallest of tells. "It's fine. None of us will try anything. We aren't feral Alpha pieces of shit, okay?" I slowly nod my head "Ok" I whisper.

He smiles at me. I almost smile back.

[bouncyballcitadel]

"Chance Encounter" - A Short Snippet

For raffle winner @riseandshine-pudgey. Vic and Dr. Sloan end up in the same restaurant.

You are not a social person.

You hate parties, you hate crowds. If it were up to you, you'd stay at home - try out new pasta recipes, drink a glass of wine. Small talk is your anathema. Running into coworkers outside of the hospital - the bane of your existence.

Precisely why you eat at Christine's on Mondays. Christine's is already a hole-in-the-wall, which is to your advantage. And, let's be honest - no one goes out to eat on a Monday. This ends up being a perfect combination for you, your very own date night: a tiny pocket of time that's wholly your own.

Just you, a glass of red, and a plate of truffle gnocchi.

Bliss.

...Except today.

Because today, just before you're about to spear your first gnocchi, the bell above the door jingles. And in she walks - none other than Dr. Ivy Sloan.

You're pretty sure Dr. Sloan doesn't think about you. And you don't think about her either. Ever since the...spat you got into your first year, the two of you have stayed in separate orbits. You weren't going to change for her, and she had given up on changing you. You were never going to be the warm and fuzzy type, the type to pull up a chair, to hold someone's hand. You weren't a heartless bastard - you just...didn't believe in adornments.

Competence. Skill. Drive.

Those are the skills you've cultivated during your training. And...fine, you've smoothed out some of your rougher edges too, if only to appease the powers that be.

As you watch Dr. Sloan take a seat at the other end of the room, you fight the urge to shift in your seat. You know she'll see you eventually - you're not exactly short - but you want to delay the moment as much as possible. Once she sees you, once the two of you mutually acknowledge each other's existence, any sense of privacy on your end will be lost. You know, inevitably, that you'll feel perceived. That your chances of enjoying your truffle gnocchi and your glass of red wine at ease will infinitely diminish.

If only it were anyone else. If it were Jay, for example - he'd probably sit with you, but you could tolerate that. Or, if it were Dr. Saxon - the two of you could just ignore each other. But, because it's her - because of what she means to Peter, you can't just put her aside.

It's no secret that Peter and Dr. Sloan are close friends. And, you're sure there's a side to Dr. Sloan that you're not privy to. But if Peter trusts her, confides in her, shows his true self to her - and she can't stand you, then what does that say about your and Peter's relationship?

People tend to surround themselves with similar people. It's no shock to you that throughout your life, you've called more than one Kyle your friend. But you and Dr. Sloan are complete opposites. And, you like to think that you're more than just another resident to Peter.

But, who's to say? Maybe the rumors are overstated, of you being Peter's "favorite." Maybe the way he treats you, spends time with you, believes in you - it's all in the name of mentorship. Maybe the glimpses you think are the real Peter aren't glimpses at all.

You drink from your glass - a larger mouthful than you bargained for - and immediately almost aspirate. You manage to swallow the wine, the smallest of mercies, but you know already when you look back that Dr. Sloan's gaze will have turned on you.

Your eyes meet and before you can strategize what the best next move would be, she inclines her head in the smallest of nods.

Amanda brings her a glass of wine - so she's a fan of reds, too.

You nod back. And she turns her gaze back to her menu.

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

4. Nights Out

Part 1 Next Part Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures, inaccurate healing timelines, alcohol consumption, gentle angst, cringeworthy drunken conversations

-----

“I don’t know why you insist on me being in here when you do this,” Ghost growled from the corner, glaring down at his phone as you carefully applied eyeliner, leaned up close to the mirror in your bathroom. 

“You aren’t in the same room as me. I’m in my bathroom and you’re in the bedroom,” you quipped, blinking before doing the other eye. 

“I think it’s interesting to watch ye get made up. I’ve never seen a woman do it before,” Soap said. He was perched on your toilet, examining your mascara. 

“Want me to do yours?” you offered, turning to him and offering a smile. 

“Maybe you can share some of your lipstick with me, lass,” he said with a grin. You socked him in the shoulder lightly. 

“Quit it or I’m having Ghost over there hold you down while I put a full face on you,” you said, setting down your pencil and examining yourself. 

“Now get out while I put my dress on.”

—

When you opened the door to your room and stepped into the hall, Gaz and Price had arrived, dressed sharply like Soap. Ghost was another story - though he had swapped the sweatpants he’d been recovering in for jeans and tugged on a hoodie, he’d kept his balaclava on and stuck to dark colors. 

“You’re gorgeous, doc,” Gaz said, offering you a smile along with his arm. 

“It’ll be good to finally get off base for a change. I’ve hardly been out of the hospital since I arrived,” you laughed, letting him lead you down the hall as you followed the others out to the parking lot. 

“Drinks are on me for having to put up with that bastard for so long. Think you’ll manage alone alright?” he asked, fixing his gaze on Ghost. 

“As long as all of you don’t come back shot I’ll be alright. He’s recovering well. I might almost miss him brooding in my med bay when I send him back to sleeping in his room,” you admitted with a laugh, making Gaz chuckle.

As Price climbed into the driver’s seat of his car and Ghost slid in on the passenger’s side, Gaz opened the rear door for you. 

“You’re a gentleman, Kyle,” you said with a smile, squeezing his hand as he helped you in. 

“Simp,” Soap coughed from beside you as you slid into the middle seat and buckled in. 

—

The club you arrived outside of later that evening was crowded, but that was to be expected for a Friday night. You watched Ghost as he slid out of the car wordlessly and studied him for signs of pain as the group headed for the entrance and were relieved when you saw none. 

After getting your ID examined and heading inside, your group claimed a booth in the corner. Price had insisted on driving back so you had indulged, going to the bar to get drinks with Soap and Gaz. 

“What does Ghost drink?” you shouted above the music, looking questioningly at Soap who grinned. 

“Believe it or not, Chardonnay! You should take him a glass!” he shouted back as you flagged down the bartender. 

Perhaps trusting him was foolish because as you approached Ghost with the glass and a margarita for yourself in your hands, he glared at you. 

“Didn’t peg you for a wine guy,” you said, leaning over the table and holding it out to him. 

“I’m not,” he said coolly, folding his arms over his chest. Your face went hot and you straightened. 

“Making fun of me?” he growled, glaring you down. 

“No, I–” you turned back to the bar. Soap and Gaz were doubled over with laughter, wiping tears from their eyes. You sighed and looked back at Ghost who was glaring the two down. Not wanting to remain at the table with Ghost or go back to the bar to get laughed at, you tipped your head back, chugged the wine, and walked to the dance floor with your margarita. 

—

The evening started to blur after that. You could remember polishing off more drinks to soften your embarrassment and dancing with Soap before going off to the bathroom to check your makeup. When you’d come back you’d danced against Gaz, his hands finding your hips as you moved in tandem, laughing and chatting. 

After that you’d stumbled through a back door on accident while looking for a different bathroom, the first one having been full. 

Ghost stood alone, leaning against the wall as he smoked, his mask rolled up to his nose. 

“Those are gonna kill you early,” you slurred, stumbling up to him and leaning against the wall next to him so that your shoulders brushed. 

“The job’ll take care of that,” he grunted, not looking your way. It was quiet for a moment. 

“Why don’t you like me, Ghost?” you slurred after a minute, leaning your cheek against his bicep and angling your chin to look up at him with your best sad puppy eyes. 

“I like you plenty,” he grunted. Your lower lip wobbled. 

“M’ sorry. Wasn’t trying to be angry at you earlier, or before. Never tryin’ to be angry with you,” he mumbled, looking down at you as he tossed the cigarette away. Your eyes locked. 

“You’re pretty drunk, doc,” he said with a chuckle, brushing some of your tussled hair out of your face and rolling his mask back down. 

“Are you not?” you giggled, swaying in place. He took you gently by the arms to steady you. 

“I can hold my liquor,” he grunted, glancing back at the door to the club. “Come on, let’s round up the boys and get you home.” 

“You never told me what you drink,” you protested, your eyelids heavy. 

“You’ll find out.”

—

You woke up the next morning in your own bed, your dress unzipped but still clinging to you. A vague memory flashed through your head of you rubbing your back against the door like a bear in an attempt to get it down.

After taking some painkillers and a hot shower, you stumbled out of your room and to the med bay. It was empty, so you wandered further down the hall toward the rec room, where you found Ghost quietly eating cereal. 

“Oh, there you are. How’re you feeling?” you asked, yawning and rubbing your eyes. He chuckled. 

“Better than you probably. You remember anything about last night?” he asked. You searched your mind for a minute and froze. 

“Did I– did I almost cry to you about you not liking me?” you asked, your voice deadpan. 

“Yup.”

“Fuck.”

It was quiet for another moment, the only sound in the room being that of Ghost munching cereal. The bastard ate it dry. 

“I’m sorry,” you offered after a minute, your face feeling hotter than the heat from the bodies in the club the night before. 

“S’ alright.”

Price wandered in not long after, headed for Ghost. 

“Would you like to join us at the briefing later? I know you’re benched for this one but I don’t want to leave you out,” he said, sitting down across from the lieutenant with a stack of paperwork and his pen. 

“Sure,” Ghost grumbled. Price glanced back at you.

“You should get some rest, Feelgood. You had quite the night last night,” he said. Heat rushed to your face and you sat down on the couch, pulling out your phone. 

“I’m alright. I need to keep an eye on him anyway,” you said. 

—

The morning passed quietly. Eventually, Price returned to his office to keep working and Ghost joined you on the couch as you sat on your phones in silence. Gaz came in looking surprisingly alright for how much he’d had to drink last night, offering you a smile. You chatted with him idly before Soap came in, moaning about his head and digging through the fridge for something to drink. 

“Did he get you in alright lass?” Soap asked, nodding at Gaz as he plopped down by the three of you. Ghost looked up sharply from his phone, fixing you with a stare. 

“You helped me in?” you asked, looking at Gaz with a raised eyebrow. He nodded sheepishly. 

“Couldn’t just leave you lost outside, lass. You couldn’t remember which door was yours first and said you were going to go sleep in the med bay,” he said with a laugh.

“Oh, god. Thank you, I swear I’ll make it up to you. Last night I acted…wildly unprofessionally.” you admitted with a sigh, rubbing your forehead. 

“You wouldn’t be you if you acted professional all the time, doc. That’s why you’re with us, isn’t it?” Soap asked with a grin, and you smiled. 

“I suppose so,” you said softly. 

Ghost sat on the couch, listening. He had been angry at first that Gaz had been so close to you the night before but did his best to let it go. He had never admitted his admiration of you with the others - of course they would assume that they might be able to cozy up with you. 

And he had been prickly with you before, even almost angry at you. His heart ached as he watched you talk with the boys, wishing that he could just express how he felt to you like a normal man. He wanted to hold you, to touch you more than just having his hand against your back while you listened to his heart race for you. Last night he’d wanted to kiss your worry away and tell you that of course he liked you, perhaps a little too much. 

—

As you walked with him back to the med bay later that day to change his bandages, he was quiet, lost in thought.

“I wanted to apologize again for last night. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” you said softly, heat finding your cheeks yet again. You could deny it to yourself no longer - you found Ghost interesting and attractive and you were desperate for him to think the same about you. Had you messed up your chances by drunkenly confronting him the night before?

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Feelgood. You don’t have to keep bringing it up,” Ghost murmured, opening the door to the med bay for you. 

“You’ve only got to spend one more night here with me, okay? After that, I’ll be comfortable sending you back to sleep in your room - just come find me each day so I can check your wound,” you said softly as the door shut behind you two. 

“Will you be coming with me to see them off at the airstrip?” he asked, settling down on the couch and pulling out his phone. 

“Sure, is it early?” you asked, getting the supplies to change his bandages ready across from him. 

“Wheels up at 0530. I’ll wake you up,” he grunted. You nodded and headed over to him, sitting on a stool and sitting down in front of him. 

“Shirt up please, big guy,” you murmured. He huffed softly, smiling under the balaclava. 

“You keep callin’ me that,” he murmured, sliding his shirt off completely. You put gloves on and pulled the old bandages off, setting them to the side and examining his wound. Even through the latex, the warmth of your touch made Ghost melt a little and he relaxed, leaning forward into you. 

“Sorry, do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, your brow furrowing as you began applying the new bandages carefully. 

“I don’t mind. It just means that I get to call you ‘love’ now,” he said with a chuckle. 

“Fair’s fair,” you murmured as your stomach did flips in your abdomen. 

—

When you’d finished bandaging Ghost and tossed the old bandages and your gloves into bins, you moved to leave, but he gently took you by the arm. 

“Love, I–”

Soap practically kicked down the med bay door as he came in, making Ghost go quiet and pull away from you sharply. 

“Hey lass, want to get dinner with me before I leave tomorrow? My treat,” he said, leaning up against the med bay wall and grinning. You smiled. 

“Sure! Come on, Ghost, get your shirt on, and let’s go,” you said.

“Yeah, LT, get your shirt back on. What’s going on in here?” Soap teased, making kissy faces behind your back. Ghost scowled as he put it back on. 

“You just missed seeing my festering wound, Johnny. Now get, I’ll catch up,” he grumbled, sitting back on the couch and folding his arms across his chest. 

“You sure?” you asked, smiling at him as you headed for the door Soap had opened for you. He nodded, jerking his head at the door. You went with Soap, leaving Ghost behind, words he was struggling to put together left unspoken on his lips.

-----

Taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000, @aquarianix

[maria021015]

HEAD-CANON: Stiles blurts random facts when he’s nervous and trying to find something to say.

“Just do it,” Scott hissed at his best friend, leaning back in his seat. Stiles reached behind him to stick up a particular finger at the wolf in response. He rehearsed the words he’d come up with over and over again in his mind, his confidence building with each repetition.

Hey Zay? You look really beautiful today. Hey Zay? You look really beautiful today. Hey Zay? You look really beautiful today.

“Hey, Zay?” He whispered and tapped on her shoulder to grab her attention. Only when her head twisted around to look back at him, his words caught in his throat. The darkened liner made the green in her hazel eyes so much brighter. With her hair pulled back, he was granted an unobstructed view of the sharper angles and softer features of her face. His mind was suddenly blank. “Uh…did you know butterflies’ eyes are made up of six-thousand lenses, which means they can see ultraviolet light. So they can actually see colours we can't see, and a lot of butterflies’ wings use ultraviolet colours to attract a mate.”

Zaida stared at him for a moment, the inner corners of her brows twitching slightly downwards in confusion. Was he making fun of her outfit? Or was she looking too far into it? “...Okay,” She mumbled but before she could turn back around, he opened his mouth again.

“Also! Uh…” He blurted. ‘You look really beautiful today’. Just say it, you idiot! “...They taste with their feet.”

“...That’s wonderful Stiles,” Zaida shook her head as she faced their teacher, her pen tapping against the top of her notebook. What the hell was up with him lately? She heard a thwap of paper hitting something, but didn’t bother checking on what the boy was up to now.

“What was that?” Scott whisper-shouted as Stiles clutched at his head where his friend had just whacked him with a notebook. “‘They taste with their feet’? How did we get from ‘ you look beautiful ’, to ‘butterflies taste with their feet’? How are you this hopeless?”

“Yeah, thanks buddy. I know I blew it, it’s not like you had to tell me.” He snorted bitterly. “How about we focus on what I am good at, okay? What are we going to do about the impending sacrifices?”

LATER THAT NIGHT

“Just hold on a little longer, okay?” Stiles took the seat beside her and whether he was speaking to Cora’s unconscious form, or her, Zaida wasn’t sure. “Trust me, if anyone's gonna get us out of this, it's Scott.”

“Did you really just say that?” Zaida snorted, unable to hold back her amusement.

“Yeah, I know...I can't believe it either considering we actually used to be the ones with the plan. Well, or, at least a plan B.” He chuckled.

“What do you mean ‘used to’?” She raised a brow, exaggerating being offended.

“I don't know...Now, I'm thinking, maybe Cora was right.” His face shifted into a grim expression as he looked down at the beta. “You know, maybe we are pretty much useless. Maybe all we really do is show up and find the bodies.”

“No, we’ve still got it, Stiles.” Zaida promised him. “We saved Deaton. We saved Lydia, didn’t we?”

“You and Scott saved Deaton and Lydia.” He corrected, and Zaida didn’t know how to argue that point. “What have I done?”

“You figured out how the Telluric currents were connected. Without you, we wouldn’t have even found Deaton.” The brunette pointed out.

“What about Heather? What about the lifeguard? The music teacher? The doctors? The pianist? Emily, Kyle, Harris, Dr Hilyard, Tara, Mr Westover…?” Stiles listed the amount of people they had failed to save in comparison. “...I don't want to find my father's body.”

With those words Stiles blew out a shaky breath, sniffing and wiping a single tear that escaped his eyes with the back of his hand. Zaida’s guts twisted at the sight of him crying, feeling his sorrow through the chestnut door in her mind.

“We’re not going to find his body, because we’re going to find him - alive and well.” Zaida spoke firmly, gripping onto the boy’s arm tightly with both of her hands.

“You can’t promise that, Zay.” Stiles spoke softly, his eyes glassy - eyes made of molten honey the shade of a rich whiskey. As she tried to find her words, Zaida drowned in those eyes, getting drunk in their depths.

“Maybe I can’t, but I do promise to do everything I can to get him back.” She whispered, unable to bring herself to speak any louder under the intensity of his gaze, yet she was also unable to pull away from him. Those whiskey-eyes were addictive, to say the least.

“Why?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, wanting to know if her reason for doing so was akin to how he would do anything for her. It wouldn’t really matter what she asked of him, if her earlier demand for him to leave without her was any indication. In that moment he discovered he truly would risk it all for her. If she would do the same…would it mean she felt what he did?

“Because I don’t want you to have to mourn your father.” Zaida swallowed thickly, but emotion was still stuck in her throat, coating her words as they left her lips. The lips his eyes now found themselves drawn to as he traced all of her features, eagerly drinking them in like a man dying of thirst.

“...And I don’t want you getting hurt.” Stiles admitted, his walls crumbling beneath her stare. He was a person who found it incredibly difficult to open up, but in these vulnerable moments with her? There was nothing else he could do but knock down his walls to let her in to the softer sides of himself - to the boy who was terrified to lose anyone else the way he had lost his mother.

“And you think I’d be okay with anything happening to you?” She scoffed softly, beating wings stirring to tickle against the walls of stomach. She and Stiles had always been able to talk to each other about the deeper things, but this time it felt different. This time made her wonder if maybe there was something further than concern for a friend behind his motivations. It was in the way he was looking at her, and in the lowness of his voice. “...Or your father,” She added, pretending as though this was still about the missing Sheriff, when really, both of them were smart enough to know it wasn’t.

“I think…you’re a fighter, with the temper of a storm, and the strength of water.” He reached out to play with the golden bracelet around her wrist, his warm fingertips brushing her skin and sending goosebumps ripping up her arm. “As stubborn and relentless as the waves that shape immovable rocks. I think you would do anything to protect the people that matter to you. And I think…that whatever or whoever is in the way of what you want should be terrified.”

“The strength of water?” She repeated with arched brows, wishing that ignoring the rest of what he’d said would keep her heart from beating right out of her ribcage. She didn’t think the boy could be so poetic with his words. What’s more is that she never thought she’d like it.

“You know, the cohesion of hydrogen bonds between molecules makes water one of the strongest natural forces to exist on Earth?” Stiles rambled nervously, explaining the metaphor, and Zaida recognised the similarities between the manner in which he was speaking now, and how he’d spoken earlier that day in class. “Besides gravity, electromagnetism and nuclear forces…”

“You know…butterflies taste with their feet.” She shot back with a faint mischievous smirk in her own way of calling him out. Was she flirting with him? He was pretty sure she was flirting with him.

“What I meant to say was…” He shook his head at the memory of his own blunder, hesitating as he worried if maybe he was misreading the current situation. That was when he heard Scott’s voice in his head, egging him on.

‘Hey Zay? You look really beautiful today.’ Just say it, man!

“Hey, Zaida?” Stiles took in a deep breath, looking right at her as his chest clenched. “You look really beautiful today.”

“...I,” Zaida’s lips fell open as her blood rushed to her face, suddenly feeling entirely too warm to be sitting in such a confined space. After a moment of composing herself, she broke into a wide smile, eyes flickering downwards shyly. “Thank you, Stiles.”

The boy let go of the breath he had been holding in anticipation of her reaction, satisfied with the way he’d made her blush. Not knowing what else to say, his brain threw things that he did know at him. “You know what? Actually, a group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope-” He began digressing once more.

“Don’t ruin it.” Zaida cut him off, but she laughed regardless. At least now she knew him blurting facts at her was his form of a compliment.

“Yeah, right, sorry. Shutting up now,” He mimed, zipping his lips closed, though there was a poorly-concealed glint of excitement behind his amber eyes.

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 14: Girls' Night

Lawrence Thompson. The man who sealed my fate. The lawyer I trusted with my freedom. The slimy prick who let me be locked up. And he’s standing twenty feet away.

My position from a nearby fire escape provides a prime lookout point. My target appears to be walking this way with his date for the evening, one who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else than with him. She’s trying to walk away but Thompson won’t have it. 

“N-No! Leave me alone!”

“Now now, what’s wrong? I thought you liked rich men, Tiffany.”

Time to pounce.

I swing from the bars and land on all fours in the dark alley, just in time to see the pair walk in front of me.

“Let her go,” I order sharply, making my presence known.

Thompson does a double-take. I look like any other street mugger in my dark clothing. He looks as if he’s never been robbed before.

“Says who? A shadow?” he mocks.

I nod my head at the poor girl next to him. “Run.” She does as I ask, not thinking twice before bolting down the sidewalk and leaving Thompson to me. I pull out a dagger and approach him the way a cat does its prey. “I’ve waited a while for this.”

He scoffs, trying to push the threat aside. “What did I do?”

I lurch forward to grab his jacket and pin him against a dumpster. “It’s all that you’ve done and what you haven’t done. You’re supposed to be a distributor of justice. Instead you take bribes from Falcone and prey on defenseless women.” I hold the cold blade up to his cheek. “That stops now.”

His precious confidence flips off in the blink of an eye. “D-Don’t kill me! Please! I’ll do anything!” he blubbers. “What do you want?”

My glare burns through him. “I want my life back,” I growl.

In one swift motion I reach for dead Baxton’s pistol, jamming the barrel to Thompson’s temple. Another death at my grasp. Quit stalling, you’ve killed before. What’s one more? He deserves this! Pull the trigger, Prentiss! Pull the freaking trigger-!

Snap!

Thompson jumps when a whip cracks against his back. “Ow!”

Who’s joined the party now? Another woman dressed in black… with cat ears? Why not? Her jumpsuit looks similar to mine except there’s small white stitches woven through it. The other accessory is a simple black mask with flaps at the top resembling cat ears. The woman’s eyes dart between Thomason and me with sparking curiosity.

“Meow.” She skips forward and pushes me out of the way, wrapping my victim up with her whip. “Stop playing with your food. Here, allow me-”

She snatches my pistol and aims it at Thompson.

Bam!

He crumbles to the pavement like a sack of potatoes.

My face falls. “I could have-”

“You’re clearly new to this,” the woman drones, unimpressed. “If you’re going to kill someone, do it quickly. And simple if possible. Less to clean up.” She jerks her head to the fresh corpse. “He’s a piece of work. What did Lawrence Thompson do to you?”

I kick a stone down the sidewalk. She just schooled me in murder. How did I let this happen?

“Had me locked up. All because I wanted to tell the truth.”

“The only place the truth will get you in Gotham is under the boardwalk.” She leans down and looks up at my face. “You got a name?”

Hm. She seems on the side of the law I’m on… I think. Can I trust her to not turn me in?

“Calico Prentiss.”

Her face perks with interest. “Calico? As in the cat?”

“Yes. My parents thought it was pretty. What’s your name?”

She offers a hand and we shake. “Selina Kyle.”

I nod. “Another name for another woman in a mask.” She’s the Catwoman that Crane told me about.

“That leads me to my question. What are you doing out here? The Prentiss family isn’t broke. Surely a rich girl like you doesn’t need to be sulking through the streets for scraps.”

There is no reason to tell her everything. For all I know she might be just as scheming as Dr. Crane. Keep it simple, Prentiss.

“Money won’t help me. I’m scoping out the area.”

She doesn’t ask why. Selina just looks me up and down trying to get a read on me.

“What if I helped teach you a few things? I like strays like you.”

My eyes flash. I know I’m new to this but I don’t need to be lectured like a child. A stray. At least Crane let me figure things out on my own.

“I don’t need anyone. If I screw up it’s on me.”

Selina clicks her tongue. “Wow. You are quite the wild card. Reminds me of myself.” She gestures to my hair. “Rule number one, keep your hair pulled away. A ponytail is available for your attacker to pull you down. My suggestion? Get a ski mask.”

Is she kidding? “Your mask hardly covers your face. I’d rather have something more effective.”

Selina cocks her head and toys with something in her pocket. A closer look reveals it’s a jeweled bracelet.

“I’ll go out on a limb and assume those diamonds don’t belong to you.”

Selina shrugs. “Girl’s gotta eat.”

I take that as a cue to leave. I’m here for justice, not thievery. I got what I came for anyway- one way or another. Thompson is dead. Maybe I can actually do the killing next time-

“Ding dong! Mind if I join you?” a cheery voice rings out.

A familiar girl in a red and white clown costume cartwheels past me, leaping onto a parked car. Her.

“You?!” I gawk and pull out my gun. “You’re with the Joker!”

She giggles and strokes her jester hat. “Yeah, that’s my puddin.” Her New York accent is immediately noticeable. “We’re kinda in a rough patch. He loves me, he loves me not, I get locked up in Arkham. It’s all over the map. Harley Quinn, pleased to meet ya!”

“How can you put up with that clown?” a voice behind us asks.

I give a friendly wave. “Hi, Ivy.”

The poisonous botanist herself steps out from behind the shadows, wearing a dark green leotard. Who’s been following me?

“Ah, hello!” the clown girl waves. “Nice to see ya, Red! Join the club!”

Ivy tilts her head. “And what club is that?”

I hold up my gun and step away. “This is not a club. I’m a one-woman act.”

“I agree,” Selina inputs from her perch on the fire escape. “This cat walks by herself. Let’s go, Calico.”

She hops down and pulls me away from the two women. We’re both thinking the same thing: we don’t need unwanted attention.

“Aw, we’re not so bad!” Quinn whines. “C’mon, stay! We’ll go out for drinks!”

“Oh, yes,” I quip and keep walking. “Four of Gotham’s most-wanted walking into a bar. Sounds like a setup for a joke.”

“No joke! Let’s go out! Please? Mista J’s too busy with Batman. I’ve got noth’n else to do.” She taps on Selina’s shoulder. “C’mon, kitty. What’s the harm?”

Selina halts in her tracks, pondering over the offer. “Calico?”

This is what they call a social gathering. I used to partake in them myself during college. Nothing too out of control, just a few drinks and some chatting. That was when I was so naïve about the ways of the world. When I was… sane. Does something that normal apply to people like us?

I hold up a finger and face the group. “One drink. Period. No more after,” I warn, stopping to point at Quinn. “And no funny business. Understand?”

She grins like a maniac. “Loud and clear! Let’s get cracking!”

Selina takes the lead. One that has us end up on the… less patrolled side of Gotham. She points us to a bar and my first thought is: run. If anxiety and anger married and ran a bar together, this would be it. Harley is oblivious to the sketchy characters giving us the evil eye but Ivy isn’t. She plays her part of looking like the pretty poison she is and ignores them. But this doesn’t sit well for a buff bearded guy. Seriously this guy has so many tattoos you would think he’s a child’s doodle pad. He snarls at Selina and tries to reach over- right as Catwoman lashes out and scratches lines of blood down his tattooed arm.

“Never corner a cat, darling. You’ll get the claws.”

He backs off, as well as the rest of the onlookers, and we head to a booth in the back corner.

“This place is definitely on the dodgy side,” I mutter.

Selena sits next to me and begins scanning the menu. “Don’t sweat it, I know the owner. Rico and I go way back.”

“On what terms?” Ivy asks.

“A respectable understanding. This is a clear zone for both of us. I don’t steal and he doesn’t turn me in.”

“Does Batman know about here?”

Catwoman shrugs. “He’s never shown his face before. But I’d stay cautious.”

A skittery-looking waiter takes our order and scatters to the kitchen. Alcohol is the only product I trust in this unsanitary place, so a simple mixed drink will suffice- Uh-oh.

Something catches my eye. A small TV in the ceiling corner shows Summer Gleeson standing in front of the roads leading out of the city.

I point and the others follow my gaze. “Look. On the TV.”

“It is confirmed. Gotham City is now on lockdown due to the Joker’s bomb threat. Citizens are required to remain off the bridges and stay indoors.”

I wish Dr. Crane was here. He’d have so much input about the Joker’s psychosis- What is wrong with me? I do not need him back in my life!

“Care to explain, Harley?” Ivy grunts and sips her cocktail.

The clown girl grins proudly. “He’s a genius!”

Selina groans. “Psycho. Now we’re stuck.”

I sip my own drink, considering the situation. “I had no intention of leaving. I’ve still got work to do. Although Joker might do the dirty work for me if this keeps up.”

“Seems to me like you’re putting way too much effort into stalking,” Selina quips.

I sigh deeply and rub my temples. “Well then how would you acquire information?”

Something in the atmosphere changes. The girls exchange looks, as if trying to decide how to lay out a heavy truth on an unsuspecting child. 

“I don’t think you’d like what we do,” Ivy says slowly.

This is ridiculous. “Guys, I’m not five. What-?”

“You sleep with them,” Selina cuts me off. “Men are so much easier to manipulate when you sleep with them.”

Static. My jaw drops and my train of thought crashes off the rails. Did I hear that right?

Harley giggles. “Told you.”

My pulse spikes, my eyes darting to look at all of them. “I am not going to belittle myself by sleeping with those sleazy bastards! I still have my dignity- they haven’t taken that yet!”

The botanist smirks. “Yeah, you’d rather be sleeping elsewhere…”

My eyes narrow. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Ivy?”

She rolls her eyes and takes another drink. “Callie, you’ve fallen head over heels for that creep!”

Harley makes a pouting face and gets in between us. “Aw, leave her alone, Red. Her and Crane are perfect for each other!”

Crane. Am I that easy to read? Sure, I like to know how he’s doing. As a concerned colleague. Surely that’s as far as my intentions stretch. How can they suggest such a thing?

“He’s a twisted louse!” Ivy bites back. “How can you even stand to look at him?”

My brow furrows in both offense and frustration. “You’re both wrong. He’s not a louse and I do not love him. Our relationship is professionally scientific and platonic.”

Retreat. This is getting too personal to be just a girl’s night- If those even exist. I need to get out-

“Aw, Red. It’s love! She ain’t brainwashed.”

Ivy scoffs at Harley’s argument. “Says the once-sane psychiatrist who’s in love with Gotham’s most dangerous psychopath.”

The clown girl tilts her head at me. “You don’t talk much, do ya hon?”

I slowly look up to meet her gaze. “Small talk and commentary are just empty words. People don’t care. Though then again people usually don’t care when I have something intellectual to say either.”

“Maybe that’s why Crane likes you.”

Now it’s my turn to scoff. “He doesn’t like anyone. He likes having people to use as guinea pigs. I was merely a mistake. I wasn’t even supposed to be in Arkham, and here I am now. Talk about getting high on risk.”

“Oh really?” Selina inquires.

I nod, remembering my textbook. “For some people, they ‘get high’ off of adrenaline when they take risks in their life. They might understand their mortality but are willing to ignore it. Others take risks because they don’t want to live an uneventful life, so they take part in activities such as skydiving, snorkeling, and other death-defying activities. For me I guess it’s getting back at the people who put me here.” I take a sip, letting my words sink in. “But certain people might just want smaller risks because they fear their mortality more. It all depends on a person’s own view of their mortality and what they want to accomplish in life.”

Selina’s playing with her straw and Ivy looks zoned out, but Harley is anything but bored at my small lecture.

“Wow! That sounds like Johnny boy. But instead of being obsessed with fear you like death or something. I still think you’d make a cute couple.”

There it is again. Tonight’s outing is starting to get on my nerves.

My fist clenches around my glass. “If you could please abstain from playing insane matchmaker, I’d like to go home now before I completely lose what’s left of my marbles. Crane’s played around and used me enough, I do not need any more interruptions.”

Apparently the words ‘played around’ and ‘used’ seem to catch their interest. Harley and Ivy exchange looks, while Selina simply gives me an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

“Well, it’s been fun. But I’ve gotta get home to feed my cat.”

She stands up and struts out of the bar, with half the men staring, leaving me to my own awkward exit.

“I’m heading home too. My target for tonight was eliminated thanks to Catwoman but as I said I’ve got more work to do. As well as wait for this whole bomb threat to blow over, figuratively or literally.”

Harley bites her lip and Ivy seems to be cooking something up. “I think we’ll stay a while longer. Go get some sleep, Callie.”

Sleep. Something that’s been avoiding me these past few nights. It sounds pretty good right now. Anything’s better than trying to argue against my feelings for- ugh. Him.

“Goodnight everyone.” I down what’s left of my drink and make my way out of the crowded bar.  

Maybe now that Thompson is finished I can finally let go… But there are just a few more loose ends to deal with.

[brokehorrorfan]

Paramount Scares: Volume One will be released on October 24 via Paramount. The 4K Ultra HD box set collects Rosemary's Baby, Pet Sematary, Crawl, Smile, and a mystery fifth title making its 4K UHD debut.

1968's Rosemary's Baby is written and directed by Roman Polanski, based on Ira Levin’s 1967 novel. Mia Farrow stars with John Cassavetes, Ruth Gordon, Sidney Blackmer, Maurice Evans, and Ralph Bellamy.

1989's Pet Sematary is based on the 1983 novel by Stephen King, who also penned the script. Mary Lambert (Urban Legends: Bloody Mary) directs. Dale Midkiff, Fred Gwynne, Denise Crosby, Brad Greenquist, and Miko Hughes star.

2019's Crawl is directed by Alexandre Aja (The Hills Have Eyes, High Tension) and written by Michael & Shawn Rasmussen (The Ward). Kaya Scodelario and Barry Pepper star. Sam Raimi produces.

2022's Smile marks the feature debut of writer-director Parker Finn, based on his 2020 short film Laura Hasn’t Slept. Sosie Bacon, Jessie T. Usher, Kyle Gallner, Caitlin Stasey, Kal Penn, and Rob Morgan star.

The limited edition set comes with an special issue of Fangoria magazine, Paramount Scares enamel pin, sticker sheet, and exclusive slipcovers for all five films. Special features are listed below.

Rosemary's Baby special features:

Rosemary’s Baby: A Retrospective

Mia and Roman

Theatrical trailer 50th anniversary trailer

Like most first-time mothers, Rosemary experiences confusion and fear. Her husband, an ambitious but unsuccessful actor, makes a pact with the devil that promises to send his career skyward.

Pet Sematary special features:

Audio commentary by director Mary Lambert

Interview with Mary Lambert

Fear and Remembrance

Stephen King Territory

The Characters

Filming the Horror

3 image galleries: storyboards (with introduction by Mary Lambert), behind the scenes, marketing

Dr. Louis Creed, having just moved to Maine with his wife and two children, is heartbroken when he finds that his daughter’s beloved cat has been hit by a truck and killed. Thankfully, a strange, elderly neighbor called Jud knows a secret that may spare the young girl’s tears. He takes the dead cat to an ancient Indian burial ground that lies hidden in the surrounding hilltops; and when he buries the feline there, it comes back to life a few days later. But Louis can’t be trusted with the secret, and, despite strong warnings that something horrible will happen, he uses the power of the burial ground to bring his son back from the dead.

Crawl special features:

Beneath Crawl featurette

Category 5 Gators: The VFX of Crawl featurette

Alligator Attacks

Alternate opening

Introduction to alternate opening

Deleted and extended scenes

As a category 5 hurricane tears through Florida, Haley rushes to find her father, who is injured and trapped in the crawl space of their home. The storm intensifies and water levels rise, just as the pair face an even more terrifying threat—alligators lurking below the surface, ready to chop.

Smile special features:

Audio commentary by writer-director Parker Finn

Laura Hasn’t Slept - Original short film with introduction by director Parker Finn

Something’s Wrong with Rose: Making Smile

Flies on the Wall: Inside the Score featurette

Deleted scenes with optional commentary by director Parker Finn

After witnessing a bizarre, traumatic incident involving a patient, Dr. Rose Cotter starts experiencing frightening occurrences that she can’t explain. As an overwhelming terror begins taking over her life, Rose must confront her troubling past in order to survive and escape her horrifying new reality.

Pre-order Paramount Scares: Volume One.

[yellowocaballero]

i need seasons 2-4 of kyle rayners reworked adventures i am OBSESSED :o

OH BABY BABY ME TOO ME TOO OKAY. Believe it or not I'm trying to keep all of this as short as possible so the random little HCs are being left out, I might add some extra later.

So again this is a single season haha. Because a) it did not actually end up that short, I got a bit #poetic there, and b) Season 3&4 are a bit vaguer in my head and aren't as entertaining to tell! If/when I wrangle them into something much more interesting I'll share them. I know that there's probably a 1-2 year timeskip to Season 3 and a much, much longer timeskip to Season 4 AKA Green Lantern: Shippuden, which would have a different protagonist. Milagro Reyes, Blue Beetle's sister. Alright, that one I DEFINITELY have to elaborate on later...

TL;DR

Avatar: The Last Airbender Season 1 combo with Star Trek The Original Series but also the moral of the story is ACAB.

The moral of like this entire children's cartoon is ACAB, by the way, in case I was remotely subtle about that.

GREEN LANTERN SEASON 2: SOMEHOW THIS WAS RENEWED BY CARTOON NETWORK

(By the way, I'm super embarrassed to say this, but I love thinking of stories hyper-specifically styled after kid's cartoons. In case you were wondering: New Wave airs on Kid's WB between Pokemon and Jackie Chan Adventures on Saturday mornings. Green Lantern airs on Cartoon Network, it's ridiculously over promoted because the network doesn't realize how ACAB it is. That one Legion of Superheroes Zoboomafoo show is on PBS. You get the idea. Stories ought to have clarity of purpose.)

Think the first season of Avatar: The Last Airbender, when Aang is searching for any remaining airbenders or a firebending teacher. Same energy.

The episodes are formulaic. Kyle's on a space road trip, searching for signs and survivors of a lost culture. Each episode Kyle lands on a new planet, digs up some rumor or trail to surviving Green Lantern rings, journals, records - anything that could prove what happened to Hal Jordan. Sometimes he finds a trail to an abandoned Green Lantern outpost. Other times he's fortunate enough to actually meet an ex-Green Lantern, usually while fishing them out of some trouble. Other times he's just landing for a pit stop and finds himself wrapped up in alien trouble. Kyle's lost as hell, in over his head, and has no idea where to even begin on this ridiculously ambitious journey. Kyle's always thrown himself into new situations and new places and trusted everything would work out, but space is a little bigger than America. He just has to trust that the answer's out there. He can't go home without it. He can't look Guy, John, and the Justice League in the eyes and lie to them. Even for BTS.

He has one guide in this journey: Kilowog's ring! It serves as his personal trainer on how to use the ring, advisor, teacher, and educator on alien species. It's gruff, pretty silly, but Kyle is depressed to learn that his ring is his closest friend now. It is the sole teacher Kyle has into the actual Green Lantern Corp - it always advises him on their creed, their views, and how a real Lantern would solve a problem. It is remarkably unhelpful on finding a damn Lantern.

Instead, all Kyle finds are problems. Every planet has a problem he needs solving, a person he needs to help, or a disaster to avert. Sure, none of it's Kyle's business - but hey, he's a superhero. Not a cop. You can barely even call him a Green Lantern. Everywhere he goes, citizens of the galaxy tell him about the GLs they met and used to know - how they hurt, how they helped, how they should have done better - and who they wished the GLs would have been. They wished that the GLs actually helped instead of enforced.

They don't have an actual GL. But they do have Kyle. So Kyle says - show me where to help.

He helps wherever he can. He sees everything and learns everything. He meets heroes, villains, and ordinary people just trying to get by. He meets heroes from all walks of life, sees every kind of civilization and culture and found the good and bad in each one. He talks to everybody, from the kings to the peasants, and learns from them all. He learns about the thousand systems of government in the galaxy, and learns about where they succeed and where they fail.

He makes friends. Brave people who fish his fat from the fire. Regretful ex-Lanterns who threw themselves back into being a warrior even without their rings - and embittered ex-Lanterns who resented the loss of their power and authority. He meets a princess who spent her entire life figuring out how to govern well, and the leader of a rebel cell who specializes in freedom. He meets people who are very good at explosives and people who have sworn never to throw a punch. They all have something to teach him.

Not even the ex-Lanterns know what happened on Oa. Kilowog's ring can't show the black box to anybody but its wielder. So Kyle keeps travelling. The ring picked up an unusual energy signal in the next system over - maybe there's an outpost there!

(The unusual energy signal was space vampires. That's how Kyle saved a space Transylvanian town from intergalactic vampire pirates.)

Kyle saves people, but he has to make decisions too. He solves problems. Kilowog's Ring tells him how the GLC would have solved the problem, and he usually takes it into consideration, but usually the episode is about Kyle learning how to solve the problems his own way. He learns how to judge the values of the GLC critically and think for himself, and how to admire not the institution but the good people inside of it like Kilowog. How to fight to promote equity and justice, instead of just fighting to maintain pre-existing systems of power.

Six months later, Kyle has finally defeated whatever (Zuko/Zhao/whatever) villain has been chasing him around (they join his space found family) and makes it to the (North Pole) Green Lantern Outpost At The Edge Of The Universe. This was it. He's spent a month following this trail, and he's risked everything. He's turned over every intergalactic stone, taken every risk. If there's anything, it has to be here.

But all he sees is an empty tower surveying an empty kingdom. And Kyle looks around and he sees nothing. Not the last guru he was promised, or a mythical member of the Guardian species. There's no heroes or warriors. Nobody helpful. Nobody to fix anything. Nothing that will help the people he's met who need help, nobody who will use the GL powers for good. Nobody can restart the Corp as it deserves to be restarted, nobody to turn it around and use their immense power as it was meant to be used. Nobody to avenge Kilowog and expose Hal Jordan for who he really was. The real Green Lantern isn't here.

Kilowog!Ring: "What are ya talking about, kid? The guy's right here." Kyle, dirty with sticks in his hair, has not slept in thirty six hours, going insane: "IS HE FUCKING INVISIBLE" Kilowog!Ring: "That guy is you, kid :)" Kyle:

Well, Kyle feels like a fucking idiot. F to his hopes and dreams. But at least he's not scared anymore.

Kyle goes home.

Earth is different. Or maybe it's just Kyle that's different. Everything feels so much smaller but so much bigger, and when Kyle stands in the middle of L.A. he's captured by the beauty of the universe - the beauty of humanity as part of that universe, how humans are just another mundane strand in the great web of the universe, and how special they are for it. How he's not special, how he will always be a face in a crowd, just one insignificant person in a world of seven billion - but how amazing that is, to be among a proud seven billion! How improbable, to be the only Kyle Rayner! There are trillions of unique people in this universe, people who all have lives and stories and hopes and dreams, and there's no such thing as an insignificant soul. In an city where everybody has to be special, where everybody has to make it big and stand out and yell their names - none of them realize how special they all are just for living. Special just for being their fleshy, insane, amazing selves.

Kyle flies to the Watchtower and walks into the middle of a Justice League meeting. And he looks Superman in the eyes and says, "Hal Jordan killed the Green Lanterns."

….

Aaaand then he posts a video on his YouTube channel titled "coming clean" and the thumbnail is him sitting on a couch in his house.

Surprise bitch, he's pulling a Tati. Kyle spills EVERYTHING. He tells the whole truth and nothing but the truth. What the Earth's hero did, why he killed himself, and why it happened.

Kyle explains that the Corp was not destroyed by Hal Jordan - it was destroyed by its own greed and vanity. Its black-and-white and justice-above-all ethos took a grieving man and warped him into a mass murderer. A power such as the Green Lanterns should be used to help people, not control them. It should protect people, not impose law. So uhhh end video, I'm fucking off to space agan, Kyle out!

A year ago, a funky little blue man told Kyle "Help them." He could have warned Kyle about Rayner, told him what a Lantern was, but that was what he chose to say. Kyle never really understood what he meant. Superheroes helped people, right? That's what Kyle figured at first. Six months later, after learning the truth, Kyle believes that he must have been asking Kyle to help the GLC - find the surviving GLs, save the organization, help Jordan himself. But he never really understood until now. It took life on Earth and life in space to really get it.

The Guardian understood that the Corp failed because it cared more about fighting evil than doing good. Yes, it kept people safe, but it never helped them. The Corp was light and goodness in the galaxy, but it never put helping people first. And Kyle finally realizies that this is what the last Guardian wanted for him, and what he wanted for the Corp. This was the future the Guardian wanted. And that's what he's going to do. That'll be Kyle's ethos.

He'll help people. Nothing more, nothing less.

It doesn't matter if people believe him. It doesn't matter if the League believes him. He doesn't stick around to find out. Kyle returns to Oa and finds the ruined power battery, the same battery Hal Jordan used up in his own selfishness and grief and destroyed.

And, with the implacable will of somebody who's always known what he's wanted, who has seen how to create it and what must be created, who travelled the galaxy and back and helped people at every stop of the way, who knows exactly what he wants the GLC to become, he remakes Oa.

He reaches inside the battery and pulls out a handful of rings. Kyle is instantly convinced he's fucked up the whole thing already, because they're all different colors?! Orange ring, Black ring, what the hell? Why is Kyle so bad at this?! But he releases them, and they go zooming off. Somewhere, Guy and John get their rings back. Not the rings they wanted.

Kyle finally makes some normal-ass rings and gives them to his found family/supporting cast from the season (Gaang…Kyle Krew…we'll workshop it), people who all have different perspectives and methods and ways of problem solving but who are all equally dedicated to helping people. They will be the first vanguard of the new Green Lantern Corp.

If Kyle wants it hard enough, it can happen. And all Kyle wants to do now is become a good man, who leaves the right legacy. Season 3 is him running around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to run a gigantic space organization by himself but you know what he's doing his best.

Kyle, who has been writing space emails to Alex this entire time as a framing device: "Hey, honey, so I've been worldbuilding." Alex: "Cool, for the webtoon? Or for your next DND campaign?" Kyle: "No I mean I've been building a world. Should it have volcanoes? I want a volcano." Alex: "Kyle I cannot put you in charge of dishes much less a world what the FUCK are you doing." Kyle, crying: "I have no idea honey can you come here please I suck at this."

[ask-a-guard-dog]

what is a titan. what new thing is gonna fuck everything up now.

"Nasty business tyrants. Things that The Shadow Troupe was playing with. Artificial pillars, to give the most basic explanation, cultivated from the DNA of Darius and other humans-

... shit, that's what he really is isn't he, we just got hung up on the ghost part..."

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed�� until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

[boldlyvoid]

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

Permanent tag list:

@ssacalumsg0lden @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @sassymoon @shirleyrose @reidsacademia @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @spooky-goob @anaagraceeberr

[dreadpoetssociety]

I’m Many Things

TW: Mention of sexual harassment

Note: I’ve never really posted these before, so please be lax if it’s bad lol. I don’t see a lot of sibling fics (understandably lol) but I feel weird writing like romantic relationshipy reader insert fics with characters that are significantly older than me. Anywayyy, here goes. This is going to be short for now. 

Note pt 2: Idk if this really is any good. Looking at it now it seems a little off or I can’t really tell if I got Spencer right, but I tried!! It’s kinda rushed, I’ll admit. Also hopefully I used a gif right lol. This is kinda cringey and I promise I’m better than this fic, but I just really wanted to break the ice and start posting them, so enjoy!! (if you have any prompts/ideas please send me some ! I wanna write some more :))

()()()()()()

Summary: Your brother, Spencer Reid, has to have a meeting with your principal.

Spencer Reid x Sister!reader 

(or should I say reider hahahah I’ll shut up.)

By now, Spencer was pretty familiar with the hallways of your high school, given how many times he’d been called in for meetings with various different staff members, or even from the parent-teacher conferences alone. Thankfully, the office was at the front entrance of the building, blocked off from the rest of the hallway with floor to ceiling windows, with one door. 

Reid had been informed in a very interesting phone call with the principal himself of what you had done. He was used to the petty things from you, talking back to teachers, skipping a class, vandalizing something, but the one thing you had never done, at least until now, was get into a physical altercation with another student during school. Let alone punch the principal’s son. Even so, despite the disappointment, Spencer still sensed that something was wrong in the sense that he understood you wouldn’t just do something like that out of nowhere. 

He was greeted by the women at the desk as he walked in.

“Hello, Dr. Reid. Nice to see you again.” she smiled.

“You too, if only it were under different circumstances.” Reid replied with a polite smile.

“She’s in front of the office, as usual.” the woman gestured to Reid’s right. The office had many rooms in it on its own, its own hallway and all that. Spencer walked behind the front desk and turned, seeing you sitting in a plastic chair near the end of the hall.

You turned when you heard footsteps coming down the hall.

“I know how this looks, but I promise it’s not like that.” you began explaining.

“You say that every time Y/N. This is the third time this semester I’ve had to leave work because you’ve gotten into some kind of trouble.” Spencer replied, obviously disappointed.

“This is different! Mr. Beck is being so stupid just because it’s his own son. You don’t understand, that kid is awful.” you said.

“Y/N did he hit you?” Spencer asked.

“Well, I mean, no but-” 

“That’s exactly what I mean. I understand that you’ve had it rough, but really Y/N getting violent?” Typically, Spencer would always hear you out. He was understanding, and genuinely listened, but the team was just about to leave on a case that was already stressful, and now it’s being delayed, “Y/N there’s a serial killer out west killing people every few hours, peoples’ lives are on the line and this is where I am.”

He’d never spoken to you that way. It was really unlike him, and he never put the job before you most of the time, and this hit you where it hurts.

It was then that you both were called into the principal’s private office.

“Dr. Reid, I apologize for pulling you from your busy schedule.” the man known as Mr. Beck greeted as he stood up and offered his hand, which Spencer shook.

“It’s no problem, sir, it’s not your fault.” Spencer then saw the other boy sitting in the chair on the far side of the room with a very swollen eye that would definitely be very purple later, a day or two to be more specific he thought. For teens, it takes about that long for the hemoglobin to change the red color to a more blue or purple he explained to himself in his own head, because that’s just how his mind automatically works. Either way, it was worse than he thought it’d be.

“Now, we’ve already talked about the issue over the phone, and as far as consequences go, we’ve been very lenient with Y/N for so long.” Mr. Beck began, “If I’m being completely honest, after what happened today, expulsion is being very highly considered.” 

“You’re going to expel me? You didn’t even listen to my side of the story, I’ve been sitting on that goddamn chair this entire time! You’re just taking your son’s word over mine you biased a-” 

“Y/N!” Spencer interrupted, “Mr. Beck, I understand completely why you’re upset and I’m appreciative of you patience, but expulsion seems a bit extreme. I promise I’ll talk to her and she’ll get the consequences she deserves and this won’t happen again. Suspension I can understand.” 

Great. you thought, Serial killer and now he has to save me from expulsion. Way to go again, disappointment.

“What? You didn’t even hear what happened! Your son was-” 

“Y/N that is quite enough!” Mr. Beck nearly yelled, “We’ve given you so many chances and today, my son tells me that you’ve been making fun of him and violently hurt him without reason! It is unacceptable!”

You genuinely laughed at that point, “I’m sorry what? Your son told you that I made fun of HIM? Have you ever looked at your precious son’s phone?” 

“Y/N shut up. You know what you’ve done.” Mr. Beck’s son snapped. Spencer found the phrasing quite odd. His demeanor was off putting, and he didn’t seem nervous at all. Granted, he could be in shock. Spencer recognized him, though, from pictures you’d shown him when complaining about pretty much every student in school, “You know you came up to me randomly. You know you harass me literally all of the time, and for what?”

Spencer noticed that this kid didn’t look anyone in the eye when he spoke, but slightly behind them.

“Mr. Beck, did Y/N ever say why she hit your son?”

“What does it matter what she says? She cannot be trusted and this behavior is not new. My son would not lie about this.” Mr. Beck sounded offended. 

“As a staff member, though, you shouldn’t let your biases get in the way.”

“She still physically harmed another student. Regardless of why, she must face consequences.” 

“Mr. Beck, it is only respectful to at least hear what she has to say.” Spencer argued. The young boy in the far seat’s face changed. He was nervous now. Mr. Beck sighed, and nodded towards you.

“Mr. Beck, this my come as a surprise to you, but I was NOT harassing your son. He was harassing another girl between classes. She had sent nudes to him, and then I don’t know if they had a falling out or something, but she was trying to like, I don’t know, break up with him I guess and he was following her around and pushed her up against a locker and tried to like, kiss her even though she said no. So I punched him, and then he threatened to send those pictures of her to everyone.” you stated, “Mr. Beck honestly, I’m many things, but a bully isn’t one of them. And no offense, but the last person I’m interested in even looking at is freaking Kyle Beck of all people.” you ranted. Spencer realized then that you were being genuine. You were a good liar to the naked eye, but always gave off the basic tells that Spencer could pick up on when you weren’t being truthful.

It was then that Spencer’s disappointment actually changed to pride. Although he didn’t condone the violence, he understood that you were a loner of sorts, and appreciated that you’d stand up for someone like that.

“Dad, she’s so full of crap! I would never do that, you know me!” he yelled. Reid noticed the small tremor in his voice, and quick change of behavior. 

“Y/N, I know I raised my son differently.” 

“Check his phone.” you said. 

“I know what he does.” Mr. Beck snapped.

“Sir, I believe she’s telling the truth. I say this as unbiased as I can, but I can tell when she’s lying. I am a profiler, you know.” Reid backed you up. He didn’t usually pull out the profiler card, but reading the room, now seemed like a good time. Mr. Beck was taken back for a moment before sighing, and his son’s face completely drained of color when asked to unlock the device.

It wasn’t long after that that the truth came to the surface. Your sentence went from expulsion to a month’s worth of detention.

Walking to the car, Spencer said, “You know Y/N, I don’t condone the violence, and don’t exactly agree with the way you handled that, but I am proud of you for sticking up for that girl.”

“Yeah.” you replied. He noticed that you didn’t seem happy, but more so upset.

“Y/N, what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m profiler, Y/N. You know I don’t believe that.” he said. You sighed.

“I don’t mean to disappoint you all the time,” you started as Reid’s heart sank, “I know you should be out there saving people rather than staying here and dealing with me. I’m not worth the time. I don’t know why I’m this way, I’m really sorry.”

“Y/N...” Spencer realized his mistake, “I was just stressed when I said that. You’re not a disappointment and shouldn’t apologize for just being who you are. Don’t undermine your importance, either. You mean more to me than the job.”

You smiled, “So does this mean I can come with you and look at crime scenes?”

“Absolutely not.” Reid chuckled.

“Aw, but it would be so cool! I’ll be good I promise!”

“Y/N, crime scenes aren’t cool, and you would cause trouble before we even got there.” he said, jokingly, “I bet you would even try to fly the jet.”

“Oh my god, I never even thought about doing that. That’s such a good idea.”

“And that’s why you’re not allowed to come.” Reid smiled, as they both got in the car and drove towards home. Spencer appreciated the ten minute ride while he could, knowing he would be leaving soon after. 

[south-park-meta]

Favourite Stan & Kyle moments in-canon?

-Prehistoric Ice Man

Stan [walks off with Kyle] Could we be best friends again? [Cartman stops] I hate having Cartman as a best friend.

Kyle Me too. He sucks.

-Super Best Friends

Stan Now look, dude, I'm getting out of here, and you're a dumbass if you don't come with me!

Kyle Then I guess... I'm a dumbass. [turns and walks back to his room. Stan turns back to face the hall and watched Kyle walk away]

Stan Kyle, please. You- [looks down and to the left, then looks up] You're my best friend.

Kyle Well, this is what I believe in now, Stan. And if you can't respect that,... then I guess we're not best friends anymore. [opens the door to his room and walks in. Stan looks, then turns towards the exit and walks out]

and

Kyle Thanks for saving us Stan. You're my Super Best Friend.

Stan You're my Super Best Friend too, Kyle.

-Cherokee Hair Tampons (tbh all of this episode. I also freaking love Stan and Kenny's interactions in this)

Stan Well, it's my friend, Kyle. I think he's really, really sick.

Dr. Doctor He is really, really sick, Stanley. I was seeing him last week when he first got ill, but unfortunately his mother has decided to put all her trust into holistic medicine.

Stan But I don't think it's working.

Dr. Doctor Alright, Stanley, I'm going to be very honest with you. Your little friend Kyle needs a kidney transplant. Or it is very possible that... he will die.

Stan [overwhelmed] Die? But... Kyle's my best friend. In the whole world.

Dr. Doctor I know this is a lot to lay on someone your age, but... the rest of the town is so gung-ho in New Age medicine that I have nowhere else to turn.

Stan ...I'll give Kyle my kidney, even if it hurts a whole lot; I don't care.

and

Kyle Hey, thanks for going through all that to save my life, Stan.

Stan Dude, you're my best friend. I don't want you to die until I do.

-Cartmanland, no particular dialogue I just think it's cute how supportive Stan is of Kyle.

-Asspen

Kyle Look, Stan. When Kenny died I learned how important friends are. I'm not gonna lose another friend.

Stan This isn't about you, Kyle, I have to do this, okay? I have to!

-Fun with Veal, just Kyle taking care of Stan as he gets sick.

-The Return of Chef. Stan and Kyle watching the sunset and supporting each other.

-Follow that Egg!

Stan Come on, buddy, let's go! [walks happily towards his door. Kyle steps forward, then stops]

Kyle Stan... [Stan turns, then he turns away] Do you really think my hat is stupid?

Stan [walks back and puts his left hand on Kyle's shoulder] As a matter of fact,... I think it is the nicest hat I've ever known. [Kyle smiles and Stan pats him twice on the back] Come on! [they head out]

-Guitar Queer-o

Stan I was listening to you for a while. Dude, you've gotten a lot better. ["I'd stare a lifetime into your eyes"]

Kyle Oh, thank you! I was so eagerly awaiting your approval of my abilities! ["So that I knew you were there for me"]

Stan Look, Kyle, the game is still set up at my house and, maybe we could go try playing it again over there.

Kyle Oh, so the gallant knight now comes to rescue me from the bowels of mediocrity! Oh, thank you, your royal lordship! ["Time after time you were there for me"]

Stan That isn't it at all. ["Remember yesterday - walking hand in hand"]

Kyle You don't get it, Stan! I can play here all I want. I even get free Frescas. I don't need you anymore! ["Love letters in the sand - I remember you"]

Stan I know. I need you. [Kyle glances over his shoulder, then turns around to face Stan] I thought I was having a great time because I was getting signed by managers and, going to big sex and coke parties, but, then I realized, I was having fun because I was doing all that... [turns around and face Kyle] ...with my best friend.

-The China Probrem

Kyle I know that I'll have to testify, that I'll have to... relive what I saw that day. [sniffs and wipes his nose with his right hand] But I can't let Spielberg and Lucas get away with it. Not this time. Even if I have to do it alone.

Stan You aren't alone. [he enters the room with Kenny, Clyde, and Jimmy]

Kyle [gets off the chair] Stan?

Stan We'll all testify. We can't let them ever do this again. [begins to cry and leans into Kyle's shoulder. Kyle consoles him and begins to cry. The other boys cry as well] I love you.

Kyle I love you too.

-Butterballs. Might be weird but I really like Stan trying to bully Kyle in the bathroom and Kyle just IMMEDIATELY making him fuck up at it.

-Titties and Dragons

Stan [startled out of his sleep] Huh? Hello? Who is that? [next to him is a glass of milk, a sandwich with a bite in it, and a tin cup]

Kyle Stan, it's me.

Stan Get out of here!

Kyle Dude, I know you're pissed at me right now. You've gotta understand that I did it because I know in my heart that the XBox is better, for all of us.

Stan You completely betrayed the last bit of friendship we still had.

Kyle You weren't playing fair, dude. Getting your dad to work part time at the mall wasn't fair.

Stan [stands and turns to address Kyle] I didn't even know he was working at the mall, Kyle!

Kyle You didn't?

Stan ...But you couldn't just ask me. Because XBox people... don't care about the truth. They just care about seamless multimedia connectivity.

Kyle I'm sorry, Stan. I'm sorry. This whole war has just got us all so screwed up. I just want us to be playing Call of Duty on the right machine.

Stan You don't understand. I'm never playing Call of Duty with you again.

Kyle [lets his head fall on the door] Stan, don't say that.

Stan Get out of here! I'm done with you! [grabs the tin cup and raps it against his bedroom 'jail cell' door as in classic prison movies] Mom! Mom! [Kyle stands up straight] Get him out of here! [Sharon arrives, and Kyle back away from the door] Get him out! [Kyle leaves]

-Freemium Isn't Free. Kyle noticing Stan wasn't in school and leading the kids to help him out with his freemium game addiction.

-Splatty Tomato. Stan being willing/eager to help Kyle find Ike even though the past few seasons they've REALLY struggled with being close.

[forevercloudnine]

pre-new 52 scarebat ship meme

 (I actually have no idea what to call this period of comics. The dc wiki calls this the “New Earth” universe... it’s like, everything after Jason Todd was retconned out of being a circus acrobat up to Flashpoint. Anyway like a month ago I asked @heroes-etc​ to send me questions for this version of scarebat from this ship meme but then forgot that I did it because I got distracted by other ships. Sorry Jonathan...)

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Bruce does DO physical affection — I mean, how many comic panels do we even have of him making out with Catwoman on rooftops — but he’s not especially forthcoming with it. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that his love interests are more likely to instigate contact than he is, especially when that love interest is a villain like Selina or Talia (can you even IMAGINE him trying to take them off guard in a fight by grabbing their face for a kiss? Because I cannot).

He does occasionally instigate affection with his children/proteges, though usually it’s in instances where they obviously need comfort. Bruce isn’t always great at handling complicated emotional situations, but grief and trauma is something he understands very intimately, and he never hesitates to physically reassure people who are in that kind of pain.

In situations where someone isn’t in the active process of being traumatized, he’s less forward with physical affection. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll reject it if it’s instigated — depending on who you are, of course. I’m guessing he wouldn’t put up with hugs from random members of the Justice League. Superman is his best friend and he would probably try to wiggle out of 90% of Kal hugs if doing so was physically possible. Most of his loved ones don’t really spring physical affection on him unless they need it or it’s an especially emotional moment, however. It’s not really Bruce’s primary love language. 

Jonathan seems even less physically affectionate than Bruce, though obviously doesn’t have a lot of opportunity to demonstrate how he feels either way. Master of Fear offers the only example of him expressing explicitly romantic affection that I know of (unless you count his terrorizing Becky Albright in New Year’s Evil as physical affection, which... might be how he’s thinking of it...?), and it’s entirely instigated by Sherry Squire. He does ask her to the Halloween party, but she’s the one who takes him down to the furnace room for some “one-on-one” time and tells him to kiss her. 

He also notably does not actually get a chance to kiss her, mainly because the whole thing was a prank meant to humiliate him. This might be why he doesn’t try to instigate anything similar with his next crush, Dr. Linda Friitawa (again, unless you count Becky Albright, but I can’t find New Year’s Evil to read anywhere so my only knowledge of his interaction with her comes from Tumblr. I’m like 80% sure he was supposed to be interested in her romantically, but asking someone to do supervillainy with you isn’t the most direct way to express attraction, so I’m taking that as more obliqueness from Jonathan).

He never expresses any direct romantic interest in Linda, but at the very least he clearly cares about her more than he cares for most people, since he, like. Defends her in conversation and apologizes to her for things that aren’t even his fault. Which means a lot, coming from a sociopath with no regard for human life. They do hold hands at one point, but Linda reaches out to him first, and he waits to see if she’s going to back away from his reciprocated touch before he reaches for her other hand. 

He never instigates anything further with her, possibly out of fear of rejection. Unfortunately, it turns out that this was a good call, because Linda was only pretending to be nice to him while Penguin was paying her to experiment on Jonathan without his knowledge. When Batman figures out what they’re doing, she immediately fucks off and starts dating Black Mask.

Even more unfortunately, his 45 seconds of hand holding with Backstabby McMad Scientist is probably the only mutual physical affection Jonathan has ever experienced in his entire life, so honestly I have no idea if he would be more into it as a concept if it was offered to him more often. He’s clearly willing to return physical contact when it’s initiated by someone else, so maybe it is something he would seek out in an actual relationship? He DOES get handsy with Bruce when he has Batman tied up sometimes. 

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

Trip out on fear toxin, both of them, hands down. There are few things more embarrassing than, as Jonathan aptly describes it, being “reduced to whimpering quivers” in front of your enemy. Especially an enemy who’s presumably jotting down notes on your worst fears, since Batman/Scarecrow fights tend to just be competitions in who’s more frightening.

11. What do they hide from one another?

I mean, obligatory mention of the fact that Bruce hides things from absolutely everyone (with the possible exception of Alfred, because Bruce trusts him as completely as he is capable of trusting anyone, and also because it’s really hard to hide things from a parent whose involved in every aspect of your life and already knew you before you developed your pathological need to obfuscate your feelings and intentions).

As Wonder Woman pretty aptly describes during the Tower of Babel arc, even Bruce’s closest allies are never going to hear the full story from him. So it’s deeply unlikely he’d ever be 100% truthful with a supervillain, even if they got close AND Jonathan reformed. 

But it’s notable that Jonathan’s fear toxin has actually given him a more honest look into Bruce’s psyche than he would ever purposefully give to people who aren’t close family members. And by “close family members” I again pretty much just mean Alfred. Unfortunately for Bruce, nothing forces emotional transparency like mind altering drugs. Fortunately for Jonathan, nothing forces emotional transparency like mind altering drugs! Not that I’m recommending that anyone drug a romantic partner into being honest with them. But Jonathan is a trained psychiatrist, so I assume his psychological know-how combined with insights gleaned from the dozens of “sessions” he’s had with Batman in the past would leave him more prepared than most to decipher the mystery that is Bruce Wayne. (@heroes-etc: riddler is SEETHING.)

Jonathan meanwhile is more than capable of putting together a clandestine scheme, but in respect to himself he’s actually pretty straightforward. Though his driving motivation in this continuity gets more and more complicated over time, from the early 90’s “I just like fear” to the early 2000’s “my Granny tortured me with birds when I was a child and now I’m obsessed with inspiring the same fear and submission she forced on me onto others,” what doesn’t change is his willingness to monologue about it to anyone who’s listening.

Also, anything that Jonathan is unable or unwilling to go into detail on, Bruce is more than capable of puzzling out himself. In Scarecrow: Year One he successfully tracks down Jonathan’s old home to recover and read through Granny Keeney’s diary, and after Scarecrow’s Master of Fear origin was published, it’s clear that Bruce has done his research on Jonathan’s childhood. There’s even a (presumably unintentionally) hilarious scene where Bruce pauses mid-rescue of a man that Jonathan has kidnapped and traumatized with fear toxin to lecture him on having bullied Jon in high school.

Is this really the time, Bruce???

(@heroes-etc: oh 100% he nailed that timing.)

13. When do they realise they should get together?

Well, circling back to Tower of Babel, it’s revealed when Ra’s al Ghul has Talia steal Bruce’s contingency plans for defeating the Justice League that Bruce has “borrowed” Scarecrow’s fear toxin in case he has to take down Aquaman.

This was back when Scarecrow had a number of different toxins that induced different phobias, or made people hallucinate hyper-specific nightmare scenarios (such as “being eaten alive by roaches from the inside,” for some terrible reason). Batman notes in his contingency files that Scarecrow has already done the work for him; presumably Jonathan had already designed a formula to induce hydrophobia, so all Bruce had to do was steal a vial of it from a crime scene.

(The sentence “Why not make him incapacitate himself... perhaps through fear?” alone is like 90% of why I think these men would get along like burlap on fire if they ever actually cooperated on something. Also, unrelated, but the polaroid of Jonathan he has in the Aquaman file is weirdly adorable.)

Bruce’s plan for Arthur is incredibly effective, and notably also Bruce’s only contingency that isn’t either inherently lethal or a ruthlessly sociopathic betrayal of emotional vulnerabilities that had been revealed to him in trust and friendship (RIP Kyle Rayner).

(Notably, Bruce’s plans for Kyle and several other leaguers directly involve using their worst fears against them, even without a fear toxin conveniently tailored for this purpose. Bruce just really likes using fear as a weapon against people.)

After Tower of Babel, Bruce obviously needed to create new contingencies, since the whole point is that they were secret plans that no one could see coming. In canon, Bruce goes on to create the A.I. satellite Brother Eye for this purpose (which backfires even worse than his first set of contingency plans, because of course it does). But I think an interesting alternative could have been Bruce tapping Jonathan for more toxin strands tailored to taking down the Justice League. If Bruce Wayne offered to pay Scarecrow’s way out of Arkham in order to develop formulas that could neutralize the world’s most powerful superheroes, is there any way that Jonathan would turn him down? I mean, obviously he would plan on betraying Wayne at some point, and Bruce would similarly be working against Jonathan’s best interests. But maybe if they set aside their “who’s scarier” dick measuring contest to work together for once, they could come to recognize their shared passion: scaring the shit of people.

Also, the Jonathan in this continuity really likes books. And you know what’s a reliably sustainable source of books that can’t be confiscated by the authorities? Dating Bruce Wayne. The manor alone probably has an insane amount of rare books that have been hoarded by his family over the years. It’s like a weird reversal of the Beauty and the Beast, where the rude rich guy who gives a library to the love interest he may or may not have technically kidnapped is the pretty one.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

If they were dating, I’m guessing Jonathan wouldn’t want to go anywhere in public with Bruce at all. Bruce Wayne is a celebrity bachelor, and celebrity bachelors get a lot of attention, and people who take celebrity bachelors off the market get a lot of NEGATIVE attention. The public reaction to Bruce settling into a committed relationship with anyone would be the kind of weirdly resentful gossipy judgement that the girlfriends of famous princes or actors or musicians always get from tabloids and entertainment television, but in Jonathan’s case it would be a million times worse. Not just because he’s a supervillain, because if there’s any town that would expect its most eligible bachelor to eventually date a supervillain, it’s Gotham. But more specifically because “ugly social outcast” is one of Scarecrow’s most enduring character traits. Not exactly the traditional trophy wife. And though Jonathan’s Scarecrow identity seems to distance him from a lot of the shame he suffered growing up, I’m guessing that the kind of spiteful vitriol that would follow him anywhere he accompanied Bruce would at the least bring back some very unwanted memories.

Bruce probably doesn’t have the same discomfort Jonathan would with being seen together in public. He doesn’t care if people think Bruce Wayne is insane or lacking in judgement as long as they don’t think he’s Batman, and I’m sure he’d find a way to spin “dating a man who prefers to dress exclusively in burlap” into something appropriately characteristic of playboy idiocy. But while he'd definitely respect Jonathan's wishes to stay out of the public sphere, he would probably enjoy any opportunity to bring Scarecrow into Gotham high society, since his presence would definitely shake up a party, and Bruce is generally extremely bored at any social event where he doesn’t have anyone to snark with. And with Jonathan’s scathing wit as entertainment, Bruce might one day fulfill Alfred’s wish and actually make it through an intermission sometime.

I’d say that Bruce would be nervous about taking Jonathan out for “field research,” but I’m sure it would be one of Scarecrow’s requirements for any long term collaboration, so it’s something that he would have to get used to pretty quickly. He would probably endeavor to keep Jonathan away from anything that could retrigger his less healthy behaviors. On the other hand, it’s not like Bruce does that for himself, so it stands to reason that he probably wouldn’t be able to successfully control Jonathan in that regard either. 

It doesn’t help that one of Jonathan’s primary motivations in villainy is his childhood, which is... exactly the same thing that Bruce is fixated on. A significant portion of Scarecrow: Year One is the two of them waxing poetic about how similar they are in this regard. 

Relating to this, even though it might be a terrible idea, I don’t think Bruce would be able to resist encouraging Jonathan to reconnect with his mom. Bruce would never recommend for someone like Cassandra to seek out a relationship with her father, but if someone he cares about has a LIVING parent who WASN’T abusive to them? It seems unlikely that Bruce wouldn’t advocate for reconciliation. Jonathan’s dad obviously never cared about the teenage girl he knocked up or their bastard child, but Karen Keeney is a different story. DC Holiday Special ‘09 makes it clear that Jonathan was taken away from her against her will, and she’s spent a significant portion of her life wracked by guilt imagining what the woman who abused her was doing to her son.  

Ultimately she attempts to commit suicide because she feels personally responsible for every terrible thing her son has ever done, which is tragic because really she’s the only member of the Keeney family completely blameless in the creation of the Scarecrow. In Scarecrow: Year One Jonathan clearly resents her for leaving him and moving on to have another baby that she actually did keep, which I would call a really paranoid case of jumping to conclusions if it didn’t seem extremely likely that Granny Keeney told him his mother didn’t want him and left him to be tortured on purpose.

(Side note, it is REALLY weird how young Karen Keeney is depicted in Scarecrow: Year One. At times her son looks older than she is, and it doesn’t help that her second born child is an infant for some reason. Even if Jonathan is only thirty years old here, then unless she had him at younger than fourteen, she should already be in her mid-forties. Why did she only have a second child so late in life? The implication with her abusive husband is that she ended up getting trapped in a bad relationship for survival when her family kicked her out as a teenager for disgracing the family by having Jonathan. It would make way more sense for her child with him to be at least in elementary school. Also the scene would have been way more interesting if Scarecrow’s sister was old enough to talk.)

Thankfully Deadman manages to convince Karen to hold on to life long enough for someone to call 911, and she ends up surviving the suicide attempt. But were Jonathan ever to reform, it seems like reconciliation would be really healthy for both of them, since miraculously Karen still seems to care about Jonathan despite everything he’s put her through, and they’re both clearly still suffering from the after effects of Mary Keeney’s abuse. 

Bruce would be enthusiastic about this prospect for obvious reasons, although he would presumably still be nervous about the possibility of everything going terribly wrong. And even if everything went perfectly right, he would STILL be nervous, because everytime Jonathan goes to see his mother there’s a chance that she will mention the time that she kissed Batman full on the mouth. And that is not information you would ever want your psychologist boyfriend to know, unless you want to be mocked with Freudian buzzwords for the rest of your natural life. 

(...This would also count as a thing that Bruce hides from Jonathan.)

[pastelwitchling]

Kyle Valenti Appreciation Week [Day 3]

               Kyle rested back against the shower wall, the cold tiles doing nothing to clear his thoughts as the hot water hit his skin. He pushed his hair back, exhaling deeply.

               He was being ridiculous.

               All Alex had done was walk into their shared room with his shirt off, but it had been enough to have Kyle stumbling into the bathroom to hurriedly start his shower. He just never realized how toned Alex was, how strong his chest and arms were, how flat and soft his stomach looked.

               Kyle hit his head against the tiles. Don’t think about him, he silently warned. It’s only four more days, don’t think about him. He loves someone else anyway.

               He opened his eyes to the thought, staring blankly at the tiles across from him. He loved someone else anyway. Kyle knew Alex too well to know that his heart, at its core, belonged to Michael, and could never be given away to anyone else.

               But did that mean that Alex still couldn’t give him some of his heart? Just enough that they could be together, despite Kyle knowing what he knew?

               He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. It wasn’t like he ever envisioned himself with Alex, he wouldn’t even know what that would look like. Could Kyle actually see them going to the Crashdown together, like they always did, but this time sit at the same side? Or having a drink at the Wild Pony, like they always did, but this time with Kyle’s arm around his waist, leaning into him and inhaling his sweet vanilla and flower scent? Or even at night, curled up on the couch, not really watching a movie as they pressed closer together, as Kyle explored Alex’s mouth with his own, as his mouth traveled further down to Alex’s moans and pleas?

               Before Kyle knew what was happening, he had himself in hand. Heat pooled in his gut, the pleasant vibrations shooting throughout his body like electricity, urging him to keep going, to stroke himself. He knew part of him wanted to do it, to pretend, just for a second, that Alex could want him back –

               He wrenched his hands off himself and turned the water ice cold. That motivated him to hurry up.

               He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t imagine having sex with his best friend, not with him sitting in the other room, most likely struggling silently with this whole situation with Michael. He couldn’t trust the cowboy anymore, that much was clear to Kyle, and it would take either time or a real gesture to earn that trust back, neither of which Michael ever seemed willing to do.

               Kyle understood him, on some level. Losing Alex back then had been like losing an arm; he could see why Michael didn’t want to risk opening his heart up to lose him for good. On the other hand . . .

               He finished with his cold shower quickly, and stepped out thoughtlessly in his towel. Still wiping beads of ice water from the nape of his neck, he looked around for the underwear and clothes he’d set out. Where had he put them?

               “Why are you shivering?”

               Kyle jumped. Alex raised a brow at him from where he was lying on his stomach, on his bed, looking over what looked like the convention’s pamphlet. Kyle realized he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

               “Uh – sorry,” he stammered, turning back to the bathroom. “I – I didn’t –”

               “’S okay,” Alex murmured.

               Kyle stilled. Was Alex uncomfortable around him now? Did he regret coming with him out here? But wait. When he dared look at him again, he found Alex staring intently at the packet, his face red. Kyle saw him swallow, saw the way his jaw clenched, saw the way he squirmed and tugged at his shirt collar, as if he was also suddenly engulfed in a strong heat.

               Kyle took a step closer, eyes narrowed. “Are you . . . blushing?”

               “No,” Alex said, sitting up. He still couldn’t look at Kyle. “Get dressed, there’s an open bar tonight.”

               Kyle opened his mouth to say something as Alex hurried out passed him, but he was at a loss.

                 It was a quiet night. Alex stared down at his glass while Kyle tapped his own, unable to look anywhere but at Alex. He watched him for a long time before he realized that he’d memorized the way he licked his lower lip when he was nervous a long time ago, that his long lashes curled against his always rosy cheeks, that his eyes glistened no matter where they were, as if made of stars.

               Even as other drunk doctors chattered away around them, Kyle could hear every soft breath Alex took, every swallow, every shaky sigh.

               “Why are you staring at me?” he asked, his eyes still downcast, swirling the contents of his drink.

               “Sorry,” Kyle murmured, but didn’t look away. “I . . . kind of can’t stop.”

               Alex glanced up, his eyes dark, before looking away again. It was the whiskey, Kyle thought, that was making Alex’s face so red, that had him biting his lower lip. It was the whiskey, it had to be, that had Kyle scooting closer to him on his seat until their knees could touch, that had Kyle’s free hand on the table close to a fist and open again, eager to run his fingers through Alex’s soft hair.

               “Alex –”

               “Dr. Valenti!” an elderly woman suddenly appeared out of thin air, patting Kyle’s shoulder. Needless to say, the reverie was shattered, Alex’s dark eyes turned away to stare at a large aquarium against the wall. “Is that really you?”

               “Dr. Beekman,” Kyle pressed his lips together in what he hoped was a plausible enough smile, hoping, for the first time in his life, that it wouldn’t have been horribly rude to tell an old woman to go away. “How are you?”

               “Oh, I’m doing fine,” she nodded. “Have you heard about that one cancer case in Nashville?”

               Kyle glanced at Alex who seemed determined not to look at him, and he mentally groaned.

                 Kyle and Alex didn’t speak, even as they rode the elevator, even as they entered the suite, even as they grabbed their sweats to change.

               “Hey,” he said before he stepped into the bathroom while Alex changed in the bedroom. “We’re . . . we’re okay, right?”

               The corner of Alex’s lips tugged upwards and he nodded. “You and me, Kyle.”

               Something in Kyle’s chest eased, but his thighs still tingled, he still felt hot, he still wanted to feel Alex against him now. Still, he smiled with whatever relief he could muster.

               “You and me, Manes.”

               He turned to close the bathroom door behind him, made it most of the way . . . then stopped.

               He looked over his shoulder at Alex who had turned his back to the door as he took off his shirt, revealing his long, strong, smooth back. Kyle swallowed the lump in his throat. He was just drunk enough to do this, just drunk enough not to regret it, to admit to himself, amongst his haze of thoughts, that he wanted this. He really, really, really wanted it.

               He let his sweats fall as Alex undid his belt, and he stepped up to him. Slowly, he put a hand on Alex’s bare shoulder. Alex stilled, and a small voice in the back of Kyle’s head warned him that now was the time to pull away, to pretend the touch meant nothing. But the larger part didn’t listen.

               Instead, he moved his fingers to the place between Alex’s shoulder blades, and ran his hand down his back and to the waistband of his jeans. Alex straightened his shoulders, and Kyle felt him inhale deeply. He wanted to feel more. He bit his lower lip, hesitant for just a second, before he pulled his own shirt over his head, and pressed his chest to Alex’s back.

               He brought his hands around Alex’s waist, stretching his fingers to feel his stomach, his bellybutton, the trail of hair that lead down. His other hand rose to Alex’s chest, his chest hair, and he felt it; Alex’s racing heart. Was that good or bad?

               He leaned in, and, for the first time in his life, kissed Alex’s shoulder. Alex, to his shock, tilted his chin up, giving Kyle more access to his neck. Kyle turned eager. His kisses turned openmouthed until he reached Alex’s jaw, felt his stubble scratch his lips. He thought it would’ve felt weird to kiss another man, to touch another man, but Kyle struggled to feel anything but desire.

               He turned Alex around and pulled him in by the waist, pressing their stomachs and chests together. He could feel Alex’s heart, his breathing, against his own skin, and it made him dizzy. Alex’s hands slowly came up his arms and ran back down to Kyle’s waist, his hips. Kyle cupped Alex’s face, and before he could consider all the pros and cons to this, he did what he knew he’d wanted to do for a while now, and kissed his best friend.

               The kisses were gentle at first, careful, unsure, but then Alex pulled Kyle’s hips in and their clothed, hardening cocks grinded together. Kyle groaned despite himself, but couldn’t find it in him to think of the fact that a man made him want so badly because Alex moaned into his mouth, and he lost all restraint.

               He kissed Alex more hungrily, more desperately as they grinded their hips together. Kyle felt his cock turn rock hard faster than it ever had before, pulsing and eager. Then Alex winced, and Kyle realized how much pressure he must’ve been adding on his leg. He led him backwards to his bed, and as soon as Alex was seated, Kyle moved to kiss down his neck, down his chest. He bit and sucked his nipples as his hands roamed, touching however much of Alex he wanted. Then he came down to Alex’s bulge.

               His mouth watered. He finished unbuttoning Alex’s jeans, grabbed the waistband, and pulled them down. Alex’s screams were everything. Kyle grabbed his thighs hungrily, bobbing his head, eager to taste.

               “T-Take your clothes off,” Alex managed, the back of his hand thrown over his brow and looking like a gorgeous oil painting. “Please, baby, take your clothes off.”

               Baby. Alex had called him baby. Right then, Kyle knew he never needed anything else but to have Alex, to hear Alex call him that and mean it with every bit of desire Kyle felt.

               He was quick to rid himself of his jeans and climb up on top of the airman, nudging a knee between his legs. He took Alex’s hand, kissed it, and put it on his own shoulder. Alex wrapped his arms around him and Kyle clung to his waist as he grinded into him roughly, their hard cocks leaking, the scratch of Alex’s wiry pubic hair against his cock unearthly and making his eyes roll up into the back of his head.

               “Harder,” Alex pleaded, and Kyle was only too happy to oblige.

               Alex pulled his head in, and kissed him like he wanted him, like he loved him. Kyle came a split second after Alex did, but kept thrusting. It was only when his legs quivered and finally gave out did he collapse next to Alex, the two panting heavily into the small space of their shared room. Kyle half-wondered if they ever really had to leave this place.

               “I want you to keep touching me,” he confessed as he stared at Alex, his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips, his closed eyes. “Sleep with me.”

               Alex huffed a weary chuckle. “We just did that.”

               Kyle shook his head, smiling just at the sound of Alex’s laugh. “No,” he said, and wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist. Alex looked startled when Kyle pulled him in against him, bringing them nose-to-nose.

               “Sleep with me,” he whispered, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Alex’s lips.

               Alex searched his face, though what he was looking for, Kyle didn’t know. Still, he leaned in and curled up against Kyle’s chest.

               “Okay,” Alex whispered back. “Let’s sleep.”