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writteninthegarden · 3 years ago

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Aaron Hotchner x Reader

18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Timeline is end of Season 4/Beginning of Season 5

Summary: Reader is a 36 year old Special Agent in White Collar Crime. She and Hotch have been dating for about 5-6 months prior to Aaron’s injury.

Word Count: 2670

Warnings: Sexually suggestive language, brief mention of Aaron’s wounds (no graphic details though, I promise)

Aaron needed to stay in the hospital for a couple weeks, which he was not at all happy about. You quickly learned how difficult and noncompliant of a patient he could be when he decided he was done with something. When he hinted at leaving against medical advice Rossi had all but threatened to have Aaron legally sectioned to remain in the hospital. You weren’t sure if he actually could convince someone to do that, but Aaron apparently wasn’t sure he couldn’t and dropped the issue.

Secretly you were thankful he hadn’t been discharged quite yet. He was still in rough shape and would need help once he went home. You were trying to juggle how you could be there to help him without missing any more work days. It was so hard to not be able to be at his bedside with him each day. You tried your best to wrap up work each night with enough time to stop by before visiting hours ended. The nurses were very kind to you and let you stay a little later since you and Aaron didn’t cause them any trouble. You made a mental note to bring in coffee or some type of food the next time you came to say thank you.

You had tried to bring Aaron anything that might make him more comfortable as he slowly recovered. You couldn’t go into his house to get anything at least initially since it was technically a crime scene. Your best idea was to bring him some gym shorts he could wear under his hospital gown to try and preserve some of his dignity, especially as they wanted him to start getting out of bed and walking around. When you brought them you had asked if he wanted you to help him put them on. You thought his displeased look was at the idea of needing to be dressed, but then he told you he still had a catheter inserted. Well, he didn’t phrase it quite as eloquently, saying he’d have to wait until he didn’t have a tube shoved up his dick.

You hoped to convince him to come stay with you at least when he first got home, but knew that would be a major battle to get him to yes.

“I think it could be good so I can help you as you rest. I can even clear out my spare bedroom and get a twin bed for Jack if you’d like him to visit.”

“I’m not going to rest.”

You sighed. “Okay, darling.”

“Y/N” Aaron said in a serious tone.

“Okay, I get it. No rest. Noted.”

“No, Y/N. Close the door, please and come sit down. I have to tell you something.”

You pulled up the chair you’d grown used to sitting in by his side.

“We’re not going to be able to see Jack for a while. It’s a long story, but we had reason to believe that the man who attacked me might go after Haley and Jack next.”

“What???”

“They’re safe, but even I don’t know where. It was the only way to protect them. Not that you would, but you can’t mention anything about them to anyone at all.”

“Oh, my god. Aaron, I’m so sorry. I guess on one hand it’s a relief they’re safe, but that has to be so difficult for you, especially after all this.”

“It is. It sucks because in a way that psychopath still wins. I can’t see my son. There’s more I need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“You unfortunately don’t qualify for formal protection since you’re not a legal family member. You do have the option to place a request through the Bureau, but if you do they more than likely will immediately transfer you.”

“Oh. Do you think I need protection?”

“Y/N, I don’t honestly know. I never thought this unsub would come after me or my family. The Bureau will cite your training and former firearms training as reason why you could be safe with a new assignment.”

“I don’t regularly carry a weapon in my job now though, so that doesn’t really make sense.”

“I know it’s not the best. I just wanted you to know the option is there if this is too much.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“I figured you would say that.”

“Because I like my job and I like you.”

“Aww, babe.”

“Which is why I’m taking you home with me, Hotchner. I’ll start packing your things.”

“Nope.”

“Just until you get your strength back.

“Are you implying I’m not strong now?” He raised an eyebrow at you and you were thankful for the lighter mood after such a heavy conversation.

“Depends.” You said, cocking an eyebrow back at him.

“On what?”

“Still got that tube up your dick?” You knew it had been removed or else you wouldn’t have gone there.

“See for yourself.”

You sat on the edge of his bed and leaned in to jokingly grab the edge of the sheet covering his legs.

He seized the opportunity to pull you back towards him so you were lying on the edge of his bed with him.

“Aaron…I think that’s exactly the type of heavy lifting you’re not supposed to do.”

“You were already on the bed. I just had to reposition you. Besides, my arms need practice now that I’m out of that sling.”

“Mhmm, sure they do.” You eased yourself under his arm so you still wouldn’t put your body weight against him, but could somewhat cuddle. “Is this okay?”

“It’s better than okay.”

“Aaron?” you whispered.

“Yes, babe” he whispered back.

“Can you protect me?”

He knew you were referring to your earlier conversation. “Always.”

“I know that’s a lot to ask and it’s probably not even fair of me to do that.”

“Nothing about this is fair to anyone, so don’t feel bad asking for what you need.” He leaned over to kiss the top of your head. “You should know though I’ll take that job very seriously. I’m afraid I won’t be able to let you out of my sight.”

“Is that so?”

“And I suppose I could consider going to your place…on a trial basis.”

“Really? And you’ll let me take care of you?”

“Define take care of me.”

“I’d cook for us, make sure you take your medicine, change your bandages and help you shower so I can…take care of you, if you will.”

“Ugh, I can change my own bandages.”

“Some maybe, but it’s not a bad idea for me to know how to do it so I can help you.”

“It’s just that I haven’t even seen my wounds myself yet.”

“We can do it together if you want. I just want to help you heal that sexy body of yours so you can be cleared for more strenuous activity.”

“I like that goal.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Aaron pulled your chin towards him so he could kiss you.

“I missed being able to cuddle and kiss you.”

He pulled you closer and kissed you again at that. “I know, me too. Hospital beds and all the tubes don’t make it easy.”

You nearly nodded off until you heard Aaron’s nurse come in. You sprung up getting ready to apologize for being in the bed with him, as if you needed to prove you weren’t two horny teenagers.

The nurse must’ve noticed you were flustered because she made a don’t worry about it motion with her hand. “Agent Hotchner, I just need to change your bandages and take a look.”

“Would it be possible for me to watch how you do it? I’m going to help him once he’s discharged, but I’ve never done something like this.”

“As long as that’s okay with Agent Hotchner it’s fine with me. We can walk through it again right before he goes home if you want to see it another time.”

You hopped out of his bed to get out of the way and looked at Aaron for the okay.

“That’s fine” he told his nurse.

You’d never admit it, but you were pretty scared to see Aaron’s stab wounds. You’d be faced with the proof that someone had attacked him and worst of all the psycho likely enjoyed it.

You helped Aaron slide his hospital gown down off his arms. Seeing the bandages spread all around his body was the first shock, but you were pretty confident you kept your poker face. As the nurse removed the old bandages one after the other you started to feel a little sick seeing the red wounds. They looked deep and seeing them for yourself also confirmed your suspicion that Aaron was likely downplaying how much pain he was in.

You grabbed his hand that was closest to where you were standing and started lightly running your fingers over his.

The nurse took time to show you what each one looked like and stated aloud what warning signs she’d be looking for in terms of infection. She then walked you through how to reapply a new gauze and sterile bandage.

You asked if there was a way he could shower without getting them wet. She said sponge baths would be the better option at first, but must’ve seen the detest in Aaron’s reaction. She said she’d show you both tricks to cover the bandages in plastic once Aaron was strong enough to shower.

The nurse had barely left his room before Aaron told you “I’m not letting you give me a sponge bath.”

“I figured you’d say that. We’ll figure something out, baby.”

It was finally time to bring Aaron home. You were relieved and stressed at the same time since you weren’t sure how agreeable he’d be to you helping him once it needed to happen.

You got a cup of coffee with Emily that morning while Aaron went for a final scan of some sort.

“So, are you ready to take that grumpy man home by yourself?” Emily asked jokingly.

“I hope so. This is a new side of him. Honestly, I never would’ve guessed he could be such a curmudgeon.

“That’s our Hotch. He likes to be in control and keep his business to himself. Both of which he can’t really do right now. Hence the troll under the bridge side of him comes out.”

You laughed at that. “True, and don’t they say something like a real relationship test is handling someone being sick or traveling together?”

“Hah. Well, I can summarize what traveling with Hotch is like. ‘Good morning. Wheels up in 30.’” Emily said in her best attempt at an Aaron impression.

You both laughed. “Now if he ever says wheels up to me I’ll only think of your impression.”

When you returned to his room you were surprised to find Aaron alone and up out of bed slowly packing his bag.

“I was going to do that for you, handsome.”

“That’s okay. I wanted to get my actual clothes on.”

It took you a second to notice that he didn’t have the IV pole connected to him anymore.

“Ooh, wait I just realized something. No more wires or IV? Are you disconnected now?”

“Yeah, the nurse removed my last IV while you were gone. I’m a free man. No more monitors either.”

You walked up behind him and snuck your arms around his waist. “Hmm, so that means I can finally kiss you and not worry I’m going to set off an alarm if your heart rate goes up?”

“Give it a try.” He turned around so he was facing you now.

You brought his face down to tenderly kiss his lips. He kissed you back and pulled you up against his hospital gown.

“Did I pass the test?”

“Hmm hold on.” You snuck your hand down and teasingly grabbed his crotch. “Yes. This definitely would’ve set off the heart rate monitor. Let’s get Hotch in some pants.”

Aaron gave you a stern look. “You said you’d use that sparingly.”

“And I have. Sit down and I’ll start handing you clothes.”

You had to go to work the next day, but thankfully between Emily, Rossi and Derek you had a solid plan to check up on Aaron. Penelope had also offered to plant nanny cams in your apartment, but thankfully she knew that was too much from your face when she mentioned it. You were still in your probationary period so you couldn’t really take unscheduled days off yet. Thankfully your training officer was understanding and didn’t mark your record for the day you found out Aaron was in the hospital and left work abruptly.

Aaron lasted just under a week in your apartment before he was dropping hints that he wanted to go back to his place. Honestly you knew it was just a matter of time before he insisted and part of you was surprised he nearly stuck it out for the first week.

That weekend you rounded up some of his belongings and ventured over to his place. You had an eerie feeling entering his apartment building, but you kept it to yourself. Aaron must’ve been experiencing so many of his own emotions he’d never admit aloud and you didn’t want to burden him with yours too. You walked fast down the hallway to catch up to him and take the duffel bag from his shoulder. He somehow managed to get that one by you. You took his hand in yours as you approached his front door. He pulled the set of keys for the recently changed locks that Emily had dropped off from his pocket and unlocked the door. He entered first and only briefly paused to take it all in. Then in an odd almost autopilot mode he started to go about his business, sorting through the stack of incoming mail and reorganizing the top of his desk.

You on the other hand were overcome with fear and sadness as you imagined the horrifying scene you didn’t witness, but knew took place here. While the hole in the wall from the gunshot was patched and repainted and the carpet free of any blood stains you knew this was where Aaron had endured an unimaginable amount of pain and nearly died. You could feel the tears making their way up like a water main break and no amount of sniffling or clearing your throat seemed to slow them down. You moved about his apartment wishing you could find a corner or hiding spot to secretly break down, but came up empty handed.

On a return trip out to the living room to grab another bag to start unpacking Aaron quickly noticed your current state. He found you staring as if frozen at the spot where the unsub attacked him. He walked up to you and gently slid an arm around your waist and the other around the back of your neck so his hand could cradle your head. He pulled you close to him and held you tightly. “It’s okay, babe. I’m here. I’m okay. I’ll protect you.”

“But you shouldn’t have to” you said between sniffles into his chest.

“No, no” he gently whispered “that’s how this works. You took care of me and when you need it I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m sorry, Aaron. I’ve seen my share of crime scenes and thought I could keep it together for you…but I just keep picturing you hurt.” You were sobbing into his chest now and felt embarrassed that you’d likely soaked his t-shirt.

“You don’t have to keep anything together for me. It’s completely different when it’s a scene where someone you know was hurt.”

“That’s true.”

“Y/N, I’m going to keep you safe. I can’t always explain all the details or choices I need to make, but I will protect you. I’ll always do what I think is best for you. Can you trust me with that?”

“Yes, I trust you Aaron.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x y/n #hotch

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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years ago

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Right Where You Left Me

Ship: BAU! Gender Neutral! reader x Spencer Reid

#Request - Could you do some angst with “you dont deserve my forgiveness?” Any ship!

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mention of death, violence, injury (not serious), angst, mourning, a lot of tears. Also, swearing, anger, fighting (verbal, not physical.)

Summary: You and Spencer Reid had been together for a year before he ‘died.’ You grieved him. You mourned him.

A/N: Title stolen from my (current) favourite Taylor Swift song. Not sure how I feel about this one but! Here it is anyway! My requests are open & pls feel free to let me know what you think!!

14 days and 30 minutes exactly

You don’t think about the day Spencer Reid died. You can’t, because even remembering he’s dead feels as if an ice bucket has been tipped over your head. Not even now, two weeks later, have you really gotten over the initial shock that you felt. Every waking moment felt like you were trying to solve some kind of never-ending puzzle. Each emotion was overwhelming, too much to process. It felt like things would only start to get better, like everybody promised they would, when you started to be able to name the emotions rather than describe them as the physical sensations they brought on.

And you didn’t think that’d happen anytime soon.

The shared apartment was too much. You hadn’t slept in your bed since he’d been gone, and forbid anyone else from going into the bedroom. It was a sanctuary.

You understood now more than ever why victims families never changed a thing about the room of their loved ones. Every single thing felt deliberate. Theirs. It was a reflection of the time they were most alive, living. A unique snapshot of them in motion. The mess they left that they expected to come home to.

Rationally, you knew that wasn’t true. There wasn’t a sock hanging off Spencer’s bedside table, or a clean cardigan balled up on the floor, for any reason other than he’d been in a rush that morning, and had left an uncharacteristically large mess in his wake. In more ways than one.

***

2 months, 5 days, 8 hours

Being back at work helps somewhat, but the office feels empty without him there to ramble off factoids about anything and everything, to hear Morgan calling him ‘kid’ every five minutes. He only called you that now.

Simmons is nice, really he is. It isn’t his fault he’s there in place of Spencer and you try hard not to feel personally aggrieved by his presence. He doesn’t do anything to antagonise you, he stays out of your way more than anything. You don’t do anything to purposely make him uncomfortable: you do try to be agreeable and make small talk. But it’s hard not to look at him without thinking how, if everything was how it should be, Spencer would be stood in his place.

***

3 months, 26 days, 3 hours.

There is no ‘new normal.’ You’ve heard the term tossed around a few times in relation to grief, but if there is a new normal you’re still struggling to find it. When you’re not on cases, there’s no ‘normal’. You still don't sleep in your own bed. Sometimes you stay on Rossi’s, or Morgan’s, or Garcia’s couch. Sometimes, read: maybe once, it’s in the spare room at the place you and Spencer used to share. Sometimes, when you get worried about being a burden, it’s a hotel. It’s easier to feel as if you’re choosing to stay away from home, rather than acknowledging that home, as you understand it, no longer exists.

You still wake up and instinctually search for Spencer most mornings. Sure, work is keeping you occupied and you smile a little more these days. You even allowed yourself to be dragged out for drinks last weekend. But nothing feels like it should. You don’t know if that’s normal for grief or if you just aren’t moving forward at all, doomed to tread yourself deeper into the melancholic quicksand that’s got a hold on you.

You talk at length about it with Garcia over wine one night.

“Nothing feels right,” you admit, “Everything just feels...”

Garcia waits, just tipping her chin slightly to encourage you to continue. She’s got the counsellor act down and you’d have the decency to feel embarassed if you weren’t just so damn exhausted all the time.

“I feel trapped, I guess. Like I’m frozen. I keep thinking maybe it’ll get better once the trials over. Once the whole legal aspect of it is over and put to bed, then maybe I’ll have some closure on the whole situation,” you mumble, “I just don’t know how to move forward. I don’t feel like I’ve moved forward. And I know it’s only been three months but I’ve only stayed at our apartment twice and I can’t bring myself to move any of his things and...”

She just waits. In that moment, you’re so grateful for her.

“I’m stuck here. I can’t change anything. I can’t bring myself to move any of his things. I’m paying rent on a place I don’t live in but I can’t move because how can I live somewhere he’s never been? I feel like I’m stuck. I can’t move out of the world he lived in but the world is moving on even without him. And I’m just...I’m just here, Garcia.”

She nods sympathetically, placing her hand on your arm, “Maybe it’ll help when the case is wrapped up. When you have that closure.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “Yeah. I hope so.”

“There’s something you’re not saying,” she says, gently, “And you don’t have to say it. But if you’re holding back because you feel guilty then you don’t have to feel guilty about anything you say to me, my darling.”

You start to well up then. The pressure in your chest is heavy, something akin to guilt. It slices into your chest, cut glass sitting between your ribs and slicing you open every time you breathe in. You’ve been thinking it a lot lately. Too much. It’s making you feel awful and you can’t decide if putting it out into the world verbally is going to be a release or make it feel too real.

Garcia waits patiently.

You decide to believe it’ll be the former, then whisper, “I wish I loved him less. I wish I’d loved him less so this wouldn’t hurt as much.”

And then the sobs come. The sobs that wrack your chest and sting your eyes and leave you looking like you’ve been on the receiving end of an upper cut. Because how could you? How could you possibly want to take back any of the love you had so willingly, freely, given to the person you loved most? What kind of person did it make you to want to take back the good memories: to wish that instead of having waffles on the couch that last Sunday, you’d had a fight about the library fine he’d gotten because of you? How could you want to switch the puzzle pieces to create a less idyllic picture of your life together, just so you wouldn’t feel so much loss when you looked at it?

She just rubs your back through it, knowing that no words can help but still saying the thing she thinks you need to hear most, “That doesn’t make you a bad person, sugar plum. That makes you human.”

***

4 months, 6 days, 14 hours.

Hotch calls you all into the briefing room.

“A few months ago a decision had to be made. Somebody had the potential to make an incredible breakthrough on a case that had been airtight for years. But it wasn’t possible for that individual to complete that work without cover. They needed to be officially gone,” Hotch’s voice booms but you swear you can hear a hesitation, “It wasn’t necessary at the time for you to have that information. Providing you with it would have compromised the safety of one of our agents, and the integrity of their investigation.”

You glance around the room, confused, noticing everyone is sharing the same bewildered look. Except Emily.

“I apologise completely for having to keep this from you, it was a decision that was not taken lately, and I did not have the final say. That being said, any discontent about this decision should be directed towards me,” he glances towards Emily, and she’s looking nervous now.

Hotch lets out a huff, somehow more tense than usual, “SSA Reid was not killed after the attack in Seattle. That was his cover, but he was investigating a case.”

He’s still talking but you can’t hear anything. SSA Reid was not killed. SSA Reid was not killed. You flip the sentence over a hundred times. And for the millionth time since SSA Reid was killed, you have no idea what you feel.

There’s uproar from everybody. Shouting. And then Hotch says something and everybody is looking at you, scanning you for a reaction and you have nothing. Nothing at all.

“Hi,” a voice from the doorway, nervous and shy, a voice you’ve only heard in dreams and voicemails and recordings from nights out that you must have watched hundreds of times by now, if they were tapes you would have worn them out long ago.

And you know you can’t face him. You can’t face any of them.

You look around the room, first at Hotch whose eyes flicker with what looks like remorse. Then, at Emily who just looks guilty as all hell. You don’t look at him. You can’t look at him.

The tension in the room is palpable but in your peripheral you see Garcia and J.J flock to the doorway, embracing him.

Rossi, is the one who comes to you, “____?”

You stare at him, completely blankly, “Yeah?”

“You need to speak to him. Need to hear him out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, allowing him to help you to your feet. His reassuring hands on your shoulders turn you around and you meet his face. The face of the boyfriend you spent the last four months mourning while everybody watched you fall apart. And half of them knew.

So that’s what you feel. Anger.

“Glad you’re back,” you snipe, pushing past him, “Glad you’re alive.”

Everybody watches you go. A tense silence fills the room. Spencer clears his throat, after what feels like an eternity, muttering, “I-I’ll go after ... I’ll go and see if I can...”

It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, if he’s honest. Although he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting.

“____ please, just let me talk to you, I’m sorry, please just let me have a chance to explain,” He manages to catch you at the elevator just in time, slipping through the gap with his lithe body, “Please. I need to explain. I need to apologise.”

“You can apologise as much as you want. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You’ll never deserve my forgiveness.”

The venom in your tone leaves him floundering.

“___ please,” he’s begging, and you won’t look at him because you can hear the tears in his voice and he’s begging again, “Please, please look at me, please listen to me. You have to understand, you have to give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’ve never been this angry at him before. But you are now. It consumes you, you’ve never understood a crime of passion before and you’re not going to put your hands on him, of course, but fuck do you understand it now. How a person could just snap. The rage swells in you, screaming. Every muscle in your body is tense. It takes all you have to ball your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure they break the skin. You’re furious. Furious at every single one of them.

“You lied to me,” you spit, “You lied to me and let me think you were dead. You and Hotch and Emily. I didn’t sleep in our bed for four months, Spencer. I’ve spent the past four months frozen, like, I couldn’t move forward without you. I didn’t start to move on. I've spent the last four months falling apart and trying to find a way to put myself back together without you, and then what, you just come back? You think we can just go back to normal? Spencer, I didn’t feel alive this past few months. I’ve been floating through, barely keeping it together. And for what? A case? That was important enough for you to do this to me?"

It’s true, you’ve spent the last four months feeling like you were the one who died. That you were united in being ghosts, except you were haunting all the places you used to go together, and he was just haunting your dreams. And he’d been alive. This. Whole. Time.

You storm out of the lift, lifting your head to look at him for only the second time in four months, “Please. Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”

He knows you aren’t wrong. Knows he doesn’t know if he could forgive you if the roles were reversed. Knows, more than anything, that he’s really fucked things up. You’ll never forgive him. That’s what you said, and right now, seeing anger like never before in your eyes, he has no reason whatsoever to doubt that isn’t completely true.

You don’t even make it to the parking lot before you feel your resolve melt into absolutely nothing. Anger descending into relief, hot tears cascading down your cheeks as the mantra starts again on a new loop in your head: SSA Reid was not killed.

#spencer reid fanfic #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

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spokelseskladden · 2 years ago

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hi emil!! i have fun dnd updates for you!!

after our paladin was attacked by an assassin from her past, the party split up scooby-doo style and all tracked the assassin down to a clearing in the woods. i was the first one to arrive so i got to discover that there were multiple assassins! and one had a crossbow pointed at my face. i spent like 5 minutes trying to figure out what i could do to not get killed before remembering that i have the ability to catch ranged weapons. upon my discovery of this, our dm’s face dropped, he was so excited to attack me. so i let the assassin shoot at me, caught the arrow, and threw it back into her side. the rest of the party caught up to us and we had a big party vs. assassins fight in which nobody tried to hit me with a ranged weapon after i turned it against that one assassin

there were two bears being controlled by an assassin and our ranger, ever the animal lover, decided to charm one and get it to fight for us. unfortunately it was killed by an assassin and our ranger was very upset :( but her dog killed an assassin and that was his very first murder! we were all so proud!

after killing most of the assassins and tying up one against a tree our paladin and i chased after a goblin assassin. i tried to steal his gold but ended up with a bag of ball bearings and he ran away into the woods

our party then proceeded to interrogate the guy tied to a tree. for an hour. not in game time, in real time. we discovered that he had a whip to tame the bears and a whip for sex. our warlock took the former and i took the latter. the guy seemed harmless so i tried to let him go but the paladin stabbed him (almost) to death instead. i dragged her away while our ranger healed him and our warlock practiced using the paladin’s trident. he has a terrible strength stat but somehow managed to roll a natural 20 and was actually able to throw it

we ended up back in town at an inn with the assassin guy resting, our paladin getting incredibly drunk, and our ranger and warlock playing yahtzee. our warlock is really into yahtzee for some reason and i don’t know why. when we woke up the next morning he was trying to do one-handed pushups to increase his strength but failing miserably. one of our party members suggested he do trunk lifts and our game was temporarily put on hold as trunk lifts were explained to the rest of us and we all took turns lying on the ground to do them.

I'm sorry for taking ages to answer this, things kept coming up whenever I was trying to😭 I adore your dnd updates, and I'm also proud of baby's first murder :')

#asks #i scroll through my own ask tag to look at all the dnd asks again because they always make me smile <3

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 18 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader finds more productive ways to spend her time, including babysitting Henry and volunteering at the local inpatient hospitals.

A/N: That’s my gif so please give credit if you use it 🤗 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader   Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Oral (female receiving), addiction, relapse, discussions of death/murder, unsub talk, hospitals, inpatient ward Word Count: 13K

MASTERLIST

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The next morning felt strangely similar to the morning of the day we’d gone to the bank. . Waking up in Spencer’s bed and smelling the unmistakable, comforting scent of old book pages and stale coffee. I’d told him when I first came to his place that it reminded me of a library, but it was more like that quiet local hole-in-the-wall bookshop.

It almost felt like that morning, but there was one glaring difference: Spencer wasn’t in the bed.

When I sat up to try and locate him, I was reminded that there are consequences to my actions. My stomach hurt like shit, and I swore I blacked out for a second from the pain. It would pass, though. Considering I had gotten through the night without waking, it clearly wasn’t that bad.

I thankfully managed to get out of bed myself and take the pain medication I kept in my purse. And armed with the knowledge that the pain would subside within the next half hour, I hobbled toward the distant sounds of… vomiting.

Not even bothering to stop yet, I made my way to the kitchen to grab the poor guy a glass of water. It was the least I could do for his comfort considering that I was about to make his headache much, much worse.

Peeking my head through the open door, I frowned at the sight of my boyfriend half asleep on the toilet.

“Hey old man. I brought you some water.”

Finally looking up, not having noticed me until I spoke, Spencer groaned as he backed up to lean against the wall instead of the dirty porcelain. “God, when did I get this old?”

“Hmm. I’m guessing sometime in the past 30 years.” I hummed, joining him on the cold tile floor. The two of us just rested there, his hand reaching out to take mine with a solemn smile.

“You’re cute.” He mumbled.

“I know, thanks.” I joked back, knowing that I really looked like a whole mess, with my hair desperately needing to be brushed. He never seemed to mind, though. I was glad for the lighthearted domesticity of the moment, because I knew I was about to shatter it like a brick through glass.

Softening my features as much as possible with the anxiety coursing through my veins, I squeezed his hand before finally whispering, “You know your age isn’t the only reason you’re sick though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He snapped back with about as much hostility as I was expecting. He ran a frustrated hand over his face, his breathing picking up almost immediately as he tried to calm himself down.

“I know you’re just trying to do what you’re supposed to, but please…” The waver in his voice broke my heart and turned my stomach to knots. With more force, he held his hand in the air and continued to stare straight ahead. “Just... don’t. I’ll call my sponsor.”

I tried to keep my voice quiet and nonthreatening as I pushed, but I knew that it wasn’t going to make much of a difference either way.

“We have to talk about it, too, Spencer.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“You’re going to get your chip taken away,” my voice broke in half as the word fell from my mouth, “I know that that’s important to you. We can’t ignore it.”

Speaking faster, our urgent pleas overlapped to create a small cacophony booming through the acoustics of the bathroom. “(Y/n), seriously, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A silence fell between us, and I let it sit there for a minute. I wouldn’t get anywhere with him if he was defensive, and that’s exactly what he was at the moment. But I wasn’t trying to chastise him; I’m not his mother, I’m just his worried girlfriend. I loved him and I knew something was wrong, and I just wanted to help.

I didn’t know how. The men I loved never made it far enough for me to be able to help.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming home. We need to talk about that, at least.” I offered the narrowed scope, hoping that he would take it without any more of a fight.

He didn’t. Instead, he took back his hand and turned it to a fist in his lap. That time it was my breathing that became unsteady, and I tried to touch him, but he recoiled when I came too close.

“You didn’t seem to mind me being drunk last night.”

Although I knew it was coming, the words hurt just the same. I resisted the urge to mirror his actions. I wasn’t angry. I wouldn’t be angry, because that’s what he wanted. If I reacted that way, he could write off my responses.

“I’m not going to agitate you or shame you when the damage is already done, Spencer.” I said as confidently as I could, “I knew you needed affection and you weren’t going to ask for it yourself.”

He finally looked at me again, and in doing so, realized he was making a mistake. The anger melted from his face within seconds, being replaced with overt sadness and guilt. “I could have hurt you.” He whispered through the tears that started to fall.

“But you didn’t.” I said with a gentle smile, reaching over to wipe the saltwater from his cheek. “That’s not a very good excuse anymore.”

“It’s always a good explanation.” He clarified, chewing on his bottom lip. His hands released from their tense state.

My fingers couldn’t move fast enough to clear his tears, but he brought his own hands up to rub the tired eyes. I used the freedom to run my hands through his hair, pulling him closer to me.

Resting his head against my shoulder, he let out a deep, shaky breath. I continued slow, soft strokes along his arm, listening to the rhythm of his breath slowly recalibrate. Once I was satisfied with the pattern, I tried again.

“What happened on the case, Spencer?”

The tension returned, but subsided quicker than it had before. He took a deep breath and spoke through the exhale, trying to rid himself of the thought as he said it.

“We had to kill someone.”

My movements paused for a second before I reminded myself to continue, but my confusion remained. “I understand trauma is complicated but… You guys have to do that pretty often.”

Spencer wasn’t the kind of person who liked to share his thoughts. I knew as much; even his coworkers hadn’t seen the parts of him that I’d seen. There was no way for me to know if I knew them all, but I figured that I didn’t. I was almost certain there was a side of Spencer Reid that even I didn’t know. The only reason I didn’t try to figure it out was because I knew he liked it better that way. He designed his heart that way for a reason, and I wasn’t going to try and pry it out of him.

But he was scaring me. He almost never talked about his job, which didn’t bother me when it was obvious that he didn’t bring it home with him. Him getting drunk and defensive, though, were very different circumstances than the usual.

Understanding that there was no other way out of this, he continued to talk, hushed and slow. “I was alone with the guy, and I had the opportunity to kill him, but I didn’t. I didn’t kill him, even though I really wanted to.”

‘I really wanted to.’ The words stuck out in my head, no matter how quickly he tried to bury them.

“But after Hotch showed up, he had to do it. We didn’t have a choice anymore.” His arms crossed over his chest, but he pressed himself harder against me in a strange, contradictory stance.

I couldn’t respond to the most important part of his confession just yet; I knew the story wasn’t over. Like I’d told him, trauma and grief are complicated; however, there was something else he needed to admit before I could address the part of his admission he seemed most affected by.. “Spencer, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.” I reassured, trying to coax his arms away from his chest. I’m no profiler, but I felt like if he stopped trying to build walls, things might be easier. I could at least try to break down the ones that were tangible.

“I’m not worried about it being my fault. I’m worried about how… angry I am.” He said in defeat, dropping his arms back to his lap. He still didn’t want to touch me, it seemed. Like the same hands that had wielded a gun against a man were too tainted to share.

“I’m angry because… I wanted to kill him, I wanted him to suffer for hurting innocent people and —“ He covered his mouth, and I think the motion surprised himself.

I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible, no matter how illogical I knew that was. It felt like yet another morning was being taken away from us by what had happened before. I didn’t want to think about it; I didn’t want it to torture Spencer the way it did me. It was wishful thinking, and the stupid kind, at that.

Spencer would always blame himself and care too much. While he was always trying to work on the former, I hoped that the world would let him keep the latter. His compassion was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. The thought of losing the man who felt the need to confess to me that he’d lied about checking me out in a crowded club invoked a sadness I never wanted to experience.

Although, the prospect of that loss paled in comparison to the acute sorrow I was feeling right then, holding Spencer while he failed to hold back tears, choking on his words. “I didn’t do it, and then he almost hurt someone else.” He said, his voice growing more frantic as he broke from my hold, grabbing his hair and pulling it like it would do something to stop the thoughts.

“And I’m angry that I wasn’t the one who got to do it. I wasn’t the person who got to kill him.” He spat, rocking forward as I tried to wrap my arms around him again. He didn’t let me, putting an arm out to hold me away from him. Still, he looked at me when he forced himself to say the conclusion that I’d reached the second he told me he had wanted to kill someone.

“I’m angry that I didn’t kill someone, (y/n).”

There were so many things I wanted to say to him that my mind literally couldn’t pick any of them. All I could do was stare at the man I loved, stopping me from doing the only thing I wanted to do. I just wanted to hold him; to remind him that I would love him no matter what. Just like we always did, I wanted my body to express the things that my mouth wouldn’t articulate.

But apparently, I was capable of doing that without even touching him. Because the longer we sat in silence, the more his enraged grimace warped to a frown. “Please, don’t look at me like that.” He begged, unable to take his eyes off of mine. I wondered if he could hear my thoughts, because before I even spoke, he pulled his arm back. “Don’t look at me like I deserve sympathy for that.”

Ignoring the pesky numbness forming in my lower half at the awkward position on the unforgiving tile floor, I thanked the lord that I was finally getting some relief from the narcotics, which allowed me to climb on Spencer’s lap. He’d finally ceased his valiant efforts to keep me away from him, accepting me with his hands on my hips.

When I tried to kiss him, however, he turned his face away with a sharp inhale. Careful not to use too much force, I use a tender hand on his cheek to lead him back to me. His eyes bounced between my lips and eyes, almost like he was asking me to try again.

“I’m not going to pretend you’re a monster to make you feel better, Spencer.” I whispered, attempting to infuse the words with everything I felt.

Whether it worked or not, I could never be sure, but Spencer’s small smile sneaking over his cheek was enough for me. “I’m pretty sure it’d make me feel worse.” He croaked, laughing as he bit his tongue to stop any other jokes from slipping out. Like he was betraying the pain by letting it go.

“Well I’m not going to do that, either.” I returned with a laugh. Then, satisfied that he would accept my affections, I closed the gap between us. The kiss was so soft I could almost question whether our lips touched. But his hands slid over my lower back, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me against him.

Eventually, it became obvious just how tired the both of us were. With a quiet thanks, he rested his face on my shoulder, enjoying the calm after the storm of his feelings that he’d finally released.

“Can you come back to bed?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, holding tighter for a second before he started to help ease me off his lap. “Let’s go, little girl.”

The return to my nickname made me happier than I’d like to admit. At this point, the use of my real name was like a litmus test for his anxiety. And although I could feel Spencer slowly opening back up to me, he still felt so far away when we crawled under the covers.

Turning on my side to face him, I saw something in his eyes that alerted me to just how deeply rooted this problem was. It wasn’t just the event we’d discussed; it was the knowledge that there would be many more like it in the future.

I wondered what Spencer saw when he looked at me. Did he see me like I was in that moment, or was I always going to look like I had before, choking on blood and a confession I wish I could have made more beautiful? Did he see me at all? Or did he just see all the mistakes he’d made? Would all our moments together be marred by the overwhelming tragedy of a single one? More than anything, I just hoped that he didn’t see the faces of the people who had caused us to be in that horrible tableau. I needed Spencer to see beautiful things when he looked at me, because I needed to see them in his eyes. If something so ugly was the biggest thing between us, our relationship would fray with time, each of us unable to truly see the other.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known.” I said into the silent early morning air of his apartment.

As expected, Spencer’s precarious smile broke almost immediately, replaced with violent sobs and an attempt to hide his face from me by burying it in my chest. I let him, wrapping my arms around his head in the hope that I could act like a shield for the world that never let him rest.

“I’ll love you forever,” I let my voice break, but I didn’t let that stop me. “And nothing will ever change that.”

—————————————————

One of the things people never warn you about when you’re dating a bona fide genius is that there is no such thing as a surprise. It was like every time I came up with an idea, Spencer could see it on my face within seconds. I was never really sure how he did it, although he usually had the decency to wait until a normal person would have figured it out to say something. For example, when we were about three streets away from his best friend’s house.

“Why are we going to JJ’s house?” He finally asked, turning to me with a confused but excited expression that almost hid the residual negative feelings that insisted on sticking around a week later.

I glanced over at him, laughing at the way his fingers bounced on his lap. He never was subtle with his emotions. “I may or may not have offered us up as babysitters so she and Will could have a much needed date night.”

From the way his shoulders dropped, I could tell it wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. Still, it didn’t seem like he was disappointed— he was simply trying to read my motivations that were seemingly counter-intuitive.

“Really? Isn’t that gonna be a lot for you?” The concern was evident in his voice, which I found both endearing and a little annoying. It wasn’t this fault, really. I was just so freaking tired of not being able to do basically anything I wanted to. Especially when the thing I wanted to do was watch my boyfriend and his godson.

“Henry may be well behaved, but he’s still a toddler.” Spencer continued, eliciting a deep sigh from me.

“That’s why you’re here.” I half-joked, pulling into the driveway that was starting to feel familiar. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would become friends with the woman I was angrily binge watching clips of on YouTube, I would have asked them if they had me confused for another girl. But, much to Spencer’s delight, JJ and I never really had that awkward phase. From the second that I met her, I knew that we just wanted the same thing: above all, for the people we loved to be happy. And it seemed we both had a soft spot for the man currently in my passenger seat.

“Oh, running after the kid is my job?” He laughed, already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his bag onto his lap in his excitement.

“Yep.” I stuck out my tongue at him, which only made him lean over in an attempt to steal a kiss. I allowed it, if only to bring him within arm’s reach. When he started to pull away, clearly ready to hop out of the car and run to his favorite toddler, I grabbed a fistful of his cardigan in an attempt to keep him closer for a second longer.

“But seriously, Spencer, I…”

He settled into his seat, immediately recognizing the faint tremor in my words. His hand came to rest over mine, and I sighed at the warmth that filled my whole body in seconds.

“I want you to remember that you’re a good person.” I whispered, trying to let him feel how deeply I meant the words, “I know how much you love Henry. I think spending time taking care of someone that’s… not me… will be good for you. And me.”

Those big brown eyes glassed over, glancing down and then away from me as he remembered looking at my stomach didn’t ever do much for his self-hatred. Which, in turn, just made me feel worse. I wondered if there would ever be a day where he could look at me and not feel that way. I desperately hoped that there would be.

Spencer rubbed his eyes to stop any other emotions from spilling out. “Does JJ know we’re using her kid as therapy?” He joked between sniffles.

“She’s a smart lady.” I shrugged, smoothing out the now wrinkled cardigan beneath my fingers. “Besides, Henry said he missed you and it’s hard to say no to him.”

And just like that, Spencer’s bouncing returned, his hand reaching behind him to open the door before he could even open his mouth to speak. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting, then.”

There was no stopping him at that point, and I trailed along behind him, watching as Henry tumbled out of the front door and straight into my boyfriend’s waiting arms on the porch.

The rest of the night went a lot like that, too. Once the novelty of having me there wore off, and Henry realized that my boo-boo made it hard for me to play the way little boys liked to, Spencer returned to his rightful place as Henry’s favorite babysitter.

I didn’t mind; I was perfectly content watching the two of them. Between the cheesy magic tricks that required a little bit of childlike innocence to be entertained by and Spencer’s attempts to follow along with Henry’s excited rants about cartoons my boyfriend had never even heard of, I somehow fell even more in love with the man.

And even though I had planned this for him, it was restorative for me, too. There was this weird, paradoxical guilt you feel when you’re dating someone like him. Although I know that he wanted to spend every waking second of his free time with me, it made me feel like he was missing out on something else. Something better than me.

It was so easy to forget that we could do those things together. In a way, I could thank my injury for that. When we were limited so much on what we could do together, we had to find creative ways to spend time together that were still stimulating for the both of us.

That being said, in that moment I wished for nothing more than rest. Even just watching the two boys together was exhausting, so when Henry’s first yawn sounded, I jumped at the opportunity. Because, see, Spencer was good at the playing, but I was much better at the cuddling.

It wasn’t like he could argue, either, because while Henry curled up next to me on one side, Spencer was on the other, his arm reaching around to rest on the young boy’s back. Despite picking out the movie, Henry fell asleep against my chest within minutes.

And in the quiet calmness of JJ’s house, I found myself almost falling asleep, too. My head rested against Spencer’s shoulder, moving ever so slightly with each deep breath as my eyes struggled to stay open. That was when Spencer kissed the top of my head so delicately that I almost didn’t feel it.

“I love you, little girl.”

My heart skipped a beat at the sound, and the wave of goosebumps and satisfaction covered me like a blanket. If we’d stayed for even a few minutes longer, I would have fallen asleep right there. However, JJ and Will arrived home just in the nick of time. They tried to convince us to stay, but Spencer seemed uncharacteristically excited to leave, so I didn’t question it even though I wanted to. I took the trip home to catch up on my phone and try to wake myself up enough to spend another hour or so awake with him before I passed out.

“Don’t fall asleep yet.”

I perked up in my seat, not entirely sure if he’d actually said the words, or if I’d just imagined them a little too vividly. But when he glanced over at me, I knew that he was just doing that slightly unsettling thing where he read my thoughts.

“Why? You got plans?” I said through a yawn, trying to stretch within the confines of the car.

“As a matter of fact, I do have plans.”

At first, I thought nothing of the smug way he said it— up until I felt his hand slowly slide up my thigh, the pressure of his fingers increasing when he couldn’t go any further.

“This feels familiar.” I chuckled, my mind transporting me back to our first not-a-date. The sensations caused a desire to burn through me so quickly I became lightheaded, my lungs hungry and desperate as Spencer continued to tease me by avoiding the one place he knew I wanted him to touch.

But, of course, just as I reached down to move his hand, he pulled it away altogether.

“Lucky for you, we’re almost home.”

I audibly groaned, knocking my head back against the seat now that Spencer had succeeded in waking me up. “Sometimes, Spencer…” I mumbled, “I remember why I have to be such a fucking brat.”

“It’s my fault, is it?”

There was a distinct darkness and deviancy in his words, despite the joking cadence they were uttered in. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in some time; a voice that was imprinted so vividly in my memory that even just the thought of it would make me putty in his hands. And I knew that I was reminiscing a lot, trying to relive times that had long since passed, but every time I saw a part of the old Spencer — the Spencer who rambled in museums and demanded I cover up my Lolita costume — the more I felt like my life was finally returning to normal.

“Of course it’s your fault. Have you seen me?” I gestured to myself, swamped in a sweatshirt and shorts like a weather-confused idiot. If the clashing clothing wasn’t enough, my make up had smeared from constantly rubbing my eyes. “I’m an angel.” I concluded, intending it to be sarcastic but knowing that he really saw me that way.

And sure enough, Spencer looked me over for just one second before pulling into the parking lot to his apartment complex. “You’re spoiled.” He decided.

“Doesn’t feel that way right now.” I whined, chewing on my bottom lip as I continued to wait for his attention.

But he just parked my car, leaning over to grab his bag from between my legs. Before it got too far, though, I clamped my legs around the leather. “Stop ignoring me!” I said through a pout, only getting more heated as he chuckled in response, tugging on the satchel until it slid from between my legs.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, his other hand grabbing my chin and forcing my bottom lip out from between my teeth. He held my mouth open against my resistance, but as soon as I gave into his hold, he relaxed his grip, leaning forward and pressing a much-too-soft kiss against my lips.

Without even fully breaking away, he turned my head to the side to whisper in my ear, “Get inside and I’ll make it up to you.”

Life was returning to normal. Together we excitedly stumbled through the Langham apartment complex until we got to his door, and he fumbled to unlock it without letting me go.

Everything about the chaos felt comfortable and predictable. I didn’t even notice the dull throbbing in my stomach because Spencer’s hands felt like home. The insistent noise of all my messy insecurities was quieted by his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as we finally crossed the threshold.

“Watching you with Henry, I just...” Spencer began to mumble against my neck, our bodies gravitating toward his room with a complete lack of grace, considering how well I should know the layout by now. We made it to the door, but not his bed, as he pressed me against the wall right on the other side.

His lips were slightly swollen from how feverishly he’d kissed me, his breathing ragged and his hair wild from where my hands had raked through it a few too many times. But his eyes were what really caught my attention, staring into me so deeply that it caused a shiver to roll down my spine. Spencer sensed my hesitance, because he brought a gentle hand to my face before he spoke, quietly but surely.

“I want to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

I thought about before; how those words would have filled me with both a naive joy and overwhelming anxiety. But as I stood there, staring back at him, I felt a genuine smile spreading across my lips.

“We speak in a lot of ‘one days,’ Dr. Reid.”

I couldn’t tell the effect the words had on him, although I had a few guesses. I’d avoided the part of the sentence he’d meant for me to hear the loudest. We both knew I’d heard it. At the same time, I hadn’t denied the idea or given any reason to suggest I wasn’t happy about the statement.

“I’m serious.” He insisted, not ready to drop the subject just yet.

Unfortunately for him, though, I had other plans. As much as the talk of marriage gave me butterflies, there were more immediate needs I wanted him to fulfill. So, without saying anything, I subtly suggested that he put off the conversation and switch to other activities with a firm hand against the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

“God, I want to fuck you.” He immediately groaned, his head lolling forward and resting against mine. I figured that it would be harder to convince him to fuck me now that he wasn’t drunk, but he seemed even more willing now that we’d already made the leap of faith once. Nothing bad had happened to me then, and the dramatic improvement of my mood was helpful for both of us.

So I began to slide down the wall, my hands raking down his chest as I giggled, “Let me help you.”

Spencer’s hands moved so quickly and with such strength that it surprised the both of us. Luckily, he’d grabbed my hips instead of my stomach, halting me before I could drop to my knees.

“No.” He firmly corrected, lifting me back to my normal height before turning the two of us around so that my back was to the bed. “It’s my turn.”

Much gentler now, he helped lower me onto the bed, but he didn’t follow me yet.

“Take off your clothes.” He instructed me as he removed his own.

I listened, watching him intently to try and determine his plans before he actually got to me. But he kept his expressions to a minimum, only giving away his enthusiasm in watching me sheepishly remove my clothing. My shirt was still on when he climbed onto the bed and over my body.

“I want to see you.” There was something pitiful about the way he uttered the words, and my hands hesitated, holding tightly to the hem of my shirt as I avoided his eyes.

“You have an eidetic memory, Spencer. You know what it looks like.”

“I’ll never stop wanting to see you. You’re so beautiful, (y/n).” He used my name, and my body reacted just as quickly as he realized his mistake. Grabbing my arms before I could close them over me, he brought my wrists against the bed beside my head. “You can leave it on for now.”

What he said provided me all the context I needed to know what he was planning, and I locked my legs around him, hoping that I could stall him for a few moments.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me.” I begged, arching my back and baring my neck to him, knowing that he could see my erratic pulse in my neck.

“I can’t. Not yet.” His voice was strained, one hand raised so that his fingers could brush over my neck. “It won’t be much longer.”

Frustrated by his undying desire to take care of me, I used my hand that he’d released to grab a handful of his hair. “I want to feel you inside of me again.” I moaned through the words, my heels digging into his back and bringing his hips down to meet mine. I watched as his eyelids fluttered shut, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I want to see the look on your face when you fill me up.” I continued, bucking up in search of the delicious friction I’d been deprived of for months now. “I know what you’re thinking when you do it.”

“F-fuck.” He struggled to lower his hand to hold my hips down, but I could tell he was scared he would hurt me in the process. It was a dangerous game, to ever put me in this position when neither of us had pants on. Spencer’s confidence wavered as he choked on his words, “This isn’t going to work.”

“You can’t think about that if I’m not touching you.”

“Yes, I can.” He responded with no hesitation, his eyebrows raising in a challenge.

“But isn’t it so much more fun when it’s actually possible?” I cooed.

“It’s always possible, it’s just so unlikel— Fuck!” Spencer cut off by his own gasp when I finally succeeded in pulling him against my heat.

The noise that I gave was something between a sigh and a moan, and I swore I saw Spencer’s pupils dilate in response. There were just some things he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried. But my satisfaction was short lived, and Spencer sat up on his knees to place a manageable distance between us.

“We’re not doing this.” He growled through clenched teeth, his nails raking over my thighs before he removed them entirely. “Stop being a greedy fucking brat and spread your legs.”

I waited a second, hoping that Spencer would get impatient and force my legs open himself. But he flashed me a look, warning me that if I didn’t behave, he could very easily just send me to bed without any satisfaction. And as much as I wanted to call his bluff, the idea of going to bed without getting to touch him was so upsetting.

So, I slowly dropped my legs open, running my hands over the skin still burning from where his hands had touched me. And even slower, Spencer lowered himself until his face rested against my thigh, the scruff of his cheek causing a shiver to run up my body.

“Don’t tell me that a few months of me pampering you has undone all of my hard work.” He murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

But the fact that I did was evidenced by my laugh. “That would imply you’ve actually accomplished something to undo, but I’m just as bratty as the day you met me, Dr. Reid.”

He smiled, his eyes focusing on my face as I continued to giggle, now urged on by the way his breath tickled my inner thigh. “Is that right?” He said in that familiar cocky voice. “Because I happen to recall that the first time that I did this, you tried to stop me.”

The blood rushed to my cheeks as my mind replayed the memory of his smirk from when he had held my legs open for him.

‘You’re not broken, little girl. Promise.’ Just the thought of the words was enough to cloud my mind, but I was dedicated to besting him in this exchange. If he was going to be arrogant, then I would give him the best challenge I could.

“Would you rather I fought you?” I asked, beginning to pull my legs shut before he grabbed them and pulled them over his shoulders.

“No. The instructions for tonight should be very easy to follow; even for you.”

I was trying to pay attention, but it was getting harder the closer he came to actually fucking doing something. It was so obvious that he was getting off on the way my eyes were barely able to stay open, my chest moving with each half-sob that came when he would lay a kiss against my hips.

“What are they?” I slurred, grabbing handfuls of the sheets to prevent myself from forcing him against me.

It was clearly the exact question he was waiting for, a devilish smirk stretching over his cheeks as he dragged his lips down to where I wanted them, moving them against my skin to say, “Stay still, and don’t be quiet.”

While I appreciated the instruction, I feared that it was in vain. Because when Spencer finally flattened his tongue against me, I couldn’t have stopped myself from immediately crying out if I tried.

My hands retained their death grip on the sheets, partially making up for the fact that my body immediately disobeyed his command to stay still. But I couldn’t help it; the long strokes of his tongue up and down my sex felt like pure bliss. And honestly, it wasn’t even just the physical sensations. It was just the knowledge that we were back where we should be; shamelessly indulging in our need for each other without inhibitions. Spencer was clearly enjoying himself, his hands struggling to gently hold me down while he devoured me like a man starved.

I couldn’t look at him, my head bent so far back I could see the headboard. His name fell from my mouth like a mantra, my hips rolling against each motion of his tongue.

“I missed you.” I cried, my legs once again locking around him, my heels on his back as I wished I could pull him closer. “I missed this so badly, Spencer.”

He couldn’t really answer, although I think the moan that he gave was meant to be a response. The vibrations almost sent me over the edge, but right before they could, he pulled back ever so slightly.

I glanced down to figure out why, and was met with his eyes watching me intently, analyzing every response I was giving him; memorizing the way my body shook with need after just a few weeks in his absence.

“Please, don’t stop.” I begged, not caring how pathetic the words sounded when they broke in my throat.

“Oh, I’m not.” He mumbled against me, raising his lips to close around the bundle of nerves at my crest.

At first, I just sighed, appreciating the soft flicks and swirls of his tongue that would eventually build up another release. But it was when I closed my eyes that he revealed his plan.

Without any warning, I felt his finger slip between my folds, thrusting into me with one fluid motion as my wanton moans filled the room. He didn’t let them distract him, his mouth intent on the rhythm it had set, and his hand insistently working to match it.

There was nothing comprehensible in the noises I made, and neither of us seemed to mind. Spencer was only urged on, quickly adding a second finger in his ruthless pace that finally forced me to release the wrinkled sheets in my hands. Instead, they wound through his hair, pulling me against him as I chased my release.

“Please.” I whined, hoping that he would know what I was asking for. Because I didn’t even know what I was asking for— just that he could give it to me.

And sure enough, he did, his fingers beginning to curl inside of me with each motion. I used all of the energy I could muster had to keep my hips relatively still, although they were still trembling with the tension spreading through my muscles that tightened around him.

I wanted to call out his name, to give him the praise and recognition he deserved, but my tongue was tied in the haze of pleasure that overtook me. I could barely breathe, my mind transported to some alternate universe where there was only Spencer and myself. There was no point in identifying where we diverged, because he felt so much like a part of me in that moment, I could never separate from him again.

My walls fluttered around his fingers that still pumped into me with the same vigor. His tongue continued to circle my clit while he gently sucked, clearly lost in his own form of pleasure from the activity.

I wished I could touch him more. I wanted to drag him up to my lips, turn him onto his back and ride him until my legs gave out. But I couldn’t; my body tired and no longer used to the energy we once made a habit of spending on each other on any given day. It had used that energy to dull the pain so I could enjoy the relatively tame experience we had just shared.

As I came down from my orgasm, I was filled with guilt over the fact that I hadn’t so much as touched him once in this entire encounter, and now my hands weren’t even able to keep my grip on his hair as he lifted his head.

Spencer seemed none the wiser about the shame brewing in my head, and he wiped his mouth to reveal a lovesick smile beneath his hand.

“Good girl.” He rasped, crawling up to my side rather than on top of me. With a tender hand, he brushed aside the strands of my hair that stuck to the sweat on my face. “I knew you could behave.”

He sounded so proud of me, which only served to intensify the guilt now pouring from my heart and tainting the rest of what should have been a beautiful memory. I clung to the little bit of light I saw in those toffee eyes.

“How dare you imply I’m ever capable of such a thing.” I chuckled, reaching out to hold him somehow.

He took my hand in his, raising it to his lips for a brief kiss before resting them both against his heart.

“Can I help you?” I sounded drunk from my exhaustion, but hopefully determined enough to convince him I was willing. He didn’t buy it.

“No, go to sleep.”

He leaned forward like he was going to kiss me, but then brought his fingers down over my eyes, brushing over my lids in an attempt to get me to close them. To his credit, it worked, but only for a second before they snapped back open.

“That’s not fair!” I murmured, pulling the sheet over me while I tried to sneak closer to him. I noticed the way he scrutinized my free hand’s movements, ready to stop it from doing too much.

‘It’s gonna be like that, huh?’ I didn’t let it stop me from trying. I didn’t even get to his bellybutton before he snatched my wrist.

“I said no.”

“You know... I could help you without touching you.” I offered instead, pressing my hand against his chest since he wouldn’t let it move any lower. “It’s not the first time we’ve touched ourselves for each other.”

Spencer snorted at the reference, bringing my hands up to his neck, where they happily ran through his now tangled hair.

“That didn’t end well for me last time.”

“I bet you still finished without me.” I teased, my tongue slipping out from my mouth. “Did my pictures come in handy?”

“Like you said— I have an eidetic memory. I don’t need pictures.”

The most noticeable part of his response wasn’t the way his cheeks turned pink, but rather that he didn’t deny that he’d used the pictures. Knowing they were long gone now, considering Penelope’s tendency to snoop too much for her own good, I wondered if that memory was filed away somewhere special in his mind.

“You especially don’t need them when I’m right here.” I purred, tugging him closer by his hair until the gap between us was gone, our lips pressed feverishly against the other.

It was always like that. Like the second we touched, the proverbial dam between us turned to dust. Within a matter of seconds, we’d be so wrapped up in each other that we didn’t care about the wreckage left in our wake.

Spencer didn’t let it get that far, though. He hadn’t in some time.

“You have had enough excitement for one day. I don’t need anything.” He clarified, clearing his throat and acting like I couldn’t feel his erection pressed against my thigh. Still, his next statement was so genuine I couldn’t have argued with it if I tried. “I just wanted to take care of you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

But on the topic of wanting, I knew I felt it more. “I want things to be normal again.” I answered quickly, an urgency blooming in my throat that died when I tried to finish the thought. “I feel so... useless.”

His hand has grabbed my chin before I even noticed its absence on my hip. He held my face towards him, a dark and pained timbre in his voice.

“Don’t ever think that.”

It was a plea. I wanted to give him the relief and assurance he sought, but my gut told me to be honest with him, even if it hurt us.

“It’s just that before, we... did so much more and I’m scared that I won’t...”

Why was it so hard? He was looking at me like he would do anything to stop me from feeling even the slightest discomfort, but I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want him to worry. I wanted to make him as happy as he made me, but...

“I’m scared that I won’t ever be able to do it again.”

He couldn’t tell me that I was wrong. If he tried to make it only about my physical condition, he risked the chance of me telling him I don’t want to do it ever again. Did I feel that way? It was hard to tell; it was too early to tell. But the crushing despair that I felt at the thought of losing that part of our relationship suggested I did not feel that way.

“Hey. Look at me.” Spencer’s voice tore me away from the intrusive thoughts about our inevitable fallout, his hand still holding me in place in front of him, and his eyes still promising me the world.

“Just because we’ve done something before doesn’t mean we ever have to do it again.”

The words felt like the first breath after struggling for air underwater and finally breaking the surface just in the nick of time. Why were they such a relief? I couldn’t figure it out, but was too afraid to ask, fearing how Spencer might take it. Although, the tears pooling at my lashes gave him more than enough to read.

“Tell me you understand.” His request was as gentle as always. After a moment of trying, and failing, to collect myself, I nodded.

He sighed, cautiously moving his palm to cup my cheek. It was his voice that broke then. “I know this is hard, but I need you to use your big girl words for this. I need to make sure you hear me.”

“I understand.” My throat ached as I forced the words out. I could tell he wasn’t convinced but knew any argument would be meaningless while we were both so tired.

“Thank you.” He said, anyway. And like the prettiest sounding broken record, he let his fingertips trail over any exposed area he could find as he spoke the same words I’d heard before, even more insistent. “Even if you never touched me again, just knowing that you’re alive and happy... That alone makes the happiest man in the world.”

Spencer’s lips pressed against my forehead, resting there for a little too long. From the uneven shake of his breath, I knew he was hiding something, but didn’t want to ask what. I suspected they were tears.

I had disappointed him again. I had hurt him, yet again. I hadn’t meant to.

“It’s all that I need. To know that you’re happy.” There was an implicit message hiding in those words.

He was saying he wanted me to be happy, consciously neglecting to voice the resigned addition, ‘even if it’s not with me.’

“I know.” I whispered, half asleep as he continued drawing patterns on my skin. I meant to tell him that he was the only man who’d ever made me feel truly happy, safe, and loved— the only one I trusted with my heart. But all that came out was a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said back, leaving me to wonder if he’d heard what I meant.

—————————————————

After everything I’d been through, I’d sworn that I would never want to be in a hospital ever again. But, unfortunately for me, it seemed my stubbornness extended even to my own limits, which explained why I was currently walking through the doors of the residential inpatient ward. It was a good idea in theory, to volunteer in the last place I wanted to be so that I could grow used to being there again.

It didn’t have to be a scary place.

Especially since the people around me weren’t the typical hospital patients. In fact, the people there weren’t even the usual patients of the hospital. Apparently, the ward was hosting a group of traveling patients that had been deemed fit for a vacation to the nation’s capital.

My assignment was simple enough - simply meet with a person and discuss the book they were currently reading. There was no requirement that we had to have read the book before, considering that would leave most people without a partner at all.

I was expecting to meet someone to discuss some niche romance novel or whatever had recently come out in theaters, but as I scanned the list of books, one stuck out to me more than the others.

The Book of Margery Kempe (1501).

It wasn’t the book itself that piqued my interest— I’d never read it. I had, however, listened to Spencer explain the entire premise to me on several occasions. Unsurprisingly, no one else volunteered for the book from the fifteenth century that referred to the main character as “this creature.” No one until me, that is.

There was no questioning who my partner was when I entered the room, spotting her quickly on the outskirts of the room with the book in her hand, but her eyes fixed on the raindrops slowly dripping down the window.

“Hi, are you Diana?”

She jumped a little at the sound of my voice, and I tried not to be consumed by guilt for surprising her despite my best efforts not to.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n). I’m sorry if I scared you. I was assigned to be your book buddy today.” I explained, gesturing to the book on her lap with a smile that wasn’t big enough to be fake. From what the nurses had told me about her, I figured it was best to just be as genuine as possible… which made my answer to her next question a little more difficult.

“You’ve read this book?”

“Actually, I haven’t. No one had.” I laughed, pulling another chair over to her before taking a seat. “But I have heard someone go through basically the entire story in their own words, so...” I never finished the thought, cut off by a slight scoff from the woman.

“I figured. You’re very young.”

“Hey! Young people can read the classics.” I defended, crossing the lower half of my legs and tucking my hands between my knees. It probably gave away some of my nerves, but I figured it was alright considering she wasn’t a profiler and Spencer wasn’t here.

“But you don’t.” She wryly noted.

“Guilty. My boyfriend does, though.” I acquiesced, albeit a bit distracted as my mind decided to focus on those memories rather than the current reality.

“At least you’ve got that exposure. It’s important to learn these things.”

For a second, it felt like I was being lectured by my boyfriend, making it hard not to laugh, which I was pretty sure she didn’t appreciate.

“Can you tell me about it? I want to know if my boyfriend was just making stuff up.” I shrugged, laughing while I found myself avoiding her eyes. She noticed that behavior; most people would.

But to my surprise, she started to explain the book, anyway. Less surprising was the realization that Spencer hadn’t made up any of it. It was clear as day from their similar words that they had definitely read the same book. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought they’d discussed it together, too.

She was more talented than he was at explaining, though. Maybe it was a little bit my fault, considering I always got distracted by his voice. But with her, it really did feel like someone sharing a part of themselves. I could tell how deeply she cared for literature, and it made me more excited to hear about the chaste holy woman that found herself tempted by jealousy and sex.

When her story was winding to an end, I was almost sad that it was over. “You must have been a professor.” I mumbled, having already forgotten the information I was given by the nurses.

She was quick to correct me, her mouth curling into a frown as she said, “I still am. I’m just not on the campus anymore.”

“Of course. Gotta stay sharp, right?” I half-heartedly joked, sitting up from my slouched position. A brief stint of silence stretched between us and glancing at the clock I realized that it would still be a little while until Spencer could come get me. So, I turned back to the woman in front of me, noticing the way she stared out the window as she chewed on her nails.

“Is that why you wanted to visit D.C.?” I wondered aloud, and her response didn’t help assuage that curiosity at all.

“I... have another reason.”

“That sounds very mysterious, Diana.” I giggled, leaning forward and whispering, “Are you secretly a rebel?”

She scoffed, but I detected amusement behind the apparent derision. “Nothing like that.”

As sneaky and vague as she was being, and the fact that I had been warned of her paranoia, I still found myself wanting to ask her what could possibly make her as happy as her current thought.

“So what is it?” I said, leaning back in an effort to seem less insistent, explaining my intentions in a rant reminiscent of my boyfriend. “I don’t mean to pry, I just... you got really happy and I’d love to share in that excitement.”

“That’s just selfish.”

She really was so much like him.

“That’s how you know I won’t judge you.” I pointed out, raising one hand in the air and placing the other on my heart.

“I’m not worried about that.” She just waved her hand at me, ignoring my dramatic gesticulations and sighing as she glanced down at the book once more. After another moment of contemplation, her eyes flicked up to me so quickly I almost missed them, analyzing my features one more time before she carefully said, “I’m here to visit my son.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Although her expression was anxious, she still seemed at least a little relieved to have shared her plans with someone.

“He is.” She returned, lightly brushing the back of the book, almost like she was trying to remember something etched on the beveled hardcover. “He’s a good boy. Very bright. He has wonderful adventures. He goes all over the country. He used to tell me everything but... he’s gotten too busy for his mother these past few years.”

As I took in the words, I felt the pain in her voice. My heart wrenched in my chest, imagining how awful it must be to not have a chance to talk to your family. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to ignore you.” At least, I hoped not. She had so many stories to tell, even in just this short window, I couldn’t imagine anyone would want to avoid her. Then again… I knew it could be hard.

“I know he’s busy. That’s why I wanted to come here. It makes it easier for him.” She was confident in her explanation, and I nodded back with similar gusto.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“No. I’m going to have them call him today.”

We were both happy then, and I clapped my hands together in front of me to suppress the urge to touch her as I excitedly replied, “I hope you get to see him.”

“Me too,” she agreed, simultaneously hopeful and defeated, before turning back to the window with the same wistfulness as before. “If not, the museums will be nice, too.”

“Hey, if you need a docent, I could always call my boyfriend. He would be so excited to talk to a fellow scholar who could actually follow along.” I excitedly replied, rocking forward in my chair with a goofy grin at the thought. She reminded me enough of him that I figured the two would get along. He’d at least understand what she talked about, unlike me.

“There’s no one that can compare to my son.” She warned, narrowing her eyes and pouting in a way I swore I’d seen before on another face.

“I bet. He does sound a lot like him, though. I bet they’d be friends.” The gears in my brain, rusted and slightly worn, started to turn. “They actually might be... my boyfriend lives near here.”

And that was when it hit me, the obvious conclusion I’d been avoiding for some reason. That creeping, unsettling familiarity wasn’t from coincidence; it was my brain recognizing her as an extension of the man I loved.

“...What’s your son’s name?”

She never got to answer, because no sooner had I finished saying the words thanwe both heard Spencer’s voice from the door behind us.

“Mom?”

The realization crashed into all three of us like a goddamn freight train. And even with my flair for the dramatic, I found my head spinning as I tried to will time to rewind itself.

“Spencer? How did you know I was here?” Diana said through a confused gasp, turning to me to see the equally stunned look on my face.

“I didn’t… I—“

They both turned to me, but I was too busy staring halfway between them, my jaw dropped open and my brain suddenly devoid of any helpful thought.

When it decided to finally be helpful, it was only marginally better. “Well… that makes a lot of sense.” I said with a cringeworthy laugh. When neither of them laughed, and continued to stare at me, I quickly shot up from my chair and waved a shaking hand. “You should talk to your mom. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

I didn’t get very far before Spencer’s hand caught my wrist, his wild eyes wide and insistent as he crackled, “Actually, I need a minute alone with you. If that’s okay.”

I turned to Diana for her permission but found nothing useful. She was also still caught up in the disaster that had just occurred, and turned back to her son who seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Sorry mom, I’ll… I’ll be right back.”

Spencer nearly dragged me out of the room, shutting the door and hiding out of sight of any windows. If he was ready to unleash his pent up anxiety, though, he wasn’t quick enough.

“Spencer, what the shit?!” I whisper-yelled, the sound echoing through the sterile hallway.

My boyfriend didn’t have any answers, his hands raking through his hair as he clearly tried to calm his heart and rapid breath. “I’m sorry I— I didn’t know that she was here! What is she doing here?!”

“Oh my god. Shut up. I’m freaking out. What if she thinks I’m weird?” I rambled back, grabbing my chest once I realized that I was freaking out just was badly as the idiot in front of me. Because seriously, he couldn’t tell me his mom’s name so I wouldn’t be blindsided like this?

Then again, I guess I couldn’t talk.

“What did you say to her?” He whispered back, dragging his hands over his face. He seemed eerily calm while asking, considering just how much we could have gotten into during our conversation. Although, I guess it would have been weird to share the more intimate, embarrassing details with a stranger at a hospital.

“I don’t know! We just talked about you!”

“You talked about me?!”

“Well we didn’t know we were both talking about you!” I said was quietly as possible, which was not quiet at all. Waving my arms between us, I tried to explain the jumbled mess in my head. “She was talking about her son and I was talking about my boyfriend and— Actually, that reminds me.”

“What?”

His answer came in the form of a soft thwack on the back of his head. He jumped, raising his hands to his head in both shock and embarrassment at the public chastisement, despite there being no one around to witness it.

“Call your mother, asshole!”

“Ow?! Don’t hit me!” He whined, and I could tell from the tone that the only damage done was to his ego.

“Stop ignoring your mother! You shouldn’t even be out here!” I reminded him, laying my hands against his chest and beginning to push him back towards the door. “Get back in there!”

Spencer’s hands held onto mine, and for the first time in a while I noticed that they were shaking. The lighthearted panic I’d felt seconds before vanished, replaced with a painful sadness that seemed to bleed from him into my hands.

“I’m not trying to ignore her, I just…” His eyes were struggling to focus, and the crackle in his voice warned me that there was something he was trying to avoid saying. “I can explain… This.”

I didn’t need to hear it.

“Explain what?” I meant the question to be an expression of my feelings, but it seemed to freak him out more. Like I actually expected an answer for why his mother was in a program like this. Like the reason he had kept that from me mattered. I already knew the reason he didn’t tell me— It was pretty obvious.

“Spencer, I don’t care that she’s here. That doesn’t bother me.”

From the faraway look in his eyes, I knew he didn’t really believe me. I couldn’t blame him entirely. The shame was clear on his features. But I also knew that nothing I could say in that moment would make him believe me; it would probably take a long time. That was okay. We had time.

“I’m serious. She’s your mother and you love her, so of course I’m going to like her.” I tried to reassure him anyway, and I noticed the small twitch of his pout that slowly turned into a pitiful smile.

Trying to keep that upward trend, I motioned to my absolutely ridiculous outfit and bedhead before I laughed, “I’m mostly just mortified about the fact that I just met your mother looking like this and acting like a fucking moron.”

Thankfully, Spencer laughed back. His hands gripped mine tighter, and through the tears that stayed perched on his eyes without falling, he croaked, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… go see your mom. I’ll go hang out in the cafeteria for a minute.” I jumped up on my toes, yanking my hands back only to them around his neck.

His arms caught me like they always did, holding me so tightly against him that I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. I kissed him just as hard, trying to remind him that there was nothing in the world that could ruin the happiness I felt when he held me.

I held his face as the kiss ended, squishing his cheeks together and warping his smile in the process. I was just grateful that it was still there.

“And take your time talking to her, because I am fucking starving.” I instructed. The crisp hospital air on my skin was cold as he left, but inside my chest, butterflies erupted that kept me warm. He gave me one final goofy wave before we went our separate ways again.

As I wandered through the hospital halls, I wondered if he knew how nervous I actually was. I couldn’t tell him yet; he would misinterpret it, regardless of his profiling skills. He would see the anxiety in my interactions with her as my fear over his future mental state instead of what it really was— fear that the other woman he loved wouldn’t approve of me.

There was no sense in worrying about it yet. Diana and I had shared a great time together as far as I could tell, and I would definitely make sure that Spencer spent more time talking to her in the future. So as depressing as the hospital cafeteria could be, it wasn’t so bad that day.

—————————————————

Being alone with Diana was so much different after I’d learned that she was Spencer’s mother. Then again, we weren’t really alone - Spencer was there, he’d just passed out and somehow ended up with his head against the pillow on my lap. I was a little surprised by how comfortable he was being so touchy feely in front of his mother, but I’d also recognized the exhaustion the second he walked into the hospital. He’d been out cold for at least 10 minutes, and I was barely able to stay awake, myself.

Diana seemed wide awake, though, watching the minute rise and fall of Spencer’s shoulder as he slept. At least, I thought that was what she was watching, but it could have also been my hand stroking his arm.

“My son seems very happy.”

I looked up, shaken by the sudden sound after nearly falling asleep to the rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my knee. “I think that has more to do with you being here.” I said through a yawn.

“I’m not so sure.” That was all she said, quiet and skeptical. Her eyes were scrutinizing everything she could see, and I thanked the stars that I didn’t have to go through this without him here, at least. At least we’d had one nice memory together first.

“Are you the reason he’s been so busy?”

I was dreading the question but had already planned my response. “I hope not. His job is so stressful, and he spends so much of his free time taking care of me.” I looked down at the mop of brown hair that hadn’t been brushed.

When I ran my hand through the ends of his curls, he shifted on my lap, his hand coming up to grab my thigh as he buried his face into the pillow. I chuckled at the clingy movements, which poorly contrasted my words.

“It makes me feel awful.”

I expected her to look disappointed or disturbed by the action, but she mostly just looked… sad.

“He’s good at taking care of people.” She explained, her head jerking away to stare at the lamp beside her. “I made him do it too often.”

Her answer hurt me in more ways than one. It hurt me because I felt the guilt and shame in her voice over something that she had no control over, which was obviously something that should never happen. But it also hurt because I heard myself in it, and I had to ask myself if, just like I had found traits of my father in Spencer, he’d found his mother in me.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be ashamed of being like her - she was brilliant and obviously cared for him deeply. It was the source of the shame that frightened me.

Was he just with me to take care of me? How soon would he grow tired of that? What would happen when I got better? Would I ever? Did I even want to, if that meant he would leave?

They were terrible, awful thoughts to have. So, I did what I was best at, and shoved them back into the corner of my mind to revisit when I was desperate and alone.

“I think he would disagree. He obviously loves you very much.” Was what I said, instead.

“I could say the same for you.” There was a slight bitterness in her words that forced a frown out of me. The words were forceful, almost like a compulsion that she wanted to fight but was too tired to win. She seemed to regret that, too.

“I know my son... and I’ve never seen him like this before.” She pointed to him on my lap, still sound asleep despite the conversation happening above him. “I don’t think he’s ever slept that well with me. And…”

Part of me wanted to tell her that it wasn’t always like this. I wanted her to know that it had nothing to do with any failing of her own, but a failing on the part of the rest of the world for hurting him when neither of us had been there. But she probably felt the same guilt I did that we couldn’t fix those broken parts. Her eyes met mine, and in the reflection, I saw both of our apprehension.

“I’ve never felt like a girl was taking my son away from me before.”

The breath wasn’t knocked from me, but it did fall out of me in a slow, shaky exhale. I didn’t know what to say back, terrified by the implication behind the words just as much as the fact she felt them.

“He’ll always be yours first.” I promised her, refusing to look away from her eyes even as she refused to meet them. I needed her to know that I would never be a threat to them. That all I wanted or cared about was that he was happy and safe, and that I knew she felt the same.

“Then he should call me more.” Diana said, wry humor bleeding back into the conversation despite how heavy it had become.

“I’ll make sure he does.” I answered, my hands resuming their gentle soothing motions. I saw her hand mimicking the actions against her blanket and found myself wondering about things I’d never ask her. I knew virtually nothing about his childhood aside from the prodigy thing, but it was clear that his father was not in the picture, and that he was very close with his mother.

I couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect him. Just as I had thought it, she’d said it herself.

“When you’re kind like my son, the world will eat you alive if no one is protecting you.”

Maybe Spencer had gotten that mind reading trait from his mother, rather than his profiler training, I thought.

“Are you going to protect him?”

I wasn’t ready for that question. Honestly, I hadn’t even considered it. In all the time we’d been together, I’d selfishly worried about how any harm to him would affect me. In my defense, it had always seemed the more likely scenario.

I was so worried about being the source of his hurt or not being able to fix it that I never thought about how I could prevent it. It almost felt… inevitable. Everyone who loved me got hurt, and he’d already made up his mind on that topic.

“I’m going to try.” The hesitance in my voice gave away my anxieties, and Diana spoke quicker and bolder.  

“You said he takes care of you, but what do you do for him?”

The walls were closing in on me, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. My hand on Spencer’s arm grabbed his shirt before I noticed. I wanted him to be awake, to hold me and tell me that it would be okay. I wanted to be far away from that conversation— that question.

“I-I…” I mumbled, trying to flatten my hand as his mother saw it, trying to act like I wasn’t a fucking child clinging to her boyfriend to save her from a question she didn’t have a satisfying answer to.

It was too late, and Diana covered her mouth as she looked away. “I see.” She said before we both went silent.

The silence didn’t help either, though. If anything, it felt worse. Like my chest had been torn open and she could see all the contents, and the longer I gave her to draw her own conclusions about what she saw, the worst they would become.

That was stupid, right? I couldn’t tell. She liked me, right? Did it matter?

“He told me he wants to get married and have kids and I’m just...” I started to ramble, my hands now hovering above Spencer as I stared down at him, still sleeping soundly like the world wasn’t crushing me above him. In a panic, I looked up to Diana with what I can only assume was a terrified, frantic look. “I’m worried. I’m scared that he won’t be as happy as he could be if he stays with me instead of... someone else. And that question scares me because I still don’t know why he cares about me so much when I can’t give him half of what he gives me.”

My chest heaved from a combination of the lack of breath and skyrocketing pulse. Diana peered at me through her peripherals, a battle visible behind her gaze.

“Most people would be scared to admit that. Especially to his mother.” She thought out loud, and I knew she was weighing my open admission to determine how likely it was that I was lying.

“I figured lying would be worse. I know honesty is important to your family.” I confessed, hoping that my openness wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass. “I don’t ever want to lie to either of you.”

I left off the ‘again.’

“You know what I think?” Diana said, tapping her chin and readjusting the blanket over her legs as she found a way to be more comfortable with the tension floating in the air.

I took it as a good sign. I hoped it was a good sign. I looked at her in anticipation.

“I think... you two will be happier than you think.” Diana’s lips curled ever so slightly as she held her own hand, rubbing the back of her hand the same way Spencer often rubbed mine. “Love is more than similar beliefs. It’s wanting to share your life with someone. Wanting to see them happy.”

Despite the content of her words, it didn’t feel like a lecture. It was… warm, and comforting. Her voice sounded familiar and loving and safe. She was the one who had taught Spencer to talk.

“I love my son more than anything else in the world. I won’t let anyone take him away unless I’m positive that he will be happy.” Diana finished; the warning grave but her voice quiet.

“I understand.” I replied just as softly, finally looking back down to Spencer. My heart felt like it would burst from the image. As much as I wanted him to see me and his mother having a heart to heart, it was best not to worry him with our battling affections, no matter how minimal the risk.

“Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air because I was still so caught up in his face that I almost forgot she couldn’t read my mind.

“Yes.” I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I breathlessly repeated, “Yes, I do. I love him.”

Diana must have heard the strain in my voice and seen the tiredness in my eyes, because the threatening tone faded. “Then take care of him.” She said, more like a plea than a demand. “Take care of him like I never could, because you know how much he deserves it.”

I nodded, excitedly and happily, my voice breaking and interrupted by a hard swallow to rid myself of the lump in my throat when I said, “I will.”

With perfect timing, Spencer’s body jerked under my hand as it found its way back to his shoulder. “What are you guys talking about?” He slurred before even opening his eyes, clearly bothered by the lost time wherein his mother and I could have spoken about any number of horrifying things.

“We were just saying it’s time for me to head out.” I lied, and Diana’s sly smirk was enough of an indication for me to feel alright about it. It was funny—I’d just told her I never wanted to lie to him, but this one seemed pretty harmless. She deserved alone time with her son, after all.

“Do you want me to drive you?” He finally sat up, rubbing his face to try and get rid of the creases that had formed from the pillow’s texture.

I laughed at the question because he was so obviously not in a position to drive. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gotten an Uber after leaving his place, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. At least this time wasn’t a walk of shame.

“No, I’m fine. You stay here and spend time with your mom. Awake, this time.” I warned, poking him on the nose and earning a playful giggle from the grown man at my side. “She came a long way. She deserves it.”

He quickly got me back, grabbing my face and pulling me forward to plant a kiss on my forehead. And as much as I would have preferred one on the lips, I was grateful for his sudden modesty in front of his mother. It still felt strange.

“Okay. I love you. Drive safe please. And tell me when you get home.” He instructed as I nodded along, already having memorized the speech from every time I’d ever left him.

“Of course.” I murmured through a somewhat embarrassed pout before I got up and grabbed my things.

Before I made my way to the door, I stopped, turning to see Spencer take the seat beside his mother. She took his hand, but she looked at me. I thought about hugging her but knew that Spencer’s company was far superior to mine, and that every second I distracted her was one less she got with him. So, I settled for a wave and a smile.

“Goodnight Diana. Thanks for the talk.”

“Goodnight.” She returned, with a contented smile washing over her as her son rested his head on her shoulder. The final image of the two of them happy in each other’s company was enough to satisfy me until the next time I saw him. Because, like we’d just discussed, he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

As I opened the door to leave, she spoke again. “Thank you.” She said, and I knew she was talking about more than the conversation.

“Anytime.”

—————————————————

| Part 19 |

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capitainelevi · 3 years ago

Note

Drabble Challenge!! 5 and 19, can you combine them too???

Thank you for your ask!! ❤️❤️ Drabble challenge: Followers send a number to your ask and you write a drabble using that sentence/prompt in your piece.

“You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” and “And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations.”

Growing up Petra has to take an emergency trip back home, leaving Levi to care for the two daughters they have together. Just how wrong could things get?

Canon universe. Word count: 1784

Petra could feel the judgmental eyes of her driver on her as she picked up the “disgusting” habit of chewing her nails again, as her husband would put it. She could feel anxiousness pouring out of her, half expecting to find her house in ruin on her arrival. Had it not been for her emergency trip to see her father in Paradise, leaving Levi alone with their two daughters would have been the last choice Petra would have made. It wasn`t that she didn`t trust her husband, no, but she knew he could be… hard to deal with.

Neither of them made it out of the war unscathed, and while Petra managed to keep her sunny side alive, Levi`s gruffness and pessimism only deepened. But Petra could always glimpse behind the cold exterior, being able to sense just how much her husband adored his little girls, even as they were in the process of putting his hair up in pigtails.

But no matter how much her husband loved his family, he was still a grumpy old man, which often put him at odds with their daughter going through her teen years. No matter how much Petra tried to prepare Levi for the inevitable change, her husband was not ready to accept “his little girl” was not little anymore. His overprotectiveness often suffocated Eve, leading to Petra taking her daughter`s side in most of the arguments between daughter and father.

Left on the sidewalk with her bags by her side, Petra took a glimpse at her house, relieved to see it had not gone up in flames in the few days that she was away from it. She took a deep breath as she gathered her courage to make her way inside to evaluate the damage done. The house was quiet when she stepped inside. Too quiet for her liking. While her daughters took up after their father when it came to their appearance, their personality was all Petra. “Much to their luck”, as their former squad insisted on reminding Levi every time they got to visit.

When she spotted her husband reading by the fireplace, Petra did not hesitate to throw herself on his lap, ignoring the groan it elicited. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

“I`m not 30 anymore, Petra.”

Petra chose to answer by capturing his lips in a kiss which Levi deepened, the book long forgotten as it hit the floor. She could feel her husband's excitement through the fabric of his pants, and she broke the kiss, worried their time together might get interrupted. Petra laid her head on his chest to listen to his heart beat as Levi ran his hands up and down on her back.

“Did you miss me?”

Levi kissed her again before whispering against her lips- “I think you can feel how hard.”

Petra threw him a dirty look as she got off his lap, much to his displeasure. Despite having been together for 21 years, the flame of their passion never went out. And while her husband had been awkward with showing his love, the time spent by her side changed him.

“You dirty old man.”

Levi just smirked at her playful banter, determined to show his wife just how much he missed her smart mouth once the house went to sleep.

“How`s your father?”

Petra sighed as she threw herself on the couch, still worried about leaving her father on his own until she made the arrangements. She cursed at getting her stubbornness from him when the man refused to acknowledge his old age and the health problems that it brought. After days of yelling and tears, her father agreed to set his worries of being a bother aside and accept Petra`s proposal to be an active part of their lives.

“Stubborn as ever.” Petra rolled her eyes at the smile growing on her husband`s lips, shaking her head in denial at the implication that she is worse than him. “But he did agree to come live with us. I`m just worried about him being on his own for now.”

Levi took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb on her soft skin- “He`ll be fine, Pet. It will be good for him to be close to his granddaughters.”

“Speaking about them, how was your week?”

Levi cleared his throat, quite proud of his achievements while his wife was away. Despite his limited movement, he managed to keep the house up to his cleaning standards, and more than that, he thought he acted fair when it came to the little arguments he had with his daughters throughout the week.

“It all went smoothly.”

Petra was wary of her husband`s confidence, but she chose to leave it alone for the moment. She could see herself once her daughters got back from their classes.

“And I managed to keep all the brats and their shitty germs away from our house.”

Petra groaned as she covered her face with one of the cushion pillows. She often wondered how her husband could be so good with children while also acting like a jerk.

“Levi, our daughters need friends!”

“But Petra, those brats barely know how to use a soap.”

Levi was in the middle of explaining to Petra just how many germs the children brought in his house when their daughters burst through the door, excited to see their mother. Lizzie jumped in Petra`s arms while Eve wrapped her arms around her. Petra squeezed them harder, letting her emotions get ahold of her. She tried to be strong and not show Levi just how soft she was, but her first time away from her family had been hard on her too.

“How is grandpa?”

“He`s fine, sweeties. He will come to live with us in a few weeks.”

Lizzie jumped from Petra`s arms, excited at the prospect of gaining a new partner for playtime, one other than her father- “Another guest to my tea parties!”

Petra just laughed at her daughter`s priorities while Levi announced he had lunch prepared for them. She noticed the half-hearted kiss they gave their father before making their way to the kitchen, and if that was not proof enough of Levi not handling the situation as well as he had claimed, the room being as silent as the grave during their meal was. Levi had managed to turn the most cheerful children Petra had ever seen into… well, him. And in only a matter of days.

“So, did you get along with dad?”

Petra did not miss the grimace on Eve`s face as both girls decided to stay quiet at her question. She turned her eyes to Levi, who just shrugged and carried on with lunch. She turned her attention to Lizzie next- “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”

Her daughter stayed quiet again, and Petra nodded at her to answer as she ran her hand through her hair locks.

“Daddy takes the fun out of tea parties.”

Petra groaned, not believing the extends his husband would go to for his love for tea. She threw him a dirty look while Levi ruffled Lizzie`s hair.

“Princess, tea time is not for fun.”

“Levi, she`s six! She just wants to serve tea to her dolls.”

Levi was hurt at his wife`s words, as he expected her to understand how important it was for their daughter to understand the art of tea making from a young age. He had even gifted Lizzie a tea set for Christmas for that reason alone.

“But, Petra, she`s not too young to learn how to make a proper tea!”

“Lev…”- Petra was interrupted by Eve- “Dad moved my curfew to 8 PM. And he came over to my friend`s house to scold me for being out at that hour. It wasn`t even dark outside! Mom, he embarrassed me.”

Petra did not even have time to react, as Levi turned to her- “She`s too young to date!”

She rolled her eyes, tired of having the same argument with her husband every time their daughter was out with her friends. Petra was sure everyone in their town knew how scary Levi was, despite being confined to using a cane or wheelchair for movement. Everyone knew who Captain Levi Ackerman had been in his youth. She was sure anyone would think twice about hurting the daughter of Humanity`s Strongest Soldier.

“Mom was in the military at my age, dad!”

Petra did not miss the hurt in Levi`s eyes at hearing those words, knowing he was still haunted by the faces of all the children he had helped lead to certain death. He had once admitted to Petra he wished she could have had a different life, one where a child did not have to embrace the idea of death just for the dream of not living in a cage anymore.

Levi did not raise his eyes from his plate as he talked- “That`s different.”

“The hell it is!”- Eve spit in his face, angry at his father`s stubbornness.

Levi tried to contain his anger as he put his fork down and rolled away from the table- “You can say goodbye to the party on the weekend, young lady.”

Eve got up from her seat as she announced to the table- “And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations.’’

Petra hugged her daughters and assured them their father was not mad before she followed her husband to their bedroom. She could see the misery on his face, and she threw her arms around him. Her husband barely whispered- “Do you think I`m a shitty dad?”

Petra squeezed him harder, trying to show him the confidence she had in his parenting- “No, Levi. Of course not.” She kissed his cheek before running her thumb on it- “You`re an amazing dad.” She hated that Levi questioned himself, but she would have never blamed him for it, as she knew all about his childhood and the terrors he went through. Petra knew his biggest nightmare was turning into a parent similar to Kenny.

Petra kissed him again before whispering against his lips- “You just need to understand your daughter is grown up.”

Levi sighed before giving her a chaste kiss- “It`s hard, Petra.”

She kissed his nose, knowing it would get a smile out of him, no matter what, and she was not wrong. Levi wrapped his arms around her again as Petra whispered in his ear- “They love you so much.”

“I adore them.”

Levi felt his heart stop when Petra took his hand and rested it on her tummy as she whispered in his ear- “And you will adore this one as well.”

#ughh hope you like it #petra ral #rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #rivetra fanfic #my writing

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torielectra83 · 3 years ago

Text

Garak and the Jack Pack

Want to thank

@volixia669

for giving me the idea and motivation; this is the first fic I've posted and finished in quite a while. Also gonna tag

@unicorn-and-bluebells

and

@tirlaeyn

since their DS9-related posts are what helped lead me to this (if there's a DS9-related Discord I should join, let me know); note that I'm not much of a shipper (and I'm ace), so I wasn't quite sure how to approach the Bashir/Garak relationship; I just left it in the background (and the lizard man t-shirt).

“Oh, Doctor. There you are, and I….see you’ve brought company!” As he could see, Dr. Bashir was heading for the Replimat for his typical luncheon with him, only four other people were crowded around him. A skinny man with a mustache, a stocky older man with a timid expression, a rather gregarious-looking woman, and another woman who looked rather distant. “Oh, hello Garak. I’d like to apologize for being a bit late.”

“Oh, don’t worry, given what I’m seeing it’s very much a valid excuse.” Garak had heard about the other genetically-engineered people who’d been sent to DS9 to meet Dr. Bashir, but he’d been busy with orders at his shop; he’d been thinking about hiring someone to help out, actually. “Well, that’s Jack, Patrick, Lauren and Sarina. This is my...friend Garak, he runs a tailoring shop here on the Promenade.” “Oh, hi there, Hi. Uh, I gotta go over to the replicator, I’m starving over here.” Jack promptly excused himself, while Lauren made her way to Garak next. “Well, hello, Mr. Garak.” She promptly began her flirtatious attitude. “If you’re trying to seduce me...it won’t work. I am sorry, but I do not generally do one night stands.” Surprised and somewhat disappointed, Lauren backed away.

Patrick then approached Garak. “Do you make clothes?” “Yes, I do.” Patrick then grinned eagerly. “Good, because the clothes the institute gives us are too...itchy and things like that. Do you have softer clothes?” “Well, I can certainly make some? I believe Dr. Bashir said you need “sensory-friendly” clothing?” Bashir nodded; the term was an old term from pre-warp Earth. “I’ll do it at no charge; anyone who’s a friend of Dr. Bashir is a friend of mine.” He sipped his Tarkalean tea as Jack argued with the replicator over not being able to make something, while Lauren used the other one to replicate a bowl of Vulcan plomeek soup.

“And… Sarina, is it? I’ve noticed you haven’t said anything yet.” Garak simply saw the young woman turn, before holding up a PADD, with words written on it -- “I can’t speak, If you want to have a conversation with me, use this.” She promptly set the PADD down and continued to watch Jack’s tussle with the computer. “Sarina’s unable to speak, I can explain the whole thing later Garak.” Julian felt the need to pre-emptlively apologize for their behavior. “Oh, you don’t need to. I’m seeing people with a lot of potential here.” Bashir nodded. “So do I. And not many others do. That’s why I brought them here. I want to try and help them.”

“They seem to be helping themselves.” As Garak watched, Jack had finally managed to get something from the replicator that agreed with his standards -- a ham sandwich with Bajoran mapa bread. “So, this is the irrefutable Elim Garak, huh?” Jack asked. “Yes, and I see my reputation precedes me.” Garak said politely. “That’s right. Former intelligence agent for the now-defunct Obsidian Order, exiled and now working as a tailor here on DS9.” He said hastily before ripping into his sandwich. Garak raised an eyebrow. “And how did you find that out?” He asked, a tone of interest in his voice. “Oh, you’d be surprised what you can dig up on the extranet. There’s all sorts of unsavory rumors about you, like you causing a Cardassian doctor to break down by staring at them for four hours straight.” He promptly chugged from his cup of targ milk, before continuing. “And that your father was the head of the Obsidian Order, Enabrian Tain, and he got wiped out by the Dominion when the Obsidian Order and Tal Shiar teamed up, yeah, but they didn’t know the second-in-command of the Tal Shiar was actually a Changeling leading them right into a trap!”

“I...think we will have to pick up this conversation sometime later, Doctor.” Garak was getting rather uncomfortable at all this private information being practically shouted in the Promenade. “Oh, and I’ll see what I can do about those new clothes you requested, Patrick.” As Garak walked back to his shop, getting his mind off old events, he began pondering about what to do in the present. My orders are backlogged. I simply need help. As he opened his shop doors to see the current state -- half-finished orders, bolts of fabric all over and supplies in crates he hadn’t unpacked. “I must find someone to help me. I would get Julian but he’s too busy with being in Starfleet.” Garak sighed, and began getting back to working on an order.

Some time later...

Having returned from the Defiant, Dr. Bashir went into Garak’s shop, expecting to see it as it had been for some time -- cluttered and filled with things Garak was working on. He instead found it a hive of activity. Customers were entering and exiting, some waiting for their orders, others were looking at holographic models of new clothes to order. Bashir looked around in confusion. “What the…'' Suddenly, a figure blocked by their holding of several bolts of fabric maneuvered into view. “Look out, everyone!” Bashir knew that voice. “Patrick?!” “Oh, hi, Dr. Bashir.” Patrick didn’t even turn back as he carried the bolts into the back of the shop. “Patrick, how did you get here?” Bashir followed him, and realized the entire “Jack Pack” (as someone, most likely Quark, had nicknamed them) was working there. Patrick set the bolts down for Jack, who proceeded to start measuring what exactly was needed for that order. Lauren was busy inputting data of some kind into a PADD, while Sarina was sewing an order up. “Ah, Doctor, good to see you’ve returned home safe and sound!” Garak greeted him cheerily from behind his desk.

“Garak, what is going on here? How did they…” “Well, Julian. I saw their potential and I needed help. And so far, they have been excelling at everything they’ve been doing. I haven’t been this efficient, ever!” Garak looked positively delighted at this. It was rare to see him like this, and Julian was a noted expert on Garak’s emotions. “But...what about the Institute? And Dr. Loews?” “Well, she needed a vacation, and my offer to give them steady employment was something she couldn’t pass up.”

“Oh, well then. But...how are you so busy now?” Julian wondered. “Well, their brightness led them to not only help clear my backorders, but also introduce whole new product lines based on pre-warp Earth stylings. I will admit I knew little about it, but they have brought in several new kinds of clothing. Like this ‘tee shirt’.” Garak promptly held one up, the front reading “WWCKD?” with a small line underneath reading “What Would Captain Kirk Do?” “They’ve come up with several of these things. Like this one for the USS Voyager.” The shirt had a fictional flyer on the front with a picture of Voyager, underneath a “Missing: Reward” banner as if it were a lost dog. “We’ve also re-created other Earth fashions, from “bell-bottoms” to “zoot suits”. I must admit, they make most current styles of clothing look downright boring!”

“Yeah, Dr. Bashir! Here’s one we made especially for you!” Jack promptly handed him a T-shirt and headed into the front of the shop. Julian simply looked at Garak with an expression of disbelief. “Garak, we caught them trying to pass on classified information to the Dominion, and now, they’re recommending I wear a t-shirt that says ‘If lost, return to lizard man for reward’!” He said angrily, shaking the shirt in his hand for added emphasis.

“Doctor...these people needed another chance. One that nobody else was willing to give them. And another thing...they are still very useful analysts. They can predict trends, root out information and generally think far ahead of the game. To be quite honest, they’re the best analysts I’ve ever seen. “ Garak admitted. “Yeah, where else can you get a nice new pair of pants and information of Dominion troop movements?” Lauren commented.

“So...you’re basically running your own intelligence service out of this shop.” Bashir muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Well, there has to be a third-party intel service somewhere. With the Obsidian Order gone, there’s a market for it; we used to take on clients for analysis as a method for extra revenue. Strictly off the books, of course. So that’s what I’m doing now.” Garak reasoned. “And we aren’t just doing war intelligence either; we’ve got multiple projects for the Ferengi Alliance, the First Federation and the Gorn Hegemony for analyzing things like market trends, population censuses and whatnot.” Patrick nodded. “Yeah, Grand Nagus Zek and Ishka appreciate it! We got in touch with them thanks to the Ferengi maintenance guy, oh, what was his name…”

“Rom, that’s him. Real friendly guy. Came up with the self-replicating mines around the wormhole and keeps the holosuites running, real good guy.” Jack said at his normal speedy pace, before returning to his fabric measuring. Sarina promptly passed a PADD to Bashir, with a message reading “This is the best we’ve been treated in years. We’re working for ourselves, we’re constantly kept active, and we’re being paid 5 strips of latinum an hour.”

“Anyway, I’ll see you later, Doctor. We’ve got a lot to do before closing time today. After that we can meet at Quark’s, perhaps? Jack came up with this astounding holo-program based on another pre-warp Earth cultural thing, a “game show” called...Wipeout, yes. It involved picking the right answers and avoiding the wrong ones, it’s fascinating. But we have work to do and I’m sure you have work in the infirmary.”

Garak promptly ushered Dr. Bashir out of the store and back onto the Promenade. “...what just happened?”

#ds9 #dr bashir #garak #jack pack #one shot fic

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fiveisnumber1 · 4 years ago

Text

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 3828

Warnings: None

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

_________________________

Pt 11 - Lost In The Past

You didn't know how long it had been since you started crying but there came a point where you could cry no more. The tears no longer fell and your screams were nothing more than gasps of air. You felt empty like every last bit of emotion inside you was just released into the hollow house. Wiping the tears from your eyes you felt a gentle hand stroke your hair.

"There there, why don't we go get you some food to eat? You must be hungry after all that crying." Grace says

You turn your head to look at her and give her a small nod. Grace extends her hand to help you stand from the floor and when you stand she wraps an arm around you, guiding you to the kitchen. Sitting you down at the kitchen table, Grace starts to cook while you try to come to terms with your new reality. You had so many questions and yet you weren't sure if you had the words to vocalize them.

"Grace?" You call

"Hm?" She replies

"What happened since I've been gone?" You question softly

"Well George W. Bush served as president until 2008 when Barack Obama was elected to the presidency. The company Apple invented the iPhone in 2007 which revolutionized technology by giving phones touch screens. Youtube, Facebook, and other social media platforms grew to international success during the time you were gone. The-" Grace replies but you cut her off

"No, I mean...what happened here?" You say

Grace stops cooking for a second and turns to you.

"Oh. Well, you and Five went missing on the same day eleven years ago and things were never quite the same. Your disappearances took a toll on both your family and ours. I remember that about three years after you left, your parents packed up and moved to wherever they went. They were so distraught and I don't blame them it's very difficult to lose a child. I recall that back then Diego really tried his best to track them down in case you ever came back."

"What happened to Diego? And the others?"

"Diego left the house right when he turned eighteen, and Vanya, Klaus, and Allison left shortly thereafter which happened about six or so years ago. Luther stayed but now he's up on the moon doing some important research for Mr. Hargreeves!"

"You forgot about Ben." You state

"Oh right...Ben. Ben died on a mission in 2006. I don't know if you saw in the courtyard but there's a memorial statue for him there."

"He died?" You reply shocked

Grace nods.

"Yes and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, after you and Five went missing, and Ben's death, the rest of the children had no desire to stay in the house. It's difficult having to lose all your children one by one..." Grace states before putting on a chipper voice "Anyway here's a grilled cheese sandwich!"

"Oh." You say surprised at her quick shift of emotion "Uh, thank you."

"No problem (Y/N). Feel free to walk around the house and if you need anything else just ask! I'll be in the laundry room." Grace says before leaving

As she exits the kitchen and heads upstairs to the laundry room, you stare at the grilled cheese before pushing the plate away and putting your face in your hands. Everything felt like it was moving at a million miles per hour and you couldn't make it stop. You needed to get your mind off of things. Lifting you head out of your hands you stand up and grab your sandwich off the plate and walk towards a calendar on the kitchen wall. It read November 22nd, 2013. You shook your head and decided to leave the room. Strolling out of the kitchen and around the Umbrella Academy, you look at paintings of the former academy members. With each painting, the number of kids grew less and less as if time was making them disappear. You continue to walk around as you eat your sandwich taking in the empty sights. Passing different rooms, memories replayed in your mind so strongly that it was like you were right there in them again. You could practically see and hear the Hargreeves kids running down the halls and fighting with each other in those dumb uniforms they used to wear but you knew those experiences were just in your mind. This building had become a haunted house filled with the ghosts of past memories that would never come back. Looking outside at the snowy scene you decide to brave the elements and head out to the courtyard. This time instead of frantically looking for signs of life you take in the sight of death. You make your way over to the statue of what looks to be an older version of Ben. The statue has a solemn look on its face as it looks down on you.

"I guess you're the only one left here." You comment to the statue

You got no response. You didn't expect one but it was worth a shot. You looked down at the pedestal the statue was on and read the epitaph.

May the darkness within you find peace in the light

You wrote that to him in the journal you gave him for all of your 13th birthdays. Things really had changed while you were gone. With the cold starting to set in, you head back inside and go stand in the parlor next to the fireplace. Looking up at the painting of Five once more, a mix of emotions started churning inside you. Anger, grief, confusion, hurt. All of them overwhelmed you.

"You know this is all your fault Five." You start to rant to the painting "If you hadn't gotten mad about whatever it was you were mad about neither of us would be in this situation."

You pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, your feelings of hurt and anger growing stronger like the flames before you. You continue to yell louder at the painting in front of you,

"Oh leave me alone (Y/N) you wouldn't get it. Bullshit! Do you see what you've done? Look at me! I have no family, no home, no friends, nothing because of you and your stupid superiority complex! All of it is gone! Do you hear me?"

By this point, you were actively staring down the painting, pointing and screaming at it,

"I HAVE NOTHING! NOTHING BECAUSE OF YOU! I LOST EVERYTHING AND THAT INCLUDES MY BEST FRIEND! HOW DARE YOU FIVE! HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Child, yelling at the painting is not going to console your grief." You hear a voice say from behind you

Turning around you find Mr. Hargreeves to be standing there.

"Why do you keep the painting up then?" You retort crossing your arms

"I keep it up to remember the boy." he answers, "I told him not to mess with time travel but he refused to listen."

"He thought he was better than everyone." You comment

"He thought he was better than most people, not all, but most." Reginald replies "Now if you're going to be staying here there are going to be rules that you need to follow."

"Who said I was staying here?" You remark

"You have other accommodations?" He questions

You let out a huff.

"No." you reply annoyed

It was true, you had nowhere else to go and this was probably your only chance of having a home of sorts. You heard the stories of what it was like to live with Reginald and although you didn't want to, you knew that you had no other choice.

"Very well. I will have Pogo inform you of the daily schedule of eating, training, and studying."

"Slow your roll old man, training?" you question raising an eyebrow

"Of course. To develop your powers." He responds blankly

"Listen, if I'm going to live here and have to deal with your rules then I have some conditions. First, I will train my powers and let you research them but do NOT expect me to put on a little uniform and become the only member of the second class of the Umbrella Academy. That's not happening. Second, if you want me to learn something it will wait until the weekend because during the week I want to go to school. Third, I have autonomy of where I go both inside and outside this house. I am not going to live my life solely in one bedroom. Do I make myself clear?" You demand

"I see time hasn't dulled that sharp tongue and insolent attitude of yours." Reginald remarks

"Well what eleven years is to you has been like two hours to me." you retort

"Fine. I agree with your conditions and the schedule will be adjusted accordingly but you MUST stick to it and the house rules or I will not tolerate your requests further." Reginald replies

"Deal." You state curtly

"I'll have Grace deal with your living accommodations. Now keep quiet."

"One more thing. You got his eyes wrong, they're a brighter blue." You say gesturing to the painting of Five

Reginald turns to walk away and you flop down on the couch. This is not what you expected when you woke up that morning...eleven years ago. All of it was still so surreal and you didn't know what to do. So you did nothing, you just laid on the couch staring at the ceiling silently and let the world pass by as it had done already. You didn't notice how much time had gone by until you heard Grace call out,

"(Y/N)!"

"I'm here." You reply sitting up from the couch

"Mr. Hargreeves told me that you're going to be staying with us. I'm so happy to hear that! Now I have the pleasure of being able to take care of you too!" She says happily "Let's get you situated!"

Grace and you walk upstairs and into the hall that housed the former rooms of the children.

"You can pick whichever room you want!" Grace explains "Allison's room is all set up in terms of having girlier items, and Vanya's room is smaller but it's barren so you can decorate it however you want! Luther and Ben's rooms are super organized! We can always redo Klaus or Diego's rooms and there's always Fi-"

"I'll take a look at the rooms and let you know." You quickly shoot out

Grace gives you a slightly shocked look before smiling and saying,

"Oh alright, I'm going to make dinner then. Just let me know before bedtime so I can get some clean sheets for you."

You didn't mean to cut off Grace but Five's room was the only room you didn't check earlier. Going in there wasn't something you were prepared to do right now and it definitely wasn't the one you were going to stay in. It would hurt too much, not only because of all the memories made in there but because it looked right across at your old room which was now frozen in time. Passing the closed door of Five's room you walk down the hall and carefully examine all the other options. You saw that Allison and Luther had two of the largest rooms, and you were surprised you couldn't find a hole cut in their shared wall to secretly enter each others. Nevertheless, Luther had only left recently so you didn't want his room and Allison's room had too much of her stuff in it and you knew even with rearranging you couldn't make it feel like your own. Making your way down the hall you saw Vanya's barren room but decided against it because it was too small. Klaus' room was too messy even though he hadn't been there for years and you felt weird about staying in Ben's room since it was still his when he passed away. All that was left was Diego's room. It wasn't as large as Luther or Allison's but it wasn't as small as Vanya's. You still felt a little awkward about taking it but out of all the options it was the best choice. Hearing a bell ring you went down to the dining room for dinner. Mr. Hargreeves was already there standing behind his seat at the head of the table. You stood behind the seat at the opposite head.

"Sit." He commanded

You sat down and Grace dished out food for both you and Mr. Hargreeves. The dinner was silent, the only sounds were that of the silverware clanking against your plates. When finished you excused yourself from the table. As you were walking away Grace asked,

"Did you pick a room?"

"Ah yes, I'll be staying in Diego's room." You answer

"Well it's not Diego's room anymore silly, it's yours! I'll go get some fresh sheets for the bed."

As you head to Diego's room you quickly get an idea to try and make the room more of your own. Transporting yourself to your old room you grab three items before transporting yourself back to the academy. As you approach Diego's room with the items in your arms you see that Grace had finished making the bed. Entering, you place the items on the desk. The diary replica that your parents gave you, the music box, and the teddy bear that Five gave you. It wasn't much but the items comforted you. Putting on a pair of pajamas you got ready for bed. As you pulled the bedsheets down Grace appeared behind you in the doorway and said,

"Goodnight (Y/N), sleep well."

She started to walk away when you called out,

"Grace?"

"Yes (Y/N)?" she replies

"Do you- do you think you could tuck me in?"

You saw as her expression was both happy and sad in a way. Like there was a piece missing that you somehow filled with that question.

"Of course," She replied a smile coming on to her face

You got into the bed and Grace happily tucked you in. Pulling the covers a top of she couldn't help but feel a sense of completeness that she lost years ago. The house had been so empty since all the kids left, but now she had someone to take care of and although the circumstances were less than great for you she wanted to make sure that she could give you the best. Quietly, she turned the light off and closed the door so you could fall asleep.

After that day the Hargreeves house had become your home. Over the next month, you moved most of your stuff from your old room to your new one. Having your stuff helped to make the transition easier although it also made you miss your past. To pass the time, you religiously wrote in the replica diary about each day but instead of writing dear diary for each entry, you wrote Dear Five. You hoped that if he came back one day you could give him the diary to read about what you were up to so it was like he was always there with you. With some help, you got enrolled in school but wouldn't start until after winter break. Even as you settled into the routine of training and living, you still felt all the emotions that you had that first day. You knew you wouldn't get over them immediately but you wished you had a better outlet. Going to Grace one day you asked her,

"Grace, do you have any ideas on how to get these negative feelings out in a healthy way? I know they won't go away but I'm hoping I can make them less strong."

"Hmm. Well if you put the energy that you spend on those feelings into different activities it might help. You could play the piano again or you can take up a physical sport. I heard boxing is really good for taking negative energy out." Grace responds "Actually I think there is a boxing club in the area. How about you check it out tomorrow?"

"Alright, I can try that. Do you think they're open though, it is Christmas Eve." You reply

"If my knowledge is correct, this one is open 365 days a year." Grace replies

You nodded and once you had figured out where it was you put on exercise clothes. Grace bundled you up in a warm jacket and with that, you walked your way over to the boxing club. Entering you approached a desk where an old man sat.

"Hi, I'd like to learn to box." You say

"You're a little small to learn, don't you think?" He replies

"I have a hundred dollars that say I'm not too small." You state holding up the bill

"Can't argue with that." The old man says taking the cash

He escorts you over to a punching bag.

"Wait here, I'll get you someone to teach you." He says before turning his attention "Hey Kraken, get your ass over here. I need you to teach this kid."

Slowly a man steps out of the boxing ring where he was practicing and walks over to where you and the old man are. The old man walks away as the younger man takes off his gear. He says,

"Hey, I'm-"

But he stops abruptly. The man just stares at you blankly.

"Are you okay?" You ask

"Sorry, you look like someone I used to know." He says

Something about this man felt familiar but you couldn't place it. The man sticks out his hand to shake yours. You go to shake it but when you look down at his wrist he has an all too familiar marking there, a tattoo of an umbrella in a circle. You look at the tattoo before looking up again at the man and start to recognize the features of the boy you used to know, now all grown up.

"Diego?" you question softly

"H-h-how did you know my name?" He stutters

"I knew it because you do know me. It's me, (Y/N)," you reply softly

You can see the confusion on his face turn into a softer expression. Although it might not have been evident to his other siblings, Diego was a deeply emotional person and you saw that exact look you were seeing in his eyes many times before when you two were younger.

"No. It can't be. You look exactly the same, you should be my age" He questions, the emotion on his face becoming more evident

"Accidentally traveling through time will do that to you. Please you have to believe me Eggo." You begged

He was having doubts that it was truly you but that all went away when you called him that name. It was a dumb nickname you gave him when one time Luther refused to let go of him. You kept exclaiming "let go my eggo" as you tried to use your powers to get Luther off. No one else but you ever knew of that. Tears formed in Diego's eyes but quickly after he wrapped his arms around you and picked you up.

"Hey everyone! My sister is back! We thought she went missing but she's back!" Diego exclaims to the people in the boxing club

There are some cheers and congratulations shouted from across the gym as Diego puts you back down. For so long he hoped that you would come back and now here you were like a Christmas miracle. You were more like a sibling to him in the short amount of time he knew you than his own siblings were. Instead of learning to box the two of you talked. You explained everything that you had gone through and your current living situation. He didn't like that you were living in that house with his father but he knew that he didn't have the means to house you nor properly take care of you. One thing he did know is that he was going to make sure that after all this misery you could have a better life. Even though time had gone on and he was older now you were still like a sister to him but now you were his little sister and he was determined to protect you from any harm the world might throw your way. He was going to be the best older brother he could be to you and make sure that you would not have to face the life he did.

And so for the next five years, Diego was there for every important moment in your life, always trying to support you and make it better. He dropped you off on your first day of school when spring semester rolled around and every first day after. He went to every piano recital you had and sat front row. When there was a father-daughter dance fundraiser he went to make sure you weren't alone. He trained you and coached you in boxing and was there for every single match. He planned a huge sweet 16 birthday party using what money he had. He was the one who took you on your first college visits when you were 17. He took time out of his days to practice working on your powers. For everything, he was there and on top of that, he regularly took you out of the house to spend time with you. You were his little sister, his true sister and he wanted you to know it.

Along with everything Diego did for you, you were grateful for some of the things you had gotten in the Hargreeves house. After about a year or so you stopped calling Grace by her name and started to call her mom. If androids could cry tears of joy Grace would have the first time that word left your mouth. Pogo had convinced Reginald to get you a piano play and in an odd act of kindness, he did. Along with that, your powers developed greatly under the supervision of Reginald and Pogo. You were able to do more in terms of manipulating the molecules in the world around you and were able to start seeing disturbances in them as well. Life wasn't perfect but through the years it got easier. But although you were growing up and trying to move on with your life, even after all those years Five never left your mind for a second. You missed him greatly and hated that the last words the two of you shared were ones of anger. You wondered if he was still mad at you. Each moment of every day Five still consumed your mind and you hoped that wherever he was, in another time and place, that he was doing okay and that one day he would come back to you.

Check out the side story here:

The Missing Five Years - “Lost In The Past” Side story

Taglist: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @eddiomyspaghettio @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind @vicassa @2cuteforyourlies @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @shadowycreationcupcake @macaroni-mads @metor-showers1994 @fivehargreevesforthewin @rinko-san @supernovavision @cicilisthebest @flickbix @hi-v-juice @magykal-777 @zosiaduda

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writtingfiction · 4 years ago

Note

Sylvan x blythe pleaseeeeeeeeee anything u want

Oh lord, if you leave it broad like this I will try too hard to think of what I could do, and when I do find out something to with it, it ends up being long...

pairing: Sylvain x Byleth

words: 2.6 k

Sylvain knows what he said to Byleth years ago doesn’t paint him in a very good picture, even though he said he was kidding, he knew that she didn’t think he was. Maybe that’s why he didn’t see her as often as he did after that. He wasn’t surprised with the lack of her presence despite her being his professor. Sylvain envied Byleth for her lack of crest until she got to the monastery, almost wishing he had the same life. However, the grip on his heart when he learned that she went missing during the battle against Edelgard’s forces, made him want to weep.

The shock and relief Sylvain felt when seeing Byleth again, his chest heated, finger gripping his lance harder and his mask ever steady on his face. He couldn’t show just how much her presence means to him, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy to see her. It’s when he gets the chance to see her up close that he realizes just how much he has changed since then.

The teal hair practically shines as the sun rises. She is as graceful as she was 5 years ago. She’s able to dodge the thieves attack smoothly. It’s almost as if she never vanished so long ago. When Byleth makes eye contact with him, he can only smile. However, when she approaches him during the heat of battle to check on him, he struggles to pull out words.

“Professor!” He grins as wide as he can. “Still looking as pretty as ever.” He gives her a quick wink. Sylvain doesn’t acknowledge the slight disappointment in her eyes when she turns back to fighting the thieves.

—— —

Sylvain hummed as he sharpened his blade. It’s been at least a month or two now since they’ve taken back the monastery without Edelgard knowing. Nonetheless, the further they went on their mission to take her down it wouldn’t be long before they found out. The various shouts he heard throughout the monastery told him that they were going out again. Letting out a tired sigh before he got up and joined his friends.

“Sylvain, there you are. I was just about to look for you.” Ashe said.

“Ashe, my knight in shining armour.” Sylvain said light hearted. Ashe can only grin wider.

“Y’know, have you kept up with your dancing skills?” Ashe said out of curiosity. “Professor did have you win the White Heron cup.” Sylvain could feel a groan in the back of his throat. Did he want to admit he did keep up with his dancing skills in private? When he knew no one would bother him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, my friend.” Sylvain said. Ashe let out a laugh.

“I’m just saying, I have a feeling the professor might put you on dancing duty.” Ashe spoke and Sylvain felt the embarrassment climb up his chest.

“By the Gods, I hope she doesn’t.” Sylvain said.

“Hope who doesn’t what?” Byleth spoke. Both of the young men jumped.

“Professor!!” Ashe said. Smiling ear to ear. “Just discussing the battle plans for the upcoming battle.” Byleth nodded.

“I’m glad you were. In fact, Sylvain, I wanted to ask you if you still remember the dances from the White Heron cup? It has been 5 five years after all.” Byleth said. Sylvain wanted to eat his own armour.

“Of course I do, professor. How could I forget dancing with someone as beautiful as you?” Sylvain said, pulling out his charming lines.

“Do you want me to make you wear the outfit again? I’m sure there’s an extra outfit around here somewhere…”

“NO! I mean, no. That won’t be necessary.” Sylvain said. The former blue lion students could see the mischievous smirk on Byleth’s face fade ever so slightly.

“A pity, but I hope the armour is easy to move in.” Byleth said, waving the two boys along to follow her. “You’ll be doing a lot of supporting.” Sylvain let out a nervous laugh. He wasn’t this nervous for an upcoming battle for years and he didn’t like what it meant.

— — —

The sounds of panic shouting and rushed footsteps of a scout climbing the stairs to the counsel room should have been their first sign of how bad the news was going to be. The door burst open and Dimitri almost has half a mind to throw his lance at the scout who’s already winded.

“Your highness…! Byleth…! The empire… the empire is here with forces!!” The scout breathes out barely. The entire room is quiet, it takes a moment for the news to settle in before everyone looks to Byleth. Their trusted professor and now tactician to lead them through this. Sylvain sees the gears turning in her head, she wasn’t expecting this, at least not so soon.

“Ready the forces, take what civilians you can and escort them to the back of the monastery. Edelgard is not among them?” Byleth speaks. The scout nods.

“The emperor is nowhere to be seen. It’s only a small force however, General Randolph is leading the forces. We have about four hours.” Sylvain sees Caspar tense, he doesn’t know why but there must be a connection.

“Then we win this one. Ready who you can to fight, the rest can protect the civilians. Make sure anyone who can’t fight stays away from the scene of the battle. Ready what you can of the ballistae and the magic, we will need them.” Byleth casts out orders for the scout who’s only able to nod and run out the door. Byleth then turns to her former students. “I want the rest of you to prepare, I will call a meeting at the edge of the gates in two hours to propose a strategy. You’re dismissed.” Sylvain is almost too happy to leap out of his seat as Ingrid calls out Caspar for his tenseness from earlier. Sylvain wasn’t the only person to notice then.

“Wait—Caspar, do you know this General?” Ingrid said, raising from her seat. There was anger ready to be released behind her voice. Caspar on the other hand only gave a sheepish smile.

“General Randolph is my uncle through marriage, that’s all. It will be odd to fight against him is all.” Caspar said. There’s a heavy tension through the room. Annette speaks up.

“He is your uncle?!” It’s more out of surprise than anything.

“Can we trust a former black eagle?” Felix snarls. Dimitri stands and speaks.

“I will not have a traitor amongst my inner—“

BANG

Byleth’s hand hits the table. Everyone is quick to look over her and fall silent. Byleth stares at them all, nothing to give away what she felt. It was almost as if everyone has first met her again.

“I will not have animosity and infighting among you. If you have a problem, I will address the issue but I will not allow you to fight one another, is that clear.” Byleth said coldly and clearly. There were silent nods from everyone. “So, does anyone here think that Caspar has told the empire about us being here?”

No one spoke.

“Does anyone think that Bernadetta said anything to the empire?”

Nothing reached Byleth’s ears.

“Then you are dismissed. I shall see everyone in two hours by the front gates to reconvene.”

Sylvain walked out of the room, heart in his hand. He doesn’t think he had been so scared before by someone. He spares glances towards his friends and he can see the lingering fear among them. Dimitri almost seemed less scary even for a moment. Caspar and Bernadetta must have been horrified when Ingrid had called out Caspar like that, never mind the quick judgemental comments coming from Felix and Dimitri. He thinks he can hear Bernadetta cry as he heads down the staircase.

— — — —

Sylvain inhaled sharply as he muttered the words to a spell under his breath. Fire licked at his palm and he could feel the heat wash over him. It reminds him of the first he had cast the spell, dark and cold in the well he was thrown down into by his brother. The fire in his palm grows brighter and bigger. His eyes lift from the flame to the dummy in front of him. He is ready to cast the flame upon the poor dummy but loses his focus when Byleth interrupts him.

“Sylvain,” Byleth calls to him. The flame disappears as he looks at his former professor. “Time is up. Are you prepared enough to fight?”

“Yes, always,” Sylvain says with conviction. He could almost see the smile on her lips.

“Walk with me, we can flag anyone down as we make our way towards the gates,” Byleth said. Sylvain nods and walks with her.

The two of them converse with ease talking about his skills in magic and how he has improved within the last five years. Something seems to make his heart race the more they talk. He thinks it’s the battle that’s coming soon, but there’s a feeling that maybe, just maybe it isn’t that.

“Everyone here?” Byleth asks towards the group, and with a quick look around, everyone was in fact there. A small frown is on Sylvain’s face as he takes the mental note that Dedue is not there. “Good. Now, let me start with our defences and how things will unfold…”

— — — — —

Even with knowing the plan was to cast fire down upon the shrubbery, he couldn’t help but run towards her. Byleth was struggling against a heavily armoured enemy. He saw how she had cast magic against the enemy but had missed. Perhaps it was due to the exhaustion and trying to keep the plan together. Or, maybe because she wasn’t able to keep up with her former students turned friends as they rushed forward.

Byleth sidestepped the shining silver axe that came down towards her. Sylvain grimaced the way it had barely missed her. His arm raised and curled his fist into his chest as he chanted the words for the spell of fire. His palm warmed up before the heat crawled up his fingers, wrist, and arm. A red sigil appearing in front of his body glowing a bright red, a small but bright flame licks at his hand just as the sigil disappears. Just when the heat becomes unbearable he extends his hand towards the enemy, the small flame grows bigger and bigger heat reaching his face with how large the fire became. With one word the fire is sent towards the enemy, singing the grass as it flies through the air before hitting the heavy armour melting it against the enemy’s skin.

Sylvain could see the relieved sigh escape her chest. She turns to face him and he hears her say ‘thank you' but it’s short-lived as he sees a sniper release an arrow from the distance. He’s moving before he can say anything. His voice is stuck in his throat as he reaches her, pushing her away from where she stood as an arrow hits his shoulder. There’s just enough force from the arrow to knock him off his feet and send him to the ground. Sylvain’s hand goes to his shoulder grasping the arrow tightly.

“Sylvain!!” Byleth cries out.

His head swivels towards her, eyes just barely catching the second arrow coming towards him. A groan comes the back of his throat as he rolls onto his side not hindered by an arrow. The second arrow just misses him, hitting the dirt where his head was. His chest is beating against his rib cage. His eyes are wide as he realizes how he barely dodged death. Firm hands grab at him, lifting him up to his feet. Sylvain is moving swiftly in what he assumes Byleth’s arms and his head is spinning.

Sylvain locks eyes with Byleth and her lips are moving but he can’t hear anything. He could probably guess at what she’s saying as she’s tugging on him. Follow her? He’s taking steps forward and it seems to calm her a bit as she drags them towards the middle of the battle. He can feel the faint pulse of aching in his shoulder but it doesn’t hurt. The adrenaline must be coursing through his veins to hide the real pain.

Sylvain stays close to her throughout the rest of the fight, and before he knows it, the fight is over and he’s rushed off somewhere to be taken care of.

— —— —

He’s stuck with doing nothing for a solid two days straight before he’s cleared for the battlefield after his third day of rest. Sylvain lets out a pained sigh as rolls his shoulder, eyes barely lifting to the doorway when hearing footsteps approaching his room.

“Oh, Professor! Thanks for stopping by.” Sylvain says with a large smile.

“You–How’s the injury?” Byleth said.

“It’s healing well, I’m being cleared for service tomorrow. Besides,” Sylvain pauses, a smirk on his lips and a wink is sent her way. “I’ve got this scar to show off as a medal for keeping you safe.” Sylvain can see her brows furrow as she frowns.

“Didn’t you want to kill me?” Byleth says in such a way it makes his stomach twist. He looks down to the ground.

“I certainly meant it when I said it…” Sylvain plays with his fingers, an old habit he did when he was nervous or felt vulnerable. “But, when the thought came to mind that you could have died, I reacted without thinking. That doesn’t mean that I never stopped being jealous of you, though. You got to live your entire life without the knowledge of your crest, meanwhile, I went through so much trouble all because I knew and everyone around me knew. My brother giving me the most trouble.”

“I remember five years ago with the incident about the lance of ruin,” Byleth said. Sylvain lets out a dry laugh, hands curling into fists.

“Yeah, he was not happy to learn that I had a crest. He got cast aside, almost treated like an outsider. One winter, we were out and you know what he did? He pushed down into a well.” Sylvain explained and he could see the way Byleth grimaced. “Even as a kid, I understood why he felt to act as he did. Even all the girls that throw themselves at me as the years went by. They don’t care about me, all they want is the crest and nobility status that comes with it.”

“You’re wrong…” Byleth said. Sylvain shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I get you. Even though it might be a bit late to admit but, their empty praise is best served somewhere else. Besides, it was unreasonable to resent you. I’m really sorry professor and thank you for everything. Seriously, thank you.” Sylvain looks to Byleth and he sees something. A sparkle in her eyes betrays something but with all the time he spent around people and knowing their true intentions he still couldn’t tell anything about her.

“You’re welcome, take care of yourself properly now. We’ve got some dancing lessons to catch up on.” Byleth says it to lighten the mood and he can only laugh. Heart beating a little faster in his chest as she giggles with him.

“You got it, professor.” Sylvain gives her a smile, a real genuine smile. Byleth smiles in return, before waving goodbye but not before saying;

“You should smile like that more often, you look relaxed.” To say his heart was beating against his chest because of her this time wouldn’t be a lie.

#sylvain x byleth #byleth eisner #byleth fire emblem #fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #sylvain jose gautier #sylvain fire emblem #request #fluff #blue lions route

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fresh-prince-of-denmark · 4 years ago

Text

Analysis of the Devil Ending: Who Died and Left Aristotle In Charge of Ethics? (Pt 5)

Hello and welcome back to me over-analyzing everything in Cyberpunk. If you haven’t read my other posts, please read those first! (V’s Mikoshi Poem, Johnny’s Mikoshi Poem, The Sun, New Dawn Fades).

This part took me a lot longer to complete. Not because it was particularly long…it was just painful. Jesus Christ. I hated every second of this ending. That shit hurted.

There were a few shards located at Arasaka’s estate that I chose to skip, as I did not find ant that were unique to the location. The three the game seemed to want to draw your attention to were actually not scattered as shards, they were spoken-word. The only shard I was able to find was a portion of The Odyssey. The other two pieces of literature are In Kyoto, which is quoted to V by the guard to takes her to the hospital room, and (what I believe to be) a reference to Plato’s The Allegory of the Cave. This section is going to be super theoretical. Like, more theoretical than the rest. So bare with me please.

Let’s start easy. This is the poem that the guard quotes at V as he leads her out of the operating room:

In Kyoto,

hearing the cuckoo,

I long for Kyoto

(By: Basho, translated by Jane Hirshfield)

Ten words. What could ten words amount to? The saddest goddamn words you’ll ever hear, dammit. This poem is a feeling more than a concept. Ever feel homesick when you haven’t gone anywhere? Lonely when you’re around other people? That’s V. This was supposed to be a victory, supposed to be what they wanted. But now Johnny’s gone, scorned and betrayed, and no one they calls seems to even be able to give V the time of day. This was supposed to be a victory, their way of going back to the way things were, getting their life back, going home. But we can never go back, can’t ever erase our experiences, what we learn, how we grow. As Misty says, we should not fear change in of itself, but who we might change into. This just goes to show what happens when we betray ourselves by rejecting our own growth: all that’s left is bitterness and sorrow.

The next day when V wakes, you can pick up a shard containing a section from Chapter 8 of The Odyssey. Now, I’m not too familiar with the Odyssey. In fact, I hate the Odyssey. So if anyone wants to jump in here and add something more intelligent, I’m all for it. The Odyssey is the tale of Odysseus, who has been trying for ten long years to return to his wife and son after the Trojan war. Odysseus is basically listening to a bard remind him of all his Trojan War trauma, and begins to weep, at which time time people start questioning what’s up with this guy:

Say what thy birth, and what the name you bore,

Imposed by parents in the natal hour?

(For from the natal hour distinctive names,

One common right, the great and lowly claims:)

Say from what city, from what regions toss'd,

And what inhabitants those regions boast?

So shalt thou instant reach the realm assign'd.

In wondrous ships, self-moved, instinct with mind;

No helm secures their course, no pilot guides;

Like man intelligent, they plough the tides,

Conscious of every coast and every bay,

That lies beneath the sun's all-seeing ray;

Though clouds and darkness veil the encumber'd sky,

Fearless through darkness and through clouds they fly;

Though tempests rage, though rolls the swelling main,

The seas may roll, the tempests may rage in vain,

E'en the stern god that o'er the waves presides,

Safe as they pass, and safe repass the tides,

With fury burns; while careless they convey

Promiscuous every guest to every bay,

These ears have heard my royal sire disclouse

A dreadful story, big with future woes;

How Neptune raged, and how, by his command,

Firm rooted in a surge a ship would stand

A monument of wrath; how mound on mound

Should bury these proud towers beneath the ground.

But this the gods may frustrate or fulfill,

As suits the purpose of the Eternal Will.

But say through what waste regions hast thou stray'd

What customs noted, and what coasts survey'd;

Possess'd by wild barbarians fierce in arms,

Or men whose bosom tender pity warms?

Say why the fate o Troy awaked thy cares,

Why heaved thy bosom, and why flowed thy tears?

Reading this made me feel just how tired V must be. All this fighting, all this war, and for what? Much like Odysseus, V has been through hell and back (literally, depending on how you see it). And it never seems to end. V has been fighting for so long, yet there’s always something more; the tests the doctor gives her are endless, and they’re always being asked to do more, over and over again, with no results or end in sight. Odysseus is teetering on despair; nothing he does seems to do will ever be enough, just like V. The world will just take and take and take. It’s exactly what V’s poem asserts in Mikoshi; the world cannot be fixed, and resistance is futile. You can’t change how corporations rule the world, and as a protestor states on the TV in the hospital room, the rich have no boundaries or morals, and we are powerless to stop them from taking whatever they want. They can take not only our souls, but our bodies, devour them in order to prolong their own lives. Johnny would, of course, disagree. Even a slap in the face to The Man is better than submitting to a corpo-leash, even if that is the easier path. And in fact, he may be right, since it seems taking Hanako’s offer is the conformist path, and the only one that leads to Saburo coming back.

But Johnny isn’t there anymore to walk the rebel path at their side. No more guardian angel to whisper when they it most to never stop fighting.

There’s a lot more we could go into here with the Odyssey; comparing Arasaka to the story of Polyphemus and the cave, talking about themes of passion vs. commitment, yadayadayada. I hate the Odyssey so that can be someone else’s problem tbh.

The final piece is what the doctor asks V to read as one of their tests. Now, on surface-level, this is foreshadowing if V will choose to stay in their body, or be turned into an engram. It’s laughing at them, really, both pitying and mocking the fact that they believe they have a choice, since either way they’re once again at the mercy of the rich and powerful:

“And it was a sight to behold, he said, how a soul would choose its life; sometimes pitiable, sometimes laughable at times wonderful and strange. For in most cases, the souls made their choice according to the habits of a former life.”

I couldn’t find where this was from, or if it was a quote from anything. But googling it does bring up Plato’s Allegory of The Cave, which I thinks tracks pretty well. I found a quote from this chapter of Plato’s The Republic, which is strikingly similar in meaning. For the sake of my sanity, lets assume that this quote is referencing this one from Plato:

“And he will count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above out of the light into the cave.”

If you’re unfamiliar with the allegory of the cave, it’s a philosophical discussion from Plato’s The Republic. It’s about how human perception is limited, and so true knowledge comes from the self via philosophical reasoning. Much like humans imprisoned in a cave with only shadows as their entire world, we cannot imagine the true world outside the cave until we leave to see it for ourselves. Those who are freed from this limited reasoning have a duty to go back and free others, subjecting them to the full experience of awakening; both the pain and the triumph it entails. V starts out with a limited perception of things; a surface-level world, never stopping to see the bigger picture, until Johnny comes along and encourages them to question the status quo. In all other endings, V accepts this enlightenment. They challenge Arasaka, and try to follow Johnny’s legacy and Stick It To the Man. Yet if they accept Hanako’s offer in an attempt to return to “the habits of a former life,” they are rejecting this new understanding, refusing to leave the cave and live in ignorant bliss. This, I believe, is where Johnny’s true feeling of betrayal comes from: not because he’s being shredded, and not because he thinks V doesn’t know any better. V learned and changed just as much as he did, and this growth was something they were able to gift to one another. Johnny is proud of his change, proud to be someone trusted by V, proud at a second chance not to fuck things up. When V gives him control to go with Rogue to Arasaka, he’s ecstatic to prove himself worthy of that trust, to prove that he’s changed. Yet V, the person who aided in that change, is now actively ignoring and rejecting their own growth, and thus is betraying themselves. By not using their enlightenment to actively oppose the status quo and rebel, they are choosing the side of the oppressor by default.

Some of her last words if you choose not to sign the contract are to Goro, “You have no idea how good it feels to be free.” But the truth is, V is not free, and now they will never be free. By walking the path they have, they are choosing willful ignorance, stubbornly clinging to the darkness of the cave because it is easier to convince oneself that they are not a prisoner at all than it is to leave the comfort of one’s chains. Either way, they are caged, even if the bars the rich and powerful build around her are clear instead of solid. Her so-called freedom (and knowledge) is pure illusion — shadows depicted on a cave wall.

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deltas-writing-corner · 4 years ago

Text

Courtship: Respect

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Warnings: Mentions and depictions of smoking/tobacco usage

Next chapter | AO3 version

Slight revisions and full version posted on: 5/4/2021

The alarm clock on your phone is loud and annoying, but it’s the only sound that will wake you up without fail so you can get a head start on your more demanding days, like today.

Groggy and neck a bit strained, a sign that you’ve slept on it wrong, you carefully push yourself up and off your bed. You come across your first hurdle of the day. A few wolf cubs had settled on your chest and your sides during the night. You try carefully to move them off of you and to the side of their mother, who has settled near your feet and isn’t afraid to growl or snap her jaw should you even think of shifting or moving away from her. Unfortunately, the pups seem determined to stick by your side despite your efforts. Luckily the pack’s alpha, Gunter, is settled right behind your head and acted as your pillow for the night. He must be why your neck feels stiff as hell.

You reach back and start petting behind his ear, rubbing into the bunch of dotted scars beneath his coarse hair. You feel his body stretch and shake as he wakes up as well. A small whine comes out of him as he gives out an enormous yawn. It makes you yawn as well.

“Ready to start the day?” you whisper to him.

He huffs with a bit of attitude as if to say, “Not really, but what choice do I have?”

You redirect his attention to his pups, preventing you from sitting up without disturbing everyone else. With silent understanding, he removes himself from underneath your head and carefully steps over one of his brothers, who has graciously allowed you to use him as an armrest somewhere during the night. After another good morning stretch, Gunter begins the slow and steady process of picking the pups up from the scruffs off their necks and setting them elsewhere on your bed.

While he does this, you grab your phone and do a quick sweep of all your notifications. You have a few emails, one a weekly newsletter about current and future school events, most of it spam. You have a couple of dozen messages from Ace and Deuce detailing an argument over whether the former ate the latter’s piece of strawberry shortcake they were saving for after dinner. Apparently, they thought to ask you to be their mediator since it was clear they weren’t going anywhere arguing and pointing fingers back and forth at each other.

Unfortunately for them, they messaged you right after you conked out. You were exhausted yesterday, having to deal with an especially rambunctious and mischievous Grim. You were also scrambling to gather the reading materials needed for one of your classes before the other students can snag them. The most recent and urgent incident is figuring out what to do now that the only generator that powers up all of Ramshackle is going out or outright failing to even start up at all. You also have a decently sized garden to tend to, and the next large harvest is today. Once everything has been properly collected, washed, and either stored away in your pantry or given to Sam so he can sell and make a profit on your behalf and his own (it’s a 60/40 split and you had to fight tooth and nail for that 60), you have to replant everything once again after you’ve tilled the soil…

To say that there’s a lot on your plate is an understatement.

Free from your furry prison, you’re finally able to sit up and move your limbs freely. Something slightly damp presses against your bare shoulder, calling for your attention. Gunter, still clearly tired (expected of anyone, human or wolf, having to wake up at six o’clock in the morning), is now awaiting proper payment for his services.

“I got some dried venison in the kitchen,” you offer. The way his one good eye pops wide open and his tail begins to rapidly wag, the deer jerky will suffice.

You give the top of his head one last rub before standing up and heading straight for your bathroom to take a quick shower. Since the availability of electricity has been scarce lately, so is the availability of heating throughout the dorm. Unlike the ghosts, who can’t differentiate between hot and cold (unless it’s magically sourced), you can. Unlike the ghosts who are already dead, you will die in this late winter cold. Grim has better control of his blue flames compared to when you first met him, so he can now essentially be his own heater. He seemed a bit too comfortable keeping himself warm and letting you freeze to death, considering you’re the only reason he’s enrolled in this school.

You make do with what you have and your situation. Even when you gathered all the untorn and clean blankets and piled them on top of you last night, the cold still found its way underneath your cocoon. Gunter, the leader of a small bunch of wolves you had been taking care of during your first few weeks in Twisted Wonderland, must have seen you struggling to stave off the cold and settled himself next to you during the night followed by his brother, his sister, and finally Gunter’s mate and their pups.

Of course, with three full-grown wolves and four chubby wolf babies as your immediate heat sources, you overheated in no time and had to throw off all your covers and strip down to your underclothes in the middle of the night since your pajamas had quickly gotten soaked in sweat (and most definitely covered in their thick fur). A cold shower is just what you need to clean up after a long night drenched in sweat.

You also need to clean your sheets, but without electricity, your washer and dryer are out of order for the time being…

Dammit.

Cold showers suck, but once the ice-cold water hits your back, it woke you the hell up. You probably spent only five minutes in there before you quickly rinsed off and got out because of how unbearable the ice water was.

Once you’re properly toweled dried, you head to your closet and change. You put on clothes you don’t mind getting covered in dirt and sweat; a simple wool sweatshirt and some overalls lined with thick fleece. You also put on a pair of knitted crew socks and secure them to your leg with a pair of garters.

Right as you snap the final metal clasp on the knotted fabric, you feel a familiar bump on your shoulder. Gunter is giving you his best pleading face he can manage. Most people likely wouldn’t fall for it, what with the many scars littering across his body and face, making him look scary rather than cute. You feel a little tug in your heart. Luckily, you’re all dressed up and ready to start your day, so you quickly straighten up and usher him downstairs to give him his well-deserved treat. You grab your phone before you exit your room so you can peruse it on your way.

As you read over old texts and useless emails, a new notification comes in. It’s another message. As surprised as you are to receive a message so early in the morning (Ace and Deuce are likely still snoring and drooling into their pillows at this hour), it is the sender of the text that makes your slowed strides halt completely.

Good morning. I hope you had a pleasant and well-deserved night of rest. I’m currently getting ready to head over to the Ramshackle dorm to help you with your harvesting, as I promised. The coat you’ve made and gifted me during the holidays also fits perfectly and is by far the most comfortable piece of clothing I now own.

Thank you again for your most generous gift. I will inform you when I have arrived.

Yours truly,

Malleus Draconia

You can’t help but smack your palm on your forehead. You’re not annoyed or exasperated, it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re happy that Malleus’s charm can somehow manifest even within a text message. In fact, this isn’t the first time he’s sent you a message formatted and written like a formal letter. If someone were to look at the small messaging history between you two, they’d see that a great majority of it is just Malleus sending you these long strings of text. They would also find your messages, or rather, your poor and embarrassing attempts at mimicking his language and style (he says he gets a laugh out of them, so maybe they’re as bad as you think). There’s also always a follow-up message, gently reminding and encouraging him to relax and not worry about offending you for speaking casually for you.

His response is always the same, and it makes your stomach feel strangely fuzzy.

You have earned my respect, now I must strive to earn yours.

It’s only been a little over a month since he dropped the bombshell that was his desire for your friendship to evolve into a proper, romantic relationship. To say it surprised you is another understatement. You were thoroughly flabbergasted once your mind finally registered his words as genuine. To hear him say “I love you” and direct such a powerful statement towards you was truly the last thing you expected since arriving in this strange world.

But through all the outer uncertainties there was one thing you were certain of, your inner uncertainties. Malleus is a dear friend of yours. Even amongst Ace or Deuce, two individuals who have been with you since the beginning and nearly every overblot incident that has come your way, Malleus holds a special place in your heart as your dearest friend.

But a friend is all he’s ever been in your mind. There was truly never an instance where you pondered or even held some amount of desire or expectation that your friendship could evolve into something more. You felt like a total prick during the end of his confession, asking him if you could sit on his words for a while and come back to him when you have a more certain and final answer to give. Watching the hope and nervousness in his eyes turn into one of pure and utter sadness and even embarrassment, yet he willed himself to conceal his heartbroken emotions back for your sake. It hurt like hell. What was supposed to be an exciting and relaxing end-of-winter-break party in Scarabia’s dorm (and an apology party for Jamil’s actions against you), turned awkward. Neither of you stayed any longer once you went your separate ways.

Despite what had happened, when you received a proper smartphone (and a proper phone plan to boot) as a gift for Christmas, one of the first things you did was transfer all your old contacts into the new device. The first person you messaged was Malleus, wanting to check in on him after your last encounter and to wish him a happy holiday. He answered back in a matter of minutes, much to your surprise. While he’s not the most tech-savvy, your major concern was whether he was holding up well after what happened and if you guys were going to remain as friends. You went on a whole tangent, trying your best to not sound so desperate and ensure that your response is in no way his fault because it most certainly is not. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s you.

Gunter suddenly tenses up. His fur instinctually puffs out, trying to appear bigger in anticipation of whatever threat he’s detected in the kitchen. Metallic clanking and clashing come from underneath the kitchen island where you store all the pots, pans, and heavy-duty appliances. A loud and harsh crash riles up Gunter enough that he feels the need to growl at whatever is underneath the cupboard.

You quietly move past him and wave your arm, signaling him to move back a bit. He listens to your orders and takes a few slow steps back. You position yourself on the side of the cabinet, fingertips pressing onto the top of the door to prepare to open.

“On my mark,” you whisper to Gunter. “One... Two…Three!”

You yank the door open, and Gunter quickly launches himself towards the potential threat. Though, not a second passes before he’s suddenly skidding across the floor, trying to immediately halt himself. He barely avoids hitting his head against the wood and giving himself a nasty bruise. When you ask him what’s wrong, he sticks his head into the cabinet and pulls out the apparent intruder.

It’s Blossom, a young fawn you rescued from the rose gardens of the Heartslaybul dorm. It was during the preparation of the unbirthday party near the start of the school year that subsequently led to dorm leader Riddle’s overblot. Cater assigned Grimm, Ace, Deuce, and yourself to paint the roses red with him. On top of rose painting duty, Cater was also on the lookout for a supposed ‘rose thief’ who had been snagging some roses from their garden right from under their noses. The scoundrel they were looking for was the fawn before you. From the way he still wobbled on his feet, he wasn’t even a month old when you initially rescued him. He’s lucky you found him when you did. His front leg was caught in a rusted and dull, but full-sized bear trap they set up in case the thief was a wild animal.

“What are you doing in there?” you ask the little troublemaker. “Probably trying to find a snack to chew on, huh?”

Blossom thrashes, trying to break free from Gunter’s hold on his scruff. He of course fails, but not without giving out a distressed scream and trying to plead for forgiveness by giving you his best innocent look. You shake your head before looking up at the small clock hung up on the wall above the refrigerator. It runs on battery so you have to worry about the time no longer being correct when the house lacks power.

It’s 6:15, still way too early. You tell Gunter to let go of Blossom and he does it without argument. Blossom quickly runs up to you, using your own body as a foothold to jump up into your arms. Once you have a hold of him, he bombards your face with little licks and nuzzles of his snout. While this action is normal and you would gladly accept it, you know better than to think it’s not the fawn’s attempts at trying to distract you from his misdeed.

“If you’re looking for the sugared flower petals, you won’t have any luck down there,” you tell him. He immediately stops his loving ministrations and gives out a disappointingly snort before relaxing in your arms.

You chuckle and give him a few apologetic pets on the head as you walk over to one of the upper cupboards and rummage around the various jars, trying to locate the dried venison for Gunter. You also grab a jar placed far in the back with the aforementioned candied rose petals Blossom was most definitely looking for. The moment you open the jar and the heavy scent of sweetness and floral whiffs in the air, Blossom begins to excitedly thrash about in your arms and tries to stick his head into the container. Luckily, the small nubs on his head, his newly budding antlers, stop him from reaching too deep.

You spend the next few minutes feeding your companions their early morning treat. The doorbell rings as you let Blossom lick the last specks of sugar off of your now damp palm. After rinsing your hands off and drying them, you head to the door. You open it and take in the sight of a newly arrived Malleus, dressed in a simple black dress shirt and a pair of loose-fitting linen pants you made for him when he expressed discomfort over his PE uniform the last time he helped you in your garden.

“Good morning!” you greet him as brightly as you can without being too loud.

“A good morning to you as well,” he greets back. Unlike you, who is still groggy and slow, he seems properly energized despite the time. You’re jealous. You’ve been waking up at the crack of dawn for years, at least a decade now, yet your body isn’t used to the early routine. Though compared to the hundreds of years Malleus has on you, you probably won’t show any sign of improvement until your hairs are gray.

“Have you eaten yet?” Malleus asks.

You shake your head. “The electricity is out, so I can’t use the stove or open the fridge too often.”

“Crowley still hasn’t replaced your generator?”

“No,” you frown. “Every time I try to bring it up he either gives an outlandish excuse or just flat out tells me I don’t need a new one.”

His eyebrows pressed together, clearly upset as you are at the headmaster’s failure as your caretaker. You reassure him it’s fine. Everyone in the dorm has been saving money for emergencies like this, and it just so happens that the money you’ll make for selling the produce you collect today will bring in just enough to buy a brand new generator. You’ll be out of electricity for another week, two at most, but have enough firewood and nonperishable foods to last until then.

“You should at least make yourself some coffee,” Malleus urges. “It’s bad to work on an empty stomach. You've said so yourself.”

“I will once Grim and the ghosts wake up,” you reassure. “For now, let’s head to the back and get started. There’s a lot to harvest, so the sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish up.”

He’s clearly unhappy at your dismal of his concerns. You know that being so nonchalant towards a fae is rude, but you don’t want to worry him with your own issues. You also have no desire to eat or drink, not this early in the morning at least. If you tell him as much, he’ll probably freak out like he did last time, thinking you were unwell and forcing you to lie in bed for the rest of the day.

Yes, you could have pushed back and argued that you were fine, but it’s very hard to tell him “no” when his intentions are purely out of concern for your well-being. Better to let him hover over you and see that you’re fine than to leave him stewing in his anxieties in silence.

“What have you been growing this season?” Malleus asks as he tugs on the loaned gardening gloves you handed him.

“The usual spread. Some potatoes, cabbage, and carrots. The only fresh additions I planted are some peas and kale. Oh, and broccoli!”

“Did the crops hold well when you were gone?”

“They did thanks to the ghosts. The heat from the fire faeries around the campus also made them easier to protect from the cold,” you explain. “I should probably give them some type of exotic wood as a little thank you gift.”

“You can never go wrong with a bit of mahogany,” Malleus says as he ties back his hair.

You hand him a straw hat, one that you weaved to accommodate for his black horns. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” he smiles at you before turning back to your garden. “So where shall we start first?”

“I’ll work on picking the cabbage heads. You can cut off the pea pods and we’ll go from there.”

“Very well. I’ll follow your lead.”

It’s 8 a.m. You know this because Ace and Deuce are woken up at this hour by Riddle and one of the first things they do is bombard you with text messages which usually forces you to turn your phone on silent mode. Despite it being late winter, you’re already working up a sweat from the repetitive and demanding motions of picking and carrying around baskets full of vegetables and cleaning them. Malleus is no better, hand continuously raising to his face to wipe away the constant wetness clinging to his forehead. You know he’s not used to manual labor like you are, so you try to bring him a pail of water every so often so he can stay properly hydrated.

“Oh my, you’re already up?”

You turn around to see who’s speaking to you and see one of the ghosts that live with you and Grim in Ramshackle floating towards you.

“Good morning!” you greet him. “Did you need something?”

“No no,” he shakes his head. “I just came to check up on my bees and saw you already hard at work.”

The ghost (Franklin is his name, but you all call him Frankie for short by his insistence), affectionately ruffles your hair with his large white palm. He’s one of the tamer ghosts, but he’s still capable of pulling a prank on you or his fellow housemates now and then. You and he have been cultivating and maintaining a small beehive since October, but he does most of the work and maintenance since he has more experience in the ways of beekeeping than you from when he was alive.

Frankie does a quick once over of the garden, his scanning gaze doubling back at seeing Malleus carefully rinse a couple of heads of broccoli.

“How long has he been here?”

“Since 6:30,” you answer back. “Why?”

“No one gets up that early unless it’s for someone they fancy,” he says rather nonchalantly, but the way he quickly side-eyes you show that he’s clearly talking about you. You try your best to appear unaffected and give a “Is that right?” type of hum, but your efforts are in vain since he just laughs at you.

“If even you know, that means he’s got it bad.”

You say nothing back because you honestly don’t know what to say, or if you should. You’re content to just go back to plucking potatoes out from the ground, but Frankie doesn’t seem to want to leave you alone just yet. He asks you to come with him to the greenhouse where the hive is being kept. The small glass enclosure also houses some flowers and herbs you use for cooking or medicine.

You quickly close the door behind you once you enter, reveling in the warmer air that hits your face. While Frankie lights his cigar and gets a heavy cloud of smoke going (his personal method of keeping the bees calm), he has you open the top and carefully pull out the panels one by one while he checks for any signs of a decaying hive and ensures the queen is alive and healthy. One of your initial worries about beekeeping was getting stung, but Frankie reassured you it’ll only happen if you purposely upset the bees or fail to care for the hives consistently. Now, you gladly let the buzzing honeybees wander around your bare skin.

As Frankie pulls out his cigar from between his lips and taps off the ashes into the respective ashtray, he looks over at you and asks, “Is everything ok?”

You give him a confused expression as you snap the cover for the hive back into place. “I’m fine?”

“You sure? Because if you ask me, you don’t seem like it.”

“I mean, I already have a pile of schoolwork I need to finish and a rundown dorm to take care of. I’m as ok as anyone in my position can be-“

“I’m not talking about any of that,” he interrupts. “I’m talking about you. Forget about Grim and your studies. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” you answer again.

“Are you sure?”

Well, when he puts it that way, even he must be able to see that you’re clearly not doing alright. In fact, you haven’t been alright since you were literally kidnapped and held against your will in the Scarabia dorm. Luckily everything worked out fine for everyone else, but not so much for you. You’ve noticed that your appetite is waning and you wake up multiple times during the night because you don’t feel safe, even in your own room.

Malleus’s confession unfortunately was another wrench being thrown at you. With your hands already so full of this and that, you’re struggling to figure out what needs a priority and which issues you need to either drop entirely or find someone trustworthy to take care of it in your stead. It’s hard to ask people for help when they either find a convenient reason to say no or you feel as if you can’t trust them to do something as simple as watering your plants. The only person you feel you can trust and ask for help is Malleus, and things aren’t exactly as they were between the two of you.

“Talk to me kiddo,” Frankie prods. “What’s been eating at you?”

He lifts his ashtray and makes to snuff out his cigar so he can focus on speaking to you, but you hastily reach over and stop him. You take the smoke from him and bring it up to your lips and puff a few grey clouds. Strangely enough, it tastes rather pleasant, floral, and creamy. You didn’t expect to taste like this because of the way it smells, like soil that was just freshly rained on.

“Sorry,” you hand it back to him. “I haven’t eaten and I’m practically running on fumes.”

“That’s alright,” he says, handing it back to you. “You look like you need it more than me.”

Malleus carefully blows small bits of green fire onto his freezing fingertips, trying to warm them up after being drenched in the icy water from the water pump. He looks over his shoulder, over the stalks of peas, towards you. You’re still in the greenhouse and frantically moving your lips. He can see your eyes are glistening with a fresh layer of… tears? You don’t allow a single drop to get past your lids, wiping them just at the last second before they can pass over the threshold.

He’s only ever seen you cry one other time, when he came to your rescue in Scarabia over the break. He initially thought he frightened you with his aggressive display of magic. Once the dust settled and the blot on Jamil was expunged, no one was more shocked than he was when you boldly ran straight towards him and jumped into his arms. It was all he ever wanted, what his mind dreamed of every single time he closed his eyes. He could no longer brush off the fluttering in his stomach as the mere excitement of making and spending time with his first genuine friend. He was determined to keep his newfound affections for you with him under lock and key, not willing to risk ruining your close-knit friendship with his selfish and potentially one-sided desires.

Your desperate embrace, your toughie exterior lowering to that of a sniveling and shaking human, gave Malleus the impression that the only reason you would display such vulnerability before him was that you reciprocated his sentiments. It gave him a sense of confidence he never knew he was lacking, usually so sure of himself most other times. It made his chest burn with an aching desire to say “to hell with it all” and spill his heart right then and there.

When you extended the invitation you received from Kalim to him, he saw it as his proper opportunity to let his affections be known. He was upset (according to Lilia, more than usual) that he had to take Sebek and Silver along with him for the usual security, but he was determined to get them distracted long enough so he can pull you aside and confess to you without fear of interruption or letting his personal affairs be known to anyone else, at least, for as long as he can keep something so monumental under wraps.

As a prince, he has been taught to look at the long term for each of his decisions, as they carry substantial weight. The long term of pursuing a relationship with you meant having to deal with the prejudices and stigma against humans that still live within the hearts of his people. For once in his life, he didn’t want to think like an heir. As he watches you continue to talk to one of Ramshackle’s ghosts with increasing frustration, he realizes his love utterly blinded him back then. The only long-term his rose-tinted mind could comprehend was of the happy moments he had long conjured in his head becoming a reality.

You didn’t explicitly reject him, however; he knows your behavior well enough to know that once his feelings were laid bare before you, you would not take them into your arms and hand yours over in return. Arms crossed and avoidance of eye contact, you do this when you’re nervous or unsure, sometimes both. He held onto the self-indulgent hope that you’d show him what you look like when flustered. Perhaps you’d stutter?

You did stutter when you spoke up, but they were not the words that he wanted, that he thought he was, going to hear.

“Malleus...I’m so sorry…”

“Ah, you’re here early!”

“It’s just that…I don’t think I can…”

“Hey! Are you listening to me? You better not be ignoring me on purpose!”

“It’s not that I’m telling you I don’t feel the same way, but I can’t exactly say that I do. It’s just... I’ve never- “

“Tsu-no-ta-rou!” Grim’s shrill voice, still a bit riddled with drowsiness, still pierce Malleus’s eardrums and nearly causes him to drop the vegetable in his hand. “Pay attention to me when I’m speaking!”

“Quiet,” he growls at the monster. “If you need your master, they’re in the greenhouse. Though, you might want to come back another time.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

Malleus lifts Grim from the back of his fuzzy robe (you must have made it and gifted it to him during the holidays) and points to you. Frankie has one of his translucent hands on your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly now and then while he speaks. You were no longer wiping your face so furiously, allowing your tears to fall and drip off of your jaw and wet your shirt as you listened to your fellow dorm resident.

“What happened? Did you smash all the tomatoes again?” Grim cranes his neck to look at Malleus accusingly.

“No, I didn’t. Those are out of season.”

“Maybe it’s about what happened at Scarabia,” Grim muses. “They haven’t been sleepin’ too good since we came back, y’know?”

Malleus nearly drops the cat. “They haven’t?”

“Nah,” the cat answers, far too casually and dismissively for the fae’s liking.

“This is news to me,” Malleus says, almost whispering to himself. He’s sad, almost offended, at the fact that you haven’t told him you’ve been having some difficulties this whole time. You normally keep him up to date with your personal life. He’s even more offended once he realizes that you’ve been worrying and reassuring him that your friendship with him isn’t ruined after what’s happened.

There’s a small voice in the back of his mind, conniving and twisted, that feeds into his already prevalent belief that your unwillingness to share with him your personal problems anymore is a sign that he hasn’t earned your respect. It’s a ridiculous explanation, but no amount of reassuring from either you or himself is going to stop his Mind from asking such a multi-sided question. Surely, if you thought admirably of him, you’d continue to allow him to bear witness to your moments of weakness and vulnerability. He feels close to you, connected to you in a way he’s never felt. He can be slow and downright miss some references to your jokes and behavior. You always put on a face of understanding, but is he so lost that your patience has worn paper-thin?

Are his feelings for you truly one-sided? Is he still jumping to conclusions too soon and just needs to give you more time and space? Did he just set a course for a ruined friendship or could his hastiness have been a fruitful gamble?

If it’s not iron that kills him, it’s the uncertainty within his heart and mind.

A shrill whistle pierces through the air and Malleus’s eardrums. Grim hisses at the sudden noise and the hairs on his neck stand up. Even Frankie and you can hear and turn your heads towards the source despite still being in the middle of a conversation. The one who whistled was another one of the ghosts who live in Ramshackle. Johnathan is his name, usually shortened to Johnny. His sunken cheekbones make him look unassuming, but you’ve rightly warned Malleus never to turn your back on that one for too long. It’s a miracle that you can keep up with all their shenanigans.

“I got the generator to start up and made some coffee!” Johnny happily announces. “Come get it while it and the dorm are nice and warm!”

“I’ll have a cup or two, so long as there’s a ton of cream and sugar!” Grim says whilst smiling. “And I ain’t skimping this time on the sugar!”

“You better if you know what’s good for you,” you sternly say, now out of the greenhouse along with Frankie. “We’re short on sugar and I’m not stocking up till next weekend.”

“Whaaaat?!” Grim exclaims, his lower jaw almost reaching the floor. “Since when did you become such a cheapskate?”

Everyone, including Malleus, did a sharp intake of breath as soon as the words passed the cat’s mouth. Everyone turns their head towards you, awaiting your reaction to Grim’s comment. This isn’t the first time Grim has gotten lippy with you and, given his nature as a mischievous little monster (a common trait between Ramshackle’s residents, Malleus is now noticing), it won’t be his last no matter how badly you scare or pull a fast one under his clawed feet. Even when your face is all puffy and wet with semi-dried tears, the look of “oh you’re in it now” is still so panic-inducing to everyone, ghosts, and feline alike. To the sole Fae present, he thinks of you as nothing short of adorable and wants nothing more than to wipe your messy face clean.

“Well, if you want more sugar there is one way you can get some more.”

“W-W-What is it?” Grim says, pudgy body shaking and sinking into the comfort and small safety of his fuzzy robe.

You approach him and bend down to grab him by the back of his neck, lifting him so he’s at your eye level before deadpanning, “Get a job, Make some money, and then buy your own.”

Once you set Grim down, he scrambles back into the home with an almost comical amount of fear in his eyes. He screams about how he’s never getting a job even if it kills him and his continued determination to find the small money vault you have hidden around the dorm and spend it all on canned tuna. Johnny, Frankie, and you all give a unison chant of good luck to him before he disappears completely.

“Has he made any progress in his search?” Malleus asks.

“Our money vault isn’t even in the house, so no,” Johnny answers, resulting in you and Frankie cackling and high-five one another.

With the power back on, you announce that it was time for a well-deserved break. It’s your turn to make breakfast and you immediately begin to ask everyone for their preferences. Frankie cuts you off and insists he take over your duties for the day. You normally would protest and insist to whoever was offering to cover for you it wasn’t a problem for you at all. “I enjoy doing [insert chore], so it’s fine!” is your usual go-to reasoning, but not this time.

Malleus notices the way you make to protest as usual, but you quickly back down and just let Frankie go ahead inside to take over for you. In normal Ramshackle fashion, Frankie mentions the cigar you were puffing and waving around earlier and says that you owe him another one, particularly an artisanal one that he’s recently read about in the local newspaper and has been aching to try.

“You got any more highly specific goods you want me to fight tooth and nail for?” you sneer.

“No, just the cigar will do,” he says before turning around to head back inside. Before he can close the door behind him all the way he pulls it back and says, “If you get it sometime this week I’ll buy a new bag of sugar.”

You whisper an impressive string of curses under your breath. Malleus has to restrain the urge to laugh at your colorful vocabulary.

“In that case, I hope your schedule is free tomorrow night. I’ll have it by then.”

Frankie gives you a thumbs up before heading back inside. Once the door behind him clicks shut, you turn towards Malleus and he physically feels his body shift from somewhat relaxed to stiff and proper. You notice this and crinkle your nose a bit, something to do when you find something endearing or as a way of silently giggling. Malleus watches with such an unnecessary amount of focus as you reach up to adjust his straw hat and wipe a bit of dirt off the collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry for leaving you hanging back there,” you say as you pick off a stray leaf that somehow got tangled in his dark locks. “I’m also sorry you had to see me crying like that. I’ve just been so tired lately.”

There it is again. That damn twisting ache right in his heart.

“It’s fine,” he reassures you. “But if it isn’t too rude of me to ask, is your lack of sleep really all that’s wrong with you?”

You give out a long sigh. “I’m guessing Grim told you a bit of what’s been happening since winter break?”

“He has.”

Your arms cross and the ground suddenly becomes more interesting. You’re unsure, but the way your eyebrows press together is a sign that you’re conflicted. Malleus feels his frostbitten hands accumulate a layer of sweat as you silently mull over your thoughts. Despite the pain and hesitance in his heart, he wills himself to grasp you by the arm and pull you into an awkward hug. He knows it’s not exactly what you might need at the moment, and he was fully preparing you to push him away. He’s relieved when you bring your arms around his torso and reciprocate the embrace.

“I’m tired,” you sigh

“You haven’t been resting well, so it makes sense.“

“No,” you shake your head, the tips of your hair tickling Malleus’s neck. “It’s not just a lack of sleep that’s making me feel exhausted. After what happened with Scarabia, especially with Jamil, I don’t feel safe anymore.”

“Are you afraid?” he asks. To think of you as fearful is an entirely foreign concept for him when you’ve only ever been confident and certain of yourself since the first time he met you.

“Yeah, I am,” you admit without skipping a beat.

Considering what you told him, Malleus thinks your fear is justified. You have no defense against magic…

He fills a strain in his neck as his entire body suddenly seized up. You notice this and pull away to ask him what’s wrong. “Nothing,” he quickly dismisses, but you don’t let him go silent on you.

“If,” he hesitates. He’s thinking too rashly already, yet he’s still so compelled to act upon his thoughts. “Should anyone attempt to do you harm, I swear upon my name and title that I will do whatever it takes to protect you.”

He means every word, but you seem to take it far too casually than he would have liked. You press your face against his shoulder and laugh against his skin, your breath bringing him some much-needed temporary warmth. Such an ordinary action, yet it causes another pang within his heart. It settles next to the one that arose before, but he bites his tongue and endures it for your sake.

“Maybe you could play that electric violin for whoever comes after me,” you jest.

As embarrassing as it is to hear that you know about that incident (he’ll have to reprimand Lilia for telling you about that), he can’t help but laugh along with you. If making a bunch of teenagers’ foam from the mouth amuses you, then so be it.

“Thank you for offering to get your hands dirty for my sake,” you say. “That’s one thing I respect about you. You take care of the people you care for.”

His body goes still once again. “Is that right?” is all his mind can wrap around and say.

“Yes, oh Wise and Great Lord Malleus. I do, in fact, respect you.”

He cringes at that title. It’s something he has heard Sebek try to enforce you to refer to Malleus as, which you never do purely so you can get a rise out of his loyal guard. Before he can ask you to never call him that again, a bunch of howl’s ring out, and the two of you pull away from each other. The wolf’s howling is usually a sign that food is ready, which you seem rather eager to get to as you interlock your arm with his and drag him inside with you.

He looks back at his basket of still dirty vegetables. “What about-“

“It’s alright! I’m not throwing a fuss over a few broccoli heads!”

Crispy bacon, over easy and scrambled eggs, and a mountain of sizzling hash browns. Once everyone grabs a plate and sits down at the dining table (Malleus sticks close to you, hoping he can sit next to you), they grab whatever pieces of food they want in whichever quantity. Somewhere in the next room over, a faint melody plays through the speaker of an old record player. The vintage singer has a rather cheeky attitude in her vocals but with the accompanying music, it all comes together harmoniously. It’s perfect for a rather excitable breakfast.

It seems you never told the ghosts too many details about your sudden disappearance during the break. You downplay the true extent of your dilemma as you willingly giving your time and effort to help a desperate Jamil figure out what was causing his normally kind dorm leader to have a sudden personality switch. The ghosts listen carefully, and as you gradually get to the big climax that is Jamil’s betrayal and overblot, followed by Malleus’s sudden appearance, they’re all practically hanging on the edge of their seats. Your tale even intrigues the wolves and Blossom. They gather and settle near the legs of your chair, ushering you to continue your story by whining and scratching your ankle.

You don’t exaggerate Malleus’s part in your tale, something he greatly appreciates. You tell them how things happened just as they did: Grey clouds suddenly covering the sky and the occasional peak of lightning through their fogginess. Just when it seems like Jamil has the upper hand and is going to put an end to Grim and you, as well as Jade, Floyd, and Azul of Octavinelle, Malleus appears out of nowhere and effortlessly zaps the blot right out of the vice dorm leader of Scarabia.

“That deserves some praise,” Benjamin, the third of your ghostly residents, raises his half-filled mug of coffee and extends it towards the middle of the table. “To Malleus!”

Everyone, including you and Grim, raises your glasses and repeats his chant. “To Malleus!”

“To me, I suppose,” Malleus half-heartedly raises his own cup. “It really wasn’t much effort, or any praise really.”

He catches you looking at him in his peripheral and he feels a lump form in this throat that he immediately swallows. “I simply did what I believed you would have done for me if our positions were reversed.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” you say after swallowing a hefty mouthful of scrambled eggs. “But it’s nice knowing you have my back. It makes me feel safe.”

“Safe?” Malleus is surprised to hear you say this, considering what you told him earlier. “I make you feel safe?”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. “Y-Yeah. I guess you do.”

“You guess?”

“You do,” you say, more definitively this time. “I promise. If you didn’t you’d know.”

He can’t help but laugh. “I can only imagine what interacting with you would be like then.”

“Probably not that good, or not at all. I steer clear of people I don’t particularly like.”

His eyebrows raise in intrigue as he sips his now lukewarm coffee. “What makes you dislike someone?”

“I dislike people I have no respect for,” you say casually. Malleus thinks you might be joking or poking fun at him, but how you take the time to look up to him while you busy yourself with feeding Gunter a few bits of bacon clearly means you’re trying to tell him something secretly. It’s definitely something along the lines of, “I don’t know where this mindset of me not respecting you came from, but it’s a load of bullshit and you need to get that thought out of your head.”

Even within his head, your language is still so vulgar and blunt. Only you would talk to him in such a rude manner.

But he respects that part about you.

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