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staranon95 · 3 years ago

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DinCobb Week Day 1: Clan of Three (SFW)

@dincobbweek is finally here! ive never participated in something like this before so hopefully i don’t run away with any of the ideas lol. anyway, here’s my version of Clan of Three

AO3 Link

i could never stay away (not this time not from you)

“This was well earned, partner.”

The Marshal Vanth hefts the Mandalorian armour onto Din’s speeder. The man no longer seems to be morose at the fact of losing the armour and seems rather relieved that it’s all over.

“It was a good fight,” Vanth says, looking out over that half carven carcass of the krayt itself. “I hate to see that it’s finally over.”

“I thought you would be happy to see the threat to your town is over,” Din says as he secures the armour to his speeder. He covers the slab of meat while he’s at it, and the Child turns his ears down now that his easy source for a free meal is covered.

“I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout the krayt.” Vanth sends him one of those easy smiles in Din’s direction, and Din has to look to the speeder, setting his hands on the helmet. “Listen if you ever find yourself in the area.”

Din nods once. “I’ll have to take you up on that drink. If it’s still available.”

“Hey, I hope our paths will cross again. But you got a friend in me, partner.” He extends his hand and Din reaches up to shake it, and it remains for a time, Vanth squeezing reassuringly before he slides his hand away in what can only be a deliberate move. “Oh, and you tell your people it wasn’t me that broke that thing.” He points to the Rising Phoenix before he’s walking off, armourless and relaxed, towards his people and the Tuskens.

Din sets his hand on the helmet and rubs his hand down over the crown of it. When he hears the Child coo next to him in a questioning tone, he realizes he’s still staring at Vanth’s retreating figure and the lean lines of his body.

He turns to the Child. “What do you think?”

The Child tilts his head, ears flicking upward.

“Want to get back to the ship or stay for the night?”

“Abwa.”

“That’s what I’d thought you’d say. Hold on.”

He lifts the Child and sets him in the bag that sits on the side of the speeder. The Child knows what’s coming and hunkers down as Din mounts the speeder and ignites the engine for the long road back to Mos Eisley.

This time his journey only takes a matter of hours rather than a full day. He knows where Mos Pelgo is now and it’s a fairly direct route through the rocky outcroppings and shifting dunes. Four or five hours by speeder? It’s not a bad ride, and he’s left undisturbed throughout the entirety of it, pulling into Mos Eisley just after the twin suns have passed their zenith.

He’s looking forward to the cool embrace of the Razor Crest. He can’t say he likes Tatooine for it’s sun and heat, and his flight suit and beskar’gam do not make for a cool system to work within.

He swings his leg off of the speeder and lifts the cover off of the krayt meat as Peli Motto approaches him.

“I take it your trip was a success?” She marvels at the slap of meat and snaps her fingers at her droids to come over and handle it.

“In more than one way,” Din says as he begins to take his equipment off of the borrowed speeder in an effort to return it to the Razor Crest.

“Oh! Mando, before you go.” She holds her hands up and looks to the Child expectantly, and Din nods. “Aha, come here you little womprat.” The Child extends his arms to be picked out of the bag, but his attention is still on the meat and to where the pit droids have carried it to an open grill. “So I guess you found it then? Mos Pelgo?”

“I did indeed.”

“What’s it like out that way?”

“Small.”

“Well, that’s frontier towns out there for ya.”

“Do you know of the town’s Marshal at all? Cobb Vanth?”

“Cobb Vanth you say?” Peli looks to the sky and then turns her attention to the Child. “Can’t say I have. The name sounds familiar, though. There was a rebellion a few years back before the second Death Star went—” she uses her free hand to mimic an explosion “—it could’ve been one of his names I was hearing.”

Din hums. He wonders if she’s recalling the story of the Mining Collective that attacked Vanth’s town, but Vanth seems the type to have been in the rebellion business awhile. Sticking up for the small folks. Building something out of nothing. Giving everything he has to those he’s decided to protect.

Including giving up a set of Mandalorian battle armour even if that armour could’ve saved him countless more times.

“So are you heading out tonight then?” Peli asks.

“I was thinking . . .” He trails off and looks to the ship then looks at the armour he clutches in a bundle.

He never did take the Marshal up on his drink.

“I think I might stay for a few days yet,” he says. “There are still some unfinished matters I have to see to.”

“Ah, well, that’s the charm of Tatooine then. Everyone’s itching to leave ‘til they realize there’s more to it than meets the eye. Some of the old timers like to say everything starts and end on Tatooine but that’s only because they’ve never been anywhere.”

Din knows he has a promise to keep. To find the Child’s people and bring him to them. And his own personal drive of locating Mandalorians, his tribe, his own people.

If he has a people.

“At least stay for a bite to eat,” Peli says. “Seems like the kid here is wanting to have something too.”

Din nods. This is something he can do.

There are many things in his life that would be categorized as unfinished business, missed opportunities and the like. If he has to admit it, he would say he’s tired—tired of the grind, of the running, of fighting, and it’s been a long time since he’s connected to someone so quickly like Vanth. Not since Cara Dune perhaps but their professions will lead them in different places. Vanth is here. He’s welcoming and he wants to see more of Din.

And Din, well, he wants to see more of Vanth. How he learned to use the armour. What it was like for him to use the Rising Phoenix the first time.

He might not be a Mandalorian, but he does possess certain traits and qualities a Mandalorian would themselves be admired for.

What if there’s something there? What if there’s a connection?

He can’t know unless he tries.

He sets out just as the first sun touches the horizon. The armour is safely stowed on his ship to make his travel lighter. The Child is safe in his bag, peering out across the sand as they race across it once more, coming into Mos Pelgo just after the suns have set. The town is clearly celebrating the defeat of the krayt and the new peace between them and the Tuskens. The cantina in the center of town is a lively and bright affair, and for a moment as Din pulls the speeder in front of it, he wonders if he shouldn’t have come. It’ll be a lot of attention on him, and he has no intention of being worshipped as a hero. That’s not who he is.

He lifts the Child out of the bag and holds him in his arms. He’ll likely be crushed if they head into the cantina with how full it appears to be.

He walks up the steps and into the cantina and immediately heads turn towards him.

“Hey! Look it’s the Mandalorian!”

The breath in his lungs feels tight at the sudden rush of attention, for people looking his way and wanting to greet him, but then he sees one person cut through the crowd easily—Marshal Vanth.

He’s still dressed as he was—red shirt, cargo pants with a blaster sat in a holster on his hip. The only thing he has removed is his scarf, exposing the lean line of his neck.

“Mando!” He looks genuinely surprised and happy to see Din, a bit pink in the cheeks from imbibing a touch too much spotchka perhaps, but he seems steady on his feet even as he claps a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon! What brings you out this way, huh?”

“I, uh, thought I’d might like to take you up on that drink.”

Vanth’s face splits into a wide grin. “Thought you’d never ask, darlin’. Come with me.” He slings his arm over Din’s shoulders, leading him through the full establishment and keeping the others at bay. “Leave him be, ya vultures.” But it’s all said in good jest and soon Din is being shown to an empty booth far to the other side of the cantina where he and Vanth can sit in peace.

“You mind if I?” Vanth holds up his hands towards the Child, and Din hands him over. The Child is already reaching for Vanth, and they did become close with one another while they negotiated a deal with the Tuskens. It’s why he chose Vanth to look after him if things were to end poorly. He knew, deep down, that Vanth would care for him. Just as he cares for this town and everyone in it.

“I was gonna miss this little fella,” Vanth says. “He sure does pull you in with those big eyes, now doesn’t he?”

“He has,” Din says, but his eyes are on Vanth himself and how relaxed he seems now, like a huge burden has been lifted. He looks happy to be here, and Din wants to bask in that for a little while longer.

They end up talking for a bit, Vanth more often than not and Din less so. Vanth doesn’t seem to mind that Din doesn’t talk about much, but when Din does talk, Vanth looks at him and listens. He asks questions. He asks for clarification if needed. But he listens, and Din doesn’t know about the last time when someone listened like this.

And as the night draws on and as the cantina slowly empties, Din is beginning to feel a deep-seated weariness settle into his joints and bones. The fight is over and now he must rest but—

“I got a spare room,” Vanth offers. “Could get something together for the kid here.” The Child has fallen asleep in the crook of Din’s arm, his ears downturned despite the hum and drum of the cantina.

“I don’t mean to put this on you.”

“Eh, it’s nothing. Just being a good neighbour. And I’m still the Marshal here. It’s my duty to look after folks. Come on. I won’t hear nothin’ about it.”

He follows Vanth to his house, this little place partially sunken into the ground as is Tatooine fashion. It’s a small place, but more space than Din is used to or has been treated to in a long time. Vanth sees that the Child is set down in something of a makeshift crib, and then it’s just the two of them and no one else.

Vanth stretches and rubs at the back of his neck. Then he turns his gaze to Din. “So what now, Mando? You looking to stay for a while?”

“For now.” He looks to the photos hanging on Vanth’s walls, the bookshelf covered in more knickknacks than actual books, the striped blanket over the back of the couch. “I feel as if there is unfinished business between us.”

“Business, huh?” Vanth brushes past him and sits down on the couch, looking relaxed and inviting. “Anything business you want to discuss right now?”

By the way he’s looking at Din, he knows what Din is meaning by the use of business.

“I’m not sure,” Din says.

“Well, lucky for you I’m a patient man. Now come here.” He pats the cushion next to him. “If you don’t mind me sayin’, I want to get a better look at you.”

Din feels himself flush and he moves slowly, deliberately, and sits down next to Vanth.

“There are a lot of things I can offer,” Vanth says. “But it depends on what you’re looking for.”

“And what if I’m not sure?”

“We take things at your pace.”

It’s a lot to consider yet what this halt in Din’s quest, but he thinks he needs this. He thinks he needs Vanth more than he realizes. Needs the respite. Needs the comfort. Needs the support.

He had offered that all to Vanth in the beginning, and now Vanth is here to repay the favour.

“My pace.”

“Mmhm.”

“Then I think it’s only right you know my name. It’s Din.”

Vanth smiles. “Nice to have it, Din. Call me Cobb.”

#dincobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #dincobbweek #dincobbweek2021 #dincobb week #star speaks #star writes #mandalorian

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sixofpomegranates · 3 years ago

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Rain in California - Act 1 - Fame

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 3 - Fame🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ | 🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 6.4k

🥀click here for the previous chapter🥀

TW: ANGST (LIKE REALLY), mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder/abortion/miscarriage, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of OD, PTSD, Self-Harm/Cutting, religious trauma, past physical/psychological abuse on child/teen, abusive parents, teen pregnancy, murder, injustice, withdrawal symptoms,

Songs in this Chapter:

Heartbeat - Don Johnson

Seven hours and a Gastric Suction later, [y/n] felt like hell.

Her throat hurt and the medication they´d given her didn’t work. Now she laid in her hospital room, in her uncomfortable bed and was mostly angry at herself. [y/n] didn’t know why she had acted so stupid…well, probably because she had been high as hell. Not feeling able to control herself, when taken more than usual.

She didn’t want to be so erratic, but when she was high, it just all seemed so easy. Saying the things she thought, doing things she normally would never even dare thinking of, not being hurt by others...On drugs she felt free. Herself.

Although she didn’t even know who she was anymore.

When Spencer was holding her in the bathroom?

That was the first time somebody had said something to her about her addictions, except for ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’, ’It´s not that bad.’, ‘We´re here once you´re ready.’ and ’She´s just having a rough time.’.

It was the first time somebody really seemed to see through her and literally forced her to look at herself in the mirror. To care for her enough to show her tough love. Leroy, Hank and Tom had tried it, but given up on her, sure they supported and cared for her still, but for them she was already too far gone. And they were probably right about it.

But the dog? He still had wanted to help her, even after she tried being her ugliest.

She had gone too far, still remembering his face, the terror in it, when she cut her wrist, when she had taken all her pills at once. [y/n] had wanted to hurt him like that, her mind, her stupid junkie mind, had her convinced, that doing it would be a great way to get back at him.

Because she felt hurt, being rejected by him.

Most likely she had scarred him for life. And now he hadn’t come in, since she was allowed to have visitors, and probably would never come back.

She has successfully driven away the only one that had still cared enough.

Now, mostly sober, she felt like a monster, aware that she was a wreck beyond repair.

Of course she had, in the beginning, thought about stopping. But the drugs were the smaller evil to her, since they calmed her mind and made her forget the pain. She would stay alone forever, unworthy other people´s love, her mind should at least be allowed to be numb.

*****

“I came as fast as I could. What happened?”, Philip handed Spencer a duffle bag, filled with [y/n]´s clothing. He had asked him to bring it, since Spencer didn’t know how long she would stay.

“They pumped her stomach and had to stitch the wound on her wrist.”, he stated, making the short manager´s eyes go wide.

“Are you insane? What if they hurt her vocal cords?”, the tall one tried to remain calm, but had to really force himself to not hit Philip.

Why was that a priority?

“I didn’t wanna let her die. She could´ve OD´d. What would you have done?”, Spencer asked slightly aggravated.

“Carry her to the bathroom and force her to throw up, until nothing´s in her stomach anymore. Then I usually take her to bed and give her water every hour and feed her soup until she´s better.”, the manager explained and Spencer felt like that had to be a joke.

“That has happened before?”, he asked baffled and Philip nodded. “Yeah, a couple of times, but she always either took something or cut herself. Never both at the same time. Where you two fighting again?”, he asked reproachful and Spencer felt the guilt sink into his heart. “See, agent Prentiss? This is why I said, [y/n] didn’t need a bodyguard.”

“I´m sorry, but I don’t think that this is the result of having a bodyguard. It´s much more one to them not getting along and [y/n] being highly addicted to a couple of substances.”, Emily stepped in for Spencer.

The manager just ignored the her obvious insinuation of the rockstars declining mental help, before going into [y/n]´s room. The agents then just looked at each other before going in too.

*****

This was the first time Spencer saw [y/n], since they got here. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to be alone with her before. She was laying in her bed, bandage on her left wrist, looking directly at him when he came in. They had taken of her make-up, making Spencer realize, that she was prettier without it. Her jet black, dark hair in a ponytail. To him she looked calmer and softer like this. The real girl behind the façade. Philip was already all over her.

“[y/n], you look awful.”, he said, shaking up the pillow as she got up a little, to sit.

“Feel like it too.”, her voice sounded a little raspy.

“Poor girl. How is your voice? Do you need anything?” “Fine. My throat´s just a little sore. Can you check me out of here? The faster, the better. That way I can go home without the media knowing.”, Spencer and Emily shared a look.

“The paparazzies showed up an hour ago.”, Emily stated, making [y/n] nod.

She leaned further back in her pillow and looked at Spencer, like she wanted to say something.

“C-Can you still check me out, Philly?”, Philip nodded.

“Of course. I´ll be back asap and then we´ll take you home so you can pack.”, he walked outside and [y/n] looked at Emily.

“Can – I don’t know – you maybe go with him?”, she asked her friendly.

The dark haired woman shared a look with Spencer, who nodded at her. Signaling, that he was okay being alone with the singer again. Emily then nodded and walked after Philip, closing the door on her way out. For a second Spencer thought about leaving the room too. To, no longer, have this black-haired demon take hits against his sanity, but then her voice cut into the silence of the room.

“I´m sorry.”, she said and Spencer wondered, if she was being honest.

“For almost killing yourself?”, he asked her sarcastically and she shook her head.

“For how I treated you.”

“I´ve been through worse. You´d need to be trying way harder, if you want me to break.”, he answered her cold and she began looking at her hands.

“I´m sorry, I tried pressuring you, to take drugs.”, Spencer shrugged at that. “You were high. If I didn’t relapse after the love of my life was killed or when I was put wrongfully into prison, I won´t relapse because a pretty girl is offering me drugs.” “Doesn’t make it better or okay. I saw the token in your room, when I was looking for my pills. I knew and still did it. You must really hate me.”, [y/n]´s voice sounded like she was about to cry.

“I don’t hate you.”, he said gently, sitting down on her bed. [y/n] let out a self-degrading laugh and looked at him, tears filling her eyes. “No, it´s okay. I deserve it.”, she looked over to her IV drip bag, filled with clear liquid, and hit it slightly. “That stuff makes me sentimental.”, she tried saying jokingly, but sounded just sad.

Spencer looked at her for a while, thinking about what he could say. He hadn’t thought she would apologize for how she acted and he had meant what he had told her. He didn’t hate her. Yes, she was emotionally draining to be around, it wasn’t all bad though.

Spencer remembered Philip and how he had talked about the two sides of people.

“That´s no medication, [y/n].”, she looked at him confused. “You lost a lot of water so…Yeah. What you´re feeling is the drugs wearing off.”, he cooed, holding himself back with the rambling. “Nice. That´s what every junkie loves to hear.”, both chuckled a little. “Hey, I give you ten thousand dollar, if you get me some pills, my head hurts like hell.”, she said it in a joking manner, making Spencer chuckle and shake his head.

“No chance. I´m not bribable.”

“Makes you one of few in Hollywood.”, the sound of rain made [y/n] look to the window. “Can you open it?”, he nodded and got up. “Thanks. I love the sound of rain. People always portrait it to be so sad when it rains, but I think it´s nice…cleansing.”

He opened the window and sat next to her bed on the chair. They listened to the sound of raindrops hitting the streets for a while, when he decided to take the shot and ask [y/n], what had been on his mind for the last hours.

“Why are you doing it?”, she looked at Spencer, making a questioning noise. “Cutting yourself, taking drugs.”

“The pain makes you feel alive and the drugs help you hide the side effects of being it.”, Spencer chuckled a little.

“So melodramatic.”

High, she would have probably devoured him, but now she only smirked and rolled her eyes. By now a certain realness tried finding its way in both their voices.

“What was your reason for taking them then?”, she asked, leaning in his direction.

Spencer thought a second, honesty was earned and he wanted her to be honest with him. So he gave her a trust bonus, reviling a bit of his darkness.

“I wasn’t giving the chance of choosing to take them. I was kidnapped and my tormentor, at least one of his personalities, thought he would help me handling the pain.”

He could´ve sworn to see empathy in her eyes, but instead of showing it or whispering words of condolences, like so many others would do in this situation, she just smiled.

“And there I was, thinking you´re just a hypocrite.”, he shrugged. “Well…I am one.” “How?”, [y/n] asked, a little frown appearing on her forehead. “Because you were right. I think you are attractive and maybe my motive wasn’t all just about protecting you at the concert.”, he could feel himself blush.

“I´m sorry for acting out, after…you know.”

“It´s okay. Would you feel better, knowing that I really hated making the decision, to not sleep with you?”, she nodded.

“A little.” “Good. Cause it was. But it was the right thing to do.”, she smiled a little and began focusing on her hands again.

“You see, I get it now and I´m glad, at least one of us, has made a right decision tonight but…I don’t know how I´ll be to you, when I´m high again.”, her concerned voice made him take her hand. Being afraid of your own mind, no longer being able to control it, was something he was very familiar with. “Then don’t be. We could get you into rehab.”

[y/n] chuckled and took his hand with both of hers, caressing it with her thumbs. She seemed to be thinking. Making Spencer believe she may be taking his offer. But the longer she thought, the more obvious it became, that she was losing to something dark inside her head.

“Would be a waste of time.”, she whispered, her playfulness gone, as if reality just slapped her into the face.

“But if you continue like this, you´ll be dead soon.”, [y/n] gave him a gentle smile.

“You always say that, like I don’t plan on dying with twenty-seven.”

For a second he tried reading her, hoping she was joking, having made those suicidal jokes a little to often in the last days. When he didn’t like the answer, he prepared himself to hear it from her.

“Do you?”, she nodded. “I´m going to join ‘Club 27’ and then drift into oblivion. My songs and everything I did, only becoming an relic from the past.”

The way she said it, made it sound like she had already made peace with that decision. It frightened Spencer, making him think of how to make her re-think it.

“What about your friends?”

“There´s only the band…and I started pushing them away from me, a long time ago. I saw how it will end for me and decided not to have it hurt them, like it hurt me, when I found my mom.”, he shook his head. He refused to accept this as an answer.

“And what about yourself? You can’t just feel like dying is the only option.” “It´s not. But it´s the most relieving one.”

The calmness in her voice and body language showed him so much. What had driven her into that state? A state were death was seen as a relieve, because everything else hurt too much. Depression. She showed signs of it. Many people with addicted use it to cope with their mental problems. What had happened to her? His mind traveled back to the day before, to the only moments when she had let her façade slip.

To the silver bullet that would kill her.

“What happened to your baby?”, he asked her stern and she looked at him defeated.

“Oh, I see…I´ve been profiled. What do you think happened?”

“You lost it.”, she nodded, but he continued, carefully watching her body language. He wanted answers, but would stop when she would get too uncomfortable. “Probably because of your abusive father.”, she nodded again, seeming a little numb to his words. “Was he religious?”, the black-haired girl chuckled and answered him a little sarcastic.

“Depends on how religious you´d call a reverend. Why?”

“Religious trauma or trying to shock people. Your music, I mean.”

For a second [y/n] let go of his hand, making him rest in her lap. Spencer refused to pull it away, if she would start talking, he wanted her to know that he was still there. He had, by now, enough pieces of the puzzle, showing him a dark picture of her past. A reason, why she tried to be high so often.

Reality was a sharp knife and its cuts couldn’t hurt so bad, when you numb yourself.

“My father was always hitting my mom, but when she then took off, there was only me and him. He forced me into the mold of the perfect, religious daughter and when I wasn’t as obedient as he would´ve liked, he´d make me read the bible for hours and beat me senseless.”, she started gesturing to her stomach and chest area. “Of course only hitting me in places, nobody would see the bruises. When I was fifteen, I got caught trying to smoke for the first time, by a teacher. As they notified my father, he locked me into the dark broom closet for a week. Out of spite, I then started smoking regularly and met a boy through it, Daniel.”

Spencer watched [y/n]´s face light up for a second. She looked like JJ or Rossi, when they were talking about Will and Krystall. Like he probably did, when he was thinking about Maeve.

“He went to the same school as I and his abusive parents were addicts, like my mom had been. We kinda bonded over that and would sneak out at night, spending hours together, talking about the stupidest things. Thinking we were so deep and intellectual. He, at one point, started stealing his parents weed, so we could get high together. Made getting beaten easier. The time with Daniel was the first and last time I ever felt those butterflies. You know? This childish feeling of love?”

She smiled at him as he nodded, remembering those butterflies too, but then the smile darkened and she took Spencer’s hand again. As if to try and hold onto him, shielding herself from the dark memories creeping up.

“I got pregnant with sixteen. A shame. I managed to hide it for a few weeks and Daniel and I came up with the childish idea of running away together. We thought, we could just get jobs somewhere else, buy a home and become a family…Like foolish kids.”, her self-degrading laugh broke Spencer’s heart, as she tried swallowing her tears.

“And it didn’t work.”, he whispered and she only laughed, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Of course it didn’t. A woman from church had overheard us talking and the rumor of me being pregnant was already out there, since I threw up so often at school. So she thought she would help me, if she told my father.”, Spencer squeezed her hand a little. “You wanna know what he did?”, he shook his head.

“What?”

“He waited for us to meet at night. As I crawled out of the window, he stormed outside with his shotgun and confronted us. After I admitted to being pregnant he hit me, making Daniel step between us and start fighting with my dad to protect me and the baby…and my dad- he-…he then just shot him. In-…In cold blood, just pulled the fucking trigger.”, [y/n] voice was filled with disbelieve. Like she still wasn’t able to believe what she had seen.

“My father then grabbed me by the hair and tried getting me to go back into the house. I, obviously shocked about him just shooting my boyfriend, refused to and so he started beating and kicking me, till I stopped fighting back…Needless to say, I lost the baby after that.”

As a few tear ran down her face, she let go of Spencer´s hand and wiped them away. Letting a cynical laugh follow.

“That’s not even the best part of the story. Nothing happened.”, Spencer looked at her frowning.

“What do you mean with ‘Noting happened’. He shoot a teenager. Weren’t there any repercussions?”, she shook her head.

“No. Because he told the police, that he came outside to me screaming, because Daniel was beating me. Angry at me, for being pregnant. He stated that he just did what he had to do, to protect me.”, he shook his head in disbelieve.

“Weren’t you questioned? Didn’t you tell them what really happened?”

“I would try telling, but nobody believed it. Because the reverend, a pillar of our community, would never do such thing. They thought I was just lashing out and framing my father, because I was high and angry at him for shooting my boyfriend...Daniel´s parents didn’t even care, too high to get what had happened. After that, I wasn’t allowed to go to school anymore, in fact, I wasn’t allowed to do anything anymore. My father taught me at home and every Sunday I was allowed to go to church and pray to have my sins being forgiven.”

Spencer nodded at the amount of information she had just given him.

He felt bad for her, started to understand her, started to hate her father and the cruel injustice she, Daniel and the baby had suffered.

Why had they only once, tried to get her into therapy?

The amount of suffered trauma had to end in a situation like this, left untreated.

It was eating her alive, suffocating her, and everybody who saw it, just slapped the ‘She´s gonna be okay’-Band-Aid on this gashing wound, moving on with their own life´s, while she was losing the battle inside her head. He got up and sat on the bed next to her, she scooted a little, giving him some room to lean back too. As he lifted an arm, [y/n] rested her head on his chest.

“Then how did you get…viral…?”, he looked at him and the confused spoken word, smiling.

“You know about that?”

“Luke.”, he answered and she nodded. “I wasn’t allowed to have a phone, but I was allowed to use our computer once a week for an hour. I would record myself singing and playing guitar on our shitty webcam and started uploading it, not thinking anybody would ever see it. With eighteen I got in contact with this guy, he said he was in the midst of establishing his own record label and he would love to pay my flight to LA, taking me under contract. I accepted and just ran as fast as I could, before my father could get me.”

[y/n] again laughed cynical. Seemingly a coping mechanism of hers, to play down the pain and severity of things and situations.

“When I arrived, he then offered me to stay with him, if I´d be…you know…nice to him. He earned a shit ton of money with my music, while I got nothing…But everything was better than going back home again.”, she sat up a little, so she could look at Spencer, again with that sparkle in her eyes.

“At one point, when I didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, I had to work at a pizza restaurant to afford rent. There I met Leroy, Tom and Hank at the Open-Mic-Night. I told them a little about what was going on and Hank sued that guys ass. He didn’t want anything in return…just happy to help me. If you think Hank is scary now, you would have shit yourself, seeing him in court!”

Both chuckled. Spencer could, thankfully, only imagine how terrifying the fifty year old biker could get.

“After winning the case I asked them if they were interested in becoming a band and we made some demo tracks with the money I had gotten. The label took us under contract and introduced us to Philip, who became our manager.”

“But you weren’t into anything but marijuana. How did we end up here?”, she sighed.

“The label has a lot of expectations surrounding me. One of them was for me, to go out and be publicly seen with their other artists, for the image. They were taking a lot of stuff and I always said no, sticking to weed. But somewhere along the line, I wanted to know how it felt. If my mom was right, for choosing it above me. And I think I get it now. Everything I told you before? My dad, my baby, Daniel? They´re gone. I´m able to standup for myself and not letting me being pushed into something I don’t want, like when that creep wanted me to whore myself out to him, just so I´d have a roof over my head. Life is just easier that way and thankfully shorter too.”, Spencer pulled her closer.

“I like you like that.”, he almost whispered. “Depressed?”, [y/n] snickered and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Real.”

“Only fair. I´ve been a real bitch to you, the whole time.”, he shook his head again. “Not that bad.”, she hit his chest gently, while giggling. “Oh, please. I can handle it. Come on.”, he sighed playfully, admitting the truth. “Okay, yeah. You´ve been a bitch.”

They laid there for a while, [y/n] seemingly thinking, before she talked again.

“You´re gonna pass on babysitting duty for me now, I guess?”, she asked hesitant, making him chuckle.

“Nope. I´m gonna stay.”, [y/n] sat up and looked at him, like he had completely lost his mind.

“Why in the world, are you doing that to yourself?”, Spencer shrugged. “Savior complex.” “I´m not worth it.”, he shrugged again. “I know. But the sober girl inside you is. You know? The one that knows my name, speaks French with me while playing Mozart and puts a blanket over me when I fall asleep while reading.”

Then she asked him something that hit too close to home. Revealing a reality he liked to ignore.

“You can’t save everybody. You´re aware of that, right?”, he nodded as she laid back into bed, her head resting against his chest again. “But I can try.”, Spencer whispered against her ear.

“Would you mind just watching TV with me? Withdrawal headache´s a bitch.”

Spencer grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. After many attempts of finding something interesting, [y/n] stopped him from switching the channels. They had come across an 80´s music special. Something with the name ‘Heartbeat’ by Don Johnson had just started playing. Although [y/n] didn’t move a lot, Spencer could tell she was excited. Moving her lips along the lyrics.

“I don't care what you say

You can give it away

Your money don't mean much to me.

I've been out on my own

Gonna got it alone now

'Cause that's the way it's got to be.

Ev'rybody tells me how I can beat the odds for now.

Well I've been standing by the fire

But I just can't feel the heat.”

“That’s a great song.”, Spencer shrugged, again not feeling too much connection to the music. But it did sound nice. At his shrugging she hit him a little and put on a badly played face of disbelieve and shock. “Show some respect for the classics!”, he laughed at her words. “Respect for the classics? You called Beethoven a deaf bitch.”, now [y/n] shrugged. “Touché.”, she giggled, laying her hand on her head as if to ease the pain.

“Looking at me

It's easy to see

You think you know just how I feel.

If you do to me wrong and it won't take me long

Before my restless heart will heal.

I'm looking for a love

Love like mine”

“That was good music back then.”, she whispered against his chest. “Heart break, real emotions…love that stuff.”

“Why don’t you play more of it then?”, Spencer asked, Luke in his mind telling him about their music just no longer trying to hit the feelings. [y/n] giggled a little. “I´m guessing…Luke told you?”, he nodded and she let out a sigh. “Remember when I told you about the label having expectations? Every song I make has to go through them first, before being released. At one point, I had nine songs, completely done and they only greenlit one of them. Told me the others ‘weren´t my style’, ‘not exactly my genre’ or ‘wouldn’t speak to my audience enough’. So I just stopped looking for the deeper emotions. Still love the music I make, but the feeling´s dead. My lyrics helped me coping at the beginning, but the restrictions the label set me, ended that.” “Why don’t you just write those songs again? It doesn’t matter if anybody hears them.”, he suggested to her chuckling in response.

“They tell me it's so hard to find

But I can feel it in the rhythm of the heartbeat in the street.

Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat”

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound, mon amour?”, Spencer looked at her for a second, flustered by the realness she let him see.

“Yes. For me it would.”, he told her, making her giggled. “I probably lost my ability for stronger emotions anyway. But thanks, Spencer.”

His heart skipped a beat as she said his name.

“Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat

Beating like mine.”

As the door opened Spencer quickly jumped up, Emily looking at him with a lifted eyebrow.

“Uhmm…Hello?”, she asked, more meant as a ‘What´s going on?’. Philip walked in right after her, not having seen the both of them more or less cuddling in the hospital bed.

“Oh no, it´s raining again.”, he sighed as he closed the window and stepped aside for the nurse, who took out the IV from [y/n]´s arm. “Okay. I got you released from hospital, [y/n]. I have the papers and ta-da.”, he handed her a white little paper bag. “Your pain medication and antibiotics for the arm.”

“Thanks.”, she answered and passed it over to Spencer. “Ca-Can you…so I take them correctly?”, he looked at her confused.

“You sure?”, she nodded and Spencer smiled at her. Baby steps. “Of course.”

“I thought Dr. Reid would stop his bodyguard duty, now that you´re going to stay with me?”, [y/n] shrugged.

“I- I don’t know.” “You know, I can protect you too.”, Philip insured her. “Yeah…but I would feel safer with my guard dog around.”, she looked at the tall man. “Only if you´d be okay with that, Spencer.”

“More than okay.”, Spencer smiled at her, making her smile back.

“O-Okay, that´s fine. That´s gonna be fine. Dr. Reid can sleep in my office. Now get dressed, so we can pack your stuff at home.”

Philip handed [y/n] her black duffle bag, Spencer had put on the floor next to her bed. She opened it and pulling out some jeans and a black sweater. When she tried to get up she was a shaky on her legs, but managed to go to the bathroom. Spencer stayed close to her, being able to catch her in case she´d fall. When she closed the door behind her, he looked at Philip and Emily.

“How many paparazzies are out there?”, he asked and Emily held her breath, shortly thinking.

“Too many. Just checked before coming in. You guys better think of a plan, if you don’t want [y/n] to be seen by them and become five o'clock news.”, both men nodded and then looked at each other.

“Okay…so, Philip? Where do you park?”, Spencer asked. “Outside, visitors.”, he nodded and looked to his friend.

“Me too. Emily, you?”

“Car park.”, she answered and Spencer handed her his key.

“Okay. We trade. I take [y/n] home in Emily´s SUV. Emily takes [y/n]´s car and you, Philip, you just drive to the mansion. Maybe we can make them think she´s still in medical care, that way.”, all of them nodded to each other, not really knowing what more there was to tell. Not knowing if the plan would even work.

*****

When [y/n] looked in the mirror, in the tiny bathroom of her hospital room, after washing her face, she felt okay. Horrible, but okay.

Feeling kind of stupid, having given Spencer her medication. It had felt right. But she didn’t know why. Did she want to make him happy? Well, he certainly was. But honestly? Nobody just stops being addicted for one person. Having your addiction tendencies being bound and under control solely for another person than yourself probably never works in the long term.

She knew she would have to stop for herself and that just wasn’t worth it.

She just wasn’t worth it.

Spencer would leave again, he was just another person in her life that would vanish, never to be heard from again. Her life would move on, just like it did now and that was it. It was okay like that. There wasn’t much to be expected anymore and she had made her peace with it. Having lost the will to try years ago.

Somehow she had decided however, to enjoy the few moments she would still have with this man. A man she barely knew, but yet, felt so interest in. A man that either lived his best boomer life or just simply lived in a cave without Wi-Fi, giving his lack of knowledge by simple words like iconic and viral.

Maybe it was his lack of interest in her Rockstar persona, that intrigued her. She had heard him and Philip outside of her room. Spencer had not given a single fuck, that her voice could´ve been ruined by having her stomach pumped, as long as she didn’t die. That was nice. Being more than an expensive voice. Being counted as a human.

She wanted to know more about him, had given him her silver bullet, as a sign of trust. Now she wanted his or however much he was willing to give. Being high would ruin it, being high would maybe have her forget something. [y/n] knew she would still need to take the bare minimum of her drugs, so the withdrawal wouldn’t kill her, but for now she would like to be semi-clean. The headache and the freezing being acceptable.

She had put on her fresh clothes, liking that they didn’t smell like cigarettes, wondering why she even smoked, when everything just started to reek and ruin the nice smell of her lavender perfume. Was it still out of spite, because her father didn’t like it?

Maybe she would quit…on the other hand…maybe just reduce them a little. For now, she didn’t have any, anyways. She would probably need some chewing gum.

When she walked out of the bathroom Spencer smiled at her, stepping closer and his hands cupping her face.

“Hey. You okay? You´re a little pale.”, she quickly nodded, her heart beating as fast as it always did shortly before a concert.

“Yeah, just not wearing any makeup, so…”, he shook his head, thumb stroking her cheek.

“Uh-uh. You weren’t pale like that before. You feeling sick?”, actually yes, she did.

“A little.”

“We´re gonna get you something to eat later and then you should take a nap. Philip is going to drive in his car and we´ll meet him at your house. Emily already left.”, [y/n] nodded, quickly stepping away from Spencer. She hadn’t even noticed Philip still being there, while he smiled at them.

“I´m gonna leave now and you guys just go to the garage and wait a few minutes. When something happens you call me, okay [y/n]?”, she nodded, Spencer taking her duffle bag as Philip hugged her and then left.

She and Spencer went to the car park, her having the hood from her sweater pulled into her face, hoping nobody would recognize her. The last thing she wanted was a media scandal, so shortly after the her teen-pregnancy was brought to light. People talking about the ‘out of control’-Rockstar almost dying due to an overdose. Not that they were completely wrong, but still. She hated when strangers acted like they knew her, only because they read one of those crappy articles.

When they got into the car Spencer turned on the seat heating, without saying a word, only smiling at her. Why was he so nice? Was it his savior complex or did he just have a great personality?

Driving to her mansion in silence, they were met with an array of paparazzies in front of it. Spencer parked across the street. [y/n] quickly fixed her hair, should they notice her and start making photos.

“Tinted windows, they don’t see you.”, he told her, making her relax.

For a second she thought about how much she hated this. The flashes of the cameras pointed into her face, only inches away from it. Asking her inappropriate question, because fame cancelled out the right of privacy. They were always waiting for her to do something, to be put on a blast for.

Maybe she could just, a little longer, be a no one. Like she seemed to be, alone with Spencer.

With Philip, she never had even five minutes to herself. Yes he was nice, but he was so in-your-face sometimes. Smothering her with care.

“Spencer?” “Hm?”, he turned to her. “Would it be okay, to just go undercover?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows. “Undercover?”, her cheeks flushed a little.

“Yeah…get a hotel room and some junk food maybe…” “What about Philip?”

“I´ll text him…I- I´d just like to be alone.”, he nodded at her words, already starting the car again. “Oh, sure. I get that.” “Alone with you.”, was that sentence too bold? “I know. Already thought so.”, he put a hand on her thigh, gently squeezing it. She smiled at this gentle gesture. “Any hotel okay?”, he asked her, as she laid her hands on his, wanting to make sure it stayed there. “Sure. But you´ll need to get the room. I tend to attract attention.” “Really?”, he asked in a playful voice, as he pulled into the main street. “Yeah, apparently I look like this one singer from a rock band.”, she answered, giggling, even though it killed her head. “Huh, weird. Wouldn’t have noticed.”, he almost whispered, seeming to have noticed it.

“Maybe we should get me some nicotine patches too.”, she smiled, making him look at her surprised.

“Stopped smoking?” “Yeah, thought I´d try it. Maybe you can smell my perfume better like that. Lavender.”, Spencer chuckled. “Sexy. Kissing a smoker only seems good in the movies.” “You know movies?”, she said, playfully mocking him. “Russian and black-and-white ones.”

“You´re a little nerd, huh?

“Hope that’s not a deal breaker?”, she looked at his little worried, almost insecure look.

Yes, the junkie who just ruined his night, by having a mental breakdown, would think a nice, smart guy that liked watching ‘Dr. Who’ was a dealbreaker.

“It´s actually kinda cute.”, he let out an adorable giggle and for a second she could feel her heart skip a beat.

*****

Spencer had gotten them a hotel room in a small hotel with individual, private entrances. Definitely not as classy as [y/n] was used to, but private enough, not to be seen. Before, he had bought her nicotine patches and gum and they had gotten some pizzas.

Now her arm was plasters with some of the patches and they sat on the bed, eating pizza and watching ‘10 things I hate about you’, making him see just how quirky [y/n] could be. Singing along to every song, telling him how much she loved watching it, secretly at a friend’s home, as a teen; giggling like crazy when something funny happened and gushing over things she thought to be romantic. Spencer had given her her medication and the withdrawal, at least in the moment, seemed to be manageable.

After the movie she had insisted on him picking something, making him extremely nervous. He didn’t think that any of his picks would have her enjoy the next two hours, but she didn’t let him say no. So he put in an old black and white movie called ‘La Dolce Vita’, about a week in the life of a philandering tabloid journalist living in Rome. He laid down in bed and signaled [y/n] to come closer. She had quickly cuddled up beside him, seemingly touch starved by the way she held him close. A very familiar feeling for Spencer.

After he had begun stroking her hair, she had fallen asleep faster, then he had fallen for her.

Seeming to like every side of her, every part, no matter how damaged or ugly. Spencer had pulled the sleeping girl a little closer, gently kissing the top of her head and smiling to himself. What he had smelled two days ago, had been lavender. He drifted of as well, only waking up half an hour later, when the credits woke him.

Turning the TV off, before laying close to [y/n] again, now spooning up behind her, face buried in the crook of her neck, arms wrapped tightly around her.

To be continued...

Give me your feedback [also anonymous!]

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #reader insert #spencer x reader #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x fem!reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x y/n #spencer x y/n #rainincaliforniaff

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 2

Wordcount: 10,129

A/N: I thought this part 2 would total up to 10k words, but when it hit 10k, I realised that I was only about 65 percent done. So based on the responses I got from tumblr, I decided to publish this first and then conclude the story later on!

TW: mentions of r*pe, mentions of torture, mentions of drugging someone (??) , mental breakdowns, vulnerability, descriptions of anxiety

Also, HERE’S MY FAV MEMES!! I’m so sorry that I can’t tag respective meme creators, because I saved them on my phone and some of them I forgot to include your usernames!! I’M SO SORRY!!! And honest to god is wear there were more but i must have lost them im so sorry im so incompetent lmao

memeesss

You glanced at your phone.

It had already been a week in Hawaii with your friends, and Jason still hadn’t texted you.

Well, you should have expected it, really. Jason was a traumatised, mentally ill man who had been locked away for two years.

Of course he wouldn’t text you first.

You had contemplated texting him over the past few days, typing in an array of messages ranging from a simple “hey” to a whole paragraph, and deleting all of it without hitting send. Did he even switch the phone on? Was he surfing the internet? Or was the phone still there on the shelf where you had left it.

It was driving you crazy.

“Do you have a boyfriend we don’t know about?” a voice called.

You looked up and squinted at the man who was standing up, looking down at you. You were sitting on the beach, a little further away from the ocean where your friends were.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as Alex plopped down next to you.

“You’ve been fidgety the whole time,” he pointed out, combing back his dark shoulder length hair with his fingers, getting sand in them. “We’re on a private beach, and you’ve been fussing over your phone. Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” you grumbled truthfully.

“The girls have been gossiping,” he gestured to the two other girls playing in the water. Your closest friends. It was four of you in that inseparable group.

“Of course they have,” you groaned, “Tell them to SAY IT TO MY FACE, COWARDS!”

You shouted at them, earning you grins and middle fingers from the distance.

“They’re saying you’re in love with someone,” he chuckled, “But they always say stupid shit like that without any evidence. But sometimes, a girl’s intuition is just right, ya know?”

“Stop beating around the bush, Alex,” you rolled your eyes at him despite knowing he couldn’t see past your sunglasses. “No, I’m not in love. I’m just waiting for a text that might never come.”

“Why don’t you text him first?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that!” you flailed your arms, “He’s… complicated. I can’t just text him anything.”

“Girl, unless he’s Mr. Nottingham, or related to you, then it really isn’t that complicated,” he joked.

“Ugh,” you groaned again, falling back onto the cloth you spread out. “Fine. I’ll text him.”

“Atta girl,” Alex grinned, “I’m gonna head back in the water. Join us after. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved.

Opening the text window for what had to be the thirtieth time, you finally decided to text him.

You: Miss me yet?

Staring intently at the small ‘sent’ below your message bubble, you waited for it to turn to ‘delivered’.

“Yes!” you hissed. It meant that Jason had indeed switched on the phone.

But after twenty minutes you realised that it didn’t matter if Jason switched on the phone if he didn’t want to talk to you. Cursing to yourself, you decided to join your friends in the water, hoping it’ll distract you from checking your phone every five minutes for a text message that might never come.

After an hour of actually spending time with your friends, all four of you returned to the villa, your mood elevated. Checking your phone, you could have jumped for joy when you saw not one, but four consecutive texts in a row.

Jason: Duck off. Jason: What the duck Jason: WHY CANT I SAY DUCK Jason: I DUCKING HATE THIS

You couldn’t let out a string of giggles.

“Oooh, lover boy texted you back, huh?” Alex peeked over your shoulder. “Gimme, I wanna mess with him.”

He snatched your phone from your hands, surprisingly swift and smooth for a civilian, raising it way above his head so you couldn’t reach it and opened the camera.

“Alex-!”

He threw his other arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his bare chest, crushing you before you could tackle him down. He snapped a picture and sent it.

You froze in horror.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I was just messing around,” he gave your phone back to you.

“You don’t- you don’t understand, you fucking asshole!” you screamed.

“I- I’m sorry,” Alex stuttered, surprised by your reaction. “I was just-”

“Fuck off!” you snapped.

Panicking, you saw the little notification below the picture turning from Received to Read.

No. No, no, no, no.

This was bad.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason by sending him photos of your activities, thinking that he might react badly to the sudden surplus of familiarity and sense of being close to someone. Now you were worried that he might start to push you away in fear, reverting back to how he was before, and months of progress would have been all for nothing.

He would probably start swearing at you, or worse- switch off the phone and reject any form of communication completely. You hurriedly texted a reply.

You: I’m so sorry! I didn’t send that, my friend was just messing around.

Expecting the worst, you braced yourself for the inevitable. Instead, he sent you:

Jason: Who the hell is that guy?? Jason: Why are you in your underwear??

Your mouth hung open as you stared in shock at the screen. Because you took so long to recover from the shock, he sent you another message.

Jason: ???

Snapping out of it, you texted back.

You: That’s just my friend. Sorry about that! And I’m not in my underwear, it’s a bikini! I’m in Hawaii.

You waited for him to reply, but ten minutes of you sitting anxiously on the turquoise sofa in the middle of the villa listening to the waves of the beach outside from the open doors passed by, and he still hadn’t.

Perhaps he’s busy- wait. There’s no way Jason would be busy. You tried to coax him into a conversation.

You: You can turn off your autocorrect if you want to swear without hassle. Go to your Keyboard settings.

You plopped your phone on the empty seat next to you and dried your hair.

“Ugh, come on!” complained Natalie, fully clothed and washed, walking towards the open concept kitchen from her room. “You’re getting sand everywhere!”

“Woops, my bad,” you grinned.

“There’s a shower outside on the porch for a reason you know,” she flipped her blond beach waves at you, looking through the fridge.

Alex stood quietly at the kitchen island, now scared to say anything.

You rolled your eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Okay, I promise!” he grinned.

Ding.

Jason: fuck. fuck. fucking fuck. Jason: found it. You: Proud of you, man.

You went to your room and showered, then dried off and put on fresh clothes while waiting for Jason to reply.

Of course, he never did.

Groaning, you had to remind yourself that he was not used to human interaction, and texting would come unnaturally to him. Which meant that you had to be the one to keep the conversation going.

You: Do anything interesting since I left?

You saw him typing almost immediately this time.

Jason: no.

Of course not.

You: Have you been eating properly? Jason: yeah.

God, it was so difficult. You were in the middle of typing something when he replied again.

Jason: yoire not my mom Jason: yoire Jason: YOIRE Jason: FUCK WHY CANR I TYPE

You felt guilty for laughing, but you did anyway.

You: Now that you switched off autocorrect, it won’t correct your typos and misspells anymore. Jason: i fucking knw that. Ive been gone for two yeard not twenty. You: Then why do you sound like a grandpa? Jason: BECAISE YOU GAVE ME A FUCKINF IPHONE!! I USED AN ANDROID!!

Now you were really laughing out loud, so you sent him a GIF of a woman rolling her eyes.

Jason: wtf you can send gifs throug text now?? You: Welcome to 2020, my dude. Jason: im not your fucking dude

Typing a reply, Jason interrupted you once again.

Jason: teach me how to do that

Smiling widely, you found that you couldn’t wait for the next week to pass by so you could go back and see him.

***

“How’s Jason?” you asked the minute you reached the Cave computers, panting from the run down.

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Dick chuckled, spinning towards you on the wheeled chair.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Bruce and Dick were in front of the computers, discussing a case that had connections to Bludhaven Police Department.

Gone for two weeks, you had a lot to catch up on.

“According to Alfred, he’s doing well,” Bruce answered, “Even started to ask for seconds last week. Now Alfred has been making portions for two.”

“He asked? For seconds?” you gasped. “How?”

“He left a note on the tray two days after you left. He’s been making meal requests, too. Texts Alfred in the morning to let him know.”

“Texted?!”

“Alfred slipped his number on the tray in case Jason wanted anything specific.”

“I slipped mine as well, but he hasn’t texted me yet,” Dick pouted.

“When did he start texting?” you ignored Dick.

“Last Sunday.”

So the same day you started texting him, then.

“He hasn’t texted me,” Dick sighed, looking dejected like a kid who was told Disneyland blew up.

“He’ll come around, Dick,” you offered him a smile, “I mean- he’s already texting Alfred!”

“Yeah,” he lamented.

“Okaaay, nice talk. I’m gonna go see him now, bye.”

You ran to the box, but stopped right before you opened the internal door. After checking your hair with your phone camera, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach.

Ugh, you were so fucked.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Jason’s muffled grunt answered you.

Pushing it open, your eyes immediately went to the bed only to find that he wasn’t lounging around reading a book like you expected. Instead, your mouth dropped open when you saw him on the floor, doing push ups.

Shirtless.

Jason had changed drastically during the two weeks you were gone. You noticed that he had definitely gained weight, as well as muscle mass.

“Uh, wh-what are you..?”

He stood up, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

His muscles were much more prominent and defined now, and he looked like he was going to achieve Dick’s physique if he kept it up for another month or two.

“Welcome back,” he simply said before taking gulps from a water bottle you definitely had not seen before.

“Thanks,” you walked over and sat on his bed, “I’m glad to see that you decided to start taking care of yourself again.”

“What, this? This isn’t for me.”

“Huh?” you cocked your head in curiosity.

“I… I lost a lot of muscle mass. My body- it isn’t how it used to be,” he frowned, “And I can’t have you lusting over it when it’s not at its peak.”

“What- what do you-?” you stammered, suddenly getting hot.

Jason merely smirked and then continued his push ups.

You watched as his developing muscles rippled, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glisten in the light. It was amazing how he had progressed so much in such a short period of time. You guessed that he must have just been occupying his days by working out.

No wonder he’s been asking for seconds.

“Enjoying the view?” Jason breathed, pausing with his arms straightened, his head angled upwards towards you.

“No, shut up,” you looked away.

“Here, be useful,” he started, “Sit on my back.”

“What?”

“I’ve gotten used to my own body weight, I need extra resistance,” he elaborated, “Come on, sit on my back.”

“But it’s all sweaty,” you whined, pretending to protest. Definitely pretending- for the sake of your own dignity.

You got up and went over towards him anyway.

Carefully, awkwardly, you sat on his back as you would a park bench. You rested your palms flat against his sticky skin to stabilise yourself. Suddenly, he dipped down without warning, earning a soft squeal from you.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” he strained, but continued to do the push ups. He was shakier, struggling with the weight, and after twenty-five, he paused. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

But before you had the chance to get off him, he suddenly stood up, throwing you off his back to have you fall on the floor on your ass.

“Jason, you assho-” you clapped your hand over your mouth, realising what you had just said.

Oh, no. Oh, fuck.

He stood towering over you, his jaw clenching as he stared you down with his cold, blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot! It was a reflex and-”

“Whatever. I don’t care anymore,” he rolled his eyes, reaching for his bottle.

You blinked. Then scrambled to your feet.

“You don’t care anymore?” you repeated slowly.

“I don’t care if you call me that,” he huffed.

That made your heart swell and melt at the same time.

“I got used to your voice,” he mumbled, expression changing as he looked away. He frowned, as if he was angrily staring at a distant object.

You had just guessed that he didn’t like to be called his name because of a sense of familiarity, but now you were thinking that there was much more to that than what you had originally thought.

“So, I can call you… Jason?” you tested.

“Yeah, call me whatever you want,” he sat on his bed, looking up at you.

You smiled, thankful that you had finally crossed that bridge. “You know, I could get some workout stuff for you? Weights, bands, that bar thing that you can put at your door frame for pull ups…”

“You’d like to see that, huh?” he smirked.

“You flatter yourself too much,” you scoffed.

“How was Hawaii?” he changed the subject all of a sudden.

“It was fun. Beach was great, locals were great, loved the vibe- what are you doing?”

Jason had stood back up and started to walk closer and closer to you, getting all up in your space like a predator finally cornering its prey. You kept on taking steps back until your ass hit the edge of the desk.

Nowhere else to run, your heart started hammering. He leaned in, his hands resting on the desk on either side of your body, trapping you against the table and himself. You looked up and gulped. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

“Are you afraid of me?” he muttered lowly.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” you whispered.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Well, I’m not afraid of you,” you stated.

“Oh really?” he raised an eyebrow. Then, you felt his hand grip your wrist tightly, pressing down on your skin with his fingers. “Your pulse is very fast for someone who’s not afraid of me.”

“It’s because you’re all up in my space!” you argued.

“Didn’t look like you mind when your friend,” he snarled the word, “was all up in your space.”

“My friend? What- oh,” you widen your eyes in realisation, “You mean Alex.”

“Is that his name?”

“Alex is just a friend, nothing more. He’s just someone I’m close to,” you reassured him.

Which then made you think about why you were reassuring him.

“Oh, you were definitely close to him,” Jason growled.

“Wait- are you… jealous?” a smile creeped your lips.

He scowled at you for a few moments, and you could see the little tics in his expression that said he was annoyed. The flared nostrils, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching, the very slight twitches at the corner of his left eye.

“No,” he finally said, taking a step back from you. “I’m going to shower. Since you couldn’t stop staring at me, the invitation is still open for you to join.”

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I prefer it when you were broody instead of this. Please go back to your depressive mental state,” you sarcastically replied.

Jason barked out an actual laugh. Though his laugh was odd, like someone who’s only now discovering that humans were indeed capable of laughter, you found comfort in it. It was no longer hysterical and devoid of humor. He was getting better, learning to embrace a connection with someone, and it made you extremely happy.

“Maybe I should,” he answered with a cheeky glint in his eye, “Then that way you can give me more sponge baths.”

He left you alone in his room, flushed and at a loss for words.

***

“I find it very odd that people would yell ‘Batman!’ when they realise you’re there,” you rambled while climbing out of the Batmobile.

You were absolutely drenched from the downpour that had been going on all night. It was 4 am on a friday night and you had just returned from patrol.

Bruce took off his cowl immediately, revealing tired eyes despite the relatively slow night.

“It’s like they’re saying ‘Look at me! I’m here! Please knock me out or hang me upside down from the-’ Bruce?”

Bruce had stiffen, staring at something behind you. You turned around and was shocked to see Jason in the mid-distance, sitting on the ground outside the black box that was his room, leaning against the cool metal.

He himself was staring intently at Bruce, not even sparing you a glance.

You looked back and forth between the two men, sensing a high tension silent conversation.

Then, Bruce’s eyes relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly in that hardly-there-Bruce-smile.

He gave Jason one stiff nod of understanding, then walked away to the computers at the other end of the cave, leaving you alone with his son.

Jason relaxed as you walked over to him, wringing your hair to squeeze out all the excess water.

“Aw, you waited up for me,” you teased, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips, grinning away.

“Fuck off,” he snorted, “I was bored.”

You noticed him clenching his jaw as he looked at you from top to bottom, eyes lingering longer on the ‘R’ on your left breast.

Ah, it was his first time seeing you in your uniform.

His uniform.

Suddenly, you felt like an imposter in those colors and had the strong urge to rip the uniform off.

You wanted to say something, but Jason beat you to it.

“There were times in that shit hole where I wanted to burn that uniform off my skin,” he grit, “Kept on thinking to myself. I wish I never became Robin. I wish I never met Bruce Wayne.”

Your heart shattered at his confession. It was extremely rare for him to bring up anything related to his two year torture, and the previous times were never in such detail.

Realising you needed to say something, you opened your mouth. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Yes, sometimes you knew that he just wanted you to listen.

You nodded silently and went to sit next to him on the floor.

“It… suits you,” he forced out.

“Hmm?”

“The uniform. It suits you. More than it ever suited me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think your ass would look quite nice in green,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He chuckled deeply, nudging you back even harder- hard enough for you to lose your balance and topple sideways, earning another breathy laugh from Jason.

***

Another month passed by, and you found yourself falling deeply for Jason- much to your dismay. You knew Jason wasn’t ready for any kind of intense emotions, and that it would take a very long time before he was.

So you swallowed your emotions down, stifling them and hoping it would go away.

The two of you had developed a pleasant friendship, often bickering and joking around, with Jason teasing you about your obvious physical attraction to him.

He also now occasionally waited outside his cube for you to come back after patrol, never really venturing too far from it, and still avoiding contact with both Bruce and Dick. Only you and Alfred had the privilege to speak to him.

Even then, sometimes you would visit his room but only getting a “I’m not feeling it today. Please leave.”

Understandingly, you would nod silently and leave him alone. You knew he still had his bad days, sometimes not eating his meals.

But mostly, he was getting better, both mentally and physically.

With nothing much to do the whole day, Jason was now obsessed with working out and bulking up. He now had a few simple equipment in his room- mostly weights.

You figured that it was a coping mechanism for him, a healthy outlet to channel all his rage and negative emotions into.

But come on. He was getting even hotter and it was making it extremely difficult for you to stop yourself from checking him out, fantasizing about him when he wasn’t around. Still, you couldn’t complain. Even though he hadn’t reached Dick’s size yet, he was very near to it, and his naturally bigger body frame and build made up for the still developing muscles.

Hell, he was now sporting a six pack.

But you knew that he was still not as well as you hoped he would be. The bloodshot eyes he had was proof that he doesn’t sleep well- and you soon found out why.

It was a little past midnight on your night off from patrol, and you were using your break in the best way you could think of- by sleeping. Something woke you up that night.

A soft knock on your door.

You frowned, eyes still closed, wondering who it was.

Bruce would usually knock twice. Strong, clear, and with purpose. Dick would start pounding rapidly on your door, annoying you intentionally. Alfred would give three soft knocks followed by a ‘Miss?’

Your eyes flew open. There was only one other person in the manor.

Throwing your covers aside, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door to open it.

Jason stood outside your door in the dim lights of the hallway, frowning and running his fingers nervously through his messy dark hair. He was wearing a t-shirt with boxers, standing awkwardly.

“Jason?” you hated how your voice sounded so sleepy. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay? Would you like to come in?”

He nodded silently, and you made way for him to enter before closing the door behind you.

“Sit on the bed,” you told him while jumping back into yours, sitting up cross legged.

The bed dipped when he sat on it, copying your motion and crossed his legs.

You waited for him to say something, your eyes straining to catch his in the dark. But he just remained silent, staring into space and avoiding your eyes.

“How did you know this was my room?” you asked, starting with a light topic.

“Only one that was locked. I already know where everyone else sleeps,” he explained.

“That’s right,” you realised, “I tend to forget that you’re probably even more familiar with the manor than I am.”

“Did you know there’s an old dumbwaiter in Bruce’s room?” you saw him smirk from the shadows that was casted on his face, “I used to hide in there, waiting to catch him off guard.”

“What? Why?”

“Dick and I, we had a bet,” he recalled the memory, “Whoever gets to surprise Bruce first would owe the other a special favor. Only rule was that we had to have it on video as proof.”

You appreciated that moment, the first time he ever spoke about both Dick and Bruce as a fond memory.

“I won, by the way,” he continued, “But- I forgot to press record on my phone.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned for him.

“Yeah, and Dick refused to believe me,” he chuckled, “That old man didn’t want to admit it either. But I swear- the look on his face when I jumped out while he and some model were going at it- priceless.”

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst into a fit of laughter, tears filling your eyes.

“You- you- you jumped out on him while he was having sex?!” you squealed.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I didn’t even care that it sort of scarred me, because I managed to catch Batman off guard.”

The both of you laughed, his deep voice mingling with your own on that quiet night.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jason,” you smiled warmly at him.

But then, his smile fell.

“I hate my name now.”

“I’m sorry,” you began, “You said it was okay to call you that, so I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he started running his fingers through his hair again, “It’s just- I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything,” you reassured, “It won’t leave this room. I promise.”

He looked at you, worry in his eyes. “Okay. Fine. Yeah.”

You waited for him to begin.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been having nightmares. Almost every night. It’s always the same one.”

“You want to tell me about it?” you prompted him after waiting for him to continue.

“I hate my name because he said it a lot. Joker,” he scowled, “After repeatedly burning my skin for my name, it’s like that’s all he said. In that annoying, high pitched, sing-song voice of his. Jason, Jason, Jason. It made me hate my name. It made me hate hearing it.”

“I- I didn’t know how much time passed when I was in there,” he continued, “But, fuck. It was- it was hell. And the worst part was that I kept on waiting for Bruce. Waiting and hoping for him to find me and save me. I was so desperate. You- I-”

He choked on his words. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips tight.

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him, tell him that everything was okay now. But you didn’t. You waited for him to collect himself so he could finish telling you his story, just like how he wanted to.

“Anyway, I- despite all that,” he sighed, “That was the only thing that kept me sane. I kept on clinging onto the hope that he was out there, searching. And that helped for a while. Until- until that happened.”

He was breathing heavily now, fidgeting more. Jason was definitely getting increasingly agitated the deeper he went.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck.”

The moment you realised he was crying was when he let out a sniffle. You automatically took his hand in yours, squeezing it as a form of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you told him, “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I need to. I have to. I can’t take this anymore. Keeping everything in, I feel like I’m about to fucking explode.”

“Okay, then take it slow,” you said, “No rush. Anytime you’re ready.”

He nodded, eyes still closed, as if he was afraid of letting you see him cry.

“One night,” he began, “I think- I don’t know what was different- but I think something went wrong for him. Or right? That’s how it was. Tormenting me was fun, but it was also an outlet for him. But at the same time when he was happy, he also tortured me. He came to me, and- injected me with some sort of drug. That never happened before. He made sure that my head was clear whenever he hurt me so that I could feel everything he did.”

“But- he did- and- immediately, I felt weak,” he continued, “I mean, I was already weak. But my head. It was cloudy. I remember everything clearly, but it was like my brain couldn’t process it, couldn’t communicate with my body. I felt like I was looking out through a window that was my eyes- like I was in someone else’s body, experiencing someone else’s moments.”

“He released me,” Jason’s voice was now barely a whisper. “He released me from the ropes, and I fell to the floor. And then he- he- fuck.”

He let go of your hand and started pulling at his hair, rocking back and forth on your bed. He was sobbing now, his shoulders jerking up in sharp intakes of breaths. The only thing you could do was to stay silent and hold back your own tears.

You rested your hand on his knee, giving him a textile connection with reality so he doesn’t fall into his own thoughts.

“You- he- he- ruh- ruhp-”

Your heart sank to your stomach in horror as you realised what Jason was trying to say. It was as if you were plunged into icy water, chills running down your spine at the true revelation of what he had gone through in that cursed cell.

“Oh, no,” you breathed.

“He pushed me down,” he choked, “Pushed me down and climbed on top. I- I couldn’t even fight him. I was- I was conscious the whole time and I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

Your tears were falling down now, both at the sight of Jason looking so vulnerable and fragile, and at his confession. Not being able to help yourself, you threw your arms over his neck and crashed into his hard body, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

His arms immediately wrapped around you, clutching you so hard it was painful as he buried his own face into your shoulder.

“And he kept on saying my name,” he said in muffled cries, “Jason, Jason, Jason. The whole fucking time. And- and I knew. He didn’t do it for pleasure. He did it to torment me. He- he didn’t even- he didn’t even finish.”

Jason sobbed into your skin for the next few minutes, his tears soaking through your night shirt. “But I did. Even though it was painful. Fuck, the pain was worse than anything he had ever done to me before. But- he- I- I fucking came.”

The both of you were sobbing now, his ragged breaths mingling together with your own on that quiet night.

His grip on you was tight, as if he thought that if he let go, you would disappear. So he clung onto you with all his might to keep you there with him as he recalled the horrific events.

“That's what broke me. I was so disgusted with myself. I hated myself. And he- he saw everything and- and laughed. He laughed so hard, I thought he was going to choke and die. I’ve never seen him laugh like that. And I remember every single fucking moment of being helpless on that fucking floor while he- fuck. Fuck.”

“And then he left. He left me on the floor bleeding and I never saw him again. And I went fucking insane. I tried to kill myself so many fucking times. So many times, I lost count. That’s what I dream about every night. His laughs, and his ‘Jason, Jason, Jason’.”

And that was that. That was the story.

The end of Jason Todd.

The both of you cried long and hard that night in each other’s arms. Eventually, you both lied down on the pillows together, underneath the covers.

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” he whispered to you.

Your head was on his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist, your legs tangled with his.

You smiled at that. Even with the trauma, even with the sense of abandonment he felt, he still wanted to protect Bruce from knowing the truth.

Because the both of you knew that the truth would kill him.

“I promise,” you whispered back.

And then the both of you fell asleep together.

***

“Has Jason been sleeping in your room with you?” Bruce asked you on one fine Saturday morning at breakfast.

It had been about a week and a half since the first time Jason knocked on your door and poured out his feelings to you.

“He gets nightmares,” you tried to explain.

He thought that if he told you everything, the nightmares would stop. But it didn’t. But he then realised that the only thing that made it better was sleeping by your side, having someone there to wake him up from living his own hell in a loop.

“And do the two of you… Just sleep?” Bruce frowned.

“Yes!” you widen your eyes in horror at the insinuation. “Bruce! Come on!”

“I know you have feelings for him, and I’m sure he does for you as well. But I don’t think something like that is what Jason needs right now,” he stated.

“Yes, I know!” you groaned at the thought having that kind of conversation with him, “Jesus, Bruce. I know. I’m just there to wake him up or help him fall back asleep. Nothing more.”

Bruce nodded, deep in thought. “Has he… told you? About what happened?”

You pursed your lips. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” his frown went deeper. “I understand. He will tell me when he is ready.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, hiding the fact that Jason may never tell Bruce what happened. Never the full story.

“He still hasn’t left the manor?”

“No,” you sighed, “I asked him if he wanted some fresh air. Just outside the main door, not even going down the steps. But he refused. Told me to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off’.”

“Well, he’s only just left the cave, and it’s just to your room,” Bruce thought out loud, “It’s still progress. Especially since he’s been talking to you about the past.”

“He only spoke about it one time,” you said, “And then never again.”

“I see,” he hummed, “And you’re okay with him sleeping with you?”

“Next to me, Bruce, sleeping next to me,” you corrected.

“Yes, and you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you assured him, “I can kick him out any time I want- but I don’t want to. He looks like a lost puppy sometimes.”

“An angry lost puppy.”

You chuckled at that and couldn’t agree more.

*** While Jason got the sleep he needed when he was next to you, it was counterproductive on your end. You had never been with anyone before, and definitely had not slept on the same bed with another man.

So to feel his body heat and breaths against your skin, his occasional light snores, it made your mind go on hyperdrive.

Most of the time, the two of you would just lie down, your back against his front, or your backs against each other, or both on your backs just staring at the ceiling- and talked. You would be the one talking the most, of course, about anything you could think of. You would tell him about your day, your patrols, something you read about online, or the current news.

But that one particular night during week three of him sleeping next to you, the two of you were silent. It wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, but the kind of silence that was pleasant and was better described as a peaceful quiet.

You had your back pressed against his front and his arm was lazily draped over your waist. It was a cold night, and you were wearing just a tank top and pyjama shorts, snuggling under the covers that went up all the way to your nose.

Shifting a bit while snuggling comfortably, you pressed yourself against Jason’s body to get more of his heat. But then, you were met with something poking against your lower back.

“Ngh, please ignore that,” Jason huffed.

Oh.

For some reason, you forgot that Jason was a physically healthy male who was capable of having sexual thoughts and feelings. All this while, you thought you were the only one.

“Are you- uh- is that- uh-” you stuttered, feeling your face flush with heat.

Feeling your body suddenly alert with excitement.

“Yes, it’s my fucking penis,” he grit almost angrily, “What, never heard of an erection before?”

“Of course I have!” you argued rather defensively, “It’s just- I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?” he demanded, “You didn’t think I could get it up or something?”

“No, of course not!” you denied, “It just didn’t cross my mind, that’s all.”

A pause. Then-

“Well,” he sighed, “You wouldn’t have been wrong.”

Your mind blanked for a second.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

“It’s my- fuck- it’s my first time,” he confessed.

“Your first time getting an erection?” you gasped.

“No, you idiot,” he snapped, “It’s my first time getting hard since… since… then.”

Oh. Oh, you were an idiot.

“It’s just- after that- even when I was downstairs, alone and safe, I- I couldn’t,” he told you, “I kept on thinking back to that time and- and I couldn’t. I found it disgusting.”

And immediately, like someone doused you in cold water, any feeling of horniness you had when you first felt his erection against you disappeared. You just felt so sad for him, but also angry. Angry that he had to go through all of that, and angrier that there was nothing you could do about it.

“So, why do you think you’re getting it now?” you asked. Perhaps talking about it in an objective manner would help guide him through his thought process.

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You’re fucking pressing your ass against my dick, what did you think would happen?”

“Wait, what?” your eyes widen, “You’re hard because of me?”

“No shit,” he said, “You’re hardly wearing any clothes, too.”

You shouldn’t feel happy due to the circumstance and context, but there you were ecstatic that he found you attractive enough to pop a boner after so long.

“Fuck,” he sighed, suddenly pressing himself closer to you.

His hand that draped over your waist when to actually grip it. Then, then, he grinded his hard on against your ass.

“Mmm,” he rumbled deeply, “Feels good.”

There. That was it. You were once again flooded with the feeling of heat that pooled at your stomach, a tingling sensation started at your core. Feeling hot despite the low temperature of the night, you clenched your thighs together, needing the slight pressure.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he grinded on you again, and then unexpectedly let out a chuckle.

“What is it?” you smiled, loving it whenever you heard him laugh.

“I thought… For the longest time, I thought I was broken. That he broke me,” he revealed, “I thought I needed to get all Wingardium Leviosa on this little fucker.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed and groaned at the same time, “You’re so fucking embarassing.”

He laughed along with you and continued. “But now I’m hard and- and horny. You made me feel like I’m normal again. Like I’m sixteen again, and getting horny over everything.”

Sometimes, we take the normal things for granted. Food, shelter, clothes. In this case, it was a goddamned boner. In a way, Jason’s erection was symbolic- however funny it sounded. Getting your sexual appetite and need back after being so traumatised was a massive leap for many people who had experienced the same thing.

It meant that Jason was healing well.

“Does that make you happy?” you asked.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, “But I’m definitely not sad either.”

“That’s good enough for now, then,” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Another few moments of silence. You could feel it, his cock pushing into you. However tempted you were to push back and grind, you held yourself still.

“Uh, Jason?” you voiced.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to like, take care of it?” you asked, “I mean. My bathroom is available. Or- there are many empty rooms.”

“No,” he simply stated.

“No?”

“No.”

“It’s kinda poking into me.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” you gaped, “How can I ignore it? You’re literally pressing it into my ass.”

“Well, then do you want to take care of it?” he teased.

You couldn’t argue back. “Fine, I’ll ignore it.”

He chuckled. “I’ll turn around.”

When he made the movement, you suddenly grabbed him by the wrist. “No, it’s fine. Stay here.”

You expected him to tease you like he usually would, make a crass comment, or even a ‘fuck off’.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you again in silence, and the both of you drifted to sleep.

***

“Do you think this color suits me?” Natalie asked, holding up a floral red dress.

The four of you were at the mall in Diamond District. Now that high school was over, and everyone would be going off to separate colleges in a few months, you tried to spend time with each other as much as you could.

“Any color suits you, Nat,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re hot stuff.”

“Jesus, it’s like you’re shoving it in our faces at this point,” Sarah added, flipping her brunette hair to the side, tight curls flowing down.

“Aw, you guys,” Nat pretended to tear up, “I’m gonna miss you guys so much!”

“Not again,” Alex groaned, “We’ve been through this so many times.”

“I’m gonna be so miserable without you guys,” Natalie continued on, ignoring Alex’s interruption.

“I don’t know,” Sarah shrugged, “I think I’d enjoy New York. I can have pizza parties with the rats in my overpriced apartment.”

You chuckled at Sarah’s joke. Everyone was leaving Gotham except you. Deciding to continue with Robin, you opted for Gotham University- prestigious, old, and most importantly, close to home.

Your phone dinged in your pocket. You opened it to find texts from Dick.

Dick: OH MY GOD. Dick: I’m at the Manor. Dick: Was going to the Cave gym to work out. Dick: AND Dick: JASON IS HERE!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!

That was new. Jason would usually just use whatever basic equipment he had in his room to work out. The fact that he was at the Cave’s sparring area where all the other fancier work out equipment were was out of the ordinary.

You: Just go. See if he reacts. If he suddenly stiffens and just stay there not doing anything, then leave. If he continues on, then it’s okay to stay- but don’t initiate anything! Dick: OKOKOK

You waited anxiously for Dick’s update. All four of you were now walking towards the food court, but you hardly listened to their bickering. Forty-five minutes passed before Dick texted you again.

Dick: OMG HE TALKED TO ME You: What did he say? Dick: He asked me to pass him his towel. You: That’s all he said? Dick: IT’S PROGRESS OKAY!!

Dick was right. It meant that Dick was now the third person Jason had spoken to. Adding another person to his list of contacts was definitely progress.

You were happy for him.

You:Is he still there? Dick: Nah he left Dick: But WOW he’s looking good. He must have been really going at it. I think he might get bigger than me soon You: All he does now is work out. He’s obsessed. Dick: Yeah I can tell

You decided to leave it at that for now and try to concentrate on your friends, but Dick sent another message.

Dick: ARE YOU TWO HAVING SEX?!?!

You spat out your drink, earning weird looks from everyone.

You: DICK!!!! WTF NO!!

Dick never replied.

***

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Jason asked, his voice breaking the silence of your dark room. The two of you were on your bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

“Of course,” you said. It didn’t matter to you what Jason asks for. He hardly ever asked for anything.

“Could you… Take me out tomorrow?” he requested, “If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”

“Uh, sure!” you nodded, surprised. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, okay,” you hesitated, “But- are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to go so far so quickly. Maybe you should start with just going to the backyard?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’m not a kid.”

“Okay then,” you agreed. “Tomorrow.”

You kept on glancing anxiously at him the next day as he climbed into the passenger seat of your car. He was quiet, but looked perfectly fine.

Switching the engine on, you drove out of the garage and out the large automatic gates. Trees soon surrounded the lonely road on both sides as you descended downhill into town.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought Robinson Park would be nice,” you said. It was around three in the afternoon, yet Gotham was dark as though the day was ending. It was cloudy, skies grey and wind blowing.

“You’re taking me to a park?” he scoffed.

“It’s more quiet than anywhere else,” you reasoned with him, “Less people. Spacious. Lots of greenery.”

“Whatever.”

Reaching the parking space of the park, you noticed that there were a few cars. Mothers and nannies liked to bring children out to the park around that time. Joggers and teens, college students and retired elderly seeking a little escape from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass.

You turned the engine off and proceeded to open the door, only then noticing Jason stiffening. Looking over to him, you saw that his eyebrows were pulled down in a deep frown, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists on his knees.

You didn’t say anything or make any comment. Leaning back into your seat, you waited until Jason was ready.

About five minutes passed before he took a deep breath, gave you a nod, and then opened his door.

The two of you walked along a path at the park, going deeper inside and further away from your car. There were a few joggers around, some tourists, and some teens taking photos. You saw a group of kids in the distance playing frisbee, and the others were walking their dogs.

An empty bench stood in the middle of the park, overlooking a clearing. You headed there, Jason following closely behind.

“It’s a bit gloomy today,” you pouted, “As if Gotham could be anything other than that, of course.”

You looked at Jason.

He looked like a scared dog being brought out for the first time.

His jittery knees were bouncing rapidly, his wide eyes were darting at every movement, his forehead was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and his breathing was heavy.

“Woah, woah,” you reached out to him, putting an arm on his back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just listen to me talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he gulped.

“Try to calm your breathing,” you instructed, “Deep breaths, Jason. In… out… In… Out… Yeah, see that’s great.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, now calmer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled warmly, “You’re doing just fine.”

“No, I’m not,” he strained, “I feel like everything is too big. Too vast. The fucking sky looks like it’s going to crash down on me and at the same time suck me up into a void.”

“And despite all you’re feeling right now, you’re not breaking down or anything, are you?” you tried, “You’re okay, Jason. This is progress.”

“I guess,” he sighed, “I’m just- I’m so used to having four walls and a ceiling. Now everything feels too big.”

“I understand,” you empathized, “Whenever you want to go back, just say the word. Or we can even just go and sit in the car. No problem.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” he stood up.

The walk back to the car was faster.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“No, you’re not,” you reassured him, “That was great, Jason. Come on, it was your first time outside in two years and a half. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I’m so fucking broken,” he choked.

“Don’t say that,” you scolded, “You’re not broken. And you know what, even if you think you are, we can always fix it. Baby steps. Maybe we can do this once a week. We were out for like, ten minutes? Next week we’ll try fifteen. How’s that sound?”

“Twice a week,” he stated, “I just want to be normal again.”

“Okay, twice a week, then,” you agreed, “We’ll try again in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay,” he paused, “Thank you.”

“No problemo,” you grinned, “Would you like to stay here a bit longer or shall we go back?”

“Let’s go back.”

“Wanna stop by the diner? You can wait in the car while I ask for a take-away?”

“...okay.”

***

Jason and you had gone out twice more. Once three days after the first time, and the other a week later. The second time he went out, he lasted twenty minutes, though you were sure he was being stubborn on his part. He looked like he was having a heart attack, but he insisted on staying until he hit the twenty minute mark.

The third time, he was much much better. Surprisingly so. The two of you sat down on that bench for half an hour, with you even leaving him alone for a few minutes to get two ice cream cones.

After that, you took him for a drive around the city. He seemed to be more comfortable in the car, so you went all the way from Robinson Park to Diamond District, and back to the manor.

Bruce seemed very pleased with your update, and you swore you could see him actually smile.

“Thank you,” he had told you. “You’ve done more than I could have ever asked of you.”

“It’s no problem, Bruce. Really,” you reassured him.

“I’m his father. He is my responsibility. It’s my fault he’s even in that state. I wish I could do more for him,” he said solemnly.

“The fact that you understand what he needs is more than helpful, Bruce,” you smiled, “Not many parents can do that. You understand and respect him. That’s enough for now.”

He simply nodded.

Ever since your scheduled outings, Jason had become more and more relaxed whenever he was in the manor. He now walked to the kitchen on occasion to mess with Alfred while he cooked meals for him, sometimes sitting in the living room lounging on the couch while reading. Most of the time, though, he was down at the sparring zone of the Cave, working out.

But at night, he would never fail to knock on your door.

And at that particular night, you found yourself in the same situation again while lying down on your side with your back to his front, for the fifth time.

“You officially have to stop calling yourself broken,” you grumbled, “Because that thing poking into my ass is definitely not broken.”

He chuckled lowly. “You complaining, sweetheart?”

Oh, and yes. Jason now had started calling you ‘sweetheart’. Why? You had no clue. It was just a thing that happened. The look on your face when he first slipped it in was probably a sight to behold.

“No shit, I’m complaining, Jason,” you groaned, “You haven’t jerked off, yet? Not even once?”

“Nope,” he popped the P, “I just… I don’t want to… I don’t want to come.”

You sighed, understanding the situation. He had been disgusted with himself because he had ejaculated when Joker… Well, that. You hated to even think about it, so you always shoved the thought away.

“But unfortunately for me, I still get super horny,” he rumbled deeply, pushing his hips into you even more, “So fucking horny.”

“And then I have to suffer,” you complained.

“I can assure you, blue balls are more painful than something poking into you,” he bickered.

“It’s not that…”

“Then?”

“I get horny too, come on man,” you whined, “I’m a hormonal teenage girl. What did you expect?”

“You get horny too?” he whispered after a pause.

“Uh, yeah,” you admitted nervously. Somehow, the mood shifted, and your heart started drumming against your chest.

“Because of me?” he asked.

“Not you specifically, I mean,” you tried to back track, “You’re… Your dick pressing up against me like that, I mean, come on, Jason.”

“Simple question sweetheart,” he told you, “You get horny because of me, yes or no?”

You gulped. “Yes.”

Fuck, why did you say yes? You could have lied. You could have not answered.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You noticed that his hand was now on your hip, right above the waistband of your sleeping shorts, drawing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

You were nervous. The butterflies in your tummy was not helping you calm down.

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut, as if to protect yourself from anything he had to say.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping your hips and grinding his hard on against your ass even more. And did it… Fuck, did it get even harder?

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, and also out of nervousness, you remained silent. Jason’s chest rose and fall against your back, his respiratory rate increasing. His pinky finger slid underneath the waistband, testing the waters before slowly slipping his hand into your pants.

He went in so slowly, as if waiting for you to tell him no, to rip his hand away, to wrench yourself away from him. But you never did, so he went in deeper, caressing the skin beneath your pelvic bone, his heat just burning into you.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he commented, voice suddenly husky.

“I don’t wear them to bed,” you informed him.

“You mean to tell me,” he growled, “That all this while I’ve been sleeping next to you and you never had your panties on?”

“It’s more comfortable that way,” you mumbled.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. “Thank God I never knew. Would have been torture, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Jason,” you gasped.

“It’s true,” he said, “Damn, sweetheart.”

He went lower, closer to your center.

Your core was tingly, small pulses of electricity buzzed through your body as Jason came closer and closer and closer and-

He slipped his hands between your closed thighs and cupped you.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly, “Warm. Fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?” you laughed, even though you felt like screaming on the inside. Screaming for more.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, burying his face into your nape, taking a deep breath. “You smell nice.”

Oh, shit. You totally forgot about Jason’s aversion to strong smells.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “I can switch to an unscented shampoo as well so it wouldn’t be too strong for you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I like it on you.”

He ground his hand into your center harder.

“Mmpf, Jay,” you breathed, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’ve never touched a girl like this before.”

“Really?” you widen your eyes in surprise.

“I was kept in a cell for two years, I couldn’t exactly talk, let alone touch, anyone can I?” he quipped.

“Right.”

“Teach me,” he said.

“What?” you whispered despite knowing what he meant.

A pause of silence. A deep intake of breath, a slow exhale.

“Teach me how to touch you,” he purred.

Fuck, you felt like exploding.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. If you… If you want to.”

Your mind quickly tried to analyse the situation. Bruce had specifically said that Jason didn’t need any complicated matters in the relationship. It made sense. You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason with any confusion or uncertainty.

But at the same time, you’ve been figuring out how Jason thought, bit by bit. He’s told you many times that he just wanted to be normal again, to feel normal, to do normal things. And this was something that was normal, that he should do, that he wanted to do.

And you knew that he probably would take the rejection even worse.

“O-Okay,” you agreed.

Slowly, you separated your thighs, raising the one on top and hooking it over his legs behind you. Due to your shift in position, you felt the minute Jason’s fingers dip slightly into your folds.

“So, uh, this is my first time with a guy as well,” you squeaked, “But I’ll try to guide you.”

You licked your lips.

“Uhm, well, I guess you can start by running a finger up and down between my- oh! Yes, just like that.”

His middle finger slid down to your opening, and then up again slowly. His movements were uncertain, brushing only slightly against your clit unintentionally.

It was different, having someone else touch you. Somehow, despite the inexperience, it just felt better.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking wet. Do you usually get this wet?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No? Yes? I don’t know! I can’t feel it.”

“Shit.”

You let him play with you some more, his fingers sliding up and down, sometimes pressing against your fleshy parts, sometimes circling and gathering your wetness, sometimes just parting your lips. Hell, he even tapped the tips of his fingers on you randomly or brushed into your delicate fuzz. You knew he was just exploring, feeling you for the first time.

And that thought made you smile and sigh.

“Teach me how to make you feel good,” he rasped.

“Uh, so your fingers are wet, right?”

“Yeah. Because you’re leaking all over them.”

“Okay, good. Now find my clit. It’s slightly above your finger, okay, to the left a bit. More. Okay, there! Yeah, right there,” you sighed, finally feeling that delicious pressure.

“Here?”

He tapped your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned, “Yes- but don’t just- nevermind, just gently circle it. Clockwise.”

He obeyed, and hell since when did Jason just obey?

He circled you gently, like you said. But he also went so, so slow.

“Faster, Jay,” you panted.

He went faster, making you groan in pleasure.

“Like this, sweetheart?” he muttered, his voice low and cracking, and sexy, and husky. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and it drove you wild.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

“Feel good?”

“So good, Jay. Press a little harder now- fuck. Fuck. Yes, perfect. Just like that.”

The pressure built as his fingers did their magic.

“You- you’re surprisingly good at that,” you stuttered, “You sure- mmm- you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Despite what you think,” he husked in your ear, warm breath tickling you. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“I can see that.”

“But I’m also good at improvising.”

“Wha- oh. Oh. Fuck! Jason! Oh my fucking god!”

He started pressing even harder, and going even faster, throwing away the slow build you were going for and instead pushing you towards orgasm fast and hard, as if he was determined to prove something to you.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he purred, “You gonna come soon?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!”

“You want to come for me?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Yes!”

What the hell? When did he learn how to talk like that?

Because with the mix of his heavy pants, his low voice coaxing you, his barrage of pleasure at your clit, you felt the familiar tightening of your core. You threw one hand back and found his hair. Running your fingers through them, you gripped them tight and pulled.

You pulled on his hair as he forced the orgasm onto you.

“Oh my God. Jason, I’m gonna- fuck- I’m- fuck- ah!”

You moaned loudly as you felt your walls flutter, clenching over nothing as you reached your high.

“O-okay, stop, fuck,” your hand went from his hair to his wrist, stilling him. He withdrew his hands from your pants, and went to grip you tight again by the waist.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he groaned, grinding into you. You pushed your ass back, feeling his hardened length against your flesh in your post-orgasm bliss. “Jesus, that was so hot.”

“That was- yeah,” you giggled, “Fuck.”

His face was still buried in your neck. You could feel his lips on your skin.

“Uhm, I can, you know,” you sputtered, “Try to help you out?”

“It’s fine,” he breathed, body still tight against yours, “Just go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, feeling guilty that he didn’t get off. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. That was great. I enjoyed that. I told you, I don’t want to come.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Go to bed.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Fuck, I’m so horny.”

“Jason,” you whined, “Really, I can help-”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, “Goodnight.”

You pursed your lips.

“Goodnight.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #robin #jason todd imagine #dont call me that

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basicjetsetter · 4 years ago

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Part IV

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Little angst, Lot of anxiety, Fluff if you squint

▹ Words: 2.8k

▹ A/N: This chapter’s a bit on the short side, but it establishes a lot. Happy reading!

You’re not exactly sure how you pull it off, but you somehow manage to elude Peter for five straight days.

Playing the impromptu game of hide-and-not-be-seen was touch and go for the first two days, mainly because you weren’t sure what time you’d see Peter in the diner’s entrance. All you knew was that he’d show up early, whatever that meant. Almost every chiming bell sent your heart into overdrive, and whenever you thought you saw him, your stomach performed painful somersaults as you mapped out all likely escape routes.

No place in the diner was safe. Hal’s has a pretty simple layout: front entrance, booths to the immediate right, and bar with barstools to the immediate left, all in a shotgun fashion. If one were to try looking for someone, especially from the front entrance, all they’d have to do is marginally widen their field of vision, which is why the first two days were tricky.

The next day after the first run-in, about three hours earlier than his initial arrival, Peter came in through the front door, buddying up with Chris and asking for you.

You were clearing off an unoccupied table, piling dirty plates, when Chris called out, “Hey! How’s it hanging, Peter?” With the stack of dishes still clenched in your hands, you dropped down and crawled under the booth, coming face to face with an unsavory assortment of chewed-up gum underneath the table, holding your breath for dear life. Peter stayed for about ten agonizingly treacherous minutes as Chris failed to locate you.

On the second day, a sluggish Tuesday morning with only four regular patrons at the bar and no one in the booths, Peter had just walked through the entrance as you were coming out of the back, hand-carrying three of Hal’s famous Thin Mint Milkshakes. Without a thought, you spun right around and dashed in the opposite direction, busting through the employee door and colliding straight into Wendy. You’d never seen someone throw such a fit, but then again, you’d be pretty pissed too if someone coated you head-to-toe in milkshake.

That day was… eventful, to say the least, but it gifted you with the best estimate for Peter’s arrivals. Early meant 11:30 a.m. on the dot. Lunch. You tested out the time the next day, waiting behind the employee door and peering out the medium-sized port window. At 11:30 a.m., right on cue, was Peter, dapping Chris and ordering a slice of Banana Cream Pie to-go while also asking for your whereabouts, staying for only half an hour.

He left you a note each time he departed.

Can’t seem to catch you. I’ll try again tomorrow :) – Peter

Is this not a good time for you? I’ll stop by later if you want – Peter

Is everything alright? Text or call anytime you need me. I’ll be there – Peter

From the second note on, you found yourself captivated by his neat little scrawl and the way he always signed his name at the end, as if you’d forget it was him. You’d read them on your way home and right before falling asleep, trying and failing not to picture him smiling at you while you absent-mindedly smiled at his words.

Your friendly boy-next-door is so easy to fall for, but you just can’t do it. You can’t allow yourself to fall. Nobody would be there to pick you back up.

Some nights, you lied awake drafting a message that would effectively convince Peter that things wouldn’t work between you, that you’re a lost cause, and he should probably find some other connection if such a thing exists. But then, unfailingly, you’d think about his concerned little notes and sadly acknowledge that he deserves more than a measly text. After showing up to Hal’s for almost a whole week just to get to know you, Peter deserves the truth.

Your heart is not ready for a Soulmate, and it might not ever be.

By the fifth day, you spend a good chunk of time pondering over the right words to say to Peter while simultaneously hiding in the kitchen, pretending to prepare more fries. You never looked forward to hiding from him, but what other option did you have? Going out there and letting your coworkers and boss know he’s your Soulmate? They wouldn’t shut up about it, especially not Chris, the open romantic.

When your shift ended that day, and you walked up to Chris so he could hand you Peter’s fifth note, he emphatically shook his head.

“On behalf of my new friend, Peter, I can’t in good faith give this to you,” he stated, tucking the folded paper into his back pocket and crossing his arms. “Not until you tell me why you’re dodging him.”

You frowned, crossing your arms too. “It’s really none of your business, Chris.”

“True, but it’s his.” The little dig got to you, making you wince. Chris continued softly, “Look, he won’t tell me what’s up with you two, either. And, trust me, I've asked. It's just... I’m kinda involved now, being the messenger and all, so shouldn’t I know some of the situation?”

“No…?” you hedged.

Chris didn’t budge.

You couldn’t think of a lie on the spot, and a half-truth would only further complicate things. Treading the fine line of what’s too much information and what’s not enough left you frustratingly tongue-tied. What’s specific enough to still be vague? Chris stared at you expectantly with a petulant little lift in his brow, ignoring a customer’s disgruntled calls for a refill in the napkin dispenser.

In the end, you huffed out a resigned breath and hesitantly admitted, “Peter's someone I knew from high school—a really nice guy.” For Chris’s benefit, you added, “He just likes to check up on me every now and then. You know how I don’t get out that much…”

And in a heartbeat, Chris morphed from a tough enquirer to a softened pile of dough, sagely nodding his head as if he knew all too well how reserved you are and how much of a losing battle it is persuading you to venture out. Or maybe it was because he understood how difficult it is to reconnect with people you unwilfully lost touch with for five years.

How everything and everyone fell right back into step with everyday life, like five years was just five minutes, continues to boggle your mind. It’s not normal. You won’t ever pretend that it is.

The disgruntled man shouted, “Can I get any damn service around here?”

Chris immediately broke from the conversation and left you behind the bar, off to go charm the customer’s socks off and earn a nice $10 tip even though he clocked out ten minutes ago.

You went on your way home, the ever-present anxiety of confronting Peter growing by the second.

Hours later, dressed down to your pajamas and reading his words over again, you’re still thinking about it, dread now gnawing on your insides.

You couldn’t even enjoy your newfound peace of mind. Ever since the voice stopped, Peter twined into all of your thoughts: his notes, his visits, his smile, your connection to him. There had to be a reason why destiny paired you. Besides being your Soulmate, what is he to you? What are you to him?

Unrest barred you from sleep for most of the night, and when you woke up the next morning, showered and ready to tackle another day, it hit you.

It’s Saturday—your day off this week—and you’re not scheduled to go back to work until Monday.

You could put off telling him… but what would be the point? It’d only prolong the inevitable. You needed to come clean today.

Picking up your phone, you steadily tap in his memorized cell number, then type:

-Hey Peter, it’s Y/N. Can you come by my place? We need to talk.

Three minutes later, he texts back.

-On my way.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

A nice, early summer breeze billows around you, doing its best to calm down your erratic nerves as you wait for Peter on the roof.

Are you doing the right thing?

Will Peter be okay with this?

What if he isn’t?

You jump out of your skin at the muffled Thwip and sudden appearance of Peter standing a few feet away.

His chestnut hair is windswept, and he’s wearing regular clothes, a faded blue Midtown High hoodie and denim jeans. You weren’t sure why you expected him to come dressed in his suit. It could be because you heard the sound of his web-slinger first and immediately thought of Spider-Man, but it’s more likely that your brain hasn’t connected that they are one and the same. You don’t see Spider-Man when you see him. All you see is Peter.

He’s tense, not moving an inch closer and keeping his shoulders pinched up like he’s on the defense. You can’t guess why he would be.

Gulping down a hard lump lodged in your throat, you stutter, “H-hi.”

He gives you a polite smile that doesn’t reach his sullen eyes. “Hey”

You both begin at the same time.

“Peter, I—”

“Look, Y/N—”

Ice floods your stomach, freezing your veins and squeezing your pounding heart. He has something to say to you? About what? You subtly jerk your head up, signaling for him to speak first.

Peter clears his throat, looks down at his shoes, then back up at you. “I know you’ve been hiding from me.”

“You do?” you squeak, eyes wide.

“Yeah, and it’s okay.”

Your voice hikes an octave. “It is?”

He nods. “Yeah. It’s fine. I get it.” He stops to scratch the back of his neck and dejectedly rambles on, “I’m not the safest person to be around, and it’s all super weird and a lot to take in. Like, a lot. My Aunt May freaked out too when she found out. Anyway, I… I get it if you don’t, y’know, don’t want me.”

“Wait, hold on,” you interrupt, trying to wrap your head around what he said. “You think… you think I don’t want you because you’re Spider-Man?”

“Well, yeah.” He says it like there couldn’t be any other possible reason.

You lower your gaze to the ground, unable to meet his curious gaze. “No, Peter, that’s not it.” Tears prick your eyes, but you fight like hell to keep them from falling. Steeling yourself, you quietly confess, “It’s me. I can’t be your Soulmate because…” A rebellious tear rolls down your cheek. “Because I’m not ready.”

As soon as you spoke the truth out loud, laying yourself and your broken soul bare, you dimly sense the previously severed string quiver deep down inside your chest. It’s the first time you felt it in five years, and it’s not how you remember it. It’s not severed, but it’s not whole either. Its presence only reminds you of what you can’t have, what you aren’t ready for.

In the ensuing quiet, you swipe the tear off your cheek and look at everything except Peter. Yellow tulips are blooming on someone’s balcony in the neighboring apartment building. A handful of fluffy clouds float in the piercing blue sky. An orange tabby cat is sun-bathing in a window.

It’s such a beautiful day. Yet, here you are, struggling not to cry on a roof.

Peter breaks through the silence, murmuring, “To be honest, I’m not ready either.”

“Really?” You ask, a little too hopeful, bringing your eyes back to his. They look so weary yet resolute.

“Yeah. I was actually freaking out that night we met.” He timidly grins, and your heart flips. “I didn’t know what to say, then I screwed up and forgot to ask if you were okay after I had literally just saved you from falling. Not really a glowing first impression.”

Astonishing yourself, you laugh. You couldn’t help it. There was absolutely nothing remotely hilarious about that night, but the way Peter described it, as if it were a blunder solely on his part, was so ridiculous that it was funny. Peter joins in, too, his laugh coming out airy and wondrously addictive. That smile you couldn’t stop thinking about for a whole week brightens his face.

When the laughs fade, Peter soberly says, “Even if we aren’t ready, maybe we can try being friends, just to see where things go? I mean, we were meant to be together for a reason, right? This could be it.”

You unconsciously nibble on your lower lip, considering his proposal. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might want to be friends. Would you want to do that? These days, you aren’t really open to platonic relationships, and Soulmate or not, being in a friendship would require some sort of connection. You don’t like those much.

Be that as it may, Peter seems like the type to respect your many boundaries, and that’s exactly what you would prefer in a friend at the moment. Someone who doesn’t pry. Someone who doesn’t uphold generic expectations. You could go for a diner talk every once in a while.

Besides, it’s just a little friendship. Most are surface level, and some don’t even last a year. What’s the worst that could happen?

You sincerely smile at Peter, wondering about the last time your smiles were sincere, and say, “Okay. Let’s be friends.”

His face radiates joy. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I think we can do that. But I have a few terms.”

Peter eagerly nods, waiting.

You try not to focus on how his happiness thrills you. “One, don’t tell anyone we’re Soulmates. I don’t really want any of my coworkers to know.”

His smile drops into a sheepish wince. “I kinda already told Ned. But he won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“That’s okay. It’s mostly my coworkers I’m worried about,” you reassure. You weren’t going to berate him for telling his best friend. If things were different, you’d have done the same. “Two, don’t ask me to hang out with your other friends. I don’t do big friend circles.”

“Got it,” he militantly nods again. “It’s mostly just Ned and me anyway.”

“And three,” your grin broadens. “If Chris asks you what’s going on between us, be super vague.”

“Done.” He smirks back at you, then extends his hand. “Friends?”

When your hand touches his, and you shake on it, the warmth of his palm thaws out all your remaining anxiety. “Friends.”

✦ ✧✦ ✧

When Monday rolls around, a tiny ball of doubt weighs you down.

It’s not that you were afraid of talking to Peter. You were actually looking forward to getting to know him now that you officially became friends. It’s the future you’re stuck on. What happens if you get too attached to this friendship and want more? What if friendship is all he wants? What if it’s the other way around?

If you were honest with yourself, you’d know which way the gage is leaning, and it’s not in your favor.

You’re cleaning off the bar top when Peter comes in, doing his usual greeting with Chris before settling down on a barstool in front of you. He’s a little high strung, leaning his chin on his hand, then thinking against it, only to do it again. It was oddly comforting to know that he was overthinking too.

The corners of your lips tug up in a soft smile. “Hi, Peter.”

Your face warms as he smiles back. “Hey, Y/N.”

Chris barges in, leaning his elbows on the bar top and gaping incredulously at you and Peter. “Woah, woah, woah! Did I miss something? Since when are you two speaking in public?”

Peter checks his watch. “About thirty-seven seconds ago.”

“Oh, come on, dude. At least tell me what happened.”

You and Peter share a knowing look like two conniving co-conspirators sharing an inside joke, and you giggle as Chris huffs in annoyance. He glumly storms off when you two stay hushed, muttering, “Fine, next time you need a middle-man, count me out.”

“Does he hold grudges?” Peter asks after Chris walks out of earshot.

You’re still shaking with giggles. “Not at all. He’ll be back to his happy self in less than an hour.”

Peter only stays at Hal’s for twenty-five minutes, but they were the funniest and most intriguing twenty-five minutes you ever worked.

The conversation began slowly at first, but each question loosened the formalities. Peter asked about easy things: when did you get into art, when did you start working at Hal’s, and when was your birthday, all while digging into his slice of pie. He caught on fast enough to know the topic of parents was off-limits, and he thankfully chose to stay away from any talk of the blip.

When you asked him questions, he was open and responsive, jumping at the chance to talk about his passion for bio-sciences and Star Wars, sometimes covertly mentioning some of the duties he has a Spider-Man. Not a minute was wasted. You talked while serving customers and cleaning tables, keeping up the joke of staying quiet when Chris tried to meddle.

It all turned out smoother than you expected. Almost too smooth, and you’re not sure if that’s good or bad.

You are sure about one thing, though. You like having Peter as a friend.

...

Part V

#peter parker #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #spider-man x black!reader #spider-man x reader #soulmate au #post endgame #pre far from home #peter parker soulmate au #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #marvel fanfic #black!reader #slow burn #how to trust a heart #peter parker fluff

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silverandarsenic-hcs · 4 years ago

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Hey, if requests are still open, how do you think the ghouls (and papas if you're in the mood!) would react/behave around a s/o who has to work from home (because of huge social anxiety and burn out), thank you x)

Hello there! This was written way back then by @oriharaobito ! The actual ask got eaten but we had it copy and pasted above! Enjoy! - Rosie

Dewdrop: Probably the most active of all the ghouls, he’ll probably come annoy you while you’re trying to work often. He doesn’t understand that you have work to do and will think “being home = available to do whatever”. You’re gonna have to distract him with like… colouring pages, or a video game, or tell him he needs to go hang out with friends. He’ll protest and say he wants to spend time with you. He knows he can’t drag you out of the house unless you’re in the mood, so that means he’s gotta stay home with you if he wants your attention. That doesn’t make him any less energetic, though. Don’t expect to get a lot of work done unless you’re gonna seriously lay it on him that you can’t just stop working to entertain him. He’ll get the message… eventually.

Aether: Respects your space, if you’re in your home office he’s not likely to bug you. Totally willing to go do his own thing while you work. Sometimes if you ask he’ll sit with you while you work and play guitar so you have some background noise, or he’ll make light conversation. Probably the most prone to making you take breaks if he thinks you’ve been working too long, though. Will drag you out to the kitchen for dinner, or maybe go sit outside for a breather. He knows work is important, but so is play. You can go back to work later.

Mountain: Gonna have to figure out a schedule for work calls/quiet time vs when he gets to play drums at home. Personally I’m not averse to randomly listening to someone play drums but… not everyone would be a fan. Also respects your work space and doesn’t mind giving you some quiet time if you need it. When he feels like you need to take a break he’d probably knock on the doorframe and present you with a mug of tea or coffee or hot chocolate… whatever you prefer. That or a little snack. Or he’d pop in to say, “Y’know, it’s about 1, which is normally lunch time… I don’t wanna eat alone, so…” Is too cute when asking to say no to.

Swiss: Like Dew, probably a little annoying. He wants to sit in your workspace with you, and he’ll be pretty quiet, but he’s so touchy. Playing with your hair, kissing your neck, wanting to hold your hand, sitting there and gently pushing your chair. He’s silently annoying. You can give him exasperated sighs and eye rolls and huffs galore, but it’ll just make him smile and chuckle. Eventually you’re either gonna have to give into his pestering, or politely remind him your work is important. If you go with the latter he’s gonna pout and ask, “What? I’m not?” earning him another sigh. He’s kidding, and you know that, but there’s really no getting out of showing him he’s important to… He won’t tease you all the time because he’s fine to entertain himself, but sometimes he can’t help but pester you into taking a break.

Rain: Finally, someone who can sit in your office and keep you company quietly, AND without bothering you. He’s going to find something of his own to work on to keep him busy, he might even put earbuds in to work. Much more prone to losing track of time, though, and sitting there working for hours on end with no break. You’re going to have to set reminders or alarms for breaks or lunch. Sometimes when he isn’t sitting quietly working on his own thing with you, he’ll come in to get you to take a break and take a nap with him. He’ll argue that a good nap in the middle of the day could make you more productive. Don’t fact check him (or me) though, it’s probably best to just give in. Probably also not the most social, so stay home for however long you want.

Cirrus: Responsible time management queen. Definitely prone to reminding you to take breaks to stretch, or have a snack or lunch, or some tea, or a nap… just wants you to take good care of your body. Your mind, too! She’ll get you a puzzle or something to do when you have some downtime. Or she’ll find you on a break and say, “You know what would be fun? If we cleaned the kitchen! Or did laundry!” And it’s not in a condescending way or to make you feel like you’ve been putting off chores. It’s just… something she can do to spend time with you. She wants to do the dishes with you, or fold laundry with you, or squeeze the dish soap bottle in front of you guys so it makes all those little pretty bubbles. Your work is important, so she won’t bother you when you’re focused. But when you have a moment, she’s gonna pounce on the opportunity to do something domestic with you.

Cumulus: You’ve been working pretty diligently, in the office most of the day. There has been some noise in the kitchen, but nothing you decided warranted investigation. Until, hours later, you definitely think that is the smell of something burning. When you slide into the kitchen (damn socks on tile) there is Cumulus, her cute apron has been made a complete mess, holding a tray of cookies in the chaos that was formerly called a functional kitchen. Flour and cookie dough are on every available surface, dishes piled high in the sink and the mixer still on the counter with plenty of cookie dough left in the bowl. Her sheepish smile makes you feel bad for wanting to get angry for a moment. “I just thought it’d be nice to make you a snack! You were so focused, I didn’t want to bother you, but I wanted to get you to take a break, maybe, so I thought I’d make cookies…” She’s going on and on about it, and you can’t help but snag a taste of the cookie dough out of the bowl. “I’m sorry if they taste bad, or that the kitchen’s a mess, or-” You cut her off before she can make any more apologies, because the cookie dough is so good, and she’s just as sweet - if not more. You take a break and settle down at the table with your new snacks and a chatty ghoul. Work (and cleaning up the kitchen) can wait a bit. Cookies are best fresh out of the oven.

Papa I: Home office buddies! You can both sit and work quietly in the same room. I think he might fall asleep in his chair sometimes, though. Try not to leave him there, it’s bad for his spine. Wake him up and you can both have some tea, or maybe sit and talk or have lunch. Sometimes he even has enough energy even to take a little walk with you when the weather is nice. When he does go out he makes sure you really want to stay home and work by yourself. Why not come work in his office for a day? Or work outside if you can? A change of scenery is always nice. You’re sure you want to stay home? Alright, but please make sure not to work for hours at a time. He’ll have sticky notes on his desk with the clergy reminding him to call you to make sure you’re getting adequate breaks. Or he’ll have a ghoul remind him to call you, or if he ends up being in the middle of something and can’t call, you’re getting a call with a ghoul on the end saying, “Papa requested I check with you to make sure you’re taking a break from your work at this time.” You can lie to the ghoul if you want, but would you really wanna lie to Papa? Might as well come back to what’s at your desk later.

Papa II: I know he’s a party animal and everything, but he’s also a pretty serious guy. You’d probably be the one to distract him from work before he distracts you. Early riser, he’s on that grind for the clergy from dawn to dusk. More prone to leaving the house to work, But he’ll leave you a little note each day before he leaves. When he is home, he’ll be somewhere in the house doing his own thing. Might sit down in your office if he’s feeling particularly friendly that day. If he thinks you need to take a break, whatever it may be for (wink wink nudge nudge) the possibility of getting out of it is slim to none. Like I said, pretty serious. Definitely the most prone to performing some not safe for work acts when he is feeling up to messing with you. Good thing is, you work from home. I don’t think he’d care either way, though.

Papa III: Has the same dirty mind as his older brother, but is laying on the charms instead of getting right to it. He wants to woo you away from your work. He’s showering you with compliments, telling you that you’re so gorgeous you shouldn’t have to waste the day working. He’s probably prone to occasionally dragging you away to go out to lunch. Somewhere quiet and private because he knows you probably aren’t one for big crowds or busy places. He likes to work but he also likes to play, he doesn’t take his own job seriously so he’s going to try to convince you to have the same mindset. You can get your work done most days, but you’ve definitely got a break or two in the middle of the day that’s all about Papa.

Cardinal Copia/Papa IV: He’s probably got about the same work ethic as you. Works for a reasonable amount of time each day, sometimes he forgets to take breaks or eat, and at the end of the day you can find him on the couch doing nothing because he did stuff all day and now he doesn’t wanna do stuff anymore. That’s alone, though. When you’re there, his day is immediately better. You can both complain to each other about work stuff, you can whip up something in the kitchen together, and you can sit on the couch in pajamas eating and watching trashy tv and roasting it. If he wasn’t currently in charge of the entire clergy, he’d likely work from home more often. But alas, his job is extremely important, and so most days he’s out of the house. Not prone to texting you or leaving notes, but he will do something more random that you’ll see. He’ll send something to your work e-mail. A sweet note, or a meme that his young-but-still-old-kinda man brain can grasp. Or sometimes he opens the window to send you something, gets distracted, and one of his rats runs across the keyboard while he’s turned away and you receive an e-mail that just says: “efjsksf’;d;;’;;..;]’.l;.” which is hilarious and makes you laugh for 10 minutes until you’re wheezing and maybe crying a little. Laugh breaks are the best breaks.

- @oriharaobito

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

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Lullaby and good night

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie/Little: Minho

Caregiver: Jisung

Minho’s POV.:

Our next comeback was approaching and 3racha had only finished up in the studio very recently. Now that all their tracks had been finished, it was the dance-line’s task to come up with choreographies. Being the oldest member of the dance-line, I felt a sense of responsibility, so I pretty much took the lead and spent most of my time in the practice room. In my free time, which was mostly at night, I went to the studio to practice my vocals. I knew I had to improve my singing, I read all the comments online, saying the only reason I was in the group was for my visuals. As much as it honored me that Stay found me handsome, as much did it hurt to hear I was good for nothing. Some nights I skipped entirely, not going back to the dorm at all and meeting up with my members for practice the next morning. Often it took a stern conversation with Chan-hyung to drag me back and get some rest. Couldn’t he see that I needed more time to practice? That I needed to work more to make up for the talent I was lacking? I hadn’t gone home after practice last night, instead dancing for another three hours before dragging my sore body to the studio to go over some of the new songs. I hoped with enough practice I’d get my lines down to perfection. It weren’t many anyways.

The next morning, I met up with Hyunjin and Felix to work on our choreos. The young Aussie was having a tough time, often messing up and being on edge the entire time. I saw his hands shaking every time he lost a step and his brows were furrowed as though he had a headache. Being a little myself, it didn’t take long for me to put two and two together. The poor boy was trying so hard not to slip but the stress was slowly getting to him. He wasn’t even there for a full hour before I decided to be a good hyung and send him home. It took a while for Felix to accept my decision, he didn’t want to hold us back and be a burden and I knew exactly how he felt but after quite some pushing from Hyunjin and me and a call to Chan, the dance-line maknae let the leader collect him from the practice room. From that on, it was only Hyunjin and me. We hadn’t even danced for that long but we were both drenched in sweat. My limbs ached and my protested with every movement. I doubted my dongsaeng felt any different but he put on a battle-face and soldiered on. Hyunjin really was something, though sensitive most of the time, when it came to dancing, he was pure professionalism. Not once did he complain about me torturing both of us with endless reruns of the same sequence. It was easy to work with him and seeing him be strong and push his exhaustion and pain away, gave me the strength to do the same.

We cut our lunch break short. Hyunjin gave me a proteinbar from his bag because I had eaten my last for dinner last night. I’d have to go back to the dorm soon to refill the snack-department of my practice bag. The break was just long enough to catch our breaths and force down a proteinbar and some water. Sure, it wasn’t a full meal but if we ate too much, the sharp movements would make us queasy. My eyes were burning and my head ached but on second thought, everything ached, so all I could do was suck it up and hope we’d finish soon. I was really craving a shower and my bed at this point. We had only resumed dancing for a few minutes, when my eyes were starting to bother me, well, bother me more than before. The bright overhead lights seamed distorted, casting strange shapes. I really shouldn’t wear my contacts for days on end. Blinking rapidly, I tried to clear my vision from the shimmering distortions before looking over at Hyunjin, squinting in an attempt to see him clearly. I’ve probably been staring at him for too long because he gave me a questioning look. The room suddenly shifted sideways before everything went black.

When I came to again, the first thing I heard was a loud howling noise quickly changing in pitch. It was too loud, my head was pounding and the noise didn’t help with that at all. Why couldn’t it just be quiet? I wanted to sleep. There were broken and half-suppressed sobs somewhere close. But where? It sounded a lot like Hyunjin. Trying to open my eyes, I failed as my eyelids seemed to be glued shut. There was a pressure around my hand, which seemed to come from the same direction as the sobs. Finally managing to blink my eyes open, I quickly closed them again and groaned as I hadn’t expected it too be so bright. I felt my hand being squeezed and I gave a weak squeeze back. There was also a voice that I didn’t recognize, words blurring together incomprehensible. Just wanting to sleep, I decided to ignore the voice and kept my eyes closed. It was too bright to open them anyways. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t go back to sleep. As soon as I became aware of the moist stickiness, with which my pants clung to me, it was too uncomfortable to get another minute of rest.

Through all the commotion, I kept my eyes closed. Why wouldn’t they stop bothering me? Is it too much to ask to just be allowed some rest? There were hands on me and my bed was shaking. I tried swatting the hands away but I wasn’t strong enough. My clothes were pulled on and suddenly I felt cold. Was I naked? My breathing quickened as I felt helpless and violated. All I had wanted to do was sleep off the pounding headache behind my temples. Oh thanks, someone had put a blanket on me. The commotion was slowly dying down and I dared opening my eyes again, though only a crack. The reassuring hand in mine had disappeared for a while but now I could feel it again. Looking over, I was faced with a tearstained Hyunjin. “H-Hey, you’re awake, hyung”, he smiled shakily. Trying to speak, I head to clear my throat a few times before I was able to get a sound out: “J-Jinnie? Wha’ happened? People were touching me, my head hurts.” – “It’s ok, hyung. They were only helping”, Hyunjin promised before breaking into tears again, “We were dancing together when you kept staring at me. I asked you a few times what was wrong but – but-…” – “Jinnie?”, rasped, squeezing his hand like he had done to me before. My dongsaeng just continued to choke on sobs, clearly terrified of something. But what?

I wanted to reassure him but how could I when I didn’t even know what happened? I was still so unbelievably tired but I couldn’t go to sleep, knowing my dongsaeng was crying next to me. The door opened and in piled my friends. Chan sat down on the bed next to my, taking my hand into his, while Changbin pulled Hyunjin out of the chair and into his arms. “Hyung?”, I looked at him with pleading eyes. The oldest sighed, studying my face: “You don’t remember what happened, do you Min?” I shook my head a bit, waiting for an explanation. “Hyunjin called us because you suddenly collapsed and had a seizure. He called an ambulance, which took both of you here, we followed”, the leader explained calmly but in his eyes I could see he was anything but calm. I had heard anything clearly but for some reason I couldn’t comprehend his words. They made no sense to me. Why would I have a seizure? I never had one before. My hyung must have sensed my confusion because he added: “The doctor said it might have been caused by sleep deprivation but they couldn’t confirm it yet because no one knew how much or rather little sleep you had gotten recently. To me it sounds likely because there were too many nights you didn’t come back at all.” Refusing to meet Chan’s eyes, I stared at the blanket in my lap, which seemed to confirm his suspicions. “I don’t think I have to tell you that you should have taken better care of yourself. You’re one of the oldest here and I know I haven’t been the greatest role-model but not even I have ever taken it to that extreme”, He frowned disappointed. Fighting tears back, I tried to explain myself: “It’s just, all those comments online, reminding me of my lack of talent. I just wanted to improve myself for Stay.” Great, with that confession I have earned myself another round of ‘Why we are not supposed to read comments on social media’, but I knew they meant well giving me a talk.

Another hour, many compliments for my skills and hugs from everyone later, most members went home, promising that one or two of them would come back later to bring me a bag with some clothes and my toothbrush. Much to my dismay, I learned that I’d have to stay at least one night for observation. Chan and Jisung stayed after everyone else left. I was grateful for their presence because I still needed to come to terms with what had happened. I had talked to a doctor, who had explained my situation again. It gave me hope because he said it might never happen again if I make sure to take good care of my body. His words were very inspirational to me: ‘Rest is a right, not a reward.’ I will probably make a poster of this and hang it in the 3racha studio, so others could also benefit from this man’s wise words.

No one’s POV.:

Chan and Jisung stayed to keep Minho company. The dancer kept a cool exterior to reassure his friends but the two knew he was really shaken-up inside. The trio continued talking, about everything and anything, trying to distract themselves and the mood in the room was considerably light. Until a nurse came in, that is. She wanted to give the dancer an IV, which would also be useful for administering medication for the pain. The atmosphere turned sour and Minho squirmed uncomfortably. He hated needles. Jisung quickly took his hand, trying to calm the older down. The nurse gave them a sympathetic smile as she had seen the same scene multiple times. Her promises, it would only be a tiny pinch and it would be over before Minho knew it, fell on deaf ears. When she took another step closer, needle in hand, the dancer couldn’t take it anymore. He screamed, trying to pull away from Jisung, who was holding onto his wrist. Then, as if a switch was flicked, he crawled back to the rapper, clutching his shirt. “Jiji, nuh let Min huwt!”, he sobbed, his breaths coming in short strained puffs. The nurse quickly put the needle down out of sight, taking a few steps back to give them space. Chan and Jisung had both paled immediately after noticing how Minho had slipped. They were terrified of it happening with a stranger in the room, afraid the little would be treated with disgust. Jisung was quick to sit on the edge of the bed, an arm wrapped around the dancer as he whispered soothing nothings and tried to help the other to slow his breathing down. At the same time, Chan studied the nurse, hoping for any clue on how she thought about little space.

A few minutes later, Jisung had finally managed to talk the little down and the nurse considered it safe to approach them again, without a needle this time. “Hey sweetie, can you tell me how old you feel right now?”, she cooed, crouching in front of the pair. All she got was a whimper from Minho, who pressed himself closer to Jisung, and the stunned looks of Chan and Jisung. She smiled at their confusion: “Regressing in age is a not too uncommon coping mechanism. People only thing it’s uncommon because everyone’s ashamed of talking about it. What’s bad about creating a safe space for oneself? It’s harmless, unlike taking drugs or self-harming as an outlet.” She wasn’t wrong there and her acceptance helped Minho build the courage to meet her eyes. When they were going to give the IV another try, Chan silently disappeared out of the room to call the members at the dorm, asking them to also pack Minho’s beloved cat plushie and a pacifier.

“Min, I’d need to give you some medicine but to be able to do that, I’ll have to put a small tube into the back of your hand”, she tried carefully. The little’s eyes went wide and he shook his head furiously. Jisung rubbed his back, hoping to be able to convince him: “Kitten, I know you’re scared. Hyung knows. But don’t you feel icky?” Minho sniffled and touched his head, whimpering a pitiful: “Ouchie.” – “I know, bubba. She’s going to help with that, if you let her. You trust Jiji-hyungie, right? I wouldn’t let anyone do anything that’s bad for you”, the rapper promised, “You’re my brave boy, aren’t you?” Minho whined loudly, he knew Jisung was right but he hated it. “Usually when we have to give a child an injection or IV, we let them sit on their parents lap”, the nurse mused. Jisung didn’t have to be told twice to kick of his shoes and sit down on the bed properly. He pulled the little onto his lap, who quickly buried his face against the rapper’s neck. Taking a few deep breaths and inhaling the caregiver’s soothing scent, Minho held out his right hand, stretching it far away from his body. “You’re so brave, kitten. Hyung’s really proud of you”, Jisung praised. The nurse wasted no time, afraid the little’s burst of confidence would be over before she’d have the needle in. It was really only a small prick and Minho didn’t even have the time to cry out before it was over. Quickly wrapping a few layers of bandage around the dancer’s hand to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally pull the needle out, she stepped back and smiled. She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a small piece of paper, chuckling: “A brave boy like you totally deserves some stickers.” – “Stickers!!!”, the little squealed, accepting the sheet and studying it. Jisung grinned, glad the fuss was over, and reminded: “What do we say, Min?” – “Tank chuuu!”, the dancer giggled. With a satisfied smile, the nurse connected the bag of fluids and painkillers before leaving the room.

Chan returned and listened to Minho boast about his knew stickers, while they waited for their friends to arrive with the dancer’s necessities. “Hyung, I’m going to stay here with him tonight”, Jisung announced, still sitting on the bed with the little on his lap. The leader nodded, he had already expected this given the rapper was Minho’s main caregiver and the two were extremely close. They kept playing around for a while, the dancer giggling happily, IV already forgotten, till there was a knock on the door. In came Changbin and Seungmin their worried faces brightening at the sight of the happy little on Jisung’s lap. Their worry had doubled when Chan told them Minho had slipped but it now melted away completely. “Hey there, little one”, Seungmin laughed, walking over and ruffling the dancer’s hair, “You gave your Jinnie-hyung quite a scare”, noticing the little’s frown, he was quick to add, “Don’t worry Jinnie’s fine.” – “Look we brought Soori”, Changbin distracted, pulling the plushie from the bag and handing it over. Cuddling the stuffed cat close to his chest, Minho looked up with sparkling eyes and mumbled: “Tank chu, Binnie-hyung.”

Changbin and Seungmin took Chan back home with them after saying good bye to Minho and Jisung. The rapper gently helped the little to change out of the hospital into his own clothes, making sure to pull the bottle and tubing through the sleeve first and guiding Minho’s hand, so he wouldn’t mess with the IV. The energy and excitement, that had fueled the dancer while the other members were present, soon ebbed away and the exhaustion that had brought him into the current situation caught up to him. “Is there someone sleepy?”, Jisung cooed, running a hand through the little’s hair. Minho gave a small nod, yawning widely while he rubbed a fist against his eye: “Wan’ cuddle Jiji.” – “Okay baby, scoot over a bit”, the rapper requested, climbing under the blanket too, “Here, hold on to Soori, she wants cuddles too.” Clutching the plushie, the little snuggled up against his caregiver, who pulled a paci from the bag and slipped it between the little’s lips. “Go to sleep, kitten. Hyungie will sing for you, ok?”, Jisung hummed, he was hoping Minho would be able to catch up on the sleep he was lacking, “Good night, little one.”

#sick #sickfic #little #little space #agere #age regression #headspace #fanfic #fanfiction #skz #stray kkids #fluff #comfort #whump #lee know #lee minho #han jisung #minsung #hospital

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happytsukki · 5 years ago

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common sense

k. tsukishima

you were a fool. but only for tsukishima. (f! reader)

a/n: ive been reading the manga and chapters 370+ literally have me bawling, im so emotionally attached. also fun fact you cant get your drivers license in japan till you graduate high school,,big rip for (y/n) and her food.

someone with common sense would’ve ran home to avoid the predicted forecast. they would’ve enjoyed safely arriving home without getting a single drop of rain on their uniform. but you lacked common sense.

the steady beat of raindrops hitting the ground accompanied by a strong gust of wind greeted you as you exited the school. you stood waiting, a bright green umbrella painted with purple triceratops in one hand while you rocked back and forth on your heels.

“what are you still doing here?” a voice suddenly asked, snapping you out of your trance. looking up you locked eyes with tsukishima causing a champagne pink hue to creep onto your cheeks.

“oh, i-uh, knew you didn’t have an umbrella, so i figured i would wait for you and we could walk together,” you beamed. tsukishima rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses, but you swore you could see the corners of his lips curl up.

you knew tsukishima. you knew he hated the rain and deep down, he appreciated your kind gesture even if he didn’t say it.

he grabbed the umbrella in your hand and opened it outside the safety of the building. he took two steps into the rain before turning around to realize you were still frozen on the steps of karasuno high. there you were, an idiot shivering from head to toe in the cold weather, yet you still had a smile painted across your face.

“are you gonna just stand there or are you actually coming?” he muttered, his eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion.

“coming!!” you cooed before running down the steps and practicing colliding with him as you pressed closer to him under the tiny umbrella. maybe you should’ve packed a bigger umbrella, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

you walked in unison, small drops falling onto your sweater as you could barely fit under the umbrella with the beanpole. you took notice of one hand tucked away in the warmth of his jacket and the other clutching the umbrella for the two of you. and with your warm gloves, you placed a hand over his.

“sorry, your hand seemed a little cold” you blurted out, slightly afraid he would take his hand away in disgust. but he didn’t, he let you hold his hand. you could finally release the breath you were holding and smiled. rainy days never felt good. the sky may have been dark and gloomy, but being with him felt as if it was another spring day, the sun beaming brightly and the birds chirping.

your walk consisted of asking tsukishima about his volleyball club season and him asking about your classes. you wanted to amuse him, to hear his laugh just once, so you told him the story of how you went to school thinking you math test only to find it was actually an english test, receiving a grade no higher than your age.

and miraculously, he laughed. it was subtle and quiet, but it took away your breath and made your heart race.

tsukishima halted, finally arriving at his home. he glanced up at the sky before catching it slowly transform from a color to a baby blue.

“it stopped raining—“ you cut him off midsentence, grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him closer before you placed a quick peck on his lips.

“bye!” you shouted as you ran away. leaving poor tsukishima standing there, dumbfounded as to why his heart was beating so fast and why his knees turned into complete jelly.

you liked tsukishima. and luckily, he liked you too.

someone with common sense would’ve finished their homework and took advantage of a night free of worry. they would’ve enjoyed a full eight hours of sleep while dreams danced through their mind. but you lacked common sense.

the kitchen clock read 2:18, you were growing impatient waiting for cookies in the oven. before your crazy attempt to make lunches and treats for the entire karasuno team, you studied for your history test and finished a 10-page essay due the next day.

with your apron stained with all sorts of condiments and food, you glanced at the pile of bento boxes placed on your dining table. each decorated with a name of every player on karasuno’s mens volleyball club, of course including the cutest managers and best coaches.

the lunch box on top, reading my tsukki, my moon made with extra love and care for you boyfriend.

tomorrow was the miyagi prefectural qualifiers and as much as you wanted to be there, you had school. you longed to be in the crowds, screaming for tsukki and karasuno at the top of your lungs. so of course, you felt guilty for not being able to give your support. an alternative? food.

beep beep. the timer of the oven finally went off and you breathed a sigh of relief. you weren’t sure how long you could keep your eyelids open. your tiredness must’ve gotten to your head because without a second thought you opened the oven and reached for the scorching pan.

you spewed a variety of curses quietly in an attempt to not wake your parents, but the pain was intolerable. after taking the cookies out with the opposite hand, throwing them in a container and trying to type out ‘how to deal with burns’ with your pinky while one hand held ice (not a good idea) to the burn— you fell asleep on the couch.

not even 3 hours later, you woke up. oh the things i do for this boy. you shook your head, a smile creeping onto your face just thinking about him. you quickly throw on a hoodie and carefully place the food into a basket attached to your bike.

the sun had barely come up, just peeking from the horizon. it was way too early. riding your bike to karasuno while you rubbed your eyes constantly and yawned nonstop was a challenge. you almost tipped over several times. but once you arrived you were greeted by a horde of “hey it’s y/n!!” but the only thing you could really hear was “y/n what are you doing here?”

“well, good morning to you too, tsukki,” you chirped, taking the food out of your basket and carefully distributing it to everyone.

“wow y/n, you really didn’t have to do this.” daichi said. “but this does look amazing.” sugawara butt in, admiring the cute design. “y/n you’re the best, seriously!!” praised hinata, already shoving a small bite into his mouth for a quick ‘taste.’

when you handed tsukki his, confusion and worry came across his face. “but— look at you y/n. you look terrible.” he spat, reaching over to inspect your face. he titled your chin up and pulled your eyes wide.

“is that what you tell your girlfriend after she spent all night to make you lunch?” you pouted, slightly hurt from how he reacted.

“i think y/n looks pretty, like always.” yamaguchi gushed from afar.

“shut up yamaguchi.” “sorry tsukki!!”

“but you know thats not what i meant. i’m just worried about, you look like you haven’t sleep at all.” he shook his head.

“hey! technically i slept for 3 hours.” you argued, earning a signature tsukishima eye roll from the man himself.

“you’re an idiot, y/n. but thank you.” he muttered and placed a kiss on your forehead. suddenly, coach ukai cut in and yelled for everyone to get in the van. groaning, tsukki squeezed you into a hug.

“sorry i can’t be there, but win for me and i’ll be there next match. i promise” you pouted, adding an extra boost of encouragement for tsukishima. these days, you’d noticed how passionate he’d become about the sport and no words could describe your happiness over this.

after waving bye to the team and wishing them the best of luck, you stood alone in the parking lot. happy and excited for what was to come for the karasuno boys volleyball club. but stupid for thinking you could make it through the rest of your day on the mere 3 hours of sleep.

you were an idiot— a fool, perhaps.

someone might as well hand you a jester hat and shoes, bells included, of course. because you were a fool, for tsukishima kei only.

someone with common sense would’ve followed the sign saying “only players allowed on court.” they would’ve yelled praises of encouragement from the stands and just sent a text. but you lacked common sense.

as soon as you saw red liquid ooze from tsukishima’s hand, you hoped out of your seat and grabbed your belongings without hesitation. oh no. your heart sunk and before yachi could even try to calm you down you were already running.

past the crowds and down the stairs leading to the court. you sprinted towards the karasuno team, completely ignoring the officials yelling at you.

you gently pushed through tsukishima’s teammates and an angry expression reached your face once you met eyes with the boy.

“tsukishima kei, are you stupid?” you cursued at him. his face turns a slight pink as his teammates snicker at your typical girlfriend antics. meanwhile, several tournament officials walked over to check on tsukishima’s condition and kick you off the court since you weren’t a player. but you didn’t care. you took his hurt hand into yours, putting your face closer to examine the extent of his injury.

he winced in pain causing your anger to melt away. “you almost gave me a heart attack, you have no idea how worried i was up th-“ you blab on before tsukishima reassures you.

“y/n i’m still breathing, right? you care about me that much huh?” tsukishima smirked as he tried to hide the pain he felt in his right hand.

“okay lovebirds, why don’t you go to the medical office together and get it checked out? we’re going to need you back on the court, tsukishima.” coach ukai quickly sends the two of you away in hopes of him returning by the fifth set.

akiteru and yachi anxiously follow as you and tsukishima rush to the medical office. they wait outside and the doctor tells you two that only his pinky is discolated and the rest of his fingers are fine, so he can still return but he has to wait for the bleeding to stop. the doctor excuses himself to get more bandages, leaving the two of you alone.

you stand up from your seat to stand in front of tsukishima. his face is serious, clearly still fixated on the game still going on at the moment. you wanted to give him peace but you couldn’t hold in how proud you were.

you go on to explain how amazed you were. “and when you jumped up to block, i knew ushijima had no chance— then BOOM! his spike goes straight down into the floor. i think i broke yachi’s eardums with my screaming. not to mention how hot you looked out there like what the hell??” you gushed, making tsukishima smile amidst his pain.

he pulled you in closer and wrapped his long arms around your torso, tucking his face into the comfort of your neck. like muscle memory, your hand finds its way to his back and began to rub circles.

“you’re really sweaty, tsukki. its kinda gross.” you whisper into his hear making him click his tongue in response. but despite the perspiration dripping down his back, you honestly didn’t mind.

tsukishima pulls away, his eyes wander around your face. his breath hitching at your every feature, especially at how your eyes possessed a unique twinkle that didn’t just resemble stars but the entire galaxy. then he remembers the day he fell in love with you, that day you walked home together in the rain.

“god y/n, you’re crazy you know that, right? but i love you.” he chuckles. “i know.” you proudly state while you try to hide the fact that your heart was physically hurting from how fast it was beating. “and i-“ you sprinkle a dozen kisses all over tsukishima’s face. one for eveything you loved about him.” love you too, kei” you say before pressing your swollen lips against his.

“now go out there and beat shiratorizawa’s ass!”

and that’s exactly what he does.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu writing #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #anime scenarios #anime imagines

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lucas-koh · 4 years ago

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC IV

As always please go and read parts 1-3 if you haven’t yet, the link is in my bio to the tumblr masterlist as well as Ao3.

Doesn’t exactly follow canon, but elements of canon. FWB.

Song: Late Night Feelings - Mark Ronson, Lykke Li

Rating: M; implied sex, swearing, sexual language

Word Count: 3457

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela

Chapter Four: Late Night Feelings

Grappling with the doorknob, she realised that it wasn’t going to open. Suki cursed herself for having locked the door earlier. So much for trying to keep partygoers out of there. Reluctantly removing her lips from Bryce’s, she turned around so she could see the lock, even if it was spinning a little.

Bryce took this opportunity to pull her backside tight to his body, swiping hair from her neck so he could kiss down it. They were soft kisses but left tingles in each spot he sucked on, warm and gently bruising. At each spot Suki could still feel his lips there, even though he’d moved to another location on her neck. She wanted to reach a hand back to tangle through those sun-streaked, soft, strands of hair. To encourage him to keep going. But if she wanted this to continue she would have to get the door unlocked.

“Bryce…” she whispered a laugh, grappling her hand towards her back pocket, “my key’s in here.” She slid her hand between their bodies to slip out the key, grazing Bryce’s thigh on the way.

He let out a quiet moan of complaint, but kept slowly sucking at the underside of her jaw. His soft kisses and tight hold were leaving her absolutely breathless. After struggling with the lock for longer than either of them wanted to wait, and a few cuss words, Suki was able to push open the door to her bedroom. Almost as soon as the door creaked open Suki turned back around to lock her lips with his again, pushing her hands flat against his pecs. The door closed automatically behind them, causing a louder slam than expected and a little jump from the two interns. Nevertheless, they continued to kiss their way back towards the bed.

Suki broke apart just before they reached the mattress, slipping off her shoes ever so slowly. Bryce followed, but watched hungrily, desperate for contact once more.

She pushed him back on the bed with one hand, following to climb on top and straddle him. He instinctively brought his hands up to dig into the sides of her thighs. Far too many clothes right now.

“Nice,” he grinned.

“No more talking, Lahela,” she breathed. She placed a finger to rest it on his mouth in a ‘shushing’ motion, where he gave it a cheeky lick. She laughed at the action but didn’t move.

“Not a peep,” he winked, pulling her finger from his face and using his grip on her hand and thigh to flip her over so he was on top. Entwining their lips again, Bryce teased his fingers up the hem of her top, feeling the warm contractions of her stomach as they kissed. Suki’s hands lightly grazed Bryce’s neck, keeping him where she wanted him.

Suki spun them around again so she was once again straddling Bryce. His hands found their space on the outsides of her thighs once more. She pulled her top over her head, earning a low whistle and chuckle from him. Then she started to pull Bryce’s top over his head, each tug revealing a new ab muscle. Bryce moved his arms above him to let her undress him, all the while regarding her with the smuggest grin ever.

“I can see why that patient called you Ken Doll…” Suki breathed out as she traced her fingers over the contours of his chest. He really looked like he’d been taken straight out of a Calvin Klein advert.

“I thought we weren’t talking?”

“Shut up,” she laughed, forcing him to be quiet by attacking his lips with hers again. They scrambled around with their trousers as they kissed, clumsy and desperate.

Soon enough they were in their underwear and touching all over each other’s bodies. At feeling her lacy underwear, Bryce wondered if maybe she’d known something would happen. He pulled her off him momentarily.

“Hey, you okay with this?”

“Yeah. You?”

He grinned wolfishly like the fact she’d even asked was ridiculous. Then they rejoined and continued on into the night, mulling in their pleasures and ecstasies.

—-

The next morning Suki’s eyes creaked open with difficulty as though she was peeling back a sticky label. She’d slept through the night fully with no interruptions. There was a heavy weight over her waist, and something pressing into her back. Light breaths tickled and warmed her neck.

Ah. Suki remembered the nights events, and sure enough, as she looked down ever so slightly, she saw the large rough hand draped over her body was a deep honey-coloured, highlighted by the sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains. She could see in her head the way it held her last night, gripping at her waist, digging into her thighs, and running itself through its owner’s soft gold-streaked hair. Nice. She echoed his own words from before.

Suki had done many one-night-stands before, so she wasn’t bothered with the fact they’d slept together. And after all, she had bagged the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on, and she hadn’t been drunk enough that she couldn’t remember everything they’d done in the dim witching hours. She could definitely recall the way he’d held her, his hot kisses, the stars he’d made her see. Only, he’d stayed the night. They worked together. They had weird history. What if he expected more? More than Suki could give him. She didn’t have time for feelings or dating, her job was her life now. She wasn’t even sure she was capable of feelings these days, it had been years since she’d been in a relationship.

But maybe she needn’t worry; Bryce was a perpetual flirt after all. In fact, of course she was being silly, of course he wouldn’t expect more. She’d known the guy, like, a month. Well, unless you counted their singular meeting at college. This was just what it said on the tin: a no-feelings, fucking amazing one-night-stand. She sighed in relief, slowly attempting to edge her body away from Bryce’s.

Suki felt Bryce stir behind her, grunting quietly. The bed creaked slightly as he moved. Her stomach contracted with nerves at the thought of him waking up. Okay, so they’d done some things last night – there was a LOT of looking and touching - but that didn’t stop the fact that Suki was cringing at the thought of Bryce seeing her naked that morning. That was just who she was. It didn’t matter that she saw other naked people at work all the time, but the fact that it was her own body in the sober light of day was different. Intimate. She cradled her comforter over her chest the best she could, trying to dispel the nerves from her head. It doesn’t matter. He saw it all last night, anyway. He more than saw it…

Another grunt from Bryce caused Suki to jump; she’d definitely woken him now. She tensed as though she could see his eyes blinking open behind her.

“Good morning,” Bryce said, his voice gruff and scratchy, his first words of the day settling on Suki’s ears. Well, unless they were working on technicalities, of course. She could practically see the smirk on his face, despite facing away from him.

Composing herself, Suki turned to lie on her back so that she could see his face, all the while clutching the sheets around her body. Bryce’s hand had remained loosely around her waist, but as she’d turned he’d brought it back into himself. There he drew shapes on the mattress, controlled yet elegant. Suki thought once again how Bryce would use that hand in surgery, steady and artful.

“Hi.”

The streak of light from the curtain was now drawing a line across Bryce’s right eye, down his straight nose, and over the undulations of his plump peach lips. His hair was scruffy, truly sex hair. The smirk which she was now convinced was a natural expression washed over his face, white teeth baring lightly at the movement. If there was ever a man fit to play an ancient God, it was Bryce Lahela. But, like, the rugged, bad boy God. And if Suki was honest with herself, he looked absolutely delectable, and she wanted to take another bite.

“Hi? Have I left you speechless?”

“No, Bryce. That’s how people greet each other.”

He snorted, but didn’t retaliate. They laid for a minute, Bryce drawing circles on the mattress in front of him and looking directly at Suki, and Suki staring at the ceiling above her, trying not to stare at sexy Hades.

“Well, it might be Sunday but I should still probably get up and ready in case I get a page,” he stretched, pulling his bicep upward with a hand on his head.

“Yeah, of course.”

There was a slightly awkward silence as Suki tried to not watch Bryce pull his black jeans over his gorgeous ass. As he was turned back she pulled on her underwear and a pyjama top which had been ejected from her bed the night before. Suki stepped closer to the door over her bedroom where Bryce was just finishing rolling up the sleeves of his Henley. The Henley she’d peeled off him ab by ab. She raked a hand through her hair, and cleared her throat.

“So, I have four roommates. You’ll have to be really quiet.”

He chuckled. “We weren’t very quiet last night.”

He’d done it again. Suki felt the familiar fire in her cheeks.

“Yes. Well.” She motioned to the door, unsure of what to say. Bryce simply laughed again and put a hand on the doorknob.

He looked back at her bemusedly for a pause before turning the knob and stepping out into the corridor.

Suki caught the door and shut it behind them quietly so as not to wake her roommates. The apartment was eerily quiet, but clean – it was undetectable that they’d had a party the night before. That was, aside from Bryce’s abandoned bin-bag by the sofa.

They got about halfway across the living room when they started to hear a key in the lock.

“Uh…” Suki froze. She couldn’t exactly run back to her bedroom, whoever it was would hear the two sets of footsteps anyway. Bryce shrugged nonchalantly - this didn’t put Suki’s nerves at ease in the slightest.

And then before she’d had time to make a decision, the door swung open. Aurora stood at the threshold, eyes flitting blankly between Suki and Bryce.

“I- uh- had to go and see my aunt at the hospital…help her with a case…” she trailed off, keys loose in her hand as she took in both of their messy hairs and the awkward gap between their bodies. Aurora also noted that Bryce was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing last night before she’d had to run off. She knew exactly what was going on here.

Suki’s eyes darted between Bryce and Aurora, wanting the ground to swallow her whole.

Bryce just watched Suki squirm with a shit-eating grin, arms crossed in a relaxed way across his broad chest.

It felt like the silence went on for hours.

“Shame you missed the party,” Bryce eventually broke the silence, winking at Aurora. She smiled sadly, and finally stepped into the apartment, leaving the door open for Bryce.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun.”

Bryce snorted, once again staring at Suki who was very pointedly avoiding his gaze. He walked over towards the door to begin to leave. He stopped for a minute, looking at the two girls again.

“Thanks for the sex,” he grinned with a wink, starting to saunter away from the doorway. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

Christ. That was the third time now she’d felt inconsolably embarrassed because of Bryce Lahela. Not counting the many small spells. The door banged shut and Suki wished it would shut out the awkward encounter, too.

Suki turned slowly to Aurora, whose face was even more shocked than it had been before. She gave an embarrassed little smile, and what was meant to be a nonchalant shoulder shrug. Instead she ended up looking like an un-oiled robot.

Would she ever catch a break? Her little moments of fun with Bryce all seemed to have ended in someone else walking in and embarrassing her. She wasn’t even sure what she could say to Aurora. She didn’t really want to talk about it, but she didn’t want Aurora telling the others either.

As if she was reading her mind, Aurora said: “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Suki smiled gratefully at her friend, who looked tired from her night. So her worries now were not only on the accidental fact that she and Bryce were apparently not sly at all, but also at her friend for missing their awaited party and having to work all evening. And then coming home to find a semi-strange man in the apartment.

But even more so than her worries, Suki’s thoughts turned to Bryce’s departing words. Had he meant that? He wanted to do it again?

Yes. Yes he had.

—-

The next week Suki was caught first and foremost by Bryce after a night at Donohue’s. Their electricity whirred back up again like a generator coming to life as soon as they’d interacted again. And then they had a few drinks, inhibitions were lowered, and once again sexual desire took over. The roommates left early that night, but Suki and Bryce had stayed. They had stumbled into Bryce’s apartment attached and stayed that way for the rest of the night. Suki left before sunrise, she didn’t want to risk a repeat of their first time, her body couldn’t take getting so embarrassed again.

Over the next few weeks, Bryce and Suki thrice stole moments here and there, and as the moments grew more frequent, they became less careful. The thing was, that was the only time they’d see each-other. Small-talking in the halls or joining the other for lunch or coffee wasn’t something either of them were interested in.

“Just sex, right?” She’d asked him sheepishly as she pulled her scrub trousers back up the first time in the on-call room.

“Just sex. I’m sure neither of us have time to deal with any more than that. Just a reliable relaxation method.”

The third time, Bryce ambushed Suki in the corridor and pulled her into an empty room. It was getting frantic as the work and pressure piled up on them both, and they were hooking up at least once a week. Third work-hookup, third week. Bryce had started to kiss down her neck and tug at the hem of her trousers before she could wrap her head around it. She’d told herself she wouldn’t do this so quasi-publically again to avoid combusting if anyone found out; but he was there, and she wanted him more than anything. Jesus Suki, sort yourself out.

She had to admit to herself that this would be their fifth time, and thoughts about a one night stand were long dissipated.

Just as their makeout was getting heated and Suki’s hands were grabbing at the bottom of Bryce’s top for him to remove it, there was a knock at the door. A knock.

“Shit…” Suki mumbled, breaking away from Bryce. She pointed to the cupboard on the corner of the room, “get in.”

“In there??”

“Yes!” She whisper-shouted, shoving him towards the cupboard. He climbed in, eyeing her with disdain, and Suki smoothed herself down before going to answer the door.

“Oh!” He was surprised. It was the same nurse Suki recognised had been talking to Sienna at the housewarming party, holding a chart. He craned his neck around the room, seeing it was empty. “Oh, sorry. I thought my patient was in here. I must’ve read it wrong.”

“No problem,” Suki smiled, “I was just taking a breather.”

The nurse nodded kindly and left back out of the door.

Bryce burst out of the cupboard, looking a little put-out, but humour still painted over his face.

“Really?” He asked.

“Well, did you want another situation?”

He laughed and it echoed off the walls of the hospital room.

“I think I need to change my scrub top,” he smiled, lifting it up on one side where there was a large rip through it.

“How did that happen?”

“Coat hanger. Kind of backed into it.”

“Okay.” She said.

—-

Suki wasn’t sure why she was following Bryce to the changing rooms, but she was. He kept looking back, amused, as she moseyed behind him down the corridors.

When they finally reached the staff changing rooms, Suki looked round to check they were free, and began to speak behind him.

“Um… I think maybe we should work out some rules. Draw up a kind of list.”

“Seems a little much, don’t you think? For two people who just sleep together sometimes?”

“Nuh-uh, that’s three times now this has been a problem, that we’ve been caught in some kind of compromising position. We need to make rules so that we don’t break them. To keep this as straight and simple as it can be. If we’re going to do this, that is. You can back out any time.”

“You think I’m going to turn down free no-strings-attached sex with an incredibly attractive doctor? You’re insane,” he chuckled, “Okay, so I’m guessing number one is be a little more discriminating with our when’s and where’s?”

“Number one should be no work-place hook ups period.”

He blew air from his mouth like a fish. “Damn, Santa Fe. I suppose I’ll have to agree. We need to focus here, no distractions. I can’t be sneaking off with you if I want to stay the best surgeon at Edenbrook.”

Suki rolled her eyes playfully at his cockiness. Him agreeing to make this little arrangement official was a relief to Suki, though. Now she could concentrate on work and had an itch-scratcher on call. One who knew what he was doing.

“Okay. Number two – we don’t stay the night. It gets messy, I don’t need Aurora to catch you again.”

“There’s no one to catch you sneaking out at my place,” he grinned smugly.

“Bryce.”

“You’re right, it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Hold on,” Suki pulled her phone out of her locker, fiddling about on it for a moment. “I need this written down for posterity.”

He laughed at her thoroughness, but didn’t protest.

“We should have a signal, too. If we’re with other people or over text,” he suggested.

“That works. What sort of signal?”

“An ‘I want to have sex’ signal.”

“Yeah, I got that much. But what should it be?”

Bryce tapped his chin in thought. “What about touching your nose with your middle finger.”

“…what?”

“You know,” he demonstrated for her, “like that.”

She shook her head at him disdainfully, restraining herself from mimicking his actions.

“Fine, if that’s all you can think of. I suppose it’s both random and believable enough as a normal sort of movement. For texting we could use the nose emoji.”

Bryce threw his head back in a laugh. “Sexy.”

“Hey, it was your idea! Anyway, it kind of looks… phallic. In ways.”

Bryce pressed his hands together like he was praying and placed them on his mouth, thumbs supporting his chin, and shook his head slowly. He could not believe she’d just said that. After regaining composure, he added:

“Alright, how about: no drunk texting for a hook-up unless we know the other is also drunk, because it’s not gonna happen.”

“Of course, goes without saying.”

“Always gotta check.”

“No hickeys. No visible marking of any kind.”

Bryce chuckled under his breath as he remembered the opportunities he’d had to mark her, her neck muscles bobbing up and down.

“Agreed.”

“So this isn’t an exclusive thing, of course – you can sleep with whoever you want – but I’m going to need proof you’re clean if you have been going around,” she crossed her arms over her chest, all business.

“I’m a Doctor, what do you think of me?”

“Yeah, and all those douchebags at med school are probably doctors too, now.”

“Point taken. You can trust me, I’ll provide proof if necessary.”

“Likewise.” Suki knew she wouldn’t very likely be sleeping with anyone else, she wouldn’t actually have a chance to meet anyone really. But she didn’t want to rule out the possibility.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing I can think of, but we should be willing to add stuff on.”

He nodded. Suki tapped away at her phone for a few minutes, sorting out the list.

“I’m gonna need your number, scalpel boy.”

He winked exaggeratedly at this. “Oh?”

“To send you the list, obviously.”

#open heart fic #bryce lahela #open heart #bryce x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices open heart #oph #choices: open heart #bryce lahela fic #bryce lahela fanfiction #bryce lahela x mc #dr bryce lahela #open heart bryce #choices fic rec #choices: stories you play #choices #playchoices fanfic #playchoices open heart #playchoices

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bauslut · 4 years ago

Text

as you are | v.

word count: 4.390k

warnings: cursing, sexual innuendos, angst, some arguing, references to murder, discussion of serial killers, references to violences, nc-17

a/n: hello! this is the fifth chapter of my hotch fic ! i’ve been putting a lot of work into this, so all feedback is appreciated !!! <33 let me know if you owuld like to be tagged :)) chapters three and four are linked below ! i hope you guys enjoy !!!

| iii. | iv. |

(i don’t own this gif)

ding.

the quiet chime of the elevator echoed through the compact space as the doors slid open. a brunette stood, her thumbs gliding across a dimly lit screen, her brow furrowed in concentration, teeth gnawing on the inside of her cheek,

aaron hotchner stepped forward, nudging the brunette as he swiveled on his heel, “good morning.”

today, she was clad in a pair of black skinny jeans, the denim hugging the fullness of her thighs. on her top half, she bore a simple black sweater, the texture a cable-knit stitch. the neckline was a v-neck, cutting down only inches above her breasts. she wore her hair down, the locks falling lazily, sweeping along her shoulders.

“morning,” aaron’s lips parted as his gaze wandered, admiring her for just a moment, “i like your sweater.”

“i bet you like the hickeys too.”

aaron’s gaze traveled to her collarbone, the deep burgundy marks painting her pale complexion, scattered in a line, starting from her collarbone and flowing well into the hem of her sweater. a thin layer of powder concealed the severity of the plum and crimson tones, but they weren’t concealed. a blush spread, cheeks a slight tinge pink. yet, his lips curved into a smug smirk, satisfaction coursing through his veins.

he left those marks on her.

and he more than pleased that it was his doing.

“i sure do,” his voice was light, laced with a tease, “you look beautiful today, rowan.”

her head tilted up, a broad grin enveloping her features, “thank you. you look quite--”

the elevator whirred to a halt, the doors opening once more. aaron cleared his throat, dipping his head, “after you.”

dozens of eyes fixated on the pair as they strode from the elevator. morgan and garcia were gathered around the printer, their conversation ceasing as rowan and hotch strolled over to their respective desks, the door of hotch’s office nearly slamming shut. jj was perched at her own desk, springing to her feet the moment hotch’s blind’s were drawn. reid, nose deep in a novel, set the book down, spinning around in his chair to face rowan. prentiss and rossi sauntered over to the young agent’s desk, eyes blazing with curiosity, eager to bombard with a flurry of questions.

“so,” rossi took a sip of his coffee, “how was babysitting little hotch?”

“it was fine,” rowan shrugged, “i mean, hotch’s apartment is pretty cold and bare, a little like him. but jack was so sweet. maybe he takes after his mother. by the way, was hotch a little distressed yesterday? he seemed really tense when i spoke with him on the phone.”

“hotch was thinking about you all day!” garcia chirped, her head bobbing with every word, “god, he was so fucking distraught because you weren’t there. and the amount of times he called you just to check in? ugh he was so--”

“he was really worked up,” prentiss exhaled, “and part of that was our fault. we were tormenting him and we’re sorry.”

“why were you guys teasing--”

“he even lied about you babysitting jack,” morgan remarked, butting in, “when we met in the conference room to discuss the case, he kept saying your name while he was on the phone. we all heard but he was playing it off like you were some ‘shannon’ or something.”

“oh?” rowan arched a brow, “why would he lie--”

“wait,” jj stuck out a hand, her eyes flickering towards rowan’s neck, “is that what i think that is?”

as the pairs of eyes followed jj’s line of sight, rowan shifted uncomfortably, swallowing a lump in her throat, “it’s not what--”

“is that a hickey?” rossi licked his lips, “how in the world did you receive a hickey whilst babysitting? does jack have a biting problem or something?”

“maybe it was big hotch,” garcia stated, prodding morgan, “not the little one, of course. that would’ve been weird if jack bit her.”

morgan glanced over to hotch’s office, folding his arms across his chest, then returned his focus to rowan, “don’t tell me that he paid you by--”

“i-it was nothing like that,” rowan stammered, tripping over her words, “i stayed at the hotchner residence until aa-hotch returned home from the case. then i promptly went home.”

“so why was your car parked at an open area?” garcia pressed, “when you didn’t come in yesterday morning, i pulled up your location on the gps of your car. it said you were at the park off north and second.”

“that was a halfway point for hotch and i to meet,” rowan bit her tongue, cheeks flushed, “i live forty minutes from here. he didn’t want me to drive.”

“that’s pretty generous for a man like hotch,” morgan mused, “i don’t believe a single word coming from your mouth rivers, i hope you know that.”

“if you guys want the truth,” rowan huffed, “i blacked out the other night, was so hungover i could barely move, and hotch told me he needed a babysitter. i took up the offer because i felt horrible that i couldn’t come in. now, are you guys satisfied or are you going to keep pestering me about a hickey like some stupid high schoolers?”

prentiss inhaled a sharp breath, poised for a retort when a door swinging open startled the mass huddled around the desk, “what is going on here?”

“we were just asking rivers if she was okay sir,” prentiss responded, her tone cool, voice smooth.

“i’m afraid that we don’t have the time or resources for gossip,” hotch snorted, hands grasping the railing, “everyone, back to your desks this instant. rivers, i need to speak with you in my office.”

“now sir?”

“now,” his voice rang through the office, eyes hardened into a fiery glare.

a shudder coursed through rowan as she rose to her feet, shuffling towards his office. the team giggled as they retreated to their desks, unfazed by hotch’s statement. every step was agonizing under his intense stare, the agent nearly cowering in her boots.

yet, the second she was in the office with the door shut, his hands were on hers, intertwining their fingers together. his touch tender, voice lowered to a quiet whisper, “are you okay?”

“besides the relentless teasing i’m fine,” rowan muttered, careful to avoid eye contact.

“welcome to my world for the past twenty four hours,” fingertips brushed her forehead, “i was more concerned if you had a headache or not. i’ve noticed they flare up when you’re anxious or under stress.”

“if this is what’s going to happen every time i watch jack then i’m not doing it anymore.” she mumbled, breaking away from his touch.

muttering a strand of words, hotch crossed over to his desk, “i mean, you’re not his designated babysitter anyway. you were drunk and i came and got you the night before. nothing more to it. it’s not happening again, anyway.”

rowan flinched, shocked at the venomous barb laced in his words, “but i would miss my new friend, he’s a really good kid, aaron. he’s so sweet. he reminds me of you.”

aaron hotchner nearly cracked, demeanor nearly crumbling down in that moment.

but he couldn’t. not here. not now.

clearing his throat, his voice hardened, edged with authority, “it would be best for the both of us if it never happened again.”

“but--” she pleaded, desperate to break him down. to reason with him.

yet, the damage was already done.

the unit chief slumped in his chair, not budging one bit, “no. we can’t do that again, okay? it wouldn’t end well.”

tears sprang into rowan’s eyes, her lower lip trembling, “i-i was thinking that i would stay behind with garcia today. after all, i don’t deserve to travel anyways. i lied about a sick day.”

hotch’s head snapped up, pure shock plastered across his features, “rowan it was okay that you--”

“i’m staying behind.”

david rossi sat on the edge of spencer reid’s desk, toying with a pencil, focused on the scene unfolding in aaron hotchner’s office. emily prentiss lurked nearby, pacing back and forth.

“what could they possibly be talking about?”

“from the look of it, it’s not pretty,” rossi remarked, letting out a sigh, “i think they’re arguing. she’s standing a few feet away from his desk. he seems agitated. his jaw is clenched and he has that little glare when he’s upset.”

morgan took a swig of coffee, “maybe he didn’t use a condom,”

“oh stop,” penelope swatted him with a stack of papers.

“no,” rossi shook his head, “trust me, if aaron hotchner got laid, he would look a lot happier than he is right now.”

“do you really think that they hate another?” garcia whined, lips curving into a pout as she nuzzled her head against morgan’s shoulder, earning a peck on the forehead.

“no. there’s this fondness in his eyes when he looks at her. it tells me everything that i need to know.”

“but rowan is far too intelligent for him,” reid butt in, his book thudding against the wood.

“i don’t think so,” rossi countered, “because i’m pretty sure if she was as smart as you say she is, she wouldn’t fall for a man twice her age. a man who’s going through a messy divorce, at th--”

the door of the office opened, rowan’s lower lip trembling, eyes tinged red with tears. garcia perked up, rossi remaining on the edge of desk, folding a piece of paper. the team was silent as rowan approached them, the brunette sniffling.

“garcia,” the technical anaylst’s name was a broken whimper, “uh, hotch wants me to stay behind with you today.”

“don’t tell me he’s punishing you--” rossi began, swiftly interrupted by garcia.

“okay honey bunny,” garcia chirped, shooting rossi a glare, “i’ll even let you borrow my chair. it’s a little bit more comfy than the others.”

“hey guys,” jj greeted, arms loaded with a stack of manila folders, “i just received the call minutes ago. a department in washington invited us onto a case. we’re about to meet in the conference room.”

garcia wrapped a comforting arm around rowan’s shoulder, “come on love, let’s go meet with the others.”

letting out a shaky breath, rowan followed the rest of the team, mustering every last bit of strength to not crack. to not shed another tear. yet, as she entered the conference room, she could practically feel the heat embedded within his burning stare.

“god,” his breath was hot against her neck, teeth grazing the flesh, “you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

“a-aaron,” his name dripped from her lips as her fingers laced into his hair, tugging at the roots, “aaron, please, god. don’t stop.”

her back was to the couch, his body hovering over hers, one hand underneath her shirt, resting on her hip, the pad of his thumb brushing the hem of her jeans. every single part of her was hot to the touch, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering, jaw slack as his mouth roamed, savoring every inch of her with his tongue.

“you like this, don’t you?” he smirked against her skin, “you like when i leave my mark, don’t you baby?”

“god yes,” her nod was meek as he sucked harshly, “p-please don’t stop, aaron.”

“i won’t,” he was panting now, riled up from the heat of the moment, adrenaline pumping through his veins, “i won’t fucking stop.”

“rivers,” her name was spat out, cruel and unforgiving, “do i need to send you home? pay attention.”

blinking, rowan swallowed thickly, cheeks flushing as she noticed the pairs of orbs trained on her, “sorry.”

“jerk,” garcia rolled her eyes, the mutter barely audible.

aaron continued speaking, discussing the parameters of travel, along with some brief victimology of the murderers. propping her head up with her hand, rowan doodled a few scribbles on the file, completely oblivious to any word flooding her ears, her mind wandering to the memory.

“wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced, flicking his wrist to check the time, “and rivers, i would like to speak with you.”

“i’m all ears,” the agent exhaled, not breaking away from the doodles as the team filed out from the space, a vicious banter rising among them.

the unit chief slid into the seat beside her, his hand inching closer and closer to her forearm, “are you okay?”

the brunette recoiled away from his touch, her tone icy cold, “i’m fine.”

“you’re more than welcome to join us,” his voice was gentle, “you don’t have to punish yourself for what happened yesterday. really, it’s fine that you babysat jack. i was more than happy you accepted the offer, actually.”

the brunette didn’t utter a single word, only leaping to her feet. pushing the chair in, she avoided any eye contact, gaze focused on the floor, boots thudding against the surface with every step.

“well, i already promised garcia that i would be front and center for today. sorry, but i’m going to decline the offer, hotch. thanks though.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“so what’s up with you?”

aaron hotchner drew in a deep breath, throwing his head against the leather, “morgan, i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“all right mr. dark and brooding over there,” prentiss’ voice was light with a mocking tone as she flipped through a page in a magazine, “you look like you saw someone step on a puppy.”

hotch’s left eye twitched, “i’m upset because we’re missing a member of the team.”

“i don’t think you normally act this way when i’m sick.” a smug smirk painted morgan’s lips as he wrapped headphone cords around his phone, “but perhaps i’m not as important as rivers.”

“yeah, what about the time spencer was shot?” rossi interjected, drumming his fingers along the armrest, “you didn’t seem nearly as distraught then. the poor kid was shot in the damn leg.”

“i was distraught--”

morgan snickered, taking a bite of a granola bar, “it’s okay to admit you miss rowan, loverboy. we can all tell.”

“we know you like her, hotch,” jj cut in, her voice smooth with satisfaction.

“she’s annoying.”

aaron almost couldn’t believe the scene that was unfolding before him.

his team, people he’s worked with for years, people he’s grown to love and care for, were teasing him over a coworker. people who loved to dish out snide and crude remarks constantly to one another but rarely to him, were beginning to catch on. they were nagging him over a coworker.

a cute coworker, at that.

a cute coworker who he was beginning to fall for, at that.

“annoyingly cute,” rossi clasped his hands together, eyes alight with laughter.

“david rossi, so help me god, i will land this jet myself,” he growled, clutching the armrest with an iron grip, “and when i land this jet, i’ll write all of you up for insubordination.”

“oh? he’s getting defensive now guys, so i must be pushing all the right buttons,” rossi called to the others, earning an eruption of laughter.

the agent clambered out of his seat, crossing the aisle to hotch. mocha-colored orbs bore into his suit, rossi plucking a strand of hair off the shoulder, inspecting it in the light, “i didn’t know you were a brunette.”

aaron flinched, his heart lurching in his chest, “t-that belongs to jack.”

“the kid is fucking blonde!” prentiss retorted, setting the magazine down on her lap.

“why don’t you just admit to us that you like her?” morgan pressed, eagerly anticipating hotch’s response.

“i don’t know what you guys are talking about. i can’t stand her,” hotch stumbled over the words, a crimson hue tainting his cheeks.

“i’m sure that’s why you bring her coffee in the morning,” reid remarked, toying with a game of chess.

“i’m sure that’s why you always assign her with you,” prentiss chimed in.

“i’m sure that’s why you started bringing ibuprofen to work,” jj retaliated.

morgan lifted a leg, crossing them together, “and i’m sure that’s why we have a photo of her sleeping on your lap.”

“w-wait, there’s a photo of that?”

“so he admits it happened,” morgan winked to prentiss, who stifled a giggle.

“okay that’s it,” hotch tsked, thrusting an index finger at every single member of his team, “none of you are working on the case. you’re all going to wait in the hotel while i handle it all myself.”

“oh, come on hotch!” prentiss gasped, her magazine falling to the floor.

“i hate to remind you all,” hotch cleared his throat, his tone firm as he spoke, “but we are on a case here. we’re not here to mess around and tease one another. i would appreciate it if you guys weren’t so nosy about my personal life. if i was involved with agent rivers in any way, i would let you guys know. but for now, let’s focus on the case.”

the team fell silent, returning to whatever it is that they were all doing. yet, rossi remained unfazed by hotch’s stern words, mouth curved into a mischievous smile, before dealing out one final blow.

“i am well aware of the case we’re on. it’s the investigation of whether or not aaron hotchner harbors romantic feelings for rowan rivers.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

rain pattered against the roof of the police station, a huddle of individuals gathered around a singular white board, aaron hotchner watching intently as dr. reid spoke with the cops, providing a clear and concise profile of the unsub, pointing and referring to crime scene photos and the police sketch of the unsub. hotch was vigilant, composed and cool-headed, ready to speak when necessary.

forks, washington was a quaint town, located off the olympic peninsula. it was a quiet, friendly, place, most commonly known for its deep roots with the logging industry. nothing but endless woods sprawled around the community, making it a perfect location for a serial killer.

there was plenty of space to dump bodies, lots of shrubbery for cover, and little to no interaction with locals. many of them were reserved, not willing to comply with the local police. however, hotch didn’t blame them.

the bau was on hunt to apprehend a serial killer who happened to post his grisly murders online, for thousands upon thousands of viewers to watch. there were even points in time where there was a live feed, the killer masked, clothed in dark fabric. his motive was unclear, as he had no specific type of victim, and his reasoning for posting the killings online was a mystery.

which, made it nearly impossible to even make any progress in the case.

that was until rossi suggested that they fly penelope garcia out to forks. after all, the killer managed to flee his residence after leaking the address. computers was garcia’s niche, where she was most comfortable and knowledgeable.

and that’s why they needed her.

yet, hotch’s mind drifted, wandering to another matter.

it seemed no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he resisted, rowan rivers was on his mind, filling his thoughts.

the memory of their interaction merely hours ago left an awful taste in the unit chief’s mouth. aaron needed rowan in washington, more than she knew. her cool-head, along with quick-wit was a valuable asset to the flow of the team.

god, did he absolutely loathe the image that was permanently burned in his lids. rowan standing in his office, trembling as the tears streamed down her cheeks, pleading for him to reason with her, begging for him to stop while he was ahead. the aspect that haunted him the most was the hurt in her eyes, her voice cracking with every word.

god, did he feel so fucking stupid.

“do you think that they’re on their way yet?” rossi leaned over, the question flooding hotch’s left ear.

“i’m not sure when they’ll arrive,” the unit chief’s attention traveled to the watch on his wrist, “we only called them a couple of hours ago. it’s a long flight from virginia.”

“you’re not wrong about that. i miss the kid, really. do you miss her?”

“is now really the time?” hotch choked back an exasperated sigh, careful not to raise his voice, not to disturb the briefing.

“you miss her,” rossi affirmed, careful not to crack too broad of a smile, “i know you do.”

“you’re just gloating because we needed garcia,” hotch muttered, “and that meant rowan was going to tag along too.”

“you’re just lucky that we happen to have such an amazing technical analyst,” rossi elbowed hotch playfully, “they should be here any minute now. maybe you should greet her first, hmm? do a little bit of kiss and make up?”

“rossi--”

“oh look,” rossi nodded his head towards the entrance of the station, “there they are now.”

the second his eyes fell on her, his heart skipped a beat, breath hitching in his throat.

“excuse me,” hotch stuck out a hand, signaling to the officers and bau members that he was going to step away, “our technical analyst and another agent just arrived. please, continue dr. reid.”

“this place is so dreary,” garcia wrinkled her nose to rowan, whispering.

the comment earned a quiet chuckle from the agent, “it’s washington penelope, what did you expect?”

“well even the inside of the station is just so--”

“good evening,” the unit chief couldn’t help but crack a smile, placing a tender hand on garcia’s shoulder, “how was the flight?”

“boring,” garcia huffed, whirling around, “and this place? absolutely horrid, hotch. there’s not a single splash of color anywhere! it’s just all depressing and dreadful!”

“well you’ll be happy to know that a lot of your work won’t be at the station. already, we have the unsub’s personal laptop. it’s currently at his residence, but we’ll get it to you in the morning.”

“oh thank god,” garcia clutched her chest, “how are things going?”

“babygirl!” a gush sounded from a few feet away.

“excuse me,” garcia beamed, brightening as morgan whistled, “there is a very handsome man waiting for me over there and i feel oh so compelled to greet him.”

rowan’s hands were behind her back, the toe of her right boot drawing lazy circles into the carpet, “hey.”

“hey,” aaron murmured, his hand gravitating towards her shoulder. his thumb flicked back and forth, tracing soothing circles into her shoulder, “are you all right?”

“i wasn’t expecting a trip to washington,” she shrugged slightly, “but i’m here now.”

“we’re finished for the night. reid just delivered the profile to the local p.d.”

“so what now?” rowan inquired, readjusting the strap of her bag.

“dinner and then some sleep,” he replied, noticing the team trickling away from the conference room, heading towards the exit, “we should catch up. they’re about to leave us.”

“oh shit.”

aaron’s brow furrowed as he noticed the strands of hair clinging to her forehead, soaked and dampened, clothes darkened a shade, “did you forget a coat?”

“we were in a rush,” rowan protested, bringing her arms close to her body as a shudder ran through her body, “is it cold to you in here?”

aaron extended an arm, offering her a beige trenchcoat, “here.”

“what?” rowan’s lips parted with shock, “aaron, please. i-i don’t need a--”

“you’re going to catch a cold,” he took a step behind her, draping the coat around her shoulders, “you’re soaking wet and need to warm up.”

“no i won’t,” her mouth fell into a pout, the lower lip jutting out, “aaron please--”

“take it,” his hands grasped her shoulders, his head hovering just beside her ear, “you need it.”

“thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” his mouth drifted upwards, lips merely inches away from her temple, “let’s meet up with the rest of the team.”

the pair made their way out of the station, the hem of aaron’s coat sweeping against the ground as rowan walked, the arms draping against her sides. his hand lingered on her lower back, guiding her towards the chatter of the team as they loaded up the suburbans, discussing god knows what.

“the turtle doves have reunited,” morgan taunted, throwing his bag in the trunk, “a lot of us were talking about the plans for dinner, hotch. we’re thinking about just ordering room service or ordering some pizza.”

“have you seen this place?” rowan piped up, “i don’t think the inn has room service dumbass.”

“my favorite agent has arrived,” rossi strutted up to rowan, holding out his fist, “how was the flight kiddo?”

“i slept the entire time so i feel pretty good,” rowan answered, initiating an intricate handshake with the agent, “really though, what is there to eat around here?”

“i bet hotch has some ideas for dess--” morgan’s voice crescendoed into a grunt as garcia elbowed his side.

“there’s a local diner not too far from here,” reid chimed in, invested in his phone, “i don’t know about you guys, but i’m really craving some key lime pie.”

“i’m with you there!” rowan gushed, “come on guys, let’s go get something to eat.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“so what are we doing for rooms?” rowan turned to rossi, hotch’s coat still draped across her shoulders, “i was hoping that they could squeeze us in for an extra room but it appears that it was too late.”

“well the plan was for reid and i to share a room, then morgan and hotch. the ladies were just going to be with one another. but it seems now that since you and garcia have arrived, there may be a change of plans.”

“are you serious?” the brunette rolled her eyes as garcia slipped into morgan’s room, “don’t fraternization rules exist in the bureau?”

“sometimes,” rossi’s eyes twinkled with amusement, “but not always in the bau.”

“so what now?”

“well,” rossi gestured down the hall, “you have a couple of choices. you can room with the ladies, but you’d have to either sleep on the floor or cram into a bed with one of them. or, you have one other option.”

rowan’s focus shifted as she noticed hotch huddled with morgan and reid, his voice a low murmur, “rossi, please don’t tell me--”

“there is one person you could room with.”

“and who would that be?” the brunette deadpanned, her foot tapping against the carpet, arms folded across her chest.

“the owner of that coat.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

tagged: @sapphicstars @littlevodika @colorlessfl0wers

#hotch #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch x oc #criminal minds fic #bau #hotch fluff #nc-17 #criminal minds au

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babysizedfics · 4 years ago

Note

I need to know about doctor mama lo taking care of a sick baby Virgil if you would like pretty please. I dont wanna ask on the in character blog cuz I feel like it would be weird to ask for details and lo seems kinda busy anyway lol.

hey tumblebee!! yeah yeah lets do this, Im gonna write it so that ppl who dont follow the other blog can understand too

WARNING IF U HAVENT ALREADY BLOCKED THE TAGS ILLNESS TW AND VOMIT TW THEY ARE VERY PREVALENT IN THIS

also this is a VERY long headcanon!!

so last night vee got ill, he had been regressed in the afternoon with patton and he was acting much more fussy than usual - not being entertained by his cartoons, not having the energy to play with his rattle, pretty much constantly whining and pouting and he gets very wriggly when he's fussy

patton assumed it was because vee had been upset earlier that day. at one point vee started gripping his stomach, and patton assumed its because he was hungry and could smell the food roman was cooking

but when dinner came around no matter how hard patton tried he couldnt get vee to eat a morsel - he kept turning his head away from the food and whining. at one point patton and logan both managed to convince him to eat a spoonful but his face crumpled with a wince and it looked almost painful for him to swallow it. it was at this point logan noticed he had a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead

things fell into place quickly after that - logan checked his temperature and it was indeed slightly higher than was healthy, they noticed vee's hands were trembling and he was constantly on the verge of tears :(

while patton cleared away dinner and excused roman who wanted to go and craft in his room, logan took vee to his bedroom and tried to check for more symptoms, since vee was non verbal and unresponsive totheir questions. he tested his tummy by pushing it a little to see if the pain got worse when he released it (this is a test for appendicitis) but there was no reaction thankfully except vee being upset by logan not cuddling him. he checked his throat for any redness or infection, nothing.

vee's crying became more pronounced and eventually he was in constant tears, occassionally pleading 'mama mama' through sniffles and hiccups and whines of pain :(( Patton brought him a baby bottle of cooled tea made with fresh mint leaves since that is supposed to help stomach pains. though he left the room again since logan thought it was best not to crowd virgil. Vee's crying had dissipated but he was strangely silent and seemed almost loopy now. he only drank a little of the tea before he pushed it away with a gag.

logan immediately took him to the bathroom knowing what was coming, and sure enough vee threw up into the toilet, crying between gags. logan dutifully managed to keep vee in his lap the whole time and held his hair and rubbed his back, telling him he was such a good boy the whole time

Thankfully it didnt last long as there wasnt much in vees stomach to be emptied. he was shivering and sweating and flushed and had lost all energy. he wasnt even crying anymore, just whimpering under his breath. with a bit of a struggle logan managed to show him how to rinse his mouth out with mouthwash - though he had to hold vee over the sink and pat his back to make sure he didnt swallow it

during all of this patton wasnt able to help because of his heightened empathy, if he sees someone throwing up the likeihood is he will too and that wiuldnt be very helpful! so instead he drives to the store to pick up some medicine and ice pops - and comes back with half the store including some actual baby medicine smh - ((im actually begging u to read that linked post i think its so funny))

it was originallly meant to be logans night to put roman to bed but understandably patton took on that task instead. after roman was drifting off patton pokes his head into vee's room. he had hoped to find lo and vee asleep but they werent. they were lying in the dark with an in the night garden audio story playing on a portable speaker and with vees salt lamp and star night light lighting up the room in a soft glow.

logan offered a strained little smile and nod to patton as he stroked vee's hair and cuddled him close. vee was completely out of it honestly. his body was wholly lax against his mama, his lips were in a permanent pout and his eyes were puffy and wet. he barely even acknowledged his papa coming in, his teary eyes just settled on him for a moment then dropped back to the bedsheets without a reaction. he kept lifting his thumb up to suck on it but logan kept capturing it and apologising as he brought it away. Vee shouldnt suck on his thumb and logan doesnt want to give him a paci while he's ill. understandably, baby vee was completely miserable.

patton asks if logan thinks vee could handle a popsicle or plain crackers at the moment but logan disagrees. he doesnt expect either of them to get much sleep so he will make sure vee eats something in a few hours. with a gentle kiss on vee's forehead patton goes off to bed, confident that logan will be able to look after vee and will come get him if theres any issues

logan and vee really dont sleep much at all. Vee drifts off for a few minutes at a time then gasps awake from vivid fever dreams. logan keeps ice cubes in a bowl by the bed for vee to suck on if he needs to cool down and wraps a couple in a flannel to press to vee's head when his fever rises in the middle of the night.

around 3am logan jolts awake and realises he had drifted off. and vee isnt anywhere in the room. he panics momentarily, bolting up from the bed and dashing to the closet to see if virgil is in there - which he tends to do when he is overwhelmed - but then he hears sniffling from the bathroom.

he finds vee, no longer regressed, curled up against the side of the bathtub with his bangs clinging to his sweaty head. vee is the palest person logan knows but he looks positively grey at the moment

'can i help in any way?' he asks, aware that he doesnt need to baby talk at the moment but still eager to look after this bundle of miserableness

virgil just groans under his breath and clutches his knees to his chest. 'i.. i didnt know what to do with the..' he gestures vaguely to something on the floor

logan notices virgil, being not regressed anymore, had obviously wrestled off the diaper he had been changed into the night before and not known how to dispose of it

'its ok, ive got it' logan wraps it up in a bag and puts it in the trash can they have in the room for just this purpose

'sorry.. m stupid' virgil croaks

'You're not stupid.' logan says firmly as he washes his hands 'You're ill and probably delirious from the fever. it's alright virgil'

theres quiet for a bit longer, virge's head pressed against the porcelain edge of the bathtub likely in an attempt to cool his fever. logan stays there with him for a while just waiting. then suddenly virgil starts sobbing and buries his face in his hands.

'sweetheart, tell me whats wrong please' logan hurries to kneel beside him, lifting his hands away from his face. that wouldnt help the fever

'i dont feel well' virgil cries pathetically, tears rolling down his face.

logans heart breaks 'no, you dont. i'm sorry little one, i know its not nice'

at the nickname virgils thumb raises to his lips again, which logan hurriedly intercepts. 'i'll make you a deal, okay? you're allowed to use a pacifier, but you have to use the same one everyday until you are better. we will need to sterilise it every night too.'

vee sniffles and nods, then chokes 'm not a baby right now though'

'that doesnt matter. you dont need to be regressed to want one of your pacis, vee'

vee is unresponsive and starts scratching at his pyjama pants. logan gets a feeling he isnt saying something. then he notices virgil's pout is much more infantile than his adult ones. 'are you feeling little, baby?'

with a harsh shake of his head vee starts crying again. he whispers 'dont wanna be a b...' then cuts himself off and whimpers

logan cards his fingers through virgils damp bangs. he knows what virgils mind has jumped to. 'were you going to say you dont want to be a baby?' he lifts virgils chin up to look at him 'or that you dont want to be a burden?'

virgils pale lip wobbles 'same fing'

'no sweetheart, no no no,' logan sits on the tiles beside vee and pulls him into his lap. virgil goes willingly. logan rocks his baby as he says 'youre always always allowed to be a baby and its never ever going to upset your family. even if you're an adorable wonderful brave baby boy alllll of the time' he scribbles his finger on virgils rosy cheek and delights at the tiny smile it earns him. 'but especially when you're feeling yucky. you feel a bit yucky today dont you, little one?'

vee nods with a pout

'but yknow whats not yucky? softies and pacis and diapers and lots and lots of cuddles with mama' he holds virgil tighter to prove his point. vee sighs and drops his head to nuzzle against his mama's neck. logan feels he still has a slight fever. 'i know what might help you feel less yucky. does my sweet baby want a sweet ice pop?'

thankfully vee nods against his shoulder and grips tight onto his pyjama shirt, preparing for when logan lifts him up

he first makes sure to change vee into another diaper and even decides that he should wear one of mama's t-shirts as a light dress so he doesnt get as overheated by his pyjamas. at this point vee actually giggles for the first time pretty much all day as he feels the tshirt swish lazily around his legs. logan makes a mental note to observe whether little vee might want to try wearing dresses if the feeling sparks this much joy (at this point logan is unaware that vee has secretly been trying skirts and dresses in his room for months, and roman found out a few weeks ago, but vee isnt ready to tell the cgs yet)

by the time vee is in his diaper and mamas tshirt dress and has a paci and jiji clutched to his chest he is a lot calmer and happier. he's still very ill and exhausted and teary, but theres a tiny smile on his face instead of a pout. in the kitchen he picks a strawberry ice pop and it goes down well, logan convinces him to have a cracker too though vee is in such a young headspace by then that he is just sucking on it, which logan supposes is fine too

by the (real) morning vee is still regressed and has managed to have a couple hours undisturbed sleep. its not much but its better than nothing. logan didnt fare much better. by then vee misses his papa and asks for him and logan hands the responsibility over to papa patton, trustinf the other caregiver enough to catch up on a quick power nap himself

but yes, the main thing is vee thought being ill was a burden enough that he shouldnt be regressed too, but logan makes him see that its okay. vee is regressed pretty much the whole time he is ill over the next few days because its stressful and painful and its a lot easier to feel comforted when ur a baby

yeah! gosh that was long, theres probably a billion spelling mistakes! feel free to ask follow up Qs if i missed anything u wanted to know abt this event

#little/big concepts #illness tw #vomit tw #food mention #long post #asks #tumblebee the smol bean

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third-rail-vip · 4 years ago

Photo

Complicated

Summary:

It’d be killing two birds with one stone, she’d said. MacCready glared at the crinkled, blackened leaves of the fern sticking out of his duster pocket. His duster, which like the rest of him, was currently chest deep in stinking marsh water, facing a cluster of ferals.

Ivy and MacCready's trip to take on the Gunners is stopped in its tracks by a poor judged detour. Mac gets hurt, but he's never been very good at being cared for.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5625 [AO3 link] [Then I Met You - Series Link]

Mud-clouded, irradiated marsh water burned into his nose, filled his throat, and tried to force its way into his lungs.

And as if drowning wasn’t bad enough, a close second in the ranking of bad-to-worse was the gouging pain of claw-like nails burying themselves deep into his back, forcing him under water as they tried to tear chunks out of him.

A dull thought overtook him as the last of the breath left his lungs; he was going to die here.

--x--

The chill of cold water was replaced by a brief but biting gust of wind as a door clicked shut. MacCready stirred, floorboards shifted as he flexed his back and shoulders, which turned out to be the worst idea he could have possibly had - pain radiated from his left shoulder like fracturing glass.

He hissed through his teeth, taking a sharp breath in and sending a fresh wave across his body, briefly reigniting the burning sensation in his lungs. Waking up from a nightmare was supposed to be a relief, not just another chapter of discomfort.

MacCready kept his eyes scrunched closed. There was light beyond the barrier of his eyelids, low but warm. If it hadn’t been for the dull headache starting to tap away between his eyes like water torture, it might even have been welcoming.

“Shhh, shh, shh,” a voice murmured close by. “You’re okay.”

First things first, when you woke up somewhere strange, it was always best to keep your eyes shut. There was a lot you could learn when people didn’t know you were awake. Things that could keep you alive if you weren’t somewhere safe.

He took a breath in through his nose; the cold December breeze cut through the old damp scent of the room, it carried with it the smell of vegetables (tatos probably) and manure – he grimaced, trying to hide the expression of regret at his deep inhale. So, it was a farm. He listened carefully, the lows of brahmin and the quiet chatter of voices confirmed enough for him – the only danger he faced here was boredom.

As his apprehension dwindled further, he realised it was Ivy’s voice offering the soft reassurances – of course it was – and he could only assume it was her who’d just gently brushed his hair back from his sweat-damp forehead. The tender motion would be enough to lull him back to sleep if he let it, but he wasn’t ready to be drowning in his mind again, or to watch Lucy pulled to pieces, or to be yelling for his missing partner. No, it was time to wake up.

His vision was blurry when he eventually peeked his eyes open, the dull glow of an oil lantern was the only thing beating back the shadows of early evening. It’s illumination barely reached the wooden slatted ceiling he found himself staring up at.

He was laid on a mouldy old sleeping bag in a small room with broken windows, but that didn’t exactly narrow down locations when it came to the Commonwealth. Glancing out the window, the faint remnants of orange warming the darkness on the horizon told him the sun hadn’t long set.

Sat next to him, lantern light shafting through her hair and casting her face in shadow, was his partner. He smiled to himself at the halo effect doing its best to make her look like an angel – if angels sat there drinking Nuka-Cherry with a cute little crinkle on their nose from their patented ‘worry frown’.

Quick check for his other essentials; his sniper rifle was propped up in the corner by the lamp, which sat on the same small table as his hat. He reached up and patted his top pocket and felt the reassuring bulk of the toy soldier. Everything was where it should be.

“So, did I die or is this just my guardian angel coming to pay me a visit?” he croaked, with a throat drier than wasteland dirt.

“Hey you.” Ivy swiped the heel of her palm across her eye, before pushing a smile onto her lips and turning to look at him. “You had me worried there.”

Crap. He really did. That light tone didn’t hold any weight with him, he could hear the waver in her voice, see the tension in her smile. She’d hired him to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen, but all it took was ferals and he was failing people all over again.

Now the light shone on her properly, the scratches on her face (earned in a fight he was nowhere near to help her with) put his heart into a vice-like grip.

They didn’t look as bad as before, there wasn’t blood all over her face anymore, for one thing. In fact, her hair was damp but back to it’s usual creamy white – no more essence of marsh water – and her rolled down vault suit showed she’d swapped into a clean tank top.

Come to think of it, when they’d arrived at Oberland Station it had only just been getting dark. Yes, he remembered where they were now - a cluster of shacks and a signal box huddled by the railroad tracks and surrounded by tato plants. He also remembered the welcoming committee, armed with pipe pistols and a whole heap of mistrust.

The pair of them had been caught off guard on the tracks, Ivy still in his arms – the vice tightened another twist. They were soaked, bleeding and, unless the settlers expected him to hurl his injured partner at them, they were unarmed.

He’d been about to give them the biggest f-ing piece of his mind, when the world that had started to spin around him, decided to turn out the lights.

“How long—”

“You’ve been out for a couple of hours.” Ivy hugged her knees to her chest and nodded to the IV he hadn’t even noticed in his arm. “You’re on your second bag.”

A bag of Radaway was hung up using the bedstead as a makeshift drip-stand. It had almost run through. On the ground nearby was another spent bag and an empty blood pack.

Shit. Well that would explain the headache, the dizziness and the nausea, not the mention the fever. There were only two things in the wasteland that’d do that to you; a whole heck of a lot of rads, or a couple of sips of Vadim’s moonshine.

“They let us stay, huh?” He hoped his smile could pass for something warmer than a grimace. “I wouldn’t have guessed from that reception.”

Ivy sighed and raised an eyebrow at his salty remark.

“Well, you passing out and dropping me like a sack of potatoes… tatos? Is there an equivalent?” She frowned for a second, adjusting the grip on her knees and shifting her weight to the other hip. “Anyway, I think it helped our case.”

Mac smiled. He liked her tangents, when her old world and his new one got jumbled up in her head and knocked her train of thought off the tracks. Her mental meanders had tested his patience back when they first met, but now he found it soothing to watch her puzzle things out.

Ivy leant forward and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. Her fingers were cool – a welcome relief he hadn’t realised he needed until they soothed some of the heat in his skin.

“Your temperature’s coming back down, at least.” The last of the Radaway had run its course, so she slipped the drip from his arm. “How are you feeling?”

MacCready sat up – big mistake. The room spun violently around him, dragging a sickening groan from his lips. If Ivy hadn’t been there to grab his arms and steady him, he’d have slumped back down onto the sleeping bag.

Fat lot of good he was doing anyone in this state! Those goddamn ferals. He wanted to scream. Or shoot something. Or have a cigarette. Where were his damn cigarettes?

But he needed to keep his shit together.

“I feel like a herd of brahmin stomped on my head,” he griped, hoping he could at least manage to make her laugh. “What do you think, doc? Am I going to make it?”

She wasn’t even looking at him - wide-eyed, she was staring at his shoulder. Ever so slowly, she reached out and peeled the sleeping bag away from where blood had soaked it to his shoulder. He couldn’t hold in the pained cry when she did it.

--x--

He lined up another shot, taking two down with one bullet – a very nicely placed double headshot. Ordinarily he’d be singing his own praises, but this whole mess had the potential to go bad real fast. One tackle from a feral and he’d lost the upper ground, got separated from his partner and cut off from any hope of an easy retreat.

Once-upon-a-time, taking out ferals had been child’s play. Literally. He’d been at it since he was 10. He’d perfected the art of anticipating their shambling, diving movements. Could line up a shot with barely a glance, the same way he took down raiders and greenskins these days – it came as naturally to him as a heartbeat.

It was no boast when he claimed to be the ‘best shot in the Commonwealth’. If you asked MacCready, he was a modern-day Robin-fucking-Hood – except the beggared of the commonwealth could keep their mitts off his caps.

That had all changed four years ago, at least with the ferals it had. Now he had to focus – there was no winging this shit. He had to tell his hands to stop shaking, to count his breaths so he even remembered to take them. Every time those things showed up he had to ride the line between fear and rage - which might have been useful if he was wielding a baseball bat, but it was no damn good for a sniper.

His finger was slick on the trigger, and as much as he wished he could just blame it on the water, his palms were sweating. He bungled his second shot, it only winged the racing creature.

This was goddamn nightmare fuel.

The third shot came from the walkway above him.

“I could have got it,” he snapped, more harshly than he meant to, but this shit had got him on edge.

“I know.” Ivy didn’t even bicker back at him.

She was scared. And alone.

But he’d thank anything that’d listen that she had a good eye - he admired the clean shot between the eyes of the feral before it sank beneath the water - and that her aim was getting better every day. The trouble would come if she got overwhelmed and he couldn’t get to her.

Hell of a lot of good he was doing down here.

The pair had taken on ferals before, but not in this number and he’d not left her side the whole time. This was different. There were so many - more rising up out of the water or scuttling across the rooftops at every turn. They were closer to the Glowing Sea here, but this was ridiculous. It was like someone had set up a feral summer camp and the damn things had waited for them to get right into the centre of town before attacking.

With barely a thought, he took down another feral as it rounded the corner ahead. It was easier if he just went on instinct, less time for thoughts of consequences - and the memories of old ones - to creep in.

MacCready patted his top pocket. Good, it was still there.

“I hate getting wet,” he moaned.

“I know.” Came the reply (after a few more gunshots), this time from a few roofs down, further back into the heart of the sunken village.

MacCready made to move forward in an attempt to keep pace with her, his feet dragging through deep silt. He’d barely made it a few yards before something heavy fell with a loud splash right behind him. He definitely didn’t have time to turn around before it was on him – teeth, nails, sheer weight dragging him down under the water.

--x--

“I’m so sorry.” Ivy’s voice was so small, her eyes were swimming when she looked at him. “I really fucked up.”

MacCready frowned, confused. It wasn’t her fault he’d bled all over the damn sleeping bag. The settlers would just have to get over it.

“I took us to that awful place and you got hurt,” her voice was growing more and more frantic until it finally cracked and tears spilled down her face. “When they dragged you under—”

Oh, Ives. Did she really think this was all her fault?

He leaned forward and caught the back of her neck, gently tugging her forwards until their foreheads touched. A startled gasp mingled with a sob when he did, her red-rimmed brown eyes looking straight into his brilliant blue gaze.

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this,” he murmured. “Yeah, sh—stuff went wrong, but we made a heck of a team out there.”

“Mac, I thought I got you killed…”

This close together, with their gazes locked, even in that dark little room, he could see the scratch the knife had made down her eye. She must have come damn close to losing it. What kind of animal could do that to a sweetheart like her. He felt his temper bubbling up, but given it was 200 years too damn late, it was about as redundant as he’d been today.

“I’m a Capital Wasteland radroach,” he smiled, bumping the tip of his nose against hers. “It’ll take more than a few ferals to kill me.”

The words tasted like bile in the back of his throat, knowing they might well be true, but the same didn’t extend to the people he loved. But then, they weren’t for his benefit, and the intended recipient had almost laughed, which was definitely something.

“I am sorry tho—”

“Ah, ah. You saved my ass, angel. I’d be feral food if it wasn’t for you.”

It was true. It had been terrifyingly close.

Ivy bumped her nose against his before pulling away, shifting back into her spot against the wall, leaving him with an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. Her tears had dried up, and she wiped away the remaining trickles from her cheeks with the heel of her palm.

MacCready dug in his pants’ pocket for his cigarettes, pulling one out only to watch it flop and snap. He hated water.

His partner giggled when he looked across at her, a pathetic sight with his packet of ruined cigarettes. Then she laughed, really laughed. The tension from moments before finding its way out in nervous energy.

Ivy laughing - really laughing - was a joy.

First, she’d fight to hold it in, but you’d see it building in her eyes. Then the corners of her mouth would twitch, her lips desperately wanting to break open into a grin, so she’d catch it behind a hand - both if it was especially bad - like, if he couldn’t see the smile, he hadn’t won the game of making her laugh. Tears like diamonds flecked with mascara would form in the corners of her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.

He'd happily sit there with half a cigarette hanging off his bottom lip if he got to watch that sight.

Once her giggles had faded, she filled a cup with purified water for him. It’d be more soothing for his throat than a cigarette anyway, just not for his nerves. Regardless, he downed the water in one and held his cup back out for a refill, big blue eyes pleading the same way dogmeat did anytime they were cooking something tasty. Ivy obliged.

“How about I take a look at that shoulder now?”

Whether he’d like her to or not, she was already digging in her pack for antiseptic and filling a small basin with more purified water.

--x--

Removing MacCready’s coat and shirt turned out to be more of a challenge than they’d anticipated. The fabric of both were either caught in the wound or dried to his skin, and the attempted removal of them left him chewing on the back of his hand.

The pair of them sat hip-to-hip, the small of Ivy’s back resting against his knee as she focussed on her work. Outside he could Diamond City Radio playing quietly from somewhere in the settlement. It showed how hard his partner was concentrating that she wasn’t even humming along. He let the strains of Billie Holliday wash over him and tried to think about anything other than the pain in his shoulder.

“Mac?”

Ivy cast a quick glance MacCready’s way between strokes of the damp cloth she was using to stop the dried blood clinging to the fabric.

“Hmm?” He tried to sound casual, like he hadn’t just been counting the freckles on the bridge of her nose. 23.

“What does RJ stand for?” She treated him to the little hopeful smile she usually reserved for shopkeepers and potential employers.

“Where did that come from?”

“I just wondered.” And you thought it’d distract me from thinking about my shoulder trying to pull itself apart. “I can’t believe I’ve never gotten around to asking before.”

“Oh, you have.”

He grinned at the confusion dawning into a half-memory on her face. He’d been just sober enough to remember the second agreement they made on Halloween night, when they first met in Goodneighbor – one shot per question.

It’s no wonder she couldn’t remember though. Most of his memories, other than a few of her more outlandish questions, revolved around those big, bright, buzzed eyes.

They’d been sprawled on opposite sofas in The Third Rail, half a bottle of whiskey – which she obviously couldn’t handle – down and she’d just asked him (as one of the 20 questions he’d limited her to) what the meaning of life was. He’d told her to shut up and drink. Then she’d tried for his name with so much mischief in those eyes and a smirk on her lips that he’d never quite been able to take his eyes off since.

“And I’ll tell you now, what I told you then. No way. I’m not telling you. You’ll only use it to tell me off.”

He hissed indignantly at the cold hand she purposefully rested on his chest when she paused to give him an appraising look.

“That’s fair,” she eventually conceded - most likely when her hand had reached the temperature a human body should be - setting back to work, only to pause again a second later.

“Of course...” she smirked at the new idea that had presented itself to her, leaning across conspiratorially to whisper in his ear. “You might have to make a choice between that, and me making up names for you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied without hesitation.

“That’s your prerogative, Rodney.”

He glared at her.

--x--

It took a couple more minutes to work the material free of the wound – and a couple more minutes of enduring every name beginning with ‘R’ that Ivy could think of – but now the damage was plain to see.

Or at least he could guess it was from the sudden lack of teasing and the expression of horror on Ivy’s face. The colour that he’d tried so hard to get back into those cheeks had drained again, and the guilt he could see in her eyes, when she flicked them to his face then back to his shoulder, was like a mirror to his own.

If the deep red stains that had soaked into his once white tank and across his shoulder were anything to go by, those ferals had made a goddamn mess of him.

“I—this might take a little while. I’m going to need to clear out the…debris…and clean the scratches before I can even think about getting a Stimpak in there.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “These deeper ones… RJ, they’re going to hurt.”

“I’m a big boy, angel. I can take it.”

Debris. He knew exactly what that meant. And damn right it was going to hurt. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to dig broken off feral nails and teeth from his flesh. At least this time he wasn’t trying to comfort a bawling infant as he did it.

When she dragged the lamp closer, MacCready knew exactly what else she’d see. The back of his shoulder and upper arm were littered with old scars. How long would it take her to spot the similarities between the old marks and the ones she was cleaning? He wondered whether she’d guess that’s what wrecked his duster in the first place.

He braced himself, waiting for the inevitable pain, trying to ignore the glint of lamplight on the already red-tinted basin of water next to him. Picking a patch of peeling paint on the skirting board, he stared at it, trying to make himself focus on what colour it might have been two centuries ago. Would it have been something fun? Midnight blue, maybe? Not likely.

A shiver ran up his spine as Ivy smoothed a hand over his shoulder-blade, her thumb tracing the lines of the old wounds with a touch as delicate as a kiss. She didn’t ask. She didn’t need to. One glance between them and she could recognise scars with a history. If anyone understood the vulnerability that came with them, it was her.

MacCready had never been much of one for looking after himself when he was hurt. He was more of a ‘rip the bandaid off’ kind of guy. Stick a stimpak in it and hope for the best.

Oh, but Ivy, she was as gentle as she could be with him, soft hands working to soothe, stopping with every groan and halted curse – if she could – whispering apologies and reassurances that she wouldn’t take much longer.

The water beside him grew deeper red with every time she had to wash the blood from her fingertips. He thought he’d bite clean through his lip when she dug out the last of the debris, it was buried deep and he could hear from trying to keep from retching as she pulled it from deep in the muscle.

The smell of the antiseptic burned his nostrils. He was such a mess, he barely even felt the sting of the carefully applied stimpak getting to work on knitting his muscle back together. Woozily he pressed his fingers to his bleeding lip, rocking forward to put his head between his raised knees until the room stopped spinning.

“Hey, that was the last one,” Ivy gently rubbed her hand up his spine and across his uninjured shoulder, quietly reassuring him. “Just got to get you bandaged up and you’ll be good as new.”

“And what about you?” he asked as she began to bandage his shoulder, glancing pointedly at her swollen ankle which was covered in an ever-increasing nebula of purple and black bruises.

“It’s just a sprain, Mac” she shrugged. “It’ll go down in time. Let me worry about you.”

--x--

He heard the gunshots, that wasn’t what frightened him. It was the scream that came after. The last he’d seen of Ivy she’d been standing up on a pitched roof – stupidly out in the open, but if she hadn’t thrown caution to the wind to get that vantage point, he’d be a dead man.

Now she was gone.

There were feral corpses bobbing in the water all around him, even more hanging off the roofs and walkways. He hadn’t realised how many were on him until he pulled himself back up, fighting for air.

In seconds his vicious memories were replaced by a new fear.

Bleeding and dizzy, he began wading through the deserted streets. He couldn’t see any more movement, not around him and not on the rooftops. And he couldn’t see her. The village was as silent as when they arrived.

“Hey partner, you okay?” he hazarded a shout.

No answer, just the echo of his voice bouncing back off deserted buildings.

MacCready started to move faster towards where he’d last seen her, forcing his body through the deep water, causing eddies and ripples to trail out behind him. He tried to keep calm but his breaths were getting shaky.

“Hey angel, you good?” he shouted louder this time.

Nothing.

“Ivy?”

It was more of a croak than a shout. There was no way anyone could hear it. He could barely hear it. But that didn’t stop the nausea rising in the pit of his stomach, or his pulse starting to pound in his ears.

No, no, no, no, no… not this time.

“Ives!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Over and over again, he shouted, his voice mixing with the echoes as he dragged himself up the rusted fire escape onto the rooftop.

“Mac?” He almost missed it. Her voice was stifled by coughing, but it was her.

Scrambling up onto the pitched roof he’d last seen her on, he spotted a hole edged with rotten beams and snapped tiles. Peering over the edge into the gloom of a dusty attic space, he could see Ivy. She lay crumpled half on/half under a pile of broken beams with blood smeared across her face. Her ankle was caught at a weird angle. The body of a feral lay impaled where it landed just feet away.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so relieved to see a person in his life. The way she was smiling at him, she looked pretty damn glad to see him too.

“Did we win?”

Shaky laughter spilled from his lips, “Something like that, angel.”

“You called me Ives.”

She gave him the soft look of a woman who’d probably hit her head on the way down.

--x--

But Mac was the one doing the worrying.

It had been a long time since he’d been that worried about losing a partner. What rattled him the most was that when she’d disappeared out of his sight, his panic had nothing to do with suddenly being alone in a feral-infested swamp. He didn’t even spare a thought for the Gunner base less than a half a mile away. He’d been too wrapped up in the fear of losing her.

Ivy was giving him that soft look again now, even without the concussion. Would it be so much to hope that she actually gave a damn about him? He’d made mistakes in the past, given his trust to people who didn’t deserve, and he’d been burned.

But maybe she was different, just like he’d told her when he convinced her to help him with this dumbass plan.

“You really don’t have to do all this for me, angel, but thank you.”

Without thinking he reached out, brushed that one stubborn curl back behind her ear and cupped her cheek. It took his thumb brushing her scar for him to realise that he was the biggest dumbass in the commonwealth. Of all the things he could have done…

He was on the verge of panicking and pulling his hand away, when she pressed her hand over the top of and smiled at him. He couldn’t have imagined such a different reaction to when she’d been falling apart in front of him in Malden.

“You should let somebody else take care of you every once in a while.”

If he thought she’d been looking at him softly before, well this look coaxed all the air from his lungs, and if he remembered to breathe at any point in the future, he’d struggle.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Usually MacCready was the one who knew how to tease blushes and smiles out of her. To catch her eye and leave her speechless. How did one simple gesture have his stomach in knots?

Holy crap, he did not see this coming.

There was a creak on the wooden stairs outside their room and he wasn’t sure he’d ever resented a noise so much in his life. Their little bubble had been burst and now he could hear the chatter of settlers outside again, and the damn brahmin still hadn’t shut up – even though he’d been deaf to them just moments before. He could hear one of those damn crows squawking away in the woods nearby. Dinner was cooking, and people were laughing, and didn’t they have anything better to do than interrupt them.

Ivy gave his hand a quick squeeze and took it away from her face just as the door creaked open and one of the settlers arrived with a basin of scalding hot water - now he thought about it, after the day they just had, he probably smelled like antiseptic and stagnant marsh water. Nice.

“I’ll leave you to get washed up.” There was a flush to Ivy’s cheeks that couldn’t just be put down to warm lighting. He just smiled at her like an idiot.

“You need a hand down the stairs?” their host enquired, giving them both the kind of look that gossip was built on.

MacCready glared at the woman. Ivy might be quick to forgive, but he remembered that pipe pistol, and if he started getting shit from caravan guards, he’d know exactly where it had come from.

“No, thank you, Lynn. I can manage.” The woman bustled back out into the night air, but MacCready could hear her taking her time going down the stairs. Nosy...

Before he could help her, Ivy had dragged herself to her feet, using the doorframe to keep as much weight off her ankle as possible.

“I’ll be outside.”

“What, no bed bath?” MacCready forced a laugh. This was the crap they usually joked about, right? He was sure it wouldn’t have sounded so awkward that morning.

Ivy shook her head in exasperation, or at least that was probably what she was going for, but the grin and the blush undermined the impression.

“I was an artist, sweetheart, not a nurse,” she teased. “So, unless you’re planning on posing for a life drawing, I’m going to go and help with supper.”

A sudden panic hit him as the room emptied. What if something happened? What if something happened while she was out there and he couldn’t get to her in time.

The door had barely clicked shut before he called after her, “Angel?”

“Yeah?” she poked her head back in, curious smile in place. The wave of relief he felt after just a second, well, it was ridiculous.

“Stay close. Yeah?”

--x--

The previous night had ended up much like that morning had begun - with bickering and a meal. A big bowl of vegetable stew and a quarrel about how to get back to Diamond City, to be more precise. Not that they’d gone to sleep on bad terms, if intertwined fingers and shy smiles in the darkness were anything to go by.

MacCready watched the weather suspiciously, the morning was dull and windy, and knowing his luck, they’d probably end up hiking in the rain. He stood on the tracks with Ivy, all packed up and ready to go, but they were still undecided on the route they should take. Her ankle was no better than the day before, despite her hobbling on it and trying to convince him that she’d be able to make it the long way on foot.

“I’m telling you, if we go via Cambridge it’s actual roads and I’ll be able to walk. I might just need a little support,” she challenged him. Again.

“And I’m telling you, you’re in no fit state to try and get past raiders and muties if they’ve infested that apartment block again,” he snapped back, frustrated. “If we take the shorter route we can be back in under two hours.”

“And if there are yao guai, Mac? What then? I’m definitely going to get eaten, is what.” She folded her arms across her chest, the very picture of defiance – if it wasn’t for her standing on one leg like a lawn flamingo. “Where’s the salt? Because you might as well season me now.”

“Stop being so damn dramatic.” He rolled his eyes at her indignant look. “I’d get us there in less time if you’d just let me carry you.”

“And what about your shoulder?”

He chose to ignore that one. The shoulder in question still ached like a son-of-a…gun.

“I’ll tell you what RJ stands for.” Looking at her like he’d just upped the ante on a bet she could never refuse. “But only if we can go the shorter way.”

…got her.

“Really?”

He shook his head and stalked over, picking her up in one fluid movement and–hopefully–managed to hide the sharp pain in his shoulder. She quickly wrapped an arm around his neck to steady herself and swallowed hard – he couldn’t miss it – composing herself after being caught off guard.

“Robert. Joseph.”

She smiled, glancing away at nothing in particular, like she was trying out the feel of his name in her mind. Then she smiled at him, and it was his turn to steady himself. There was none of the teasing he’d anticipated, just that gentle warmth that always caught him off guard.

“Ok, you win. We can go your way.”

Oh, this was going to get complicated.

#it is done. finally.#maccready #robert joseph maccready #ivy kendrick #sole survivor #maccready x sole survivor #maccready x f!solesurvivor #Then I Met You #mac x ivy #fallout 4 #my writing #my oc

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salt-warrior · 4 years ago

Text

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Eleven: Little Miss Independent

"Stop beating yourself up, Crown." Thorne shoved in another bite of waffles, boysenberry jam staining his lips purple as he did so. "It's not your fault that you're the nosiest person on the planet and she hates herself. Get over it."

Kai rolled his eyes. Thorne was a great friend; he was always there for Kai no matter what. But he was the worst at giving sane advice or motivational speeches. "It just wasn't my business."

"You really should have gone into journalism," Thorne said, his words slurred by the food in his mouth. Kai looked down, his heart heavy at the comment.

When Kai had been young, he had wanted to do nothing more than write, and his mother had encouraged that. His father had even been fine with the whole idea, even if it meant that Kai would not go into the family business. All of it had changed when Kai's mother had died. Kai stopped writing—stopped doing most things he loved. It was too painful.

"Yeah," Kai muttered. "I should have."

"Anyways," Thorne waved his fork erratically through the air, nearly spraying Kai with blue jam. "You need to just rip the bandaid off. Show her that you care— more than you should if you ask me–" Kai glared. Thorne sighed. "She really needs someone on her side, even if she thinks she's little-miss-independent."

Kai looked down into his mug, completely empty except for small flakes of chocolate. It wasn't that Kai didn't want to talk to Cinder—quite the opposite, really. He just didn't want to scare her away. He would never be able to forgive himself.

"It's just, there's something dark about her. She's hiding something," Kai remarked.

"Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious. I don't think I ever would have figured that one out on my own." Thorne threw his arms around his head in exasperation, before ticking off fingers. "I mean, she freaks every time someone calls her by her given name, she had a sister that died while they were alone together and no one will say how it happened, and everyone she once knew hated her. I wonder what that girl has to hide."

"Okay, okay!" Kai drummed his fingers anxiously across the square table. "I'm only thinking out loud, no need to go ballistic."

Scraping chunky jam out of a plastic container, Thorne rubbed it lovingly across the last of his waffles. Kai watched, nose scrunched in disgust. Kai hated berries. They were just too sour, too mushy, and left the back of your tongue scratchy. They were gross.

Thorne smothered whipped cream on top of his creation, practically drooling all over it. "Oh, hey, I almost forgot. Did you learn anything from the Principal or that Chris girl?"

"Cress," Kai said quickly, his palms growing sweaty.

"What?" Thorne looked up, confusion scrawled across his fair features.

"Her name is Cress, not Chris." Kai clarified, his cheeks heating up as he babbled. "And your incredible timing stopped me from learning anything really important, so thanks for that."

An impish grin came across Thorne's face, and Kai knew what he was thinking. If ultra-red was a color, then ‘Kaito Crown's face when talking about pretty girls’ could have been the crayon for it. "Yes, she was cute, but not my type, so please don't ask."

"Ah," Thorne slapped a hand dramatically across his heart. "I would never suggest anything of the sort. I know how attached you are to your hot angel." Thorne quirked an eyebrow devilishly.

"Well, what were you going to ask, then?" Kai grumbled, turning his blazing face down. He hadn't much thought about Cress, considering that she had a mysterious past with the girl he was fighting for. He didn't know if Cress had been a positive or negative factor in Cinder's life, which therefore made her hard to look at in any other way than a source of information.

Thorne played around with his fork before answering, "Well, you must have found out something new. Even the tiniest bit of news. I mean, unless you're hiding it from me." Thorne grinned wickedly, and Kai cursed himself mentally. "You're a terrible liar, Crown."

"Okay, fine. I just feel guilty about the whole thing." Kai rubbed his palms against his sleepless eyes. "When I went to talk with Cress, she told me that Selene—Cinder—kept a bunch of secrets." Kai paused, gauging Thorne's face. He looked almost bored, which send a stab of agitation through Kai.

"And?" Thorne pressed on impatiently.

Kai sighed. "And she told me that Cinder lied about what happened to her mom. Even her records don't have the truth; I would know. The nurses told me that Sel– Cinder's mother was put into prison when she was only six, but apparently that's not true."

Thorne motioned impatiently for Kai to continue, but Kai shrugged his shoulders. Thorne huffed. "What actually happened to her mother?"

"Well, I would know if it weren't for your incredible timing." Kai leaned forward in his seat, glaring at Thorne.

"Hey! You told me to call the second the girl woke up. You can't blame me for a job well done," said Thorne defensively.

Kai threw his body back in his seat, feeling exhausted. He was used to getting a solid eight hours of sleep, but that had gone out the window ever since the accident. It was starting to wear on him. "I know, Thorne. And thank you for being there, it meant a lot."

"It better have." Thorne folded his arms across his chest defensively. "That girl of yours is not an angel."

A chuckle escaped Kai, earning a glare from Thorne. "She's a piece of work!"

"She's not easy," Kai admitted, thinking back on his only encounter with a conscious Cinder. She was different than anyone Kai had ever met, one moment rageful and fiery, and in the next small and pitiable. It was hard for Kai to feel anything but compassion for someone who had clearly suffered much. She had fought her whole life, never leaving her enough time to feel peace or love.

There was something so terribly sad about the fact that Cinder couldn't understand why Kai would save her. She was just a girl—not a woman, but a girl—and she needed at least one person on her side. If that one person was Kai, then he would be one damn good cheerleader.

"Why was she so mad at you in the first place? What did you say to her?" Kai asked, recalling the phone call and Cinder's brief acknowledgment to Thorne's visit. "She seems to hate you even more than me."

Thorne waved his hand as if swatting a fly. "Oh, you know. Some women just can't take no for an answer is all."

"Carswell, please tell me you did not flirt with her the second she woke up. She nearly burned to death!" Kai exclaimed, imagining all of the terrible puns and flirtatious jokes Thorne could have made.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a wad." Thorne rolled his eyes. "I was perfectly pleasant as always."

"No wonder she hates me so much," Kai grumbled to himself. "I unleashed you on her, and now she's probably frightened to death! She's only nineteen, Thorne."

"And I'm only twenty-two." Thorne countered.

Kai put his head in his hands, his face flushing with embarrassment and... was that jealousy? How could Kai be jealous that Thorne had tormented a girl with his flirtations, or was it the fact that Thorne was able to flirt with her?

Thorne seemed to read Kai's face like a book. He leaned forward teasingly, his voice sing-songy. "Ooh, is Kaito jealous? But of what, may I wonder?" Thorne rested his cheek in his hand, looking like a gossiping school-girl. Kai had hardly ever wanted to hit him more.

"Not jealous." Kai got out through his teeth. "I just don't want you messing with her. She's been through enough."

"Sure, sure." Thorne tossed the words around teasingly. "Anyway, she's not my type. I've always had a thing for gingers. Those devil's wenches. I was thinking about asking out the other nurse."

Kai ignored this, knowing as well as anything that Thorne preferred blondes. Thorne had only ever been out with one redhead, and that date had not been his best.

"I just don't know what to do," Kai whined, getting back on track. Whenever Thorne was involved in a conversation things always got out of hand.

"Go talk to her. She's had a night to think things through and realize that she was rude and irrational. Appeal to your gentler side; women like that."

Kai wrinkled his nose, deciding that was enough advice for one day. It was true that Cinder had been given plenty of time to think things over and decide how she felt. It was unfair of Kai to shove so much information on her all at once. He would be slower, more patient and gentle this time.

"Thanks, Thorne," Kai said, standing from his seat and sliding his body into his coat.

"Anything for my brotha," Thorne winked, throwing out a fist.

Kai bumped Thorne's fist with his own, twisting it and then spinning his fingers before he walked away and out of the café.

***

"How are you doing today, Cinder?" A nurse with vibrant blue braids practically skipped into the room, carrying a tray with milk, chocolate pudding and something that resembled oatmeal. Cinder tried not to wrinkle her nose. At least this nurse had called her by her preferred name.

The first nurse that Cinder had met had been curvy and dark-haired. She had called Cinder 'Selene' so many times that Cinder had yelled for her to stop. The second nurse hadn't spoken at all to Cinder, except to ask her the rudimentary questions, though that may have been the night-shift speaking.

"Fine." Cinder commented, not in the mood for conversation. There was a TV going on in the background, but Cinder had only glanced at it for a few seconds before growing bored. She would much rather be reading a book. Those at least didn't make her eyes burn and head throb.

The room was plainly furnished, with the bed in the center of the room, the said TV across from the bed, and a small plastic chair beside the bed for visitors.

"I brought your breakfast, and your medicine. Now that you're awake, we want to start you on oral medication and ween you off your IV so you can go home." The nurse placed the tray on the over-bed table. "I'm Iko, by the way."

Cinder ignore the last part. "Wasn't I in a medically induced coma? Why didn't they just keep me awake and give me my medication like a normal person?" Cinder questioned, her words tinged with agitation.

"It's part of the treatment," Iko said, her voice cool but firm. She was not a woman to be messed with. "People heal better while sleeping, and this particular treatment can be tricky."

Iko moved around the bed to shift Cinder into an upright position. She fluffed the pillows, and smoothed down the blankets in an affectionate fashion. Cinder almost felt guilty for being so bitter toward such a kind person.

There was something reassuring about Iko's presence. Cinder relaxed her shoulders, not realizing how tense she had been. She had been putting up a mask for so many years; it was nice to let it down, even for a second.

"Take these," Iko handed Cinder a small cup with an assortment of colored pills. Cinder put them all in her mouth at once, washing them down with a chug of milk that made Cinder almost gag. She had never been fond of dairy products, but she didn't want to be a snob.

The nurse seemed to dance around Cinder's bed, fixing monitors and IV bags, changing the lighting, turning the volume down on the TV. She appeared to know exactly what Cinder needed the most to make her comfortable. It was an odd sensation, to be cared for. Cinder hadn't experienced anything of the sort in too many years.

After seeming to finish with her practicality, Iko settled down in the plastic chair next to Cinder's bed. She clasped her hands daintily in her lap and smiled at Cinder. Only then did Cinder begin to marvel at the ageless quality Iko possessed. Her dark skin was clear and unblemished, her golden eyes bright, yet wise, and her blue braids gave her spunk.

"So," Iko smiled teasingly. "You seem to have a couple of male admirers. I hope that I'm not stepping the line when I ask you which one would happen to be your lover."

That took Cinder aback. Her shoulders tensed, and while normally she would have been agitated, or even mad with such an assumption, all Cinder could manage was a laugh. And laugh she did; big, ugly, loud laughing that shook the bed and caused the heart monitor to race.

Iko stared at Cinder in astonishment, and looked nearly appalled when Cinder began to cough and choke. She stood from her seat, placing a hand over Cinder's chest and muttering about smoke inhalation.

"You thought–" Cinder coughed, unable to control her laughter, "–that I was–" A wheezing began at the back of Cinder's throat. "–with one of those stupid–"

"Hey, hey," Iko was practically yelling at Cinder. "Stop with that, or you'll stop breathing soon enough. Hey!" Iko grabbed Cinder by the shoulders, trying to calm her.

Cinder stopped laughing, though it was gradual. She coughed once more before regaining her composure and staring at her befuddled nurse. "I'm okay." Cinder wiped at her eyes, though no tears had escaped. That was odd.

"I'm sorry," Cinder whispered, her voice hoarse. "It's just, I've never met either of those men before. I only know Kai because he saved me and I'm guessing Thorne is the guy that dared him to do it."

Iko softened and looked as if she were about to say something, but someone else, hidden in the shadows, spoke before she could.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I would like to speak with Miss Linh."

#when earth turns to ashes #wetta #a burning world #marissa meyer #tlc #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #tlc fanfiction #kaider fanfiction #linh cinder #selene blackburn #prince kai #emperor kai #carswell thorne #cress darnel #iko #salt warrior stories

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