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managedmischiefs · 4 years ago

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don’t leave me//spencer reid

600 follower celebration!! my first one shot in months because ive been so consumed with north. enjoy!!

also I didn’t edit this at all and worked on it for like five hours straight so excuse the mistakes plz and thx

genre: so much angst

pairing: spencer reid x female oc

warnings: drugs, withdrawal, overdose

word count: 5.2k

It isn’t hard to tell when something is wrong with Spencer.

Spencer is generally a sweet, patient, and quick-thinking person, especially at work. I joined the BAU when Elle Greenaway departed from the bureau and left a spot open for a profiler. Spencer didn’t seem to take well to the change in the team dynamic and it seemed like he shut down whenever I was around him. He didn’t talk to me much at all and when he did, it was strictly business. No banter about personal lives occurred between us like it did between Spencer and, well, the rest of the team. I chalked it up to an anxiety over change and I respected that. I gave him the time to warm up to me and thankfully, after a while, he seemed to take a liking to me.

Penelope Garcia is the queen of stirring up drama and once Spencer and I started to bond over our geeky tendencies, like using Doctor Who as a comfort show, and always searching for nerdy apparel in stores, she had no problem stirring the pot. To my understanding, she watched Spencer and I play cards together on the jet one day (on one of the rare days she came in the field with us) and then told Emily that we must be in love with each other. Emily told JJ, JJ told Morgan, Morgan told Hotch, and Hotch told Gideon. Suddenly the whole team became convinced that Spencer and I were madly in love and it only took about ten minutes.

I would never admit it, not yet at least, but Penelope was dead on. Once Spencer and I talked more and spent time together outside of work, I fell hard and fast for him. He truly is unlike any other man in the world. He has no problem with staying at home for a night, in fact, he prefers it. He likes to open the windows when it’s raining to hear the noises of the water making contact with his fire escape. He wants to stay up with me until the middle of the night just so we can make sure we finish every Harry Potter movie on binge days. It’s hard not to fall in love with Spencer Reid. He makes it so easy. Of course, he’s oblivious and his brain is filled with thoughts of self-doubt and inferiority in the looks department, but I don’t need or want him to look like a model. He’s all I need.

But one day, all of this stops. It wasn’t hard to tell that something was wrong with Spencer. It wasn’t a secret that a piece of Spencer’s soul was left in the grave he dug for himself under the watch of Tobias Hankle. It wasn’t a secret that Spencer struggled immensely upon returning home and having light withdrawal symptoms. I tried my best to help him, making trips to his apartment to bring him anything he might need while he was on his mandatory two weeks leave. But he would also give me an unconvincing smile and push me right out the door. He never let me spend more than five minutes inside his apartment. I never saw him sweat, or vomit, or shake, or yawn. I never saw his pupils dilate.

When he returns to work, a bit too soon for my liking, that’s when I start to notice the withdrawal symptoms. And for a little while, I’m okay with it. Withdrawal, although painful and torturous, is a step in the right direction. The drugs are making their way out of Spencer’s system and he is detoxing. I pay extra attention to him to ensure his safety, but nobody else on the team seems to give Spencer any care. They surely get pissed off when he snaps at them and sweats all over the case files and is far too nasty with possible witnesses. Nobody, besides me, gives his attitude any slack. But I continue to keep a close eye on him during the case.

Keeping a close eye, however, reveals to me that Spencer’s withdrawal symptoms continuously disappear and then reappear during the three days we are away. I don’t need Spencer’s level of genius to figure out what is going on.

My heart pounds against my chest when Spencer goes running of the jet the moment it touches down in DC. Not a single pair of eyes follow Spencer’s movements but my own. The others on the team just stand to pull their bags out of the overhead bins. They’re chatting about whether they should go out for drinks or to a restaurant for dinner but they’re not chatting about their friend who clearly has a problem. But I love Spencer more than anything and seeing him struggle makes me hurt inside. Once I retrieve my own carry on and go-bag, I drive straight to Spencer’s apartment. I ignore my fellow team members when they ask me if I want to join them for dinner.

“Spencer?” I knock on his front door and rock back and forth on my feet, waiting for some type of response from him. I saw his car outside and I know he’s here and if he doesn’t open the door within ten more seconds then I’m going to kick it down.

Thankfully, I don’t need to risk breaking the heel of my shoe today because the door swings open a second later. Spencer stands before me, looking the most disheveled I’ve ever seen him. His shirt is untucked, his pants are wrinkly, his hair is half curly from his excess sweating, and he isn’t even wearing socks or shoes. His long sleeve shirt makes my heart drop to my stomach.

“Olive?” His voice cracks when he speaks. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to-” I choke on the words I truly want to say and suddenly I’m pushing back tears. I try to swallow the lump in my throat and give him a smile. “I’m gonna make you dinner! The team is going out together but I’m in the mood to stay in after that horrible case.”

“Uh,” Spencer glances behind him and then whips back to me, “I’m actually really tired and I just wanna sleep. So thanks for coming by-”

My hands fly out when Spencer tries to close the door in my face. I’ve underestimated his strength up until now because I have to use all of my strength to keep him from pushing me out. But Spencer isn’t able to keep up his strength much longer and concedes, letting the door fly backward and unintentionally letting me inside. I drop my bags to the floor, eyes locking with Spencer’s and watching a fire light in them.

“Spencer,” my voice is still far too weak for my liking, “I’m not leaving.”

Spencer scoffs, slamming the door shut, just barely grazing my shoulder as it passes me. “Yeah, well, I want you to.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Spencer’s jaw tightens and his hands ball into fists at his side. He’s trying to stand tall and strong in front of me but he’s starting to crack by the millisecond. His chest heaves when he tries to choke back his tears and his eyelids start to flutter. If I wasn’t sure of the situation before I stepped inside, it surely has been confirmed right now. Spencer opens his mouth to speak and his chin trembles. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“Absolutely not,” I step closer to him but he steps backward, not allowing me to diminish the distance between us. “Spencer, please. Let me help you.”

His head drops, his shoulders caving in. “I don’t need help,” With his eyes on his feet and no longer on me, I take the opportunity to grab his arm. He tries to jerk away from me the second my fingertips brush the fabric of his shirt but I told him as tightly as I can. He whimpers in my hold and his crack start to get wider and wider. “Olive, please.”

“Just let me see, Spence,” I’m already begging and I’m already crying. “Let me see. Let me help. I’m here for you.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head away from me, his first tears dripping down his cheeks. He stops trying to escape my hold and just cries, his clothes clutched in his hands. It’s not an invitation whatsoever but I take it as one, rolling up Spencer’s sleeve past his elbow. The crook of his elbow is covered in track marks, some fading and some bright red and bloody. It takes every ounce of my energy not to break down right then and there as my worst fear comes true. But Spencer breaks down when his biggest secret is revealed, his knees giving out and his body tumbling to the floor. I follow him down, cradling him in my arms as he sobs into my chest. I shush him and stroke his hair, rocking him back and forth, like a child, to calm him down.

“It’s okay, Spencer, shh,” I coo, my fingertips coated in sweat as I coax my fingers through his knotty locks. “Everything is gonna be okay, my love. I’m here and I’m gonna help you.”

“No.”

“Yes. Spencer, look at me,” I don’t give him the option of where to bring his gaze to. I grab his cheeks and force his gaze up, his eyes bloodshot and his face soaking wet. “You can’t keep doing drugs. You’ll lose everything, you know that. You’ll lose your job, you’ll lose me, you’ll lose your life, you’ll-”

“I’ll lose you?” He’s never sounded more like a child than he does now. He’s whimpering and whining and crying out and clinging to me as tight as he can.

I give the hardest answer yet and I feel my heart break in my chest. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll leave. I can’t-”

Spencer starts to scramble to his knees, legs wobbling under his weight. “You can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. I love you, Olive. Don’t leave.”

I know it’s the drugs talking but it doesn’t make the confession hurt any less. The confession is what I’ve waited so damn long to hear. But it’s wrong right now. Admitting my love will do nothing but hurt both of us. Spencer isn’t in a good state of mind right now. He probably won’t even remember that he hastily confessed his love while trying to convince me not to leave him. I find myself forcing down tears yet again.

“I won’t leave you if you get clean,” I brush back his hair again and this time, it slicks back with sweat. “You can’t keep living your life like this, shooting up in bathrooms and hiding from your friends. Get some help and get clean. I can’t sit back and watch you destroy your life, a life that you worked so damn hard to get.”

Spencer collapses under his own weight, no longer able to sit up on his knees. He falls onto all fours, his head hanging between his shoulders and his tears falling onto the carpet. “I can’t do it. It’s so painful to stop. I need it to be happy. I need it to escape.”

I smooth my hands over his shoulders and where other people would probably feel tensed up muscles, I feel relaxed muscles as Spencer melts into my embrace. “Then let me take you to the hospital. They can help make the detox less painful. They can give you medication and you can get counseling and I’ll be there for as long as I’m allowed to be.”

“No, none of that. Here. I wanna do it here.” Spencer lifts his head, sniffling and huffing through his tears. “I’ll do it alone. Please leave. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Absolutely not,” I rise to my feet and lean down to help Spencer to his feet, baring all of his weight on my shoulders as we trudge towards his bedroom. “I’m not leaving you like this. I’m gonna call Hotch and get time off for both of us.”

Spencer lets out his millionth whimper of the night when he falls onto the bed, immediately curling up on his side and squeezing his eyes shut. “Please. Go.”

I kneel beside the bed, bringing my hand to his cheek and stroking his soft skin gently. The simple motion actually seems to calm him for a millisecond before he starts to shake, clearly being hit with an onslaught of chills from his inevitable fever. So I tug the blanket over his body and tuck him in, pressing my lips to his forehead. “I’m not gonna abandon you, Spencer. I’m gonna help you through this and you’re gonna return to your happier, drug-free self. You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

I stayed true to my promise. I didn’t leave Spencer alone for a single second while he suffered through withdrawal. I washed his vomit and sweat-soaked sheets. I wiped his tears and held him when he cried. I dragged him from room to room when he didn’t have the energy to carry his own weight. I cooked him food on the rare occasions that he was actually hungry. I whispered sweet nothings in his ear when he needed the reassurance that someone actually cares. I located his stash of needles and excess vials and threw them in the dumpster outside, not even wanting to risk leaving them in a trashcan in the apartment. There is no doubt in my mind that Spencer wouldn’t have gotten through this without me. I was harsh with him when he begged for ‘just one more hit’ and I held him when he woke up screaming in the middle of the night. There is no doubt in my mind that Spencer would have given in to his cravings and started this mess all over again.

After two weeks, Spencer starts to get better. He is able to walk without assistance and he can eat two meals a day without throwing it up ten minutes later. It’s a relief and the sun finally starts to shine through the clouds that had been lingering for too long. He still needed at least another week off of work to work up his strength and catch up on sleep in order to not look like the living dead and Hotch starts to get suspicious of such an extended time off. I tell him not to ask and for some reason, he listens. Maybe he just knows and is glad that someone else dealt with Spencer at his lowest point. Yeah, that’s probably it.

After three weeks and a promising night where Spencer makes me dinner for the first time in weeks, we return to work. The team is happy to see us and they don’t question why we were both gone for so long. But I’m almost positive it’s the same reason that Hotch didn’t question the time off.

I made sure to visit Spencer in his hotel room and I always, somehow, made sure that he was never in a room alone. One night of being alone could make him spiral and that is the last thing he needs. So if he was in a room alone then I would sneak out of mine and sleep with him. It seemed like he started to enjoy sleeping in the same bed as me, opting to cuddle me close to his chest instead of turning his back to me. His confession always seemed to echo in my mind when he would kiss my head or squeeze my waist but it was just the drugs talking. He didn’t mean it.

One month clean and Spencer seemed to be doing amazing. He boasted about how he deleted his drug dealer’s number from his phone and how he would eat meals without me reminding him to and how he could be on his feet for more than twenty minutes without being winded and needing to sit. I don’t think I had ever felt so proud of a human being until I shoved all my pride onto Spencer. Sure, he didn’t necessarily want to get the help that I gave him, but he went along with it and it’s a joy to see him return to his old happy-go-lucky self.

But then the team gets called into a meeting. The phonecall wakes me up in the middle of the night and sends me rushing to get dressed in something other than pajamas, but I just wind up putting on new sweats. I rush out the door and to the vacant building, throwing my holster on my hip and riding the elevator up. I blurt out a load of apologies for y lateness as I stumble into the conference room and realize I’m the last two arrive.

“Aww,” Morgan coos sarcastically as I sit down beside him, “it was so nice if you to get dressed up for us!”

“I swear to god,” I hiss, but he knows I’m just teasing, “if you don’t shut up right now then I’ll-”

“Okay,” Hotch shuts me up far too easily, standing at the front of the table with his arms crossed, “we’re all here. Let’s start.”

“Is this a new case?” Emily wonders, eyes darting between Hotch and the table that is usually filled with case files.

“No,” he sighs and looks down at his feet, and this is probably the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him before. “Tonight-”

“Wait,” I sit up and glance around, suddenly alarmed, “We’re not all here. Spencer isn’t here.”

Hotch holds his hands up to me in his second way of telling me to shut up. “I know that. He already knows what I’m about to tell you all.” This does absolutely nothing to erase the red flags in my mind. “I know we all struggled with our last case, and Gideon struggled the most, for obvious reasons. Tonight, Spencer went to his cabin to check on him. It turns out that Gideon had left a note for Spencer to say goodbye and he has sent in his resignation. He has officially left the BAU.”

Okay, listen, I barely knew the man. I haven’t been on this team for too long and Gideon favored talking to Hotch and Spencer. He didn’t interact with me much at all, except to correct me, so I’m not too torn up about his departure. Yes, he just created a huge hole that needs to be filled but that’s not my main concern. Spencer is. He isn’t here and he just learned that the man who has been his father figure for years just abandoned him in the same way that his father did when he was a child. Nobody should be alone at a time like this, and Spencer especially shouldn’t.

JJ is the first to ask a question but I don’t even hear it. Hotch answers and Emily follows and then Penelope is squealing and Morgan shouts over everyone and it’s far too crazy. I just need to know that Spencer is okay. He is the only thing I care about. He made so much amazing progress and he absolutely can’t erase that.

“I need to go.” I blurt out suddenly, standing from the round table and rushing out of the building. I call Spencer relentlessly and get no answer. I go straight to voicemail every time. I slam on my gas pedal.

I don’t lock my car and I barely remember to close my door before I’m bounding up the stairs and to his apartment. I couldn’t care less about the other residents who are probably fast asleep by now. I bang on Spencer’s door, shouting his name once, twice, three times, and get nothing. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“Spencer! Come on, open up!” I cry out, jiggling the handle and hoping it’s unlocked. “Please! Let me in!” The energy radiating from the apartment makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I take two steps back and breathe in a deep breath, preparing me for whatever could be on the other side of this stupid door. I’ll never be ready to see what I know is waiting for me. I lift my foot up and slam it against the door, the lock snapping and allowing the door to fly open. I burst inside, shouting Spencer’s name frantically as my eyes search desperately for his adorable curls and his soft cardigans.

It takes me no more than thirty seconds of frantic running to find Spencer. When I do, I wish desperately that I hadn’t.

His body is slumped against the bathtub, head hanging backward and his mouth wide open. His shirt is off and a rubber band is still tied around his bicep. The bathroom wreaks of vomit and there’s a needle in the sink and a broken vial on the floor. He looks haunting similar to the crime scenes we observe every day.

I drop to my knees in front of him and grab onto his cheeks, lifting his head up. “Spencer?” My sobs are uncontrollable as my thumbs stroke his freezing cold skin, searching for some sort of life. “Come on, baby,” I resist the urge to shake his head in my hands. “Spence, please, wake up!”

I wait for another second. I get nothing. No eyelids fluttering. No sniffles. No coughing. No vomiting. No screaming. No crying. Nothing. There’s nothing left.

Working through my sobs, I reach into my backpack and fish out the little box I’m searching for. I set it aside momentarily and try to gather Spencer in my arms as best as I can, pushing and dragging him until he is laying on his back in the most comfortable way his lanky body will allow in the cramped bathroom. Gosh, if only Spencer was conscious. He would be freaking out about being on the bathroom floor.

I pull out the nasal spray and administer the Narcan into Spencer’s nostril, tossing it aside and then rolling Spencer onto his side. I don’t dare to tear my eyes away from him, even as I fish my phone out of my backpack and call 911. I babble on about there being a federal agent down and how I’m a federal agent who administered a dose of Narcan and how someone needs to help Spencer now but it all seems like a foreign language to me. Nothing is right anymore. The operator tells me someone will be there soon and to stay on the line, so I set my phone down and lean closer to Spencer.

“Spence?” I wait for a reaction. “Sweetheart, come on, don’t do this to me,” my tears fall onto the floor and create a puddle beside his hands. My trembling hand reaches out to push his hair back, admiring the way his locks curl around my fingers. I admire the way for eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks and how beautiful his lips look. I wish I kissed him when I had the chance. Now I might never get the chance to be with him. The thought makes me cry harder and I double over in agony, crying out for the love that I will never get to have and for the life I will never get to live. I should have told him I loved him when he said it first. How could I be so stupid?

I have no recollection of the paramedics arriving. Being pulled away, kicking and screaming Spencer’s name, is a complete blur of smeared lines and flashes of light. I do what I can to erase the image of Spencer being carried out on a stretcher, his rubberbanded arm dangling off the side, and into an ambulance. I clutch Spencer’s hand and shut out the words of the paramedics as the ambulance speeds to the hospital. I barely even recall being plopped in a waiting room and being told to await further instructions.

I slide down the wall and tuck my head between my knees, hoping that being bent over will minimize the volume of my cries. But it doesn’t and sobs take over my body, leaving me shaking and quivering. If Spencer were with me, he would hold my hand and quietly tell me how many germs are on this floor and statistics on how easy it is to catch and infection in a hospital. He would talk to distract me from the horrible situation going down. But he’s not here and I’m alone and there’s nothing I can do to help.

“Olive?” I ignore Hotch’s voice when I hear it. I pay no attention to his softer than usual tone and I don’t dignify his presence by acknowledging it. I keep my head down and clutched between my knees and try to quiet my cries. Hotch crouches down beside me and tells me how he was notified of the situation and how the team is on the way but I ignore him. He never cared about Spencer before so why should he now?

True to his word, the rest of the team has arrived at the hospital within ten minutes. They form a circle in front of me and bounce around questions about what happened. Is he alive? How much did he take? What did he take? Where is he now? They never address me directly and just keep shooting questions around and receive no answers. It’s exhausting to listen to. I’m exhausted.

“Hey, Olive?” Penelope crunches next to me in the same way Hotch did, placing her hand on my shoulder. I shake it off. She pauses before speaking again. “Could you tell us what happened?”

For the first time, I lift my head. Everyone is in their pajamas and looking just a little less distressed than me. I’m sure I look horrendous. I surely feel horrendous. I’ve never felt worse in my life. I’ve never loved a person so much just to have them ripped out of my life. If Spencer doesn’t recover from this, I know I never will.

“He,” I lift my hands to wipe my cheeks but stop mid-air, wondering just how many germs are on my skin, “overdosed. To my knowledge, he’s been clean for a month and-and-” my lips quiver again, “I guess Gideon leaving was too much for him to handle. He thought he needed drugs to make him feel better.”

JJ leans into Emily’s side, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why didn’t he just call one of us instead of going straight to drugs? We all would have dropped what we were doing and gone to help him.”

The absolutely idiotic statement sets me on fire. I clamber to my feet, sadness replaced with anger within a millisecond. “Really? Would you have?”

JJ furrows her eyebrows and looks to the team for more support. “Of course. Spencer is one of my best friends.”

“We all would have helped him,” Morgan adds.

“Oh, really?” I sneer at them. “Were you there to help him last month when he was detoxing? Did any of you come to see why Spencer and I took three weeks off from work without warning? No! None of you texted or called or visited like real friends do. Did you even care that he obviously had a drug problem? Did any of you notice?”

Emily scoffs at the accusation, her anger starting to rise to mine. “Of course we did! I even asked him about it once and-”

“Once!” I let out the most sarcastic laugh that has ever dripped from my lips. Sleeping patients be damned, I will let out my anger at these inferior ‘friends’ and tell them the truth they need to hear. “You asked him once? Well, I spent three weeks living at his apartment, cooking, cleaning, holding him, reassuring him that he would be okay. And all you did was ask him about it once?” The realization is starting to set in on their faces that maybe this issue is bigger than they thought. “He needed real help and support from his friends, and yeah, he had me but he would have done a lot better if he had all of his closest friends supporting him.” They all fall silent, as they should. They stare at me and each other and everyone cries over their friend who they should have helped.

“Olive,” Hotch murmurs, “when you gave him the Narcan, did he wake up?”

This prompts more tears. “No.”

“Spencer Reid?”

I whip around as fast as I can at the sound of a doctor approaching, leaving the team in the dust to approach him. “Hi, yeah, I’m here for Spencer Reid. I’m his emergency contact.”

The doctor smiles at me and he waves me along, leading me away from the blabbering BAU and towards a room. “So,” the doctor says, “he’s extremely lucky. You administered the Narcan just in time. A few more minutes and Mr. Reid probably wouldn’t have made it.” I barely pay attention to the looming fear of Spencer’s death. If I hadn’t gone running out of the team meeting, Spencer would have died. “We’ve given him the proper medication, he’s in this room, and he should be waking up soon. When he’s feeling better, we can talk about proper treatment and recovery for Mr. Reid.”

I thought that maybe I cried all the tears my body could handle but that is proven wrong. He’s going to be okay. Going through detox again will be hell but now he can get professional help. He’s going to be okay.

I step into Spencer’s room. The sight of him lying in the bed is reminiscent of him lying on the bathroom floor and it makes my head pounds and my heart break. His elbow is bandaged up so his track marks are hidden and his hair is a matted down mess. But even lying there, helpless and in pain, he still looks like the man I fell in love with. The man who learned to braid hair and actually drove a car a few times and went shopping with me just to make me happy. He’s a shell of the man I love but he’s there and I know we will meet again soon.

Spencer starts to stir a moment later, tossing his head side to side gently. I creep over and slide my hand in his, squeezing softly. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet but there are tears streaming down his cheeks, soaking the top hem of his hospital gown. His hand tightens around mine and suddenly, my cheeks match his.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I breathe out, bringing our hands up to my lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “you’re okay. Everything is gonna be okay.”

Spencer lets out a high pitched moan, his head rolling over to face me. “I’m sorry,” he slurs out. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t mean it, Spence. I’m not mad. Just relax. I’ll be right here,” without letting go of his hand, I reach over and push a chair against the side of the bed. “Get some rest.”

“You won’t leave me?”

“No, Spence. I’m never gonna leave you.”

#nikos writing #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x oc

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solohux · 5 years ago

Note

OMG YES! Padawan Ben gets pregnant during Jedi training (one night stand with a red haired stranger named Hux ;) ) and he tries to keep it secret. Soon he starts to show and everyone is pretty disappointed in him. Except for Luke who is surprisingly chill, just concerned for Ben. And it’s Luke who takes care of Ben when he gets really big, and just supports him no matter what! Maybe he even suggests finding the father? (No incest plz just uncle loooove) love ya Lottie :) /NB

(I’m putting these two prompts together because they’re super similiar, hope that’s okay!)

Anger, frustration, embarrassment, fear, shame—

Ben slams the door of his private chambers, making the entire hut shake with the force, though he’s sure that his flurry of intense emotions are partly responsible. He’s so overwhelmed; hearing the gossiping whispers and judgemental thoughts of his fellow padawans about his unborn child and the actions that lead to this point.

Whore, disgrace, disappointment, burden. Even as Ben sinks down onto his bed and presses his palms against his forehead, he can still hear their venomous words echoing inside of his minds like clanging gongs. Impossible to ignore.

He runs his hands over the curve of his eight month-pregnant belly, whispering ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ to his baby, wishing he could shield her from the harshness of the galaxy forever. He wishes he could fly away somewhere, just himself and her, away from judgemental eyes.

“Ben?” It’s Uncle Luke, knocking so very softly on the door.

“I don’t want to see anyone.”

“I’m not anyone. I feel your sadness, young one. Please, let me in.”

Wanting comfort, Ben waves his hand and summons the Force to unlock the door and let his Uncle in. Luke, in his cream robes and wearing a gentle expression, enters slowly and closes the door behind him, locking out the prying eyes of everyone else.

“Al’ia said—” Ben starts but Luke puts his hand on his knee, halting him.

“I know what she said and it’s uncalled for. I’ll deal with her but I wanted to check on you first. Your anger almost tore down the meditation chamber.”

“Sorry.”

“Shush, young one,” Luke tuts, raising his eyebrows at his nephew. “Your intense feelings are justified.”

“But a Jedi shouldn’t feel anger like this.”

“A Jedi should not pass judgement on something that has nothing to do with them. That hasn’t seemed to stop half of the padawans making comments about you or the child. I think a little bit of frustration is a drop in the ocean of their prejudice.”

Ben shrugs, keeping his focus on his steady breathing and finding his baby’s presence through the Force. It’s quiet and faint but she’s there, and when he finds her, everything feels right again.

“She’s telling you to be calm,” Luke says, scooting over to sit beside Ben on the bed and then reaching to place his hand on a free space on the bump. “Can you feel her?”

“She’s restless,” Ben frowns. The baby kicks on cue.

“She can feel your turmoil. Strong with the Force, just like you. Your mother always spoke about how she knew you could feel her emotions when she was pregnant. Perhaps it’s a Skywalker thing. Is her father a Force sensitive?”

Ben’s expression falters at the mention of his daughter’s sire. The night that Ben spent with him was the best of his life, only to be ruined in the morning when the stranger adorned a First Order uniform and asked Ben to join him. He failed to tell Ben his surname, only Armitage, hiding the fact that he’s the son of one of the most corrupt men that the Outer Rim has ever seem. Imperials and the dreaded dark side are the reason that his mother doesn’t have a home planet, the reason that his mother and uncle had to be separated at birth, the reason why his namesake isn’t alive today. Ben recalls slapping Armitage’s hand away and feeling every ounce of warm happiness that flooded him in the last twenty four hours evaporate from him with just a single move.

He hasn’t heard from Armi—Hux since.

“No,” Ben replies, finally.

Luke hums, acknowledging. He moves slowly to wipe a stray tear from Ben’s cheek. Ben hadn’t realised that he’d been crying.

“Perhaps it’s time to track him down. You’ve less than a month to go to the birth,” Luke says. “He’d want to know about his child, I’m sure. We can ask your father and Lando to do some research, ask around to find him—”

“I know where he is.”

Luke frowns, “You do?”

“He’s made General. General Hux, the youngest of his rank in the history of the galaxy.”

“If he weren’t a First Order officer, I’d say that’s impressive.” Luke smiles but Ben isn’t amused. He fell so hard for Hux and paid the price for it. “Ben. My boy.”

Luke pulls Ben towards him in a hug, allowing Ben a moment to adjust his belly to get comfortable against him, with Ben’s head leaning against his Uncle’s shoulder whilst Luke’s arms encompass him. The Force surrounds them like a protective bubble, covering them in a warm and comforting presence that Ben feels extend to his baby. Inside him, she settles.

“I miss him,” Ben admits.

“I know,” Luke kisses the top of his head, sending waves of his own calming energy to his heartbroken nephew. “And I think he must miss you too.”

Ben closes his eyes, feeling sleepy and exhausted, feeling safe and protected in his uncle’s presence.

And across the galaxy, on a star destroyed named the Finalizer, General Armitage Hux lies awake in his bed, his thoughts fixated on of the beautiful man he almost had, dreaming of his dark hair and his pale skin, his wanderlust-filled eyes and his sparkling personality. Ben, Armitage repeats the name in his mind, wondering where he is and if he’s safe, but Armitage’s attention is grabbed suddenly by an echoing sound of a baby’s cry, there one moment and gone the next.

Peculiar, he thinks, rolling over and closing his eyes, willing sleep to come. When it does, he dreams of Ben and the life they could have had; a beachside house with a beautiful view, and a pink nursery inside.

#kylux #benarmie #mpreg #pregnant ben #pregnant kylo #WRITE A DRABBLE FFS LOTTIE #this is 1k #lord help me #luke skywalker

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wennjunwho · 7 years ago

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✨Neighbor! Jun text au pt.24.3✨

Ft. Jun’s text POV, Jun’s GF and the elephant in the room

You pushed the door letting it close behind you, your eyes snapping shut as soon as you heard the bang. It took every ounce of strength you had not to completely fall apart right then and there. Your eyes were already slowly filling with tears; you could barely even see anything beyond them. You knew it had to happen, you knew this was for the best and still it took all the energy you had to get to the couch.

It took you a few moments to calm yourself down, your brain doing summersaults around what had just happened. Everything kept going so fast, you could see the words; you could see Jun’s face yet nothing made sense. Your mind was trying to comprehend what it all meant, but nothing quite seemed to add up. It took a good half an hour for the first coherent thought to come out.

Why didn’t you come last night?

You tried to avoid Jun, he was supposed to be at dance practice by the time you got home, but luck hated you and Jun’s door lock had decided to mess up today. You tried to avoid his gaze, tried to avoid the familiar glimmer of his eyes against the hallway light, trying to avoid your feelings again.

“Why didn’t you come last night?” You couldn’t quite answer, at least not the truth. You couldn’t say the real reason, not when your brain was still trying to convince you otherwise.

“Huh?”

“To the party… I know we haven’t been talking that much but I really thought you would be there.” His voice was way too deep, too distance, almost as if he wasn’t talking to you.

Your thoughts kept battling each other, it was a lie or die and you weren’t sure which one you’d rather choose. “I wanted to…” lie. “I just had too much work, Uni’s been crazy lately; I’ve been taking night classes all semester.” You finally got the strength to look up, Jun’s eyes darkened immediately.

Jun let out a muffled laugh. You expected to see anger, but there he was, standing, his eyes pleading for you to prove him wrong. “I really don’t mean anything to you, do I?” You could feel the words cut his tongue, there was a heartbeat for every word he had just said, a shattered piece making its way up and down your throat.

“What are you even on about?” Your hands kept shaking, your voice unsure.

“You weren’t at uni last night, brat.” he said the last word like poison, like it was hurting him to keep it inside his mouth. His eyes were shinning too much, you could see the reflation of the celling lights on Jun’s pupils, it’s weird how tears can make eyes look like galaxies. “Do I mean that little to you that you have to lie to me?”

“Jun you don’t… I haven’t...” Your words were uncoherent; you could see them in front of you, mocking the way your tongue got stuck on the words. You don’t mean little to me. I haven’t lied to you.

“(YN), am I really that bad of a friend that you wouldn’t tell me about you and Wonwoo?” His voice was rough all of a sudden, like he had held them inside him for too long, you couldn’t help but to snap your eyes shut at the sound of your real name on his lips. “Did I really lose you so badly you wouldn’t even tell me?”

“Jun, what are you on about? We’re not together.”

“Stop lying to me, he answered your phone last night.” The words sunk in slowly, you sighted audibly.

“So?” You didn’t want to say that. Your brain wanted to ask why he had called, your heart needed to know if he had called for the same reasons you hoped he had. But your mouth was quicker.

“Brat, I’m not stupid.” Jun’s words had turned faster, as if he just needed to take all of them out. “His breath was all wonky, and he said you fell asleep, I know what post sex breath sounds like.”

You wanted to yell at him. Wanted to tell him you missed the party because you couldn´t bare looking at him, not after how long it took you to realize you loved him. “You’re delusional.”

Jun ran his fingers through his hair, pulling harder than intended. “Then why would you stop showing up? (YN), I’m trying so hard to understand, to find a single reason why my best friend in the entire world would miss my birthday…” He stopped to look at the ceiling, the words kept hurting, one after the other, cutting his tongue and breaking your bones at the same time. “Please just tell me the truth (YN), please.” Jun looked at you in the eyes, the same way he had that night at your apartment, the one you were sure he was too drunk to remember; the way he did when he kissed you the night of your birthday, the same way he had always looked at you in the eyes, begging for you to speak up.

“You’re right.” The words were bitter against your throat; there was something about lying to Jun that made every single word taste like cyanide. “About me and Wonwoo, you’re absolutely right.”

Jun exhaled sharply, as if trying to expel the words you had just said out of his being. He was so out of it he couldn’t even read through your lie. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Look at us Jun.” The words turned out harsher than you expected. “We barely even see each other and we live next door. I didn’t think you would care.” You could feel the pressure in between your eyebrows; you tried to speak past the knot in your throat. “Tell me I’m wrong.” It was more of a plea, it was the last attempt you were willing to give, your vision was starting to get blurry and Jun just appeared to be further away.

“I can’t.” Jun hid his gaze from yours. The hallway didn’t feel like your home anymore, your relationship didn’t feel like it anymore either.

You tried to hold his gaze once again, keeping the tears at the edge. “Exactly.” Silence. “Goodbye, Jun.”

You sat down on the couch, holding the glass of water as closely as you could. There was something about losing Jun, something about those last words you said. You wanted it to stop, you wanted the world to stop, you wanted to go back to that night at your apartment when he first told you he loved you, or to the night of your birthday when he showed you he did. You wanted to go back, you wanted to hold him again; you wanted to speak up for once.

But now it’s too late. Why do goodbyes always seem so final?

AN: First of all, I know its long, like VERY long but they couldnt have this conversation over text. Also plz remember Jun’s girlfriend is actually and angel and i don’t want you to hate her, she threw a great party and she’s just very nice. Appart from that there’s only 25.1 and 25.2 PLUS the epilogue left, so yeah, enjoy!

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