#i could write a one shot about this if i knew how therapy worked

[turtleplushi]

Meta Knight needs so much therapy, if only there was a therapist in Cappy Town that could-

[reidmarieprentiss]

Short Shorts & Long Hair

Summary: Spencer does NOT want to go to physical therapy, but the pretty physical therapist might make it not so bad.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x PT fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: injury, suggestive content (16+), alcohol consumption, insecurities, rejection, use of Y/N

Word count: 11.6k

a/n: i went through pt with a huugggeeee crush on my physical therapist ,, wish they were single :(((

main masterlist part two

After Spencer Reid is shot in the thigh during a case, the last thing he wants is to endure the grueling process of physical therapy. The thought of being touched, poked, and prodded by a stranger, let alone being intensely monitored, fills him with dread. Convinced that he can handle the recovery on his own, Spencer drafts a fake doctor’s note claiming he’s fit to perform his own therapy. Unfortunately for him, neither Hotch nor his orthopedic surgeon finds the attempt amusing. Despite his protests, Spencer is left with no choice but to attend physical therapy sessions, which also means being grounded from fieldwork and unable to join his team on cases. 

—

The atmosphere in the room was thick with a tension that only Spencer Reid seemed oblivious to as he sat at his desk, meticulously writing out what could have passed as an official-looking note. His expression was one of deep concentration, brow furrowed in that familiar way as he carefully crafted each word, determined to convince anyone who might read it that he, Dr. Spencer Reid, was fully capable of managing his own recovery. 

"To whom it may concern, Dr. Spencer Reid is fully capable of performing his own physical therapy regimen. As a medical professional and an expert in several fields, he does not require the services of an external physical therapist. Please excuse him from any mandated sessions."

He read over the note once more, satisfied with his work, before folding it neatly and tucking it into an envelope. It was the perfect plan, he thought after all, who knew his body better than he did? He could research the most effective exercises, monitor his own progress, and avoid the discomfort of being intensely scrutinized by someone else. The thought of a stranger's hands on him, manipulating his body and injured leg, made his stomach turn. Spencer was resolute—he could handle this on his own.

But just as he was about to place the envelope on Hotch's desk, ready to hand it over with the casual nonchalance of a doctor delivering a prescription, the door to the office swung open. Aaron Hotchner stepped in, his usual stoic expression firmly in place. He caught sight of the envelope in Spencer's hand and the somewhat guilty look on the younger agent's face.

"Reid," Hotch said, his voice even but with a hint of curiosity, "what's that?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment, knowing full well that Hotch wouldn't be easily convinced by his little stunt. But he decided to try anyway. "It's, um, a note. From me. For me. You see, I don't think I need to go to physical therapy. I’ve written a statement explaining that I can handle my own recovery. It’s all very professional."

Hotch's brow arched slightly as he reached out, taking the envelope from Spencer's hand. He opened it and quickly scanned the contents, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he looked up, meeting Spencer's eyes with a look that was both stern and almost amused.

"Spencer, you can't write your own doctor's notes. And even if you could, this isn’t a joke. Physical therapy is a necessary part of your recovery, and it’s not something you can just skip or handle on your own."

"But, Hotch—" Spencer began, his voice tinged with frustration. "I know what needs to be done. I don’t need someone else to tell me how to stretch or exercise. I can do the research, follow the protocols—"

"That’s not the point," Hotch interrupted, his tone firm. "Physical therapy isn’t just about the exercises. It’s about having a trained professional guide you through the process, ensure you’re doing it correctly, and adjust your treatment as needed. It’s about having someone to push you when you’re too tired or in too much pain to push yourself. You’re not invincible, Spencer."

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but the look in Hotch’s eyes stopped him. There was no room for negotiation. 

"And," Hotch continued, "I know your orthopedic surgeon would agree. I spoke with them earlier today. They were very clear that you need to attend every session if you want to make a full recovery. This isn’t optional."

Spencer felt the weight of Hotch’s words settling over him, heavy and unavoidable. He hated the idea of being in a clinical setting, of being vulnerable in front of someone else, of having to admit that he needed help. But he also knew that Hotch was right. Skipping therapy wasn’t just about avoiding discomfort—it was about jeopardizing his recovery and potentially his career.

"But if I go to therapy, I won’t be able to fly with the team," Spencer said, his voice quieter now, the frustration giving way to a sense of helplessness.

Hotch’s expression softened, just a little. "I know. And I know how hard that is for you. But your health comes first. You’ll still be a part of the team, but you need to take care of yourself. We can handle things in the field until you’re ready to come back."

Spencer nodded, though the idea of being left behind still gnawed at him. He could already imagine the isolation, the endless hours of exercises and stretches, the frustration of not being able to work cases with his team. But there was no getting around it. This was his reality now.

"Alright," Spencer finally said, his voice resigned. "I’ll go to the therapy sessions."

"Good," Hotch replied, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder in a rare gesture of support. "It’s the right decision. And remember, we’re all here for you, no matter what."

Spencer gave a small nod, appreciating the sentiment even as the prospect of therapy loomed over him like a dark cloud. He watched as Hotch left the office, the door clicking softly shut behind him. The room seemed quieter now, and Spencer sat there for a moment, the now-crumpled note still in his hand.

The first session was scheduled for tomorrow morning, and Spencer could already feel the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. He wasn’t ready for this—not physically, not mentally. But it was happening, whether he liked it or not. And as much as he wished he could write himself out of it, this was one situation where even Spencer Reid had to admit that he couldn’t do it all on his own.

—

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains as Spencer reluctantly eyed the outfit his surgeon recommended. Loose-fitting clothes were manageable, but the shorts—revealing his pale, scarred leg—were far from his usual style. They made him feel vulnerable, a stark contrast to the comfort of his usual slacks and cardigans. With a resigned sigh, he slipped into the shorts and a loose t-shirt, feeling exposed.

Crutching out of his apartment, every step reminded him of his injury, amplifying his discomfort. The short drive to the physical therapy center only heightened his anxiety; the building felt more like a fortress than a place of healing.

Once inside, the overly cheerful receptionist bombarded him with questions, each interaction grating on his nerves. Finally, he was led to a private room—a sterile, clinical space that made him feel even more on edge. As he gingerly lowered himself onto the padded table, his leg throbbing slightly, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming session, dreading the inevitable discomfort and the loss of control. The door would open soon, and a stranger would take charge, leaving him with no escape.

At last, a small knock echoed through the room before the door creaked open, revealing a young woman who couldn’t have been older than her mid-20s. Spencer’s breath caught for a moment—she was gorgeous, even in her casual athletic wear, her presence both striking and unexpectedly comforting.

“Hello, Spencer Reid?” you asked with a warm smile that seemed to light up the room. “I’m Dr. Y/L, but you can call me Y/N.”

"Hi, yes, I'm Spencer. Nice to meet you," he said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of politeness and underlying nervousness.

"Nice to meet you too, Spencer," you replied with a warm smile as you settled in front of the computer, pulling up his chart. "Let's see... you got shot in the thigh, ouch. How did that happen, if you don't mind me asking?"

Spencer shifted slightly, the memory still fresh. "Uh, no, that's fine. I was chasing an unsub. I work for the FBI."

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Oh wow! That's cool... and painful. I'm sorry about that."

He gave a small shrug, trying to downplay the severity. "It comes with the job."

"I suppose it does," you said, nodding thoughtfully. "Anyway, let's get some basic info about how you're doing since surgery."

Together, you went through the routine baseline questions, Spencer answering each one with careful honesty. His responses were detailed, though you could sense a certain reluctance in his tone, as if he was holding back from fully engaging in the process.

"And finally, Spencer... what is your mobility like? Can you bend your knee?" you asked, glancing up from the computer to observe his reaction.

"Uh, a little," he replied, his discomfort becoming more evident as your attention shifted to his exposed leg.

"Can you show me, please?" you asked gently, trying to ease the tension.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then slowly bent his knee, his movements tentative. Your eyes followed the motion, taking note of the stiffness and the clear effort it required.

"Okay, good… now, how far can you bend your other knee? In fact, do you mind if I measure? That way, we can compare later down the line to see the progress you're making," you explained, keeping your tone encouraging and professional.

"Mhm, fine," he murmured, giving a small nod of consent.

You moved closer with a measuring tool in hand, your focus entirely on ensuring accuracy. Spencer, on the other hand, felt his cheeks flush slightly under your scrutiny. The vulnerability of the situation, coupled with the physical closeness, made him acutely aware of every small movement. 

"Alright," you said after taking the measurements, offering him a reassuring smile. "We'll track these numbers as we go, and you'll be able to see just how much progress you're making. It might not feel like it now, but you'll get there."

Spencer nodded again, his nerves calming slightly at your supportive demeanor. Despite his initial reluctance, he was starting to see that this process, uncomfortable as it was, might just be what he needed.

"Okay, for today, we don't have to push you too far," you began, your tone gentle yet encouraging. "We'll just start with some easy movements to get a baseline for where you're at. How does that sound?"

"That's fine," Spencer replied, his voice steady, though there was still a hint of tension beneath the surface.

Together, you guided him through a series of basic movements, carefully observing how his injured leg compared to his non-injured one. Spencer followed your instructions with quiet focus, doing his best to move as much as he could without aggravating the injury. As you made your way down the list, you noted the differences in flexibility and strength, mentally preparing a plan for his recovery.

When you reached the last item on your list, you looked up from your notes. "Alright, Spencer, I'd like you to try flexing your quad. This is important because you'll need to be able to engage those muscles when you're ready to start walking again."

"I know," Spencer said, his tone tinged with resignation and a touch of impatience, as if he was more than aware of what was expected of him but still not entirely comfortable with the process.

You nodded, acknowledging his understanding. "Oh, okay, yes, well..." you hesitated for a moment, wanting to ensure his comfort. "Can I put my hand on your leg, Spencer? It'll help me gauge the muscle engagement."

Spencer looked at you for a brief moment, the vulnerability in his eyes evident. But he gave a small nod, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, that's fine."

You placed your hand gently on his leg, just above the injured area, making sure your touch was as light and non-intrusive as possible. "Alright, go ahead and flex for me."

Spencer did as you asked, and you could feel the slight tremor in the muscle as it tried to respond. It was clear that the road ahead would be challenging, but this was a crucial first step. 

"Good job, Spencer," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine encouragement. "This is the start, and we'll take it one step at a time. You'll get there, I promise."

"Thanks," Spencer muttered, his tone clipped but not intentionally rude. He was struggling to keep his frustration in check—not with you, but with the entire process. The vulnerability, the slowness of his progress, it all grated on him. But he couldn’t help but notice how kind and patient you were, never once letting his mood affect your demeanor.

You offered him a gentle smile, recognizing the weariness in his voice. "Alright, what do you say we call it a day?"

"Sounds good," Spencer replied, a bit of relief seeping into his tone. The session had been necessary, he knew that, but it was exhausting in more ways than one.

You helped him settle back into a comfortable position, gathering your notes and preparing to leave. "You did well today, Spencer. It's not easy, but you're making progress, even if it doesn't feel like it right now."

He gave a small nod, appreciating your words even if he didn’t fully believe them yet. As he watched you head for the door, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of gratitude. 

—

The next day, as Spencer made his way into the office, he immediately spotted Aaron Hotchner across the bullpen. Hotch was engaged in a conversation with another agent, but the moment he noticed Spencer, a subtle, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Spencer felt a mild irritation bubble up within him; he could already sense what was coming.

As he approached his desk, Hotch walked over, his expression that infuriating blend of concern and amusement. "Morning, Reid," Hotch greeted, his voice carrying that signature calm authority. "How did your first physical therapy session go?"

Spencer’s eyes narrowed slightly, detecting the faint smugness in Hotch’s tone. "It was… fine," he replied, trying to keep his voice even, though his annoyance was evident. He could tell Hotch was fishing for details, and it was clear that Hotch knew exactly how uncomfortable the whole experience had been for him.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing just a bit. "Just fine? No major complaints?"

Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No major complaints," he echoed, though the look on his face said otherwise.

Hotch nodded, clearly enjoying this a little too much. "Good. Just remember, Reid, it's important to follow through with these sessions. They'll make all the difference in your recovery."

"Yes, I’m aware," Spencer replied, his tone a touch sharper than he intended. He knew Hotch was right, but that didn’t make the process any less frustrating.

Hotch chuckled softly, not unkindly, and gave Spencer a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Hang in there, Spencer. You'll be back to chasing down unsubs in no time."

As Hotch walked away, Spencer let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. He knew Hotch meant well, but that didn’t stop him from being mildly annoyed at the subtle smugness in his boss’s demeanor. It seemed that, for now, Spencer would just have to endure the teasing—along with everything else this recovery was throwing at him.

—

At his next physical therapy session, Spencer walked in with a bit less tension in his shoulders, though he was still undeniably on edge. The familiarity of the setting, coupled with the fact that he knew what to expect, made things slightly easier. But the apprehension hadn’t fully dissipated. There was still the uncomfortable vulnerability that came with each session, the persistent reminder of his injury.

However, without the overwhelming cloud of nerves and frustration that had dominated his first visit, Spencer found himself noticing something different. As you greeted him with that same warm smile, guiding him through the initial check-in process, he couldn’t help but take in just how pretty you were. The realization caught him off guard, stirring a new wave of anxiety that he hadn’t anticipated. 

It wasn’t just your appearance—though that alone was enough to make his pulse quicken—but the way you carried yourself, the gentle confidence in your movements, and the patient way you spoke to him, even when he was less than cooperative. It was disarming, to say the least.

As the session progressed, and you asked him to move through the exercises, Spencer felt his heart rate increase—not just from the physical effort, but from the proximity, the way your hands occasionally brushed against his skin as you guided him. He tried to focus on the mechanics, on the steps you were instructing him through, but his mind kept drifting to the fact that you were so close, your attention entirely on him.

When you gently placed your hand on his leg to help him flex his quad, Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, the warmth of your touch sending a jolt through him. He knew it was purely professional, that you were just doing your job, but it didn’t stop the nervous flutter in his stomach.

“Doing okay, Spencer?” you asked, your voice soft as you glanced up at him, concern flickering in your eyes. You could sense the shift in his demeanor, though you weren’t sure what had caused it.

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered, his voice a little unsteady. “I’m fine.”

You smiled, giving his leg a light pat before continuing with the session. “You’re doing great.”

Spencer nodded, trying to steady his breathing. But the truth was, having your hands and eyes on him, especially now that he was fully aware of how attractive you were, was even more nerve-wracking than the physical exercises themselves. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious, worried that his unease was obvious.

As the session came to a close, Spencer felt a mix of relief and lingering nerves. He knew he’d be back, but the thought of facing these sessions with you—someone who was not only skilled and kind but also strikingly beautiful—added a new layer of complexity to an already difficult process.

—

As the weeks passed, a sense of familiarity began to settle between you and Spencer. It was inevitable, really—spending an hour together every week, working through the same routines, sharing small talk to fill the silence. The initial awkwardness had started to fade, replaced by a growing ease in each other's company. 

Spencer was still nervous around you, but it was a different kind of nervousness now. His crush had developed into something undeniable, and though it made his heart race whenever your hands brushed against him or you smiled in that particular way, he had learned to manage it. He even found himself engaging in playful conversation, something that had felt impossible during those first few sessions.

Today, as you guided him through another set of exercises, the conversation flowed naturally, the rapport between you evident.

“So, Spencer, any big plans this weekend?” you asked, your tone light and casual as you adjusted his leg for the next stretch.

Spencer, who had been concentrating on following your instructions, looked up with a faint smirk. “Yeah, I thought I might go skydiving,” he replied, deadpan, though his eyes twinkled with mischief.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the playful tone. “Hmm, sounds thrilling—and very safe,” you responded, matching his sarcasm.

He chuckled softly, a sound that was becoming more frequent as he grew more comfortable with you. “Yeah, I figured, why not? Might as well add another injury to the list, right?”

“Perfect plan,” you teased, giving his leg a gentle pat as you moved to the next exercise. “Just make sure to tell your orthopedic surgeon first. I’m sure they’ll love the idea.”

Spencer laughed, the tension in his body easing further with each passing moment. “I’m sure they’ll have a lot to say about it. But really, I’ll probably just catch up on some reading. Nothing too exciting.”

“Well, that sounds more like the Spencer I’ve come to know,” you said with a smile. “Anything interesting you’re reading?”

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should share, but your genuine curiosity encouraged him to open up. “Actually, I’ve been revisiting some classic science fiction—Isaac Asimov’s *Foundation* series. It’s been a while, and I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

You nodded, impressed. “That’s a great choice. I’ve always admired Asimov’s ability to weave complex ideas into his stories. You’ll have to let me know what you think when you finish.”

“I will,” Spencer promised, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of the session. These moments of connection, however small, were becoming something he looked forward to—a bright spot in what had been a difficult and frustrating process.

As the session wrapped up, Spencer found himself lingering a little longer than usual, reluctant to leave the comfortable rhythm you had developed together. 

—

During one of your sessions, as you guided Spencer through another set of stretches, the conversation drifted into more personal territory. Spencer, his curiosity getting the better of him, asked, "How old are you?"

You couldn’t help but tease him a little, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age?"

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he immediately started to apologize, stumbling over his words. "Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I just thought you looked so young."

You laughed, deciding to let him off the hook. "Why, thank you!" you said, exaggerating your response by pretending to flip your hair over your shoulder. "But I was just teasing, Spencer. I’m no lady," you added with a wink, enjoying the way it made him chuckle.

He relaxed a bit, his laughter easing the moment. "Well, now I’m even more curious."

"Alright, alright," you conceded with a grin. "I’m 26."

Spencer nodded, processing the information with a slight smile. "You’re younger than I thought… but somehow, that makes sense."

"Yeah? And how old did you think I was?" you asked, genuinely curious, your eyes fixed on him as you waited for his response.

Spencer shrugged, his expression thoughtful but with a hint of mischief. "I don’t know, maybe 50?"

You stared at him for a moment, deadpan, before replying with a sarcastic sweetness, "That’s so sweet of you, Spencer. Now tell me, am I supposed to push my thumb directly into your wound or just squeeze around it?"

His eyes widened in mock horror as he quickly backpedaled. "Neither! I’m sorry!" he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "You don’t look 50!"

"Yeah, well, you’re going to after I’m done with you," you shot back, a grin spreading across your face as you leaned in, pretending to consider where to apply pressure.

Spencer laughed, the tension melting away as the playful banter flowed between you. 

—

During another session, you glanced over at Spencer, who was carefully stretching his leg. "Okay, Spencer," you began, your tone encouraging, "let’s see if we can get a little more range of motion in your knee today. How’s it feeling?"

Spencer shrugged slightly. "Stiff, but manageable," he replied. "I’m trying not to overthink it."

You nodded in approval, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Good strategy. Just remember, slow and steady wins the race."

He met your gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I’ll keep that in mind… though I’ve never been very good at pacing myself."

—

Today you greeted him with a warm smile. "How’s the leg holding up today? Ready for some more fun?" you asked, your tone light and encouraging.

Spencer met your gaze with a playful grin, the tension from previous sessions now mostly replaced with a sense of friendship. "If by ‘fun’ you mean more quad exercises, then I can hardly contain my excitement," he quipped, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response, enjoying the banter that had developed between the two of you. "Don’t worry, I’ll make it as enjoyable as possible," you teased back, a mischievous glint in your eye. "We can always spice it up with some trivia."

At that, Spencer’s expression brightened even more. "Trivia? Now you’re speaking my language," he replied, clearly intrigued. "Just don’t go easy on me."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your voice as you responded, "Wouldn’t dream of it. Get ready, Spencer. I hope you’ve been studying."

—

"Alright," you began, today there was a hint of mischief in your voice as you glanced at him . "Let’s see if we can get a little more flexibility out of that knee today. I know it’s your favorite part."

Spencer’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "You’re really starting to understand my love for torture," he quipped, his tone laced with sarcasm, though there was a softness in his expression that suggested he didn’t mind the challenge as much as he pretended to.

You couldn’t help but laugh, playing along with a mock-serious look. "Well, if it helps, I think I’m getting better at dishing it out. But seriously, you’re doing great," you added, your voice turning more sincere as you looked at him, hoping to convey how much progress he had truly made.

Spencer tilted his head, the teasing glint in his eyes growing stronger. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he remarked, clearly enjoying the banter.

With a playful wink, you replied, "I’ll keep that in mind."

—

“Okay, Spencer, this one’s going to be a bit tougher. Ready?” you asked, glancing at him with a hint of challenge in your eyes during this session.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smirk. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” you replied, your smirk matching his. “But I promise, if you make it through this, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

Spencer’s other eyebrow joined the first, his interest piqued. “A bribe? How very professional of you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and teasing. “Hey, whatever works. Besides, I know your weakness for good coffee.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. “You’ve been paying attention. I might just have to hold you to that offer.”

“Deal,” you said with a playful wink, moving closer to guide him through the tougher exercises. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got, Dr. Reid.”

—

As Spencer walked into the therapy room for his session, he was greeted with a warm smile and a familiar, teasing tone. "How’s my favorite patient doing today?" you asked, your voice light and welcoming.

Spencer couldn’t help but return the smile, a playful glint in his eye as he replied, "Favorite? I’ll try not to let it go to my head."

You grinned, the banter between you both becoming second nature by now. "You’re lucky you’ve got that charm. Otherwise, I might make you do extra reps."

"I’ll remember that next time I’m tempted to be difficult," Spencer quipped, his tone just as playful, though there was a genuine warmth beneath it.

"Good plan," you said with a nod, before your expression softened slightly. "But seriously, you’re making great progress. Pretty soon, you’ll be back to chasing down unsubs."

Spencer’s smile grew a bit wider, the teasing still evident in his voice as he responded, "And I’ll be sure to tell them all about my excellent physical therapist."

A soft chuckle escaped you, and you met his gaze, your voice gentle as you said, "I’ll be waiting to hear that story."

—

While the team was out on a case, Spencer and Penelope found themselves working together in her Bat Cave, the hum of computers and the click of keys filling the otherwise quiet space. It was a rare moment of calm in their usually hectic lives, and Spencer appreciated the company, even if the work they were doing was still demanding.

“How’s Kevin?” Spencer asked, breaking the silence as he glanced over at Penelope.

Penelope paused for a moment, her fingers hesitating over the keyboard before she responded. “He’s… fine. We haven’t been on a date in a while.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Spencer inquired, his curiosity piqued.

“I’m not sure. We’re both busy, it’s not a big deal,” Penelope replied, her tone making it clear she didn’t want to delve too deeply into the subject. It was unlike her to brush off a topic so quickly, but Spencer respected her boundaries and decided not to press further.

Instead, Penelope shifted the focus, a mischievous glint in her eye as she asked, “How is your love life, Boy Wonder?”

Spencer snorted at the question, shaking his head. “Non-existent.”

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with a mix of sympathy and determination. “Do you want me to set you up with someone? I have single friends!”

“No, thank you, I’m okay,” Spencer replied quickly, his voice firm but kind. The last thing he needed was to be thrust into a blind date arranged by Penelope, well-meaning as she was.

Penelope pouted slightly but didn’t push the issue. “Okay… but think about it!” she added, her tone playful, though there was a hint of genuine concern behind it.

Spencer just smiled, appreciating her efforts but knowing that his mind was already occupied with someone else—someone who made him look forward to his weekly therapy sessions in a way he hadn’t expected. But that was something he wasn’t quite ready to share, not yet.

—

“Ow!” Spencer winced as a sharp pain shot through his leg, catching both of you off guard.

“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t mean to push too far. Are you okay?” Your voice was filled with concern as you immediately eased the pressure, your hands hovering just above his leg, ready to help if needed.

Spencer forced a small, embarrassed smile, trying to downplay the discomfort. “Yeah, hah, I’m fine,” he said, though his flushed cheeks told a different story.

You offered him a reassuring smile, sensing his unease. “It’s okay if we need to take a break.”

“Okay… maybe a little one,” he admitted, feeling a bit sheepish but grateful for the pause.

“For sure,” you said with a nod, standing up. “I’ll go get you some water.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, watching as you left the room. He let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort.

When you returned, Spencer couldn’t help but notice how stunning you looked today—though, in truth, he thought you looked gorgeous every day. But something about today caught his attention more than usual. Your pants were form-fitting, hugging your figure in a way that made it hard for him to focus on anything else. And your top… well, it clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating every curve, every roll, and, in this chilly room, every… bump. The air conditioning was doing its job a little too well.

Spencer quickly averted his gaze, feeling his face heat up, and hoped you hadn’t noticed the direction of his thoughts. He took the water you offered with a grateful nod, trying to distract himself from the sudden rush of awareness that had flooded his senses.

“Here you go,” you said, handing him the bottle with a warm smile. “Take your time, okay? We’ll go at your pace.”

“Thanks,” Spencer murmured, taking a sip of the cool water, though it did little to calm the warmth in his cheeks. He was still focused on recovering, but now there was an added layer of distraction—one that made the idea of these sessions both thrilling and terrifying.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay, doctor?” you asked, noticing the bright flush on Spencer’s face. Your concern was evident, your eyes searching his for any sign of discomfort beyond what he’d already admitted.

“Yes, doctor,” Spencer teased back with a small, sheepish grin. “Why?”

“Your face is really red,” you pointed out gently. “You can tell me if we need to be done for the day.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I promise,” he insisted, though the blush on his cheeks only deepened as he realized you’d noticed. He quickly tried to redirect the conversation. 

“Okay,” you said, still watching him carefully. “Let’s just rest for a bit. Can I sit?” You gestured to the patient bed where Spencer was currently resting.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, starting to scoot over to make room, but you plopped yourself down on the opposite end anyway, your casual movement making him relax a bit.

“So, um, do you have any fun plans for the weekend?” Spencer asked, eager to keep the conversation going and to steer it away from his embarrassment.

“Yeah, actually! I’m going to a new club with some friends,” you responded with a bright smile, clearly looking forward to it.

“Nice,” Spencer said, though internally, he had no idea what going to a club entailed. It wasn’t exactly his scene. Still, he was trying to be polite and keep the conversation light. “Will your boyfriend be going?”

Your brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but there was a playful glint in your eyes. “Who told you I have a boyfriend?”

Spencer felt his heart skip a beat, a pang of regret hitting him as he fumbled for words. “Uh, I just, um, assumed…”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, no, he’s not going. He’s not allowed in.”

“Oh,” Spencer said, confusion and curiosity in his voice. “Why?”

“They frown upon bringing dogs into clubs,” you replied with a grin, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

Spencer blinked, processing your words, before a wide smile spread across his face. “You had me there for a second.”

“Good,” you teased back, your laughter light and infectious. “I’m single, Spencer. Just me and my dog.”

Spencer’s heart, which had momentarily broken at the thought of you having a boyfriend, slowly pieced itself back together. The relief he felt was palpable, though he tried not to show it too much. “Well, your dog sounds like great company.”

“He is,” you agreed, still smiling as you settled more comfortably on the bed. “But it’s nice to have human company too.”

Spencer nodded, his own smile lingering as the tension between you two melted away, replaced by an easy, comfortable rapport that made him feel just a bit braver. “I’ll, um, have to think of something fun to do this weekend too.”

“Well,” you said, giving him a playful nudge with your foot, “if you need ideas, you know where to find me.”

—

Spencer had spent the weekend mentally preparing himself, trying to muster up the courage to take a step outside his comfort zone and maybe even visit the club you had mentioned. But as the days passed, the idea of loud music, crowded spaces, and unfamiliar social dynamics became more daunting than exciting. In the end, he stayed home, retreating to the familiar comfort of his books and routine. 

However, something had shifted in him after your last conversation. The way you had laughed, the playful teasing about your “boyfriend,” and the easy, comfortable rapport between you—it all made Spencer feel like maybe, just maybe, his attraction to you wasn’t as one-sided as he had feared. That small spark of hope ignited something in him, and by the time his next session rolled around, he was determined to push the boundaries of your interactions, just a little.

As soon as he walked into the room, he could tell there was a different energy in the air. You greeted him with your usual warm smile, but there was something in your eyes, a glint that made his heart race just a bit faster.

“Hey, Spencer,” you said, your voice bright as you guided him to the usual spot. “How was your weekend? Did you end up finding something fun to do?”

Spencer hesitated for a split second, then decided to go for it. “Well, I thought about going to that club you mentioned,” he began, watching your reaction carefully.

“Oh really?” you asked, clearly intrigued. “What happened? Did you chicken out?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “But I figured if I was going to do something that bold, I’d need a good reason. Maybe some company?”

Spencer's confidence had been steadily growing throughout the session, especially after the playful banter you shared earlier. But when you leaned in just a bit closer, your eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief, and said, “Company, huh? I’m sure you could find someone to go with you,” he felt a sudden drop in his stomach. 

He tried to keep the conversation going, hoping he hadn’t misread the situation entirely. “Yeah? Do you know anyone?” he asked, forcing a smile to mask the uncertainty creeping in.

You tilted your head, a teasing grin on your lips as you replied, “I can’t say I do, but if I find someone who screams ‘Spencer Reid,’ I’ll send them your way.” You finished with a wink before turning your attention back to the session.

Spencer’s heart sank. Had he completely misjudged the situation? Maybe his earlier confidence had been misplaced, and the connection he thought was there was just friendly banter after all. As you continued guiding him through the exercises, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of defeat, the playful atmosphere from earlier now tinged with doubt.

Later in the session, you left the room to grab one of the measuring tools you needed, leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. He leaned back on the patient bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to shake off the disappointment gnawing at him.

That’s when he heard voices in the hallway, one of them unmistakably yours. He wasn’t the type to eavesdrop, but curiosity—and maybe a bit of desperation—got the better of him. He strained to listen, his heart beating faster as he realized you were talking about him.

“You think he was going to ask you out?” said another female voice.

“I don’t know, it seemed like it,” you replied, your tone carrying a hint of uncertainty. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. Had he been that obvious?

“Isn’t that good? I thought you said he was cute and funny,” the other voice continued, sounding encouraging.

There was a brief pause before you responded, your voice a bit softer. “He’s my patient, it doesn’t matter. That can’t happen.”

Spencer’s heart sank further. So that was it. The connection he felt was real, but there was an undeniable barrier between you two—one that you weren’t willing to cross.

“You’re right. Just be nice,” the other voice advised.

“I always am,” you replied, your tone resigned but still kind.

A moment later, the door to the room opened, and you reentered with the measuring tool in hand. Your expression was as warm and professional as ever, but Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment that had settled in his chest. He forced a smile, trying to act as if he hadn’t overheard anything, though the knowledge weighed heavily on him.

The rest of the session continued, but the lightheartedness from earlier was replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere. Spencer kept up the conversation as best he could, but there was a lingering sadness beneath his words. It wasn’t just about his injury anymore—it was about the realization that, no matter how much he might want it, there were some lines that simply couldn’t be crossed.

—

“Hey, Penelope?” Spencer’s voice carried a hint of hesitance as he approached her workstation, trying to muster up the courage for what he was about to ask.

Penelope swiveled her chair around, her bright eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of him. “Yes, my love?” she replied, her usual affectionate tone bringing a small smile to Spencer’s face.

“Do you still have a friend you could set me up with?” Spencer asked, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. He wasn’t sure what had pushed him to ask, but after the recent disappointment, he figured it might be worth a shot.

Penelope’s reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward, her hands clasped together in excitement. “Are you serious? You’re being for real? You’re not just messing with me?”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head at her enthusiasm. “I’m being very serious.”

A squeal of delight escaped Penelope as she practically bounced in her seat. “Yes! I have the perfect friend for you! Oh em gee!!!” she exclaimed, her excitement palpable.

Spencer chuckled, feeling some of his earlier doubts melt away in the face of Penelope’s infectious energy. Maybe this wasn’t what he had originally hoped for, but seeing her so happy about helping him made him feel like he was making the right choice. 

“Tell me everything!” Penelope demanded, her fingers already flying across her keyboard as she began to plan out every detail. “What are you looking for? What should I tell her about you? Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

Spencer smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. It wasn’t the path he had initially imagined, but maybe this new direction would lead to something just as fulfilling. “I trust your judgment, Penelope,” he said with a grin. “Just… make sure she’s okay with a guy who’s a little bit of a nerd, and on crutches.”

Penelope beamed, her heart bursting with joy at the prospect of playing matchmaker for her dear friend. “Spencer Reid, you’re in the best hands. She’s going to love you.”

—

The night of Spencer's blind date had arrived, and his nerves were running rampant. Despite trusting Penelope’s judgment, he couldn't shake the anxiety gnawing at him. She had insisted that he fully embrace the blind date experience, right down to not even knowing the woman’s name. All she had told him was that he should look for a woman in a red dress.

Sitting at the table in the cozy, dimly lit restaurant, Spencer tried to steady his breathing, his fingers drumming nervously against the tablecloth. The uncertainty was overwhelming, and he found himself glancing at the door every few seconds, half-expecting to make a quick exit if things went south.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, and with every passing moment, his heart beat faster. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of deep red fabric. He turned, his breath hitching as he saw the back of a woman at the host's stand, her figure silhouetted perfectly in the elegant red dress. Even from behind, she looked stunning, and for a brief moment, Spencer felt a flicker of excitement, his nerves momentarily forgotten.

But as she turned to scan the room, her eyes searching for him, Spencer’s heart nearly stopped. It was you.

All the blood seemed to drain from his face as he sat there, frozen in place. His mind raced, trying to process what was happening. Of all the people in the world, Penelope had set him up with you—his physical therapist, the woman he had been crushing on for weeks.

You spotted him almost instantly, your eyes widening in surprise, and for a moment, you looked just as shocked as he felt. But then your expression softened, and a small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Spencer swallowed hard, his anxiety now mixing with a sense of disbelief. He hadn’t expected this at all. What were the chances? He could barely keep his thoughts straight as you walked toward him, your movements graceful and confident, though there was a hint of nervousness in your eyes that mirrored his own.

“Spencer?” you said softly as you reached the table, your voice laced with surprise and something else—something warm, perhaps even hopeful.

He managed to nod, still struggling to find his voice. “Y-Yes… it’s me,” he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. “I didn’t… I had no idea…”

You chuckled softly, the sound doing wonders to ease the tension between you. “Neither did I,” you admitted, settling into the seat across from him. There was a playful glint in your eye as you added, “I guess you work in the BAU at the FBI, huh?”

Spencer nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “I do. How do you know Penelope?”

“We do wine and painting together every month,” you explained with a fond smile, recalling the origins of your friendship. “After a few classes, we started sitting together, and the rest is history.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe you’re my blind date.”

“And you’re mine,” you replied, matching his smile with one of your own.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before asking, “Is that okay? I know I’m your patient…”

You tilted your head slightly, considering his words before replying with a hint of teasing in your voice. “Well, technically, I’m not supposed to see my patients outside of PT… but I’ll make an exception for tonight.”

“Right, tonight,” Spencer echoed, relief and excitement coursing through him. He could hardly believe how the evening had unfolded, but there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

The two of you shared a moment of quiet understanding, the reality of the situation settling in. Despite the unexpected turn of events, the chemistry between you was undeniable, and the restrictions that had once seemed so daunting now felt less significant in the warm glow of the restaurant's soft lighting.

As the evening progressed and the initial surprise wore off, the conversation between you and Spencer flowed effortlessly. There was a natural rhythm to your interactions, a playfulness that neither of you could resist indulging in.

“So, Spencer,” you began, taking a sip of your wine and meeting his gaze over the candlelit table, “what’s it like being a genius? Do you just know everything, or do you still get surprised sometimes?”

Spencer chuckled, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I wouldn’t say I know everything,” he replied, his tone modest but with a teasing glint in his eye. “I get surprised plenty—like tonight, for example.”

“Oh?” you tilted your head, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Surprised in a good way, I hope?”

“Very good,” Spencer admitted, his eyes flickering to yours, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “I mean, how often does someone get set up on a blind date with someone they already know—and like?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, the pink tint spreading across his cheeks as he looked at you with wide eyes. "Oh, you like me, do you?" you teased, your voice light and playful, but with a hint of something more beneath the surface.

"Was that not obvious?" Spencer stammered, his blush deepening further, and you couldn’t help but smile at how endearing he was.

"It was plenty obvious, Doctor. Don’t worry," you reassured him, leaning in just slightly to close the distance between you.

Spencer let out a small, relieved laugh. "Oh goodie! I was worried I wasn’t making a fool out of myself."

"You weren’t," you said softly, your smile growing as you watched him. There was something so genuine about Spencer, something that made it easy to be honest with him. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Absolutely," Spencer replied, a playful glint in his eye as he leaned in closer, mimicking your earlier movement. "I might tell everyone I know, but you can still tell me."

You giggled at his response, the sound light and full of warmth. "Amazing," you said, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I don’t have to touch you as much as I do during our sessions... I just really like how your legs look in those shorts."

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he seemed completely caught off guard. His mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out. Finally, he managed to stammer, "You… you what?"

"I like how your legs look," you repeated, your tone playful yet sincere. "And those shorts you wear? They make it hard to keep things strictly professional."

Spencer’s blush, which had just started to fade, flared up again in full force. He let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I had no idea… I mean, I didn’t think—"

"You’re cute when you’re flustered," you interrupted gently, reaching out to place a hand over his. The gesture was simple, but it sent a jolt of warmth through both of you. "And just so you know, you’re definitely not making a fool out of yourself. In fact, I’m really glad Penelope set this up."

Spencer looked down at your hand on his, then back up at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and affection. "Me too," he said softly, his voice carrying a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. "More than you know."

—

As the waiter poured the wine, the atmosphere between you and Spencer lightened even more, the earlier nerves melting away with each sip. You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched Spencer take a tentative sip from his glass, his expression one of cautious appreciation.

"How’s the wine, Doctor?" you teased, raising your glass to him with a playful grin.

Spencer chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass like he was trying to remember some long-forgotten etiquette. "I think it’s good," he said, though his tone was more curious than certain. "I’m not exactly a connoisseur, but I think I could get used to this."

"Oh, I bet you could," you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And who knows, maybe by the end of the night, you’ll be an expert."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. "Are you planning on getting me drunk?"

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as you replied, "Maybe just tipsy enough to loosen you up, Doctor. You’re pretty cute when you’re not overthinking everything."

He laughed, a sound that was becoming more frequent as the evening went on. "Is that so? Well, in that case, maybe I should order another bottle."

"Oh, I see how it is," you giggled, raising your glass to take another sip. "Trying to get me drunk so I’ll spill all my secrets?"

Spencer leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. "I don’t need wine for that. You already admitted you like how my legs look in those shorts."

You laughed, the sound bubbly and warm, and you playfully nudged him with your foot under the table. "Guilty as charged. But don’t get too cocky, Doctor Reid. I’ve got plenty more secrets I haven’t shared yet."

Spencer’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, and he leaned back in his chair, giving you an appreciative once-over. "Now that’s something I’d like to hear more about," he said, his tone flirtatious but with a genuine interest that made your heart flutter.

You smirked, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, you’ll have to earn those secrets, Spencer. I don’t just give them away."

"Challenge accepted," Spencer replied, his grin widening as he clinked his glass against yours. "But I warn you, I’m pretty good at uncovering secrets."

"Is that so?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe I’ll have to keep you on your toes, then."

"I think I’d like that," Spencer said, his voice softening as he held your gaze, the playful banter giving way to something a bit more serious, but no less exciting.

The wine continued to flow, and with it, the conversation grew flirtier, the two of you slipping into a comfortable rhythm that was as intoxicating as the wine itself. The night felt like a blur of laughter, teasing words, and shared glances, each one charged with a growing connection that neither of you could deny.

As the glasses emptied and the night wore on, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something new—something wonderful. And by the way you were looking at him, your smile bright and your eyes full of promise, he had a feeling you were thinking the same thing.

—

You held the door open for Spencer as you both exited the restaurant, then hailed a cab with practiced ease. Spencer couldn’t help but notice the way you held the door open for him once more, a small gesture that felt both kind and distant at the same time.

“One stop or two?” the cab driver asked, his voice breaking through the quiet night air.

“Two,” you responded, offering Spencer an apologetic smile that made his heart sink just a little.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, Spencer started to get the sense that this night—this connection—was slipping away, becoming nothing more than a fleeting exchange.

“This isn’t going to continue, is it?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with the disappointment he was trying to keep at bay.

You sighed softly, placing your hand gently on his, your expression filled with genuine regret. “Spencer,” you began, your voice tender but firm, “I’m your physical therapist. You’re my patient.”

“But we like each other,” Spencer pressed, his heart pounding with the desperate hope that maybe, somehow, you could make this work.

“So much,” you agreed, your eyes softening as you met his gaze. “But I can’t cross that boundary.”

“We already did,” he argued, his tone filled with frustration and a touch of disbelief. “We’re more than just patient and therapist.”

You nodded, your expression pained. “We’re friends, and we had a meal together,” you said gently. “But I’m sorry, Spencer. I can’t let it go beyond that.”

As the cab pulled up outside Spencer’s building, he gave you a look that was filled with hurt, disappointment, and a sense of finality. “Maybe Penelope isn’t as good of a matchmaker as I thought,” he muttered, his voice heavy with emotion. Then, without waiting for a response, he slammed the door to the cab shut, the sound echoing in the night as he moved away.

You watched him go, a heavy weight settling in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t care for him—far from it. But the lines had been drawn, and you knew you couldn’t cross them, no matter how much you wished you could. As the cab pulled away, you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been, even as you tried to convince yourself that you had done the right thing.

—

“Spencer, baby!” Penelope’s voice rang out the moment he stepped into the office the next morning. She rushed over to him, her eyes wide with excitement and anticipation. “How was your date? Did you love her? I know you did!”

Spencer’s expression was flat, his usual warmth replaced by a cool detachment. “I did not,” he replied, his tone clipped and final.

Penelope’s face fell instantly, the excitement draining from her features as she looked at him in shock. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “But… what happened? I thought it was going to be perfect.”

Spencer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. “It wasn’t what I expected, Penelope. I… we had a nice time, but she made it clear that it couldn’t go anywhere.”

“But… but why?” Penelope stammered, clearly upset. “I thought she was perfect for you! I mean, I was so sure…”

“She was,” Spencer admitted, his voice softening. “She’s great, really. But she’s my physical therapist, and she didn’t want to cross that boundary.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped, guilt and sadness flooding her eyes. “Oh, Spencer… I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I just thought… I just wanted you to be happy.”

Spencer gave her a small, sad smile, trying to ease the tension. “I know, Penelope. And I appreciate it. You were trying to help, and I’m grateful for that.”

Penelope nodded, tears welling up in her eyes as she reached out to hug him. “I’m really sorry, Spencer. I never wanted to make things harder for you.”

Spencer hugged her back, his voice gentle as he reassured her. “It’s okay. You didn’t know, and it’s not your fault. I’m glad you care enough to try.”

Penelope pulled back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just… I just want you to find someone who makes you happy.”

“I know,” Spencer said, giving her another small smile. “And I will. Just… not this time.”

Penelope nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of unintended consequences. She wanted so badly to make things right for him, but now she could only hope that time would help heal the disappointment she had inadvertently caused.

—

“Y/N, you have a new patient today,” your supervisor informed you as you glanced up from the paperwork on your desk.

“What about Spencer Reid?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual, though the question carried more weight than you intended.

“He’s seeing a different therapist,” your supervisor replied, flipping through the schedule without much thought.

“Oh…” The single syllable lingered in the air, heavy with disappointment. You hesitated for a moment before asking, “Can I ask why?”

Your supervisor looked up, her expression indifferent as she explained, “Something about your schedule not fitting his anymore.”

You nodded slowly, trying to process the news. “Okay, that’s—” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat, “that’s fine.”

But as you turned back to your paperwork, the reality of the situation sank in. It wasn’t just about schedules or convenience; this was the consequence of the boundary you had enforced, the one that was meant to protect both of you. Yet, knowing that Spencer was now in someone else’s care left a hollow ache in your chest that you hadn’t anticipated.

The rest of the day felt a little off-kilter, your thoughts drifting back to Spencer more often than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t help but wonder how he was doing, whether he was okay, and if he understood why things had to be this way. It was the right decision, you reminded yourself, even if it didn’t feel like it.

—

“Penny, he dropped me,” you said, your voice heavy with disappointment as you leaned against the doorframe of Penelope’s kitchen. “He’s not even my patient anymore.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise, but then a grin spread across her face. “That’s great! You can date now!”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not that simple, Penny. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Penelope’s expression softened, and she gave you a sympathetic look. “He’ll come around. He just feels rejected, that’s all. You could go explain yourself, you know.”

“I don’t even have his number,” you admitted, feeling a pang of helplessness. It wasn’t like you could just show up at his door and expect him to listen. The lines between patient and therapist had already been blurred, and now they were more complicated than ever.

“Uhh, don’t be silly, missy. I do,” Penelope said with a playful smirk, pulling out her phone and waving it in the air like it was the answer to all your problems.

You blinked, surprised by her quick solution. “You’d really give it to me?”

“Of course!” Penelope replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of determination. “Spencer’s my friend, and so are you. If there’s a chance you two can work this out, I’m all for it.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks, but the thought of not reaching out to Spencer gnawed at you. Maybe Penelope was right; maybe you needed to explain yourself, to let him know how you really felt.

“Okay,” you said finally, your resolve strengthening. “Give me his number.”

Penelope’s grin widened as she quickly typed on her phone and handed it over to you. “Go get him, girl.”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of nerves and hope as you took the phone from her. “Thanks, Penny. I’ll try.”

—

Later that night, as you sat in the comfort of your apartment, the familiar hum of city life just outside your window, you finally mustered up the courage to dial the number Penelope had given you. Your heart pounded in your chest, each ring feeling like an eternity until you heard his voice on the other end.

“Spencer Reid, who is calling?”

“Hey… it’s Y/N. Your ex-therapist,” you said, your voice softer than you intended, trying to gauge his reaction.

There was a brief pause before he responded, “Oh.”

The single word carried a weight that made your stomach churn with anxiety. You took a deep breath, pushing forward despite the tension. “Yeah, I hope it’s okay I got your number from Penny.”

“Why?” Spencer’s voice was guarded, and you could tell he was still hurting.

“I wanted to talk to you. Can we meet up?” you asked, trying to keep your tone hopeful, though the uncertainty gnawed at you.

“When?” he asked, his voice giving nothing away.

“Tomorrow? You could come over?” you suggested, hoping the familiar, private setting might make things a bit easier.

“Fine. Send me your address,” Spencer replied, his tone clipped but not completely closed off.

“Okay, see you—” you started to say, but the line went dead before you could finish. You stared at your phone, a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation swirling in your chest.

He was coming over. You had a chance to explain, to make things right. But now that the call was over, the reality of what tomorrow might bring settled in. You just hoped that when the time came, you’d find the right words to say.

—

Spencer knocked with perfect punctuality, 6 pm sharp, just as you were adjusting the final details in your apartment. The soft sound of the knock sent a flutter through your chest, a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

You opened the door to find him standing there, his expression unreadable, but his eyes softened as he took you in. “Hi,” you breathed, a bit of your earlier confidence wavering under his gaze.

“Hi, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and calm, though you could tell he was just as unsure as you were. Your beauty, as always, took him by surprise, rendering him momentarily speechless.

“Please, come in,” you said, stepping aside to let him enter.

Spencer stepped into your apartment, his eyes immediately scanning the space. The warm, inviting atmosphere of your home greeted him, filled with soft light from the setting sun filtering through the windows. The room was decorated with personal touches—lush green plants, carefully selected books lining the wooden shelves, and artwork that gave the space a cozy, lived-in feel. It was a reflection of you, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for how things had turned out.

“Can I pour you some wine? I found the one from the restaurant,” you offered, trying to break the tension and bring back a little of the familiarity you both shared that night.

“Sure, thank you,” Spencer replied, his tone polite but still holding a touch of reserve.

You moved to the kitchen area, retrieving the bottle of wine and two glasses. As you poured, you could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look up just yet. There was so much unsaid between you, so much that needed to be addressed, and you weren’t sure where to start.

Handing him a glass, you finally met his gaze. “I’m really glad you came,” you said softly, your sincerity clear.

Spencer took the glass from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. “I wasn’t sure if I should,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“I know,” you replied, taking a small sip of your wine to steady yourself. “But I’m glad you did. We need to talk, Spencer. I need to explain.”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening just a bit. “Yeah… we do.”

You gestured toward the comfortable seating area, and the two of you moved to sit down, the warmth of the room offering a bit of comfort as you prepared to finally have the conversation that had been hanging over you both.

Spencer settled onto the couch, his posture stiff as he tried to maintain a semblance of calm. The warmth of your apartment contrasted with the tension between you, and he took a slow sip of his wine, waiting for you to speak.

You sat across from him, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched for the right words. After a moment of silence, you decided to just be honest. “I’m sorry I rejected you,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “That was wrong of me.”

Spencer’s gaze flickered with surprise, but he remained silent, letting you continue.

“There are things we could have done,” you went on, feeling a weight lift slightly as you spoke. “Ways we could have moved around the rules, ways to handle it more delicately. But instead, I stiffed you and hurt you. I didn’t give us a chance to figure it out. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”

Spencer’s grip tightened slightly around his glass, his expression a mixture of emotions—confusion, hurt, and perhaps a bit of understanding. “It wasn’t just about the rules, was it?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours.

You shook your head, feeling a lump form in your throat. “No, it wasn’t. I was scared, Spencer. Scared of crossing a line, of losing my job, of making a mistake that couldn’t be undone. But in trying to protect myself, I ended up hurting you… and that’s something I never wanted to do.”

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I understand why you were scared,” he admitted, his voice softening. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I know,” you whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “And I can’t take back what I did. But I want you to know that I care about you, Spencer. I really do. And if there’s any way we can move forward—whether that’s as friends or something more—I’m willing to try.”

Spencer looked down at his glass, his mind clearly racing as he processed your words. After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked back up at you, his expression gentler than before.

“I care about you too,” he said quietly. “And I want to move forward. But I need to know that we’re both on the same page, that this isn’t just something we’re doing because of… circumstances.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he was willing to talk about it. “I agree. I don’t want to force anything. But I also don’t want to walk away from something that could be real, just because it’s complicated.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, tentative smile. “I guess we’re both pretty good at making things complicated, huh?”

You chuckled softly, the tension between you easing just a bit. “Yeah, we are. But maybe… maybe we can figure it out together?”

Spencer took another sip of his wine, his smile growing a little more confident. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice warm and genuine.

And with those simple words, the gap that had formed between you began to close, replaced by the possibility of something new—a fresh start, built on honesty, understanding, and the connection you both knew was there all along.

Spencer’s tentative smile grew into something more playful as he leaned back slightly, the tension between you all but dissolved. “Does that mean free, private physical therapy sessions?” he teased, his tone light, though there was a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound easing the last remnants of anxiety you had been holding onto. Leaning forward, you matched his playful tone, raising an eyebrow as you replied, “Only if you don’t wear any shorts.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then he laughed—a deep, genuine sound that filled the room with warmth. “I’ll have to consider that,” he quipped, the playful banter between you rekindling that familiar connection.

“Well, take your time,” you said with a grin, feeling the ease and comfort return between you. “But just so you know, I’m a lot stricter when it comes to private sessions.”

“Is that so?” Spencer leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. “Maybe I’m up for the challenge.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the flirtation now fully out in the open. “Well, Doctor Reid, I’ll be sure to make it worth your while,” you replied, your tone equally soft and playful.

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, the air between you charged with excitement and anticipation. The conversation had started with apologies and uncertainty, but now, sitting here together, it felt like the beginning of something new—something you were both more than ready to explore.

“Looks like we’ve got a lot to figure out,” Spencer said softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yeah,” you agreed, a warm smile spreading across your face. “But I think we’re off to a pretty good start.”

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

[dolicekiss]

Hi,

I heard you were taking requests again, so I hope you don‘t mind me dropping one here.

Could you please write a story/one-shot, which takes place in the Hannibal universe, where Hannibal falls for one of his patients, who was a victim of a murderer, but managed to escape unscathed. When the murderer resurfaces again, she needs to stay with him and slowly he makes her depend on him. After hearing the news of his latest kill, Hannibal twists/abuses the situation to make her seek comfort from him.(with nsfw?)

Fragile Minds

PAIRING: Dark!Hannibal Lecter X Fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING: SMUT (18+, mdni please), coercion, adult grooming, taking advantage of reader, manipulation, trauma, mention of kidnapping, mention of nightmares, PTSD, gaslighting, age gap (unspecified but legal), unprotected sex, fingering, kissing, choking, bruising, slight fluff, infatuated hannibal who'll do anything to have reader.

Therapy was merely an escape.

For you, it was.

An escape from the people who gave you pitiful looks, sympathizing with you. Feeling bad for a girl like you who suffered from so much at such a young age.

You resented it. Everytime when you'd attend dinners at your relatives’ houses or when your friends would gaze at you with a sad pathetic look, treating you like some fragile little girl who needed extra care. It was all overbearing for you.

Hannibal Lecter’s office was the perfect escape.

He did not see you as some broken little doll, no. Rather he validated you, understood you, listened to you and made you feel comfortable in his presence. The only person who did not look at you with a pitiful, sad gaze.

You saw him as a kind and polite man who attended to your needs, your mental needs and took care of you in a way no one else had ever before.

You'd attended your session again, with a smile on your face. When the door to his office you opened, your smile widened and Hannibal returned it. You simply loved how he had created a safe space for you, how he did care for your well-being. You were his patient so it was his job but at least he was better than all the other people who only saw you as some broken shell.

“Hello.” Hannibal greeted and you nodded your smile, stepping inside. “Good evening, Doctor Lecter.”

His smile lines deepened. “Good evening. How are you feeling today?”

You slid off your leather coat, hanging it over the hook. Hannibal lead you to your seat and you happily followed, a constant routine which you'd gotten used to. Hannibal sat before you, on his own brown leather couch.

“I feel alright." You coyly said, hands toying with each other. Not a sign of discomfort but rather nervousness. Hannibal had made sure that you were comfortable around him.

Hannibal was not a man that was easily swooned away yet he was completely in awe whenever you played with your hands, twisting one finger over the other. That habit of yours was adorable to him, sort of akin to him.

Hannibal tilted his head.

You licked your lips. “I feel alright but I have nightmares about what happened.”

You had sort of disconnected from your trauma as that was the only way you could possibly cope. Hannibal noticed it but he didn't say much, when he should have. It was only to bring you closer to him, to make you depend on him.

“What do the nightmares consist of?”

“Him dragging me through a dark alley and showing me where he'll bury me.” You said all that so nonchalantly, Hannibal knew you hadn't broken up about it yet.

Ever since the incident, you shut everyone out. Felt like discussing about what happened and how it made you feel was not necessary at all and when the FBI advised you to speak to their psychiatrist, in order to help you regain the suppressed memories of the assault you'd encountered, it worked.

Hannibal smiled. “Does it scare you? You have trouble sleeping?”

You blinked, shaking your head. “No, I wake up numb. I was told it is unhealthy to not feel anything regarding this matter.”

“Are you bothered that he has not been apprehended yet?” You nodded your head in response.

You'd nearly died that rainy night. Your perpetrator had fully planned to murder you that night as you were the perfect victim in his followed pattern but somehow you managed to survive. Got away when he was busy digging up your grave.

The feeling that overcame you when you witnessed your own grave, where you'll be buried after your life has been snatched away from you — it was too foreign. A different type of overwhelming fear which consumed you to the point your brain had entirely shut it out.

As traumatized as you were, Hannibal was aware you had not fully coped up with this painful incident. You walked around and pretended like you were fine but he knew he needed to break you, in order to put you back together.

This time, to his own likeness.

“He has not killed anyone after I got away from him. I think he is going to come back for me.” You spoke, tone impassive whenever you spoke about your trauma. “The thought always lingers in the back of my mind, Doctor Lecter.”

The aforementioned tossed one leg over the other and nodded his head, acknowledging your restlessness. “You survived him with your strong will to live. If he is to resurface again, I'm sure you will be able to defend yourself against him.”

Hannibal was right and you knew it. You'd escaped him with the desperate urge to live and that desperation saved your life.

But then Hannibal spoke up again with certain darkness in his voice. “You'll always have me, love. I will be there for you as I always have been.”

You smiled softly.

He was right. He was there — from the beginning to the end. He had coaxed you out of your shell, helped you express your feelings, much more. Hannibal had helped you beyond anything and you felt like you'd forever be in his debt.

Hannibal’s proclivity for protecting you and caring for you stemmed from the romantic feelings he began to develop for you over the course of the past few weeks. The moment he laid his gaze upon you, he knew you were the one.

You'd climbed over the walls around him without even intending to do so. Your little laughs, your interest in seeing the art he'd created with only a pencil, even reaching you calligraphy.

Hannibal was deeply in love and that was not a good sign.

“I appreciate you, Doctor Lecter.” You smiled, teeth showing. The session soon came to an end and you left for your apartment. Hannibal didn't like seeing you go but he had to let you go. There was so much he could do to bring you closer to him and he noticed how you were already beginning to become dependent on him.

He liked that. The taste of freedom was on your tongue but your strings were controlled by Hannibal.

As soon as you reached your apartment, you could only look forward to another session with him. You were entirely blind to how much you had grown attached to Hannibal, how much he affected you and everything in your life.

You only saw the camaraderie he offered you in a time of struggle, pain and utter loneliness.

But little did you know that was the whole plan. Hannibal had been offered a chance at friendship before too but he rejected it, all and everytime though with you, the case was different. He was a lonely man, painfully lonely and he craved company.

Your company.

So when he saw you, he made it his mission to make you depend on him. Grow used to him, attached and fully bonded like you were his mate.

You turned on the TV, hoping you'd be able to relax but your phone dinged. You reached for it, picking it up and unlocking. Eyebrows scrunching up when you saw the link you'd received from an anonymous number.

You contemplated whether to check it or not and your curiosity finally got the best of you when you tapped on it. It took you to an article — by Freddie Lounds.

Your blood ran cold when you read the contents of it. Fingers losing their strength and your phone slipping out of their grasp, hitting the couch. You blinked profusely, hoping that this was a lie but you were all aware that no matter how problematic Freddie Lounds was, she delivered real events and not some made up ones.

The article included of your killer — finally risen again, taking another victim. Your breathing grew uneven, all the memories your brain had locked out now freeing themselves.

Shattered breathing and a thumping heart reminded you of your suppressed fears when the anesthesia of your mind had wore off.

Body beginning to oscillate on the couch, your teeth ripped the skin off your lips, causing them to bleed. Panic had filled you up.

You were next. You knew it.

In this vulnerable moment, you knew only one person that was capable of calming you down and that was Hannibal Lecter. You didn't think for a moment, grabbing your car keys and heading for the door.

Seeing the weather only increased the fear and uneasiness which you attempted to repel inside you. Grey clouds loomed above your head when you made it outside your apartment building and the rain only felt like droplets of acid pouring over your skin.

Tears losing their identity within the cries of mother nature, engulfing your whole being.

How sad, how pitful that what worked to calm down others was burning you.

You tried to scream but nothing came out.

All your suppressed emotions had swam up to the surface and there was no escape.

You don't remember how you managed to drive through the heavy rain, soaked with a blurred vision. It was a blessing — rather a curse from God to have protected you from an inevitable car crash.

All you remember was ending up outside Hannibal’s house — fist banging over the wood. When the door was pulled open, Hannibal found you soaked and withered like a flower in front of him. Drenched hair sticking to the ridges of your face, dress clinging to your frame, shoulders showing off a perpetual tremor, cheeks flushed and through all that Hannibal managed to pick up on the tears that slid.

He was quick to pull you inside, without a word exchanged between the two of you. His palm opened, laying on your back. You had no idea why you were here but being in Hannibal’s presence sufficiently managed to make you feel a tad bit better.

You looked up at him, mumbling incoherent words and the man didn't hesitate for a moment to bring you in a hug. His own button up and vest becoming wet in the process.

All that mattered to him was comforting you.

You buried your face in his chest, sobbing and finally breaking apart. The way he exactly needed you to. His heart ached feeling your little body shiver in his hold but this was necessary.

He had to do this. Had to trigger you somehow so he could find you in a vulnerable headspace and coerce full codependency out of you.

The killer only helped fasten the process and Hannibal knew Freddie Lounds was an unethical journalist who only cared for content. Working in the FBI wasn't that bad when Hannibal had access to the murder files and photographs. All he had to do was anonymously send to Lounds and then send the article to you.

A smile decorated his features when you crumbled in his embrace.

“He-He'll come—come back for me. He—”

You were a mess. A mix of overwhelming emotions and beautiful flesh. Hannibal shushed you, caressing your head with his palm as you unleashed weeks worth of suppressed trauma and anguish.

“I'm here.” He said softly, tightening his hold over you in a protective manner. “You have me, only me. You don't need anyone else.”

You nodded in agreement, both palms pressed over his broad chest. Your body had grown cold and Hannibal was beginning to worry.

He pulled apart from you, or attempted to but you clung to him like a koala. Fists bunching up the material of his button up, body aching to feel his warmth. Becoming greedy but Hannibal was going to give you all the warmth you so desperately craved.

“You will fall sick, love. Let me bring you some clothes.”

Your hands loosened their grip over his shirt and he peeled from me. Biceps soaked from how tightly they were draped around you, skin underneath them revealed. After sitting you down on the couch, Hannibal went to find you some clothes.

He could not put the paramount happiness he felt into words. Everything, from beginning to end had worked in his favor. He was in control and he enjoyed it more than anything. All he had to do was use your trauma against you, push you into a state of vulnerability where you only needed him.

He brought you his own clothes, a shirt that would be too big on you. Hannibal craved to see how you'd look, he was fucking excited.

You were still shivering, chest leaping up from little hiccups. Hannibal walked over to you with the shirt and a glass of water he'd fetched from the kitchen on his way to the living room.

“Here, drink this. You'll feel better.” You reached for the glass with shaky fingers and Hannibal noticed them. In one single go, you finished the glass. He took it from you and placed it on the nearest table before handing you over his shirt.

“Please change into this. You'll fall sick and we don't want that happening, do we?”

You had no energy to change. It required all your will power to drive here and now you were too far gone to even function like a proper human. Hands numb and frozen.

You raised your gaze at him, glossy and red eyes becoming the cause of his heavy beating heart.

Hannibal swallowed.

He did not know you would grow this beautiful, this breathtaking after breaking apart. In your destruction, you were the most beautiful. Blooming like a new flower. Like a piece of art, you filled his heart with bliss.

“I can provide help.” He tested the waters and all you did was turn around on the couch, moving to the side to reveal the zipper of your dress to him.

Hannibal sat next to you, brawny hands reaching for the zipper. You closed your eyes as tears fell, a few sobs escaping. Hannibal’s fingers slowly dragged the zipper down and you leaned more into his touch when his fingers accidentally brushed over your wet skin. You swallowed — body growing used to the man's minor touch.

He exposed your back when the zipper met the end, glistening bare skin greeting him. He could tell from the way you shifted in your seat or how the goosebumps poked through your skin that you were relishing in this.

Hannibal’s knuckles caressed your skin, your breath hitched.

Hannibal carefully and tenderly pushed the sticky dress off your shoulders, exposing your beautiful shoulders. Bare and raw to his lascivious gaze. He was so obsessed, so infatuated. Fingers dancing across where your shoulder blades sat, tongue swiping over his own lips.

He was a starving madman.

Only the sound of fire crackling over the wood in the fireplace could be heard in the room, along with your bated breathing and sharp intakes of air. Hannibal’s adam apple bobbed up and down as he fully pulled the dress down.

The heavy soaked material of cotton bunched up at your waist. Your bare chest rose up and fell down in uneven breaths, nipples hardening because of the chilly air.

You were ready to stand up to discard the dress but Hannibal’s hands circled around your arms, pulling you back against his chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as he breathed over your nape.

His warm breath leaving chills in its wake and you shuddered in his grasp. The self control Hannibal possessed was worthy of immense respect and appreciation because only he knew how badly he wanted to let go and claim you.

But he had to wait.

He waited for so long, what's more a few hours or days.

He found himself growing obsessed with your mere scent. How sweet you smelled, how hypnotic it was. Worked like magic over him.

“Arms.” Hannibal sounded commanding and you raised your arms, slipping them into the large sleeves of the emerald shirt. Hannibal didn't bother to unbutton it as it was oversized and you slipped right into it.

He soon pulled the dress down to your legs and discarded it somewhere.

He brushed your hair with his beautifully sculpted fingers, mind overthrown by the images of your bare back and gorgeous shoulders.

You slowly turned to face him, face flushed and tears coating the apple of your cheeks.

“Thank you.“ You whispered, stifling the urge to sob. You were still all over the place, hoping that all of this was a dream and you'd wake up soon between your thick blanket.

Hannibal nodded. “I told you, I will always be here. You're safe with me, love. I can protect you from this man, keep you safe but you need to stay close to me in order for me to protect you.”

You thought about it and he was right.

If you'd gone to someone else after reading that article, they would have never opened their door to you. Never would have allowed you in but Hannibal, like your guardian angel, was right there.

Your gaze fell to capture his lips for a moment before flickering back up to his sparkling eyes.

“It is your decision, at the end.” Of course it was.

But your words were driven by Hannibal’s manipulation and gaslighting. Using his wit and psychology to push you over the cliff, only to be waiting down there to catch you.

Your words were yours but your lips were controlled by Hannibal.

You shuffled closer to him, knees coming in contact with his. With hesitation, you threw your arms around him and veiled your face with his nape. Hannibal circled his arms around your frail waist, a smug smile crossing his lips.

A smug smile of victory.

When you broke the hug, Hannibal cupped your face and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. You didn't complain, knowing that this was unethical but you didn't care. You craved this, a doomed touch starved creature you were.

Hannibal’s blonde strands fell over his face and you reached for them, caressing them between your fingers. He took in a deep breath, fingers nearly digging into your waist from the sheen of desire on his mind.

“You're like spring, my love. Bloom like the flowers.” Hannibal whispered, finally leaning in to press his lips over yours. You allowed him to, your own hands slithering over his nape, fingers tangling in his roots.

Hannibal pressed his body against yours in desperate attempts to feel you as he pushed him down on the couch. His lips devoured you, the kiss full of seeting passion. You felt his tongue coat your lips with saliva and you parted open your mouth, a lustful invitation.

His tongue mingled with yours, breath and spit becoming one. You whimpered into thw kiss as Hannibal’s hands moved up from your waist to unbutton the shirt he'd put you in. Only enough to expose your breasts to him. Hannibal loved how the silk shirt clung to your body, how it complimented your soft skin.

You arched your back when his hands fondled with your breasts, thumbs squeezing your hardened peaks between them. Hannibal had lost all his restraint. He could not stop kissing you, forbidding you the pleasures of breathing.

You tried to pull away but that was a mistake as he began to kiss you with more vigor. Locking your lips together, fucking your mouth with his wet tongue. His saliva had coated your lips as well as your chin, in tiny invisible rivulets

“H-Hannibal, wait.” You whispered and he finally tore himself away from you, breaking the kiss.

When your eyes got used to his vision, your cunt throbbed at how handsomely disheveled he appeared. Hair a mess from all the entanglement of your fingers, lips glossy with your saliva and eyes darkened. His blown out pupils were a full proof of his overbearing need for you.

His face moved to hide in your neck, lips peppering soft wet kisses over it. You winced when you felt him bite into you, a whine leaving you. Hannibal's one hand slithered down to the lace panties you wore, fingers grazing over the hem of them. You inhaled a sharp breath — feeling him slip his hand inside your underwear.

His fingers gathered your arousal before pressing over your clit, rubbing it in soft circles. Your back arched off the couch as your breathy moans grew louder. One hand toying with your cunt while the other twisted and tugged at your nipple, you were in complete bliss.

Hannibal’s fingers dropped lower and he slid one inside your cunt. Your walls clenched around him, a whine escaping you. If you'd been told you would end up with your psychiatrist’s fingers buried inside your cunt, you would probably think of it as a fever dream but here you were.

Hips writhing underneath him. Hannibal stared at you, licking his hungrily. You looked so breathtaking, panting like you'd run a marathon. Cheeks blossoming with a sweet pink hue.

Hannibal pulled out his fingers, losing his grip on patience. He could unfold the layers of your body some other day, right now he needed you and he was going to take was his.

He rid himself of his clothes, discarding the pieces by the couch. You were in awe of what he had to offer especially when your gaze lowered to between his legs. A cock rock hard — standing proudly, deliciously curved. You subconsciously licked your lips and fluttered your eyes back at him.

Hannibal parted open your legs, sliding between them. Holding his cock, he guided it into you and your hands flew to grip his bare biceps, nails piercing.

As you felt him enter you, stretching you past your limits, you flinched. It didn't hurt nor did it bring you unbearable pain but you still needed time to get used to Hannibal’s size.

Hannibal cupped your face, large hands bringing you warmth.

“My beautiful Love. You will feel better soon as all I wish to do is bring you pleasure.” You nodded your head at his sugary words, releasing your grip around his biceps and moving your arms around his neck.

You pulled him closer, an action which gave him the order to fuck you and he did. Hannibal lifted your legs, placing each on each side of his hips before fully driving himself into your soaked cunt.

A whimper emitted from your throat when you felt him fully sink into you. Your gummy walls gripping around him like the tail of a snake around its prey — feeling every protruding vein.

Hannibal started to move, back and forth but slowly to make you feel each and every thrust. A whine of need and desperation echoed in the room, silencing the crackling of the fire.

“Tell me what you need, my love. Tell me what is it that you ache for?”

Your vision blurred. “You.”

That was all Hannibal needed to drill his cock into your tight pussy. Like some animal who'd finally caught its prey and with the intention to tear it apart limb by limb consumed it. Your body jerked forward from each harsh thrust, his balls slapping against the stripe of your cunt.

“Hannibal! Hann—ohmy.” Your moans grew, so did his pace. He fucked you with strong will and determination to draw a rippling orgasm out of you.

Hannibal’s hand wrapped around your throat in a purely possessive manner. To claim that you were his. He bruised your throat but not with the purpose to hurt you, rather taint you as his. Brand you forever.

A fucking collar embedded in your blood streams.

Both your hands held onto his wrist as he bruised your skin, all the while mounting you and chasing his own orgasm. Everytime he hit that spot of yours, tears fell and collapsed against the couch. His cock head driving itself ferociously into your cervix.

Hannibal felt his stomach taut, so did you.

Your thighs shivered, hips stuttering underneath his and Hannibal caught that. How could he not? He captured every little action of yours, every response your body gave to his. He was in love and his love was not the good kind.

“I feel it, Hannibal I-I feel it.” You cried out and he nodded, panting and groaning. All the sounds he made only worked to increase your sex drive — you craved him more, despite him being inside you. Your cunt clenched around him, gripping him and Hannibal nearly whined at how fucking good you felt.

Both of you were close and with one harsh thrust, Hannibal spilled his load inside you while you released all over him. His seed had tainted your walls. He didn't stop there.

He continued to thrust inside you, slow and sensual rolling of his hips inside your cunt.

Your eyes had fallen shut, disappearing into your skull. Seeing the same white Hannibal had painted your walls with.

“You're the prettiest, my pretty girl.” Hannibal whispered against your forehead, pressing a soft kiss to it. He soon pulled out and collapsed right next to you as you shuffled to give him space.

Laying on his chest, you were the happiest. Naked bodies entangled together for eternity and you had no idea just what you'd gotten yourself into. Raising your eyes at Hannibal’s face, you already found him looking at you with a smile.

His fingers trailed along your hair as he held you rightly in his arms. You released a sigh of content. “Hannibal, I-I think I'm in love with you.”

You sounded sure that you had fallen in love with your psychiatrist and as unprofessional as it was, you hoped that he too reciprocated these unbridled emotions. You had no idea just how happy you'd made him by uttering out those words.

He kissed the top of your head. “I have always been in love with you, my girl. You have no idea how much I tried to control these feelings I harbor for you.”

You shook your head. “You don't have to control them anymore, Hannibal.”

He didn't have to, not anymore. He had you right where he wanted you and everything had fallen right into place. Pushing you towards the edge was worth it — when the result was you, in his arms, it was all worth it.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Across Every Universe

Well, this got away from me and then BAM - over 9k words. Uh, I will also be willing to pay for therapy if needed, oopsies. Anyway, please enjoy! I cried multiple times while writing this. All of my favorite things in life are rolled into this one fic.

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! love you all <3

TAG LIST IS OPEN! - 14 SPOTS LEFT (please send me a direct message to be added)

Earth 199999 

“Mr. Verstappen?” 

Max look up from the suit that he was currently working on. His eyes were blocked by his newest technological glasses that kept information in his fingertips. 

He wanted to roll his eyes. This new assistant really didn’t get the memo of Do Not Disturb. Man, did he wish Kelly were still here. Yet, there was that unspoken rule of not dating your boss, so Max was happier with her being his girlfriend rather than assistant. 

“Yes?” he muttered back, looking back down at the prototype reactor that should be 15% more powerful than the one he has now. 

“Mr. Leclerc is here to see you.” 

Max sighed as he threw the screwdriver down. “I told Charles that I was to not be disturbed.” 

The assistant shrank back but continued on, much to his annoyance. “He said it was urgent. Something about Case 89?” 

That got Max’s attention right away. He abruptly stood up, knocking down a few things on his desk as he rushed past his assistant. 

“Cancel the rest of my meetings today.” 

“But sir, you have a call with the president and a public appearance…” 

Max twirled around. “I said, cancel everything.” 

A large gulp sounded as he stared down at the incompetent helper. Maybe he could convince Kelly to come back. 

“Yes sir.”

With that, Max stalked down the hallway to the elevator. Once inside, he pressed the button for the top floor. He checked his watch, making sure the technology was there. Specifically, the watch could change into a powered glove if he needed it. And he sure hoped he wouldn’t. The elevator sounded when he finally reached the floor. 

He was barely out of the small box when three pairs of eyes were on him. 

“Took you long enough,” a Monegasque accent sounded. 

With a roll of his eyes, Max rebutted, “My assistant doesn’t get the meaning of my orders.” 

A squawk of a laugh came from the corner. 

“You think that’s funny Lando?” Max quipped as he turned to his right. 

A curly hair Brit sat on a table, feet put together like he was stretching his inner thighs. 

“Everything is funny Max when you don’t have a stick up your ass,” Lando responded as he slid off the table. 

“This is not the time for laughs and games gentlemen,” another British accent sounded. 

Charles finally spoke again. “I apologize Director Horner.” He shot a stare at Lando. “It won’t happen again.” 

While this was happening, Max had taken a step to his computer. His fingers danced over the keyboard and brought up surveillance footage from downstairs. His eyes flickered up to look at his two “companions” and, well, his boss per say. 

The Monegasque was in his “get up” as Max called it. The multiple layers of ancient looking clothes disguised his figure. His red cape floated behind him and a green jewel seemed to glow behind its eye-like holder around his neck. 

Lando was dressed a skin tight red and blue suit. A web-like pattern covered its entirety and a spider lay resting on his chest. The face piece was tossed on the couch behind the table where he previously sat. His fingers twitched and flexed with lack of motion. 

Director Horner was draped in his regular black trench coat. Black shoes, black shirt, and black pants accompanied the fashion piece. His hair was kept and gelled. The most distinct item was a black eye-patch that covered his right eye. No one knew how he got it, but the three claw marks that started at his eyebrow gave Max a few hints. There was that old encrypted file that mentioned something about a flerken.

“So what are we working with?” Max questioned as the correct surveillance footage came up. On the screen was a clear box, with what looked like a person sitting in the farthest corner. Long hair covered their face as it was tucked into their knees. 

Charles did a motion with his arms. Golden strands danced around and flickered before they disappeared. Horner sighed and rubbed his brows as Charles let out a nervous chuckle. 

Lando rolled his eyes before clicking something on his wrist. A pull up hologram flashed from his specialized watch. 

There was a picture of a young girl and a list of lettering to the left of it. 

Max crossed his arms, eyes hard and cold. Charles let out a little gasp as he quickly gazed the list. 

Horner kept quiet. 

Lando began to read off of the floating screen. “Her name is Y/n L/n. Twenty-two years old. An orphan. Lived in Brooklyn all her life.” 

Max waved his hand in frustration. “We know this. I want to know why she flagged our radars and is currently in the most powerful containment cell we own.” 

If he had a desk with papers all over in front of him, the papers would be on the floor in one clean swipe. 

Lando sucked in a breath. “She killed 12 people in a freak accident.” 

A video started to play. 

The girl was surrounded by mass destruction. Smoke and fire filled the air. Bodies littered the floor. Yet, Max’s attention was on the black tendrils coming out of her back. They were a fluid type, moving around through the air like a fish in water. The girl seemed distressed as her hands were trying to stop the things coming out of her back. 

The tendrils suddenly stopped and disappeared back from where they came from her back. The girl stopped, looked around, and looked right at the security cameras. A moment later, one large black tendril flew from her hand and cut the video. 

Lando sighed when he put the hologram down. “She was found two days later, unconscious. The tendrils came out when the police found her. They seemed like they were trying to protect her. That’s when they called in Charles and I.” 

“They were difficult to deal with, but seemed responsive to another protection spell that I was able to use to transport her,” Charles concluded. 

Director Horner questioned, “Why was Norris called as well?” 

Lando decided to answer for himself, “Well it is my jurisdiction and I’ve dealt with something like this before. Remember Eddie Brock. This symbiote seems to be of familiar decent.” 

While the three others kept talk, Max continued to watch the scared girl. At this point a tendril had appeared and was almost trying to comfort you. 

“I’m going to go talk to her.” 

That shut the three up. 

Charles looked at him with a weird gaze. “You don’t know what she can do.” 

Max pointed at the screen. 

“She’s a little girl who is probably scared to death of who we are and what we might do to her. She’s probably thinking that she’s going to die in the next few days.” 

“I’ll go with. I’ve seen this before. I lost my friend because of this thing. I won’t let it take another life,” Lando confessed. A hard look on his face. 

“Then it’s settled. Lando lets go.” Max turned to leave, Lando hot on his tail. Charles and Director Horner stayed behind and continued to look at the file. 

The elevator took Max and Lando down to the locked floor. Max clicked a few buttons on his watch and used his fingers to wrap the glove around it. The whir of the machine sounded as it warmed up. 

“I will give a signal if I think the subject will engage. I need you up in the sky.” Max stepped out of the metal box. 

Lando nodded. “On it.” 

When the two got to the door, Max swiped a card. The door opened and Lando started to climb the walls. Once at a significant height, Lando stopped and hung on with one foot and one hand. His other hand was ready to shoot a web to swing in. 

Max slowly walked over. 

In the time that Max and Lando had taken to get down there, the tendril had disappeared. But to Max’s surprise, the girl was looking right at him. Without any fear, Max opened the door, stepped over, closed it, and sat down on the opposite side of her. 

“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered, visibly shaking. 

Max was taken back. 

“Excuse me?” 

You looked him dead in the eyes. 

“When do you plan to kill me?” 

Max looked with sad eyes. What had you gone through for that to be the first question to run through your mind? He shook his head. 

“I’m not going to kill you. No one is going to kill you. We have an offer for you actually.” 

It was now time for you to look confused. 

“There was an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they could become something more.” 

You inhaled. “To see if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight battles that we could never.” 

Max smirked. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’ve heard the speech on the news.” 

“What’s your name?” 

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.” 

“Welcome to the team kid.” 

From a small window above, the sunset cast a small sliver of orange light into the room. It illuminated the small space between you and Max, almost acting as a bridge from the past to the new present. 

Earth 2113 

A grunt left Max’s lips as he threw another knife at the tree. He had been in this cove for a few hours. The stream provided him with much needed fresh water. He was able to take a mock shower, but it only reminded him of the sweet lake that he had back home. 

Home. 

It felt like a foreign concept. 

Weeks had passed since he had last been there. It was supposed to be his last year until he aged out. But really, the odds were never in his favor. 

His name was in there 68 times. 

Year before, his name had been in there even more times. Not once was his name chosen. But, this year it had been. 

How he wished to return back to his own trees, and use an ax instead of the knife he was currently twirling. 

A snap of a branch had him shoot up, knife raised ready to throw. His eyes darted around his utopia that might soon become bathed in blood. 

As he turned to his right, his eyes met big round ones. 

Your small frame was frozen in fear. The rushing sound of water had mocked you long enough. You were so thirsty. 

Max watched as you glanced at the river and then back to him. His tense shoulders relaxed once he realized what you were here for. 

He slowly brought the knife down, as to not scare you. 

“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

You did not seem convinced, but you seemed less scared. 

“Go on.” 

That seemed to do the trick as you darted over and started to fill a water bottle first. 

Smart, Max thought. 

He had seen you a couple times during training. The twelve year old from District 11. Small, witty, scared. Your eyes always seemed to be filled with tears during training. However, you seemed determined for someone who probably knew that they wouldn’t win the games. 

“Thank you,” you whispered after you had gotten your fill of the water. In your outstretched hand was an apple. “Got it from the big pile.” 

Max stared at it. His stomach said yes, but his head said no. The rational side said it probably wasn’t poisoned, but the back of his mind tried to convince him that it was. 

“I have another one. I can eat it first?” 

Max nodded at the offer and you took a bite. He waited for a few minutes, waiting for you to keel over. Except it never happened. You ate the entire apple happily. Max liked to wonder if you might have enjoyed an apple in school before all this. Maybe your hair would be put in two pigtails, done by your mother with a kiss on the forehead. 

He finally took the apple and his stomach and brain were both happy. 

This seemed to be their little thing that happened in the next few days. 

Max would wait by the river just before the sun started to set. And you would somehow show up with two shiny apples. 

He thinks at this point they might be from sponsors. He had one main sponsor, a man named Christian, who kept supplying him with different small knives and a few things here and there. The two of you would fill your water bottles and eat the apples. 

He had gotten you to giggle a couple of times, which lifted his spirits. You taught him which plants were edible, and he taught you how to properly throw a knife. He had given you one of his for safe keeping. But he really hoped that you’d use it if you the time came. Blood on your hands would kill his soul. Yet, he’d rather keep you alive then have you die. 

One night, you had fallen asleep on his chest while the two of you watched the late night slide show of who died that day. 

Apparently, there were four left including you and him. Your small puffs of air hit his face as he finally closed his eyes. He thought it was funny how you fit perfectly in his arms. His mind wandered to his girl back home in District 8. He wondered if he’d ever have a kid like you that would fit between him and her. 

The sound of a boom woke Max up. His arms curled protectively around air. When he noticed, he shot up. Taking no time, he grabbed his bag and knife that was attached to a long stick.  

“Kid?” he yelled out, voice straining. 

“Kid?” Another shout as he ran. 

“Kid?” Shouting, Max jumped over tree stumps and through brush. 

He stopped. 

“Kid?”

A whisper.

You stood with your back to him. His eyes glanced to what lie in front of you. 

A body was faced down. Max sighed in relief. That cannon was not for you. 

“Kid, don’t ever do that…again.” 

You had finally turned around at the familiar and safe voice. 

Max’s heart plummeted at the sight of tears in your eyes, red patch that was slowly growing on your t-shirt, and bloody hands. His backpack and stick dropped to the ground. 

A ring vibrated through his ears as he rushed to catch you before you fell to the ground. 

“Kid?” Max asked as you looked up at him. Your small hand reached up and touched his face, leaving a bloody trail on his cheek. 

“I did it just like you showed me Maxie. Now you can win.” 

Max smiled, with tears streaming down his face. The some that fell on you were wiped with his trembling fingers. 

“Of course you did.” 

Your big eyes stared up at him. “Are you proud of me?” 

Such a big question for such a small girl. 

“Always,” he whispered back. 

“Can you tell me that story? About the big lion and little lion? One more time?” 

He let out a wobbly breath. 

“Once upon a time, there was a big lion that lived in a forest. He had about 19 other lions, but he was really a loner. The other lions weren’t good friends with the big lion. He felt like he was miles away and no one could touch him.” 

He noticed your eyes start to slowly glaze over and he tried to keep going. 

“The lion was very lonely and sad, but one day, the world decided to give him a friend: a little lion.” 

The cannon boom stopped his story in its tracks. His arms curled around you as he wailed. He wailed and wailed, not caring who could see him. 

After a few moments, he gulped down his cries. 

“And the lion was finally happy with the cub. He didn’t need any other friends. As long as he had the little one, he’d be ok. And the big lion and little lion left toward the sunset and were friends forever.” 

He leaned down to give your little head a farewell kiss. 

A few hours later, Max was declared the victor of the 89th Annual Hunger Games. As the helicopter that carried him flew toward the sunset, Max let tears drip down his face freely. He knew his little lion was finally safe. 

Always walking toward the sunset, waiting for the big lion to join. 

Earth 2230

“Ah Master Charles, glad you could make it,” Lando said snarkily as he sat in his seat. 

“Sorry, my padawan had many questions and kept me in the library for too long,” the man confessed as he took his seat next to Lando’s. 

“Oscar is the same way. What is with these trainees wanting to spend hours and hours in the library?” Lando’s head was leaned back in mock annoyance. 

Master Carlos, who sat across from the curly-haired man smirked. “You were like that once when you were my padawan Lando.” 

A scoff escaped Lando’s lips. He turned back to Charles. 

“How is Arthur handling everything?” 

Charles smirked. “He cried when we had to cut his hair.” 

“Well, he will get used to it,” a new voice piped up. The man had curly hair, like Lando’s, but a big gummy smile was plastered on his face. 

“Daniel, you don’t understand. He was inconsolable.” Charles’s hands raised in frustration. 

“Does anyone know why we were summoned? And where is Max and Master Horner?” 

The doors slid open and two figures walked in.

“We’re sorry for out tardiness Master Alonso. We had some trouble in the elevators.” Christian sent Max a knowing look that was returned with an eye roll. Max huffed as he sat down in his chair next to Charles. 

Once seated, Christian began to talk. 

“Well, I guess you’re wondering why we were all summoned here today.” 

A snort came from Lando, who quickly shut up after he received a glare from Carlos. He sank back into his chair. 

Christian continued. “Master Vettel and Master Räikkönen think they’ve found the chosen.”

Murmurs began to spread around the room. Annoyed with the added noise, Max was the one who spoke up. 

“Silence.”

The room quieted. 

Daniel was the one to lean forward. “How do they think they’ve found the chosen? It’s just a prophecy that has been collecting dust for centuries.”  

Christian rubbed his face. “All they said was that they felt a disturbance in the force when they visited Naboo for their diplomatic mission. They went to investigate and the force grew stronger the closer they got to the capital center.” 

A hologram erupted from the middle. It was a map of the center with an undergrown view as well. A red beacon signaled from deep down. Max’s finger pointed at it. 

“Underneath they found an illegal human trafficking ring that dealt with children with force sensitivity. When they got there, most of leaders had been knocked unconscious. In the middle was a girl. They said the force just pulsated off her being.” 

Christian picked up from there. “They’re bringing her in in just a few moments. She’s been debriefed about everything and is willing to join the cause.” 

Lando looked intrigued. “Who’s going to be her master.” 

Max leaned back in his chair. “I am.” 

A scoff echoed, but it wasn’t from Lando this time. It was from Master Hamilton. Max tilted his head and cast his gaze on the older Master. 

“Have something to say Lewis?” 

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t someone more,” he paused, “advanced in their Master roll be given the chosen as their padawan?” 

Charles spoke up. “Like you?” 

“Yes,” came the answer from the man. 

Carlos spoke, “But you just brought on your own padawan. I don’t think poor George would be too keen on losing a Master so close to his choosing.” 

“But you shouldn’t give the chosen over to another child.” 

Max stood up in anger. “I’ve been through the trials. I am as much of a Master as you are.” 

“Enough,” a new voice roared as the doors to the room opened. 

They all stood up and sightly bowed their heads. 

“Master Vettel. Master Räikkönen.” 

Behind the two stood a teenage girl. Robes already adorned her body. Her hair was tied in traditional high braids, and a smaller, thinner one draped over her shoulder, showing her status.  

Kimi took his seat in one of the center chairs, but Sebastian stood in the middle with the girl. 

“As you all have probably been briefed by Master Horner, this is Y/n.” 

You took a step forward and kneeled before the council. Sebastian took a step around you and sat in his seat. 

“You may rise.” 

You did as you were told and took a minute to briefly glance at the council of masters. Each one of them winced at the force energy that seemed to just radiate off of you. Well, all of them except one. Your eyes met his electric blue ones. He sent you a comforting smile, which you didn’t have time to send one back before Sebastian spoke. 

“State your name for the council.” 

You inhaled shakily. “My name is Y/n L/n, from Coruscant.” 

Charles leaned towards you, elbows on his knees. “But you were brought here from Naboo.” 

You winced at the mention of the name. The masters could feel your distress and Max wanted nothing more than to elbow Charles for that insensitive question. 

“I was taken, Master, from my home planet and enslaved for the past three years.” 

Charles grimaced at your answer and leaned back, staying silent for the rest of the meeting. 

Kimi sent you a small smile before he cleared his throat. “We have brought you here to begin your padawan training.” 

That must have comforted you since the force wasn’t buzzing as much around you. The masters were now at ease. 

Max wanted to talk, since he was going to be your new master, but he was interrupted by what he thought was a grating voice. 

“So, are you the chosen one?” Lewis questioned, eyes slitted as he looked at you. 

Your ease was now slowly vanishing as you were under the scrutiny of the master. Your gulp was heard through the room. Lando felt bad as he once had been under the same gaze when he was a Padawan. He tried to send you comforting signals through the force. 

“I don’t know for sure if I’m the chosen. I’m just thankful to be alive at this point Master. And I don’t enjoy being picked apart before I even know what I am to begin with.” Your voice had risen in annoyance. “Sir.” 

Max smirked. He didn’t need to look around, he knew the others were also smirking or trying not to laugh. 

Sebastian spoke next. “Y/n, we would like you to pick your master.” 

Max wanted to jump and shout that you were already supposed to be his padawan, but Christian’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

Your tired eyes looked around the room. 

The master with the thick dark hair and tanned skin looked promising, but you could feel that he already had a want for another padawan. He gave off the same energy as the boy with similar hair that you had passed on your way here. His friends called him Rafael. 

Across from him, curly hair caught your attention. But you also felt that he already had what he was looking for. 

Same as the man with the short goatee and green eyes. You felt a familial energy reach out to someone, probably a brother close by. You wouldn’t want to separate them. 

The other curly-haired man showed you a smile that rivaled the sun. Once again, his force energy was already attached, but it seemed he had two. Not rare, but it was weird to feel the force branch like that. 

You had already asked Master Vettel and Räikkönen if you could be there padawan, but they had declined. 

The dark man in the corner was giving you mixed signals that gave you a headache. His energy was split. The one that was attached was waning at you looked at him, almost as if he was trying to break it. At that moment you decided not to choose him. Because if he wasn’t 100 percent sure with his chosen, how could he be sure with you. 

Your gaze finally landed on the blue eyed man that had sent you a smile. His force energy felt like it was vibrating at the same frequency as yours. Which helped it melt into a smooth rhythm. 

When it had stilled, you heart, mind, and force had chosen. 

Max felt it the moment your signature became still for the first time since you stepped foot into the room. 

The other masters, except one, smiled at you. They all stood and left one by one until it was just you and your chosen in the room. 

He stood up and walked toward you. 

Your head bent in a quick bow. “Master.” 

“You can call me Max.” 

Your brows furrowed. “Is that allowed?” 

Max only smirked. “Who cares. I’m your master now. My rules are your rules.” 

You flashed him a smile. “Ok…Max.” 

A grin crept onto his face. “You ready to save the galaxy kid?” 

With a nod, you two shook hands. 

The sunset filled the room as your silhouette became black shapes. Nothing would be better than the orange and pink casts from your home planet as you started your new life as “The Chosen” or better as “Master Verstappen’s Kid.”  

Master and Padawan Pairings:  Max and Y/n Charles and Arthur Carlos and Rafael (FAD)  Lando and Oscar  Daniel and Liam with Yuki  Lewis and George  Not mentioned – Alex and Logan  Former Christian and Max  Former Toto and Lewis  Former Jules and Charles  Former Carlos and Lando

Earth 934

1991

Your eyes glanced around the big train as you tried to find an open seat. Your hands clutched your bag as you kept walking further and further toward the back. You sighed in relief as you finally noticed a room with no one in it. You softly opened the door and slid in. Both seats were empty. 

Taking a minute to breathe, you stared out at the vast country side that the train passed through. You almost fell asleep, but the sudden open and close of the car door made you jump. Your head turned toward the intruder. 

A boy, possibly older than you since he already had his robes, was leaning against the now closed door. He took a deep breath before his blue eyes landed on you. 

“Hi,” you said, not wanting the air to be filled with awkward silence. The boy did not reply, but he did go over and sat on the opposite bench of yours. Your folded your arms. He dared to interrupt your quiet and not respond. 

You opened your mouth to speak once again, but he beat you to it. 

“My name is Max. Sorry for interrupting whatever you had going on.” 

Your mouth closed at his confession. 

“What do they call you kid?” 

“I’m not a kid. I’m twelve years old.” 

Max rolled his eyes. “Which makes you a kid. You’re two years younger than I am.” 

“That makes you fourteen. And by technicalities, you would be a kid as well.” You huffed, not enjoying the teasing from the older boy. 

Max pouted. “Just tell me your name.” 

It was your turn to roll your eyes. 

“It’s L/n. Y/n L/n.” A smirk crept on your face and Max’s mouth dropped open. He leaned forward, almost as if to tell you a secret. 

He whispered. “Do you have, the, you know?” 

Your small hand came up and brushed your little bangs away. There, on your forehead was a lightning bolt shaped scar. It wasn’t like a cartoon shape as it had little bolts that stretched out across and down, but stopping at your eyebrow. 

“Wow,” Max managed to breathe out. “What house do you reckon you’ll get?” 

You shrugged. “Well, my parents died and I was adopted by a muggle couple and they were awful. So I really don’t know what the houses actually stand for.” 

Max looked angry for a moment. “Well, that’s bloody terrible for you have to gone through that. I hope that you’ll get into my house.” He pulled on his green and silver tie. “One of my friends, his name is Lando, is also in Slytherin. But then you have my best friend Daniel in Hufflepuff, Charles is in Gryffindor with his brother Arthur. You’d have to watch out for Lewis though in Ravenclaw, he’s a bit extreme.” 

You took a moment to absorb all of his words. 

“I think I’d like to stay with you or one of your friends.” 

The 14-year-old was elated at the statement. “We’ll see what happens.” 

1997

Your mind often went back to that conversation years ago. It was maybe the last time you ever felt safe anywhere. Hogwarts was supposed to be your home, yet here it lay destroyed. 

That fateful night you had not been chosen to be a part of the Slytherin house, but thankfully you were placed in Gryffindor with Arthur and Charles. They took care of you like a family should have. Max also stayed super close to the three of you. Whether it was going to Honey dukes, playing quidditch, or even making potions in Headmaster Horner’s class, the four of you were together. 

Your wand twirled in your hand as you sat on some broken steps. The once beautiful ceiling had giant holes in it that made way for the night sky. Tears streamed down your face as you pondered your next step. 

It had gone downhill so quickly. 

Lewis, as it turns out, had given your location away to Toto, who had wanted you dead since you were just a baby. He was the one to kill your parents and “bless” you with the mark on your head. The betrayal had sent shivers down everyone’s spine. 

Many people had been killed because of you. 

Charles and Arthur’s brother Jules had been hit by a stray spell. Their screams and wails were now permanently engraved in your brain. 

Max’s girlfriend Kelly, a nice Hufflepuff, had been attacked by a rogue werewolf. She was still alive, but barely. 

Your two Ravenclaw friends, Alex and Logan, were found under some rubble, hands clenched together as to share pain before death. You remembered how Oscar, another Ravenclaw who hung out with you and Lando, sobbed into the latter’s shoulder for hours after he found his blond best friend. 

Your friends had died to protect you and you had done nothing. 

At this thought, your mind was made up. 

Toto wanted one thing, and one thing only: for you to die. For the umpteenth time your mind wandered to his ultimatum that he had given you earlier that evening.

“Y/n L/n. I know that you know that you are trapped now with nowhere to go. Come to the forbidden forest tonight and I will cease all fighting on my end. The rest of your  friends won’t have to die due to your insubordination and fear. When you come, be prepared to die.” 

His snake-like voice had been broadcast through the minds of everyone. Before he had even finished, you took your leave, not wanting to watch as another family wept over a dead brother or sister. 

With shaky legs, you stood up and brushed your skirt. Your face showed your determination as you began to walk down the steps. But as your foot hit the actual floor, a body rammed into yours. 

“Kid!” A voice from farther away yelled, accompanied by quick footsteps. 

A quick glance at the hair that was attached to the body now in your arms let you know it was Arthur. Over the top of his head, you noticed Max and Charles running toward you. 

They were quick to also put their arms around you. 

Max maneuvered your face so that you were looking him in the eyes. 

“Kid, we have to go now before he decides to attack again. Arthur and Charles know a way out. Let’s go.” 

He thought that you had agreed as he turned around to leave. Charles followed him, and Arthur tugged on your hand, as if to lead you away. 

Yet, you stayed put and Arthur’s hand slipped from yours. 

“Y/n?” he asked, looking back with tears in his eyes. You gave him a crooked smile as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over. 

You tilted your head in the opposite direction. That’s when it hit the three men. You had already made up your mind. 

“No, no, no, no. You can’t,” Max choked out the last word. 

“I have to Max. I won’t let another one of our friends die because of me. I can’t risk Daniel leaving you or have Lando taken from Oscar right after Logan.” You looked at the two brothers. “I can’t let you two lose each other. I won’t let that happen to your mom.” 

Charles looked at your with sympathy swarming his green eyes. He slowly walked toward you and gave you a hug. While you were in his arms, his lips met your forehead. You knew that was going to be his goodbye. 

Arthur was next. He pleaded as he curled his arms around you. “Let me go with you. Let me walk with you. I swear I’ll leave before...before...” 

Your hand was slowly placed on his cheek as you shook your head. Another sob escaped his lips and a new tidal wave of tears left his and your eyes. “I can’t risk you. Please, stay with Charles.” 

Arthur begrudgingly nodded, but not before placing a light kiss on your lips. A small smile graced your face as you tried to kiss back through the tears. When the two of you parted, he looked down at you, a sad smile now replacing his frown. 

“Please try to come back to me.” With that, he turned around and left. Charles gave Max a knowing look before he took after his brother. 

It was just you and your oldest friend. 

Max came over and put his hands on your shoulders. He didn’t give you a hug, or a long speech, or a kiss on the forehead like he usually did when he had to leave you at the train station before every summer. He just looked at you before his eyes glanced at your wand. You thrust it in his hands. 

“Take care of them for me?” 

“Always.” 

“Tell Lando that he can have whatever is in my house. I know he was looking at my Nimbus RB20 the other day.” 

“Always.” 

“And Max?”

A hum answered as Max couldn’t find the strength to speak. 

“Watch the sunsets for me?” 

“Always.” 

Finally, you rushed into a hug. Max’s arms couldn’t get any tighter around your form. With one last squeeze, you broke the hug and turned away, not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer. Your walk to the forest was quick, as you wanted this to be over as soon as possible. 

There, suddenly in front of you in all his ugly glory, was Toto. Lewis was to his side, looking rather ashen probably with fear. Even though he betrayed you, you tried to send a comforting smile his way. 

“Are you ready to die?” The snake-like voice hissed. 

“Yes.” 

There was a moment between the yell of “Avada-Kadavra” and when the spell hit you. There, you knew peace. Your body hit the forest floor with a thud.  

Arthur, who was still back at the castle suddenly inhaled sharply. Charles, scared for his younger brother’s sanity, knelt next to him. 

“What is it?” 

Max, Lando, Oscar, and Daniel all crowded around the younger boy. 

He could only whisper. 

“She’s gone.” 

There was no time for mourning as someone screamed out in the courtyard. The group of boys rushed out and what they saw made them stop in their tracks. Headmaster Horner, who had been taken a few days ago, now carried your limp body for all to see. 

“Y/n L/n is dead!” 

“No!” your friend Lily screamed, but was quickly held back by Oscar. 

“Silence. Foolish girl,” Toto hissed. 

Arthur turned and put his head on Charles’s shoulder and wept, not caring anymore. 

“She’s not dead.” Everyone’s heads turned to Max, who had his wand pointed at the dark wizard. “She’s alive,” he gulped, “in all of us. She wouldn’t want us to give up. She’d want us to continue, even when everything seems dark. And I won’t let her die in vain.” 

Toto cocked his head. “Well then, you’ll die along with her.” He pointed his wand at the blue eyed boy, except a large explosion knocked him down. Your rolled out of Christian’s arms and ran toward Max, all while shooting a spell at the downed wizard. 

The students and teachers all ran in different directions. The battle was back on. 

Instead of running away, Max ran to you. He met you halfway and held you at a distance. 

“You came back Kid.” 

“Always.”   

Earth 7521

“When will he get back?” 

Logan stopped his machete in the air. You and he had been out in the sun for a couple of hours, trying to carve poles for the new housing system. 

“He’ll get back before the sun goes down.” 

“But what if he doesn’t?” Your gaze was cast at the big wall with the giant gap in the middle. What went beyond was your guess as you hadn’t been there, and technically you weren’t allowed to go. You’d chosen to be a woodworker, not a runner. 

Logan sighed. He had sworn that he’d take care of the new greenie, but this isn’t exactly what he signed up for. 

“Max always gets back right at the gate closes. Has done every day since I got here. He comes in with Alex and they’ll go to the map room.” He really tried to ease your conscience. You had all but attached yourself to the boy since you got here. He couldn’t blame you since Max was really the first one that you saw. He was the same with Alex, as was Oscar with Lando and Max with Daniel. 

Your brows furrowed. “But Alex just got back and Max isn’t with him.” 

Logan dropped his machete and it thumped in the grass. His head jerked over to where you were looking. There, the Thai runner had just crossed the threshold of the giant gate, but the Dutch runner was nowhere to be found. 

“Stay here,” he demanded, but really didn’t expect you to obey. Anything that had to do with Max, you would find out one way or another. A large groan came from the giant wall, signaling that it was about to close. 

Logan hastened his pace and heard your footsteps try to keep up with him. As he got near, Lewis and Lando both crowded around Alex. The blond picked up on their conversation. 

“Where’s Max?” Lando questioned as his eyes kept flickering between the hunched over runner and the wall. 

Alex sucked in a breath. “We got separated. A griever was out in the open.” 

Multiple gasps came from others as a crowd had formed. 

Lewis’s eyes widened. “But grievers don’t come out in daylight.” 

Alex had a sullen look. “I know.” 

Lando cast another glance at the metal gate that let out another groan and a shake. This time, the doors were slowly closing. 

“So we’re just going to leave Max in there?” Lando gestured. 

Lewis looked down at the ground and nodded. A silence went over the group as they were now preparing to mourn the loss of one of their family. 

Logan’s heart sunk. You must have been devasted. He turned around to where you were supposedly. 

“I’m so s-…Y/n?” His head whipped around trying to find you. His heart sunk even further as his eyes finally found you, right in front of the closing doors. “Y/N!” 

Now you had everyone’s attention. 

“Greenie!” Lewis yelled. 

You simply turned your head and looked at the leader. “I got to go save Max.” It was as if you were explaining a simple toy to a toddler, like it was a matter of fact. 

“Max is gone Kid. We can’t lose you too,” Lando tried to negotiate and distract you as the doors got closer and closer together. 

The doors were so close to closing and Lando thought he was successful. Well, until you bolted and squeezed through the slit. Multiple boys called out for you but it was too late, the doors closed. Logan ran to the metal wall and hit his fist on it multiple times. 

On the other side for you, it was silent. An eerie type and not comforting. You tried not to get distracted at the maze-like sequence of walls that stood before you.

Right. You needed to find Max, and fast. 

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you silently ran and didn’t call out Max’s name. It felt like hours before you finally found him. Your eyes watched as his tried to curl up more, to make himself smaller. 

“Maxie?” you whispered. 

His head shot up, eyes wide as you walked closer to him. 

“Kid? What the hell are you doing here?” he whisper yelled back. You took a seat next to him. 

“I couldn’t leave you out here alone.” 

Max let out a sigh. “Well, now we’ll both be dead by morning.” 

You looked down at his bloodied leg. “What happened?” 

“Alex and I were mapping like always when a griever jumped out. They’re not supposed to be out in the daylight, but they were. I ran right and Alex went left. I thought I got away but I tripped. I think my ankle is sprained or broken. Couldn’t make it back to camp.” 

You absorbed the information before you stood up and took a vine down from the wall. The middle was stiff like a branch and the smaller vines attached to the leaves were bendable. You quickly made work of Max’s ankle and tied the stiff vines to his leg. 

“This should give you enough support so we can get back.” 

Max looked at you with wide eyes. “You’re good at this. Why didn’t you become a medjack?” 

You giggled as you helped him to his feet. “I couldn’t stand the tension between Nico and Lewis anymore and Logan seemed inviting enough.” 

That got a little laugh out of Max. 

The two of you made your way to the gate where you camped out all night. 

“Thank you kid. I’d be dead without you,” Max mentioned when the doors opened the next morning. 

“I know. Look Max, the sunrise!”

“Thanks kid. You know they’re my favorite.”  

Two years later

Those days in the Glade were much better than what you’d been through in the past two years. From running through the desert and being chased by zombie people to now sneaking into the giant headquarters to find some type of cure. 

Your eyes were now on Max as his head swayed back and forth. He didn’t look good as his face was drenched with sweat. 

It had been about a week since he told you that he had been infected. You had cried and cried, promising to find a cure. But that promise seemed to be so far away as you were nowhere closer to finding it.

“Hold on Maxie,” you whispered as you tried to keep him upright. His head was now perched on your shoulder as you continuously looked up in the sky, looking for the rescue helicopter. Charles had disappeared once someone told him that his blood was the cure. He had promised to be back quickly, and that was an hour ago. 

Max didn’t have much time left. 

A thumping in the air caught your attention as you gently placed him back against a wall. Black goup now started to run out of his mouth. You gently wiped it away before placing a kiss on his forehead. 

“Here they come Maxie. Just a few minutes more.” You stood up and turned to try to wave the helicopter in your direction. Your smile grew as it now began to get closer and closer. 

“Max we’re going to be…ok.” As you now faced Max, confusion and fear glossed over your figure as he now stood a few feet away from you. His body twitched as his head swayed back and forth. 

“Max?” 

Your voice seemed to snap Max out of whatever trance he was in as he sudden rushed toward you and knocked you down. You thought this was it as Max’s hands harshly roamed and grabbed at your body. His hands stopped as he found your gun. 

He was quick to cock it and bring it to his head. Your hands were quicker and you knocked it out of his hands and it slid across the floor. Max growled down at you and jumped to go get it, but your hands yanked him back. You grabbed the gun and pointed it at your friend. 

Your heart broke as you looked at his sickly nature. His eyes cleared to that pretty blue that once always covered his eyes with kindness swarming in the storm. But now, he looked at you with a pleading nature. 

“Please, Kid. Please,” he begged, but you couldn’t pull the trigger. 

The clearness was quickly wiped away as you finally lost your friend. He managed to get up and sling the gun out of your head. Somehow, he had gotten a knife from his pack on his body and he came swinging. The two of you fought for a moment, before Max suddenly went still. 

Oh. 

Why did he stop?

Max stumbled back and you finally saw. 

Oh.      

Your lips quivered as you tried to slow his fall to the ground. You gently laid his head on a rock. He wheezed as he looked up at you. The helicopter wind picked up and your hair started to dance around your face. 

Max closed his eyes and his chest rose, fell, and froze. 

Your scream was silenced by multiple yells and the deafening sound of the chopper that had finally come. Hands grabbed your arms and ripped you away from your friend. You tried to fight and claw your way back, but the team was too strong.

They sat you down in a seat and allowed you to just cry. 

Your eyes caught glimpses of orange and yellow out the open door of the flying machine. 

Max would have loved the sunrise.  

Earth 1217 

“Y/n!” The yell of your team principal caught you attention. 

“Yeah?” You set down your race notebook and walked down the office hall. Yes, you hated office days, but at Red Bull you wanted to go over everything that involved you. Call it a bit of a prima-donna attitude, but you weren’t a five time champion or Red Bull’s golden girl for nothing.

“I wanted to take you out to the track. The new recruit is doing his testing laps for next season,” the older Brit mentioned as you joined him in walking down the hallway. 

You turned your head. “I though Daniel was up for Checo’s seat?” 

Christian sighed and looked down as the two of you walked passed the trophy shelves. Most of them were from you. 

“Daniel said he didn’t feel comfortable enough to handle our car. Maybe in a few years after he gets back in the groove in the Alpha Tauri, but not now.” 

You snorted. “Guessing Charles is as comfortable as ever being the Prince of Mercedes?” 

“Ah yes, your childhood friend-slash-rival did ask me to send his kind regards and told you to watch out for any puddles.” Your eyes rolled at the last statement. 

“All right, talk to me. Who else did we ask before you texted me that only said ‘I found him’.” 

Christian sighed as he backed his car out. The two of you had gotten to the parking lot in no time and were now headed to the track. 

“Well, Lando just renewed his contract with Ferrari, same as Oscar. Lewis, well, he never responded and McLaren never got back to us. Most of them aren’t really looking to be second to you.” 

“They’re just mad they’ve been dominated by a woman for five years straight and will be for another three. Maybe after that, someone can be number one.” 

The car jerked as he parked it. You stepped out, tennis shoe hitting the ground. They really went well with what you normally wore: skinny jeans, a Red Bull Polo, and your number 1 hat. 

The roar of the RB18 caught your attention as your eyes watched it zoom by. A bright yellow helmet caught your attention, but it went around the corner too quickly for you to watch. 

Once at the mock garage, you met up with Mitch and junior race engineer GP. Apparently the new recruit had wanted to keep his engineer with him through everything. Which you understood as you brought Mitch over with you after your McLaren days. 

“So is this Sargeant? His second place in the championship looked promising, but he was a bit slow,” you mentioned as your sunglasses covered eyes looked around. An angry looking man stood in the corner, bit headphones on his ears. 

"No. It's not Sargeant. His name is Max Verstappen. He jumped from F3."

Your eyes narrowed at the big angry man who seemed like he wanted to take a fork to a mechanic. You leaned over to Christian. “My abusive-parent radar is going off. I want him out of the garage.” 

Christian once again sighed. “I can’t throw our new driver’s father out of the garage on a hunch.” 

You took a sip of your Red Bull. “You did it with my parents.” 

“Y/n, they hit you in front of me. I had proof. Just wait a bit and we’ll watch him.” 

You huffed. “Fine, but he doesn’t come to any debriefs or meetings.” 

“Perfect.” He clapped his hands and your attention was now placed back at the newbie’s times. He was driving just a bit slower than you, but they were marginal tenths and hundredths behind. 

Mitch, being the senior engineer, clicked a button. “All right Verstappen, bring it back in.” 

“Got it. Thank you!” 

You hummed. “Polite kid.” 

Your RB18 pulled up and a scraggly kid jumped out of the car. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his dad got off his ass and started to come over. Not wanting anything to happen, you made your way to the boy, cutting him off. 

He had just taken his helmet and balaclava off when you reached him. Christian came up and joined you. The boy finally noticed you and looked at you with a gaze of amazement. 

“Max right?” you questioned and held out a hand to the Dutch kid. 

He nodded, still trying to take in the sight of his role model right in front of him. That’s when he noticed that you were still waiting for him to take your hand. He yanked off a glove and shook your outstretched hand. 

“Max Verstappen.” 

“How old are you?” You took another sip of your Red Bull and offered Max one as well, who took it quickly. 

“I’m nineteen, but I’m turning 20 at the end of September.” 

You had a fond smile on your face. You knew what it was like to be thrust into this life at a young age. Hell, Christian took a chance on you when you were just seventeen. 

“Who’s your favorite driver?” Mitch questioned, standing behind you. You knew she was teasing the boy as his face got red really quick. 

He mumbled, “You.” 

You had a shit-eating grin on your face as you look down at the boy. You went to say something else, but he beat you to it. You had a feeling that he might do it more often, but you didn’t mind. 

“I, uh, just wanted to say that I’m perfectly fine with being number two driver. I know you’re on a mission to make it to 8 championships. And I’d like to help you do it.” 

Your heart may have melted at the confession. 

“Well, once I get my 8 championships, let me tell you what. We here at Red Bull like to be record breakers, so I’ll help you make it 9. Sound like a good deal?” 

Max’s face lit up at the semi-promise of not just one championship, but nine! 

“Sounds good.” A giggle left his lips.

The sun was setting as you were all called for a brief meeting so that Max could sign the contract. Orange and yellows blended in together and bathed the two of you in its glory. 

“Ok then, welcome to the team kid!” 

Earth 1218 – Present Earth 

TikTok had become your addiction when you had spare minutes in your busy life. Videos passed by so quickly, you sometimes didn’t even register what it said. Thankfully though, you managed to not accidentally like anything that could harm your career before it barely got started. 

One trend seemed to be very popular at this time. Your fingers would swipe through the photos of various TV and movie characters. The pictures on each slide had the same captions. One being “Do you think we’re together in every universe?” and the other “I sure hope so.” 

You’d already asked Arthur and he just rolled his eyes. 

“Of course we would be. I think you’re stuck with me wherever you are,” he had told you. 

Yet, there was one driver who you really needed to ask. You had already seen versions of this made for multiple driver pairs. The ones of Charles and Max, Oscar and Logan, and Lando and Daniel always made you cry. You couldn’t help it. 

But, the ones of you and Max always made your heart happy. You knew that you weren’t the easiest to take care of and you came with baggage. However, Max never made you feel bad about it: he did the opposite. Many times, he made you forget all the bad things in your life by just being there. 

You sent him one of the generic ones from someone’s random account.

Little Racer 

https.www.tiktok./KID89.192&MAX0133/ Do you think we’re together in every universe? 

It took him a few minutes to respond since he was often busier than you were. The season was coming to an end, and his fourth championship was in his grasp. 

Big Racer 

I’m sure of it kid. Can’t get rid of me that easily. 

Little Racer 

And you still probably type like a grandpa in every one too! :P 

You laughed out loud when three middle finger emojis followed your text. Where you were sitting in the living room of your Monegasque apartment, the sunset caught your eye. You smiled as the rays nearly blinded you, but you were fine. The warmth spread across your cheeks as the rays kissed your face with softness. 

You didn’t know what other versions there were of you. You honestly didn’t care. Because as long as you had Max, you’d be just fine.

 

Across every earth, galaxy, and universe you’d find yourself dreaming of a life you didn’t live, but could only imagine how good everything would be in the end. 

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @aeh2 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hey,

could you please write a one-shot,where Hannibal is obsessively in love with an FBI teacher, who is similar to Will. She doesn‘t want to go in the field, because of some trauma and Hannibal needs to help her overcome it, in order for her to be ready.(nsfw?)

Hannibal x Reader: Exposure Therapy

Warning: trauma, smut, p in v (penetration), quickie, kissing, fluff, no use of y/n, female anatomy, not proofread.

Word count: 1,2 k

“I can’t do it.”

“Yes you can. Push me off.”

Hannibals has his body on top of yours. He’s straddling you, his body weight keeping you stuck to the ground. You can feel the panic starting to get to you. Your chest heaves as your breathing starts to pick up. You squirm beneath him trying to get away. Hannibal can see this is starting to be too much for you but he needs to prove to you that you can do this.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Your panicked eyes find him. Even if this is just pretending your body is already in fight or flight mode so the sight of  his eyes doesn't calm you down like it usually does.

“You can do this. Remember to focus on your breathing and use the things the FBI taught you.”

You’d come into his office a couple of months ago. You’d been called to help out on the field but it proved to be a more difficult challenge then you had anticipated. You’d had a panic attack on a crime scene and Jack had thought it was best if you had some sort of support. That's when Dr. Lecter stepped in.  In your weekly sessions you and Hannibal tried to work through your issues. You’d told him that when you were younger you’d been caught off guard by a robber. The man had grabbed you and forced you into the ground. You’d been too scared to move and even though the situation hadn’t escalated farther than just a robbery you still woke up in a cold sweat at night. 

You could feel the pressure of the man's body on yours as you lay still on the ground. Before that day you hadn't been afraid of anything but ever since then every small sound made you jump. It had taken months of work to get you confident enough to step onto another crime scene but there was still room for improvement. You’d been training self defense with the FBI but when it came to defending yourself in real life you still froze up. That's how you found yourself in your current situation. 

Hannibal wanted to test out what you’d learned so he could help you stop freezing up when you were in danger. He’d thought it would be a good idea if he was the one to test you because you’d grown comfortable around him. You knew he wouldn’t actually hurt you so it would make things less stressful. Or so you’d thought. 

You focus on your breathing trying to calm your heart down. Once you manage to steady yourself you open your eyes. Hannibal watches your features shift into a small snarl. You take a deep breath in before you start moving. Hannibal tries his best to keep you beneath him and you put up a good fight. He’d told you to be as rough as you needed to and that was what you were doing. When you saw he wasn’t going to let up you shifted, freeing your hand from beneath him. Hannibal let out a groan, his hands moving to cup his nose. You’d just punched him. Some of his weight was lifted off you causing you to be able to move. You grabbed his shoulders, shoving them to the side with all your might. Hannibal felt his body tip over, his back moving in contact with the ground. You straddled him, your hand moving to grab your gun. Hannibal looked  up at you as you pointed your gun at him.

“Stay down.”

Your chest heaved as you kept your gun pointed at Hannibal. He removed his hand from his nose allowing you to see the grin that was plastered on his face. The sight made you relax a bit. You moved to place your gun back in your holster. Once you had made sure the safety was on you went to get off Hannibal. You began to move your leg up when Hannibal grabbed your waist. You looked down at him.

“You okay?”

“My nose is throbbing.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You could kiss it better.”

You laughed at Hannibal, leaning down to place a kiss to the tip of his nose. He lifted his head a bit allowing your lips to come in contact with his mouth instead of his nose. You smiled against his lips. 

During your sessions you and Hannibal had realized the two of you were harboring feelings for each other. In the last few weeks you’d started taking things to another level. You weren’t dating or anything but you had grown quite intimate.

“You looked hot.”

“Oh yeah?”

Hannibal leaned up to rest on his elbows. His lips move to latch onto your neck. You groaned as he continued to suck at your skin. Your hands moved to grab onto his head, fingers playing with his hair. You could feel Hannibal growing hard beneath you and as much as you wanted to give in you knew he had a client coming soon.

“Hannibal.”

“Yes dear?”

“You have another session soon.”

Hannibal gazed at the clock.

“I still have thirty minutes.”

“We can’t do anything in thirty minutes Hanni.”

“Are you doubting my skills?”

You placed a kiss to his lips, feeling his hand begin to grip the flesh of your ass. He lifted his hips up bucking into you.

“Fine. But be quick.”

A smile appears on Hannibal's lips as he moves to flip positions with you. He settled on top of you, his hands moving to unbutton your pants. You lifted your hips so he could tug your clothes down your legs. A gasp left your lips as Hannibal's fingers moved over your fold.

“This wet?”

You hand moved to grab onto his hard-on. He hissed as you palmed him through his pants.

“You’re one to talk.”

Hannibal let out a growl, his lips latching onto your neck once again. You tugged his dick out from his confines giving it a stroke before guiding it to your pussy. Hannibal helped you out, moving his hips forward. Your head lifted off the ground as you moaned. Hannibal wrapped his arms around your body holding you close to him as he began to move. He wanted to draw this feeling out but he knew he was working on borrowed time. Hannibal sped up his pace. You ass rubbed against the floor as Hannibal continued to thrust into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. You clawed at his back gasping as you searched for your orgasm. Hannibal moved one hand to your pussy, focusing on your clit. 

“Hannibal, I'm close.”

“Shhh just a bit more.”

A couple more thrusts and you were seeing stars. Your pussy gripped onto Hannibal's dick like a vice causing him to spiral into his own orgasm. He collapsed next to you on the floor. You closed your eyes trying to regain your breath.

“Told you I could do it.”

“Oh shut up.”

Hannibal laughed, his head turning to look at you. You moved closer to place a kiss on his lips. After a while you got up, tugging your clothes back on. Hannibal lead you to the door, pulling you into one last kiss before saying goodbye.

“You’re gonna be great tomorrow.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“Remember if anything happens I'm just a phone call away.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Bye Hanni.”

“Bye dear.”

[misguidedasgardian]

Blurred Lines / Prologue

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your separation with Harwin wasn’t easy, specially with his oldest son hanging around your home 

Warnings: Cursing, cheating, adultery, talks about body shaming, talks about postpartum depression, therapy, Harwin is a c*nt, for reals, like, sorry, I love him, sorry sorry, misogynistic beliefs, body shaming, again, Harwin is not a good person on this… 

Wordcount: X K

Notes: Uff this is a tough one, I never thought I’d write something like this, it quite evolved from Jace’s darkish spicy one shot with Alicent, so it wasn’t really a surprise that it evolved into this actually, jeje well, have fun, and i think that in the future I’ll write the other one too, “the boy next door” muahaha

“She is 21 Harwin! what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“It just happened!”, Jace looked up, almost rolling his eyes at the back of his skull

“She is the same age as your oldest child!”, you whined

 “I never meant for it to get this far..”

“It’s been happening for three months, Harwin!”, your broken voice made him shiver as he played with a rubber ball against the wall of his room

“We haven’t had sex in forever”, he heard his father said

“Because you…”, he raised his head off of his pillow, wanting to heard what she was supposed to say, but he didn’t hear anything else, “I can’t do this”, Jace smiled wickedly

He knew it was a matter of time before his father screwed up the best thing that ever happened to him, well, after he and his brothers

“What do you mean?”, he asked

“I think you should leave”, you whined

“The boys are sleeping in here”, he said

“Tomorrow they go back to Rhaenyra’s, sleep on the couch”, your voice sounded so broken, the only thing he wanted to do was hug you tightly against his chest 

“We can work through this”, he said, so faintly Jace almost missed it

“No we can’t”

“Think of Aerea, she is only two”

“I wish you had thought of her when you were having an affair with your secretary, of all people Harwin, like, really? that cliché?”

“She was there, when you wouldn’t…”, you said nothing, and Jace, even through the wall of his room, could feel the tension rising in the living room, just next door

You were discussing in shushes, but he could still hear you clearly, and smiled about it 

“Say something”

“What would you like me to say?”

“Yell at me, throw something at my head… something…”, he said

“Your sons and our daughter are sleeping under this roof”, you sounded devastated, but he couldn’t hear tears and sobs, and that made it worse

“We can work through this”, he repeated

“No we can’t”, you said back

“We can go to therapy”, he continued

“Harwin, when I was diagnosed with postpartum depression, you wouldn’t go with me”, Jace opened his eyes widely, “In my worst days, you weren’t there in that sofa with me, but now you are willing to go to fix your own fuck up?”

“Please, it will be different this time”, he whispered 

“Don’t touch me”, and then is when Jace got ready to pounce, if his father didn’t relent, he didn't know what was happening, but if he heard you asking him to release you one more time, he was going to jump his own father

“Please, my love”

“You disgust me Harwin, even thinking about touching you makes my skin crawl”

“I’m still me, I’m the same person you married”, he said

“That man died when you told me you didn’t want to touch me five months after Aerea was born, when you confessed, while drunk, that you couldn’t stand looking at my stretch marks, that my postpartum body disgusted you” 

“I didn’t mean any of those things”

“But you did Harwin, you never fucked me again, not for the lack of trying, it was humiliating”... there was an awful silence, in which, Jace couldn’t believe how the fucking planets were aligning for him, “so exactly what is it that you want to salvage? your second failed marriage? too much humiliation for you?”

“No… I love you”, he heard him say, “I realize now I need help, professional help, let’s get therapy…”

“I don’t want to fight anymore Harwin”, you whispered, Jace had to stuck his head to the wall

“Good, me neither”, he said, relieved

“No, I don’t want to fight anymore, for us”

“You don’t want to fight for us?”, he asked back

“No”, Jace could laugh in relief, as his hopes and dreams were suddenly materializing

While your world was crashing down around you

The worst part? as you admitted you didn’t want to forgive him, that you didn’t want to “work” in fixing something you didn't even break yourself, you saw in your soon to be x-husband, the pain and heartbreak

Harwin had always been so easy to read, his eyes said it all, not that his mouth didn’t. If he was happy you could tell, in the way he talked, and moved, if he had a rough day at work (which he hadn't in the last couple of months), you would have known before he even opened the door, only the slam on his own car door would tell you in what mood he was in, even as he opened the door and stepped in to the house.

And now? he looked completely devastated, as you told him you didn’t want to forgive him, that you didn't want to “work things out”

“You are going to throw it all away?”, he asked

“You did Harwin, when you started to fuck your 21 year-old secretary, of all people”, you whined, “like, really? she could be your daughter”

“I did it because… I was stressed, she was there, we haven’t been… intimate, since a long time”, you where whispering now, your temper had subsided, and it was true, you had your daughter, and Harwin’s kids from his first marriage sleeping in your home, you couldn’t wake them 

“How do you expect me to be intimate with you Harwin?”, you asked, eyes filling with tears of anger and humiliation, “after what you said to me that night?”

“I was drunk”

“Even if you were, actions speak louder than words don’t they? you were the one who rejected me at every turn for the past year, only started fucking me again when you started doing your secretary, its disgusting” 

Your eyes traveled to the papers you had printed, that harlot had the audacity of emailing you texts and conversations between them.

The fact is, that you had grown apart from your husband after Aerea was born, you got into a deep postpartum depression, you didn’t want to leave the house, you had to admit, you let yourself go, and Harwin wasn’t there, he didn’t even believed in therapy, and wouldn’t go with you as much as you had implored him to.

But you found comfort in your daughter, and when she started growing into a beautiful, kind, smart, calm little girl, you wanted to think you flourish again, you began cooking for yourself and Harwin, no more takeout, you stopped wearing sweats, you started moving move, your body slowly coming back to where it was, but it hasn't yet, you had made your peace, he hadn't

Aerea was the perfect little girl, and that did wonders for your deep doubts and PPD.

“Please”, he whispered, grabbing your upper arms, “I can change… I would do anything for you”

“Then give me time”, you begged him, “please, move out, I can’t even dared to look at you right now”, you whispered, releasing myself from his grasp

“I have the kids a week on and off, where am I going to go?”, he said then

“Well, I’ll go, I’ll take Aerea and go to my godmother’s”, you offered, and now he looked panicked

“No, is alright, the kids leave tomorrow, how a week to start sounds?”, he asked, and you barely nodded

“Sleep on the couch”, you asked, “and tell that fucking tart that if she ever contacts me again I will ran her over with my car”

“She and I are not talking anymore”, he said

“Oh good”, you whispered sarcastically

“Please, my love”, he begged again, “I cannot afford to lose you, or Aerea”

“You already lost me Harwin”, you said, not dared to look at him in those eyes that even now could melt you, “And Aerea, well… you won’t, she is a daddy’s girl trough and trough”, there was no smiles, no nothing you couldn’t even look at him in the face

It hurts too damned much

He was your husband, you married when you were 25 and he was 36, now, four years later and a two-year old, it had faded pretty quickly

You were destroyed over this.

You met him, coincidentally, when you started an internship in the company Harwin worked at, you were not his secretary, you were an intern and he was just an executive, he was way older, handsome, so sweet, nice, in a lumberjack kind of way, he was divorced and had three children, little guys who you adored with all your life, well, at least Luke and JOffrey who ere really young when you married Harwin.

 When you got married he insisted you stayed home because he wanted more children, and you obliged, you haven't worked since then, your life revolved around him, your home, and specially your child

But that wasn’t enough for Harwin.

You slept alone, when Aerea woke in the middle of the night, you went and grabbed her, Harwin slept sloppily in the small bed in her room, didn’t even wake, and you brought her to sleep with you, she was calmed almost immediately.

The next day you held her in your arms as you got up and went to make breakfast, Jacaerys, Harwin’s oldest child, he was pushing 21 right now, was behind the kitchen island, making scrambled eggs, he had woken up before you apparently

“Good morning”, he purred

“Good morning Jacey”, you greeted with smile, Aerea threw her chubby arms at him and he smiled warmly, taking his baby sister in his arms

“Good mornin’ mama”, he greeted, you thought he was sweet, he obviously was talking to Aerea, who cling onto him like a Koala

“How do you like your eggs?”, he asked

“Surprise me, I’ll put on some toast and coffee, and juice for Aerea and Joffrey”

“Already got it”, he said, with his head signaling at the table, you smiled

“You are too kind Jace”

It was summer, he was on vacations, and he joined his brothers who were still underage on visiting Harwin every other week, Harwin got a big house for all of you to fit in, and Harwin’s sons were just so kind, it was sweet having them around 

If only you knew what Jace was only thinking that this was going to be his life in a couple of years, of course the baby that he was going to hold was going to be his, and Aerea would be sitting on the table by herself, eating the pancakes his stepdaddy was going to make for her. 

You missed the smug look Jace gave Harwin over the table, as you didn’t even look at him, this was going to be the last family breakfast in a long time…

You also missed the way Jace looked at you and then at his father, he was the only one who knew besides you both, that it was Harwin’s last day with you as well 

“Thank you for everything (y/n)” said Luke sweetly as you said your goodbyes at the door

“You are most welcome sweet Luke, thank YOU for coming”, you kissed him on the cheek and hugged him, you were going to miss him, and Joffrey, who was ten and clinged into you, you kissed the top of his head too

“bye Aerea”, he then kissed his sister on the cheek and then ran back to his car, only Jace was left, he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, you turned your face for accident, and his lips landed way close to the corner of your lips, but it was probably a mistake

“See you next week”, he said with a shy smile 

“See you”, you whispered and smiled, you didn’t have the nerve to tell him that probably you were not going to see him again…

Aerea waved her hands saying goodbye as the car drove away, you wiped the bitter tears that fell down your cheeks, your chest hurt, your heart breaking, Harwin had sneaked a bag, so he was not coming back, and neither were the boys next week… 

Or that is what you thought…

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Could you write a little story where Sal and Tommy were in a secret romantic relationship when they were at the 118 ?

Fast forward to the present time : Sal is finally out and wants to resume his story with Tommy, which triggers jealousy in the relationship Tommy/ Buck.

It would give Tommy complicated feelings at first, especially about his past and who he was at the time, but it would remain clear that his history with Sal is long over and that Buck is the long term for him.

Thank you very much 🩶

So I semi-cheated with this one. The first half of this is actually from a prompt I wrote a few days ago, but I was reading through it and realised it actually worked really well as the beginning part of this prompt. I hope you enjoy it!

As always you can send me your bucktommy, saltommy or Tommy prompts to my ask.

Thank you 🩶

*******

Things were going well for Sal. Professionaly speaking that is. He'd finally made Captain at the 122 and had a great team of people under his helm. It had been a rocky start when Captian Nash had transferred him out. It took him months of acting out and a whole bucket of denial before he finally admitted to himself that he was the one the blame. That he had wanted to be Captain of the 118 and his behaviour toward Nash had come from resentment and jealousy.

Six months after leaving he found out Gina was getting remarried and thinking about moving to the other side of the country, taking the twins with her. And then he found himself being given an ultimatum by his Captain after a turning up to work with alcohol on his breath: go to therapy or go home. Permanently. He'd chosen the former, and 5 years down the line it could happily admit that it was the best decision he'd ever made.

His co-parenting relationship with Gina, who chose to stay, was better than it ever was when they were married. He even attended her wedding!

There was, however, one thing from his past that still haunted him.

Tommy.

There had always been something there between them. Something that they both thought was just friendship. That all changed one night after a particularly tough shift when Tommy had invited him over to his place for some beers. Gina was thinking about moving closer to her parents and Sal was devastated at the thought.

"It's just.. my girls are my world. If Gina takes them away I don't know what I'll do." He placed his head in his hands and tried to sniff away the emotion. Tommy slid closer to him on the sofa and placed a comforting hand between Sal's shoulder blades and rubbed gently.

"It'll be okay. Gina knows how much you love those kids." He said. Sal sniffed again.

"I don't know, Tommy."

"Look at me." He told Sal. Sal sniffed again and lifting his head to meet Tommys gaze. "You might be a crappy husband but you're an amazing dad."

"You really think that?" He asked; his eyes wet and pleading.

"Yes." He answered. Tommy's eyes were soft and his reassuring smile was easy. Sals heart was hurting and he was terrified of losing his girls. He knew he could rely on Tommy to give him some comfort but he needed more. He needed security. He needed a promise that it would all be okay. He needed something to be wrapped around his insides, to really feel it would all be okay. As he thought about it all, he found himself looking at Tommys lips. He hadn't done it consciously but he was doing it. Without warning an idea popped into his head that shot fire into his organs. But without the level headed-ness of sobriety, he acted before he could analyse the thought.

He leaned forward and kissed Tommy. Tommy kissed back without hesitation. The kiss was big and wet. Drunken. Sal pushed his body forward, tipping Tommy back onto the couch with him on top. It was a big mistake. The quick movment sent a massive wave of nausea through Sal and he grabbed at his mouth.

"Woah!" Tommy called out pushing Sal back up and reaching out for the empty popcorn bowl on the table, shoving into Sals lap just in time to catch the repeat of Sals dinner and beer. Tommy got up to use the bathroom and get Sal a glass of water and by the time he came back into the living room Sal was already passed out on the couch.

The next morning, in the vice grip of a hangover, Sal had said he didn't remember anything from the previous night and Tommy didnt remind him. But the truth was he remembered it all. He remembered the feel of his lips on Tommy's, the electricity that surged in his stomach at the touch, the way his heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. All of it. But he was too confused, embarrassed and terrified to address it.

Until a week later when he'd gone to Tommy's to watch a pay per view fight, and when Tommy had laughed at something Sal had said - something that he couldn't remember anymore - and his face had crinkled with that big smile, he'd kissed him again. Only this time he was sober. Tommy once again had reciprocated. This kiss however was different from the last. It wasn't drunken and all over the place. It was slow and gentle. Tentative. It happened a few more times that night and everytime Sal felt like he was floating.

They began seeing eachother in secret. Over the next year things got deeper between them. Within a month they'd agreed to not see other people and 6 months in Sal had been the first to say "I love you." Tommy had beamed and said it back.

Every so often Tommy would approach the subject of going public. But Sal always shut it down.

"I get this is new for you, and not for me. And I don't want you to feel pressured. But, I love you and I want us to be in a normal relationship. One where I get to take you out and show you off." Tommy had said one night, as they lay in his bed in a post coital haze.

"I know, and I love you too, Tommy. But I'm just.. I'm not ready. I'm from a big, traditional Catholic family, you know that. It's gonna cause a lot of shit. Shit that I'm not ready to deal with." He'd argued.

Tommy knew it wouldn't be easy for him and he'd probably lose family over it. And he knew how much that would hurt Sal and so he backed off. But the longer their relationship went on, the harder it got for Tommy. He was feeling like a dirty secret. He began resent Sal for it.

And then the fight happened. The fight that changed everything.

They'd gone to a bar after shift with a few other members of the 118. Tommy tried to sit next to Sal at the table and Sal had responded by scooting around to the other side. Tommy tried to ignore the shitty feeling it gave him. Until Hen had pointed out a gorgeous woman standing at the bar.

"I'd sell my own mother get a piece of that." Sal told her with a laugh. Tommy's stomach sank at the comment. His heart broke. In that moment he realised that Sal would probably never be ready to be with him. Not entirely. Not like Tommy needed. Sal knew his comment probably hurt Tommy and for the next moments avoided his eyes. Tommy, however, stood up.

"Im actually really tired, so I'm going to head home. I'll see you guys tomorrow." He told them and left the bar, not giving Sal or anybody a chance to respond.

Two hours later Sal showed up at Tommy's.

"I really can't talk to you right now, Sal. Please, just go home." He tried to close the door but Sal, though 2 inches shorter than Tommy, was actually a little stronger and pushed past him at the door and walked into the kitchen.

"Sal, I'm serious." He told him, firmly.

"I know why you're mad, Tommy and I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Tommy asked.

"For making those comments in the bar. I shouldn't have said that in front of you." Sal said. Tommy scoffed.

"Sal, you shouldn't have been saying them at all! And you wouldn't have if Hen, or anybody else, knew about us."

"You know why I can't! And we can't keep having this same fight." Sal argued back.

"I do know why, Sal. And I get it. You know I do. I've been there. But I can't.. I can't live like this. I can't spend another day feeling like your dirty little secret. It's breaking my heart."

Sal ran a hand though his hair. He knew how he was making Tommy feel and he hated it. It broke his own heart to know he was doing that to Tommy. But he was terrified of losing everything if people found out. His parents, the girls.. he couldn't lose them. But he didn't want to lose Tommy either. He loved him.

"I just.. I want to be.. I want to tell people, Tommy. I want to be the man that makes you feel good and not the man that makes you feel bad. But-"

"You're not ready." Tommy finished. His tone full of realisation. Sal was never going to be ready. He could stay with him and hope that one day, someday, Sal would feel he was ready. But there was no guarantee that that day would ever come. And Tommy couldn't hold out hope any longer.

"Im not ready." Sal repeated looking down.

"I can't be someone's secret, Sal. Even if I do love them. I'm sorry." Sal looked up to see a tear rolling down Tommy's cheek.

"Wait, are you.. are you breaking up with me?!" Sal said incredulously.

"Im sorry, Sal. I can't do this anymore. And I'm not going to force you to come out, because that would be a really shitty thing to do. But that means my only option is to walk away. I've worked so hard over the last few years to become someone I'm proud of and I can't go back to hiding in the closet. I'm sorry. I just can't."

"Tommy, please, " Sal pleaded. He stepped closer to Tommy "I promise i-"

Tommy stepped back.

"No, Sal." His voice was low and shaky. He was using everything within him to hold back more tears that were desperate to fall. Sal held his gaze for a moment, hoping it would change. Eventually Tommy's eyes moved away. Sals heart broke. He wanted to say something. Anything. A thousand things to beg Tommy to not do this. But he couldn't. That fear of coming out was far too deep rooted. He simply turned and walked out of Tommy's house.

The next week at work was excruciating. Seeing Tommy everyday and not being able to talk to him or touch him was almost physically painful. Tommy had tried to speak to him, to make sure he was okay but he couldn't handle that. He snapped at him, sniped at him and was generally being a bastard. They'd had another new captain, Nash, and Sal was not making a good impression on him by behaving the way that he was. It all came to a head after a shift when Nash had reprimanded him for putting them in danger on a scene. Nash had fired him. He'd changed his mind the next day and instead chose to transfer him to the 122, but for a while Sal thought he whole world was falling apart.

5 years later, and his life was entirely different. His work and home life were exactly what he'd wanted them to be. With one exception. He was alone. He'd dated here or there over the years. Including men once he'd accepted that he did in fact like men, too. But it never worked out. They weren't Tommy. Losing him was the biggest regret of his life.

He and his team had gone out for drinks one evening at a random badge and ladders bar. He'd left the group the get another drink and stood at the bar. Movement in his peripheral vision made him look to the right and his heart almost stopped at the sight of the man standing at the bar.

"Tommy?"

"Sal." Tommy's faced crinkled with that big smile he always loved. He moved closer and immediately hugged him, slapping his back with a large hand. He still smelled the same, Sal thought. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah, you too."

"So how's things?" Tommy asked.

"Uh, good. I made Captain at the 122"

"Thats great. Congratulations!"

"Thanks. What about you? You still at the 118?"

"No, I transferred out. I'm at Harbour." He told him.

"You flying again? I know you always wanted to do that again since you left the army." Sal remembered the night they were lying in bed and Tommy had told him how much he had missed being in the air.

"Yeah. I definitely missed it."

"Well I'm glad you're happy there." Sal smiled.

"Hey, Howie and Hen are back there, why don't you come and say Hi." Tommy suggested. Sal contemplated it for a moment.

"That's alright, I'll leave you guys to it."

"No way. I know they'd love to see you. C'mon." He held Sals arm and pulled him through the crowd. The feel of Tommy's hand on his bare forearm felt exactly had it did 5 years before. He wanted that feeling tattooed permanently on his skin.

"Guys look who I found!" He called out as they approached the table.

"Deluca?" Hen questioned with a smile. "It's been a while." She stood to hug him.

"Yeah. How are you? How's Karen?" He asked.

"Good. We're both good."

"How's things at the 122?" Chim asked. Tommy grabbed Sals shoulder.

"Sal, here made Captain." Sal noticed an element of pride in Tommy's voice. He was still proud of him all these years later? A warmth filled his heart. He'd convinced himself that Tommy still hated him.

"Hey thats awesome, congrats." Chim exclaimed.

"Sorry about that." Buck walked up to them. "That was Maddie on the phone. She wants us to babysit Jee-yun on Saturday."

"Let me guess.. Jee wants us to take her to the zoo?" Tommy asked with a fond smile.

"Are you surpised?" Buck asked. "You can't say no to her. She's got her uncle Tommy wrapped around her little finger. She knows you'll give her anything she wants." He laughed.

Her uncle Tommy?

"And I wouldn't have it any other way." He said. Buck smiled at him fondly and pressed a chaste kiss on Tommy's lips.

Sals heart broke all over again. He knew logically that Tommy had more than likely moved on. It had been 5 years. But there was a part of Sal that still held on to hope. That hope was now blown to smithereens in a painful blast to his heart.

"Oh, this is Sal. Old 118. Sal this is my boyfriend Evan." Buck reached out his hand to shake Sal's.

"Buck. Everyone calls me Buck."

"It's, uh.. Good to meet you." He scanned the man in front of him. He was taller than himself, and leaner though still muscular like him. He had dirty blonde hair also like him. Tommy definitely had a type.

"Im starving. We should order food." Buck told Tommy.

They sat back at the table as to scan the bar menu. Tommy arm was across Bucks shoulder as they pointed to things and discussed what they were going to order. There was a domesticity to their body language. An easy closeness. One that Sal had Tommy once had a long time ago. Tommy was happy. Anybody with eyes could see that.

The last little piece of hope hidden deep inside Sal's heart floated away.

***

"You okay?" Buck asked Tommy. They were sitting on Bucks couch watching TV later that night. Well, Buck was watching, Tommy's eyes were staring into vacant space. "Earth to Tommy."

"Huh?" He replied, coming back to reality.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He sipped his beer. Buck turned off the TV and turned to face him.

"Tommy, when we first started dating you made a big deal about me communicating with you always so that you knew I was okay. But that works both ways. So if something is wrong you need to tell me."

Tommy looked at him. His sweet, earnest face was something that had become one of Tommy's favourite things. He sighed.

"Nothings wrong. Not really. It's just.." He began picking at the sticker on his beer bottle. "You remember when I cut our first date short because I thought you weren't ready? Well.. Sal was the reason." Bucks brows pushed together in confusion.

"Sal and I.. We.. he was my first love."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Tommy nodded, concentrating on a particularly difficult section of the sticker. "We were together for almost a year. Nobody knew. For the first few months I don't mind the secrecy. I felt like I had this exciting thing that was just my own. But then.. I started to feel like I was ready to go public. I wanted to tell the world that I loved him. But.."

"But he wasn't ready?" Buck guessed.

"I mean I understood - he came from a very traditional family that had a correct way of doing things. You marry a nice girl, have babies and live happily ever after. I got that it would be hard to go against that. But I just.. I couldn't carry on feeling like someone's dirty secret anymore. I broke his heart. And mine. Walking away was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.."

"Do.. do you regret doing it?" Tommy knew what Buck was really asking - do you regret being with me and wish you could be with Sal again?

Buck felt a sense of something in his stomach. Jealousy? It seemed ridiculous, he knew that. He'd been in love before himself - he couldn't expect Tommy to not have. But hearing about Sal triggered his deep seated feelings of not being good enough. Tommy had been nothing but patient with him, and had never, not once, made him feel like he was hard to be with. But Buck still had that fear in the pit of his stomach that one day Tommy was going to realise that he wasn't good enough, or too much hard work and that it would be easier to be with someone else. Someone like Sal.

"No." Tommy said softly, but confidently, looking directly at Buck. "I did for a while, yeah. I spent a couple of years rolling the 'what ifs' around in my mind. But ultimately I knew I had made the right decision for me. Just seeing him again reminded me of all of that, ya know. The pain and uncertainty and fear. I'd forgotten what all that felt like. I guess it just threw me remembering it all."

He put his beer bottle on the coffee table and turned his body to face Buck, taking his hand.

"But listen, If there was any doubt floating around somewhere deep in the back of my mind, it was blown away the second I kissed you for the first time." Buck smiled and looked at him all bashful - something Tommy adored. "Evan, I know I'm not the greatest at sharing my feelings sometimes - spending most of your life hiding how you feel is a habit not easy to break - but I do not regret a single decision that led me to you. I love you, Evan. I know that its probably too soon to say it, but its true. And i dont want you to live another minute without knowing that."

Bucks arms came flying at him and around his neck, squeezing him tightly.

"Woah!" Tommy cried out, as the force of Bucks weight coming at him knocked him back. Buck kissed along his temple, then cheek, then finally his lips. Tommy hummed into it, never tiring of the physical feel of Bucks feelings for him.

"I love you too." He mumbled against Tommy's lips before kissing him again.

[thewulf]

Honeybee || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: hi! Can you write a hotch x reader one shot based on the episode where Hayley’s dad says he still hates Hotch for Hayley’s death in s10 and obviously his words hurt Hotch and hotch then is like obviously really sad and hurt and pulls away from reader unintentionally which starts a argument but with fluff at the end? Like angst / fluff

A/N: Okay this def turned more into a comfort/fluff rather than super angsty/fluff... hope you still like it anon :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.1k +

Your phone buzzed on the desk that you were working away at. Not thinking much of it you turned it over seeing Aaron’s name flashing on the screen. Heart sinking down your chest you knew it was never a good thing when he called during the middle of a workday. Was it Jack? Was he hurt? Was it Jessica? Does she need some time away from the whole situation? Before you could spiral any further you answered nervously, “Aaron…” Trailing off you didn’t know what to say. You knew what you were getting into when you happily agreed to be his girlfriend six months ago. But these calls still made you nervous.

“Honey… slight change of plans.” You knew he was supposed to be on a flight to Maryland right now working on the next case. He was definitely not supposed to be on the phone with you in what sounded to be like his vehicle.

“Everything alright?” Hesitating to even ask the question you could hear the tension in his voice.

He paused. Everything was certainly not alright, “It’s Roy. Haley’s father. He’s in the hospital. He was arrested for trying to break and enter into a store this morning. Doctors think it’s Alzheimer’s. Jessica needs some help.” He alluded to why he wasn’t on the teams jet to Maryland.

Your heart absolutely broke for the man you’d slowly fallen in love with. He’d been through so much in the last few years and now this? It’s like life was out to get him and couldn’t be stopped, “Oh, my love, I’m so sorry.” Work didn’t seem so important anymore, “Can I help at all?”

He smiled softly hearing your concern through the phone. He just knew by the tone of your voice how much you cared. You cared about everything that related to him. You always understood too. He had to cancel on countless plans on you due to work or something coming up with Jack. You always handled it in grace. He thought you were far too patient with him. And it scared him a little much. What happens when your patience runs out? Would he fuck it up with you? He hadn’t a clue how he managed to convince you to not only go out with him but stay through the shit-show that his life was unfolding out to be.

Aaron never expected for his personal life to explode in his face the way it did so dramatically. He had let the one thing he promised never to happen, happen. His work life bled into his personal one. He’d lost the mother to his son. A woman he once loved so dearly to somebody who had it out for him. It took years of counseling and therapy for Aaron to see it as anything but his fault. Then you came along. Sweeping him right off his feet. He didn’t think he was ready for a relationship, but he decided to try. Especially when he saw the look on your face when he agreed to that first date. Of course, you made the first move, it was so you.

He hated asking you for help, but he needed it desperately. He always used you as an absolute last resort. Never wanting you to feel obligated to his life’s mess, “Can you grab Jack from school? I left the car seat in the house for Jess but she’s going to be busy. I’m going to stay back and help. Team is heading off to Maryland right now.” You heard him sigh through the phone.

“You got it.” You knew the situation was tense, but you couldn’t stop the smile that now crossed your face. It was a big step getting him to accept your help. He often went out of his way to not ask you for help. He didn’t want to burden you, “Jack and I will have the best afternoon.” You said trying your best to reassure him.

“Thank you honey. I’m so sorry. I really am.” Not wanting him to spiral you decided to interrupt him.

“Don’t apologize Aaron. It’s something out of your control. I’m more than happy to help. Please don’t stress yourself out about it. Your team will handle the case in Maryland, I’ll handle Jack. You and Jess help out Roy. Okay?” Knowing you needed to lay out the plan plain and simple for him you were met with silence this time.

“Sound okay Aaron?” You asked again hoping he wasn’t too far lost in his head.

“Yeah, alright. Thank you.”

“You got it. Call me later alright? When you get the chance.”

He nodded his head knowing you couldn’t see him. He knew he needed to give in and let you help but it was hard for him. He was so used to doing everything his way. But for his sanity and Jack’s he knew he had to let you all the way in. Had to, “Sounds good bee. I love you.”

You smiled at the nickname he had given you. He’d initially just called you honey which then morphed into honeybee. That was then shorted to just bee. His bee. His favorite one. You found it adorable, no other man had been so sweet to you like he had been.

“Love you handsome. Talk to you soon.” You clicked the phone off before the inevitable back and forth. Looking at the clock you cursed a little knowing Jack’s school was 45 minutes away and he was out in about an hour. Saying a quick goodbye to your coworkers you slid out of the office an hour too early. You decided to risk it knowing the bosses wouldn’t even likely notice.

Standing outside your car you stood on your tip toes trying to spot the little Hotchner. Knowing he’d be looking for Jess and not you. Waving to him as soon as you saw him he shot you the sweetest little smile and wave before running up to you, “Y/N! You’re here!” He pulled on your shirt in excitement.

Leaning down you gave him a squeeze, “I am buddy! Your Aunt Jess had something come up, so she asked me to come get you. Hope that’s okay.” You grinned down at the overexcited little boy. You and Jack got along so well so quick. He was the happiest little kid for everything he’s had to go through in his short life.

“Yeah!” He hugged your side squeezing tight, “I’m so excited!”

He immediately released the tension you had been holding onto all day. You’d texted Aaron a few times with no response. Worry quickly consumed you by hour three of not hearing back from him. Thankfully Jack was the perfect distraction from your worrying mind, “Hey Jack? What do you say we go home. Get you changed and head to the park. Maybe get some ice cream after?” You asked him as you buckled him into the car seat.

“Are you serious?” His eye grew wide with excitement, “Can I bring my dinosaurs?”

The grin turned into a full out smile feeling his excitement through your body, “You can absolutely bring your dinosaurs to the park little J.”

“Daddy never lets me!” He started laughing knowing he caught you in a catch 22. You’d already told him he could bring them knowing it wasn’t usually allowed.

Shaking your head, you shut the door before climbing into the driver’s seat, “Well, let’s not tell daddy then.” Hearing his snicker in the back seat sent you into a fit of laughter. Who knew one so little could make you feel so much better just through the joy he brought? That was Jack Hotchner. The little light that kept shining.

“Okay!” He clapped his hands together knowing the two of you now had a secret. You knew it wasn’t a great thing for him to pick up on but what was a little white lie? That’s life.

The two of you chatted the entire way home from school and to the park. You’d learned his best friend, Dylan, had a crush on a girl that Jack thought was gross. You tried convincing him that girls weren’t gross, but he wasn’t having any of that.

Jack was too smart for his own good. He told you about how he watched the other kids and always knew what they were going to do before they seemed to know. That was all Aaron shining right through his baby. It amazed you how quickly children picked up on their environment. Jack was no exception, the sponge that he was.

Lucky for you, all the running around with dinosaur’s tired the poor kid right on out. After making him some mac and cheese for dinner he fell asleep right on your lap while watching cartoons. It all felt so right. A domestic life you craved. To be running your hands through his hair as he held on to you fast asleep.

You were woken up by the soft click of the front door. The daylight had completely vanished. Aaron turned on the kitchen lights not expecting to see you and Jack cuddling on the couch just a room away. For as awful as the day had turned out to be the sight before him made him realize it would be okay. He had the right people in his life. He had you.

His sour mood from the shitty day immediately vanishing seeing your sleepy face waking up. Your arms were holding Jack tightly as you contorted making sure he was comfortable. He noticed that. You were always making sure that Jack was okay. You always checked in on him making sure to show that his opinions mattered. He genuinely mattered to you. Just one of the things that made Aaron fall so easily in love with you.

“Hey, you’re home.” You wiped the sleep away from your eyes careful not to wake Jack up. Peeking at the clock you saw it was nearing midnight.

“I’m sorry…” He whispered walking over to the both of you quietly. You shook your head quickly placing your finger over your mouth, “Shh, no apologies needed.” Carefully you shimmied yourself out from underneath Jack. Scooping him up in your arms you went to go put him to bed. Aaron watched in awe as you took control of the situation so effortlessly. Following behind closely he wanted to make sure to tuck his son in as well. While Jack might not have remembered it Aaron cherished every night he was able to spend at home with him sleeping a few rooms away. Even if it was for just a few hours.

You watched as Aaron leaned down whispering a few words to his sleeping boy. He kissed his head softly before pulling the comforter up over top of him. You fell in love with him even further watching the tenderness of the situation before you. Sure, Aaron had his flaws. But so did you. And everyone. Everything else about him made up for the flaws.

Shutting the door behind him you followed Aaron back downstairs, “Everything alright?” You asked moving towards him. Thankfully he didn’t shy away from your touch. Sometimes after more stressful cases he just couldn’t be touched by you. It was all too much for him. You understood, it just hurt sometimes. When all you wanted was to snuggle up to him when he needed space. You caressed his arm through his suit jacket hoping he could feel it through the thick suit.

He opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it. Thinking. The man was always thinking. Overthinking all too often, “No. Not really.” He admitted.

You felt your heart racing. He was confiding in you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t before, but it was a rarity when he did. You’d find him bottling up and shoving his emotions to the side. But he needed you right now, “What happened handsome?” You pressed a little further unsure if he wanted to tell.

He smiled before gently kissing your forehead, “He’s got Alzheimer’s, clearly. Very clearly” He paused before pulling you into his chest.

As much as you loved the feeling you knew that wasn’t it, “That all?” You asked pulling your head out of the embrace.

He shook his, “No.”

You let him just hold you before pressing him further. You knew he would spill in due time, if he wanted to. Never wanting to pressure him you always asked though, “Care to share?”

He took a long breathe in and a steady one out before pulling you over the couch you and Jack were occupying moments before. Pulling you down into his lap you let him sit there and hold you. It wasn’t that often that he was here, present, and fully there. These were moments you prayed would happen more often but never seemed to come around enough. So, you cherished them. Even when they were tenser moments like these.

He sighed knowing he needed to tell you. He had to get it off his chest or he’d keep thinking about it over and over again. Ruminate for no reason, “He kept blaming me for her death.” You knew immediately what he was referring to. Pulling him closer you started running your hands through his hair, just like you had Jack earlier on in the night, “He just… wouldn’t stop. Kept going on about it. How he’d never forget. Even with the damn disease.” You looked at his expressive face as he laid it on you, everything that Roy had laid on him through the afternoon.

“Hon, you know that’s not true right?” You asked quietly continuing to play with his hair. You knew it was a weakness for the man. For both the Hotchner boys you found out quickly and used it against them as often as you could. You just hoped it was helping him, even if it was just a little.

He nodded quickly, “I know. Trust me, I know. It just, he messed with my head.” He didn’t care to elaborate so you simply snuggled in closer to him. Breathing him in. It didn’t matter that he spent his morning in a hospital and the afternoon in somebody else’s home, he still smelled like Aaron. He became your home. Your safe space.

After a few moments of silence, you squeezed his side, “You’re one of the best people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. I get that I didn’t know you back then, but I do know that you were the same. I know how fucking hard you tried to save her. I know how unfair it’s been on you. I love you beyond words Aaron. I just hope you love yourself just a little. You give so much for everyone else. Give a little bit back to yourself too sometimes.”

He listened to your every word before responding. Nodding his head at you, “I’ll try to. I know I’m not the best at it, but I’ll try to.”

“Yeah?” You pulled away from his chest smiling at him.

He nodded giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’m not perfect. I’ll never be. So, you’ll have to call me out when I run back into old habits. But I’ll try. For you. For Jack.”

“Okay.” You grinned giving him a long kiss this time. Getting a little tired of the short kisses that seemed to miss your lips, “By the way, I think your nearly perfect. If that means anything.” You grinned brushing your fingers down the side of his face.

“Honey, that means the world to me.” He returned the favor by gently cradling your face in his hands before kissing you much more deeply this time, “I love you.”

“And I love you.” You grinned in confirmation.

“Let’s get going to bed. Jack will wake us up in a few hours wanting pancakes or something.” Aaron looked at the time getting closer to on in the morning.

You grinned letting him pull you up right out of the spot you’d been occupying on his lap, “Jack’s worth losing sleep over though. I’ll happily make pancakes with him at six in the morning.”

Aaron laughed before setting you down on the ground, “You say that before he tries waking you up then. I take it you two had a good night?”

You nodded in confirmation, “True.” You laughed a little before continuing, “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it in the morning though.”

He grabbed your hand holding it tight, “In the morning then.”

You yawned nodding your head while leaning into his chest not really caring how clingy you were being. All you wanted was him.

Feeling his laugh, you smiled to yourself. At least you were able to make him smile. You were never the best with words so being able to make him laugh it off or smile in your presence was always a win in your book.

“Let’s get to bed before you fall asleep standing up.” You couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but you just knew he was smirking at you.

“Sure thing.” You didn’t make any effort to move only leaning further into him.

“Alright.” He scooped you right on up in your arms, “I get the hint stubborn ass.” He held you tight not even the slightest bit mad you wanted him to carry you up to sleep. He adored moments like these.

“That’s why they pay you the big bucks boss man.” Sleepily you grinned to yourself knowing you had him there. He was literally paid to observe and predict.

Gently, he laid you down on the bed pulling you into his side ignoring that comment, “Y/N?” He asked seeing if you were still coherent before continuing.

“Yeah?” You answered him still there.

“Thank you for everything today. And in general. I don’t thank you enough.” He gently rubbing a thumb over your hip knowing that was one of your many weaknesses. Truth be told almost anything Aaron did was a weakness for you.

“Of course. That’s what partners do. They help each other when they need it. I love you Aaron Hotchner. Every little bit of you.” Your eyes fluttered closed as he kept brushing his hand over your side. Soothing you right to sleep.

“I love every bit of you too honeybee.” He kissed the back of your head drifting off to sleep right behind you. For as odd as the relationship was with him sometimes you’d never change it. Not in a million years. Especially as you were snuggled up to him in a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @genius2050 @simp4f1 @buckybarnessweetheart

[irkimatsu]

I love your Husk works! Could you please write one where fem!reader gets along with everyone and Husk doesn't even realize that he's catching feelings, but maybe on a night out with everyone, someone comes up and starts heavily flirting with her. Ends with confessions and sugary sweet tooth rotting fluff please. 😍

God damn, anon, do you have any idea how hard it is to wring a confession out of this man? I was going along at a steady pace and then I got stuck for hours! I genuinely hope you like slowburn, because Husk doesn't go from zero-to-love easily. I think he's gotten a nice start here, though. It's definitely fluffy!

Husk/Fem!Reader starting a relationship. Mentions of drinking and attempted sexual assault that Husk interrupts before things get too heavy. SFW, 2.8k words. Enjoy! I hope this is what you had in mind, anon! Thank you so much for reading my works!

Your first few months staying at the Hazbin Hotel have gone quite smoothly; as smoothly as anything there can ever go, anyway. Charlie took an instant liking to you - she takes an instant liking to everyone, so it’s nothing special, but still. She can be a bit overbearing, but you know she means well, and she’s grateful to have someone who doesn’t immediately write off her trust exercises from the start.

Still, after all the sharing circles and art therapy, you occasionally find yourself craving more “adult” fun, and that’s where Angel and Cherri come in. It’s not that you don’t want to be redeemed, but what could be so sinful about enjoying yourself a little? You’re not doing anything dangerous or drastic, no drugs and no getting involved with the wrong people; you’re just having fun drinking, dancing, maybe smashing up some abandoned property if the opportunity strikes. Charlie can’t get mad at destruction if no one cares about the thing you just blew up, right?

The bartender, Husk, isn’t nearly as keen on those nights on the town, but you’ve still managed to bond with him on nights where you prefer to stay in. He’s a surprisingly good listener underneath his gruff exterior. (Perhaps too good of a listener; you hope he keeps ignoring whatever bullshit you might have spouted off after one too many of his cocktails.) He also has plenty of stories of his own, mostly from the time he spent alive. When you could get him talking, he’d weave incredible tales of nightlife, both from his home city in Las Vegas and all the other places he’d visited in his life. He seemed especially wistful when talking about a woman he knew back then. He could talk for hours about all the famous sites he was able to take her to, all the songs he would sing for her, and all the starry skies he’d dance with her under.

“It’s not like I blame her for leaving. I’m the one who screwed it up. But being in love… it was nice while it lasted.”

You try to encourage him with the hope that he could fall in love again, but he shakes his head with a bitter smile.

“I lost the ability to love years ago.”

—-

Your friendship with Angel and Cherri is so different compared to your friendship with Husk, so it took a few months before you could have a night out with all three of them. Charlie is once again less enthused about the idea of you four going out to party, but you promise to be relatively well behaved.

You promise, anyway. You can’t make promises for Angel’s sake, and as much as you love her, you know better than to have any faith in Cherri.

You’re surprised Husk agreed to come to a sex club at all. He never seemed like the type to be into that sort of thing. You’re less surprised to see that he has no intention of flirting with anyone and is instead perfectly happy to sit by the wall and knock back shots as quickly as the bartender can pour them.

Couldn’t he drink himself stupid back at the hotel, though? Why did he even come?

Is it just you, or has he been watching you the whole night?

The hours tick by, and you, Angel, and Cherri become progressively more wasted. Angel is currently hanging off of a muscular bull demon - damn, good for him - while Cherri tells you about another resident who used to stay at the hotel before he tragically lost his life during the last extermination.

“He was such a fucking idiot that it was charming, ya know? God damn I should have gotten to know him better when he was still around! I heard this rumor about him and never even got to find out if it was true!”

As she speaks, Cherri catches sight of a cobra demon who is currently chatting up a cluster of punk girls.

“Well, damn… maybe I’ll get to find out tonight. Don’t wait around for me, I’ll find my way back!”

With that announcement, Cherri is gone, leaving only you and Husk with about a dozen bar stools between you. He’s definitely keeping an eye on you; there’s still liquid in his glass, and  he’s watching you instead of guzzling it.

What’s his deal? If he wants to spend the night with you, why doesn’t he just come over here? You decide not to go over there yourself; no sense in rewarding him if he’s playing mind games.

You instead turn your attention to a handsome wolf demon who has taken Cherri’s seat. “Drinking all alone, love?” he says, his deep voice smooth as butter. Right away this man gives you the air of a natural-born charmer who can win anyone’s trust within seconds, only to break their hearts within hours.

He’s hot, and you’re drunk. You’ll let him break your heart a little.

Your conversation starts normally enough, with low stakes topics like the music and the drink selection in the bar. You’re in no hurry to tell this man anything personal or leave this spot with him, but you’re enjoying looking at him and hearing him enough that you don’t mind being a bit of entertainment.

He bumps your knee with his at one point, but you pull your own knee away. At first he seems to take the hint, and time passes without any more advances.

Soon, however, he grows more bold.

“Why don’t we go somewhere else, baby?” he asks as he lightly squeezes your thigh. “Somewhere more private?”

“No thanks,” you say as you jerk your leg away, though the motion doesn’t make him let go. “I’m fine talking here.”

“You know this is a sex club, don’t you?” he says. His smile and voice haven’t changed, but somehow he seems much slimier than he did five minutes ago, and the strong paw gripping your leg that seemed so enticing in your head feels suffocating in reality.

“I’m not here for that, I’m just hanging out with friends-” You try to leave the stool, but the man throws his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in.

“Come on, babe! What did you think I was after by chatting you up like this? You’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?” He’s holding you closely enough that his hot breath is hitting your face, and the stench of his cologne is making you gag. “C’mon, baby, I’ll show you a good time. You won’t regret this-”

“She said no.” Husk had somehow snuck his way to your side without you noticing, and was now glaring daggers at your pursuer. “Back off.”

“Who are you, her grandpa?” the wolf laughs, refusing to unhand you. “Or just a nasty old man who likes ‘em young?”

Your captor’s laughter is quickly interrupted by a high-pitched howl. His face is now adorned with four jagged, bleeding lines.

“What the fuck, old man?” he yells as he unhands you. Just as quickly as you’re unhanded, you’re grabbed again, this time by Husk grabbing your waist and pulling you away.

“I knew I fucking hated this place,” he growls. “Where are Cherri and Angel?”

You have no idea, but your first guess has you looking toward the sex rooms in the back of the club.

“Jesus Christ… they’ll find their own way home. Come on, we’re going back to the hotel.”

You don’t appreciate being dragged out of the club like a misbehaving child, but as the alcohol clouds your thinking, you can’t quite formulate a protest.

Considering how pissed off your admirer must be right now, maybe it’s for the best that you don’t stay.

—

The walk back to the hotel is blurry; if Husk had anything to say to you besides pissed off obscenities muttered beneath his breath, you don’t remember it. Your next memory finds you laying on the couch in the lobby, your head aching from a combination of a hangover and the time spent laying on the couch’s arm with your neck at a weird angle.

“What time is it…?” you murmur as your eyes try to adjust.

“About noon,” answers Husk from the bar. 

As you continue to look around the lobby, he appears to be the only one here. “Where is everyone?” you ask through a yawn.

“Angel and Cherri still aren’t back, but I’m sure they’re fine. Charlie and Vaggie left to give you some quiet. Alastor and Niffty…” Husk shrugs after their names, then falls silent.

You groan as you push yourself into a sitting position, one that has you facing Husk. He doesn’t appear to have anything to do, and is instead standing with his chin resting on his crossed arms atop the bar. An awkward silence falls between the two of you, giving you plenty of time to observe Husk’s body language, particularly the way his tail is lashing behind him while his ear gives the occasional twitch.

He is not in a good mood.

“Are you okay?” you ask. Your well-meaning question only seems to piss him off further; he answers not with a word, but with a growl. “Is this about last night?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists.

“I’m sorry I caused you trouble…”

“Wasn’t your fault.” His tail lashes even harder. “Just don’t worry about it, all right?”

You’re going to keep worrying about it until he stops looking so on edge.

“Thanks for getting me away from that guy last night,” you say, just in case you didn’t thank him in your drunken haze.

“Hey, it’s what a good bartender does. When you see someone starting shit with another patron, even if it’s not your bar, you take care of the problem. That fucker had no right to put his hands on you after you told him to cut it out.”

He may be gruff, but at least he has standards.

“Can’t believe Cherri and Angel left you alone in there… those two better not take you to anymore fucking sex clubs, you don’t need to be around shit like that…”

“I’m a grown adult,” you protest. “I didn’t want to sleep with that guy, but if I did want to get with someone at that club, that’s my business.”

Husk’s eyes widen for a moment, before he returns to his original dour expression. “Yeah… guess you’re right.”

“And what about you? You didn’t look interested in picking up anyone last night. Why’d you even come?”

“How do you know I wasn’t interested?” he shoots back. “Maybe I was interested in someone! Maybe I just… didn’t have the balls to go for it.” He stands up straight and shakes his head. “Look, can we drop this? Hang out in sex clubs if you want, I don’t fuckin’ care.”

He’s speaking with the tone of voice of someone who very much cares.

“I’m done with ‘em, though. You’re right, you’re an adult, you don’t need me hanging around like some fuckin’ guardian angel.” He pours a glass of clear liquid, and you expect him to down it himself, but he instead steps out from behind the bar still holding the full glass. “I overreacted last night. Shouldn’t have made it your fuckin’ problem.” He approaches the couch, takes a seat, and offers you the glass. “Here, one last favor. Drink this and I’ll get off your ass.”

You take the cup, wondering if for some ungodly reason he’s trying to get you to down straight vodka.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s water. That headache’s only gonna get worse if you’re dehydrated.”

You take a sip of the water, and after only a few swallows you’re already regaining a bit of your desire to live. “Thanks,” you say before taking another large gulp.

“No problem,” he responds. You expect him to return to the bar, but he remains next to you on the couch. His body language has gotten no less agitated. What is going on with him?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you doting on Angel or Cherri like this,” you observe before finishing the glass.

“They’re used to it, and they’ve got each other,” he says as he takes the glass from you. “You want some more?”

You shake your head, and he remains seated with the glass.

“You, though… I don’t know, something about that guy just pissed me off,” he says. “Even before he started touching you I didn’t like him. Bartender’s intuition, maybe? I’m still not over the awful feeling he gave me.” He sighs heavily. “I just… hate the idea of seeing you get hurt in a place like that. I know Angel and Cherri can take care of themselves, but you’ve never seemed as wild as they do, so I wasn’t sure…”

“Is that why you were watching me the whole night?” you asked.

Husk’s body jolts. “Shit, you noticed?”

“I kept looking over there wondering if you’d ever move from that spot, and if you weren’t actively drinking you were staring at me,” you said. “You weren’t subtle.”

Husk groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I know you’re capable. I was just…”

“You weren’t there because you were interested in someone at all, were you?”

“I never said I wasn’t. I mean it when I said I just didn’t have the balls to say anything to ‘em. Instead, I just wondered… what I’d do if someone else asked ‘em. Knowing it’d be my own damn fault for not speaking up sooner. Trying to tell myself it wasn’t that big a deal if they went with someone else… until someone started flirting with ‘em, and touchin’ ‘em, and-” His body tenses as he growls, but relaxes after a moment. “Damn it, I haven’t had to do this in years...”

“Done what?”

“You know what I said about losing my ability to love years ago?” He turns his head and looks directly at you for the first time since he sat down. “...I think I’m remembering how to do it again.”

Things are starting to fall into place. “And the person who helped you remember is…?”

The slightest of smiles crosses his face. “Who do you think?”

You wouldn’t have guessed it before today, but it all seems so obvious in retrospect. He’d spent so many nights with you when he could have been in bed, just chatting with you or comforting you after a bad day. You’d really grown so fond of his smile, and Angel had told you before that he used to never smile.

But surely, you thought, he couldn’t have been smiling because of you…

“What am I even saying?” he asks as he turns away from you. “You died in the prime of your life, and down here you can have that prime forever. You could do so much better than a washed up old drunk.”

“You’re not washed up,” you assure him as you place your hand over his. “I think it’s great that you got to live such a full life! You have so many stories to tell, and so many talents… I bet there’s so much you haven’t told me yet.” You try to reassure him with a smile and a light squeeze to his hand. “So much you haven’t shown me, either. You talk a lot about when you were in a band, but I’ve never gotten to hear you play…”

“I haven’t touched an instrument in years,” he says. “I bet I don’t even remember how to play anymore.”

“Well, you don’t know if you don’t try, right?”

You don’t think you’re just saying that about instruments.

“It’s been such a long time… what if I screw up?”

You don’t think he’s just talking about instruments either.

“It can’t hurt to try. Maybe… maybe you’ll enjoy it even more than you remember.”

“Hmm…” He doesn’t seem fully at ease, but he hasn’t taken his hand back yet. “If I can get my hands on a saxophone, and I really haven’t forgotten how… sure. I’ll play for you.

…you just have to give me some time, okay? I’m not used to it anymore… especially with another person…”

“Take all the time you need,” you assure him.

He turns his hand around so he can hold yours back, and his smile seems to grow slightly. “Just gotta start slow… get used to things again…”

“You’ll be fine, I know you will,” you assure him. He seems content to leave the conversation there, but there’s one more thing you need to say. “Husk?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’ll be going back to that club. No point when I’m not interested in picking up dates anymore.”

He squeezes your hand. “Glad to hear it.”

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 20

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks had passed since the disastrous dream session, and it felt like everything had subtly shifted from where it had been before that night.

Kara still seemed entirely unphased by her experience – was thriving, if anything. Now she had successfully negotiated better contract terms at Catco and come to a compromise with Andrea about the sort of stories she would be writing she seemed happier at work, and had even managed to wangle a corporate discount membership at the climbing centre so she could go regularly. More troublingly she had also almost immediately thrown herself into some project that she was being unusually cagey about, but Kara had assured her it was nothing to worry about, and she was acting normally enough as long as the conversation stayed on other subjects. Lena was trying her best to trust her and not dwell on the mystery, no matter how tempting it might be to do a little digging.

Beyond that there were still the regular Project Atlantis meetings as always, but although none of them said it outright, they were all aware that progress had stalled. Now they knew exactly what it was keeping Kara from her Supergirl memories, they also knew that they couldn’t just break it down, and so far the best idea they had come up with to armour Kara against the trauma of it was… therapy.

It was a long way from being the silver bullet they needed.

However, after the latest uninspired and frustrating Atlantis meeting, something else had changed. Lena had offered Alex a lift home, as she often did since they lived in the same direction, and Alex had accepted. They had been sitting in the back seat watching the city go by outside the windows, same as always, and then Alex had come out with it.

‘So. I have this idea.’

‘For Project Atlantis?’

‘No, no, not that. It’s just something I hoped you might be up for trying with me...’

Alex shuffled a bit in her seat, and for a moment she looked so much like Kara when she had been about to suggest rock climbing that Lena narrowed her eyes, suspicious.

‘I swear to god Alex, if you’re about to ask me to go skydiving-’

Alex snorted.

‘HAH, no. I do kind of wish I’d thought of that just to see your face when I suggested it, but no. I was actually going to ask if, maybe, you wanted to come with me to a gay bar some time.’

Lena’s eyebrows shot up.

This was new.

She and Alex had spent time together outside Project Atlantis meetings, sure, but it had always been a continuation of them, or at least started out with some kind of pretext of a work thing before they had settled into just hanging out. This was the first time either of them had suggested something purely social, let alone a gay bar.

‘Really? How come? It’s not our usual sort of meet up place.’

‘Exactly. I’ve never actually been to one before, and I don’t know, you might you go all the time, but I thought maybe it would be similar for you, and we could try it out together.’

Alex was… not wrong. Lena had been to a few exclusive VIP only queer events over the years, but an ordinary gay bar in her home city? Never. There had always been the risk that she might be recognised and end up all over the tabloids of course, but it wasn’t just that. She’d never had anyone to go with. Not until now.

‘Wouldn’t you rather go with Kelly?’

‘I mean, yeah, I’d really like us to go together eventually, but… well, when I got together with Maggie so much of the dynamic was her as the worldly wise one, and me as the newly hatched little baby lesbian who had never been with a woman or had any of these experiences. And even though Kelly never makes me feel that way, I kind of want this to be something I do for the first time just as myself, not as part of a couple. So I thought it could be a good friend thing. With you.’

A friend thing.

Alex wanted to discover her community with a friend, and she was asking Lena. Not Kara. Not Nia. Not any of the other friends she had uncomplicated histories with and who would gladly have tagged along with her.

She wanted Lena.

‘I would love to go to a gay bar with you Alex.’

Alex beamed, and the change in the set of her shoulders made Lena realise that she had been nervous about asking. This really mattered to her.

‘Awesome! So I have been looking into options and narrowed it down to three. There’s ‘Velvet’ which is the big one in the city centre that seems like a nice place, but it’s pretty high profile so I thought you might not be comfortable with the visibility – I don’t want you to end up as a story in some gossip magazine because of me.’

Lena nodded, appreciating the consideration. She was not afraid to be out, but she would rather control the narrative around any public announcement, and do it in her own time. Ideally when her life was less complicated than it was right now.

‘Then there’s ‘Liquor Lips’, which is the most private seeming, buuut also looks kind of skeevy. It’s not quite a strip joint, but they have some ‘exotic dance’ nights and a generally more X rated feel, and uh.. I’m not sure the whole thing is quite the vibe I’m looking for.’

‘Agreed, that is not the kind of night I was imagining.’

‘No, so this last one is my favourite – it’s called ‘Violet’s’. It’s a bit more open than Liquor Lips but also kind of far out of town, which I thought might be a good thing for you, and it has more of a community feel. It’s on the smaller side, but it looks friendly, and they have a pretty decent cocktail menu.’

Cocktails and community. Lena could work with that.

‘Violet’s it is.’

They had agreed a date and time, and that was that. They were officially the sort of friends who did things together outside of a work context. It felt a bit strange, but not bad strange. New, and unexpected, and… nice.

Violet’s turned out to be an unassuming building with a small sign hanging above the door and a rainbow sticker on one window. From the outside it didn’t look like much, and certainly wouldn’t raise many eyebrows if anyone saw Lena Luthor going in, at least not unless you knew what the place was.

Inside was a different story entirely.

Beyond the entryway it opened up into a surprisingly spacious room, decked out with purple fluorescents over the bar and string lights criss crossing the dark blue ceiling to give the impression of a starry night, though it was almost lost behind the yards and yards of rainbow bunting that had been strung overhead, and the flags of just about every queer identity one could hope to name hanging from the walls. The whole impression was utterly chaotic and much too busy to be considered entirely good taste, but Alex was right, it felt friendly.

Alex herself was hovering in the doorway, staring round from the flags, to the bunting, to the people gathered around tables. Drinking, laughing, playing darts, holding hands, kissing.

When several more seconds passed and she still didn’t move, Lena gave her a little elbow nudge.

‘You doing okay there Danvers?’

‘Huh?’

Lena raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, sorry. I just realised, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a room with this many other gay people before. It’s kind of blowing my mind.’

She knew what Alex meant. It was different for her of course – she had been in plenty of rooms with at least this many other queer people, but not like this. Those had all been highly curated events with carefully chosen guest lists of the rich and powerful, all of whom knew exactly who Lena was. It had meant that no matter how much she might enjoy herself, she always had to be aware of the impression she was giving, just in case any of it came back to bite her later.

But here there was none of that. This was just a bar that she happened to have walked into with a friend. They didn’t have to be The Lena Luthor and Director Alex Danvers here, and the one or two people who had glanced up when they came in had gone back to their own conversations, clearly seeing nothing noteworthy in their arrival. Right now Lena was just one more woman who loved women in a crowd of others just like her. It made her feel unremarkable. Mundane even.

She was going to like it here.

Once they had their drinks they settled at a table that was slightly out of the thick of things, but not so far back that they felt hidden away. For a little while they sipped in silence, just soaking it all in and allowing themselves to fully experience what it was like to be in the majority. Alex particularly still seemed very slightly in shock, though she was clearly trying not to stare too obviously at anyone in particular.

After a few minutes she let out a long breath and swore softly.

‘I didn’t realise. I fell in love with a woman and I came out to my family and I thought that was it, I never realised how much more there was. I’m not just a woman who happens to love other women. I am a lesbian, and that means I get to be part of something bigger than my own relationships. I feel like I missed out on so much by not working it out sooner.’

‘It’s not too late. Everyone starts the journey at their own pace, and you have plenty of time for yours. Maybe when things have settled back down and Kara... well, maybe one day we could all go to a pride parade together.��

‘Yeah… I’d like that. How come we never talked about this stuff before? It feels like kind of a waste.’

Lena shrugged.

‘We weren’t those sorts of friends. We were both more focused on Kara…’

They still were of course. Kara was their centre and the purpose for their coming together in the first place, but now Lena and Alex had formed a bond that was separate to their relationship with her. And maybe, whatever happened between Lena and Kara once Kara had her Supergirl memories back, even if they found they couldn’t work through the lies and hurt on both sides and decided not to stay friends, maybe this friendship with Alex would be something she would be able to keep this time.

‘I guess so. It’s weird though, I’ve known you for years and I don’t even know anything about what all this is like for you. I mean… have you dated women before? When did you figure out that you were bi?’

‘Boarding school. I was 15, and I realised I had the biggest crush on Andrea Rojas.’

‘Andrea- wait, that Andrea Rojas? Kara’s boss? Kara’s boss that she hates?’

‘The same. She’s more fun if she’s not your boss.’

Though it could be fun when Andrea got bossy too, in the right context.

‘Wow okay. So you two were a couple?’

Lena tilted her hand back and forth in a measuring gesture.

‘I wouldn’t say we were a couple, exactly. We were best friends, and there was definitely… tension. Then one night we snuck down to the common room in the middle of the night – no one else around, just us in the dark with a bottle of scotch Andrea had managed to smuggle in. We drank a bit of it, but just a few sips each, we hadn’t really acquired a taste for it yet, and then we talked – or more accurately, we flirted, though not in a very intentional way. Andrea was playing with the bottle, just for something to do with her hands at first, but watching it turning round and round, I think we both had the idea at the same time. She picked it up very deliberately and put it down between us, then kept eye contact while she set it spinning. We both stared at it so intensely, it was like our entire future depended on whether it stopped pointing at me or not.’

‘And did it?’

Lena laughed.

‘Not even close. But I kissed her anyway.’

‘Wow. That’s a bold move, I can’t imagine having that much confidence at 15.’

‘Well, you have to remember we were raised in families who expected to get what they wanted, and we had been dancing around it for months by that point. I think on some level we both knew it was just a matter of time. Anyway, that night kind of opened the floodgates, and we had a lot more secret make out sessions, and then eventually more than that… but it always felt more like a friends with benefits set up than an actual committed relationship. After a while she started dating someone else and so we stopped our trysts, and then I did too. We would still get together sometimes after we left school, if we were both in the same city and neither of us happened to be dating anyone else at the time, but it was always casual.’

‘And... do you still? Now she’s in National City?’

‘No. We had a… falling out. We’re back on reasonable terms now, but it’s not like it used to be. I couldn’t trust her the same way after that.’

There was a silence following this statement, filled with their shared knowledge of Lena’s more recent ‘falling out’ with someone she had romantic feelings for, and the unspoken implications about trust brought up by the parallels of the two situations.

But Kara and Andrea could hardly be more different, and Lena had never felt about Andrea the way she did for Kara…

Did that make their future prospects better, or worse?

She wasn’t sure, and she couldn’t stand the heaviness that now seemed to be pressing down on their evening of queer discovery, so she shook it off, and tried to get the conversation back on track.

‘How about you? What was your gay awakening like?’

‘ Oh, well, the big thing was meeting Maggie, obviously. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot since, and realising there were so many things that I missed at the time that make so much more sense now. Like how weird and complicated my feelings got about sleeping over with my best friend Vicky in high school. Or the girl in my freshman college dorm who was obsessed with Norwegian fantasy movies, and I was the only one who would watch them with her. I didn’t understand a word of what was going on, but she would always grab my hand and hold on tight whenever this one guy came on screen, and that was enough to make me keep going back. Then there was the barista I used to try to coincide my coffee shop visits with, even though she made terrible coffee. But she had blue hair and all these amazing tattoos, and she would give me this look and call me Beautiful like it was my name, and she used to slip me free muffins when her manager wasn’t looking.’

‘...And you didn’t read that as her flirting with you?’

‘Well no, not at the time. Why?’

‘No, nothing, I think I’m just seeing where Kara gets it from. It might not be quite an office full of flowers, but that girl did everything but write her number on your cup to tell you she was interested.’

‘Oh. Uh… she actually did write her number on my cup one time.’

‘WHAT?’

‘It wasn’t like that! It was just in case-’

Alex broke off, thinking back over the interaction, and shook her head.

‘Yeah, no, okay it was exactly like that. Self-denial is a hell of a drug.’

It probably wasn't nice to laugh at someone's process of coming to terms with their sexuality, but in this case Lena couldn't help it.

‘God, if we had had this conversation a year ago I would have known I needed to hire a sky writer to get through to Kara. Or just grabbed her by the lapels and stuck my tongue down her throat.’

Alex groaned and swatted her arm.

‘Lena!’

‘Oh you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s probably for the best. If you had picked up on Cute Blue Haired Barista’s flirting you might not be with Kelly now.’

The aggrieved look softened instantly into a dopey smile, like just the mention of Kelly's name was enough to make Alex happy. She looked the way Lena felt when she thought about Kara, and it made her simultaneously happy for her friend and intensely jealous of Alex’s uncomplicated romantic relationship.

‘Yeah, Kelly is pretty great. I guess it was worth waiting for my big realisation if it meant I got to end up where I am with her. I do wish I could talk more to her about what’s happening at the moment though. You know, with Project Atlantis… I mean, she knows in a general sense, but not how personal it is. I hate feeling like I’m keeping something from her.’

‘Kelly doesn’t know about Kara?’

‘No. Things between us were still pretty new when everything happened, and now… I can’t exactly ask Kara’s permission to loop her in, can I?’

‘No, but… for what it’s worth, I think you should tell her anyway. Kelly is your person, and you need to be able to share something this huge with your person. Your sister has essentially had a serious accident that’s left her with amnesia and missing half the context of your life together. That is a lot to deal with on your own on top of trying to keep everything from falling apart in Supergirl’s absence, and you need someone to talk to about it all. Kelly deserves to know what all this means to you, and I really think Kara will understand.’

Alex went quiet for a moment, prodding at a chunk of lime floating in her Caipiroska with a rainbow striped straw, and then asked ‘who do you talk to about it?’

‘What?’

‘Kara’s your person, right? And you can’t tell her how you’re feeling about any of this. I’ve never really thought about that before. I mean, she’s my person too obviously, but in a different way. And like you said, I have Kelly... But you don’t. And it must be hard for you.’

Lena looked away. Somehow she hadn’t been prepared for her comment to get turned around on her, but it was true. She had spent so much of her recent past keeping herself a step removed from everyone around her, safe and solitary, and yet now when she actually wanted to be brave and do the work to open up, she couldn’t let herself.

Honestly, it was shit.

But Lena was in a her first gay bar with an excessively pink drink in front of her and a Tegan and Sara song blasting in the background, and she had no intention of getting maudlin about her unrequitable love right now, so she fell back on an easier answer.

‘Oh, I have my own ways of relieving the stress.’

‘Such as?’

She shrugged.

‘I break things. Wine glasses, mostly. Plates. An electron microscope once, after the Q-wave trial failed. It’s cathartic.’

Alex stared at her, clearly not having been quite ready for this response. Then she snorted.

‘Has anyone ever told you that being a billionaire makes you kind of an insufferable brat? You seriously smashed a piece of equipment that costs at minimum tens of thousands of dollars because “it was cathartic”?’

‘Hey, I fixed it afterwards! I might be obnoxiously rich but I’m not stupid.’

‘You… you fixed it afterwards.’

‘What? I did! I actually added in some upgrades while I was at it, so it was a net positive really-’

Alex shook her head, looking half wondering, half exasperated.

‘Fucking hell Lena. You are by far my weirdest friend. And most of my friends are aliens. One of my friends is a blue guy from another century who is also part computer. But you still win. NONE of that is how normal people deal with their feelings.’

‘Maybe that’s just because normal people don’t have access to electron microscopes, or sufficient knowledge about their inner workings to rebuild them after they get smashed.’

‘Yeah, no that is definitely not it weirdo.’

For the most part Lena didn't appreciate being called out for being odd. It reminded her too much of a childhood spent trying so desperately to fit in with what was expected of her only to fall short again and again, the black sheep in every situation. But somehow, in this context, it didn't feel like a bad thing. She pulled the straw from her drink to point it at Alex, accidentally-on-purpose flicking a drip of pink grapefruit and gin mix in her direction as she did so.

‘Psh, jealous. Keep talking like that and I won’t invite you to come and smash things with me next time we need to vent.’

Alex let the drink splashing go without comment, straightening up from her semi-slouched pose with a suddenly hopeful look.

‘Wait no, invite me! I want to smash things!’

‘Huh, what happened to “that’s not normal”?’

‘Well, not highly delicate and expensive scientific equipment things, but I could absolutely be down for bashing the hell out of a junk yard car or something. I was always kind of jealous that Kara could work out her feelings by pounding an old car into a crushed blob with her bare fists, but I bet it would still be pretty satisfying with a sledge hammer.’

‘You wait until you try a laser.’

Alex’s eyes went wide.

‘You have lasers? Can I play with them??’

‘Sure. As long as you listen to my safety instructions before you touch anything – I don’t want you burning a hole all the way through the side of my building.’

‘Awesome. I take back everything I said, your way of dealing with emotion is totally normal and healthy and not at all bratty-rich-kid.’

‘I should think so.’

Alex hesitated, then added in a more serious tone ‘however, if you ever decide you want to try a different kind of catharsis… you can always talk to me, you know.’

‘Thanks Alex. You can talk to me too.’

‘Oh I was planning on it. But uh… Just do me a favour and don’t tell me any more about how you want to kiss my sister, okay?’

Well, saying that was basically handing Lena the advantage on a silver platter. An evil grin twitched at the corners of her mouth, and she leaned confidingly closer across the table.

‘Oh, I don’t just want to kiss your sister. I am an adult woman with adult needs, and I want to-’

‘Aaargh oh my god shutupshutupshutup you absolute GREMLIN!’

Lena licked her lips, schooling her expression into something downright lascivious as she doubled down on her baiting.

‘Have you seen her biceps? And her abs are just- mmmm.’

‘Lena Luthor I am so serious right now, if you don’t stop that this second I will tip this drink over your head and ass-plant you right off your stool. That is so gross.’

It was tempting to keep torturing her, but Lena was laughing too hard by this point to think of anything else to say. Besides, it honestly felt pretty weird for her to talk about Kara like that to anyone, let alone her own sister.

Worth it though, given how much it had made Alex squirm.

‘Okay, okay, I’m done. Consider that payback for all the cotton candy jibes.’

‘Urgh. Paid back in full and then some. And you owe me about five more drinks to help block out the memories of what you just said.’

Alex knocked the rest of her drink back, and whether her shudder was for the sudden rush of alcohol or the mental images Lena had managed to evoke was anyone’s guess.

‘Aw, poor little delicate flower. Alright, my round. They actually do a shot here called ‘Supergirl’, shall I get you one of those?’

‘ABSOLUTELY NOT.’

There were several other temptingly named shots that would have served to send Alex into further paroxysms of horror (a Slippery Nipple, a Screaming Orgasm, a Quick Fuck, and of course the classic Sex on the Beach would all have done it after the conversation they had just had), but in the end she had mercy and bought her a perfectly respectable New York Sour shot and another passion fruit Caipiroska; and when she returned to the table she allowed the conversation to move on to less contentious subjects.

She had that one in her back pocket now though, just in case she needed future retaliation material. It would not be difficult to wax lyrical about Kara’s strong shoulders and tantalising shy lip-bite if she needed to.

[farawayfroppy]

Evergreen – I am swept up in you; please don't dispose of me

part 2 ↣ part 1

izuku midoriya x reader

cw: aged up characters, pro-hero au, lots and lots of angst, some canon-typical violence and deaths, Izuku experiences triggers, panic attacks, and nightmares, Reader has a dream-altering quirk, adult language, Reader is referred to as she/her. i see a lot of myself in midoriya so i gave him the therapy that i need

~3k words

hey all! been a while. oops. i started my first year of teaching, so i have had no time to write. i wasn't even planning on posting this i til i had written more of it, but i wanted you to know that i tried lol. i know it's not much, but i hope you enjoy. - Jean xx

Just like that, Izuku found himself back at work.

He knew it was probably too soon, knew it wouldn’t look good to the press or feel like anything other than painful for himself, but he also knew he had a job to do. One of the bastards that had aided in stealing two lives, right in front of him, had gotten away and he hadn’t even known. Hell, beyond that, there was an entire crime ring that seemed to be growing, getting bolder, right under all of their noses.

As much as he didn’t want to relive any of it, to think about it even in the slightest, he knew that as the only hero on the scene that day, he was also a witness. Shouto had wanted information, and now he had it—first hand.

Once inside the doors of his agency, away and safe from the cameras and prying eyes, he made a beeline for his office. He took the stairs today, not bothering with the elevator, where he might have felt like an animal in a cage. That panicked feeling was happening again as he ascended the stairs. Up and up, around and around, it was all blurring together. When he finally reached his floor, he burst through the door, startling an intern standing near a water fountain that was placed a little too closely to the exit.

Izuku mumbled, “Sorry,” but didn’t slow his pace.

He tried not to think about the astounded looks he received from his coworkers as he flew down the hallway. He realized then that he probably should have notified someone, at least his secretary, of his return. As he neared his office, he passed by her, and she rose from her desk with a surprised expression.

“Oh, Deku, you’re back already?” She asked, trying to disguise the shock in her voice. Thinly veiled, painted over with politeness in a way he knew all too well. The customer service voice was like the landlord special of communication, skirting around and covering up the real issues.

He knew it was for his benefit. She was gentle and kind, but he couldn’t handle it. He didn’t feel like he deserved gentle. He didn’t have the capacity to accept kindness, didn’t know how to hold it while already juggling so much. But he wasn’t mean.

“Yep,” he replied, trying to muster up a smile. Tight-lipped, but passable. “Sorry about the disruption, Jane, but I’ll be pretty busy now, so don’t let anyone in. Thanks!” He rushed out before all but diving into the sanctity of his office.

“But—“ he heard her start just as he closed his door, locking it for good measure.

Izuku sighed, slumping against the door with his head down. He felt like crying. He felt small again. How could a man who had accomplished so much, who drew so many eyes, feel so minuscule unto himself? It was hard to live like this, feeling bad for feeling bad, for complaining when he had such privilege and responsibility. There was no end.

“Hey, squirt,” he heard a gruff voice say.

Startled, he shot up, being met with the sight of Bakugou standing near his desk.

“Wh—how did you know I would be here?” He stammered, floored by his friend’s presence and immediately sobered. “Also, I told you to stop calling me that, because—“

Bakugou cut him off, “It’s gross and weird, I know.” He snickered, his shit-eating grin somehow a sight for Izuku’s sore eyes at that moment. “Your mom called me,” he explained, and Izuku cursed to himself quietly.

He should have known. Mama Inko always needed a spy on the inside to make sure he wasn’t lying about being okay. Which, to her credit: he was totally lying about being okay.

“She said you were coming back here today and asked me to make sure you weren’t throwing up and pissing everywhere," he said, and Izuku raised a questioning eyebrow at that.

“My words, not hers,” Bakugou continued. “And you haven’t puked yet, which is a good sign I guess, but do I spy a little pee running down your leg?” He taunted, making his way closer to his green-haired companion to place a large, gloved hand over his face.

Izuku groaned, prying Bakugou’s hand off of him, “Why do you always have to be so gross? And do you ever wash your gloves?”

His friend scoffed in response, “Tch. Haven't you heard I smell like caramel?"

Izuku shuddered, "Caramelized onion maybe. Go take a bath."

Bakugou gave him a long, pointed look before speaking again," So you're really gonna be okay this time, eh?"

Izuku felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion, knowing his expression was probably all too readable to his friend of many years, at least if his stupid smirk was anything to go by.

"What do you mean?" he said indignantly. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You look like you're here," Bakugou started, "and you may even feel like you're here," he continued, giving Izuku just enough of a shove to make him lose his balance momentarily.

"Hey–" he started to protest, stopping when Bakugou jabbed at his forehead, right between the eyes.

"But up here, you're somewhere else. And usually, you stay there longer," he explained, pulling his hand back to cross his arms, "but you're coming back to us. I can tell 'cause you sound like an idiot again–less deranged, though–but still stupid. I'm way past hoping you'll give up on being perfect or whatever, but you're making a little more sense than you were when I came by your apartment," he said, rolling his eyes as he continued, "Ya know, before you so rudely kicked me out and left me arguing with the fuckin' door. Anyway, that's a good enough sign for me to tell your mom not to get her panties in a twist," he finished.

"Because you care so much," Izuku stressed the words, "I am fine, just like I said when you barged into my apartment before," he paused. Then, with a face of disgust and exasperation, he screeched, "And can you not talk about my mom's panties?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bakugou relented. "How 'bout that neighbor chick that lives next to ya?" he smirked. "Bet hers have little cherries on 'em. And let me tell ya, they were all tied up in knots over you."

Izuku froze, feeling his ears get hot with a blush as your face came to mind–all pinched up in concern–and he immediately stared at his shoes.

"My neighbor?" he asked in disbelief, "When did you talk to her?" He peeked up.

Bakugou grinned, knowing he had struck gold with this line of conversation, "After you locked me out of your place. She came home and saw me arguing away with your closed door–asked if you were okay."

"And?" Izuku prompted, watching as his friend shoved his hands in his pockets so nonchalantly, like he didn't just say something potentially life-ruining. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Bakugou shrugged, watching Izuku's mouth open in shock. "Didn't know you had the hots for her. Not just gonna give some creep info on you in your time of dire need."

Izuku must have visibly deflated, because he continued, "Don't implode; I wasn't mean to her. She looked all...concerned and shit, so you still got a shot."

Izuku sighed, half-relieved that he didn't scare you off and half-annoyed by his friend's tendency to be nosy.

"She's just nice, okay?" He asserted. "Not that you're ever gonna shut up about this, regardless of what I say," he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "And don't talk about her panties either," he ordered.

Bakugou mockingly put his hands up in defeat, "Got it, squirt. I'm heading out now, anyway, now that I've busted up your pity party," he gestured vaguely as he headed toward the door. "I'll tell your mom you haven't keeled over and died yet," he said finally.

He unlocked the door and started to turn the handle as Izuku went to his desk and took a seat, newly determined and ready to get to work.

Bakugou opened the door and began to step out, pausing as he said, "I'm glad you're better now. Than you were that day, I mean." He then added, without any real bite, "Won't have to pick up your slack."

And Izuku didn't know what to say. He nodded, and the other man left. Slumping in his chair, Izuku breathed deeply, not feeling as much of the weight that had been there before, but deep down, he knew that calling himself 'better' was too generous. He understood, though.

The last time he saw Bakugou was right after he had gotten home. Post-incident, post-bullet wound–could you blame him for not making sense? And he was so angry. Just so angry, like he hadn't been in a long time. His friend had come by to try to put an early end to his downward spiral, but he wouldn't listen to any of it. He couldn't. It's like his eyes and ears and, hell, his entire head had been filled with cotton. There had been one time like it in the past, a time that Bakugou had bore witness to just how much the job really affected Izuku.

A few years back, fresh out of school, they had been called on to a kidnapping case. This girl in a small town had disappeared, and people feared it might have been the work of a trafficking ring from a nearby city. They were right. The two of them managed to infiltrate the house that they had been holding the girl hostage in. They even found her.

Izuku still remembers how he had scooped her up, promising that she would be safe again. Promising that she would feel safe again. Bakugou had been fighting close by, securing their exit, a plan they had become accustomed to by then.

They both agreed that Izuku was better at the hands-on rescuing stuff, a more calming presence during a really traumatic time for the victims they saved. And Bakugou was doing what he did best, fighting with an almost reckless abandon. They were almost out, the majority of the suspects involved had been subdued either on the way in or by Bakugou's hands on the way out. But they missed one.

They missed a man who waited for them right at the top of the stairs, one who shot without hesitation. The bullet should have hit Izuku right in the chest, but he was holding the girl he had promised to save. It hit her instead, saving his life but ending hers almost instantly.

It wasn't instant, though. And he remembers how she had looked up at him, with shock, disbelief, pain, and fear. But more than that, he remembered the look of hope. And he doesn't know if it was confusion, or ill-advised optimism that would never cease despite the odds, but she spoke her last words to him then.

"Don't worry," she had choked out, with a smile and the tears on her cheeks that betrayed it.

"Deku will save us."

Izuku felt too warm, trying to shake his head to rid himself of the memory.

"Work," he reminded himself. "Work, work."

He knew that his best chance of preventing anything like that from happening again was to stop it before it started. He had to find the evil in the world and snuff it out before it could spread. But evil doesn't exist in a vacuum.

Evil is born and raised. It's shut out, dealt a bad hand. Loved or unloved; seen or unseen. Evil is a product of generations of the product of an evening. It can sometimes be found in minds and hearts, but always in places it shouldn't be.

It had been hard for Izuku to learn that evil wouldn't be going anywhere despite his best efforts. Like the the night to the day, it just is. He didn't know if it was necessary, and understood that ultimately, he would not be the one to decide. He could only be evil's consequence, but that had consequences for him as well. Everything balanced out, one way or another. All he could do was try to tip the scales in favor of the righteous and the good.

He spent the next few hours pouring over any and all footage from the incident, as well as witness testimonies. From that, he could gather a decent description of the second perpetrator despite his face being partially obscured. The guy was too coward to even show his face, so he'd worn sunglasses and a baseball cap. He did, however, neglect to cover the tattoos that covered his arms, and some were familiar.

At this point, Izuku had seen criminals of all kinds, and was starting to be able to tell who ran with who just based on their tattoos and general demeanor. But while these looked familiar, he couldn't exactly place them. They were slightly different than those of the main gang that ran in his area, so he decided he would send an enhanced (as enhanced as possible based on grainy footage from the scene) photograph of the tattoo he was looking at to both Dynamight and Shouto's agencies. Maybe they would recognize it.

There wasn't much else to go on at the moment, so as difficult as it was, Izuku turned back to the less pressing but very necessary task of filing reports from past cases. Cases--at times very loosely called so--could mean anything from a traffic violation to a minor dispute. Of which, there were many, especially in a big city. It wasn't glamorous, but it was work that needed doing. And, in his absence, the reports had started to pile up.

"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Paperwork."

To Izuku, the minutes seemed to pass more quickly than usual, which was probably due to the fact that he could basically hear the humming of his heartbeat. His leg was bouncing too, unconsciously, a dull anxiety nipping at his throat while his heart turned over in his chest. His vital organs thrumming with energy made him feel connected to the moment in a way he wished he could reject. It came out of nowhere, that thief of focus. Not completely unwelcome, but uncomfortable in a way that made him start to realize the sweat on his skin and the scratch of his collar.

He had been productive, at least, and had burned through the daylight. He checked the time, eyes growing a bit when he realized how long he had been working. He was completely caught up on paperwork and had even started to get ahead on some things, so he should've known that he had gone way beyond working hours.

He packed his things and left, noticing how he seemed to be the last one in the office. Jane had really taken it to heart when he asked not to be bothered. In some ways, he was relieved. He felt like he'd had enough conversation for the day, so he found a guilty pleasure in walking out in silence. It seemed that even the camera and news crews had taken their leave, and Izuku let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

Once he arrived home, he had only just turned the key when your door was thrown open. He flinched, visibly startled, before taking you in.

You looked flustered as you rushed out, "Oh, did I scare you? I'm sorry." Sheepishly you added, "I totally wasn't waiting for you to come home or anything. Just wanted to...look...at the hallway." You nodded then, as if trying to convince yourself, "You know, for fresh air..."

Izuku laughed, slightly confused, but like felt that was the right move.

"Do you want to come over?" You asked suddenly, and he saw something hopeful swimming in your eyes, which were much more open now than the last time he had seen you. He was thankful for that.

Before he could even agree, you said, "I promise I won't fall asleep on you this time."

He really laughed at that as he nodded, "Sure. Give me 10 minutes? I just need to put my stuff away and change."

"No," you whined playfully, slipping back into your apartment. "Don't change. I like you how you are!"

Izuku just laughed at your antics as your door closed, glad to see you much more full of energy. He hoped you were able to get the rest you needed, but knew that fixing that level of deprivation would take a bit of time. You can't catch up on sleep, after all.

[fairlith]

TW: Eating disorders, unaliving ideation, abuse

My experience with fandom:

I just saw this on Instagram, and again the whole Chappell Roan discourse is really making me think of when the Portal musical went viral and derailed my career by making my self-esteem so bad I considered some options too triggering to spell out here.

I was attacked for my singing voice and my acting and my ideas and my writing... unless it involved cute boys. I wrote and directed and designed the cores, but people acted like they just emerged from heaven one day. GLaDOS was my fault and people hated me. Everything else that they liked was somehow separate.

Most of all I was AND STILL AM REGULARLY attacked for my weight. I haven't done more than skim the comments on the Portal musical in years. It's really bad for my mental health. Publicly, I've been like, 'she's a computer, who cares what she weighs, haha' and waved it off, but in reality it gave me a fairly bad problem with binge-eating and stopping auditioning for literally anything. I have not auditioned for one single thing since all that happened. I gave up. My self-confidence is shot. I go to therapy, I've just never gotten enthusiastic about putting myself out there again.

If I used the word 'queer', people invasively demanded I publicly declare if I knew I was using a slur, because they knew I was a straight lady, because I hadn't featured their favourite pairing in the musical. I don't like that pairing. It's not canon. There are no canon pairings in the game. People called me homophobic A LOT.

I have an ex-wife. I am queer as Hell.

I had been in an abusive relationship with my mother, and then with a series of men, so I wrote the show as an allegory about how being abused can make you a broken person who hurts others.

In my story, I worked hard on my mental health. In GLaDOS' story, she isolates herself so she doesn't hurt anybody anymore. Sad.

I was accused of being ableist for not including Doug Rattman in the original production. HE'S DEAD in the game... But rather than keep getting hate mail, I tried to accommodate and put him in the second production.

People started trying to reach me through personal social media if I ignored their nasty/weird messages. So ignoring didn't work. If I responded when tagged in hate, then I was also in the wrong.

Don't get me wrong, plenty of people were nice, but the YouTube comments especially outweighed those voices.

The wild thing was... the Portal musical has MILLIONS of views, and very few of its fans ever supported the company with a donation or buying a cast recording I saved up to make. People stole the ONE DOLLAR cast recording and put it on YouTube. So I was famous enough for people to CONSTANTLY tag me in hate and tell me I was homophobic, that the musical wasn't good, that I'm fat, ugly, can't act, and can't sing... But I wasn't famous enough to make almost any money off it, so it felt like the only way to encourage my career to change in a way that would help me survive off it was to make myself available to people.

The viral success never translated into any sort of monetary value, and eventually I couldn't afford to do weird fandom art for 80 hours a week for waaaay below minimum wage.

I saved up to pay for that musical and paid everyone who participated out of the profits. And again, people were attacking me over a for-fun art project. I don't mean that resentfully, exactly, but Chappell Roan has riches. I had nothing. I gradually retreated from the public eye and tried to post less to YouTube and disabled comments often when I did.

When I complained about how people treated me online, I was accused of playing 'victim'. People bullied me until I deactivated the theatre company's tumblr, then bullied me for doing that, so I deleted it, so someone took it so they could make fun of me on the old url. People tagged me in hate and when I responded, they would make fun of me for that. Someone started a Twitter impersonating me and putting nasty words in my mouth.

People were harassing a person who regularly has 80 bucks or less in chequing as an independent artist as if I was a 'real' famous person with anything else going for me. My resources were VERY limited. The Portal musical had seven performances (including one concert) in two years.

That every single piece of discourse on Chappell Roan hating fame has had TONS of comments about how selfish she is has been actually weirdly/very triggering for me. I know now that giving up on my dream and not trying to push Geekenders or my personal theatre art further was the right call, because, as I am very autistic, I'm very certain I would have hated even a lick of real fame. I sure hated what happened with my silly little fanfic musical.

I don't expect anyone to really see this, but it was nice to write it. The Chappell Roan discourse is triggering. It makes me really sad.

That's all.

...I really need a journaling outlet. Maybe this tumblr'll be that.

[dandylovesturtles]

Hi, I love your Sidelined AU! My question(s) is about the emotional fallout of Draxum’s cruelty towards Leo in the original oneshot – do Leo’s brothers realize the impact of what Draxum said to Leo - since it hurt that they didn’t refute his words at the time? And what is Draxum really sorry for, if he expected Leo to die (‘I can make you a replacement son’)? (to be clear I like remorse and redemption arcs and am totally on board, just trying to get my head around it)

thank you!

this is a fair question! when I wrote that initial one shot it was not envisioned as part of a series, so if I had actually written it with that in mind there likely would be some differences, like I would have made an effort to include April and probably would have scaled back some of Draxum's more blatantly villainous dialogue. but I didn't know, and so I didn't write it that way, and now we have what we have because retcons are for cowards /jjjjj

in regards to his brothers not refuting Draxum: Leo would try to avoid letting them know how bad that hurt him initially because he doesn't want them to know that bothered him, but he's really low and ends up fighting with Donnie especially and I could see it coming out in a weak moment of bitterness that they didn't defend them, which would definitely make his bros upset, because yeah, they didn't. to be clear it's not because they actually agreed with Draxum, it's because they're young teenagers who were in a stressful situation and they were all in shock over what was happening. I think we can all forgive a 13/14/15-year-old for not having the correct emotional response ready to go, haha. and in time Leo will realize this too - they could probably all benefit from family therapy tbh but it is what it is. anyway, they do realize the impact of it on his mental health eventually and it's a work in progress to help him out of that rut.

Draxum... really wasn't thinking of the boys as, like... people, at that time? I'm not convinced if Draxum really knew what level of sentience the boys were going to have and was probably still thinking of them as animals at first. and then when he met them and realized they do have human level intelligence... well, humans dehumanize other humans all the time, and remember that Draxum was planning to attempt a genocide, so overlooking the personhood of others was a thing he was already prepared to do.

he said what he said mostly to antagonize Splinter. in his mind, Leo wasn't much more than an animal, so he wasn't really Lou Jitsu's son. like sure, he used Lou Jitsu's DNA to mutate him but that's not really the same, is it? the idea that Lou Jitsu had been off playing house with his experiments was ludicrous to him, because those aren't children, they're experimental soldier prototypes. it made as much sense to him as a trainer calling an attack dog their son.

it's not really until he's seeing their pure grief over what's happening to Leo, when he's interacting with them in a cooperative capacity, that he starts to accept that they are actually a family, and that what he's done has destroyed them. as with many situations, unfortunately, it takes seeing the hurt he's caused and empathizing with them to finally see them as people, and to regret the actions he's taken. of course, it's too little too late at that time, but he has time to make it up to them eventually... he just really has to work for it.

thanks for the ask!

[penmansparadise]

Ed Nygma ~ The Set Up

Pairing: Ed Nygma x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Mild language

A/N: Hello!  It's been quite some time since I've posted and written.  I have been recently watching Gotham, and I'm obsessed.  This is the first time I've ever dabbled in the DC realm, so please go easy on me.  This will hopefully be the first of several one shots for the show Gotham.  Please do not be afraid to send in a request but do know that I am only at the beginning of Season 3, so who I write for may be limited.  But if you like this one, please send in a request for another!  I hope you all enjoy

§

The sound of your shoes against the tile floor mixed with the hustle and bustle of the GCPD. You moved around officers hauling in criminals screaming for justice as you made your way to your little corner of the building. You hadn’t been working at the GCPD for long. In fact, you were happy where you were previously employed. You would have stayed there forever had a former employee, who was now caged up in Arkham, not decided to torch the place. So, when you found yourself out of a job, you did what any ordinary distraught adult would do. You called your best friend and scheduled a date for some much-needed wine therapy. Unfortunately for you, your best friend was hanging out with her close buddy, Kristen Kringle, when said call was made.

You had only met Kristen a handful of times and were not a fan. She always struck you as shallow. Every time you spent time with her, she would only ever talk about how much she hated her job but enjoyed all the male attention from the officers. So, naturally, when your best friend told you that Kristen could get you a job as her assistant at the GCPD, you were a little skeptical. But, since your options were limited, you reluctantly accepted and eventually found yourself being Kristen’s own personal servant.

You hurried through the building until you came upon the Record’s Room door. Just as you were about to enter, the trill of Kristen’s giggle filled your ears, causing you to pause. You peeked around the corner to find Officer Dougherty trailing his fingers up and down Kristen’s arm. His head was angled down as he whispered something into her ear, earning another laugh. You rolled your eyes before turning on your heel with a huff and headed toward the M.E.’s office. When you entered the room, it was empty. Lee always ran a bit late, but you knew she wouldn’t mind if you hid in her office. She was used to it by now.

You dropped your bag onto the floor and began aimlessly walking around the room. Vials of odd-colored liquids were chilling in a refrigerator, and several medical tools were lined on the table in the middle of the room. You meandered over to the lone skeleton in the corner and began lifting up its limp arms. You gave them a light shake causing the whole thing to rattle when the door opened.

“Making friends over there?” Lee asked.

You dropped the arms and let out a little chuckle.

“I couldn’t help myself. He looked a little bonely.”

“Not a pun this early in the morning, Y/N” Lee groaned.

You just smiled as you moved to plop down into her roller chair. As you watched Lee set up for the day, you began slowly spinning the chair. She sent you a glance over her shoulder.

“Kristen has company again?”

You scoffed and said, “Officer Dougherty, now.”

“She sure moved on quickly from Flass.”

With every spin, you briefly looked at Lee and said, “Don’t even get me started.”

Lee let out a breathy laugh and then continued to move around the room. You were spinning in silence when the door opened again, and none other than Ed Nygma entered. You slammed your feet down in an attempt to stop the spinning and nearly sent yourself flying from the chair. A bright smile spread across Ed’s face the second your eyes locked with his.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Hi, Ed,” you said, his name coming out like a secret you didn’t want anyone else to know.

“I thought I might find you here.”

You and Ed hit it off immediately, which inevitably meant that your crush for him blossomed rather quickly. You remember it like it was yesterday. It was your first day on the job, and Kristen had delegated sorting to you. So, you were crouched behind the filing cabinets going through shelves of folders, when Ed walked into the Record’s Room. You didn’t see him right away. You could only hear was his chipper and smooth voice as he greeted Kristen.

“Though my beauty is becoming,” he said, his smile seeping into every word, “I can hurt you just the same; I come in many colors; I am what I am by any other name. What am I?”

Kristen groaned.

“Mr. Nygma, I’m really not in the mood for one of your little riddles.”

“Do you give up?” Ed had asked, not even caring about Kristen’s hostile tone.

You could hear her huff before she said, “Yeah, I give up.”

You didn’t even know him yet, but for some reason, the way Kristen was treating him was pissing you off. Maybe that’s what possessed you to answer his riddle when he began to give the answer.

“I’m a–”

“Rose,” you said as you stood up, revealing yourself.

His eyes snapped to you, and you took a sharp breath. He was cuter than he sounded. Tall with hair combed almost systematically and eyes the color of a warm cup of coffee. And when he directed his smile toward you, it felt like you were struck by lightning. He pulled a rose you didn’t see him holding from behind his back and handed it to you.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

You took the rose from him, your fingers just barely grazing his velvety skin. His eyes traveled over every inch of your face, from the arch of your brow to the curve of your lips.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he began, extending his hand to you. “I’m Ed Nygma.”

You placed your hand in his large palm and couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

The corners of his lips curled upward as he shook your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.”

He held onto your hand for a moment longer than necessary before finally taking his exit. You were frozen in time as your body reacted to him even though he was no longer in the room. You could barely hear when Kristen began to whine about how Ed was the guy she told your best friend about who wouldn’t leave her alone. Her voice became a hum as you stared at the rose Ed gave you, and all you could think was that you were glad Kristen didn’t like him because you did. A lot.

That was six months ago. And ever since that first meeting, Ed would visit you every morning and give you a riddle. His daily ritual only furthered your feelings for him. As the months rolled on, you did your best to conceal your emotions, but it seemed that everyone knew of your ever-growing crush. Of course, that was everyone but Ed.

You sat up a little straighter in your chair as you waited for Ed to deliver his daily riddle.

“When you stop to look, you can always see me. But,” he said, sticking a finger in the air, “if you try to touch me, you can never feel me. Although you walk towards me, I remain the same distance from you. What am I?”

You began nibbling on your lower lip as you tried to work through the riddle, whispering to yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed as you brought your hand to your chin.

“Do you give up?” He asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You waved your hands at him as you let out a string of “no’s,” but after a few more minutes of nothing, you finally let out a defeated huff.

“I give up. What is it?”

Ed’s grin grew, then he said, “The horizon.”

You threw your head back and groaned earning a laugh from Ed.

“I should’ve gotten that one!” You shouted. “That was a good riddle. Right, Lee?”

Lee hummed in response.

“Yeah, it was.”

Ed gave her a nod and said, “Good morning, Dr. Thompkins.”

“Ed,” Lee began with a gentle smile, “please just call me Lee.”

“Right. My apologies, Lee.”

He turned back to you, and your heart jumped in your chest. Even after all these months, you were still unable to figure out how he had such an effect on you. Ed just existing made you melt. You couldn’t help but think what would happen if he ever got his hands on you. Your bottom lip slid between your teeth at the thought.

“Well,” Ed said, pulling you back to reality, “I better head out. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later, Miss Y/L/N.”

You nodded and let out a weak “Okay,” before Ed turned and began walking toward the door. As he went to leave, you looked at Lee, who mouthed, “Say something,” to which you quickly shook your head. Lee rolled her eyes, and just before the door shut behind Ed, she called out to him. At first, the door remained shut, but when it slowly opened again, your heart sank. You tried to control the way your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you watched Lee, but you knew how you were feeling was written all over your face. Ed reentered the room and looked between the two of you.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked, his innocence doing something to your insides.

“No, of course not!” Lee said, moving toward him. “No, um, I was just thinking about our conversation we had a while back about cooking. Do you remember that?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you sent Lee a look, but she ignored you. Ed nodded.

“Y-yes, I do.”

Lee smiled, and to the normal eye, it may have looked endearing. But to you, a close friend, you knew she was scheming.

“I remember you mentioned how you loved to cook and would like to have a double date with Jim and me.”

Your spine straightened, and you began to stand from your chair.

“Lee…”

“I was just wondering if you were free tonight?” Lee asked, ignoring your protest.

Ed’s eyes flitted from Lee’s to yours and back. His cheeks began to redden as he dropped his head and absentmindedly fixed his glasses.

“Oh,” he began, “um, I-I am free, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold up my end of the whole double date thing. I, uh, I don’t have a date.”

Lee’s gaze snapped to yours briefly before saying, “Just bring Y/N!”

Your whole body was tense, and you clenched your fists at your side.

“Lee,” you said, but it was as if you weren’t even in the room.

“I’m sure she has no plans.”

“Lee!” You barked, finally gaining her attention.

You gave her a look, but when Ed turned to face you, you did your best to look as if you weren’t about to pass out or commit murder. He began to fidget with his glasses again and avoided your stare as he said, “I, uh, if you’re free, um, would you like to maybe join us for dinner, Miss Y/L/N?”

When his stare finally met yours, you could see the vulnerability deep in his eyes. You looked at Lee briefly before nodding.

“I’d love to, Ed,” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You could almost see the tension leave his body as he relaxed his shoulders.

“Fantastic. How does seven sound?”

Lee clapped a hand on Ed’s shoulder and said, “That sounds perfect. We’ll see you later.”

A grin spread across Ed’s face before he gave a curt nod and exited once more. And as soon as the door shut behind him, you turned to Lee, who looked smug.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, but Lee didn’t care. She just looked at you and crossed her arms.

“You’re welcome,” she said, causing your jaw to drop, but before you could argue, she held her hand up to stop you. “I don’t want to hear why you think what I did was wrong. Now, you better head to records before someone starts looking for you.”

You stood frozen with your mouth agape for another moment before finally letting out a groan and grabbing your bag from the floor.

“This isn’t over!” You shouted as you showed yourself out, and just as the door was shutting, you could hear Lee’s chuckle.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. No matter how hard you tried to focus on work, your mind was elsewhere. A thousand scenarios were running through your head. What if Ed called you and told you that he actually found a date and didn’t want you to show up? What if he didn’t call and you got to his place only to see some other woman? Your stomach rolled at the thought. Even though you were excited to finally have an unofficial date with Ed, you couldn’t help the way your heart was trying to run away from you.

By the time your shift ended, it felt like you had aged fifteen years. You had been stressing for eight hours, and the evening hadn’t even begun yet. Kristen had already left by the time you gathered your things and began to make your way to the exit. You were digging through your bag when you ran into someone. When you looked up to apologize, you saw Lee and Jim.

“Oh! I’m so glad I ran into you,” Lee said with that same sneaky smile from earlier.

The hairs on the back of your neck stuck up as you asked, “Why?”

Lee let out a sigh.

“We won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight.” She placed a hand on Jim’s back and gave a small pout. “Poor Jim here has come down with a stomach bug.”

You looked at Jim, who was avoiding your stare, and your eyes narrowed.

“He looks fine.”

Lee elbowed him in the side, and Jim slowly brought his closed fist up to his mouth before giving a cough. You furrowed your eyebrows and let out a dry laugh.

“Did you just fake cough?”

Jim shuffled his feet a bit then, in the most monotonous tone, said, “I have been instructed to get bed rest…doctor’s orders.”

Your eyes grew as you looked back at Lee.

“Is he being serious?”

Lee just gave a bashful grin and a shrug before turning to usher Jim out of the precinct.

“Hey!” You shouted after them, but they didn’t turn around, and soon you were standing alone in the bullpen.

“Son of a bitch,” you whispered through gritted teeth as you exited the building and made your way to your vehicle.

It was as if you were on autopilot as you drove home. And when you finally arrived at your apartment, you could barely focus on getting ready for the evening. Your thoughts were a whirlwind. You and Ed had never been alone together before. In fact, you never spent any time together outside of work. Here and there, you would talk on the phone, sometimes even late into the evening, but you had never been on a date. You weren’t sure what to expect, especially now that Lee and Jim wouldn’t be there as a buffer. But even though Lee had set you up and you were nervous, maybe even scared, you still drove to Ed’s apartment at seven. You hiked up the stairs until you were staring at his cold metal front door. Your hands were shaking, and you turned to look at the steps that would lead you right back to the comfort of your car. You could have easily just gone back home and blamed your absence on a headache or your nonexistent sick goldfish. But you didn’t. Instead, you raised your shaky hand and knocked on Ed’s door.

It took him a moment to get to the door, but when it slid open, and you saw him, your heart fluttered in your chest. His normally well-manicured hair was a little disheveled, only making him even more attractive. A bright smile split across his face.

“You came,” he said as he opened the door even further to allow you to enter.

You walked in and were immediately blanketed with a decadent smell emanating from the kitchen, and something that reminded you of clean linen. Your eyes shut for a minute as you took a deep breath. You only opened them again when you heard Ed shut the door and ask, “Do you know when Dr. Thompkins and Detective Gordon will be joining us?”

You let out a sigh and made a mental note to maim Lee when you saw her at work again.

“Um,” you cleared your throat and turned to face Ed,” they’re actually not coming.”

“Oh?”

With that simple sentence, you could see the anxiety seep into Ed’s demeanor.

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “Jim wasn’t feeling well.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a moment as Ed stared and processed what you said. His stare was glued to the floor, and you were starting to think this was a bad idea until he lifted his chocolate brown eyes to meet yours and gave you his award-winning smile.

“Well, I guess it’ll just be the two of us then.”

Before you could say anything in return, he hustled past you and entered the kitchen, resuming his work on setting the plates.

“Please, make yourself at home. Dinner is almost ready.”

You took in the apartment as you leisurely made your way toward the table. It was rather small, but everything about it screamed “Ed.” His decor was modern and simple, and there wasn’t one thing out of place. From the books sitting on his bookshelf to the vinyl he had stacked next to his record player, everything had its own spot.

When you finally made it to the table, Ed had just placed two perfectly crafted plates of food down. He pulled your chair out for you, and when you were seated, he took his place across from you. The food looked just as good as it smelt. You honestly weren’t expecting anything special but were pleasantly surprised when you took your first bite. Several flavors danced on your tongue, and you had to hold back a moan.

“Ed,” you said a little too breathy, “this tastes amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

A pleased grin pulled at Ed’s lips, and he shrugged.

“Cooking is like a science, is it not?”

You gave a small chuckle before diving back into your plate. The rest of the meal went by in silence. You were too immersed in your food to even bother starting a conversation. But the way Ed’s foot tapped incessantly under the table did not go unnoticed. And when you both finished, Ed nearly jumped from his seat to gather all the dishes and begin cleaning. You followed him into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel. Neither of you spoke as you worked. But you could see a slight shake in Ed’s typically steady hands as he washed the plates. You noticed how every few seconds, he pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose, despite them not needing to be adjusted. You saw how his shoulders were just slightly more tense than usual. How could you not notice? For six months, you had cataloged everything about Ed and stowed it away in your mind. You knew everything about him, even if you tried to deny it. And as badly as you wanted to convince yourself that the evening was going well, you knew that Ed had been acting different since you had arrived.

When the kitchen was cleaned, you hung the dish towel to dry and leaned against the counter opposite Ed. His eyes never met yours, but your gaze was trained on his fidgeting figure. His hair was even more tousled than before, showcasing the beginnings of a few curls. Your fingers itched to brush them back off his forehead, but you didn’t dare move. And you knew the easy thing to do would be to just grab your things and say goodnight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Instead, you took a deep breath and said, “Ed, is everything alright?”

His eyes flicked up from the floor to meet yours, and his forehead creased at your question.

“W-what do you mean?”

You threw your hands in the air and let out a small grunt.

“I mean, you’ve been acting weird all night.”

You watched as Ed swallowed as you continued.

“Usually, things aren’t so…tense between us,” you said to your shoes. Then you raised your eyes to meet his again. “Did I do something wrong?”

Ed’s face immediately softened at your question, and he closed the distance between the two of you. He took your hands in his as he shook his head.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything. It’s, uh,” he dropped his hold on you and began to pace.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered more to himself than you.

You furrowed your brow at him and tried to place your hand on his arm, but he was moving too erratically for you to touch him.

“Do what?” You asked, causing him to stop in front of you.

Ed took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, focusing his stare on you.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Ed,” you said, “just call me Y/N.”

He shook his head and readjusted his glasses once more.

“Right. Y/N.”

He looked at you again.

“I, uh, for a long time, um, oh geez.”

You watched as his mouth opened and closed several times before he balled up his fists, pressed them to his eyes, and let out a high-pitched whine.

“Ed,” you began, taking a step closer to him, “are you o–”

Suddenly, Ed’s hands dropped, and his eyes pierced into yours.

“I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express but the easiest to ignore.”

He took a deep breath and slowly inched toward you as he continued.

“I can be given to many or just one.”

His shaky and slender fingers traced down your arm sending shocks of electricity down your spine.

“What am I?” He asked, voice so low it was barely above a whisper.

Your mind was a muddle. There was no way you could think of an answer with his fingers brushing against yours and his heart clearly exposed. You shook your head, and Ed asked, “Do you give up?”

You gave a weak nod. Ed dropped your gaze for a brief moment before looking back at you and saying, “Love.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his answer, and your heart pounded against your chest. Ed laced his fingers together with yours.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since the first time I met you.”

Every part of you was buzzing from his admission. You had been waiting months for him to show you any sign that he felt the same way you did. When he didn’t, you began to think your feelings were one-sided. But here he was, standing in the middle of his kitchen, holding your hand, professing his love for you. Your knees felt like they were about to give out, and all the oxygen escaped your lungs. When you didn’t say anything right away, Ed started fidgeting again. He released your hand and began tapping his glasses.

“Oh, great,” he said to the floor, “Now you’re uncomfortable, and I just ruined the only real friendship I have. Way to go, Ed. You–“

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. Instead, you took his face between your hands and slammed your lips to his. He was stiff at first, but it only took a moment before his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His large hands gripped the fabric against your back, and you didn’t waste any time letting your hands thread through his hair. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion. The way Ed’s lips moved in sync with yours felt unhurried. The way the heat bubbling in your gut slowly seeped throughout the rest of your body felt like drinking a cup of hot cocoa after being out in a winter storm all day. It was everything you had imagined and more.

When you finally pulled back for air, you brought your eyes up to meet Ed’s and whispered, “I’m in love with you too, Ed.”

“Really?” He asked, incredulous.

You just nodded, earning a small laugh from Ed before he pressed his lips to yours again. The rest of the evening, you and Ed sat cuddled up on his couch, listening to his array of records while you made a mental note to not maim Lee but rather figure out how you could ever thank her for setting you and Ed up.  

*I do not own gif* *Credit to gif owner*

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hey,

could you write a Hannibal one-shot (platonic), where he somehow becomes friends (FBI work) with a teenager, who has a dark sense of humor and overall quite to his liking, but is harmless?

Hannibal X Platonic!Reader: The friends we make along the way

Warnings: murder, death, talks of trauma, crime scenes, teenagers being teenagers, Hannibal being annoyed by you, no use of y/n, not proofread, gn reader.

Word count: 1K

“What can you tell me about the person in the picture?”

“Well, they’re dead.”

Hannibal closed his eyes, his hand moving to put pressure on his brow bone. He knew you were being annoying on purpose. He didn't know why he expected for you to be different from any other teenager he’d ever met. Perhaps the fact that you'd been through a traumatic event. But then again who hadn't. 

All though he was sure usual people's traumatic events weren't anything like yours. Normal people don't find themselves in a situation where they have to stab their best friend to death. When he’d first met you you’d been covered in blood. Your eyes were wide and you had a knife in your hand. You stuttered something out but Hannibal hadn't quite understood what you were saying. It was only later, on the drive to the FBI, that he’d realized you had said: I didn’t want to.

They’d been trying to catch the killers for days and you've managed to kill him with a kitchen knife. The whole experience sent you into a bad place mentally. You’d never hurt anyone before and finding out your best friend of ten years had been killing people who matched your appearance as a tribute to you was difficult to process. The FBI ruled it off as self defense and they let you go but not without suggesting you seek therapy. Hannibal had been of great comfort to you so it was only neutral you requested him as your physiatrist.

Hannibal tapped on the images on the table.

“I’m serious. You want to become an agent, you need to be able to find the clues.”

“Hannibal no offense but I doubt this is going to help me get into the academy.”

You walked over to his ladder, hanging yourself on it with one hand.

“Plus wouldn't it be better if Will was helping me with this. Since, you know, he works for the FBI.”

“Will works for the FBI because his condition gives him something they consider valuable he-”

“Can go into the killers mind. Yeah yeah I know. You’ve only told me that about a thousand times.”

Hannibal steeled himself. Gosh he did not have patience for children. He sat down on his desk watching you continue to swing on his ladder.

“Be careful you’ll end up hurting yourself.

“Okay Dad.”

The annoyance was clear in your voice. You hopped off the ladder landing on the floor with a dramatic flair.

“See i’m fine.”

Hannibal watched you walk over to his drawings taking them in. You’d always liked art and Hannibal was quite good. Since your first session Hannibal noticed you had trouble staying still. He didn;t mind it as long as you managed to focus. Something that was proving rather difficult at the moment.

“Did you always wanna be a psychiatrist?”

“No. I was a surgeon before.”

“What made you stop? Did you kill someone or something?”

An uneasy silence filled the room. You had a morbid sense of humor which often made people uncomfortable but Hannibal had never seemed to mind it. So when you felt the atmosphere shift upon your words you could tell you’d said something that had upset him. You turned around, catching the sullen look in Hannibal's eyes.

“Shit Hannibal. I’m sorry i shouldn’t have joked-”

“It’s fine. You didn;t know. And it was a long time ago.”

You fiddled with your hands, suddenly feeling on edge. You knew you had to change the topic. 

“It’s the bite marks.”

Hannibal raised his head, giving you a curious look.

“I beg your pardon?”

“That's how they caught the killer.”

You walked over to the opposite side of the desk. You leaned over the various crime scene photos until you found the one you wanted. You raised the picture up so that Hannibal could see it. Your finger moved to point out the clear bite mark in one of the victims legs.

“He didn;t let himself bite the other ones but he lost control with this one. He let the animal take over and that was his mistake.”

Hannibal gave you a proud smile.

“Well done.”

“I’m smarter than I look.”

“Well then you must be quite the genius.”

You beamed at him taking in his words as a complement. 

“Coming from you that high praise.”

“Only telling the truth.”

You helped Hannibal gather the pictures off his desk, placing them neatly inside a folder. Jack had allowed Hannibal to borrow the evidence so he could work it out with you but he needed to give it back. Even though the case had been closed it was still FBI property. You glanced at the clock seeing the time. 

“Well my ride should be here any minute. Walk me out?”

“Of course.”

Hannibal walked behind you, both of you moving towards the door. He opened it for you and you gave him an exaggerated bow of thanks. Hannibal watched you pick up your bag from one of the chairs. 

“We still on for dinner with Will next week?”

“Yes.”

“You sure you don’t want me to bring anything.”

“Your company is more than enough.”

“Well that's going to go straight to my ego.”

You laughed causing Hannibal to smile. You thought about it for a second before moving forward and giving Hannibal a hug. Despite the slight surprise Hannibal wound his arms around you returning the gesture. He caressed your head for a moment before you pulled away. You gave him one last smile before turning to go out the door.

“See you later alligator.”

Your foot was out the door and Hannibal remained silent. You turned to face him, using your hip to keep the door open.

“Come on! You’re not gonna leave me hanging are you?”

Hannibal let out a deep sigh, shaking his head briefly before looking at you.

“After a while, crocodile.” 

You grinned at him.

“See that wasn’t so hard.”

A honk came from outside telling you your ride was here. You gave Hannibal a small wave as you exited. He watched the door close behind you. He’d never expected to become friends with a teenager but you’d surprised him. And in a positive way at that.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

I got a Saltommy/Salommy prompt for you!

The one that got away; Sal realised that if he hadn't buried his feelings, he could have had Tommy all along. But he meets Buck and sees how happy they are, and he mourns what could have been.

Thanks for the prompt!

And oh man this was a sad one to write 😭

As always you can send any bucktommy or saltommy prompts to my ask and I'll write a little something. 🩶

********

Things were going well for Sal. Professionaly speaking that is. He'd finally made Captain at the 122 and had a great team of people under his helm. It had been a rocky start when Captian Nash had transferred him out. It took him months of acting out and a whole bucket of denial before he finally admitted to himself that he was the one the blame. That he had wanted to be Captain of the 118 and his behaviour toward Nash had come from resentment and jealousy.

Six months after leaving he found out Gina was getting remarried and thinking about moving to the other side of the country, taking the twins with her. And then he found himself being given an ultimatum by his Captain after a turning up to work with alcohol on his breath: go to therapy or go home. Permanently. He'd chosen the former, and 5 years down the line it could happily admit that it was the best decision he'd ever made.

His co-parenting relationship with Gina, who chose to stay, was better than it ever was when they were married. He even attended her wedding!

There was, however, one thing from his past that still haunted him.

Tommy.

There had always been something there between them. Something that they both thought was just friendship. That all changed one night after a particularly tough shift when Tommy had invited him over to his place for some beers. Gina was thinking about moving closer to her parents and Sal was devastated at the thought.

"It's just.. my girls are my world. If Gina takes them away I don't know what I'll do." He placed his head in his hands and tried to sniff away the emotion. Tommy slid closer to him on the sofa and placed a comforting hand between Sal's shoulder blades and rubbed gently.

"It'll be okay. Gina knows how much you love those kids." He said. Sal sniffed again.

"I don't know, Tommy."

"Look at me." He told Sal. Sal sniffed again and lifting his head to meet Tommys gaze. "You might be a crappy husband but you're an amazing dad."

"You really think that?" He asked; his eyes wet and pleading.

"Yes." He answered. Tommy's eyes were soft and his reassuring smile was easy. Sals heart was hurting and he was terrified of losing his girls. He knew he could rely on Tommy to give him some comfort but he needed more. He needed security. He needed a promise that it would all be okay. He needed something to be wrapped around his insides, to really feel it would all be okay. As he thought about it all, he found himself looking at Tommys lips. He hadn't done it consciously but he was doing it. Without warning an idea popped into his head that shot fire into his organs. But without the level headed-ness of sobriety, he acted before he could analyse the thought.

He leaned forward and kissed Tommy. Tommy kissed back without hesitation. The kiss was big and wet. Drunken. Sal pushed his body forward, tipping Tommy back onto the couch with him on top. It was a big mistake. The quick movment sent a massive wave of nausea through Sal and he grabbed at his mouth.

"Woah!" Tommy called out pushing Sal back up and reaching out for the empty popcorn bowl on the table, shoving into Sals lap just in time to catch the repeat of Sals dinner and beer. Tommy got up to use the bathroom and get Sal a glass of water and by the time he came back into the living room Sal was already passed out on the couch.

The next morning, in the vice grip of a hangover, Sal had said he didn't remember anything from the previous night and Tommy didnt remind him. But the truth was he remembered it all. He remembered the feel of his lips on Tommy's, the electricity that surged in his stomach at the touch, the way his heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. All of it. But he was too confused, embarrassed and terrified to address it.

Until a week later when he'd gone to Tommy's to watch a pay per view fight, and when Tommy had laughed at something Sal had said - something that he couldn't remember anymore - and his face had crinkled with that big smile, he'd kissed him again. Only this time he was sober. Tommy once again had reciprocated. This kiss however was different from the last. It wasn't drunken and all over the place. It was slow and gentle. Tentative. It happened a few more times that night and everytime Sal felt like he was floating.

They began seeing eachother in secret. Over the next year things got deeper between them. Within a month they'd agreed to not see other people and 6 months in Sal had been the first to say "I love you." Tommy had beamed and said it back.

Every so often Tommy would approach the subject of going public. But Sal always shut it down.

"I get this is new for you, and not for me. And I don't want you to feel pressured. But, I love you and I want us to be in a normal relationship. One where I get to take you out and show you off." Tommy had said one night, as they lay in his bed in a post coital haze.

"I know, and I love you too, Tommy. But I'm just.. I'm not ready. I'm from a big, traditional Catholic family, you know that. It's gonna cause a lot of shit. Shit that I'm not ready to deal with." He'd argued.

Tommy knew it wouldn't be easy for him and he'd probably lose family over it. And he knew how much that would hurt Sal and so he backed off. But the longer their relationship went on, the harder it got for Tommy. He was feeling like a dirty secret. He began resent Sal for it.

And then the fight happened. The fight that changed everything.

They'd gone to a bar after shift with a few other members of the 118. Tommy tried to sit next to Sal at the table and Sal had responded by scooting around to the other side. Tommy tried to ignore the shitty feeling it gave him. Until Hen had pointed out a gorgeous woman standing at the bar.

"I'd sell my own mother get a piece of that." Sal told her with a laugh. Tommy's stomach sank at the comment. His heart broke. In that moment he realised that Sal would probably never be ready to be with him. Not entirely. Not like Tommy needed. Sal knew his comment probably hurt Tommy and for the next moments avoided his eyes. Tommy, however, stood up.

"Im actually really tired, so I'm going to head home. I'll see you guys tomorrow." He told them and left the bar, not giving Sal or anybody a chance to respond.

Two hours later Sal showed up at Tommy's.

"I really can't talk to you right now, Sal. Please, just go home." He tried to close the door but Sal, though 2 inches shorter than Tommy, was actually a little stronger and pushed past him at the door and walked into the kitchen.

"Sal, I'm serious." He told him, firmly.

"I know why you're mad, Tommy and I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Tommy asked.

"For making those comments in the bar. I shouldn't have said that in front of you." Sal said. Tommy scoffed.

"Sal, you shouldn't have been saying them at all! And you wouldn't have if Hen, or anybody else, knew about us."

"You know why I can't! And we can't keep having this same fight." Sal argued back.

"I do know why, Sal. And I get it. You know I do. I've been there. But I can't.. I can't live like this. I can't spend another day feeling like your dirty little secret. It's breaking my heart."

Sal ran a hand though his hair. He knew how he was making Tommy feel and he hated it. It broke his own heart to know he was doing that to Tommy. But he was terrified of losing everything if people found out. His parents, the girls.. he couldn't lose them. But he didn't want to lose Tommy either. He loved him.

"I just.. I want to be.. I want to tell people, Tommy. I want to be the man that makes you feel good and not the man that makes you feel bad. But-"

"You're not ready." Tommy finished. His tone full of realisation. Sal was never going to be ready. He could stay with him and hope that one day, someday, Sal would feel he was ready. But there was no guarantee that that day would ever come. And Tommy couldn't hold out hope any longer.

"Im not ready." Sal repeated looking down.

"I can't be someone's secret, Sal. Even if I do love them. I'm sorry." Sal looked up to see a tear rolling down Tommy's cheek.

"Wait, are you.. are you breaking up with me?!" Sal said incredulously.

"Im sorry, Sal. I can't do this anymore. And I'm not going to force you to come out, because that would be a really shitty thing to do. But that means my only option is to walk away. I've worked so hard over the last few years to become someone I'm proud of and I can't go back to hiding in the closet. I'm sorry. I just can't."

"Tommy, please, " Sal pleaded. He stepped closer to Tommy "I promise i-"

Tommy stepped back.

"No, Sal." His voice was low and shaky. He was using everything within him to hold back more tears that were desperate to fall. Sal held his gaze for a moment, hoping it would change. Eventually Tommy's eyes moved away. Sals heart broke. He wanted to say something. Anything. A thousand things to beg Tommy to not do this. But he couldn't. That fear of coming out was far too deep rooted. He simply turned and walked out of Tommy's house.

The next week at work was excruciating. Seeing Tommy everyday and not being able to talk to him or touch him was almost physically painful. Tommy had tried to speak to him, to make sure he was okay but he couldn't handle that. He snapped at him, sniped at him and was generally being a bastard. They'd had another new captain, Nash, and Sal was not making a good impression on him by behaving the way that he was. It all came to a head after a shift when Nash had reprimanded him for putting them in danger on a scene. Nash had fired him. He'd changed his mind the next day and instead chose to transfer him to the 122, but for a while Sal thought he whole world was falling apart.

5 years later, and his life was entirely different. His work and home life were exactly what he'd wanted them to be. With one exception. He was alone. He'd dated here or there over the years. Including men once he'd accepted that he did in fact like men, too. But it never worked out. They weren't Tommy. Losing him was the biggest regret of his life.

He and his team had gone out for drinks one evening at a random badge and ladders bar. He'd left the group the get another drink and stood at the bar. Movement in his peripheral vision made him look to the right and his heart almost stopped at the sight of the man standing at the bar.

"Tommy?"

"Sal." Tommy's faced crinkled with that big smile he always loved. He moved closer and immediately hugged him, slapping his back with a large hand. He still smelled the same, Sal thought. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah, you too."

"So how's things?" Tommy asked.

"Uh, good. I made Captain at the 122"

"Thats great. Congratulations!"

"Thanks. What about you? You still at the 118?"

"No, I transferred out. I'm at Harbour." He told him.

"You flying again? I know you always wanted to do that again since you left the army." Sal remembered the night they were lying in bed and Tommy had told him how much he had missed being in the air.

"Yeah. I definitely missed it."

"Well I'm glad you're happy there." Sal smiled.

"Hey, Howie and Hen are back there, why don't you come and say Hi." Tommy suggested. Sal contemplated it for a moment.

"That's alright, I'll leave you guys to it."

"No way. I know they'd love to see you. C'mon." He held Sals arm and pulled him through the crowd. The feel of Tommy's hand on his bare forearm felt exactly had it did 5 years before. He wanted that feeling tattooed permanently on his skin.

"Guys look who I found!" He called out as they approached the table.

"Deluca?" Hen questioned with a smile. "It's been a while." She stood to hug him.

"Yeah. How are you? How's Karen?" He asked.

"Good. We're both good."

"How's things at the 122?" Chim asked. Tommy grabbed Sals shoulder.

"Sal, here made Captain." Sal noticed an element of pride in Tommy's voice. He was still proud of him all these years later? A warmth filled his heart. He'd convinced himself that Tommy still hated him.

"Hey thats awesome, congrats." Chim exclaimed.

"Sorry about that." Buck walked up to them. "That was Maddie on the phone. She wants us to babysit Jee-yun on Saturday."

"Let me guess.. our neice wants us to take her to the zoo?" Tommy asked with a fond smile.

Our neice?

"Are you surpised?" Buck asked. "You can't say no to her. She's got her uncle Tommy wrapped around her little finger. She knows you'll give her anything she wants." He laughed.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way." He said. Buck smiled at him fondly and pressed a chaste kiss on Tommy's lips.

Sals heart broke all over again. He knew logically that Tommy had more than likely moved on. It had been 5 years. But there was a part of Sal that still held on to hope. That hope was now blown to smithereens in a painful blast to his heart.

"Oh, this is Sal. Old 118. Sal this is my boyfriend Evan." Buck reached out his hand to shake Sal's.

"Buck. Everyone calls me Buck."

"It's, uh.. Good to meet you." He scanned the man in front of him. He was taller than himself, and leaner though still muscular like him. He had dirty blonde hair also like him. Tommy definitely had a type.

"Im starving. We should order food." Buck told Tommy.

They sat back at the table as to scan the bar menu. Tommy arm was across Bucks shoulder as they pointed to things and discussed what they were going to order. There was a domesticity to their body language. An easy closeness. One that Sal had Tommy once had a long time ago. Tommy was happy. Anybody with eyes could see that.

The last little piece of hope hidden deep inside Sal's heart floated away.