#like. it sounded a bit like the opening sting for the dr who theme from 2005 and I thought that was the tardis landing and bringing

[david-watts]

it reached almost 33 degrees here today probably higher because the weather station’s all the way out by the fucking river and it’s always milder than it actually is lol anyway I was just thinking ‘man my room would be Literally unliveable if I didn’t have air conditioning’ and then I thought ‘well this house was built somewhere around 1960 so when they built it they wouldn’t have had air conditioning so I can deal with it’ not only did fans exist and arguably the fans from then were probably better than the piece of shit from kmart that I had once considering that they hadn’t quite yet discovered they could make the absolute worst thing to sell for cheap. but also I looked up the 1966 temperature records (from a previous location that’s more accurate to here, they didn’t have 1960 though. I actually should’ve done 1967 since that’s when we moved here but oh well) and not only did it only get above thirty twice, and only about seven times did it get above twenty-seven. for the whole year. we’ve had five days above that this month. and most days in the really hot months of the year was twenty to twenty-four degrees. THAT’S COOL FOR JANUARY NOW.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Tying to Me — Part IV

Summary: Band-aids don't fix bulletholes, but kind eyes and even kinder acts might just mend broken hearts.

Content Warning: References to their hookup, a kiss, running themes of infidelity

Word Count: 4300

Author’s Note: I am so sorry for this taking a very long time! I hope to have the last part out soon! Thank you to @reidslibrarybook for proofreading this & quelling my anxieties. I love you so much dude. The italics denotes a flashback, roughly two years before the start of the story.

Series Masterlist | Part III

PART IV — My Pain Fits in The Palm of Your Freezing Hand

The snow didn’t seem to want to let up. From midnight to well into the following afternoon the snow blanketed her small front yard, covering the sidewalks and street of the suburban little street. It was mostly a quiet neighborhood; people kept to themselves for the most part. The Millers, an elderly couple who lived to the left, were particularly quiet. The wife, Zelda, had a very successful garden and handed out homegrown vegetables every summer, even if she was a little bit of a recluse Her husband, Alan, was even more secluded than his wife. To the right lived the Reids. The wife, she hardly ever sees. If she remembers correctly, Y/N thinks the husband’s name is Stephen or Spencer, she’s not too sure, works odd hours too. They’ll wave tiredly as they pass in the driveway, him leaving for work, but her coming home from her frim. If the neighborhood gossip is correct, he’s an FBI agent of sorts.

The quiet neighborhood seemed even quieter as the snow fell and fell. It was so quiet out there that Y/N could swear she could hear each snowflake drop. Her face stung from the cold, but her hands burned from wearing her old woolen mittens. Looking into the house, the television flickered through the window. Sighing to herself, Y/N walked back to the house, tapping the snow off her boots as she opened the door, finding James exactly where she left him: drinking and watching the game.

“Honey,”

“Honey,”

“James” she says, finally grabbing his attention with a clipped tone, “I need help,”

“After the game,”

“James, it’s getting bad and I need to get to work tomorrow. And you know that the sidewalks have to be clear…”

“I told you after the game,” James responds, not even looking up from the television. The commercial blares in their living room, the smell of snow and Ice Melt stinging her nose, but not as much as her heart aches at James’ dismissal.

“Fine,” Y/N says, turning on her heel and grabbing her shovel, “It’s just that it’s not letting up and I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning—”

“After the game,”

The cold air feels refreshing against her face. She tears off the scarf she has wrapped around her neck. Maybe it’s James’, maybe it’s hers. They’ve been together so long that she’s not sure if things are hers or his or theirs anymore. Recently it’s seemed like it’s been more divided than united.

Shouldering herself, Y/N scoops up a pile of snow in the shovel, tossing it into the yard. Working out in the cold, as the snow falls gracefully into place, is probably the most peace she’s gotten in months. Maybe it’s James’ inability to acknowledge their partnership that makes her feel like she’s drowning. No, maybe not drowning, not yet at least, maybe more like treading water. Barely keeping her head above the waves.

“Hey, neighbor,”

Startled by the voice, and maybe hoping that it’s James more than she’d like, Y/N turns to the sound. It’s her neighbor to the right, Stephen or Spencer. He looks younger than he actually is, with rosy cheeks from the cold and wild hair from the wind. He has a shovel in hand as he smiles at her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Y/N,” he says, “It’s Dr. Reid, I mean, Spencer from next door. Bec and I just moved in a couple months ago so we didn’t really have time to introduce ourselves. I saw you out here alone so I thought I’d help,”

Spencer, she thinks, leaving a note in her brain to not forget his name or his kind eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispers, unable to find her voice, “I really appreciate that, Spencer,”

He doesn’t respond, just smiling a kind of straight lipped smile that’s strangely endearing. Y/N wonders if he can see the television flickering in the window or if the pain in her eyes shows too much about her drowning, treading marriage. Even if he can tell, Spencer doesn’t show it. He nods and starts to shovel.

“You look cold,” Y/N says, walking through the short yard for the scarf, “Here, Spencer,” she says, wrapping the warm scarf around his neck.

“Thank you, Y/N. It’s well made” Spencer says, turning to brush off her car with his ice scraper, “I know how to knit too,”

“Oh, I made that old thing years ago,” Y/N says, “I can’t remember if it’s James’ or mine. Well it’s more mine, because James thinks it’s hideous. But I’m trying to make Aster a one for her when she comes,” she finishes, patting her lower stomach out of habit as she talks.

“You’re having a baby? You and your husband, I mean,” Spencer asks, a hidden layer of something that Y/N can’t quite read flashing before his eyes.

“Yes, I’m due in 4 months,” Y/N says, smiling as she talks, “She’s been such an easy baby so far”

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Spencer says, “it’s too cold for you, and you should be resting,”

When she looks back on this for years to come, Y/N will swear to herself that it’s the cold that makes her eyes sting. Glancing downward, she refuses to meet Spencer’s eyes, no matter how kind they seem to be.

“I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning,” Y/N says, “and I need the snow to be cleared. If I’m not going to do it who will,”

“Me,”

“I can’t—” Y/N says, feeling her voice catch in her throat. Standing out there in the cold with Spencer’s red cheeks and kind eyes looking back at her, she’s never felt so small, “You are very kind, Spencer, but I’m not going inside,”

“Alright, so tell me about your baby,” he says, making her chuckle as she swallows her tears— and pride.

They don’t say much as they work. Maybe he prefers the quiet too, being alone with their thoughts is peaceful in a way. When he finishes, Spencer waves goodbye, brushing off her 'thank yous' like her husband should have brushed off the snow from their cars.

Normally, she hates the sunlight on her face. It gives her a headache. But right now, with the heavy weight of an arm around her upper half and the warmth of his head buried in her neck, Y/N swears she can learn to love it. Spencer’s patterned breathing threatens to lull her asleep again. She’s so tired that she just might take the offer, but she knows that Aster will be crying shortly.

It might sound a little ridiculous, but it wasn’t until she watched him sleep for a second time that Y/N realized how beautiful Spencer really is. His hair is magnificent. With golden strands littered in between a warm brown. She knows how soft it is, but finds herself wanting to touch it again, just to make sure. Even though she can’t see his eyes, she knows exactly that they are deep brown, sometimes green. And his hands. They are so strong and sturdy, yet they are soft and gentle. Y/N can tell that his goodness radiates out from his hands. He extended them to her last night like a lifeline.

Y/N does a double check, making sure they both have their clothes on. It’s not that she doesn’t want to sleep with Spencer, or that when they did sleep together it was awful. It’s the opposite. She just really rather not sleep with him when she’s crying over James and a bottle of red wine.

Spencer sturs next to her. He slept like a rock, holding her tightly as they dreamed side by side. Y/N wonders if he’ll stay for breakfast, or if he’ll sneak out like she did. Spencer moves his hand up her torso, his hand slipping under her shirt. His fingertips skim across her bare skin. She can hardly breathe. His hands are so warm and she’s starved for them. He must still be sleeping because his movements are too uncoordinated for him to be awake.

Or not.

“Did you sleep well?” Spencer asks, his voice gravely with sleep. It’s an addictive sound, “Your bed is much more comfortable than mine. It’s actually proven by sleep scientists that a supportive mattress correlates with general well being. Sleep is one of the most important things you can do for your health….Sorry, am I rambling-”

“Yes, but it’s cute,” she says, reaching forward to brush the stray hair that falls across his forehead, “I didn’t do any research either. I just went into the store and picked the most expensive one. James would have had a fit. I think it’s some kind of cathartic release doing things that would piss him off,”

Like sleeping with Spencer. And enjoying it. Enjoying it too much. The restraint in his voice telling her more than the exact words ever could. Sitting up in her bed, Y/N covers her hand over Spencer’s. The drunken memories of last night come rushing back, as does the embarrassment of practically begging him to sleep with her again.

“Right,” Spencer says, bringing her back to Earth. “I don’t think I’ve been called cute since I was like 5 and that was my mother,” his cheeks turn red and his eyes meet Y/N’s in something that could only be described as bashful.

“You are cute,” she says, feeling a need to fill the silence before she says something about last night that she’ll end up regretting, even if it’s the truth.

Spencer sits up, still wearing his clothes from the night before. His shirt is wrinkled and his pants have creases in them from sleeping in them, but nothing is as messy as his hair. Oddly, it suits him. His messy hair, wild and unruly, makes him look more peaceful in a strange way. She’s thinking too much about his hair; about her fingers in his hair.

She casts her gaze down, avoiding his gentle eyes for his hands that bunch some of her sheet. Which, in hindsight, isn’t the best choice. His hands, like nearly every part of him, are distracting in all the wrong ways.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she mumbles. She had too much to drink last night, drunk called Spencer and nearly begged him to sleep with her again, “It’s not like me. I don’t want you to think of me like that. Well, not not like that. But you know, not all sad and drunk and crying and begging you to sleep with me. What I am trying to say, Spencer, is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for taking advantage of you, you’re hurting too,”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Y/N,” Spencer says, his voice telling her that he believes what he says. He makes her look him in the eyes, holding her chin up with his fingertips, “We all have our moments that we’re not proud of. You’re strong, smart and an amazing mother. I think you’re incredible,” he says, his hands moving over to yours. They are warm and his palms are soft. His skin against his is bad, but not nearly as bad as the kind words he whispers.

He can’t whisper those wonderful things as he’s basking in the sunlight, wrapped in her sheets. He can’t say those things and not expect her to call him up again, but completely sober. Then again, part of her wonders if Spencer’s also starved for kind words and soft lips to kiss. She wonders how long it’s been for him to feel safe and cared for. Has it been as long as it’s been for her? It’s a strange comfort knowing that Spencer is all too familiar with lonely gray nights and the empty feeling of very being enough for the one person who’s enough for you.

“I think you’re pretty incredible too, neighbor,” she says, her voice coming out more raspy than she intended. Maybe it’s because she’s holding back. She’s holding back because she’s terrified; terrified of moving on and getting hurt again. Or hurting Spencer. Or Aster. There’s a lot swimming around in her head and it’s near impossible to concentrate on anything when Spencer holds her hand and rubs his thumb against her skin.

Spencer’s head inches closer and closer to Y/N’s. His hands dragging up her arm, the warmth from his palms burning her bare skin. He’s going to kiss her. He’s going to kiss her and they’re not even drunk. They’re not even seeking revenge against their ex-spouses.

It’s almost comical.

Aster, with the best timing in the world, screams from her bedroom. Y/N jumps from the bed like she was struck by lightning. Her startled reaction nearly causes Spencer to topple over in the bed, but he, rather ungracefully, catches himself before he falls onto the floor.

“I’m so sorry. It’s just, Aster and-” she stammers, rushing out the bedroom. She doesn’t stick around to see Spencer’s pink tinged cheeks or his huff of disappointment. Spencer, nodding awkwardly, waves her off, understanding completely, because of course he does.

Once she’s in Aster’s room, Y/N smiles, leaving her embarrassment and anxiety in her bedroom. Aster, a generally happy baby, cries in her crib. Seeing her mother, she tries to stand up, holding onto the bars before falling onto the small mattress with a thump. She smiles gleefully, entertained by herself.

“Oh no!” Y/N says happily, her voice raising a couple octaves in the way it does when she’s around Aster, “Are you hungry, baby? Are you hungry?”

Aster laughs delightfully, raising her hands and practically demanding for Y/N to pick her up. She scoops her up, balancing her on her hip as she bounds down the stairs. Aster looks around at the pictures on the wall, some of Y/N and her mom, her sister and Aster, and even some with Aster and James. Y/N wanted to make their house without James seem as much like home as it could for Aster.

Walking into the kitchen, Y/N doesn’t expect to find Spencer opening the cabinets. Aster coos happily on her hip, excited to have a guest in the morning. Usually it’s Liz, but Spencer’s familiar enough for her to recognize him.

“I thought I’d make you coffee,” Spencer says, “You know, as you’re getting Aster ready,” he adds, nodding towards the tin of coffee grounds he brought out from the cabinets.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she whispers, disliking how much she’s taken aback by the kind gesture. She can’t remember the last time someone made her coffee to make her morning run a little smoother. Y/N isn’t exactly sure what her relationship with Spencer is, especially after last night, but it doesn’t seem fair to compare him to James. There’s history with James. Murky, complex, difficult history. But history nonetheless.

“It’s nothing,” Spencer says, “I know from JJ, my friend, how busy mornings are.” He tosses some coffee grounds into the coffee pot, along with some tap water. He moves around the tiny kitchen like he somehow knows where everything is already, “I also wanted to apologize for this morning. It was inappropriate to try to kiss you. I know you’re still reeling from James,”

“Spencer, you’re not the one that drunk called last night. And maybe we can just forget about what happened this morning,” she asks, the embarrassment of wanting him to kiss her, but the guilt of moving on too soon bubbles to the surface. As it seems, there’s no right answer for getting over a heartbreak.

She moves about the kitchen, getting Aster’s breakfast ready as Spencer stares intently at the coffee pot. Aster babbles happily in her highchair, looking around at the kitchen with wonder and awe. Spencer glances over to her, clearly interested. It’s amusing. From block parties, Y/N knows that Spencer is good with babies and children. He’d usually have a gaggle of children swarming him as he performed magic trick after magic trick.

“She won’t bite, you know,” Y/N says, teasing Spencer as she puts a small bowl of cereal on Aster’s tray. She grabs the cereal, pushing into her mouth hungerly. He watches her with a smile, pulling a seat next to the high chair.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a baby at the BAU,” Spencer says, “Michael is JJ's youngest. I haven’t been around him as long as I’ve been around with Henry. She’s such a fun age right now,” he continues, “But I was in jail, I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, Y/N. So I missed out on a lot of good memories,”

“I heard,”

“I’m innocent, innocent of that at least,” Spencer says with a somber smile, “I did things I’m not proud of, Y/N. Terrible, terrible things to survive. And, you know, sometimes I wonder if it was worth it all,” Spencer finishes, thanking her silently for the cup of steaming coffee she hands him.

“Spencer, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near Aster if I didn’t think you were anything but a wonderfully kind and gentle man. We’ve all been through bad times, you more than most, but it’s okay to hurt from them. To still be confused by them. Someone really smart told me we all have our moments that we aren’t proud of,”

She doesn’t want to let herself get swept away by his boyish smile that peeks out from underneath his sleepless eye bags, yet she finds herself reaching out to squeeze his hand three times. It seems like a lot of their interactions can happen without words. Spencer’s eyes, kind and bright, are a more fulfilling kind of temptation. Sitting there with Aster babbling in the high chair spilling Cheerios on the floor and hot coffee in their hands all Y/N could think of is how sweet it would have been if it had been Spencer all along.

“You’re a very good person, Y/N,” Spencer whispers, his voice cracking as he continues. He doesn’t let go of her hand, something tells her that he needs to hold it to remind him he’s still fighting, “Not maybe people can handle my quirks, my past, and me if I’m being honest,”

“That’s their loss,”

Spencer chuckles, trying his best to keep himself together as Y/N stands next to him sitting on the kitchen chair. She can see his old house, now empty, from the kitchen. It’s as if that night that changed everything had never happened. The two houses still look the same. Her’s blue with gray shutters and Spencer’s yellow with white shutters. Their lawns are covered with flowers and a tall tree in the corner. Everything looks the same, while everything has changed. She would never have thought that it would take losing everything to find herself again.

Just as Y/N’s about to ask Spencer if he’d want to take a walk to the local diner for breakfast, the kitchen light flickers. In an attempt to keep her cool, Y/N closes her eyes in frustration.

“Damnit,” she mutters, under her breath as she leaves Spencer’s side. Her hand feels strangely cool without his skin pressed up against her skin. She never thought she could crave someone’s touch like she craves Spencer’s, “I’m going to literally–”

“Do you need help with something?” Spencer says, standing up. He follows Y/N’s line of sight to the flickering light fixture on the ceiling, “Oh, I got that,” he adds, “I’ll need a screwdriver to open the fixture and maybe we’ll need to screw the bulb in a bit tighter. If not, I’ll take a ride to the hardware store and get a new lightbulb for you,”

Spencer has a nervous habit of licking his lips when nervous. He does it now, staring at her as her brain tries to process someone doing something for her. The last thing she wants, as they stand so close, is to be distracted by his lips.

“You’d do that? You’d do that for me?” Y/N asks, knowing it’s useless to hide her shock from someone as observant as Spencer, “I mean, you don’t have to do that Spencer. It’s been like that for months, maybe years. You don’t want to know how many times I’ve asked James to fix it for me. I mean, you don’t have to do it, Spencer. I don’t want you to go out of your way for me,”

“I’d love to–”

“I’m sure you’re busy–”

“I have the day off,” he replies, waving off her protest as he sips the coffee, “This coffee is excellent by the way. Where’s the ladder?”

“Left closet down the hall,” Y/N answers, sitting back down in the chair as she watches Spencer walk off down the hall. She rubs her thumb across the corner of Aster’s mouth, wiping off the crumbs from the Cheerios. Aster giggles as she tosses the cereal over the tray and onto the ground.

“Silly girl,” Y/N says, picking up the pieces as Spencer comes back into the room with the ladder.

“It’s really fine, Spencer. I’m sure I can figure it out–”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, the firm way he says her name catching her off guard, “I like doing things for you. I can tell you’re not used to it, so get used to it,” he says, his charming smile leaving her too flustered to respond.

“Fine,” Y/N says, pretending that this whole thing is more of a favor to Spencer than to her, “At least hand me the cap so it doesn’t fall on your head,” she adds, taking the fixture from his hands and placing it on the table.

Spencer’s quiet as he works, tightening the light bulb in it’s socket. Like magic, it flickers once and finally illuminates to it’s full brightness. Letting a yelp of joy, Y/N jumps up, nearly knocking Spencer off the ladder. He starts to climb down, carefully putting each foot in the rung below as he descends. Y/N, despite her eager celebration at the working light, notices Spencer’s smile.

“Thank you,” Y/N says, reaching up to hug Spencer as he stands on the first rung, balancing carefully, “I know I could have done it myself, or gotten Liz over here, but it’s just–”

“You wanted someone to do something nice for you” Spencer says. She ignores the way his breath hitches when she rests her head against his body, choosing to push away the way her entire body aches for him, aches from someone to love her, “I like doing nice things for the people that matter to me,”

“I matter to you?” she asks, hating the way her voice sounds like a meak wallflower. She never was shy around people when it came to romantic interactions. If she could even call what she has with Spencer romantic, or rather, if they have anything at all.

It happens in half a second, maybe less. Spencer, just as he’s about reply, comes tumbling down the ladder. Luckily, he’s only barely a foot off the ground. Unluckily, when you’re over 6 feet tall and as gangly as a teenager, any kind of fall is hard and fast.

“Ooof,” Spencer says, steadying himself on the nearest “thing”, which just happens to be Y/N’s waist. His hands, in his attempt to catch himself, lifted her shirt a bit from her hips leaving some skin exposed. Spencer’s large hands cover the expanse of her bare skin. His hands are warm, warmer than her already warm skin. He grips tightly and she’s not sure if it’s because he wants to or because he has to. Spencer’s face, in the fifteen seconds that it lasts, is so close to her face that she can see the small wrinkles in the creases of his eyes. Spencer has beautiful eyes, kind eyes. And warm hands, very warm, very big hands that are brushing up against her skin–

His face is getting closer, much closer. Crows feet. That’s what the lines in the corners of his eyes are called. Whatever they're called, they look beautiful on him. As his face grows closer, Y/N knows that he’s going to kiss her and she’s going to let him. Even if they both have morning breath and Aster’s throwing cereal at the ground.

When he kisses her it’s not like any kiss she’s ever received. Her husband used to kiss her with excitement, but soon that morphed into a chore. The first time Spencer kissed her it was hungry, mainly teeth with an undercurrent of anger rushing through both their veins. But now, Spencer kisses her like he’ll do it for the rest of his life. His hands, much to her disappointment, leave her the bare skin of her hips for her cheeks. Spencer holds her, keeping her steady as he catches her bottom lip between his lips. Pulling gently, Y/N chokes down a whimper and feels a shudder travel from her head to her toes.

Just as she feels his hands make their way to the back of her head, Spencer pulls away. He rests his head against her forehead, his eyes studying her face like he wants to commit her to memory.

“You matter to me,” Spencer whispers, leaning back in for a kiss. Y/N catches his self assured smirk as she giggles into his mouth, kissing her again, but this time in the daylight.

-TAGLIST-

@alexontheinternet @livvieclinestarkeys @winterwhore @reidslibrarybook @sleepyspencer @beepbooptoop @reidsbookclub @acoolnight @cuddlyklaus @givemeth @donald4spiderman @uhuhuh @fightingdragonswithreid @nessy-nygma @meghan52300 @shirleyrose @royalestrellas @outlawedmando @mimischaos @obislut @grogygrunge @kirencer @spencerreidsmommy @answer-the-sirens @mynameberose @clownboy-yeehonk @sassymoon @reidsacademia @boldlyvoid @shemarmooresfedora @kahootlobbymusic @spencerreidat3am @drayshadow

[moon-light-jukebox]

“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 10 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // next chapter 

Summary: Another morning after. After Dr. Reid’s declaration last night everything feels different. Reader quickly proves that some things never change when our good Doctor forgets the rules. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature

Category: Smut with a healthy dose of Fluff. 

Content Warning: Smut, BDSM themes, Femdom, impact play (slapping and spanking), choking, unprotected sex. 

Word Count: 4.1k for Chapter 10. 

A/n: Early today, I decided to split Chapter 10. This series will now have 11 chapters and an epilogue. I want to thank all of you that follow along and have sent me sweet message this week. I hope this chapter is everything I wanted it to be.

-- Chapter 10 - “Why are you being punished, Dr. Reid?”-- 

Every night since I was shot, I had dreamed of being whole. Losing Spencer had been unbelievably painful and healing from my gunshot wound was painful but losing faith in myself after all of that happened is what threatened to shatter me. I had kept everyone at a distance for so long, never letting anyone beyond these walls I had put up to keep my heart safe. It was hard to live with the thought that my judgment was so bad, my instincts were so off that I had trusted this beautiful man with his warm brown eyes and soft curly hair…I had trusted him, and he hadn't been what I thought he was. Ever since that night in my hospital room, my world felt fractured and heavy.

I could tell the world was different this morning before I even opened my eyes. The heavy fog that seemed to cloak my entire existence for the past month was no longer weighing me down.

Last night I let Spencer Reid into more than my room. I let him into my heart, I was trusting him to not hurt me again. I knew that these decisions would make my world different, but I hadn’t expected that my acceptance of his love would mend something inside of me that was broken long before I met him.

I told him I’d break all my rules for him, and he wrapped me in his arms and pressed his lips to mine. Spencer kissed me like I was the answer to a problem he never thought he could solve. My soul ached when his lips brushed against mine, but that ache was a sweet one, filled with hope and promise. For the first time in such a long time, I felt no pain.

When I imagined our reunion, I thought we would have been frantic in our need for each other. But all I had felt in that moment was just the desire to be with him. My world felt right for the first time in such a long time. I had fallen asleep in Dr. Spencer Reid’s arms, totally content as the sound of his heartbeat under my ear that rested on his chest lulled me to sleep.

We had separated slightly in the night. Spencer was still on his back, but I had rolled away from him at some point in the few hours we’d been asleep. You wouldn’t imagine that such a skinny man could radiate the kind of heat he did. We weren’t touching, but his right arm was reached towards me. Even in his sleep, he was still seeking me out, and the sight pulled at my heart. My wonderful, wonderful Spencer.

“It’s impolite to stare,” he grumbled, never opening his eyes. “Plus, it’s so dark in here you can’t even see me.”

I giggled, which caused a smile to tug the corners of his mouth. “You haven’t opened your eyes yet; you don’t know how dark the room is.” The teasing note left my voice when I told him the truth. “And…I wasn’t sure you were real,” I whispered. “I wanted to memorize your face just in case this had all been a dream.”

Spencer reached out to grab my arm, pulling me closer to his body. I nestled up against him while he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “I promise you I’m very real.” He stretched his lean body out before letting out a monstrous yawn. “And now that you’ve let me love you, it’s going to be nearly impossible to get rid of me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I pulled back slightly, turning my face up to better see his.

His hand moved up to my face, his fingertips tracing over my cheek. “It’s not a bad thing for me, but you might get annoyed.”

I chuckled. “Are you saying you’re needy?”

My darling doctor simply nodded.

I lifted up on my elbow and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’m sure you remember how well I can handle needy boys.”

Spencer groaned, then turned his head to the left so he could look at the clock on the nightstand. “We have to meet the rest of the team at 8 in the lobby. It’s 5:45 right now.”

“I’m very impressed that you can tell time, Dr. Reid.”

His bottom lip jutted out in a pout when he faced me again. “You can’t tease me like that.”

My index finger ran down between his eyes, over his nose, tracing the outline of his lips before I turned my hand, my thumb and forefinger gripping his chin. “I can do whatever the fuck I want, Dr. Reid. Or did you forget that?”

“No, Miss,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “I didn’t.”

“Miss, huh?” I teased. “Is that what you want?”

His eyes ran over my face, searching for something. “If y-you do,” he stammered out. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know things can’t just go back to how they were before but…”

I smiled at him. “But you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of me fucking your brains out?”

Spencer smiled, a tinge of pink appearing on the apples of his cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll ever be opposed to that.”

Leaning closer, I brushed my lips against his. “Have you missed me, Dr. Reid?”

“More than you can even imagine.” The sincerity laced in his words made me pull back, my eyes moving to meet his.

“I missed you too, my darling boy. So, so much.” I rolled my body up so I could swing my leg over his hips, my panty covered pussy pressing against his groin. Spencer was already a little hard, so the friction caused by my movements pulled a whimper from him. I leaned down to press a kiss to his well-defined jaw before nipping the skin with my teeth. “But you really missed this, didn’t you?” I ground against his growing arousal to prove my point.

Spencer’s hands came up to grip my hips, guiding my rocking against him. “What do you want, Dr. Reid?” I asked, my hands coming down to grab his own, pulling them off my body and pushing them over his head. My boy’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth, his wide eyes rapidly scanning over every inch of me.

When he didn’t immediately answer, I let out a sigh. I sat up, looking down at him. Surely you haven’t forgotten already, baby.

“Dr. Reid, we’ve talked about this. When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.” Bringing my right hand up, I quickly let it fall against his cheek, the sound of the sharp slap rang out into the silence of the room.

His cheek was bright red, his pupils blown in lust. “I’m sorry Miss.” Spencer’s hips lifted slightly, grinding against my heat. “I-I want to fuck you again, Miss.”

I smirked. “I’m sure you do, Dr. Reid. But, I’m not sure you deserve it.”

"Please," he whined. "Please, Miss. I need you."

“No, Dr. Reid,” I murmured, leaning over him again, my lips a breath away from his own. “You don’t need me yet, you just want me. But don’t worry, I’ll show you what it’s like to need me.” I kissed him softly. “Do you remember your safe words?”

“Yes Miss,” he breathed, his head jerking in a nod.

I flashed him a bright smile before I moved off of him. Let the games begin, baby. “Good. Take your clothes. Lay in the center of the bed. Now.”

He scrambled to comply with my orders while I moved off the bed completely, walking over to my suitcase. I grabbed one of my thin belts that I always kept in my go bag but rarely wore. I tugged on the leather material, running my fingers over its softness. I didn’t spare Spencer a glance when I tossed it down onto the bed. I faced the bed and began slowly peeling off my clothes, not missing the soft groan I heard come from my boy.

Spencer had followed my instructions perfectly, his beautiful angular body was bared to my gaze. His cock was already hard and resting against his thigh.

“Turn over, I want you on your hands and knees.”

His breathing stuttered, his eyes snapping up to my face. “W-what?”

“You heard me, Dr. Reid.” I picked up my belt, folding it in half, resting the fold in the palm of my left hand. “How many times have I told you that when I ask you a question, I want an answer? Clearly, the message isn't sinking in, baby." I smirked at him, enjoying how he was squirming. "So, we're going to try another way."

Spencer’s face was flushed, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

“You can safe word if you don’t want to do this, Spencer,” I said softly, breaking the scene a bit; my boy was still so new to this. The thought of him being uncomfortable with something was unbearable to me. “I won’t be upset. I’ll punish you some other way.”  You know I would never give you more than you could handle, baby.

“I w-want to try it,” he whispered. “But what if I don’t like it?”

“Then you say yellow,” I said simply, my eyes fixed on his. “We’ll move on. Or you can say red and we’ll stop.”

He nodded before pushing up off of the bed, rolling over to get on his hands and knees. I smiled. My darling, darling boy. Before he rolled over completely, I noticed that his neck was flushed, a tell-tale sign of how he was feeling. “Are you embarrassed, Dr. Reid?”

“Yes Miss,” he mumbled.

I moved closer to him, resting on my knees, my right hand gripping the back of his thigh before sliding upwards. “Is it because you’re ass in the air for me? Are you embarrassed for me to see you like this, Dr. Reid?”

He nodded, causing me to scowl. I brought my open palm down against one of his ass cheeks. “You know, for such a smart boy who can’t stop talking any other time, you certainly seem to have a problem answering my questions.” He let out a yelp at the sting of my hand.

I moved the hand that had spanked him up to grip his curls, yanking his head upwards. “You will learn to answer me, Dr. Reid. Is that clear?”

“Yes Miss,” he replied, his voice strangled by his own desire and embarrassment. I saw how his cock hung between his legs, still so hard precum was leaking. I knew you’d be like this, my nervous boy.

With one more sharp tug, I released his hair. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, baby. Not with me, you know that. The next time I fuck this little ass, I’m going to fuck it while you’re like this. I’m going to grab your hips and slam my cock into you. But only after you beg me for it.” Spencer moaned at my words, his body tensing. “Is that what you want, Dr. Reid? Do you want me to shove your face into the pillow and fuck you like the slut you are?”

"Yes, Miss. Please."

I brought my hand down against his ass again, softer this time. “Good.” I moved the belt into my right hand. “I’m going to punish you now, Dr. Reid.” I ran the leather of my belt up the back of his thighs, over his cute little ass. “Why am I punishing you?”

“Because I didn’t answer your questions.” His response was immediate. Progress.

"I'm going to strike you 5 times, Dr. Reid. After every strike, you will count them out loud for me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss."

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll reward you when we’re done.” I leaned over, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as a sign of reassurance. “Ask me to punish you, Dr. Reid.”

He whined the sound was a mix of deep need and arousal, but also a tinge of uncertainty. "Please, punish me, Miss. Please."

I pulled the belt away from his body. I looked him over one final time before I brought the belt down quickly, striking where his ass met his thighs. He yelped slightly at the sensation, his body shifting forward. “Count, Dr. Reid.”

“One,” he gritted out, his fingers twisting in the sheets. I could almost feel his embarrassment. But, after he counted the first strike he pushed his ass back, silently asking for more.

“Such a dirty, dirty boy,” I whispered, so quietly I’m not even sure he heard me. I gave him a moment before I lashed out again.

“Two.”

My third strike was less intense, but it went over the area that I had already hit.

“Three,” he whined out.

“You’re doing so good, Dr. Reid,” I praised. “Your ass looks so pretty like this. I wish we were home so I could give it the proper attention it deserves.” I brought the belt down again.

“Four,” he cried.

“Why are you being punished, Dr. Reid?”

“Because I didn’t answer you when you asked me a question, Miss.” His voice was a thick, pathetic whimper; his hips were shifting desperately. Even if he didn’t understand it himself, his body wanted this.

“And have you learned your lesson?”

He nodded franticly before his head dropped. "Yes, Miss."

I brought my belt down one final time. I could feel my own arousal starting to coat my thighs at the sight of him. His ass was pink, his cock was hard, and his fingers were gripping the sheets so tightly the veins in his hands were visible beneath his skin.

“Five,” he said, his voice almost a broken sob.

I kissed his shoulder, my hand moving over his ass to soothe the tender skin. "I'm so proud of you Spencer. So proud of you. You're such a good boy." I peppered his back with kisses.

My nervous boy looked up at me, a sheen of tears in his eyes. My heart squeezed. “Are you alright, baby?”

He nodded. “Green. Green, Miss. I need you so much.”

I dropped the belt on the bed, my fingers going to his hair to pull him upright. "I know you do, my greedy boy.” My mouth met his in a hungry kiss while my other hand went down to run over his cock, causing him to release a strangled moan into my mouth.

Pulling away from the kiss, I waited until his eyes fluttered open before I spoke. “I’m going to reward you now, darling boy. I want you to lay down on your back and let me fuck you.” I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes Miss,” he whimpered out, nodding his head, which only caused his hair to pull against my grip. “Please.”

I released him, letting him lie on his back. I straddled his hips, my dripping pussy hovering over his cock while I lined us up. “You can touch me, Dr. Reid. You’ve been such a good boy.” With that, I quickly sank onto his cock, taking him to the hilt in one movement.

“Oh my god,” he groaned loudly, his head was thrashing against the pillows, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I was sure I’d have bruises.

“Do you feel how wet my pussy is, Dr. Reid?” I leaned over him bracing one hand beside his head, but the other I placed over his throat.

"Yes, Miss. You feel so good." His hips started to raise up to meet my motions. "I need you so much."

I smirked down at him. “I always know what you need Dr. Reid." I watched his face carefully before I applied some slight pressure to his carotid artery. His eyes fluttered; his hips jerked slightly. “I know you need to feel my hot, tight, little pussy cum all over your cock. I know you need for me to fuck you so hard you cum deep inside of me. Do you need to fill my pussy up with your cum, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer was experiencing an onslaught of sensations at that moment, I’m sure. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when he brought his hand up to tap against the one on his throat. I removed my hand immediately, leaning over to press a kiss against the side of his mouth. “Good boy.”

He whined loudly while he pushed me down more forcefully on his cock, trying to accelerate my motions. "Please, Miss. I need that. I need to feel you cum around me.”

I kissed him properly, my teeth catching his bottom lip, tugging harshly. “Then make me cum, Dr. Reid.”

His hand went in between our bodies, bringing his thumb to the crest of me to circle my clit. My mouth broke away from his in a harsh moan while my walls fluttered around him.

Spencer moaned so loudly I wouldn’t be surprised if someone in the next room could hear him. “Fuck, Miss I’m so close.” His circles against my clit sped up. “Please, please let me cum.”

I felt my orgasm quickly rising up inside me. Seeing this beautiful man so fucking desperate for me was one of the sexiest things I had ever seen. “Cum for me, pretty boy. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Something inside him snapped at my words. His fingers gripped my hips so hard it hurt, he slammed me down onto his cock, while he chanted my name almost frantically while he fell over the edge.

The feeling of him losing himself inside of me sent me over the edge. My pussy clamped down on his cock while my mouth opened in a silent scream. Spencer’s body jerked underneath mine with the last tremors of his orgasm. When I started to come down, I collapsed onto him, pressing kisses to every inch of his skin I could reach. “You did so well, Spencer,” I praised between kisses.

Knowing I needed to hurry, and silently cursing myself for not planning out the aftercare a bit better, I lifted off of his body. I was watching my boy closely, so I saw the wince he gave when his cock slipped from me, coated in a mixture of both of our releases. Making my way to the bathroom, I wet two washcloths before dashing back into the bedroom.

Spencer was still on his back, his breathing was even but his eyes still looking a bit dazed. “Are you okay, Spence?” I asked, gingerly cleaning him up with one of the rags.

He licked his lips, his eyes finding mine. “I-I think so,” he said softly. “It doesn’t feel like the first time, but it still feels…”

I tossed the rag on the floor before using the second one to clean myself up. "I know, darling boy.” I laid down with him, bringing the covers up to shield our bodies. “You couldn’t have done better, Spencer. I’m so proud of you.���

He seemed to shine in the light of my praise. “Thank you, y/n.” He pressed a soft kiss to the skin between my eyebrows.

After a few moments, I asked, "Can you get up for me? We need to clean up properly so I can put some lotion on your cute little butt.”

He chuckled at that. “It sounds like an excuse to touch it again.”

I nodded, not trying to keep the smile off my face. “You’ve found me out, Dr. Reid. Everything I do is all part of an elaborate ruse to fondly your cute butt.”

--

After our shower, true to my word I had Spencer face down on the bed while I “fondled” him.

“This is humiliating,” he mumbled, his face pressed into a pillow.

“You’re gonna have to get over this, Doc. This ass is officially mine. This is not the last time you’ll be like this.” I finished my work by giving him a playful swat on his behind. “I’m done. You can cover your virtue now.”

After our shower, I had dressed and gone to Spencer's room to get his clothes. It was still early enough that I hadn't seen any of the team, but I don't think it would have mattered if I had. He was mine now, and our friends would find out soon enough. That thought warmed me to my core.

“So, how did you feel about the impact play?” I asked, once he was off the bed and getting dressed.

He flipped his hair out of his face, looking at me while he fastened his pants. “I liked it; I think. I don’t know that I’d like anything more extreme than that.” He reached for his shirt before he spoke again. “At least not yet.”

Yet? “Noted, Doc.”

“What about you?”

I quirked one of my brows at him. “I clearly liked it.”

Spencer smiled, shaking his head, his damp curls already starting to shift into his signature look of perpetual bedhead. “I meant how did you feel about making traditional sex a part of our…relationship?”

I paused, considering his words. Ever observant, Dr. Spencer Reid had noticed something I hadn't thought of yet. I hadn't had vaginal sex with a submissive during a scene in a long, long time.

“It felt…natural,” I said softly while he walked over to stand in front of me. His thumb caressed my cheek while he tilted my face up, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Everything feels easy with you, Spence.”

My boy’s smile could have lit up the whole room. “I love you so much,” he murmured, adoration dripping from his voice, before turning to finish getting ready.

Wait. I stood up quickly, walking over to him. “Spence.” He turned towards me, but in the way that he knew everything, he didn’t seem particularly surprised that I had gotten up so quickly.

“Realized something, have you?” He tucked my hair behind my ear, his face was so fucking tender while he looked down at me, his warm brown eyes were shining when he looked at me. I saw everything I had felt in my heart for so long reflected back at me in those remarkable eyes that belonged to the most remarkable man.  

He was right, I had realized something. I cupped his face in my hands, my voice shaky but strong. “You’re the brightest thing in any universe, Spencer Reid. And I love you, I love you, I love you.”

I thought our kiss last night was the best a kiss could get, but Dr. Reid quickly proved me wrong.

--

We didn’t see the rest of the team until we met them in the hotel lobby at 8 am. Spencer was carrying my bag and our fingers were laced together as we walked towards them.

JJ was the first one to spot us; she clapped her hands together before jumping to her feet. The rest of the team turned to see what she had noticed, only to have similar reactions.

We were quickly enveloped in hugs and showered with well wishes.

“I knew you had it in you, Pretty Boy!” Morgan had pulled Spencer into a tight hug. No sooner had Morgan released him than Rossi grabbed him, kissing both of his cheeks, looking every bit the proud father. We really don’t deserve Rossi, I thought, not for the first time.

Hotch offered me a brief hug, which startled me. “You’ll have some forms to fill out when we get back. Reid already filled out his.”

I smirked over at my boy. “Looking forward to it, Boss.”

--

Our plane was set to take off at 9 am, meaning we had to board at 8:30. I was still tired from all the sleep I hadn’t gotten last night. With that in mind, I made my way over to the couch, intending to stretch out for our flight back home. I found myself smiling when my boy approached me. He lifted my legs up with a feigned sigh before he sat down, once he was situated in his seat, he pulled my legs into his lap.

It was a few minutes later when he shifted in his seat, wincing slightly.

I pulled my lips between my teeth to contain a laugh. “Something wrong, Dr. Reid?”

He gave me a fake glare, his mouth twisting into a pout. “You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered.

I know, I thought. I know, I know, I know.

--

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[elena-reina]

I’m Not Hungry- Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request:  Could you do a draco malfoy one-shot where the reader has anorexia and gained weight. She gets a panic attack and he comforts her. Maybe it could end in soft smut or fluff (whatever you want). If this is to specific or my grammar is bad I'm sorry - Anon

Warnings: Anorexia, mature themes

Pushing your hair behind your ears, you stared at the mirror. You ran your hand over your flat stomach grimacing at the sight before you. Your eyes roam from your slim face, to your collar bone, all the way to your skinny legs. You shake your head in disappointment staring at your body.

You hated it.

Initially you went out with your friends prior and they ordered a lot of food without telling you. You thought you all were just hanging for drinks or something, but that wasn’t the case. There was a mini contest going on in the restaurant they brought you to and whoever finished the food under an hour got free food for one year around. 

You remember the exact moment when you decided you needed to lose weight. You were bullied a lot in your first, second, and third years by little boys thinking it was fun to make fun of your weight. You weren’t even overweight, but boys will be boys. Being called fat and ugly numerously, you eventually began to believe it, so it was in that moment you decided to lose weight. 

Miraculously, one day you stared dating Draco Malfoy. No one dared insult you around him and if he ever found out, he would immediately be on their asses. He would tell you how beautiful you were everyday and how much he loved you. You were very thankful for him.

But the damage had already been done. You made it your mission to lose weight.

At first, it was going to be a small diet as simple as cutting out sugary foods. And then it let to cutting out foods with fat in them. This then led to cutting out foods with too much sodium. And this continued until you basically stopped eating anything and eventually, you were living off of one carrot a day. 

You became so incredibly skinny that you couldn’t fit into most of your clothes. They were too loose on you. It brought a smile to your face, but you still wanted to lose more weight. 

No one really noticed since you were AWOL most of the time, and you were thankful for that. You hadn’t wanted anybody to know and you especially wanted to make sure that Draco never found out.

Shaking your head, you turned away from the mirror and grabbed your robe. You put it on and made your way to the Grand Hall. It was breakfast time and although you never really ate, you still sat by your boyfriend for reassurance.

You stood in the doorway looking over the tables until your eyes landed on that familiar head of platinum blonde hair. You slowly walked towards his direction. You felt as though everyone’s eyes were burning holes in your body. Becoming more insecure with each step, you stood behind Draco.

You placed your bony fingers on his shoulders and gave him a light squeeze. He looked up, meeting your gaze, and smiled. You leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. He scooted over making room for you as you slid in.

“Good Morning, gorgeous,” he whispered into your ear, wrapping his free arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. 

Draco knew something was wrong, but he didn’t want to bring anything up just yet. You were too tiny and it seemed to continue to decrease as the weeks went by. You smiled leaning into him, and rested your head on his shoulder.

Your eyes scanned all the food in front of you and it made your stomach growl. Draco felt it and chuckled a bit.

“Hungry, babe? What would you like?” he asked and you lifted your head from his shoulder. You sat up straighter, slightly distancing yourself and his grip on your waist loosened. 

You shook your head. “I’m not hungry.”

He rolled his eyes, not believe a word you said. He grabbed onto a few pieces of jammed toast and sausages and placed them onto the plate in front of you. You didn’t move, instead just stared at the food.

Draco eyed you suspiciously. “Y/N, eat. What’s wrong with you?” 

You shakily looked back at him. “I’m not feeling well,” you replied. He lifted his hand and placed it on your forehead, feeling your temperature. He shook his head.

“You feel fine. Just eat the food already,” he scoffed. By now the other Slytherin’s around you were focused on you. Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Pansy, and others were all watching you with interest. Draco, uninterested, continued to eat his food.

You lifted your hand and grabbed onto a piece of toast. You held it in your hand, but didn’t move. All you could do was stare at it.

Draco looked once more at you and this time kept his gaze fixed on you. You lifted the piece of toast to your mouth and took a small bite, slowly chewing it. Draco nodded, content, and went back to eating. Swallowing the food felt like swallowing rocks.

Your heart started to pound hard against your rib cage as you started to hyperventilate. You could hear the ringing of it beat and your chest was shaking because of it. Your breathing started to speed up faster as each second went by.

Crabbe, who was sitting across from you, sat up straighter silently trying to catch Draco’s attention. He forced a cough and Draco looked up at him. Crabbe silently motioned towards your direction with his head and Draco turned to look at you.

“Y/N-”

You jolted up, causing the table to thud with the sounds of the silverware and plates. You got out of your seat and sped-walked out of the Grand Hall all the way to your dorm. 

You felt your chest tighten and became lightheaded. Draco followed not too far behind you and stood in front of your door. You covered your face with your hands as you leaned onto your bed. 

Draco opened the door and immediately ran to your side. He knelt down by your side, concerned. He placed his hand on your shoulders and tried to turn you to face him, but you wouldn’t budge.

"Babe? Baby, look at me,” he spoke, concerned. You were still unresponsive.

Your fingers began to freeze up and soon enough your whole body felt numb. You closed your eyes shut, feeling your lungs start to jam. You were swaying from side to side, about to lose consciousness. 

Draco understood what was happening. He was panicking on the inside, but he needed to pull himself together for you. He stood up and sat on you bed. He lifted your small frame and pulled you onto his lap. He pulled your shoulders gently, asking you to sit up straight so you could control your breathing. He took off your robe and sweater, making it easier for you.

“Y/N. I need you to sit up, baby. Control your breathing, you can do this,” he soothed, “Open your eyes and look at me.”

You faintly opened your eyes and met his silver ones. 

“That’s it... that’s it, you’re doing great babe. Now slow, deep breathes okay? You’re okay, I am right here. You’re just scared, try to calm down and breathe.” he spoke gently. 

He moved some of your hair off of your neck to give you more room to breathe as your rapid wheezes began to settle down. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your neck, slowly. He left peppering kisses to bring you back into consciousness until your breathing pattern began to match his. Silent tears slowly began to flow down your face.

You felt so embarrassed. The sight shattered Draco’s heart, he hated to see you like this. Your heart eventually calmed down and you were just listening to his silent breathing.

He craned his neck to get a look at your face and was relieved to see you no longer panicking. 

“Y/N...”

You sat up, avoiding eye contact with him. He gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“What’s going on. I’m not an idiot, I know you’re not eating,” he spoke, his tone slightly agitated. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as he let go of your chin. “Dr-Draco, I... I don’t... I’m not... I can’t! I’m too fat!”

You threw your hands to your face and began to sob. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he lightly grabbed onto your tiny waist and gently pushed you down on your bed. Removing your hands from your face, his face was inches above yours.

His hot breathe fanned over yours as he lightly grabbed your cheek, wiping away the stray tears with his thumb.

“You are not fat and I never want to hear you talk about yourself like that ever again,” he said, “You are beautiful. You are perfect to me and that’s all that matters-”

“But Draco, my body-”

He interrupted you. “What about your body? It would say it is perfect, but it’s not. Not like this. This isn’t you, this isn’t my Y/N. The Y/N I know has luscious curves, not protruding bones.”

You frowned, look to the side. You couldn’t bare to look at him, he was right. He gripped your chin once more to look at him.

“But I still love you nonetheless, okay? Every single indent, curve, crease, and piece of fat on your body.”  

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to your chest, then your collar bone, and then to your neck. He trailed all the way up to your lips. He was able to taste the salt on your lips from your crying session. 

“Every single part of you,” he whispered, crawling above you, leaning on one of his hands so he didn't crush you under his weight. He pressed his lips once more to yours and engaged in the heat of the moment.

While kissing you, his hand slowly reached up groping and squeezing your breast. You lightly moaned against his touch and tugged on the hem of his shirt. You lifted it over his head and threw it to the side, exposing his beautifully toned chest. Your hands grazed down his abs, feeling his stomach.

He lowered his head and began sucking on your neck having you suck in a breath. His warm lips against your cold skin felt so good. He nibbled on your neck, making you wince a bit. 

It did sting a little. 

But he moved up again and lightly bit your lip. You gripped his back and lightly clawed at it. Wrapping your legs around his torso, he sat up, not once breaking the kiss. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head throwing it to the side. He gave you a quick kiss before going down to your breast. His hands trailed up your back and to your bra. He undid your bra in one swift moment and tossed it to the side, same as your shirt.

He sat up gazing down on you with hungry eyes as your cheeks turned red hot. You lifted one arm to cover your breasts and the other to cover your face, embarrassed under his gaze. He chuckled and grabbed onto both your hands.

"Don't cover yourself from me, you're absolutely beautiful," he said kissing your knuckles, “Never think otherwise.”

You nodded, and pulled him towards you, one more time, enjoying the moment.

[mx-writer]

Steve Rogers (Captain America) x Reader

WARNING(S): mature content: cussing self-degrading, and selfharm (there is nothing too graphic or gory)

You Should Know: The reader - you - is written as gender-neutral, so no matter your gender, you can be Steve's lover! Also, you are an insecure chubby person. (I know, a huge cliché, but I promise to make a confident chubby reader insert soon, too! And other body types and such!) Steve refers to you as pretty and gorgeous, which are usually attached strictly to femininity, but guys can be pretty, too, even if they are super masculine in appearance. If you don't like the way I worded things, switch the words to handsome or something in your mind. Sorry if you don't like how I made Steve describe you!

Prompt(s): A song inspired me! I don't remember what it was exactly, hhhhhh. It's on my Wattpad, though!

If these themes and ideas make you uncomfortable in anyway, you really do not have to read.

Thank you!

You weren't always the most attractive person, in your eyes - or even a little attractive. Your baby fat never seemed to have disappeared, and you just keep putting on the pounds. You gain weight so easily, and even when you try to diet properly and exercise daily, your weight is stuck in the same range.

With a frustrated sigh, you step off the little scale. You only pray that it's broken - I gained another two pounds! I mean, of course I did! I'm such a pig!

You squeeze at your stomach, face, and thighs in the mirror. Who'd ever want to look at this gross sack of flesh? You turn so your side is facing the mirror, your stomach sticking out. You suck in as hard as you can, but can only hold your breath for a few seconds before you let out a heavy exhale, stomach dropping back to its origin position.

Your eyes sting with the familiar feeling of tears about to spill over. You slam your fist into your hip to distract yourself from your bad thoughts. A hiss escapes from between your teeth as you cringe at the pain. You had forgotten there was already a bruise there.

Flailing your arms around for a moment, you force a smile onto your lips. You needed to get ready for work. There's no point in sitting here and moping around. You are a busy person, you don't have much time for a pity party.

After hurriedly throwing on your nice work clothes, making sure they cover you up almost completely, and focusing your thoughts on only professional things, you dash out of the apartment complex and hail a cab.

Popping into the main elevator, you head up to your office - well, your little corner of Mr. Stark's office. Even though you've worked there for a couple years now, you still can't believe you landed the job. All you are is a secretary, and all you do is take calls that Mr. Stark ignores elsewhere in the building and file away papers and documents (most everything is digital, but he likes to keep some things down on paper), but it's still an exciting job. After all, you are working for the Tonk Stark - fucking Ironman.

You take a seat at your desk, removing your blazer.

Now, this is the worst part of the job: the waiting. Usually, calls come in every few minutes, or Mr. Stark shoves a giant stack of papers into your hands to sort through, but then there are the slow days - days that you are grateful for, but you get so bored. These days are always random, popping up whenever you least expect it, and nowhere to be seen when you most desire them.

With a sigh, you let yourself relax into your chair. May you could get an extra few minutes of shut-eye. As soon as your eyes drift shut, a door loudly opens, causing you to immediately sit up straight, trying to look presentable.

In walked Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner. They were having a heated discussion about something you simply couldn't understand, like they were speaking another language. You didn't allow yourself to stare at them, quickly shifting your vision to the blank screen of your computer.

"__________, I need yesterday's papers! Get the last file from last night, the blue one." Mr. Stark piped up at you aggravatedly.

Quickly standing and sifting through the filing cabinet, you found the thick file and rushed it over to the two men. He ripped it from your hands, frantically flipping through the papers you oh-so-carefully organized last night. Finally, he yanked out a packet of papers and tossed it to Dr. Banner, who barely caught it.

"You can check the math all you want, Bruce, but you know I'm right."

Dr. Banner sighed, "I just want to make sure you didn't slip up, like when - "

"Nah-ah-ah! I almost never slip up! Even geniuses make little mistakes now and again."

Dr. Banner rolled his eyes, "At least you're finally admitting you were wrong. Took you long enough."

Mr. Stark returned the gesture, "I may he an asshole, but you love me all the same."

"You keep telling yourself that; whatever helps you sleep at night." Dr. Banner turned to face you, causing you to tense up, "Do you get the chance to check that document out?"

"Yes, sir! I'll send it back to you now." You head to your computer, quickly turning it on and booting up the file, "Were you two up all night, again? Want some coffee, Docter, Mr. Stark?" You sent the document back to Dr. Banner, flicking your eyes back to the two.

Dr. Banner groaned, "That sounds amazing right now." Mr. Stark, nodded, leaning back into his desk chair.

You swiftly head for the elevator, going down to the next level. You never really understood why he didn't get a coffee machine for his office. He has all the money in the world, what's one little coffee maker going to do? Maybe it's an excuse to get you out of the office, so he can speak with whoever alone.

The ding of the elevator breaks through your thoughts, and you rush over to make the coffee. You look around to make sure you were alone before hopping up onto the countertop. You could feel the cool surface through your pants, giving you goosebumps.

You look down at your lap, and immediately regret it. The fabric of your pants seemed to strain over your thick thighs. You scowled in disgust at yourself, squeezing at them. There was no space between them, all the way down until your knees. Sitting on a flat, hard surface only made them look bigger. You remember this morning, and aim your fist at the bruise on your hip. You curse under your breath at the sting, clenching your jaw. You can deal with the pain. It's your fault you're like this. Just suck it up.

Taking a deep breath, you slid off the counter. You needed to get your mind back on track. You poured three cups of coffee, placing them on a tray, and carefully hurried back to the office.

As the day came to a close, you groggily headed home. Your eyes hurt from staring at a computer screen all day, and you felt a slight burn in your calves from running up and down the tower to take Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner coffee and papers and blueprints and blah blah blah...

You sluggishly wash up and climb into bed.

Let's change this up a bit, shall we?

(third person point of view)

Meanwhile, at the Avengers Tower:

"You are an ass." Steve groans into his cup.

"Language, Cap." Tony, smirked to himself. Some of the others in the room laugh.

"You're never letting that go, are you?"

"Nope." Tony popped the 'p', taking a swig from his own glass, "You should just admit it, already. You can't keep your eyes off of them."

Steve rolled his eyes, stubbornly biting back his nerves, trying to reel in his annoyance, "They're your secretary, Tony. This isn't a child's game. It'd be highly inappropriate for me to desire them in any way."

"Tony's got a point," Bruce chips in, "Your glances may be subtle, but they are far too frequent for you to deny."

Steve only glares at him.

Clint, from the corner, whispers in a sing-song voice, "Chubby chaser!"

Steve's breath hitches, hairs on the end of his neck standing up. He chose to keep his mouth shut.

Tony pipes back up, "They're my employee - which makes me sort of like their dad. It wouldn't be all that bad if you made a move, Cap. As long as you don't distract each other during work hours, and keep everything PG around us."

Images of not-so-PG things flash through Steve's mind. He's suddenly flustered, so he snaps back to defend himself in some way, "Shut it, Tony." That'll have to do.

"Make me." Tony retorted childishly. Steve sent him a glare.

Thor, after being quiet through this whole interaction, finally decides to pitch in his own two cents, "I have experienced earthly love, myself, Steve. Gives you something more to fight for. It could be good for you."

"You, too? Really?" Steve was actually surprised that he had said anything like that, but his annoyance surpassed the shock.

Tony clapped Thor on the back, "Glad you're on my side," he smirked over at Steve, "You know, the right one."

Steve stood from his seat, "I'm going to bed."

This time, very unexpectedly, Natasha is the one to speak up, "I think you should go for it. How could anyone turn the Captain down?"

Steve paused, then went on his way to his room.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program:

Another day, another nickel. You sigh, standing in front of the mirror. Why do I keep doing this to myself? You gently run your fingers over the bruises. They seem to be everywhere - your hips, thighs, ribs, chest, arms... What's wrong with me?

This morning, you can't seem to hold back the tears. They silently fall from your eyes, then down your chest. It's not like anyone is going to see me bare, anyway. Who would ever wish for such a disgusting thing? What does another few bruises matter?

You take a deep breath, and slam your fist into your thigh as hard as you can. You let out a choked sob. Okay, maybe that was a little too hard for a work day - shit, I have work!

You jump into the shower, making it as hot as you can bear to numb your brain and to disguise the fact that you were crying.

Now in your usual seat at your desk, you smile as Mr. Stark enters the room, "Good morning, Sir."

He grumbles back, but the words are unintelligible.

"Rough night?"

This time, all you receive is a grunt. You stand, heading for the elevator, "It looks like it's a straight black morning, huh? I'll return with your joe in a moment." He always seems to forget that coffee exists most of the time. If I - no, not me, I'm not that important, just anyone - wasn't here to keep an eye on him, he'd have died from exhaustion by now.

Doing your usual routine, you start the coffee maker, then hop up onto the countertop to sit. Yes, there are chairs in the room, but, for some odd reason, you enjoy sitting on tabletops and such. It brings you back to your school days, sitting on your desk, whispering to your friends before class starts. You try to block out the bullying, but some choppy memories slip through.

Deciding it would be best, you force yourself out of good ol' memory lane, and look out the large windows. From this height, you could see the city from a better perspective. Instead of the towering building standing intimidatingly above you, you look down on them, in awe of the sun reflecting of the the shiny buildings, making the city look far more at peace than in reality. You allowed yourself this little moment, a small and genuine smile crossing your features. These are rare, precious moments; take advantage.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence, "Oh, hey. Didn't know you were down here."

You snap your attention to Mr. Rogers standing in the archway to the open kitchen area. You blush, quickly jumping off of the counter to stand straight before him, "Mr. Rogers, good morning!"

He offers you a bright smile, "It is a good morning, isn't it?" He walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

"It really is." You then laugh, "But not for Mr. Stark, that's for sure."

Mr. Roger's laughs with you, "Are any of his mornings ever considered good?"

You laugh again, "I wouldn't know. Maybe if he woke up to someone next to him, his mornings would be a hell of a lot better." Your tone insinuates something not-so-innocent.

Your smile falters, realizing you had let an inappropriate joke slip, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that! I shouldn't say things like that - "

"It's quite alright, (Ms./Mr./Mx.) __________. I hear far worse from Tony on a regular basis. And it's actually quite nice to see some more of your personality slip through." He turned his back to you, taking in a deep gulp of water.

You chuckle nervously, "If you're sure, Mr. Rogers. And you can just call me by my first name, like Mr. Stark does."

He tosses a quick smile over his shoulder at you, "And you can call me Steve."

You tense, biting at you bottom lip, "If that is what you wish, Steve." A warm feeling sneaks up on you as you say his name. Why did just saying his name make such a feeling bloom in your chest?

Mr. Ro - Steve went still, which appeared a tad strange, but you decided to not mention it.

"Would you like a cup of coffee, too, Steve?"

He shook his head, still facing away from you, "It's not a coffee kind of morning for me. Thank you, though."

You smiled at his back, then turned to the fresh pot of coffee, "Suit yourself." You filled up three glasses, as per usual, sure that Dr. Banner would probably want a cup, as well.

Finally, he turned back to you, and his voice sounded a bit off, "If you weren't so busy, I would ask you to join me for my morning run. You always have your hands so full."

You felt your face heat up. You looked down at yourself, "I'm, uh," you nervously glanced back up to him, "I'm not really a runner." Is that his subtle and nice way of calling me fat? Of course he'd think that. Who the fuck doesn't?

"A walk, then." He offers a soft grin.

You bite your lip, placing the mugs on the tray, "I suppose that would be nice. It's been pretty hot out, though; I don't really like the heat. And, just as you'd said, I am a rather busy person."

He nods, smile slipping a bit, "Perhaps, something more - "

A loud yawn cuts through the air, a man walking into the lounging area. It's a shirtless Mr. Odinson. You stiffen up, "Good morning, Sir. Did you sleep well?"

He gives you a tired smile, "Yes. I wish I could sleep longer, though."

"I'd have to agree with you there." You look down at the tray, then back to Steve, "It was nice chatting with you, but I'm afraid that I should hurry back to the office. Mr. Stark doesn't exactly like cold coffee, and he's probably fallen asleep at his desk again. I'll see you later!"

You turned away, heading back to Mr. Stark. You could've sworn you heard a light thud and a sharp, hushed voice behind you, but you chose to ignore it and continue on your way.

You groggily step into the office. It was technically your day off, and you'd planned to sleep in, but Mr. Stark called you in for 'an urgent emergency'. Lucky for you, he said you could dress casual and comfortable.

You plop down oh, so gracefully in your desk chair. You let out a heavy sigh, laying your head down on your folded arms on the desktop.

Someone bursts into the room, but you don't budge, "Ah, so you're here! Great!" It's Mr. Stark.

You lift your head, flashing a wide grin, "Morning, Mr. Star - "

"Ah!" He cuts you off, "That's my name only during work hours."

You furrowed your brows at him, "What do you - "

He interrupted you again, "There is no work today. On days like these, it's Tony."

You were quite confused, "But, Sir, if there's no - "

"Tony." He firmly stated, "I know that I called you in on your day off, but I have good reason. You're not here to work; you're here to..." he trailed, carefully choosing his next words, "have some fun."

You blinked, "Fun?" It was spoken as more of a statement than a question.

He laughed, "Yes, fun." He looked you over, "We should get you changed."

You leaned back into the chair, now fully facing him, "Why - I-I didn't - "

He shushed you, "Hush. We're going to get you something nice to wear for the party." He pulled out his phone, typing away.

Your eyes bugged out and you started to sputter, "Party? What party? Mr. - Tony, I can't - "

"You're going." He spoke firmly, "It's part of the job now."

You wanted to question further, wanted to argue, but you didn't want to risk your current position or your relationship with your boss. Instead, you just nod and wait, internally panicking.

He heads for the elevator, motioning for you to follow. With a sigh, you hurry after him.

Now fully dressed and ready in your fancy, new outfit, you glance at yourself in the mirror. The clothing seemed to fit you better than most anything you've ever worn, sculpting to your figure in a... not too unattractive way. You give yourself a small smile, smoothing down the fabric on your chest and stomach.

When shopping, you had made sure to get something that reached the floor and had long sleeves. You didn't want to expose any more skin than you had to.

A loud knock cut through the air from the door behind you, making you jump. You turn to the door, quickly reaching over to open it. Behind the door stood a sharply dressed Tony.

He smiled at you, "You look good."

You look down at yourself, mumbling, "Thanks."

He threw an arm around your lower back, pulling you out of the restroom and into the elevator.

After a few beats of silence, you nervously ask, "How big is this party going to be?"

He shrugged, still smiling, "Don't worry, it shouldn't be that big."

You frowned, brows furrowed. That didn't comfort you in the slightest. The elevator went silent again.

The music grew louder as you approached the party floor. You shifted on your feet anxiously. You weren't a big fan of parties in general, nevermind a Tony Stark party.

The elevator dinged. You bit your lip as Tony lead you out. He continued to smile at you, nudging your shoulder, "Go, have fun - and don't you dare leave." His tone was a tad unnerving.

You simply nod, and he walks away, leaving you alone. You could feel the music, the bass beating in your chest alongside your heart. It was a heavy feeling, but you kind of enjoyed it.

Looking to your left, you see a bar. You cringe. Nope. Definitely not drinking tonight. I get plastered far too easily, then I just end up embarrassing myself. You sigh, and turn to your right, seeing a large crowd of people dancing. A lot of them appeared drunk and they were dancing rather... intamately. You blushed just watching them. You wished you could move like that... That anyone would even want to dance with you in such a fashion... Stop it! Not now! You pinch the back of your hand to scold yourself.

Finally, you move from your spot, stepping forward and officially into the party. You walk around a bit, catching bits and pieces of conversations as you go. You turn your head, eyes meeting glass - a floor-to-ceiling window. You focus on your reflection, then to the city beyond the pane. You walk over to the window. You've never seen the city at night from this high up. Another one of those rare, genuine smiles spreads across your face. Maybe this party wasn't so bad, after all.

You notice something in your peripherals, turning your focus on it. It's a balcony. You thought about how beautiful the city looked, and decided to go get an even better view. You rush over to the surprisingly empty balcony, stepping out into the cool night air. Once the door shut, the music grew quite muffled, and you could listen in on the sounds of the city. The genuine smile lingered as you leant on the railing to peer down at the roads. The height frightens you in the best of ways, chills running down your spine.

You could barely hear the quiet footfalls approaching you. You were so zoned out, lost in the beauty of the city beneath you.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You snap out of it, turning your still smiling face to the person behind you. It's Steve. Your eyes sparkle, "Beautiful, yes, but I would say 'gorgeous'."

He smiled back to you, "I would save that word for prettier sights." There was a hint of... something in his voice, but you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"There are a lot 'prettier sights', huh?" You turn back to the city, "Though, here and now, this has got to be the prettiest."

He now stood beside you, "Now, I wouldn't say that."

You glance over at him, "Why not?"

He remains silent for a few moments before turning back to you and smiling. He holds out his hand, "Care to dance?"

You look to his hand, then back to his eyes, "I can't..." you trailed, "I'm no good at dancing."

He persisted, "All we have to do is sway. How hard can that be?"

You furrowed your brows, glancing to the windows and looking inside. Everyone was dancing wildly, jumping around and grinding against one another. But Steve was suggesting a much different kind of dancing.

"I don't get why people consider that dancing nowadays." he spoke up, grabbing your attention again, "Dancing used to be a whole lot classier."

You chuckled, "Yeah, but at least it seems fun."

He nodded thoughtfully before he continued to persist, "Will you please dance with me?"

You clasp your hands behind your back nervously, "Like I said, I'm not much of a dancer."

"All we'll do is sway." He steps closer, "We'll sway to much quieter music."

You shake you head at him, "What music?"

"You'll hear it if you listen carefully." His grin widens.

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. Holding out your hand, you flash him a smile, "Fine, I give. I'll dance with you. But don't complain when I step on your toes." You jokingly warned.

"I'm tough, I can handle it." He pulls you close to him, lifting your hands to his shoulders before placing his on your hips.

You bit back your nervousness, "Oh, so you're taking the lead?"

"I thought you couldn't dance." He started swaying the two of you back and forth at a slow pace.

You chuckled, "Yeah, it'd be a disaster if I lead."

"I doubt that."

You continue to smile, "Your doubts would be incorrect, Steve."

He shifts, pulling you a tad closer. His hands felt a bit heavier on your hips. "All of them?"

You nod, "Yep."

You can see a strange twinkle in his eyes. Suddenly, he's leaning down and placing a soft, slow kiss on your cheek.

As he pulls away, you feel your face heat up, not really sure what to say, "What was that for?"

He ignored your current question, instead responding to your previous one, "The city may be a pretty sight, but I reserve the word 'gorgeous' only for you."

Your breath hitches, heartbeat picking up. You were speechless. Your face grew hotter. You started to panic, quickly deciding to hide your face in his shoulder.

He chuckled, nervousness obvious in his tone, but he continued, "My friends have caught my lingering glances. I don't mean to stare, but I just can't help myself. You are very attractive, there's no denying that."

You shake your head involuntarily.

"You don't think so?"

You kept silent, still.

He pulled you against him, continuing the swaying motion, "I know that I'm being forward. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I'm afraid that if I keep beating around the bush, I'll miss my chance."

"What are you talking about?" You managed to mutter out.

He hesitated, "I want you to be mine."

You pulled back from him, wide-eyed, "What?"

"I-I mean, if you'll have me - " He let you go, taking a step back, panic settling into his eyes, "I'm sorry, I should leave you be, shouldn't I?"

You panic as well, reaching out to grip his upper arm, worried that he'd walk off, "No!"

The both of you stilled.

You recoiled, "I-I mean... no." You spoke softer, "I'm sorry, I just can't really tell if you're serious or not." You try to laugh it off, wrapping your arms around yourself.

His brows furrowed, "Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"Well, uh," you averted your eyes, "if you're constantly the butt-end of a joke, you tend to put up some walls, constantly doubting what others say." You realized that you might have said too much when you look back at him. There was apparent anger in his eyes and frustration embedded into his features.

He steps back over to you, "I wouldn't play with your feelings like that." He clenched his jaw, wrapping his arms back around your waist, holding you gently.

You returned the favor, embracing him.

Another long stretch of silence.

"Why wouldn't I have you?" You blurt out, still doubtful.

He chuckled, "Because I'm sure, as amazing as you are, you could find someone better."

You paused, "So even the Captain America can be insecure." You didn't really mean to say that aloud, but it's already out there, in the open.

"Yeah, believe it or not." He chuckled again, "You have no idea how vulnerable I feel right now."

He seemed to sincere, so honest, it was starting to actually get hard to doubt his words. You let a 'huh' slip from between your lips.

He pulls back, cupping your cheek. He leans forward again, kissing your temple. This action was so gentle and caring, it made you melt. "All I'm asking for is one date. Anything after that is up to you."

You smiled at him, a short laugh escaping you, "So is this our first date?"

He returned the smile, "I would prefer to take you on a proper date." The swaying resumed, and you think you're starting to understand what music he was talking about.

You stood straighter, confidence building, "I'd like to consider this the first."

"And why's that?"

You inhale sharply, "So I can kiss you already."

He stared at you for a moment. Neither of you spoke or moved. When a minute grew into forever, you returned to your panicky self.

Suddenly, he captured your lips against his own, holding you closely. It took you a moment, but you were soon kissing back, gripping at the fabric on his back.

The kiss ended far too soon. His smile reached his eyes, "Done and done."

A laugh fell from your lips, and you were kissing again. It was chaste, but it meant everything to you, "I'm yours."

He pressed you against him, swaying with you at a slightly faster pace, "And I'm yours."

You leaned against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. If this wasn't music, you didn't know what was.

Thank you so much for reading! This wasn't super romantic or anything, so I do plan on making a continuation. I don't know why, but I keep writing out these long, slow-burning stories, with endings that don't really feel all that worth it. I promise to spice things up pretty soon. If you have any thoughts, suggestions, or requests, hit me up. I'll make some time just for you.

[71tenseventeen]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-11

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.

Perpetual credit to my betas, @queen-alia and @icosahedonist as well as the GC and @ljummen.

Sid would gladly stay in the pool all day but after a couple of hours Geno finally lures him out with the promise of good food and they share lunch together at the kitchen island. After lunch the two of them head down to Geno’s media room for a movie.

Sid heads straight for one of the Penguins-themed recliners while Geno is busy looking for the remote control. There’s a book on the table next to the chair Sid chooses and he scoops it up to read the cover. The Baby Book: Everything You Need to Know about Your Baby from Birth to Age Two. There’s a photo of babies on the cover and a couple of Post-it notes sticking out near the beginning of the book. He holds it up with a smile. “Any good?”

Geno glances up and that is definitely a blush when he sees what Sid’s holding. “Just get started.”

Sid sits and flips through the book, noting that Geno has started highlighting parts of a list called The Seven Baby B’s of Attachment and smiles at Geno who is settling in the chair next to him. “It looks interesting.”

Geno shrugs but Sid can see the hint of a smile that he’s holding back. “Like I say, just get started but look like has some good stuff to learn. This book only talk about after they born, though. I need to find book on how baby develop now. Ordered some in Russian but take a few more days to get here.”

“I’ve been reading some good websites and the doctor did give me some pamphlets and book recommendations. I got one at the library but didn’t really like it.”

“What you not like about?”

“It just felt, I don’t know, harsh or something. I just keep thinking this little baby is going to be here and depend on us for everything. This book made it seem a little bit like the baby is your enemy that you have conquer. I guess that’s just not really my style.”  

Geno makes a face. “Not sound like my style either.”

Sid flips through the book again. “Maybe I’ll check this one out from the library.”

“Okay. And if you find other good one, tell me too.”

Sid smiles at him. “Deal. So what are we watching?”

“Goonies.”

“Really?” Sid’s face lights up.

“I know, is probably silly but I start to watch with Gonch girls and never get to finish.”

“No, Geno, I love The Goonies.”

Geno beams at him. “Nice to know baby daddy have good taste,” he says and laughs at Sid’s resulting honks of laughter.

It’s not until later, when they’re toting their cups and popcorn bowls back to the kitchen, quoting lines from the movie at each other that Sid’s phone rings again and he looks at it with a frown. He’d forgotten all about the call earlier but now there are two messages.

“Everything okay?” Geno is peering at him curiously.

“Yeah, it’s just I got two messages from a number I don’t know.”

“Should listen, see what it is.”

Sid’s heart sinks when he listens to the message. He does his best to school his expression into something neutral but he can tell by the furrow of Geno’s brow that it’s not working.  

When the message ends, he puts down his phone and swallows hard. He hates that he’s upset about this. This is logical, he tells himself. Of course this is something that Geno would need and there is no reason that it should sting the way it does. If he needs Sid to sign a non-disclosure agreement then Sid will do it. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine. Just fine.

“If you wanted me to sign something, you could have just asked me,” he blurts out and regrets it immediately when Geno’s eyes fly wide open.

“What?”

“The non-disclosure agreement.”

Geno’s face goes from confused to incensed between one blink and the next. “Who that message from?”  

“Some guy from Pens PR. He said they already talked to you about it yesterday.”

Geno sets his jaw. “And I tell them under no circumstances to ask you that. How they even get your number?!” He scrambles around, presumably looking for his phone while Sid lets that sink in.

“Wait, you told them not to?”

“Of course told them not to. And they do anyway!”

“Why?”

Geno stops and looks at Sid, confused. “What you mean why?”

“Why did you tell them not to ask me that?”

“Because we gonna have a baby, Sid, not fucking business contract!”

“Oh.” It’s all Sid has time to get out before Geno turns on his heel and charges out of the kitchen and Sid’s left trying to process everything that just happened.

Geno told his agent and the entire Pens PR and legal teams about Sid and the baby and then refused to let them contact Sid. He told them no. And why? Because he didn’t want it to feel like a business transaction.

Geno did that. For him. For their baby. He could have easily asked Sid for a NDA when he asked him to see a new doctor but he didn’t and apparently didn’t plan to. Warm fondness washes over Sid for a split second before he remembers that Geno is on his way to rip someone’s head off and he scrambles to catch up.

By the time he tracks Geno down in the media room, he can already hear him talking.

“...make it very clear I not want anyone bother Sid! Understand you have job to do but I very clear about this! I already say I talk to him about doctor, work with him on stay private. Sid have enough to worry about—not need you calling and scare!”

Oh no. This sounds bad and the last thing Sid wants is for Geno to get himself into trouble over this.

“Yes, I’m aware is risk but is my baby and my risk to take!”

Geno lets out a frustrated growl and pinches the bridge of his nose as he listens.

“Understand organization trying to protect but not need this! Can’t believe you go behind my back like this!”

And oh god, Sid’s anxiety spikes. “Geno?” He doesn’t want to interrupt but he can’t have Geno getting in trouble over this. He just can’t.

Geno whirls around and, taking in Sid’s anxious expression, says, “Have to go. You not contact him again,” and hangs up the phone.

“Call them back. I’ll sign the agreement, it’s not a big deal.”

“No. No way.” This is the first time Sid has seen Geno dig in his heels like this and it confuses him.

‘I’m not mad about it. I understand.”

Geno frowns. “I’m sorry they call you and make you think this something I want. I don’t want and I tell them that.”

“They’re just trying to protect you.”

“Not necessary. Know you not cause problems, not need NDA. Period.” His tone indicates that the conversation is over and maybe it is for now but when Sid finally heads home later, he finds the number and leaves a message.

“This is Sidney Crosby. You left me a message earlier. I’ll sign the NDA.”

--

It takes a couple of days to coordinate but eventually Sid finds himself back at the arena, meeting with a man who introduces himself as Parker from Public Relations. He feels a little guilty for going against Geno’s wishes but at least now there can’t be any doubt in their minds—Sid wants to protect Geno, too. He sits quietly as Parker explains the terms of the contract—basically preventing him from disclosing information about the pregnancy or his relationship with Geno to a very long list of people. It’s not like he plans to tell anyone other than his family anyway but something inside him twists sourly as he listens Parker speak to him as if he’s some kind of criminal.  

As soon as Parker hands him a copy of the document he stands to leave, anxious to get out of there.

“One more thing, Mr. Crosby,” he says and Sid stops, wondering what else they could want from him.

“We would like you to do a paternity test.”

Sid gapes. “What?”

“The organization needs to be sure that you’re not faking the pregnancy and that Evgeni really is the father. Surely you can understand that.”

“He is,” Sid bites out, feeling like he’s been slapped.

“Then you shouldn’t have any problem taking the test. Dr. Vyas informs me it’s just a simple blood draw—nothing invasive.”

“Geno would have told me if he wanted one.”

“Would he, though?” Parker cocks his head, looking at Sid as though he’s trash. “If he’d upset you, you could have gone public and outed him. He had to keep you happy.”

Sid grits his teeth, willing himself not to cry. “I would never do that.”

“Then you should prove that with a paternity test. Don’t you think you owe him this, at least, after everything he’s risking for you?”

Sid looks away, has to swallow before he mutters. “Fine.”

He’s introduced to Dr. Vyas who seems nice enough but it doesn’t matter. Sid feels sick before the blood draw ever happens. Everything he’s risking for you… Parker had said, making it clear what the organization thought of him. Sid blinks back his tears as the kind doctor does the blood draw. It doesn’t matter how it makes him feel if it will help protect Geno.

Part 12

[littlepeachwhispers]

Civilian - Chapter 3: Blood in the Cut

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: When you accidentally stumble onto Sanctuary territory, Negan takes you prisoner to ensure your arrival is purely coincidental. When no one from your group shows up, you end up becoming a citizen of the sanctuary and realizing just how dark your new leader truly is.

Chapter Warnings: light body gore & blood

Story Warnings: violence, gore, smut, slow burn, isolation, body gore, blood, dark themes

Available on AO3 if you prefer to read there. A/N: It feels like forever since I’ve updated this. I'm so sorry, guys, but to my credit, 2018 was a seriously crazy year. I lost/quit my job, had the worst heartbreak of my life, and I met Jensen and Jared. It was insane. But I promised I wouldn't abandon this fic and I mean it. My love for Negan has resurged and so has my motivation. This chapter was shorter than the rest I believe but it's a bit of a transition for me so I promise there's more angst/drama/action to come in the next chapters. I'm a bit rusty with no beta, but I'd love to hear ideas for future chapters!   

During your first few days with Dr. Carson, he had familiarized you with the equipment he had in the makeshift hospital. Many machines and devices were outdated, but it made sense since the Saviors scavenged and took what was available to them. Carson had also prepared you for what the typical sanctuary patients would be like. Gunshot wounds, pregnancy tests, infections, and colds. He said that occasionally there would be something on the gorier side, but that hadn’t bothered you. You had seen your fair share of gore, all before the apocalypse was even thought about. Wounds that wouldn’t heal, people dying within seconds in front of you, insane gastrointestinal bleeds. As fucked up as it seemed, when it came to body gore, you were in your comfort zone. It was your life before the world went to shit. And patching people up came to you like second nature. Fixing people felt like home. 

Despite your newfound comfort in your job, your arrival at the Sanctuary still had you reeling. Laura and another female savior whose name you had learned was Arat had accompanied you everywhere. Work breaks, the canteen, the commissary, even your shared room; each night was exactly like your first night in the old factory minus the handcuffs. You felt like you were never alone, your sense of self becoming fuzzy at times. Even Carson could be caught sneaking glances at you as you worked. You never slept well because you were always on edge. More often than you would care to admit, you found yourself wondering where your new leader spent the majority of his days. Negan had been scarce to say the least during your time at the sanctuary. It was nearly two weeks into your stay before you saw him again. He had been silently watching you alphabetize medication vials and bottles, before he left without a word. Whether it was due to his deteriorating eyesight or his lack of attention to detail, for some reason Carson hadn’t paid much mind to the organization of his tools or medicines. Within a few short days, you had fixed that. All the cabinets and floors were hand-scrubbed to perfection. They hadn’t been dirty beforehand, but thanks to you they were now pristine. 

You began to lose count of how many days you’d been a Sanctuary citizen, knowing little more than the infirmary, your room, and the canteen. Days had begun to run together, finally some sense of normality in your situation falling into place for you. It seemed safe to lay low and off of Simon and Negan’s radar. You had no specific reason to fear them, not really. The imprisonment, the handcuffs, the weapons: it was scary, sure. But wouldn’t your own community have done anything they could to protect what they had as well? The longer you turned it over and over in you mind, the easier it was to understand. Your unease around Negan hadn’t primarily emerged as a result of any specific action. An aura of power, of absolute brutality, hung over him like a cloud. His authority was palpable. Something in you - probably the self-preservation - suggested that steering clear of him would be a wise decision. At least until he’d personally made avoiding him impossible.

Startling you out of your thoughts and causing you to drop an ampule of lidocaine, someone loudly barged in behind you as you stood in the makeshift infirmary. It was an ordinary day and nothing had been unusual up until that point. Carson had stepped out for his usual lunch and you had been relabeling bottles whose lettering had begun to fade. When you turned around to face the source of the commotion, you were face to face with a bleeding Negan, his hand covered in a deep crimson. A blond man you thought was named Dwight stood behind him, a blood-soaked towel bundled under one arm. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you, Darlin.” His voice was strained and you could tell he was uncomfortable. You kicked the shattered glass at your feet to the side, pulling cabinet doors open to search for what you needed. 

“I’m fine, D. Tell the boys to continue with the festivities.” Even in pain, he kept his humor as he directed his voice toward Dwight. 

Flinging open cabinet door after cabinet door, you managed to gather some telfa pads, gauze packets, an antibiotic cream, and some saline meant for contacts, all of which you transferred to the exam table within seconds. Dwight nodded at Negan once through stringy ashen bangs before excusing himself. Gloves were a rarity, so you had to work on the man’s wound gloveless. There were a few boxes around, but the infirmary “staff” - consisting of Carson, a man and two women who had been aides in a hospital, and yourself - had collectively decided that gloves were for extreme needs only. The chances of having hepatitis of one type or another didn’t seem unlikely for anyone at this point. You often wondered if it even mattered anymore. An infection or bloodborne illness couldn’t be any worse than dying from a biter. 

Negan didn’t say anything at first, his eyes focused on you intently. It was unnerving and you busied yourself with inspecting his wound to ease your mind. After lifting up the once-white cloth he’d used to cinch the blood flow, you discovered a laceration a little over an inch in length to the web of his left hand. Not a bite and not very big. But it was considerably deep. It still oozed blood. You ripped open a pack of gauze and pressed it firmly to his wound, before lifting his hand upright. 

“Keep it elevated like this.” You decided to keep your replies short and simple, concentrating on the job in front of you. 

“Settling in nicely?” His voice was just as you’d remembered, his timbre gravel. 

“Yes.” Your answer was quiet. You poured the saline solution over the gauze to prevent it from drying to his blood as it clotted, your hands surprisingly steady around his.

“Good…” His voice trailed off, and you waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t.

You kept applying pressure until you finally staunched the bleeding completely. It didn’t call for stitches, thankfully. While cleaning up his wound with more gauze and saline, you noticed how calloused and bruised his hands were. He’d presumably just been in a fight, but he smelled clean. Like soap. The white tee he had on wasn’t pristine - there were smudges of blood and dirt - but it was still white. His hair was inky and slicked back into perfection, just as it was the first time you’d met. The short beard adorning his face was peppery and sharply groomed, with no trace of neck-beard to be found. It never ceased to amaze you; the capacity at which Negan was worshiped and taken care of by others in the community. It was unsettling, even moreso since you’d been tasked with healing the man.

“This might sting.” You warned timidly before dabbing a small amount of alcohol over the gash. 

Negan hissed lowly, muttering a quick, “Shit!” 

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, beginning to dry his wound and opening the small individual packet of antibiotic cream. 

As you spread the ointment over his wound, you began to speak again, doing your best to keep yourself calm and your voice even. “I’m going to wrap a dressing around your hand. Just keep it dry and clean and come see me if any drainage is visible or in about three days. Whichever comes first. If it starts to hurt worse, feels hot, or smells, come see me as soon as you notice.” It wasn’t standard practice - in a perfect world, he would change the bandage every day. But you were conserving products and three days seemed a safe amount of time to wait.

Laying a non-stick pad over the wound, you started to wrap gauze around it when Negan spoke again.

“That sounds gross as shit, but coming out of your mouth it’s kinda fucking hot.”

Eyes widening, you didn’t know how to respond to his words. Did he call you hot? No, he said your words were hot. His phrasing felt more like a threat than a compliment. Tucking the end of the gauze into place, you stepped back from your newfound leader and began to pick up the wrappers from the supplies now on Negan’s hand. 

“I’m finished.” You had turned your back to clean up but heard paper crinkling as the tall man stood up and off of the exam table. 

“Arat and Laura are still escorting you around the Sanctuary.” His voice was steady as he spoke, and even though he hadn’t asked you a question, you felt as if he wanted you to answer him.

“They are.” Cautiously, you threw all your trash away and turned to face him. He had his head tilted to one side, his injured hand rubbing at his beard. 

“You know, those ladies are two very integral members of my security team here.” You didn’t know exactly where he was going with this, but you took a shot in the dark.

“I’m not going anywhere, Negan.” He raised his eyebrows at your words, and your stomach instantly felt like it was filled with ice. “Sir,” you amended.

“...Good girl.” He chuckled. “I’m going to trust you on that. Can I trust you, Y/N?” He stepped closer and you began to feel nauseated and stuck in place. It was a repeat of that first encounter with him all over again.

You looked up to meet his eyes, backing up until the freshly cleaned counter was biting into your lower back. “Yes, sir.” You felt your pulse pounding in the flush of your cheeks.

He held your gaze for an intense moment - long enough to make you shiver - before grinning again, as if nothing had just transpired between the two of you. 

“Great.”

You continued to clean up and organize supplies as Negan stood in the middle of the room. He didn’t move to leave immediately, and that made your hands tremble as you grasped a plastic container of alcohol and replaced it in its proper cabinet. 

“...You did a good job.” He grunted, inspecting his hand. Before finally turning to leave, he turned to face you again. 

“Thank you. Can I do anything else for you, sir?” Your voice was stronger; it didn’t sound like you were as scared as you actually were. 

He chuckled at your voice, eyes meeting yours this time. You wondered how far he was going to push the envelope with his reply, but he surprised you: his laughter was his reply. After he glanced over your body in a quick once-over, he’d turned to the doors and disappeared.

What did that even mean? You peered around the room you stood in; nothing had visibly changed save for the crinkled paper on the exam table, yet the aura in the air had grown heavy; different. Your encounter with Negan had left you tense. The mood didn’t lift all day. You continued with your usual work, bandaging a wound or two, but mostly organizing and cleaning. Was Negan kidding when he’d said your voice was hot? He was this community’s leader, would he find it disrespectful if you didn’t return his interest? Or if you did? Was he even actually flirting with you, or was it just an aspect of his personality? Negan had used pet names from the moment he’d met you, and you assumed it had been his demeanor. A part of that complex persona he embodied. Truth be told, you didn’t know anymore. And you didn’t know if figuring it out was worth your peace of mind at this point.

Taglist:  @ohokaybyethen @miiraal @grayonshugs @angelicaleonamichelle @collette04 @freakior

It’s been a long time, so if I left you out or you no longer want to be on the taglist, let me know!

[peterparkerscurls]

im sorry this took forever and it is t r a s h :)

enjoy maybe :)))))

Peter yawned, laying his head on his arm, scribbling down calculations for his math homework. His eyes felt heavy, and he sniffed aggressively. Tony abruptly turned around, something Peter would notice immediately, but the kid’s messy, brown locks stayed splayed across his arm. Peter yawned again, shifting in his chair and trying to avoid skin to cold countertop contact. He normally loved being at the tower, sitting in his usual homework spot at the counter that sat in front of the kitchen area, connected to the sink and such, and keeping Mr. Stark company while he meal prepped, but today it was especially hard to stay his chipper self. Peter licked his cracking lips, and tried to sniff again, but instead was forced to breathe through his mouth, hence the dry lip problem.

“Hey, snot machine-” Tony dried his hands on a nearby Hulk themed rag.

Peter’s head quickly lifted and Tony watched as the kid’s brain took a second to follow.

“Oh, ‘m sorry Mr. Stark.” He mumbled, trying to blink away the annoying tears in his eyes. Tony noticed them, and at first, he thought the kid was going to cry and his heart leaped into his throat, but Peter’s hearty cough switched his suspicions.

“Are you alright there? Are you doing that vaping shit I see everywhere? I can sit you down with Bruce and he can tell you all about how-”

“No! No, Mr. Stark I swear, I’m not doing that stuff.” Peter tried to sniff again but gave up.

“Ok then, you’re infected.”

Peter’s head whipped around and he stood up more, opening his eyes and pursing his lips.

“I am not. I swear.”

Tony raised his eyebrow and walked over to his, well, whole ass sick child.

“Ok alright, so you wouldn’t mind cooking tonight for everyone? With your hands? Let’s make pizza from scratch.”

Peter knew better than to get everyone sick to try to prove a point, and he knew Mr. Stark was are of that as well.

“Ok, maybe I don’t feel s-”

Tony cleared his throat and Peter shifted his feet, changing his words.

“I think it’s just a sinus infection. I’m fine though!”

“No-”

“Patrol. I know.”

Peter slumped in his seat, setting his head back down on his arm and continuing his sniffling and math. He would never say, but he was kind of glad he could stay in and sleep and relax instead of swinging around the freezing cold air of Queens and sniffling in bad guy faces.

-------------------------------------------------

Peter sniffled for the millionth time that night and shivered. The team was settling in for movie night, something for which Peter was usually estatic for, but he was cold and the first person to sit next to him was going to be his personal body pillow. That lucky victim was Steve Rogers, who didn’t really believe Tony when he complained about how clingy a tired Peter could be, until now. Peter sniffed and snuggled his head into Steve’s thick, forever warm arm and sighed in relief. His head felt heavy and he couldn’t wait for the lights to be turned off. He groggily watched as Tony dropped a blanket over him, and sat down by Pete’s feet.

They got a half hour into the movie before Peter shot up and began sneezing like a maniac. It scared the shit out of Steve, and really everyone else. He would get maybe two shaky breaths before another spit filled sneeze would rack his body, along with horrible coughing. Tony grabbed a tissue and shoved it in Peter’s hand, rubbing soft circles into his back. Peter groaned, his fit coming to a hault, and swallowed roughly. As he was going to lay back down, his whole body erupted in an overwhelming spidey sense. He sat there for a moment, letting the adults think he was just collecting himself, before excusing himself to the bathroom.

He shut the door and hurridly stripped his clothes off, his spidey suit already under his outfit for the day (per usual), and climbed right out the window. He knew Mr. Stark would be mad, but he hoped that if he kept his heart rate in the green-no-baby-monitor-needed-area, that it would be a while until he saw an Iron Man suit speeding towards him. He was wrong.

The minute Peter crawled outside, the wind ripped right through him. The heater in his suit wasn’t enough, so Spider-Man shivered as he swung through the city. Half-way to his destination he pulled his mask up, and wiped his nose on his sleeve, making a mental note to stuff tissues in a secret pocket or something.

Peter tuck and rolled straight into a gas station that was several blocks away, and he had trouble remembering whether his spidey sense could even pick up things this far away, but was distracted by the huge knife wielding man glaring at him.

“Hey, what’s with the butter knife, man?” He shot his webbing at the man’s hand, sticking to his huge fist. “This lady doesn’t look like butter to me.” Peter yanked the man’s hand forward and jumped on his back, kicking him down to the ground. He sniffed and coughed while tying the idiot’s hands behind his back in web-cuffs.

“I’m glad swung over here when I did, otherwise he would’ve buttered some toast.” Pete looked at the little old lady the man was threatening before.

“You sound congested, dear.” The lady began digging through her purse, probably for some motherly tissue or pills, when Peter’s whole body erupted in chills. He turned his head and wasn’t fast enough.

The gunshot was loud and left Peter’s ears ringing. He quickly jumped in front of the older lady and shot his web right in the barrel of the gun, the whole thing exploding in the what Pete assumed to be the first guy’s backup’s hand. He wouldn’t have noticed that his shoulder was bleeding if it weren’t for the older lady pressing a tissue into it. He hissed and dropped down a bit, turning and grabbing his stinging shoulder.

“The police are on their way, stay safe!” Peter shouted as he swung off, and back towards the tower.

“Karen, do you think Mr. Stark knows I left?” Peter asked as he swung through the city, ignoring his runny nose completely now.

“He seems uneasy since your departure from the couch, but he hasn’t gotten up.”

Peter nodded and coughed as he swung back. He managed to make his whole trip fifteen minutes, give or take, and he crawled back into the bathroom, yanking his clothes back on. He flushed the toilet for effect and opened the door to Mr. Stark’s raised fist ready to knock on the door.

“Hello…” Peter mumbled, looking wide-eyed up at Mr. Stark.

“We thought you fell in!” Clint yelled from the couch, pausing the movie.

“Oh, sorry. I just...needed to blow my nose.”

“For fifteen minutes?” Tony raised his eyebrow and let Peter pass as he avoided eye contact with his mentor, well, father figure. “Hey-” Tony reached out and grabbed Peter’s hurt shoulder, eliciting a wince and hissing sound from the teenager.

“Oh?” Both Tony and Steve said at the same time, Steve actually getting off the couch, his second father figure. “Move the shirt,” Tony said, crossing his arms.

“It’s nothing I just, uh, scratched too hard.” Peter smiled sleepily, sniffing. His excuse was poor, and he knew it, so he sighed and moved his shirt to unveil his bleeding shoulder.

Tony rushed forward and took a closer look, hollering at Bruce to get up and come to take a look. Tony and Steve resulted to yelling at Peter while Bruce wiped at the blood with some gauze, determining it a small bullet wound, just a graze.

“A graze? From where? The bathroom?” Tony asked knowingly.

“Ok, maybe I went out and helped this old lady and there was a guy with a knife and another with a gun but I’m al-” Peter gasped and sneezed into his elbow, looking back up to his fathers, and smiled innocently. “-alive.”

Steve placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder and the smaller man sighed, rubbing his face.

“He’s ok. I patched him up while you two threw a fit over a young man doing what was right.” Bruce smiled and patted Peter’s back. Peter smiled back in surprise, and he could have sworn he heard Dr. Banner tell him he would kill him if he used more gauze on him, but his head was getting heavy and his eyelids weighed tons. He yawned and looked down at his feet.

“I’m sorry. I just...wanted to help.” He mumbled. Peter felt two strong hands on his good shoulder, and they all walked back to the couch, returning right back to the positions they were in fifteen minutes ago. Peter fell asleep to soft circles being rubbed into his back and calf, and he swore he could sense Tony and Steve holding hands, but he was too tired and sick to care.

[oohfluffy]

LMN Ch.14 | OSH

Group: EXO

Member: Oh Sehun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Writer!AU | Neighbor!AU

Word Count: 1,851

✎ Chapter 14: Fallen ✎

"She's awake."

Sehun's eyes were still droopy but when he heard your mother speak, his eyes shot open.

"Noona." Chanyeol called out as he smiled at you. You slowly blinked your eyes open as you focused your vision. You noticed that it's only your mother around and Chanyeol with Sehun.

"My baby, are you alright? Do you feel any pain?" Ga-in asked worriedly as she caressed your hair. You opened your mouth to speak, only to realize that your throat felt dry.

"Here, noona." A slender hand offered a glass of water. You trailed your eyes up until it reaches to his face.

Sehun.

You just lifted the corner of your lips and nodded at him as you took the glass gratefully. You drank the glass of water in one go, feeling your throat so much better. You wondered how many days were you confined here, how much will the hospital bills cost and how much time you wasted on this bed instead of working your ass off in front of your laptop.

"You've been confined here for almost 3 days, noona." Sehun spoke as if he knows what you're thinking right now. You looked at him incredulously. He smiled. "I'm sure you're thinking how you've wasted too much time here instead of working at home."

You almost choked on your water as Sehun spoke what you had in mind just a minute ago. You cleared your throat before putting the glass down beside your bed.

"I'm gonna call the doctor. Chanyeol, Sehun, look after her for a moment." Ga-in rushed out of the room, leaving the three of you alone. You glanced at your brother who looks so sullen and down.

"Yeol..." You softly called out as you reached out your hand to him. He quickly met your hand and nuzzled his cheek on it.

"Noona." Chanyeol whispered as he felt his eyes sting again. Sehun looked away as he felt like he's seeing something he shouldn't. Should he leave or what?

"Where have you been, you dumbo? I bet you're working too hard that you forgot your noona." You tried lightening up the mood as you felt the tears on your hand. You noticed Sehun look away, probably uncomfortable with seeing such a dramatic scene. Chanyeol shook his head.

"N-No." He said, his voice hoarse and rough as if he's been crying all day long. "I-I won't ever forget noona."

Your eyes softened more as Chanyeol gripped on your hand as if you're gonna disappear anytime.

"I know you wouldn't, Yeol."

You glanced at the awkward boy in front of the bed and grinned.

You'll just let Chanyeol willingly tell his secret once he's ready. You won't question him anymore.

"Sehun-ah." You called him, making his head turn to you in surprise. "Thank you."

Sehun felt his cheeks flushed as you gave him your sweet smile again. He's never felt this way before, has he?

"T-That's nothing, noona. I know Yeol will probably kill me if I didn't help you." Sehun looked away as you continued smiling at him. "Yeah, welcome."

The door opened and the Dr. Zhang with your mother came in. A few nurses came to check your vitals too and bring your breakfast. Dr. Zhang saw the two young boys beside your bed and glanced at your mother before speaking.

"How do you feel, Yeoreum-ah?" He asked as you slowly sat up straight with the help of Chanyeol.

"I'm fine, doc. I just feel a little numb and..." You glanced at the food beside your bed as you licked your lips. "...hungry."

Sehun quietly laughed to himself as Chanyeol smiled. Your mother shook her head but a small smile was there on her lips. Dr. Zhang sighed in relief as he checked your condition.

"No body pain?"

"None."

"Headache?"

"Nope, just a little dizzy, I guess."

"Hmm. Does your chest still tighten like before?"

Your gaze dropped as your fist automatically went to your chest. You felt your heartbeat normal and calm.

"It did." You looked up at him. "A few times before but I think it's not that painful kind of tightening of my chest. It's—uhm..."

How can I tell that some of those times are probably just caused by my female hormones?!

"But it did ache before I passed out. I think it's more than two times from before." You scratched the back of your head as you sucked at remembering things. Dr. Zhang nodded as he wrote on his clipboard.

"Do you know what might trigger your attack?" He asked, making you look at the two boys beside your bed. They were both staring at you as they waited for your answer.

"I think it might be stress? Worrying? Or any emotional kinds of thoughts?" You bit your lower lip as you didn't know what you're talking about. But Dr. Zhang just nodded as he pushed his glasses up.

"Very well then. Please eat your breakfast well and drink lots of water. I'll be back to check on you later." Dr. Zhang smiled at you before he nodded at your mother and left the room with the nurses.

"Was I the cause of your sudden attack, noona?"

Chanyeol's question threw you off guard. You turned to him with panicked eyes.

"No! Why would you be?" You grabbed his hands as you shook your head.

"I worried you too much, didn't I?"

Your eyes softened as Chanyeol couldn't meet your eyes. Your mother prepared your breakfast as Sehun helped her, probably giving you two some time to talk comfortably.

"You did but don't ever blame yourself for this, okay? It's no one's fault." You said as you reached for his head, making him bow to you. He nodded in defeat before leaning his head on your shoulder. You ruffled his hair. "My Yeollie's a grown up man now. I hope you're doing well always."

Seeing his best friend in the brink of crying his heart out, Sehun entered the scene with a tray of your breakfast.

"Get off, Yeol. Noona's gonna have her breakfast, hurry." Sehun exclaimed as he softly kicked Chanyeol on his shin, making the other groan.

"So rude." Chanyeol muttered as your mother laugh at the sight.

"I feel like I have two sons and a daughter."

"Where's Chanhee though?" You suddenly asked as Sehun blew on your soup to decrease the heat.

"She's at home—"

"She's alone then?!" You said as you glared at Chanyeol.

"Mom and dad comes home before 6, so she's not alone, noona." Chanyeol explained as he took a sip of his coffee made by Ga-in.

"What about you two?"

"We stay here." Chanyeol and Sehun said at the same time with grins on their faces.

"I want to go home, mom."

"Yah. So mean, noona."

"You should stay for a week before going home. They still need to examine—"

"Where'd you get the money though?" You asked before eating a piece of boiled egg from the soup.

You're suddenly surprised with the silence that took over the room. You could've heard a pin drop with only your chewing sounds in the background. Sehun sat up straight from his seat beside your bed before putting your bowl on the bedside table. Chanyeol almost drowned himself with his coffee as he crossed his legs on the couch. Your mother was just silently watching your younger brother.

"Where'd you get the money for the hospital bills, mom?" You asked again as if you're not getting suspicious of their actions. Ga-in took a last glance at your brother before looking back at you with a smile.

"Your uncle Seungri lent us a little help for the bills, Yeoreum-ah. He wanted to make sure you're still okay."

You breathed out in relief as you leaned back on the bed. Sehun brought up the bowl again to you as if asking if you want more.

"No, I'm full already. Just give me water."

Sehun put down the bowl before reaching the new water bottle near him. He gave it to you after opening the lid. You stared into his eyes for a moment as if trying to find something in them.

But he just adorably blinked at you.

You lost your confidence and looked away as you drank your water.

You're getting really suspicious.

 ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗ ❥ ✗

"Unnie!"

You opened your arms as Chanhee jumped into them with tearful eyes and a happy grin.

"What? Are you trying to cry or smile?" You chuckled as she hugged you tight.

"Both, unnie." She answered with a sniff. "I missed you."

"Aww." You cooed as you swayed her small body slightly. "My sweet little dongsaeng."

"She's probably ogling over and stalking those college boys. She's not sweet, she's a stalker." Chanyeol butted in as he walked past you two but not before sticking a tongue out at Chanhee.

"That Yoda!" Chanhee exclaimed as she pulled away from your hug before running after her brother.

"Behave, you two!" You heard your mother scold them inside the house.

"Those kids." You mumbled with a smile. You were about to get inside with them when you remembered someone. "Sehun!" You called as you turned around.

"I thought you forgot me, noona." Sehun grinned as he walked towards you. You suddenly engulfed him in a tight hug, causing him to stumble back a little. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist to refrain from falling with you on the cold ground.

Sehun was scared.

"Thank you, Sehun-ah. I don't know what happened back there but it seems like my brother's back. I know you must've done something about it."  You mumbled on his neck as you tiptoed a little to reached his ears but failed. "Thank you for being a good neighbor. I think we really clicked in a short time. I thought different about you at first, knowing you're playboy and a flirt but..." You chuckled as slightly pulled away to stare into his eyes with a smile. You saw how his eyes soften at the sight of yours, making you wonder how can his sharp eyes turn into the softest ones you have ever seen.

"...you're a great person, Sehun."

"I'm scared, noona." Sehun whispered as he pulled you closer, nuzzling his head on your neck this time. You furrowed your brows as you felt his pulse going faster.

He must be so scared.

"Why?" You asked as you slightly rubbed his back, thinking he's going through something big.

Sehun just shook his head, tickling your neck with his soft hair as he hummed in reply.

He probably just need comfort from someone, huh? After all, he's alone right now.

You smiled as you closed your eyes and let the young boy take comfort from your warm embrace.

What you didn't know was...

Sehun was scared that when you let go, you'll just disappear from his sight and never appear again.

Now that he's fallen, he doesn't ever want to get up again.

Even though he knows he will still remain broken in the end.

—

❥ Ch.15

[systematicfailure]

The Weight of the World and All Its Soldiers, part one.

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: With anxious hands, you reenter the world, forced to rebuild your life from the ground up. No place to call home, frequent nightmares and a thrumming power buzzing in your veins you don’t understand, can you really be free? The strangers, calling themselves the Avengers, reveal that it might not be so hard after all. 

Warnings: Dark themes - torture, death, gunshots

Word Count: 2.7k

“Tell me, do you fear death, 81?” 

A long exhale sounded in the air, followed by a plume of smoke. Each corner of the four-by-four cell you called home for the past twenty-odd years of your short life were coated in grime, the white painted concrete walls were chipped and cracked in more places than not. By now, you knew the fragility of your stance in a place like this, had known it ever since the man behind the vibranium door stole the light from your eyes. 

You were only six when it happened, an age where you didn’t know any better. Not like the naïve, child version of you stood a chance. Truthfully, it was an elaborate plan, concocted before you were able to draw your first breath of life, enacted on numerous occasions. Still, maybe if you were just a bit older, a smidgen wiser, a tad more careful that fateful night, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. You can still remember the dance of the carousel in the distance, the smooth transitions of the horses ascending and descending, as your hand left the loose confines of your mother’s, who was too distracted to notice. Your baby brother’s curious eyes trailed after you, a toothy grin appearing between the gap of his two front teeth when you winked back at him. The dust had risen from the gravel underneath your pounding feet as you took off, child-like glee surfacing in your eyes that reflected the colorful bulbs of light. Even though you could hear the frantic cries of your mother’s voice grow distant, your feet never stopped, too intent on reaching the swing of the plastic animals. 

If you had been smarter, you would’ve realized that your doe-eyes stood no chance against the bored ones of the teenager manning the entry stand. You would have turned away and went back the way you came to find your worried mom. Things would have turned out much simpler if you had. You didn’t.

“Sorry, kid. No ticket, no ride.” 

The beginnings of a protest formed on your lips before a heavy hand landed on your shoulder, stopping your reply in its tracks. The man dwarfed your height, his shadow cascading over your shoulder as he stood behind you. The inner workings of a deceitful grin stretched across his chapped lips, an arm circling around your thin frame. He bent down at the waist, snaking his head past your body to get a good look at your face. With a small hum of approval, he straightened back up, pulling a maroon ticket from his jacket pocket, a twinkle appearing in his coal eyes. 

“Here ya go, sorry about my daughter. You know how kids can get.” 

You should have denied it, this man was definitely not your father but he was right. You were a kid, one desperately looking to just get on the dang carousel already so your lips stayed closed, a slightly uncomfortable smile etching its way along your mouth as the man ushered you up the stairs, ignoring the faint confusion brimming in the dark-haired teenager. Maybe if he had stared a little longer at your retreating figures, he might have realized that the man came from the complete opposite direction. 

Once you got on the horse of your choice, a white mare with a splotch of black around it’s right eye and speckled brown spots littered throughout its torso, you forgot about the strangeness of the man next to you, about the lead hand that never left your shoulder but only seemed to grow tighter, because your serotonin levels were at an all-time high and nothing could bring you down from the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

You swung in time with music, laughter bubbling in your throat and bursting forth in an excited squeal. He had turned to you then, the grin from before easing into a half-smirk you missed as your arms pushed outwards, fingers waving through the cool evening breeze of early fall. The joy ravaging your body was insurmountable, worries long forgotten. 

There’s a cruel lesson you’ve learned in life, one that has weighed down your soul and robbed the breath from your lungs. At first, you were too young to see it. Then, too scared to admit it. The world would not let you so easily forget, it’d force its snake-like grip around you until you were choking on the vile truth of it all. 

All good things must come to an end. 

When the ride ceased its course, lulling to a stop, the man whose name you’d soon learn to be Dr. Frazier, grabbed your hand. With a steady yank, he pulled you up and off the plastic saddle, leading you into the direction you briefly recalled when exiting your mom’s car earlier. A wrinkle appeared between your brows, head twisting around to watch the fair lights grow dimmer as you grew closer to the parking lot. Where was he taking you? You didn’t want to leave! You hadn’t done nearly enough yet, there was still the teacups your mom had promised you could take your brother on once she finished getting you guys the elephant ear you had so craved when first entering. 

“Hey, Mister! Let me go!” You said, a huff escaping as you dug your heels into the gravel. It was ill timed as your body was tugged forward from his brisk pace, collapsing onto the sharp pebbles. A cry escaped your lips at the feeling, rocks tearing into the flesh of your legs that weren’t protected because of the bright red shorts you wore. The sting of blood radiated against your scraped knees, your bottom lip folding beneath your front teeth causing tears to rush forth and burn the corners of your eyes. Dr. Frazier let out an agitated sigh, bending at the knees as he towered over your cowering frame. 

“Listen here, дурак. I’m only going to say this once. You’re going to get up, dust yourself off and follow me obediently to the car. I don’t wanna hear another word, got it?” He snapped, roughly grabbing you by the shoulders. After a shaky nod from you, his features relaxed into an almost serene smile. At the sight of it, you had to hold back a flinch. How could a man so quickly change faces at the drop of a hat? 

Raising on trembling legs, you stood. 

“Good girl. Now, come along. I have some people I want you to meet.”

If your six years of life had taught you anything, it was that you were anything but. Time and time again, you tested the patience of your parents, whether that be by throwing flour across kitchen counters at your siblings while your father made dinner or by the simple nature in which you radiated constant energy. Your mom always blamed it on your age but as you grew older and your legs never stopped bouncing or shifting in place, they had begun questioning it. 

By age five, you were in the doctor’s office of your local pediatric hospital, eyes darting to and fro as your foot tapped a frantic rhythm on the linoleum floor. When the kind lady doctor entered the room, you shot up out of your seat, your mouth spouting off random sentences that your mind jumbled together in the effort to leave the confines of your head. From then on, it had been an upheaval battle to focus your thoughts. You wanted to be better because you saw the exhaustion in the gaze of your parents but you didn’t know how. You had so much to say and so little time to say it, you couldn’t help the fact that your senses were constantly bombarded by everything and nothing, all at once. 

So it took you by no surprise that once your nerves calmed ever so slightly, you threw yourself into a sprint, away from the man that you finally realized wanted to hurt you. Your freedom was short-lived, your legs only so long, your feet only so fast. Dr. Frazier was back on you in seconds, the deserted parking lot doing nothing to aid in your attempt to escape. He whirled you around, behemoth of a hand shuttering its way across your mouth to silence your scream. In no time, he had hoisted you up, slamming your head against the collar of his shirt. You kicked and screamed, making all the effort but to strangers, it would only appear to be a father quieting his daughter’s tantrum. 

He had taken advantage of your childish urges, used them against you, and you had been paying the price ever since. The experiments had started shortly after but that was a time you refused to look back on. You did that enough in your nightmares. You wished desperately that you were back in your mother’s hold, to hear the sound of your brother’s babbling. To remember your father’s face, to see their smiles and just be whole again. No fears, no trauma, no pain.

You wished for all of those things but you had lost the hope of them a lifetime ago. 

Another long exhale broke you out of reverie but this time, smoke did not follow, and the sound was accompanied by the flare of Dr. Frazier’s nostrils. He never was happy when you ignored him, of course. 

Making eye contact with his flaming, coal irises, your expression settled into a neutral one. You had long since stopped giving him the satisfaction of any one emotion. 

“No, sir.” You spoke precisely, both words enunciated with clear intent. He did not suffer a bumbling fool, the angry, red lashes on your back attested to that. 

You did not fear death, for it is only in harboring it, will you be set free. Going so far as to fool yourself into believing that you would welcome it with open arms. God, you were tired. Tired of experiments, of the constant need to please, of sacrificing every part of yourself for the good of someone else. You wondered when it would be enough, if it would ever be enough? Hope was such a fickle thing, it fleeted carelessly each passing day. Back before you knew better, you held onto it in tightly fisted grips but all it ever did was crunch beneath the weight and fall in shattered remains through pleading hands. It no longer bore any life into aching bones and dull eyes. 

A smirk fused itself into the corners of Dr. Frazier’s mouth, an airy chuckle blowing residual smoke from tar-tainted lungs, further proven by the dry hacking that produced droplets of blood that fell to the floor near your feet. A surge of satisfaction ran through you at the sight but you quelled it before your lips could uptick. 

The lock to your cell door clicked, signaling its unlocking as the rest of his body came into view. 

“Time for another trial, 81. Maybe death will show its face for you this time.” Four armed guards flanked around you, forming a rough diamond shape once you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. Dr. Frazier took his place at front, a single guard in-between the two of you. Fresh faces, it would seem. Your head tilted vaguely at the thought, surveying your surroundings without moving your head. The only guard you couldn’t see was the one directly behind you but you caught a glimpse of him when exiting your room. He was fidgeting with his rifle, eyes skirting between everyone and a nervous breath breaking into the silence. 

The guard to your left held none of those same ticks, face cold and closed off. The one on the right held himself in the same way. To your luck, the one in front shared similar traits to the guard behind you, with faltering steps and bated breaths. If you so desired, you could risk an escape but the humming shackles tightly enclosed around your wrists served to remind you that you were currently powerless, rendering the jolt of energy that rumbled in your veins null. You couldn’t remember the last time they were taken off. 

Following obediently, you were led past multiple corridors, mindlessly counting and naming off each turn even though you already knew the path by heart. Left, right, right, left, right. Coming to a halt, you took in the familiar sight of yet another vibranium door. As you passed the threshold, the room before you opened up. The back wall had a floor to ceiling one-way mirror, hiding the onlookers from view that you knew watched every single trial. The rest of the walls were made of the same metal as the door you came through, free of scratches and dents unlike your own cell walls. In the middle of the room sat a lone recliner chair, facing away from you, a neuro-brain scanner attached to the headrest. “You know what to do, 81.” 

Fate was a cruel mistress.

You made your way to the chair, your arms extended so that Dr. Frazier could attach the long, threaded chain to your cuffs. An inaudible sigh reached your tongue as he tightened the scanner around your chin before the chair drew back with a hiss. Your eyes closed on instinct when he pressed a series of buttons on the rollaway computer but snapped open soon after when you felt his presence on your left. In his hand was a syringe filled with a frosted liquid, stark in color against his tanned skin. You shook your head at the sight of it, knowing its purpose. 

Lights out. 

The needle fell from his grasp as alarms blared overhead, a frantic look overcoming Dr. Frazier’s features. Quickly, he paced back over to the computer, fingers anxiously typing out a shutdown sequence and subsequent wipe of all systems. The screen flashed, a loading bar steadily creeping. Five percent complete. A round of muffled footsteps echoed behind the trial room door, drawing closer as multiple gunshots were fired and a strange clang cut through the noise. Twenty percent complete. Sweat gathered on your forehead, glistening in a light sheen as he swiped the syringe from the floor. Swift footfalls drew near as Frazier plunged the sharp point into your skin, emptying the liquid. Thirty-two percent complete. Your body seized, rattling in the seat, a spluttering cough leaving your chest. 

“Time’s up, дурак. The Reaper shall be the one to pay your dues now.” Frazier whispered menacingly in your ear, a loose hand digging into his lab coat pockets -- two different but cylindrical pills resurfacing in his grasp. His beady eyes swept over your convulsing form, fingers reaching to comb the long bangs plastered to your head, longingly. Pressing his palm to your forehead to stabilize your movement, the white capsule in his fist settled over your mouth, forcing its way past your clenched teeth. 

The processing bar jumped. Seventy-two percent complete. 

“Hail Hydra.” Dr. Frazier popped the other, black in color, tablet down his throat. The reaction was almost instantaneous, one moment his feet were grounded on the floor and the next, his lean body doubled over, choked gasps foaming down his chin. You looked on, wincing as your brain pounded against your skull. The veins in your forearms rose from deep beneath your skin, forming almost thick strings that cascaded throughout your flesh. He had granted himself a quick, painless death but had not given you the same luxury. 

Ninety-five percent complete.

You had lied to Frazier earlier, you were completely terrified to die. You still wanted to taste freedom for the first time in twenty years, you wanted home cooked meals and soothing drawls to talk down all the fear you were forced to face. You wanted to learn, about anything and everything, however useless the skill or hard the task. You wanted the forest and all its trees, the ocean and its rumbling waves. The shore, the moon, the endless expanse of stars. Selfishly, you wanted it all. Everything you had missed out on because a cruel man decided he had the right to take it away. So, please. You thought, as your head swam, vision blurring as you heard the door behind you bang open. Rushed footfalls drawing closer as you caught a faint glimpse of red hair and a glimmer of urgent voices before the darkness took over. 

Let me be free.

Error: Shutdown cancelled.

[paradisobound]

Piecing Together My Mind

Written for the Reverse Big Bang 2017!

Summary: When Dan is the victim of a terrible car accident, he suffers unbelievable trauma to his brain. As a result, only a few doctors in the world can perform the operation that is needed for him to recover: one the doctors being Phil Lester from America. Through the surgery and his recovery, Phil is there for him every step of the way, leading them into a spiral of love no one can predict, which eventually gains attention and popularity through a book written by Dan. 

Artist: @audaw

Beta: @carditawrites

Rating: Mature (for the themes involved)

Warnings: hospital settings, car accident, surgery

Word Count: 10,763

Authors Note: When I first began to write this fic, it came really easily and I was so happy with it. The car accident depicted was actually based upon my own car accident, just more dramatically, because I felt like I needed to vent it out and this fic was perfect for it. Through the process of writing, I went from nearly finishing it in one sitting to not touching it for months, and then finishing it all in one sitting. And it’s been a ride lol. But I seriously wouldn’t be able to do it without the help of my awesome beta @carditawrites because she literally helped give me so much inspiration for this! I really hope you all enjoy it as well! Happy reading! :) 

  In hindsight, Dan should have stayed home. He shouldn’t have attempted to get into his car and drive off in the severe downpour that was washing away the streets. He should have just waited until it stopped. But at the time, he thought the rain was going to stop and he would be able to make it to his parent’s house.

His mind was already clouded with dark afterthoughts and his eyes were blurry with unshed tears as the thought of the break up plagued his head. Maybe if Damien had just waited a few more hours, he wouldn’t have felt so inclined to travel back to his parents’ home in a complete downpour.

Dan could barely see the road in front of him, his headlights not making much of a leeway in this darkness. The glare from the lines on the road weren’t helping his already blurred eyes. Maybe he should have just pulled off and wait until the rain lets up. There wasn’t even a way that he could continue to drive in this.

But his mind told him that he was going to fine and the weather was going to change. The rain was going to stop soon and he would run out of it. So he powered on, his fists gripping the steering wheel tightly to the point where his knuckles were white; his foot moving over the gas pedal and then to the break when he needed to slow down.

He didn’t even know how long he had been driving now. It had been at least an hour. Maybe he wasn’t even going in the right direction. To be fair, he couldn’t tell. His windshield wipers were going as fast as they could and they still weren’t fast enough. They were beating away the rain that Dan just willed to stop so he could get to the safe haven of his parents. He craved their attention in ways that he couldn’t nearly describe. All he wanted to do was cry to them about how much he loved Damien and how heart broken he was.

The slip… he felt it within the first couple seconds. The tires on the car were fighting to pass through the water that was on the road. Dan’s foot found the break and he pressed it, willing his car to slow down but it wasn’t working. The back of his car had a mind of it’s own, swinging out right and he heard the noise. Metal on metal in a collision that will forever haunt Dan’s mind.

He didn’t remember what happened after that. Maybe a couple of turns and possibly some more colliding. All he knew was that the airbags deployed, leaving his flesh with black and blue marks that would later sting when he took a breath.

For the first few moments after the accident, Dan was conscious enough to realize the severity of it all. His car was upside down somewhere and his head burned with pain. His limbs felt tired and exhausted and he knew he needed to get out, call for help and pray that someone would come by and see him.

He went to move when his arm felt like it was grinding against shard glass. He cried out, trying his best to just escape but he knew he wasn’t going to do this by himself. He needed to get help.

His arm was moving to the passenger seat for his phone when he heard the first siren come. It was far enough away where the sound didn’t hurt his ears but close enough that he knew he was going to get help.

But he didn’t get to see the police officers and ambulance arrive, because his sight went black just moments before and his body fell limp.

The distant beeping was what pulled him from the void that clouded his mind. He opened his eyes and then immediately closed them when white fluorescent lights filled his vision. It was too bright in there: he needed it to be darker.

His body had other plans though, and his eyes reopened. It took a moment to adjust before he processed where he even was. Was he dead? Was this heaven? Was that why he was suddenly being blinded by the light? He was no believer in God but maybe after this, he would be.

After a moment of adjustment, he was able to come to his senses and realize that he was in an all white room. Cords littered the floors as they led out of his body in various places. The distant beeping wasn’t a weird noise that he was just hearing; it was his heart monitor.

His eyes hurt to adjust but quickly a pair of blue scrubs came into view and he opened them wider to see who was in front of him. A perky blonde in all blue scrubs was stood at his bedside, a clipboard in hand and stethoscope around her neck. “Good morning, Mr. Howell. We’re extremely happy to see you’re awake!”

Dan turned his head and whimpered at the ache of pain in his neck. His muscles felt stiff and unmoved, his mouth felt like cotton and as he opened it to ask for pain meds, he realized he wanted water a lot more. “Wa—wat—water,” he croaked out.

The nurse quickly moved around the bed and came back with a clear cup filled with the cool liquid. She handed it to Dan, who reached up to grab it when he realized he couldn’t move his arm very fell. Maybe it was the stiff muscles, but it took some shaky movements to get to the cup where the nurse helped him ingest the refreshing liquid.

When the cup was empty, the nurse moved it back to the side before looking him over. “How is your pain, Mr. Howell?”

“H-hurts,” he croaked out, his head now pounding and his lower body radiating pain. He didn’t know if it was from the movements he was doing now after being dormant for so long or from the accident…

The accident. The memory suddenly flooded his head. He had gotten into a car accident: he knew that much, but he couldn’t remember what happened or what had caused it.

“Well, we can't have you be in pain, can we?” the blonde stated as she picked up a syringe and injected the liquid medication into his IV. The long tube was connected to an area in his arm, scaring him slightly, but he looked like a machine being fed by wires.

Nearly instantly, his pain began to lesson and he relaxed into the bed, noting the terrible quality of the mattress he was lying on. “Do you know what happened, Dan?”

The sudden use of his first name made him turn his head a lot quicker than he should have. He groaned inwardly to himself at the movement and willed his muscles to relax to ease the pain. “No,” he finally said softly, his voice hoarse and raspy.

“Well, I’ll wait for the doctor to tell you then,” she said sympathetically. “You were conscious for the first few minutes in the hospital and I didn’t know if you were aware then?”

Dan shook his head softly, leaning back into the bed and shutting his eyes. Just this simple conversation was using all of his energy. He felt drained and ready to sleep all over again. He just wanted to relax further.

“You’re welcome to relax, Dan,” she said gently. “The doctor is now aware that you are awake and he’ll be wanting to speak with you soon, okay?”

Dan wanted to nod, but instead he let go of a shallow breath and shut his eyes. He let the nurse continue her routine vital checks as he felt poked and prodded all over again. She checked his breathing, his blood pressure, his IV drip, and a bit more that Dan couldn’t tell.

It wasn’t long after she was finished that he heard a soft knock against the door and the creak of it opening. He opened his eyes long enough to notice a tall middle aged man with a white coat enter his room. This had to be the doctor. His grey hair and glasses gave way that he was an experienced man and Dan didn’t know if that made him feel better or not.

“Are you finished, Louise?” the male boomed out in a deep voice.

The nurse, called Louise, nodded her head before exiting the room and taking the cart of equipment with her in the process. Meanwhile, the doctor was now pulling up a seat next to Dan’s bed, which scared Dan because this had to be obviously serious. There would be no other reason for the doctor to be sitting, other than telling him bad news. Maybe he was going to die after all.

The thought scared him more than the idea of being hurt.

“How are you feeling, Dan?”

Dan felt the urge to shrug his shoulders, but he didn’t know if he was able to do that action so he just replied, “Okay,” instead.

“Well, that’s good,” The doctor noted. “My name is Dr. Meny and I was your surgeon last night.”

Surgeon. Dan knew that wasn’t good. He had gone through surgery and never even known it.

“You see,” Dr. Meny continued. “If you cannot remember, you were the victim of a very serious car crash. You were brought to me at the emergency room last night, and had appeared fine. However, after just a few minutes within the ER, you began to fall into a seizure. Unknowing what could have caused this, we notified your next of kin - your parents - and they told us you had no history of seizures. Confused, we performed a CT Scan of the brain and noticed that you have swelling, which is what we call cerebral edema, or excess fluid within the walls of the brain cells. Now, noting this, our next priority was decreasing the pressure as much as possible because if there is a lot of pressure inside the skull, blood will not flow to that section of the brain and therefore, it can lead to very serious health conditions. This includes seizures, strokes, and even death.” He paused for a moment.

Dan took the time to process what he was hearing and a single tear escaped down his cheek as he thought the worst. He was going to die and this was the doctor telling him that he only had a short time to live. He knew it. Reaching a hand up, he felt the bandage around his head that he had never felt before. He moved his hand back down and allowed for the doctor to speak to him more.

“Now, do not think that this isn’t treatable,” Dr. Meny said reassuringly. “This can be treatable and that is why we operated last night in an emergency surgery. We went in and tried to relieve the pressure by removing some of the extra fluid because, you see, when the accident occurred, you did damage to your head. And I'm sure you probably are feeling the symptoms of it, like memory loss.” Dan nodded slowly, because he was experiencing that.“But the surgery was unsuccessful. We were not able to remove that fluid.”

“So what does that mean?” Dan asked just as soon as the doctor's words were finished. “Why wasn’t it able to fixed if it’s treatable?”

“Well, here is the thing,” The doctor began, “We think that there is something further inside of the brain that isn’t allowing for the swelling to go down. We think there is some trauma further down that we are not seeing. Since we are not specialists on the brain, we can only do so much.”

“But what can I do?” Dan pleaded. “What options are there for me?”

The doctor pulled out a notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped open the cover, “In the time that you have been recovering, we have found three surgeons in the world that are able to work inside the brain in a precise way that will not damage the brain. We have contacted all of them and two have responded,” he pulled out a pen and wrote some things on his notepad. “However, until we can find out which one will be willing to take on your case, we are obligated not to disclose their information.”

Dan seethed inside of his head. Why couldn’t he know who would be opening his head up and drilling into his brain? Wasn’t he important enough to find out?

“When will we find out?”

“Well,” Dr. Meny began. “We heard back from one of the two doctors, this one being from America, who is willing to fly out and consult you to do the surgery. However, we have not heard back from the other doctor—”

“I want the first one,” Dan spat out. “I want the one that is willing to fly from America to here to do my procedure.”

“Are you sure?” Dr. Meny asked, scribbling something else on his notepad.

“Yes,” Dan spoke out. “I want them to do the procedure because they’re clearly willing to fly over here to see me, so they deserve to operate on me.”

“But this needs careful—”

“Why?” Dan asked in a spiteful manner. “Why would I need to be careful about this? My brain is swelled. Remember, you told me so. This could mean so much and…” Dan felt his voice get choked up. “I want to be able to have a doctor who wants to do the procedure for me instead of doing it for the money. That’s all.”

“Dan, I just want to reiterate that—”

“I know,” Dan interrupted, “I want that doctor.”

Dr. Meny sighed and wrote something more on his notepad before standing up from his sitting position, “I will have my secretary contact the doctor and we’ll go from there.”

“Am I able to know the doctors name now?” Dan asked, relaxing into the bed as a strong headache began to form in the back of his skull.

“His name is Dr. Philip Lester and he’s a prized Neurosurgeon from Los Angeles.”

Dan nodded, half listening to the words as the pain in his head began to radiate towards his eyes and his vision clouded. Groaning in discomfort, he squeezed his eyes shut and gripped onto the blankets of his hospital bed with white knuckles as he willed for the pain meds to take over and take away this God-awful pain.

His wish was soon granted as he slipped into a black void as his body refused to fight the pain.

They had him Skype with Dr. Lester that afternoon, following the arrival of Dan’s parents who were worried sick over their son. Dr. Meny had reassured Dan multiple times that he was going to be okay and that he could do all normal, everyday things but he just had to be wary of his head and hitting it on surfaces too hard. For instance, like Dr. Lester later explained, lying down in bed or on a couch too fast.

But that still didn’t help his worry.

With his laptop sat on the conveniently placed table, he Skyped with this Philip Lester and felt his worries simultaneously diminish and also increase. On the screen, Dr. Lester appeared to be extremely professional as he spoke to Dan in the comfort of his office. The time difference was very clear but that didn’t seem to affect Dr. Lester at all.

Dr. Lester explained to Dan that his life was not going to be affected at all if he can help it. In fact, he had already booked a flight straight to the UK to see Dan the following day which Dan thought was extremely generous. He’d never heard of a doctor doing this before but in all honesty, he liked that.

The Skype call didn’t last long, because Dr. Lester told him that he was going to consult with him tomorrow more about what he can do to help Dan out. In the meantime, Dan was just worried about something else happening to alter his already swelled mind.

This worry was aggravated since earlier in the day, just as Dr. Meny was about to leave, Dan fell into another seizure that he had to be brought out of. He came out exhausted and ready to collapse. He couldn’t remember that it happened, but he had a sinking feeling that it had occurred.

Once Dan was alone with his parents again, they questioned him about Damien. But Dan didn’t even know who Damien was. Apparently, Damien was Dan’s boyfriend., but Dan couldn’t remember him. He didn’t even know of anyone named Damien.

A picture was showed to him from his nearly destroyed mobile phone which confirmed to him that he, in fact, did know a Damien and he was somehow involved with Dan. Another quick look at his text messages proved that whatever he had with Damien had fizzled out because of another person named “Becky”.

“Are you sure that you don’t remember him, Dan?” Dan’s father stated in a helpful manner as he sat at Dan’s bedside.

Dan shook his head as slowly and carefully as possible because no, he did not remember him. Frankly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. It had to be a blessing that his short term memory was altered so he couldn’t remember Damien and anything he did.

“Well, I guess that’s okay,” Dan’s mother piped in, “Right, John?”

Dan’s father nodded before reaching out and taking Dan’s hand in his own, squeezing his palm gently. Dan looked down at their clasped hands and smiled. He will be forever grateful for the love and support he received from his parents all this time.

“So the doctor comes in tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes, he should be here in the morning.”

“But when will the surgery be?”

Dan shrugged his shoulders carefully. “Hopefully soon,” he said. “I don’t want any more damage to be done and I want whatever damage I do have to be fixed.”

“We know, Daniel,” his mother added. “But we’re very scared right now.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

Dan tried to fake a smile to tell her that he was okay but it faltered and tears cascaded down his cheeks like a stream. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be okay. He always joked about death but now that he was on the verge of death, it was terrifying him. He never got to fulfill his life. He hadn’t done what he was set out to do. If he was to die now, he wouldn’t have a lasting impression on anyone.

He needed to be remembered by something. If he didn’t make a lasting impression, then what did he ever do with his life besides waste it away?

A book.

Dan was going to write a book. But a book on what? He was fighting within himself mentally to the point where he was giving himself another headache. What would he write a book about?

Then the idea hit him.

He would write a book about this. About the car accident and what he remembered; about his fight for life as his brain swelled; about the doctor who was gonna save his life. He was gonna write a memoir. He was already thinking of the ideas for it in his head.

He was going to make a difference. If he survived this battle, he was going to show everyone what he went through: the seizures that he never used to have; the memory loss; everything.

“What are your thoughts right now, Daniel?” His mother asked, placing a hand over his fathers that was still clasped in Dan’s own hand.

“I want to survive this,” Dan stated, with a newfound courage in his voice. “I will survive this. Dr. Lester will help me. He’ll heal me and find the damage that is causing my seizures and pain.”

“Yes, Daniel,” she added. “God is looking over you in ways that we cannot believe.”

Dan had to agree with her words. He was a self-proclaimed Atheist but even he had to admit that this was somewhat of a miracle.

“Why don’t you get some rest, Daniel?” His father said suddenly, reaching behind him and undoing their hands so he could fluff Dan’s pillows, “I think you deserve to sleep for a little bit and rest your eyes.”

Dan had to agree with that as well. He was exhausted in ways that he simply couldn’t describe. His eyelids weighed heavily on his lashes and his mouth fought back a yawn. Shutting his eyes, this time with his own control, he relaxed into the bed and succumbed to the brink of sleep that was overtaking him.

“Dan.” Louise, his nurse, spoke as he carefully chewed away at a piece of toast. “Dr. Lester has just arrived to the hospital and is requesting to see you immediately. Is it okay for him to come in?”

Dan nodded, finishing up his bite of food before brushing the crumbs off from his hands onto the bedding that was surrounding his tired and bruised legs. He saw his body for the first time last night when he used the bathroom. The mirror didn’t lie when it showed him a discolored face with a bruised left side; cuts and scratches that littered his stomach and bruises that littered his chest, and the dark marks that stung on his thighs when he walked. He nearly cried because for the first time in his life, Dan didn’t recognize the man staring back at him in the mirror.

He had one more seizure that night. He woke up briefly before he fell into it, the machines going crazy as this one became the strongest and worst one yet that Dan has experienced. The nurses murmured about him. He heard their talk as they all discussed how Dan needs to be seen. The more seizures he has, the worse his brain would be and the more damage he would have: permanent damage that would change his life forever.

Dan’s parents were waiting in agony to hear about what Dr. Lester has to say. They wanted to stay by Dan’s side but Dan didn’t want them to worry so he sent them to a hotel for the night instead. He was sure that they were probably at the hospital, sitting in the waiting room while they thought Dan was still asleep. And hell, Dan still would be, considering the time was six in the morning but he had to be woken up for vital checks every few hours and they got the best of him last night.

“Yes,” Dan said to Louise, “I’m really eager to see him.”

Nearly a minute later, a soft knock echoed into his room and Dan watched as the door slowly opened. A raven haired man walked through the door with glasses that bridged the top of his nose. When he turned to Dan’s direction, Dan felt all breath leave his body as he stared into his deep blue eyes.

This had to be Dr. Lester.

“Pleasure to finally see you, Dan.,” He spoke with soft, careful words. “I’m sure you already know but incase you don’t, I’m Dr. Lester. It’s great to meet you in person and not over a webcam.”

Dan smiled at him. Not just a small friendly smile but a full big smile because he already felt better with him here. Dr. Lester gave off this presence that significantly made Dan feel better.

Dr. Lester’s hand stretched out to Dan’s and Dan took it in a warm handshake.“Nice to meet you too, Dr. Lester.”

“Oh please!” he said pulling up a seat next to Dan and taking out a medical chart. “You can call me Phil since I’m going to be seeing more of you than you probably want.”

Dan could have choked. Seriously, if he had been eating, he would have because that crude humor was exactly what Dan liked. He knew instantly he was going to like this guy.

“That came out really wrong,” Phil chuckled like a high schooler. “Oh, what a great first impression I have made. My excuse is that jet lag has gotten the better of me this morning.”

Before Dan could get any words in, Phil interjected again with the medical talk nearly immediately, “I have reviewed your CT scans and can tell already that the doctors here have missed a vital part of what is causing the swelling. From what I have seen, I can tell you are bleeding inside of your brain. The damage suffered is quite extensive and is quite definitely what is causing the seizures. Now, here is the problem: I will need to go into your brain within the next 24 hours because if any more bleeding occurs, life threatening instances will occur, and I don’t want that happening okay?”

Dan nodded slowly, having trouble keeping down his breakfast after hearing Phil’s words. Goosebumps crawled up his skin and prickled at his nerves. His stomach twisted into knots and squeezed as he processed the words that were just spoken to him. The more he thought about the phrase “life threatening instances will occur”, the worse his stomach felt and he temporarily looked around just in case he needed to expel his breakfast somewhere.  

“So what we are going to do, is that I’m going to do a final CT scan on you. What that scan is going to show is what I will be working with here. If your brain is swelled further, it’s going to make my job much more difficult. But do not worry! I will fix the problem,” Phil then leans over the bed, causing Dan to wonder what he’s doing until Phil shows him a graphic template of a brain on an iPad that shows exactly what Phil is going to do. “So here is the plan: you are going to be awake for the entire thing, just sedated. I am going to open up the cranial flap large enough to open the skull and reveal the brain. Once inside, I’m going to carefully relieve the fluid in a determined way so that all the swelling will decrease. Once the swelling goes down, I will go further into the brain and use a clamp to cut off the blood flow wherever you are bleeding. Once the bleeding is done, I’ll cauterize the artery. By the looks of it, the bleeding is coming from just above the cerebral cortex, which is a big deal because if the bleeding doesn't stop, you can go into shock. This can cause anything from paralysis to stroke, to an aneurism to death.” Dan nodded slowly to Phil’s words. “During the procedure, you’re going to be speaking with me. This is how I will know that I haven’t hit anything in the brain that can be life threatening. Do not be afraid, okay, Dan? Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’m really scared,” were the only words that came out of Dan’s mouth.

Phil nodded, pulling the iPad away and setting his belongings on the end of Dan’s bed. He reached out and grabbed Dan’s hand, noting the loss of color within Dan’s skin, and squeezed softly. Dan was shaking slightly, his body feeling fear from the impending operation. What Dan didn’t know was that Phil was nervous too but Phil couldn’t begin to even imagine the fear that must be setting inside of Dan as he spoke. “I know, Dan,” he said sympathetically  but at the same time he knew his words would be helpless. “I’m nervous too because this is the hardest procedure I’ve ever done, but I have full confidence that I’m going to get it. I’m going to heal you.”

Dan took a deep, shuddering breath before nodding and smiling softly at Phil. “I trust you.”

“I know,” Phil reiterated. “Now, I have to go over the risks. Anything done to the brain is a risk in itself. Although it’s never happened to me, one slip could be fatal. Any little slip from me and my scalpel can cause paralysis or death, but that’s not gonna happen.”

Dan nodded and took another deep breath, “So when does this happen?”

“If we can get your CT scan done this morning, I can do the surgery this afternoon.”

“That soon?”

Phil nodded. “The sooner the better.”

Phil’s hand released from Dan’s long enough for a new nurse to come in and begin prepping Dan’s for his CT Scan. Dan was amazed at the quick work of the doctors and nurses at this hospital, but Phil quickly mentioned that he put the order in as soon as he arrived this morning. Phil was just as shocked about the quick work.

Dan was wheeled to the nuclear imaging center of the hospital where he was shifted from his bed to another much less padded and much colder gurney. He was instructed to lay flat as they adjusted the lead protective shields around him. He’d groan and whimper if a nurse was too rough with him. Moments later, a loud voice boomed through the speaker next to him that caused him to relax: it was Phil.

“We’re about to start the scan now,” Phil said. “We’re going to move you inside of the camera now where you will be scanned. The test should go by fast and I’ll be here to speak with you the entire time.”

The bed underneath him suddenly shifted and he looked to see that he was moving forward into this cylinder that reminded him of a coffin. He felt like everything was closing in on him and he gripped the sheets under him, claustrophobia setting in.

“Dan,” Phil’s voice spoke out to him. “Dan? Can you calm down for us? Your heart rate and brain activity have suddenly spiked.”

“I’m sorry,” Dan spoke out, mostly in a whisper.

“It’s okay, Dan,” Phil coaxed. “Everything is going to be okay. I know that it’s hard to believe right now but you’re going to be okay.”

Dan didn’t move but he felt like he needed to relieve the pressure and tension from his shoulder blades. A weight was now sat on them, making him feel even more weighed down than the lead blanket that had given him to protect from radiation.

“Okay, we’re about to start the scan so stay as still as possible, got it?”

Dan didn’t reply. Instead he felt the hair on his body prickle up from the radiation. It made a small shiver go through his spine at the thought of the scan he was going through pumping his body full of toxic chemicals. But to Dan, this definitely isn’t the worst thing to happen right now. The worst thing would be him falling into a seizure on this gurney.

Dan could still feel and hear the buzzing around himself as the scan continued. He didn’t hear anything from Phil over the speaker for a while, until Phil told him the scan was almost over. Just a few moments after that, Dan heard the buzzing stop and he was soon being retracted from the cold metal tube he was just inside.

As Dan was helped back onto the gurney, his head throbbed with pain and he felt the need to reach out and grab onto whatever he could hold. Within moments, his vision blacked and his worst fears came true as he fell into another seizure: right there in the room as Phil ran to his help.

This one was a lot harder to come out of. His body was just so tired of fighting it and he wanted them to just stop completely. When he opened his eyes slowly, Phil was staring at him with concern laced over his face. He reached out, pushing Dan’s fringe away from his eyes and tucked it gently behind his ear. Dan relaxed into the touch, his body still tense and rigid.

“You won’t have this hair for much longer,” Phil said with a gentle smile. “But to be fair, I think you’ll look fine bald.”

“Hmm,” Dan voiced. “I don’t know about that.”

Dan’s words were slurred and showed of exhaustion.

Phil smiled at him. “We’re going to do your surgery in a few hours, okay?” he stated. “But when you keep falling into seizures, it makes it hard for us because we need to ensure you’re not going to have one when you’re being operated on.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Phil said, running his hands gently through Dan’s exposed hair. “I know they’re not your fault,” he said. “But do you know when you’re about to fall into one?”

Dan nodded softly. “I get a headache and then my vision blurs.”

“So you’ll be able to tell me if you start feeling one?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all I need to know,” Phil stated to Dan as he retracted his hand from Dan’s hair. Dan visibly shook from the cold chill he got when the touch was left. He felt like a puppy who just wanted to be petted and have attention. “After your recovery, do you think you would care to join me for lunch?”

Dan opened his eyes a little bit more, even though they were still heavy with exhaustion. “Possibly,” he spoke. “As long as you can guarantee that I’ll still be alive.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Dan smiled to himself, finding himself blushing at the forwardness that Phil was showing to him. He felt good at the presence of Phil. He liked having Phil here: it made him feel safe and secure.

“I need to go and get prepared but I’ll see you in a few hours okay?”

Dan smiled at him. “Okay, Dr. Lester.”

Phil smiled back at him as he stood up from where he was sat and walked towards the door. He gave Dan one last look before exiting the room, leaving Dan shaking like a leaf as the nerves of the surgery kicked in.

The operating room was cold. Dan had asked for a blanket as he sat up on the operating table. A back support for him braced against his spine as he was told he’d be sitting for awhile. According to Phil, the surgery could take anywhere from 2 hours to 8 hours depending on what he found once inside his brain. But regardless of the time it would take, Phil was going to fix him.

He was slowly being sedated with a list of medication that Dan didn’t even know. He was still awake but he was numb everywhere and couldn’t even move his own arm. The idea of being in a temporary paralysis was quite terrifying but the thought of having his brain wide open for Phil was worse.

Per the request of his parent’s, they had the hospital pastor come into his room and say a prayer for him right before he was wheeled away for surgery. Dan had cried hysterically to his mother before he left, telling her he was scared of it. She tried her best to help him out of the fear but when she was fearful herself, it was hard. He had Phil’s reassurance and guidance to help him through this but he was still terrified out of his mind.

Right before Phil was set to enter the operating room, the anesthesiologist come in with a syringe and went to inject the liquid into Dan. “What is that?” he slurred.

“Dr. Lester has requested you be fully sedated for the procedure after all. He is saying that the risks are too high to leave you in a mild sedative.”

Dan felt himself start to panic. He had been told this entire time that Phil would talk with him through the procedure and now he was going to be knocked out. What about if he got knocked out and then never woke back up? He’d be put to sleep quite literally.

He was terrified now. His body shaking even though it was paralyzed and now he was on the verge of tears. “Take two deep breaths, Dan.”

Dan struggled to take in the one when he felt the world around him begin to spin. Just as his vision was blacking out, he watched Phil put his gloves on as he walked into the operating room.

One Week Later

“How are you feeling, Dan?”

Dan sat up straighter in his hospital bed, his head still slightly sore but his body feeling much more recuperate. He eyed Phil up and down as he stepped inside in his typical hospital attire.

“Really good!” Dan finally answered.

“That’s great!” Phil answered, moving forward and sitting down next to Dan at his bedside.

Dan’s surgery had taken nearly six hours. Phil worked until he found every last thing wrong and he fixed every single one. His surgery was a pure success and Phil had never been so proud of the fact that he completed such a dangerous surgery.

It was after the surgery that really showed Phil’s generosity to Dan. Phil was supposed to fly back a few days prior but had decided to stay until Dan was fully recovered. He predicted that within six weeks, Dan’s healing would be nearly complete but six months would be when he saw full change back into normality.

At one week later, Dan was beginning to see the signs that normality was on the horizon. Just one day after the surgery, the nurses had him up and walking around to make sure he hadn’t suffered any onset nerve damage. Phil didn’t think Dan would but he still watched from the sidelines as Dan walked slowly up and down the hallways.

By the second day, Dan was feeling really good. The nurses removed his bandages for the first time and he was able to see the intricate stitch work of Phil that went halfway around his head. He felt a little destress over seeing his hair being gone but Phil had reassured him that he looked fine without.

Phil was Dan’s biggest supporter at that point. Besides his parents, Phil was always there for each small milestone that Dan went through. Everything that Dan did, they did together. Even though Phil was Dan’s doctor, Dan felt like he had a friendship with Phil that was building quite fast.

It was the beginning of Dan’s recovery process. Phil wanted to start him fast so he would learn his skills and memory back fast. Phil talked about sending Dan to a specialist to help but Dan insisted that Phil was fine to help him. So Phil helped him slowly, but he was grateful for every little bit.

They began with basic information., like Dan’s family. So Phil asked Dan questions about his family, like what his mother's name was and his father’s name and if he had any brothers or sisters. The entire time, Dan felt humiliated, because he knew his family. He didn’t see how this was helping him if he already remembered all of this. Dan felt like laughing at Phil, because that for this was a joke for Phil to get his humor up. It turned out not be.

The second test Phil conducted involved an advised trip to the centre of London, where Dan was told to recite the directions to a store. Dan did so easily, even showing Phil little quirks on the streets to prove that he did remember. Pleasantly surprised, Phil decided to test three other locations, and Dan remembered these just as easy. Phil was rather proud. In fact, he was almost sure that they wouldn’t need any more tests. To be sure, he did another one just in case.

The third and final test came in the form of puzzles. Phil hid a single cheerio underneath a cup, and then told Dan to point out which cup the cheerio was under, and Dan failed every time. Phil was dumbfounded as to why Dan wasn’t getting this riddle. So he tried it again. This time, he made Dan follow his line of vision so he could see where the cheerio was going, and that helped Dan a lot. But that still didn’t make Phil happy with the results. He pushed Dan for the rest of the day, trying to get him to help and to learn.

That night, Dan felt something inside of his head. Something that signalled something was wrong. He was already stressed from not doing good on the test earlier that day, so maybe that had something to do with it? Phil was writing something else down in his notes, ready to leave when Dan stopped him. “Don’t leave!” Dan pleaded, “My head doesn’t feel good.”

“What’s going on?” Phil asked, extremely concerned.

“I...I feel like I could have another seizure and I’m scared.”

Phil stood up from where he was sat and walked over to Dan’s bed, sitting down next to him, “You need to relax for one.”

“I can’t,” Dan cried, “I’m stressed!”

“Can I?” Phil asked, and Dan was confused until Phil lifted the blankets off from Dan’s legs and slid underneath, getting close to him, “Scoot into me and just relax.”

Hesitant, but eager to stop the bad feeling, Dan did so. He moved closer and cuddled into him, letting Phil massage his back to soothe him. Soon, Dan had fallen asleep; the bad feeling gone.

In the morning, before Dan was awake, Phil checked him over, running a quick check up on his brain, noticing the activity was normal. He smiled in content, before leaving for his other plan for the morning. He went to the hospital store and picked up a box of chocolate and a bouquet of flowers. When he got back up to the room, Dan was just waking, and surprised to see Phil standing there with his gifts.

“Why did you get me these?” Dan asked.

“Because you had a rough night last night and I want you to feel better.”

And Dan knew in that moment that something new and exciting was brewing between him and Phil.

Dan was filled with nervous energy the day he was released from the hospital. His stitches were nearly healed and dissolved and his hair was growing back the way it should be. He still wore a cap over his head though to cover the lack of hair.

Phil had left with him. Dan was shocked at the fact Phil had cancelled his flight again to stay with Dan for a few more weeks. Dan was ever so grateful for the friendship that Phil has given him: all of the nights Phil had stayed in the hospital beside him, the days Phil had got him food because the hospital food was terrible, and the one special night where Dan felt like he was going into a seizure but Phil held him in his bed to calm him down. All of these led up to the present where Phil was now holding his hand as Dan shakily climbed out of the taxi at his apartment.

Dan couldn’t remember anything about his apartment. If he thought hard enough, which he tried not to do because he was scared of something happening, he could remember little details: like how his bed was against a white wall and how he had a white piano in the corner. All of that was merely just an image to Dan and he didn’t even know if it was something his brain was making up.

“You okay?” Phil asked in a soft voice as Dan stood on both feet, his knees shaking slightly.

“Just a little nervous is’all,” Dan replied making a few steps on the uneven pavement underneath.

The truth was that Dan wasn’t scared of walking or moving, he was just scared of falling. He was terrified of hitting his head on anything and even though Phil has sworn up and down that he’ll be okay, Dan was still nervous.

Phil took a hold of his hand and led him to the stairs of his apartment building. Dan slowly and carefully took the steps one step at a time as he held onto the railing with white knuckles. Looking up in front of him, Dan didn’t recognize the door, but yet he had this familiar feeling in the core of his stomach that told him this was his apartment.

Phil handed Dan the keys that Dan had given him, too scared that he would lose them if he held them himself. With shaking hands, he pressed the key into the doorknob, and twisted, allowing the door to spring open. Immediately, the scent of home flooded his sense and Dan smiled, feeling grateful to not smell disinfectant anymore. Walking through the doorway, the first thing he notices is that there is a TV on in the distance. The slightly static and grainy sound made its way to his ear.

He suddenly tenses.

Who was in his apartment?

He reached behind him and gripped Phil’s hand, walking slowly, “Someone's in here,” Dan mumbled.

Phil looked at him, “Are you sure?”

Dan nodded, “The TV is on. I can hear it.”

Phil took the lead, walking towards the now loud sound that was resonating through the tiny apartment. As they near closer, a pair of legs come into view and Dan’s heart kick starts. He leans closer to Phil, confused and upset about who could have broken into his apartment, especially when he’s been in the hospital?

“Who...who are you?” Dan asked, his voice shaky and unsure, lacking confidence.

The figure suddenly stood up and rushed over to him. Dan cowered, turning into Phil and hiding. The man was large, with broad shoulders and blonde hair. He scared Dan…Dan didn’t even know who he was or why he was here.

“Dan?” The voice boomed, deep and emotion filled, “Baby, is that really you?”

Dan turned his head, feeling his bandages catch a little on Phil’s shirt, but he ignored it and stared at the man, getting a good look at him, “Who are you and why are you calling me baby?”

The man’s eyes widened, a now deep brown that was sucking Dan in, “Dan? Do you not remember me?”

Dan was confused, horribly and terribly confused. He shook his head.

“Dan, I’m Damien...your boyfriend,” Dan felt his heart drop into his stomach, “We had a fight one night and...and you left and then I never heard anything from you. I...I called everyone and everywhere for you and no one knew! I was so scared, baby!”

Something about the man, Damien’s, words bit at Dan in an uncomfortable way. He didn’t like his tone, and he didn’t like what he was saying. Something was resonating deep inside of him, telling him something was terribly wrong.

“From what I know,” Phil suddenly chipped in, long forgotten in the reunion of Damien and Dan, “You broke up with Dan that night.”

That thought clicked in Dan’s head. That sounded about right.

“So why are you still in his apartment?” Phil asked, “And further, why didn’t you try harder to locate your so-called boyfriend as he was lying dying in the hospital?”

Dan swallowed hard, a sudden headache beginning in the back of his head near his neck. He said a silent ‘ow’ and moved his hand to touch the sore spot.

“Dan...come on now, you remember me?” Damien spewed out, “We loved each other. We...we had everything and we…”

“Damien,” Dan finally got out. “I don’t remember you,” he stressed, “And I don’t remember anything that you are saying. But the part that is striking inside of my head is that everything you are saying is a lie. I would really like you gone, now, okay?”

“You can’t kick me out of our apartment, Dan!” Damien cried, “I help pay for this!”

Dan shook his head, “You don’t anymore and I want you go. If you’re not gone, I’m going to call the police.”

Damien’s body tensed, and he backed up away from Dan was shaking and holding tightly onto Phil’s arm for leverage. He didn’t understand where the sudden confidence boost came from but he was glad it was there. He felt a sort of relief over the fact that he stood up to Damien. Maybe that’s what his old self wanted to do all along too.

Damien walked away, stomping over to the living room where he looked reluctant to do anything. But then he was gone, and the sound of various thrown items hitting the floor was heard throughout the apartment.

And Dan felt incredibly okay with this...it was exactly what he needed.

“You’ve had a rough day so what about watching a movie?”

Dan looked up from their dinner that Phil had ordered from a local restaurant just down the road. He was happy to eat something else besides mediocre hospital food. This Pad Thai was much more exciting to eat than grilled chicken that was way overcooked and hard.

“Yeah, that sounds okay with me,” Dan said with a smirk.

Phil was already done eating, and although Dan had a long ways to go, Phil stood up and headed into Dan’s living room and turned on the TV. Dan watched from the corner of his eye to see Phil open Netflix and surf through the movies until he finally found a new TV that Netflix just released, “I know you said that you wanted to watch a movie but what about this show? It’s called Stranger Things and it seems really interesting!”

Dan smiled wider, an unspoken agreement that he was okay to watch the show instead. He finished his food in slow bites before moving into the living room.

Sitting on the couch, there was evident space between him and Phil. He knew that he and Phil had gotten a lot closer than they intended to. For one, it wasn’t a normal occurrence for a doctor to go home with a patient. But Phil had insisted.

He suddenly felt brave. Moving closer to Phil, he scooted until their thighs touched and Dan leaned into him. He carefully rested his head on Phil’s chest, letting himself relax. It was such a small intimate gesture, but one that meant so much to them both at the same time.

They show became forgotten as Dan sat back up, staring Phil in the eyes before leaning in. He didn’t mean to, but he was. And now Phil was leaning in as well. And then their lips were touching, so soft and feather-like against each other.

And then it was all over. The kiss just remained that soft gentle kiss. And Dan smiled. He smiled brightly and Phil smiled back, reaching up and smoothing his thumb over Dan’s cheek, “Spend the night?” Dan asked.

“Okay.”

The day came way before either one wanted it to come. The day of Phil’s flight back to America where he would need to go back to work and see his patients that have been waiting for him for these long months.

But Dan didn’t want him to go. He never wanted him to leave.

They were stood in Dan’s door way, Phil’s hand intertwined in his as they faced each other, “Let’s go get coffee,” Phil said, “Spend one last good time together before I leave.”

The words were bitter and they hurt Dan as he listened. His bandages were gone and his incision on his head was just a scar now, his hair was growing around it and looking nice. But he was scared of never looking the same as he once was.

“I...don’t want you to leave.” Dan said, the words catching in his throat.

“I know,” Phil said sadly, “I don’t want to either. So that’s why we should make the most of our last day together.”

Dan joined him, and they headed to the coffee shop, both of them ignoring the somber feeling in the air around them.

Over the course of the past few weeks, they had developed something. Little kisses here and there and cuddling was in their everyday routine. Phil even stayed majority of his time with Dan in his apartment. But they never said to each other what they were. But it was evident both wanted more.

They sat in silence for a while at the coffee shop before Dan finally spoke, “At least this will give me an excuse to finally visit America.”

A sad look washed over Phil’s face, “Dan…”

“And you can show me around!” Dan spoke up, his voice wavering as he held back tears, “I’ve always wanted to see New York City and you can show me, right?”

Dan broke and began to cry, silent tears ran down his cheeks as he picked up a napkin and furiously wiped them away. Phil began to speak to him, but he didn’t listen as he looked around at the paintings on the walls. He focused on everything but Phil in front of him. He just wanted the memory of Phil and him being happy to replace the one of Phil leaving.

Phil reached across the table and took Dan’s hands in his, pulling him away from his face, the napkin falling on the table, “Dan, look at me.”

Dan refused to look so Phil repeated his words.

Then Dan finally looked.

“I know you’re having a tough time with this and I am too, but just know that everything is gonna be okay,” Phil said softly, “And you’re right, you can come and visit me and we can go visit all of these wonderful places.”

Dan nodded and smiled, tears still softly rolling down his skin, “If you promise?”

“If you don’t forget,” Phil said with a smile. Dan chuckled, they joked occasionally about Dan’s condition, but it was always in good taste and spirits.

The rest of the coffee date went by faster than they would have liked. But it soon came time for Phil to get his things from his hotel room and make sure he had everything packed. Dan offered to come with him but Phil told him to rest.

So Dan reluctantly went back to his apartment, but not without kissing Phil one last time before departing.

Dan was still laying on his bed when his phone chimed. Picking up, he noticed he had a text message from Phil, letting him know he made it to the airport okay. Dan let a few tears fall down his cheeks because deep in his heart, he hoped Phil would knock on his apartment door and tell him he changed his mind, and that he was going to stay with him.

But that knock never came.

He remained in his bed, depression setting in because he wanted so dearly to be with Phil in his apartment. He was nearly ready to fall asleep when a thought rang in his head…he could get to the airport and see Phil one more time before he left!

Jumping up, but not too quickly, he rushed around his room and gathered his belongings, picking his phone back up, he scrolled through his numbers, hoping his old self had a Taxi company in his contacts. He found the contact and called them, telling them he needed an urgent Taxi to the airport. The company told him all the Taxi’s were out already on calls.

Defeated, his next resort was checking out the hours of the tube station nearest to him and what trains were still running to the airport. But he was unpleasantly surprised to see none of them were running right now. He didn’t know what to do. There was nothing he could do. His options were pretty limited here.

He Googled taxi places around him to try and call but nothing came up besides a rental car company down the street. But he wasn’t going to rent a car. He didn’t want to ever drive again! Maybe he wouldn’t have a choice. Driving the car would be his only option.

Closing his eyes, he hit the number on the screen and let it ring. Quickly, someone answered and he told them his situation. They gave him the location of their office and told him they would let him rent a car for 35 pounds for the night. So he left his apartment shaking on wobbly legs as he walked down the street, and took a right, seeing the place just down from him.

He was given a small four-door car to drive, the keys in his hand. He was scared beyond belief but he needed to get to the airport. As it stood right now, he probably wouldn’t even make it before Phil was through security and then he wouldn’t see him.

Dan started the car, his breathing quickening as he struggled to grasp the wheel without feeling like his entire control was slipping like that night in the rain. He slowly pushed his foot on the brake and let out a long breath as he shifted the car into drive, and then he drove.

He actually drove…

His eyes followed the roads, this time they weren’t wet. They were just normal roads. They weren’t standing in his way. They were a gateway between him and the love of his life. And soon, the signs for the airport came into view and he couldn’t believe. He couldn’t believe that he was actually here. He had drove successfully.

The airport was busy tonight, like always. But Dan was glad that he got there when he did, quickly parking before running inside. He didn’t even take note of where he was. He just ran. He ran, not even worried about the jarring of his head as he did so. He had no idea where he was going. He didn’t know what airline Phil was even flying. But his instinct told him where to go. So he followed them, dodging people in the process.

And he soon ended up near the the American Airlines gate. Looking around, he tried his best to see if he could spot Phil, but he knew in his heart it was going to be too late. But much to his surprise…he saw a tall dark haired man, walking in the queue as he neared security, already striping off a black peacoat.

Dan ran over to the line, outside of the velvet rope, “Phil!” He exclaimed.

The man turned and he saw for sure that it was Phil, and his blue eyes bore into his soul. Phil jumped out of the line, hoping over the rope before he swung his arms around Dan and holding him close, “Don’t leave me,” Dan cried, “I can’t be without you, Phil. You need to stay in England with me.”

Phil kissed the side of his head, “Dan, I need to go back, I have patients waiting for me.”

“Then take me with you,” Dan cried, pulling back and looking at Phil, “Let me go back to America with you! We’ll go together!”

“That’s crazy,” Phil said, leaning in a kissing Dan’s forehead delicately, “Your family is here. You deserve to be here.”

“But I want to be with you,” Dan pleaded, “You saved my life. You gave me this new outlook on my life that I almost never had. I owe you my life, Phil.”

“That’s not a reason to pick up everything and leave,” Phil said, reaching up and rubbing Dan’s tear stained cheeks.

“Phil,” Dan paused and hesitated, “I love you. I love you a lot and I don’t want to live knowing you’re not here. Please, let me go with you or stay with me.”

Phil looked at Dan with so much love and admiration that Dan melted, “I love you too Dan, I figured it out the first day I saw you that you were special.”

“Then stay,” Dan whispered, “Or let me go with you.”

Phil nodded and leaned in, kissing Dan soundly in a breathless kiss before pulling back and looking at him, “I’ll stay, Dan, I’ll stay with you.” Phil was crying now. “God, I’m so stupid. We’re so stupid.”

Dan smirked at him, “Then let’s be stupid together.”

Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck and yanked him close, crying tears of joy. He was so happy to hear Phil was going to stay with him. It’s all he ever wanted and now it’s happened.

They shared that special moment in the airport, a crowd gathered around them before they parted and left, in the car that Dan rented.

And Phil could never be more proud of him in that moment.

The clapping was loud, deafening almost. He saw the cameras around him, filming the scene in front of him as his name was announced and he walked out, looking into the studio audience and waving as he sat down on the white couch across from the host of Britain’s new top talk show host.

After that night at the airport, he and Phil sealed their relationship in breathless kisses and whispers. Phil moved his practice to England where he got his new license to practice while Dan worked on his recovery more and more everyday.

Eventually, Dan did exactly what he told himself he would do…and he wrote a book. He wrote a book that became the best selling work of fiction in the US and the UK and Dan was so astonished. His life was turned into such an anomaly that he had producers begging him for the rights to turn his book into a movie. And now he was on a talk show, sharing his life. In this time, he also had created a blog in which he has gained another massive following, but mostly from those who are looking at him as an inspiration to their own brain injuries and ways to get over it.

They called out Phil next, or Dr. Lester, and Phil walked out, waving at the cheering crowd around them. Dan smiled brightly at him, loving the look of his new husband as his ring glittered in the light. They married about six months prior, in a small intimate ceremony with both of their families. But it was perfect, and Dan wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

The entire time at the talk show, Dan laughed and cried slightly along with everyone else as he talked briefly of his experiences. Phil went into some medical talk about the procedure he used to help Dan. And then they even showed some photos of Dan while he was still in the hospital.

By the end of the show, they asked Dan who he wanted to play him in the movie adaption, and Dan jokingly said “Evan Peters”, even though they looked nothing alike. He just loved him as an actor.

The show ended and he and Phil walked off from the stage and back into their room. They grabbed their bags and belongings before leaving and exiting the giant building. Instantly, Dan was bombarded by fans who had copies of his book and were asking for autographs.

Taking it one person in a time, Dan signed as many books as he could before he felt Phil’s hand on his back, telling him they needed to move on. But before they could, Dan spotted a young boy, about the age of six, looking up at him with giant eyes, his head wrapped in a bandage. He looked up at Dan and handed him his book, and Dan bent down, signed the book and asking for his name. The boy didn’t answer but the mom chimed in, “He’s mute. He has a tumor that is affecting his motor skills and he doesn’t speak. But I read to him your story and it’s given him such a positive look on life, even so young. You’re truly an inspiration.”

Dan felt tears brim his eyes as he reached forward and hugged the trembling boy. This was the reason why Dan did what he did. He now had a purpose for his life, one that he couldn’t see prior to the accident. His life was full of meaning that he couldn’t even comprehend.

And that’s all because of one doctor who decided he wanted to take a chance.

[prettieparker86]

Deliverance Part 3

Pairing: Donald Pierce x Reader

Warning: Sexual Themes

Word Count: 3K

Part 1 & Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, & Part 7

Gif Credit: @onlyasoulthings & @rafikecoyote Thank you for letting me use your gifs. They are stunning. You all should check out their blogs for more awesome stuff.

A/N: You all voted and I am here to deliver. In honor of my 600 followers, here is part 3 of Deliverance. Some of this I had to throw together quick, because I didn’t have the chapter completely done and I really wanted to get this out to you guys. So hopefully it doesn’t suck. Also, I’m always a little nervous with writing scenes of a sexual nature. I usually work on them for months, because I never think they sound right. I didn’t have the time to do that this time, obviously. So hopefully it’s hot and not bleh.

If you like the chapter let me know :) Thanks again everyone for voting and following!

Tag: @valarm0rghvlis @nuvoleincielo @winterghostuniverse figured I should tag the people who voted for this. If I forgot anyone, or anyone wants to be tagged in the future just let me know.

You had driven all day, stopping only when you absolutely needed to, but by the time night took hold everyone needed a break, Danny most of all. 

Your little boy looked lagged from the road. It had been well past his bedtime when Donald finally stopped at a little roadside motel for the night. 

You couldn’t complain though, for such a little guy he’d really been a good sport about the long drive. 

You figured it didn’t hurt he’d spent his life on the run, even though he didn’t know it.

 The room had only one bed, that realization had made you nervous at first, but Donald seemed to sense that and made it clear pretty quick it was for you and Danny. 

You knew he had his reasons for making that choice. You could tell by the methodical way he moved, everything he was doing had a reason. 

You just didn’t know what it was yet, but since he hadn’t taken you south, instead moving west, you were trying to do what he asked of you… Trust him. 

After getting Danny down for the night and watching Donald settle into what looked like a rather stiff lounge chair, you found yourself succumbing to fatigue too.

 Four white walls surround you, cold recycled air leaves goosebumps on your flesh as you lay strapped to an unforgiving metal table. Thin cotton tank top and pants cover your trembling body. 

Bright florescent lighting stings your eyes as it shines down on you, Dr. Rice comes into view, leaning over you. 

His image suddenly blocking the light that now surrounds him. That distant, clinical indifference in his eyes that always sends a shiver down your spine is ever present.

“Now this will only hurt a bit.” He warns you on a detached breath, and by ‘a bit’ he means a lot, but you’d learned his sick twisted conscience needs to believe he wasn’t actually torturing you. Just little sacrifices, you see. All in the same of science.

 You feel someone grab your arm. Maybe Dr. Rice, maybe a nurse, you can’t tell as the light floods your eyes once again and you pull against your restraints. 

You heart pounding, breath bursting out quick as apprehension builds tight in your chest, like the sense of impending doom. 

Struggling against the straps, your hand breaks free as you reach out for the grip on your other arm.

Your sudden freedom makes the walls fall away, the room disappears in a burst of light as your eyes blink hard to find a popcorn ceiling come into view.

 Heart pounding, breath quick, you don’t know where you are and you don’t wait to find out. You can’t see your son and your protective instincts kick into overdrive. 

You don’t think, you react. Gripping the hand on your arm by the wrist, you swing blindly at the body that’s attached to it. 

Face whipping to the side in your assault, you meet two piercing blue eyes as your fist collides with the open palm of a robotic hand.

“Easy baby,” Donald drawls, wrapping your fist in his grip as he gives your arm a quick pat. “Easy…”

 Your breath lets out ragged and quick as your frantic eyes scan around you, trying to gather your bearings. 

Your son is seating at the motel table a few feet away… he looks alarmed but, he’s safe. 

You’re lying in a motel bed. You’re not in the lab. You’re not back at Transigen. Your eyes find their way back to Donald’s penetrating pair as you relax in his grip, and he finally lets your fist go.

“I was tryin’ to wake you… Bad dream?” Donald’s deep gritty voice fills your ears.

Blowing out a slow steady breath you try to calm yourself as your shaky hand wipes the cold sweat off your brow. 

You haven’t had a nightmare of that hell hole in months, but you can’t say your surprised. Finally back with Donald was bound to stir all that old shit up.

 You nod in response, blowing a shuttered breath past your lips. You were so tired from staying up half the night and you always were a sucker to the lull of a vehicle, which didn’t help. 

You become accurately aware of the feel of Donald’s hand suddenly on your cheek from where he’s seated on the edge of the bed, the feel of his thumb gently caressing you.

You see something twitch at the corner of his mouth with your answer, something hard to read surface in his eyes.

“Good to see you still got fight left in you. Don’t lose that.” He says, giving your cheek one more gentle stroke before removing his hand.

 You run a slow hand over your face as the movement catches the eye of your favorite little guy.

“Mommy!” Danny yells as he hopped off the chair and scrambled onto the bed with you. 

Planting a big morning kiss on you. Pulling him into your arms, you give him a big hug wanting him to know your ok. 

You manage to get in another quick kiss, before he scampers back over to chair he was seated in. Donald follows suit moving to the little round table in your motel room, taking a seat across from Danny. 

Still a little on edge from your dream, you watch them silently for a moment. Trying to gather yourself and take the moment in, not wanting to disturb whatever they were up to more than you already did.

 “Which one you want?” Donald’s distinctive gritty drawl fills the room, as easy on the ears as he is on the eyes.

“That one,” You watch your little boy answer, his face lighting up. A smile creeps on your face with the sweet melody of his voice and the way it can always fill your heart.

“You like sprinkles?” Donald continues.

“Uh-huh, I eat them first,” Danny answers with excitement, practically bounding in his seat.

You hear a genuine chuckle leave Donald and fill the room. A sound so rare you’re not sure you’ve ever heard it before.

“Yeah, I always did too when I was your age.”

 Watching quietly as Donald and Danny have a private moment together your heart swells in your chest, despite your best efforts to keep your emotions under wraps. 

Two days ago, you never could have imagined this. Two days ago, you couldn’t imagine Donald meeting Danny and hoped he never would, but seeing them now makes you second guess running away with him to begin with.

 Danny deserved a dad and while he was too young to really understand that now, you’d always known a day would come when he would and you would have to try your best to explain the difficult choices you made for him. 

You had promised long ago that when Danny asked you wouldn’t lie and you wouldn’t make his father out to be a monster. 

You planned to tell him as much of the truth as you could without breaking his heart, while also explaining why you had to leave, why you have to run, and why some things must stay a secret.

 The rational part of you didn’t want to put too much stock into what’s happening, everything between you and Donald was so uncertain. 

Danny still didn’t know he was his dad, but whether he knows it or not, getting to see Danny have a moment with his dad fills you heart to the fullest. 

This was good for him… Good for Donald too.

 “Donnie got donuts,” Danny tells you beaming as he shoves another mouthful of the sugary treat into his face.

“I see,” You smile in return. 

Letting your little boy’s happiness set you at ease. Bringing your legs over the side of the bed, you rise and stretch before you move over to the table to join them.

“Coffee?” Donald offers, handing you a Styrofoam cup as you approach.

“Thanks,” You accept his offer, sending a genuine smile of gratitude his way as you take the cup in hand. 

Things have been going easier than you thought they would with Donald. You didn’t know what to expect after everything that happened between you two, but this was a pleasant surprise.

 Scooping Danny up with one arm, you steal his seat, before placing him on your lap, but to your complete surprise he slides off. 

Wandering over to Donald, Danny moves his arm out of the way before climbing onto his lap instead. 

You watch Donald, watch his throat bob with nerves, watch a touch of fear so rare to see hint in the edges of his gaze. Watch as he lets Danny get comfort and even snatch up his robotic hand without a fight.

“Oooohhh,” Danny gleans as he holds Donald’s robotic hands in his two small ones, running his tiny fingers over the gears, making the fingers curl and stretch.

 “You like Donnie, baby?” You ask your son, resting your elbows on the table as you lean in a little, watching in wonder. This is the first time Danny’s made a bold move toward Donald.

“Yeah, he fun.” Danny answers easily, distracted with his favorite hand. 

A smile pulls wide on your face and swells in your heart. This was a great moment, even if Danny doesn’t know how great.

Glancing up at Donald, you find him staring intently upon your son, before his eyes drifts over to you, a grin spreading across his face as your eyes meet, gold tooth shining. 

And not the charismatic smirk he loves to flash the girls, or the taunting grin he uses to play games. 

No, this was something deep and genuine. Something from a place in Donald so rarely seen. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Coming out of the shower you give your tank top a little tug making sure it hangs over the top of your shorts as you work a towel through your wet hair. 

After a second day on the road almost non-stop, you were relieved when Donald said you were almost there. 

Though you still hadn’t gotten out of him where there was exactly.

Your eyes scan the motel room, spotting Donald seated in one of the chairs next to the table. His elbows rested on his knees, hunched forward as his gaze holds transfixed upon your son sound asleep on the bed, keeping watching… until he spots you. 

Looking up, Donald gives you a quick nod as you move to the empty chair across from him at the small table. 

Tucking your legs up on the cushion, you continue to squeeze your locks in the towel, working out the excess water as you watch him. 

The look in his eyes is so intense. You remember that look, you know it means he’s thinking about something.

 “What’s got you thinking too hard?” You ask casually, breaking him from his trance as Donald lets out a long huff and leans back in the chair. 

He pitches the bridge of his nose to relieve some tension, silent for a long moment before he finally looks your way from the across the little table.

“You were right not ta tell me about ‘im. Right ta keep ‘im from me. I’da fucked that up.” He admits on heavy breath, his eyes falling back on your son.

Not expecting that answer, your taken by surprise momentarily, your heart instantly feels heavy with his words, but not for you, for him.

“Donnie-“ You start, but he silences you with a raised finger.

 “I’m not a good man. Hell, first time my kid saw me I was hurtin’ his mama.” He drawls out on a heavy contemplative breath, running a frustrated hand along the hair at the back of his head. 

“But I don’t know how to be anythin’ else. You were right to keep ‘im from that.”

Your heart pounds with his confession as you stare at him almost in disbelief over what he’s saying, but you can’t sit there while he rips himself apart. 

You never could. He was usually drunk before he started spitting his inner demons, but it’s been a long couple of days and a lot to take in, you know he’s exhausted, running on fumes.

Tossing the damp towel onto the table, you rise to your feet, toes curling against the tighten woven carpet as you move to him. 

Standing before him, Donnie won’t meet your eyes until you grab his scruffy cheeks and gently force him.

 “Some of the things you do are fucked up, Donnie. We both know I’d be lying if I said otherwise. Your work…” You shake your head at the mere thought of everything you know he’s done for Transigen and everything you know he’ll never tell you.

“But that’s not all that you are. When I was held there you were the only thing that kept me going. The only reason I kept fighting.” You voice grows thick with emotion as the memories find you.

He starts to shake his head to disagree, but you pull his face right back to you. 

“And you’re keeping us safe now like a good father would. Our little boy is so smart and kind, and I see so much of you in him. So I can’t have you ripping yourself apart, ok?”

 You stare into his piercing blue eyes imploring him to hear you as you hold his face, stoking his cheek with your thumb. 

Only man you ever loved, and maybe still do. 

You know without a shadow of a doubt he’s not the monster he thinks he is. It’s more complicated than that, more grey. 

You couldn’t begin to justify the things he’s done, couldn’t begin to understand why he does them, but you know that’s not all there is to him either.  

You’ve seen his heart, and despite everything, it’s a pretty damn good one.

 The way Donald doesn’t look away tells you he’s listening and you find yourself feeling truly connected to him for the first time since you ran. 

Trusting that instinct, you move in closer, resting your forehead to his.

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me and you gave him to me, Donnie… You gave him to me, so without you I’d have nothing.” Your whispered breath vibrates against his lips.

 You feel close to him for the first time in so long, but you soon realize that intimacy was like a spark on a tinderbox. 

That truth slams into you as you feel Donald’s hands swiftly grab your face, pulling you into a searing kiss that leaves you stunned and breathless. 

His hands dive into your damp hair, forcing your mouth roughly against his. Not that your fighting him, it’s been so long since you’ve been on the receiving end of Donnie’s passion your kiss is as ravenous as his, your body begging for his attention. 

Lost in his kiss, your hands tangle around the back of his neck, scratching at his scalp as you pull him closer.

 Your breath shutters against Donnie’s lips as you feel his hands grip your waist tight, pulling you toward him in the chair. 

You clutch him tighter to keep steady as his hands grip you are under your thighs, yanking you onto his lap as if you were weightless. 

You can’t catch your breath as your mouths clash together in a violent desperate kiss.

Years of bent up anger and need boiling over in this moment of weakness. A weakness created by the love you both so foolishly let flourish down in that pit of hell he works for.

 Your hands rake wildly through Donnie’s blonde hair as you devour each other as if you can’t get enough. 

Rediscovering the taste of him, a distinct mixture of danger, death, and something you’ve always found absolutely irresistible. 

His human hand grips tightly onto the back of your head holding you right where he wants you, manipulating your body just the way he’s always insisted. 

While his biotic hand squeezes your hip so tightly you know you’ll find marks in the morning, but on a sick twisted level, you love the flashbacks those marks can bring. How they can make your body heat up for days after just thinking about how you got them.

 Straddled across him, Donnie shoves you deeper into his lap as you roll your hips against the bulge beneath you, trying to relieve the pressure building between your legs. 

Your bodies speaking a language only you know. A language you thought you lost, but now see was only dormant, waiting for his flame to bring it back to life.

 As you moan into his mouth and feel him smirk with satisfaction against your kiss, you realize how much missed him. Missed having this with him so fucking bad, but as Donnie starts ripping your shirt up and off your body, you come to your senses, because you aren’t the same girl you were before. 

You have obligations now, people the protect.

Releasing your hold on him, you reach for your shirt, battling him to shove it back down as you break the kiss.

 “Wait, wait, wait-“ You say breathlessly, your forehead pressing hard into his, trying to think clearly even as you melt into his touch.

“Come on baby, I know you want to.” He drawls out all smooth and burning like whiskey going down your throat. 

His hands abandoning your shirt to grip your hips, trying to show you how bad he knows you want this as he thrusts up against you. Kissing you hard, hard like he feels beneath you.

 He nips as your bottom lip as a strangled moan escapes you, but before he can tempt you any further, you reach for his arms. 

Ignoring how good his strong solid biceps feel in your hands, you push off him, wrenching yourself out of his grip. 

You feel unsteady on your feet, heart still pounding, your legs wobbly as you grab the side of the table to steady yourself. 

Your breath is panting as you glance over your shoulder, thankfully spotting your son still asleep. 

You glance back at Donnie to find his gaze had followed yours over to the little boy asleep on the bed before his eyes fall back onto you.

 “Not with Danny in the room. And even then-“ You blurt out, still trying to catch your breath.

As Donnie stares up at you with a dark hunger still blinding in his gaze, his hair all tussled from your assault, his heavy breath filling your ears, you know you need to create more distance, because if he tries to touch you again right now, you’re not sure how strong you’ll be.

Moving over to the dresser several feet away, you lean your butt against it as you run a shaky hand through your hair.

“What are we doing? What are we? We can’t be stupid this time.” You ask the important questions. 

The ones you didn’t dare to ask last time, but there’s way too much at stake now. You can’t take chances that could hurt Danny.

 Running a heavy hand down his face, Donald lets out a long breath as his head tilts back in the chair and his gaze settles on the ceiling. 

“I don’ know.” He answers honestly.

You stand there silently for a few minutes, just watching him and trying to make sense of it all before he finally rises from the chair and turns to you.

“I’m gonna rinse off.” He announces, ending the conversation before it ever really started.

 Rising from the chair, he finds your gaze as he moves by you on the way to the bathroom. 

Stopping inches from your face, he surprises you and cradles your jawline gently in his human hand.

“You’re a good mom. I’m glad it was you.” He says, that piercing look in his eyes that tells you he isn’t just blowing smoke. 

He leans in and place a quick tender kiss on your lips before heading to the bathroom without anything further. Leaving you to mull over what the hell all that means.

 You climb into the bed with your little boy after Donald disappears in the bathroom. You stare up at the ceiling listening to the shower turn on as your mind mulls over the last few minutes. 

Loneliness, that was the simplest answer. That eases your mind and doesn’t complicate everything. Too bad the truth is rarely simple and things between you and Donnie have always been anything but.

You don’t realize how tired you are until you come to, having nodded off without realizing it. The motel room is completely dark. 

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you spot Donald asleep on the same chair he sat in earlier. Awkwardly slumped lower in it, his neck craned back at an angle you know can’t be comfort.

 After everything he’s doing for you and Danny, after the way he opened up to you tonight, you find your heart softening towards him like it had not so long ago. 

Moving before you can second guess yourself, you go to him. Taking his hand, you’re a little startled when he jerks awake. His other hand grabbing your wrist as he shoots upright in the chair.

“It’s me,” You reassure as your eyes meet in the dark. 

“You can’t sleep like this. Come on.” You beckon as you tug on his hand, pulling him to his feet and over to the bed with you.

 Pulling back to the blankets, you climb into the middle of the bed, never letting go of his hand until he lies down with you.

“You sure about this?” Donald questions you, his eyes searching yours in the dark.

Part of you isn’t sure this is the right answer. Part of you is worried this will confuse Danny, but there’s plenty of room and letting him sleep in that uncomfortable chair didn’t feel right either.

You gently touch the scruff on his cheek as you answer. “You’re a part of this family too.” You reply.

Rolling over, you find a comfortable position, facing your baby, your back to Donald before closing your eyes and starting to drift away.

 Your deep within the grips of sleep when something new stirs you, something you haven’t felt in a very long time. Your mind lulls back to the surface, somewhere almost lucid, but not quiet. 

Your memory stirs familiarity as you feel Donald’s arm wrap around your waist, tugging you against him, your bodies fitting like two pieces of a puzzle. 

This feels good in a way that surprises you, but you trust in it and begin slipping back away when Donnie’s voice muffles low against your hair.

“I never stopped lovin’ you. No matter how hard I tried.”

The words pierce into you even though you’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear them. Donnie wasn’t saying them to you as much to himself. 

He’s never said the word before. You’ve never said it either, but there it is. 

And your beginning to see he isn’t the only one who couldn’t let that feeling die. 

[furederiko]

Beware the sting of the Scorpion! This recap-view for Kyuranger's 3rd episode, also marks the end of February...

- Before I start, I need to state one important thing first! It just occured to me after watching episode 2 again... this show also feels like a Super Sentai version of "One Piece"! Not just from the theme of adventure from one place to another (in this case planets, instead of islands), but through its characters as well. Lucky might have had his name derived from Luke Skywalker, but it could also be a simple reference to Luffy. How could I have missed that? Spada the fighting chef is basically Sanji. Witty Hammy might feel similar to... Nami. Balance's personality is a mixture of Usopp's goofball and Brook's dandyness, while Naga Rei is a blend of Robin's silence and Chopper's naivety. Big robot Champ is basically a bull version of Franky. Hot-blooded Garu is... Zoro, and not just because they sound the same (duh?). And many other similarities. I might be overthinking this, but "One Piece" is being produced by TOEI Animation, and is still hugely popular. So it makes sense right? Okay, now that that's out of the way, carry on... - We get to see a glimpse of Champ's backstory in this episode. YAY! And hey, did Champ (who is a robot, unlike Balance, so he claims) just... dream? Wow, this bit easily reminds me of Zane from "The LEGO Ninjago" series. It also helps that Professor Anton (Tsuyoshi Ujiki), his creator even looks similar to Dr. Julien! His whole 'being in Robot Wrestling Championship' also reminds me of "Real Steel". I also just realized that Champ couldn't wear his Rebellion jacket properly due to his body size, hence why he hangs it on his right shoulder. On a side note, are the Kyurangers playing... pool? WOW. That's another ball reference! - Commander Xiao Long Bao debuts! He's obviously a Dragon, a Purple one, and I'm really digging his design. If you think we already have too many goofballs in form of Lucky, Balance, and Naga (basically due to him parroting other's expression), then you might need to bite your tongue. Don't expect a stern figure like Doggie Kruger of "Tokusou Sentai Dekaranger", or a wise compassionate one like Torin of "Zyuden Sentai Kyoryuger", because Commander Xiao is easygoing, carefree, and well... can't seem to take things uhm, seriously. His cheesy/corny pun-tastic gags easily reminds me of Nariya Ookido (Samson Oak) from the new season of "Pocket Monsters"! At least Xiao's hillarious though (seriously, I'm chuckling like crazy with everything he does), and not annoying like Nariya. His voice actor Hiroshi Kamiya (the voice of Trafalgar Law in "One Piece", and Takashi Natsume in "Natsume Yuujinchou") sounds 'different' here. Which is a pleasant surprise, considering it's rather RARE to hear him sounding gruff and un-ikemen-like. At first sight, that is, because his natural voice does become familiarly recognizable after a while. - However, his personality and constant teasing to Raptor isn't the utmost important thing regarding this debut. Why? Two reasons. First, I might be mistaken, but it seems Raptor's the only one who has known him. I mean, even the first three members Hammy, Champ, and Spada looks at him like a stranger. Second, because our Commander shows up by bringing loads of Auxiliaries Kyu Globes... all at once! I count there are 13 of them at the table. WOW!!!! I know there are at least 45 of these collectibles confirmed so far (because... I have the list, duh?), and it could go on towards 48 if the show's following Ptolemy's Constellations instead of the 88 modern ones. But do they have to reveal so many at the same time? What's wrong with obtaining them one by one? At least, I thought the show is going to do that *sigh* - By the way, as suspected, we get an update for the Opening Sequence once more. It contains a 7-members transformation scene now. Although... the way Libra Gold and Ophiucus Silver are standing with a little distance from the others looks rather... awkward. I get that the empty space is meant to be occupied with the remaining two members, but it still looks odd. With what's happening in this episode, looks like we're going to get the full version after 5 episodes. - This week's destination is Planet Needle, a so-called desert planet. And it's about to go even dry soon (in just three hours!), because apparently, the planet is in danger thanks to Jark Matter draining on its Planetium, its vital energy source. This is accomplished through a special spaceship called Moraimarz. Sounds like a plot from Netflix's "Voltron Legendary Defender", right? To be honest, when I heard the phrase 'desert planet', I sort of expected something like... Tatooine, perhaps? Alas that's not the case, because obviously Japan doesn't have the kind of natural open-space setting to pull this off practically. It still acts as the inspiration for the new character's clothing choice though. - Aaah, yes, we have another new character, and it's Stinger (Yousuke Kishi)! Eventhough he has actually showed up on the closing scene last week, parading around that odd-looking pendulum. LOL. I wonder why he debuts alongside Commander Xiao? Could they be... linked somehow? Hmmm. Anyway, true to his namesake, Stinger has crazy... stinger! I've read about this ability before, but I never expected that it would be this cool. It is used as an offensive poison-inducing weapon, and I really love how it's conveniently serving as some kind of whip too. Particularly when it is used to strangle Champ during their duel! - Yes, intriguingly, Stinger is linked with Champ's backstory! This has got to be a red-herring, but for now he's being regarded as the man behind Prof. Anton's death. The twist of the day, is that he's already a Kyuranger, and even has his own Constellation Blaster! #2 The Poison Star Scorpio Orange debuts, but not on the same side. Yep, only episode 3 and we already have an anti-hero on the loose! One that even takes down 5 Kyurangers without breaking a sweat. - This is a wonderful development, because it signifies that Stinger could very well be the first Kyuranger ever, even before Raptor joins the team. Commander Xiao must have known him already too. Hence why he's evading all sense of urgency. In fact, I have an inkling feeling that Stinger is acting as some kind of... spy/undercover agent. A ruse to get him close enough to Eridron. Proof? The poison he had struck to the Kyurangers, wears off on its own, which means, it's never lethal! Not just that, the way he treats the Malistrate Moretsuyo-Indaver strikes me as odd. Sure, he does attack him because he hates to be interfered, but he might have said that as an excuse to fight alongside Leo Red. - Just like Garu, Champ is in this not just to protect the universe, but also for revenge. Which is why they get along nicely. This is where a naive character like Lucky organically comes into play. His pure sense of justice doesn't want Champ to have a grudge against Stinger, because both are Kyurangers. After all, they need ALL NINE to form a complete set, right? It would be wrong if one member is working with Jark Matter. Beside, his easy logic says that a bad guy wouldn't be able to awaken a Kyu Globe, which is a very valid reason, IMHO. I just hope this doesn't mean that Champ's story will be resolved very quickly. - Interestingly, Champ, Stinger, and Lucky are all zodiac-based Kyurangers, right? (Taurus, Scorpio, and Leo). Speaking of zodiac, Gemini Kyu Globe (Futago/Twins) becomes the first Auxiliary Globe used in the show. Obviously, it is used to create a twin/clone, and so we have two Leo Reds now! Raptor herself delivers this item for Lucky to use. Wait, if she's on the ground (and clearly enjoying the fight), who's piloting the Orion? Balance! After all, controlling other machine is his ability. And see? The other members have recovered easily as well. - I can't explain the reason why Scorpio Orange summons his Scorpio Voyager to stop Leo Red, but highly likely it's a fan-service to Super Sentai mecha fans. Yep, while Kyuren-Oh is duking it out with the Moraimarz (the spaceship has a robo form!), we're getting a parallel fight between the orange and black Voyagers as well. Poor Chamaeleon Green gets her Chamaeleon Voyager position-swapped by the more offensive Ophiucus Silver though. That's twice in a row! LOL. As for Dorado Yellow? We get to see his Voyager's finisher instead. "Kyuren-Oh! Meteor Break! Super Galaxy!". - In the end, angsty Stinger is NOT part of the team yet. Worse, he's officially working with Eridron now. Thus his silhoutte becomes Dark instead. Will Lucky be able to win him over as friend? Or will Champ's words be proven, that he's a foe? Friend or Foe, that is the question. Oh and one more thing, the ending dance only adds Xiao Long Bao, with Spada (who's having a blast with the choreo!) and Hammy taking the spotlight. Guess we shouldn't expect Stinger in it until he's officially part of the team, eh?

Overall: I knew it! I've suspected that Stinger would easily steal my attention when I first saw him, and he did. But that's not all. He's vying Balance's place to be my favorite character of the show, giving the mechanical lifeform a run for his money. I really liked Stinger's anti-hero debut, as well as Champ's backstory. Unfortunately, the latter is also the reason why I'm not giving this episode a higher score. Right now I'm worried that the robot wrestler's story would be resolved too quickly. I might be worried for naught though. With that said, the season's world-building continued to impress. The fun new Commander was a great addition, because it's clear that he might be something more than meets the eye. Can't help but wonder what kind of secret he has under his sleeves? Perhaps, a rather heroic one? Hmmm... ;D Next week: The Final (for now, at least) Kyuranger debuts... Clumsy dreamer Raptor-283 steals the spotlight!

Episode 03 Score: 8 out of 10

Visit THIS LINK to view a continuously updated listing of the Kyutama / Kyu Globes. Last Updated: February 26th, 2017 - Version 05. (WARNING: It might contain spoilers for future episodes)

All images are screencaptured from the series, provided by the FanSubber Over-Time. "Uchu Sentai Kyuranger" is produced by TOEI, and airs every Sunday on TV-Asahi. Credits and copyrights belong to their respective owners.