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starburstslyther1n · 11 months ago

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All Wounds Heal

Chapter one

Fred Weasley/Slytherin!Reader

After transferring to Hogwarts in my fourth year and experiencing the Triwizard Tournament, I thought nothing would top that year. When my fifth year rolled around, I quickly realized how right I was, until a certain redheaded Gryffindor began to pay me attention and try his hardest to get to know me.

Word Count: 1,318

Warnings- no voldy au, order of the phoenix based

A/N: here’s the first chapter, I’m going to try to make it as close to the timeline as I can with this being a no voldy story. Hope someone out there enjoys this

My first few weeks of classes dragged on. Umbridge was insufferable but all my other classes were the same at least. Potions was just as easy as always and I found myself quite enjoying the year. Snape seemed to be extra miserable and irritable towards the Gryffindors and Malfoy seemed to be enjoying it a bit too much. Thankfully Astoria and I managed to stay out of his slimy hair and clear of him when he was in his particularly foul moods.

I was currently sat on my bed listening to Pansy rant as she paced our dorms. She had been complaining since classes ended about how she still had not managed to gain the affections of Malfoy. Millicent was laid on her bed flipping through a magazine barely listening and Astoria was at her desk doing her hair for bed. We had all changed into our night clothes once dinner had ended and hadn’t left our room yet. I had planned on working on my transfiguration essay but Pansy insisted someone listen to her pain. I had zoned out when a magazine flew through the air and a loud shriek came from Pansy. Millicent was glaring at the girl in the center of the room as she stood to retrieve her magazine. “It’s been two hours, Pansy. Please, give it a rest. You’re the only person in this school aside from the golden boy himself who is obsessed with that blonde git. We don’t know why he doesn’t like you, perhaps you’re a bit to crazy over him, hm?” She flung herself back into her bed and turned her lamp off as Pansy stood at a loss for words with her before turning and climbing into her own bed and turning her light off.

Astoria looked at me with a sweet smile from across the room before bidding me a goodnight and moving to her own bed. We turned off our lights and climbed under the covers of our beds and our dorm was silent at last. Sleep soon took me and before I knew it, morning had come. When I woke, I stretched and looked around the room to see all the curtains still drawn around everyone’s bed but Millicent’s. I cast a quick tempus and grabbed a sweater before heading down to the common room to find Millicent and Blaise working on homework. As I approached, they stood and Blaise motioned to the common room entrance. “Want to go get breakfast? There’s still about three hours before it’s over and we’re the first few up aside from the older years.” I nodded while yawning and ran back up to my room and tried my best to remain quiet while getting dressed. After I had pulled a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and my shoes on, I slipped back out the door and down the stairs, pulling my hair up as I made my way out the common room with Millicent and Blaise. We made our way out the dungeons and across a few stairwells until we came to the great hall and made our way to our table. We took our places and began eating, sharing our plans for the weekend and discussing homework. Eventually Astoria, Pansy and Draco made their way to the great hall and joined us. We all finished our breakfast and split into groups going our own ways for the day. Astoria and I made our way back down to the common room and gathered our books and things for homework before making our way to the entrance hall. We split ways as I made my way to the library and began searching for a corner.

I had been at a table for maybe twenty minutes when Umbridge’s shrill voice began to ring through the library followed by Madame Pince’s voice arguing back with her. I couldn’t quite make out what they could have possibly been arguing about, but Umbridge seemed to be very set on whatever it was. She left before long but not without a flair for the dramatics, I spilled my ink all over my parchment as the slam of the library door startled me. Thankfully I hadn’t gotten very far into my essay so I vanished the spilled ink and pulled a new jar out before continuing my essay. Hermione soon joined me and we had a very pleasant conversation until she asked if I’d seen Harry.

“Hermione, you’re the only Gryffindor I’ve made friends with. I don’t think he’s exactly keen on getting to know me since Astoria and I hang around Malfoy. I’m pretty sure he avoids me.” She shrugged as she began to chew on her lip.

“He had detention with Umbridge last night. I haven’t seen much of him since. I’m worried.” I set my quill down and nodded, turning to her.

“Over what he said in class? About how the ministry should have taken care of the problem years ago?” She nodded and sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very relieved he’s gone this time, but now more than ever I think, he really seems to be grieving for the life he could have had with his family.” I nodded as I hummed and we began to pack our books away.

“I’m sure Umbridge isn’t helping the matters either, with teaching theory and claiming the world is perfectly safe when just a few months before the school year started a dark wizard was taken down.” She nodded as we made our way out the library, dropping our voices and changing the subject, keeping an eye out for Umbridge. We made our way to the quidditch pitch and found Ron as Hermione began to scan the air for Harry and I pulled a book out of my bag and turned to her.

“Why do we still come out here? We’ve both made it quite clear we don’t care for quidditch yet every week you drag me out to watch practice with you and Ron.” Hermione smiled and glanced at me as Ron was fully absorbed into watching Harry and his bothers run drills in the air.

“I don’t. I just enjoy watching them fly without the stress of those horrible balls trying to kill or maim them. Watching them fly is like a dream. I hated flying class, but watching people fly is another thing.” I nodded and grinned to myself and settled into my book as the Gryffindors began making quite a bit of fuss the more into their practice they got. Half of my book later and their practice had been released. We made our way down to the locker rooms, but Ron’s older brothers came out a few minutes into us waiting and informed us Harry had taken off right after practice. Hermione glanced over at me before turning to Ron who had began speaking.

“You’ve got to be joking, Fred. How did he just leave without us seeing him on our way down.” The twin, Fred, shrugged and looked to the other twin who had begun to speak.

“He’s pretty moody today, mate. Might want to give him some space.” The other twin, George, leaned on Fred as he began to speak when George was finished.

“Something’s got him bound up. I have a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with that detention he mentioned. Umbridge did a right bit of damage on us with that quill. I’m sure he’s being Harry about bringing it up too.” The two began to strut off as Hermione and Ron turned to me and began whispering among themselves. I gathered bits and pieces but they had rushed off to find Harry before I could really figure out what they had been talking about. I sighed and began making my way back to the castle, wondering just how long until lunch would be served.

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malereader-inserts · 4 years ago

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Happiest Year

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Avengers & Male!Reader Summary: Your statement is vague - they just did the best the can to counter it. Word Count: 1,485 Warning: Death

“By the end of the year,” You say, as you and the team overlook the lake, “I’ll be dead.”

“What?” Tony exclaimed as you chuckled.

It was January first, the night of celebrating the new year had truly hit the team hard. So, the majority of them were out by the docks with you, getting fresh air hoping it would wash away the hungover they were experiencing. It was a nice bitter morning, the cold was nipping at your nose.

Clearly, January would be cold.

“I just have a feeling, you know?” You answered, groaning as you wave them off, “Well, my hungover is fading off - I’m going inside.”

It was the last time you mentioned it, but that doesn’t stop the team thinking about it. They don’t know what you meant by that statement, but they did anything to prevent a death. January was the longest ever month, everyone could feel it. But, with the snow in New York - they made the most of it.

They haven’t seen you with so much joy before when playing with snow. It was almost weekly to make the best fort in teams, there were meetings of teams to create the best one before actually making it in the allotted day and time.

When the snow started to melt away and warmer days were arriving, the team had to think of new ways of keeping your life a little bit more exciting. Tony had the great idea of taking you to places you’ve never been before.

First of all, it was a trip around America, taking you to places you would love to visit. Natasha got great pictures of you and the team if Natasha was in the picture she either got one of the boys to take pictures or a stranger.

You went hiking, went to explore the colours of Antelope Canyon. Took a trip to Savannah in Georgia, you got taken to see the sunflowers in Kansas. And you decided to get pulled into a trip to New Orleans. At Minnesota, you got various pictures with the Peanut character statues, Peter was too happy about this trip - he loved every minute of it.

You enjoyed the Smithsonian museum, you’ve been dying to see it - you dragged Steve around because he was equally excited to learn. When you visited each state to do something because Tony owns a jet and it was easy to move quicker.

He takes you to Tokyo and part of Japan. You visited stores of various shows and movies you love, you take part in trying new food. He takes you to one of the Scandinavian countries so you could witness the Northern lights, they were so pretty - but not as pretty as your face as it lights up.

He brings you to different countries to taste their cuisine. Bucky was fond of Italian whilst Sam likes to argue that France had better food, Clint was just happy to be included.

Natasha had started an album of places, one album dedicated to the US - it was full to the brim with pictures of you and the team. You never thought that she was a type of person to be scrapbooking, but she made you do the writing.

You don’t question her.

There’s another album for Asian and Europe countries you have visited, with the European scrapbook, everyone had a different coloured pen to add their contribution of notes.

You travel to South America, get to live the carnival life in Brazil. Somehow in between travelling, you get to enjoy the 4th of July back home in New York. You enjoyed immersing yourself in different culture during the summer until you were worn out of travelling by the end of August.

You don’t know how you managed to keep travelling whilst some of the team were being sent off to deal with enemies. Not once, Nick had sent you away to a mission - the team asked, you never gave them a solid answer.

September was the start of autumn, it was the excuse of you guys taking a break from travelling. You helped Natasha finish the books, even helping her to make them look pretty by making some borders on some of the pictures.

October rolls in, it’s spooky season as Peter proclaims. You visit corn mazes, pumpkin picking. You make jack o lanterns, watch horror films. You had a blast in the Halloween party, you got to dress up once again.

By November, the team started to notice something wasn’t right. You had no energy to stand up, you were constantly sitting down. You were always cold, they thought because the temperatures had started to drop drastically, but even with the heating on in the Avenger base, you were bundled up in a blanket and your thickest hoodie.

“Still cold?” Bruce asked you, handing you a hot chocolate - noticing your shaky hands.

“Unbelievably,” You responded, there were tints of blue upon your lips.

You could barely keep food down in you, sometimes you were too tired to even make yourself food and hold a fork up to your lips. You were sick and it doesn’t seem like you were able to recover.

That was until by the end of November, you were hospitalised. For a week, the team was in the dark about the situation. There was a lot of talks between Nick and the doctor, between you and Nick, between you and the doctor.

“It seems like they’ll have to know,” You spoke softly, rough at the edges as if you haven’t been drinking water.

“Yeah, don’t suppose you want to tell them?” Nick asked, hoping it would bring out a smile to you.

“I wouldn’t be able to look of hurt in their eyes.”

Nick breaks them the news.

You’re dying, you have known this fact since the start of the year. Did you mean to keep that information from them? No, it never came up. You knew there was no cure, and you hated that. You’re a superhero, people look at you expecting you’re untouchable.

Nick never wanted to send you out for a mission, he wanted you last year to be one to remember.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Steve asked, looking at you in the hospital bed.

“You never asked.”

“Is-” Bruce lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, “Is there a cure at all?”

“If there was I wouldn’t have told you I would be dead by the end of the year,” You answered, you let out a cough.

“Why?” Tony whispered, brushing your hair, “Why did you hide it from me? From us?”

“It was easier.”

The team looked at you, you look fragile, there was a clear loss of weight and you were too weak to even pick up stuff. You were a concerning paler shade of your skin tone. Sweat dripping from your forehead and you were shaking. Every so often you would cough so violently, a wheeze would escape your mouth - god it hurt you so much, the team could tell that.

“A superhero is not immune to diseases with no cure,” You chuckled to yourself, no one joins you - they look at you with pain in their eyes. “I just want to thank you though.”

“For what?” Steve whispers, if he speaks any louder - he fears his voice will break.

“Thank you for the happiest year of my life.”

You died in your sleep at the age of twenty six. They didn’t expect it because despite two weeks composed of bad days, that one day, you were actually better.

But it didn’t matter. Because the team was there with him. Steve held your hand as you slept, held you even when the doctors came and told them you were no more. The team didn’t cry. They didn’t beg them to try again. Because that night when you were supposed to be unconscious, Steve felt you squeeze his hand twice.

It was your own way of saying Thank You.

Thanking them that they stayed by your side to the end.

The funeral was simple, after all, you were a simple man. It was just the team and people who truly knew you. They couldn’t hold back the tears, the funeral was quiet sobs, they couldn’t bare to look at the smiling picture that was present in front of them.

Christmas wasn’t the same without you, there was an empty part of the team. the new year came around, they drank so much that they regret it. They found themselves back at the dock, fresh air will help their hangover.

It’s been a year since you announced that you will be dying at the end of the year.

At least, in their mind, they gave you the happiest year - that’s all it matters.

You were happy and content with the life you have had.

They were happy to be a part of your life.

#Avengers #avengers imagine #avenger imagines #angst #steve rogers x male!reader #tony stark x male!reader #bruce banner x male!reader #natasha romanoff x male!reader #x male reader #platonic

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kimnjss · 4 years ago

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looks different | myg

⤑ series: be my baby

⤑ pairing: rapper!yoongi x mom!reader

⤑ genre: angst, not even kidding...

⤑ rating: PG13.

⤑ word count: 4.2K

⤑ warnings: there aren’t any. except a very sad min yoongi :( yeah, if you got tissues - bring ‘em.

⤑ A/N: okay so first of all?? guys!! thank you sooo much, for the quick support i’ve been getting for this fic! i mean we’re only five chapters in nd ., ugh!! just thank you sooo much i love you guyss!! also~ don’t get mad at yoongi, he’s just out here trying his best :(

APRIL 13TH, 2020 | 15:31

It's automatic the way his heart stutters at the sight of you walking through the glass doors of the studio lobby. Every last moment he's rushed down to this very lobby to wait for you, the biggest of smiles taking over his features when you'd finally arrive. More often than not with something healthy for him to eat, paired with the nagging of how he should stop ordering out even if he was working late.

His heart would stutter than too.

Different this time, though. Feeling more relieved than anything. There's no telling the dark places his mind has gone in the years that you've been gone – wondering what could've happened to you. And now you're here – safe. Yoongi loved you, of course, he'd feel relieved knowing that you were fine.

Fine, but different. He can't help but notice all the things about you that just... looks different. Your hair, the long dark waves that he loved to bury his hands in now cut short falling just below your chin. Made you look much older than your new twenty-four. Birthday had just passed, he remembered.

Your hips much, much wider. He can't help but pick up on that huge detail as they sway with each step you take closer to him. Very slow steps, for the record. Nervous steps. The same way you'd approach him if you were wielding bad news. That didn't change. Neither did the tentative way you nibbled at your lower lip, fingers pushing your hair behind your ear as you locked eyes with him.

The nerve to smile. Actually push the corners of your lips up and smile at him, but he's reacting the way he always has. Mouth dropping in slight awe because you were so pretty when you smiled. Even if it was riddled with anxiety.

Yoongi stands just as you're stopping in front of him, eyes traveling over his frame in wonder. He had changed in the past three years too. The hair that he kept bleached now it's natural dark color, his once lanky skinny frame holding more muscle. He's been eating well lately and you can tell in the fullness of his face.

Never the type of guy to wear his wealth, but you can't help but notice the diamond-studded single chain that hangs from his neck. A dazzling 'A' pendant hanging from it. Just a plain black tee and sweats, probably spent the day mixing and didn't bother to change from his night clothes.

That was so like him. And you had no idea how much you missed him until now. Seeing him, so close that you could reach out and touch him. But you don't, given the circumstance. No matter how much you want to – it'd be inappropriate. Could basically feel how angry he was, keeping your distance was best.

Realizing, the two of you had been standing there for quite some time – speaking no words, you decide to be the one to break the ice. It was your fault you were even in this situation, to begin with, right?

“Yoongi-,” You start, ready to explain yourself. Right then and there, lay it out flat for him. Everything. Why you left. The baby. What has happened in the past three years. But you're not given the chance.

His dark eyes widen at the sound of your voice as if he hadn't expected to actually hear you speak, as if you weren't real. And he's reacting all at once, arms reaching out to circle around your waist and pulling you into his chest. The force of his pull surprises you, but not enough to keep you from closing him in.

He smells the same. Has definitely swapped his cologne in the time passed, but that doesn't change a thing. He still smells like him. And you missed him. The sob that breaks through his chest, vibrates your body. With his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, arms clutching you close to his chest – he cries.

Not able to properly handle the emotions overwhelming his body, so he can't do anything but cry. Happy tears that you're safe, that none of the terrible things he thought had happened. Sad tears that you felt the need to leave him without a trace, leaving him to wonder what he could've done to make you feel so alone. Angry tears for all the shit you put him through by leaving, because he hadn't done anything wrong – it took him a while to realize that one.

All of those tears soaked the collar of your shirt, shaking his back. Fists clenching the fabric of his shirt, you forced yourself to keep your composure. To not break down the way you wanted because right now he needed you to be strong for him. You had no right to cry when this was your fault.

“I'm so sorry,” The words come out hushed at first before you're repeating louder. And then again. Until they're falling from your lips over and over again, you're worried they might lose their meaning.

But you don't stop, because ever since you made the decision to leave him – apologizing was the only thing you wanted to do. Woke up every morning with a new way to tell him, to express to him, how sorry you were. How shitty you felt by doing this to him. And now that you had the chance, all your practice speeches were gone out the window.

All you could muster was a simple 'I'm sorry' and hope that it held as much weight as it did in your heart.

The two of you stay standing there for moments to pass, your hand soothingly rubbing his back as he let out the frustrations he had been feeling for the past years onto your shoulder.

He's pulling back only after he's calmed down, eyes glossed and cheeks flushed as he searches your features. A soft, cool hand finding the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Are you sure you're okay?” The slight crack in his voice from his crying nearly shatters your heart.

“I'm okay. I'm so sorry, Yoongi...” Again, you try to find the words, but you're at a loss. Don't know what to say, no matter how many times you’ve imagined this exact moment. Where do you start? How do you get him to see that this, him like this, was not what you wanted when you left?

“I can't believe it's really you.” Both hands sliding down the sides of your arms until he's able to reach for your hands, loosely holding them in his as he has done a thousand times before. “We have a son?”

The words that leave his lips are hushed as if he's afraid to say them out loud. Afraid to let you hear him. But you do. Loud and clear. And your eyes are widening at his words. He knew? How could he...

“Your Instagram. The pictures, that little boy. He's my son?” His ability to read your mind hasn't faltered. You can see the sadness in his eyes, clearly. And you know exactly why it's there and it's your fault. All because you were too much of a coward.

The weight starts in your chest, quickly rushing up your throat until a sob is breaking through. Eyes watering as fresh tears slide down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Yoongi. I-I should've... I didn't think-” You try to speak through your cries, but he stops your struggle; reaching to pull you into his chest again.

Gentle fingers stroke the back of your head, twisting in your short strands of hair. “Shh, it's okay. Relax, it's alright.” Except it wasn't. He knew that and you did too. Because of your stupidity, he lost the first three years of his son's life, time that he would never get back and it was all your fault.

He should be angry at you. Screaming at you. Cursing you ten times over. Not holding you and stroking your hair and telling you that it'll be okay. This was wrong. You didn't deserve his kindness, you didn't deserve him.

Lifting your hands to find his chest, you're gently pushing yourself back to create some distance between the two of you. “I'm sorry, Yoongi. I should've trusted you.” No idea that your trust in him and wavered, but Yoongi doesn't dwell on the small detail. He had a son now. He was a father. There were bigger things to focus on.

“Hey, listen. Whatever happened, happened. We can't change it, alright? Why don't we go somewhere? Get something to eat so we can talk properly?” You're nodding at the request despite the fact that you're not all that hungry. Can't eat with the guilt filling your stomach.

Yet, the last thing you want to do is stay in this studio. Haunted by the memories that the two of you made in this very lobby, every square inch of this place was covered with the two of you – and you ruined that.

Never realized how shitty being back here would make you feel and now you needed to get out.

An easy smile is spreading across his face at your agreement, a gentle hand rubbing at your shoulder. “Why don't you go wait outside? I'll call my driver.” You don't even bother to mull over the fact that he has his own driver now. One of the perks that came with his new lifestyle, you assume.

With another small nod, you're turning to exit the building to wait for him. Mind racing with how you'd be able to tell him about this without ruining everything he has now. He's accomplished so much and here you come ready to ruin everything.

Again.

Two large men lead you into a restaurant a bit too fancy for a late lunch that neither of you is in the mood for. Ushering you to a table hidden in the back corner before stealing seats a few feet away. Yoongi orders food for the both of you when the waitress is coming with waters.

“Water? Think we might need something a little stronger for the conversation we're about to have.” Trying to lighten the mood, but the stone-cold expression on his face as the nervous laugh dying on your lips.

Lips pulled into a tight line, you watch as he reaches for the wrapped straw at the side of the table. He takes his time with peeling the paper from it before crumpling it between his fingers, dipping the straw into the iced drink with the other hand.

“I don't drink anymore.”

Eyebrows shooting up in surprise at his quiet admission. You had always known Yoongi to be a man that valued a good glass of whiskey. Liked to have a few sips while he worked, always brought his own bottle to parties claiming 'you young-ins don't know how to drink'.

He always knew his limit, a couple of glasses here and there but he'd never push it where it became an awful habit. Made sure of it. But the sound of his voice when telling you he quit? Told you that he might've slipped in that department. And you can't help but wonder if that was your fault too.

“Tell me about my kid. What's he like?” Clearing his throat, his back straightens slightly – in an attempt to change the subject. Put a halt to all the questions he knows are bouncing around in that head of yours.

And you know him well enough to know when he doesn't want to be pushed. So you allow the shift, unwrapping your straw and dropping it into the glass.

“He's like most three-year-olds, you know? I named him Hyunki.” Another thing that you had wanted to tell him since you left.

It had only been a few months into your relationship when Yoongi told you. The largest of smiles on his face as he went through the list he kept locked away in his head, gauging your expressions as he listed each off. As if he was checking to see if you liked any of them.

SEPTEMBER 18TH, 2015 | 21:42

“You're telling me you've never given it any thought?” The surprise is clear in your boyfriend's voice as he cranes his neck to get a better look at you. Arms wrapped securely around your waist, holding you to his chest.

The movie that he had picked out has faded to background noise since he started this random conversation. If you had been paying attention to the screen rather than noting every cute thing he did, you'd know that his words weren’t as random as you thought. That they were related to the passing scene.

It was so hard to concentrate around him, you were discovering. Could never focus too long on the things that didn't involve him when he was near you. Always found yourself lost in those pretty dark eyes or mesmerized by that gummy smile of his.

How were you supposed to focus on the plot of a movie when the world's most attractive man was behind you? Holding you to him and chuckling so close to your ear it was like surround sound made just for you. You didn't even remember the name of the damn film.

“I can honestly say I don't have the identity of my future children chosen.” You speak through a laugh as he’s rolling his eyes, hands falling low on your waist until he's able to grasp your hips.

Easily, he's lifting your body from between his legs, turning you to straddle his lap. The movie has been forgotten in his mind too. Your hands find the sides of his neck, tips of your fingers tickling his blond hair. “That's not what I mean, you can't pick who your kids are gonna be.” He speaks in a matter-of-fact tone that has a smile tugging on your lips.

Soft hands find the backs of your thighs, holding your body to his. Yoongi tilts his head back just slightly so he can get a better view of your face. Searching your features carefully before he says what he's thinking.

Can basically see the wheels turning in his head as his nibbles on his lower lip, deep in thought while he watching you. And you watch him right back, lips pursed in an attempt to mask the smile threatening to take over your features. You had always loved the way he looked at you.

“What do you think of Hyunki, then?” Different from all the outrageous names he had listed before. Hyunki. You could definitely see yourself raising a little boy with his face and that name. But it's too early to say it, relationship still too new no matter how you felt. You didn't want to scare him away.

“Hyunki's nice.”

One of the hands he had rested on your back of your leg is shifting, moving forward so he can reach your stomach. Through the fabric of your t-shirt, he traces random patterns – eyes focused on the movement of his fingers.

“My first son. I want to call him Hyunki.” Eyes slowly traveling up the length of your body until he's pinning you with such an intense stare it has a gasp falling from your lips. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, hopeful.

“Okay. I like Hyunki.” Yoongi's smile grows on his face, head tilting up to capture your lips with his. His grip tightening around your thigh to pull your body further onto his. Large hand flattening on the small of your back, guiding you until you were lying underneath him.

That was the first night you slept together.

APRIL 13TH, 2020 | 15:58

Warmth spread through his limbs with the knowledge that you had remembered your conversation all those years ago. Not only remembered it but honored him by using the name he had wanted. Just knowing that was enough to take a bit of the sting of leaving him away. Just a bit.

“So? What does he do? What does he like?” Had expected him to have more questions about you leaving, but it seemed his interest was elsewhere. And the least you could do was tell him whatever he wanted to know.

He was in charge here.

“He doesn't do much, you know?” A soft laugh falls from your lips, hand reaching up to push the hair from your face. “He's been really interested in sports lately. Plays soft basketball with Taehyung sometimes and-”

“Taehyung?” Yoongi's brow lifts at the mention of the unfamiliar name. Head tilting to the side slightly. “Who's Taehyung? One of his friends?”

“Kookie's boyfriend. He hasn't started preschool yet, so he doesn't really have any friends.” The waitress is heading toward the table, food in hand as two other women follow her.

Yoongi considers your words as the food is set down in front of you. Willing himself to keep calm as he takes in all the information that you're giving him. All of the things he missed. The fact that he has to ask questions about his own son, things that he should already know.

But he doesn't go off the way that he wants to, doesn't chastise you and place the blame exactly where it belongs. Instead, he's blowing a thick breath through his lips – leaning back against the cushion chairs.

“You moved to Busan, then?” From your countless stories about your best friend from Busan, he remembered enough to know that the 'Kookie' you were talking about was that same friend. So, the nod of your head is expected.

You watch as he blinks slowly, hand reaching for the clean utensils on the table. He clears his throat slightly, head tilting to the side in the way it does when he's thinking things over. Distracting himself by filling his personal plate with the various foods spread out in front of you two.

Silently, he gestures for you to eat and despite your hesitance, you move to fill your plate as well. Nervous. Pondering on whether or not you should just blurt it out. Ignore how he obviously doesn't want to know the ins and outs of your disappearance, if he did then he would be hitting you with questions, right?

Wished you were able to read him. Know what he was thinking right now. It had been something that you could do easily, simple gestures and facial expressions giving way to exactly what was going on in the head of his. However, it seemed that through time you've lost that ability.

“If he's three... shouldn't he be in preschool by now?” Yoongi's asking casually, shoveling a spoonful of food into his mouth as he watches you. How could he eat? Why wasn't he yelling at you? Pissed out of his mind. He's being so cool and it was throwing you.

You begin to eat after the expectant stare he gives you. Taking small bites, sitting on pins and needles in front of him. “Tae stays at home with him, but we were planning to enroll him once he's settled here a bit.”

There it was again, that 'we'. The 'we' that didn't include him in decisions that he should very well be included in. Only in this case, you weren't referring to the 'we' who decided on your disappearance, just the 'we' that have been helping you raise the son he had no idea about.

Yoongi can't help but feel bitter at the small fact. But he wills himself to bury it. Can't argue with you. Not when there's now so much at stake. When you have a kid that he doesn't even know, a kid that he wants to know. Needs to.

You held all the cards and without the knowledge of why you left in the first place, he had no idea what might set you off to where you were packing up and leaving again. That was the last thing he wanted, then and now.

He had to play his cards right.

Casual conversation remains steady between the two of you as you're finishing your meal. Filling Yoongi in on all the things he's missed in the past three years has your heart growing heavy. He's missed so much and it was because of you. Because you couldn't stand your ground and be with him.

He'd only ask you for one thing. Expected just one thing from you. And you couldn't even handle that.

“Does he know about me?” The words are coming out hushed after a stretch of silence. You had just finished sharing with Yoongi the slight obsession Hyunki has with Lego sets. How he could spend hours at his play table, building. He smiled real big at that, but from the slow way it vanished you could tell something was weighing on his mind. And this was it.

It pains you to shake your head. Hurts even worse when you see the sadness that flashes through his eyes. “Why not?” He's almost afraid of the answer, but can't keep himself from asking.

“It's always been us, you know. Me, him, Tae and Kookie. And he likes having them around. I didn't want him to feel like he was missing out on something.” So young that he hadn't started asking questions yet. Wondering why kids around him had two parents instead of one plus two respective uncles.

You thought you had been making the right decision, but as this week was set out to prove – you had no idea what the right decision was. And judging from the look on Yoongi's face, you were more than positive that you had made the wrong decision by keeping the fact that Hyunki had a father secret.

“So who does he think is his dad?” He's doing the thing where he's trying to keep himself from losing it. That hasn't changed.

The slight twitch of his brow, the flare of his nostrils as he took deep calming breaths. Desperately trying to keep his composure and not freak out on you the way he wanted to, you wished he just let go and give you what you knew you deserved.

“No one,” You're rushing out, hoping it could do something to relax him. “I don't even think he knows what that means.” Flinching at your own words, you force a breath from your lips. You try to change course. “I honestly thought it would be better for him this way.”

Hesitantly, you reach for his hand that had balled into a fist on the table. Soothing fingers running over his knuckles. “You can tell him if you want. Do you want to meet him?”

“Obviously, I'd like to meet my son. He's my son.” There's harshness in his tone that he doesn't bother to mask. That you don't miss as he's pulling his hand from your grasp, going back to the meal in front of him.

Lunch ends in silence. Yoongi quietly pays the bill, mumbles a goodbye to you as he puts you in a cab. Doesn't even bother to look back as he turns with his bodyguards to walk toward the car that had brought you here.

Yoongi is slouching in the back seat of his car, arms crossed over his knees and face pressed against his sleeve. Of all the scenarios he's imagined with seeing you again, he never thought it'd be like this. Had been so sure it would be clear where he'd stand with you if you were to ever appear in his life again.

But, it wasn't that simple. Because nothing in his life was ever that simple. Of course, he still loved you – an annoying fact that was hard to ignore. Yet, he'd be able to do it, would be able to move on despite his heart being filled with you, if it wasn't for the fact that you had a kid together now.

A human binding the two of you, of which he hadn't even met. And he wanted to. Wanted nothing more than to be apart of that kid's life, but that meant being apart of your life too. He had been too afraid to get the answer's from you today, not wanting his deepest worry to become true within your words.

Not knowing was better than knowing in his mind. Whatever it was, why you left him – took your unborn child and bolted, he didn't want to know. Afraid that it would be something so horrible that it'd crumble his already cracked heart.

“Everything alright back there, Mister Agust?” His driver speaks noticing the shake of Yoongi's back that accompanies the fresh tears that roll down his cheeks. Face hidden, he takes a moment to compose himself before lifting his head.

The back of his hand wiping at his damp eyes before he's pushing his hair back on his forehead. Eyes shifting to look out the window as he nods his head. A heavy sigh falls from his lips, dark sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose to cover his reddening eyes.

Tires skid to a complete stop in front of the building and Yoongi is stepping out of the car, hands shoved in his pockets as he takes slow steps to the front doors of the studio.

Words leave his lips as a hushed plea, a delayed answer to the question he had been asked in the car. What he had been thinking since he first scrolled through your pictures, seeing the life you had created without him.

“I just want to see my kid.”

— when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. to be added to the taglist, send me an ask !! feedback is highly !! appreciated, it’s the motivation i need to keep the fic going nd fun for you guys!!<33

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tipsydipsydo · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Angst; Fluff; Smut

AU: Historical/Middle Age! AU

Warnings: arranged + forced marriage; gender roles according to the period; sexual themes + sexual language; Praising; Body-Worship; Nipple Play; Fingering; First experience of an orgasm; Loss of virginity (unprotected Sex)

Summary: You're getting married tomorrow and you want to say goodbye to your mare. There you met the stable boy Taehyung for the last time, who's your best friend and childhood crush at the same time. You will experience a stormy night full of love and passion and you'll give the biggest proof of love to him...

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With a thumping heart you peep around the corner, but the cold hallway with high stone walls lies quietly in front of you, only a few candles in their stands lit up the long corridor. The servants must have finally retired to their own rooms and even the last noises in the courtyard has fallen silent. It must be close to midnight, but you couldn't sneak away earlier. The danger of being caught has been too big. But now you grab the thin skirt of your white night gown and lift it a little bit up, so that you could walk as silently as possible along the corridor, across the courtyard to the horse stable. Light-footed you quickly put one foot in front of the other, the bright Full Moon guides you with its light the way to the stable. Quietly you open the small side door and slip in, where you’re greeted the familiar smell of horse, hay and leather.

Here, too, the torches were extinguished late. Just thinking about what a momentous day tomorrow will be will make you sick and silent tears run down your cheeks. Tomorrow you will be your wedding with a man who was already over thirty years old when you were born and whom you didn't even really know. He was here once two months ago so that you two could „get acquainted" with each other. Theobald, as he is called, has a bald head, an ugly potbelly and with every, almost frightening smirk you could get a glimpse of yellow teeth. At your first meeting, he had already patterned you with such a disgustingly lustful look that a cold shudder ran down your back and still makes you nauseous at the thought of it.

Your eyes are slowly getting used to the darkness, fortunately some Moonlight falls through the small ventilation hatches, so you can reach the last Box without tripping over something. Securely you open the door and gently push the butt of my beloved Grey Mare Estrilda to the side. Curiously, she lifts her big, noble head and turns a little to you. As if she knows what will happen to you tomorrow, she tenderly presses her head against your chest. Until now you had only cried quietly for yourself, but now, you bury your face in her soft, long mane and let your feelings run free. Why didn't your mother, when you were born, take action against being promised to such an old man?

But every time you asked her, she just shrugged with her shoulders helplessly and murmured softly,"that's just how it is, Y/N. I wanted to talk to your father, but he only saw the opportunity in finally reconciling two hostile Empires. With this marriage. You have to believe me, dear. I was hoping for something different for you. That you will be happier than I am. That you can live your life more in more freedom."

You have always been different, your curiosity, your stubbornness and your self-confidence do not correspond to the expectations one has of a daughter of the noble family. You love horses and riding, you can't do anything with jewelry, dresses out of expensive silk and velvet or perfumes. You loved to ride in the big hunt at least once a year and go hunting with your falcon Alan. You are not interested in the easy, comfortable life as the wife of a nobleman. You would much rather have helped once in the kitchen and learned how to cook a meal. But this was strictly forbidden to you, after all you are not a maid! Your wish is simply to be allowed to be as you want it to be. You do not care whether it is appropriate for a woman of your rank or not.

Your body slowly calms down from the convulsion and one last time you take the smell of your beloved mare deep into your lungs. Because she will stay here while you return to his estate with your new husband. That would become your new home. Although the wedding party will be celebrated here... but you will spend our wedding night with him on his castle. Then you will be trapped in the clutches of a sadistic, cruel and heartless ruler. You have heard some whisperings and rumors from the other Kingdom. The thought lies like a bitter, putrid taste on your tongue and your stomach twists at the thought that you have to show yourself naked to this disgusting man. You would rather burn at the stake as a wicked whore than surrender your virginity to him.

Suddenly, you hear the clatter of a fallen bucket and a dull cursing behind you, which is why you‘re startled and push yourself out of instinct into the darkest corner of the horse box. In vain, because the shadowy figure steps closer and opens the box door. Your heart beats fast, who is that and would he betray you for wandering around in the stable at night? But your anxious heart romptly calms down as you look into the soft and gentle face of Taehyung, the stable boy.

"Y/N? What are you doing here, wouldn't you have to sleep since a long time? After all, tomorrow is your wedding.", the last sentence spit Taehyung literally out. A relieved smile comes to your lips when you see your only and best friend. "Taehyung...", you murmur and fall into his arms, trying your best to suppress a sob. His muscular arms are wrapping themself around you, holding you and run tenderly his fingers through your hair.

The first time you met was on your eleventh birthday when you received Estrilda as a birthday present and he was assigned to look after the welfare of your horse. At that time he had already been fifteen, and now, nine years later, he has matured into a handsome twenty-Four year old man. He is the only one who ever understood you and even offered to run away with him when you found out about your marriage. But you would be looked for all over the country and everything would be more like a deadly skewer, which is why you sadly but thankfully refused. Above all, you do not want to expose your beloved mother to the cruel anger of your father, he would blame her if one morning you could no longer be found. It is inevitable that you must marry this disgusting, sadistic devil, whether you like it or not. But one thing you will decide for yourself...

Taehyung's masculine smell of sweat and horse calms you down more than ever and you snuggle up sobbing at his chest, steeled muscles from the daily hard work. You let your feelings run free and enjoys the gentle caresses he gives you. He is even more against the wedding than you and you have already guessed the reason for a long time. He develops feelings for you, which would go beyond your normal friendship-relationship. This assumption triggers a gentle flutter in your stomach and you wish you could be even closer to him than you already are. You both knew it, but you have never really said it out loud. For this fact requires no words. You’re in love with each other.

It was clear from the beginning that this fragile love has no future, and yet it feels so right, even though it is completely wrong. But he gives you the affection and attention that even your own mother could never give to you. Tonight, you want to give something to Taehyung that would belong to himcompletely alone. Nobody could ever steal it from him, this gift is irreplaceable.

It would be your virginity. If you have to marry such a cruel man, you want to give your innocence to someone who has proved to be worthy enough. Taehyung is worthy for it.

You detach yourself a little from his chest and look up into those beautiful dark brown eyes in which you‘re threaten to drown every time. Your fingers glide up to his strong neck, through his soft, black curls and tug on them gently until he moans softly.

“Tae... From tomorrow we will not see each other again. We only have this night left. I have already given you my heart, it will remain yours forever. But tonight I want to give you something else... My virginity shall be yours.”, you breathe softly against his lips.

Taehyung startles and looks down at you in disbelief. "B-But Y/N...I-I could never accept something like this! Such a thing like your virginity belongs to Theo-", he rambles overwhelmed and want to turn your opinion against that idea,but you just press your lips almost violently onto his.

"No. It should never belong to Theobald. If I already have to make the marriage covenant with him, then I want to be able to decide by whom my virginity will be token!", you reply to your lover and bite him hard into the lower lip.

He is still visibly surprised, but now your passion reaches him too and he respond with the same desire to your kiss. Your tongues find each other and starts a wild catching game. Heat rises in your bodies, reaches every pore of your body and makes this unknown feeling of pleasure pulsate through your veins. You long for Taehyung's love, one last time you want to feel his affection before you go to hell tomorrow. At least once you want to see heaven before you are banished to hell for the Rest of your life. The breath of your loved one becomes faster, he is panting, this kiss alone pushes you both in such a tremendous passion, which you have kept so forcibly hidden from each other otherwise.

"L-Let‘s go to the hayloft...", Taehyung murmurs at your neck in a deep, hoarse voice. You nod breathlessly, you are completely overwhelmed by the feelings that a simple kiss can trigger in you if you just love someone with your whole heart. Securely, you climb one by one the narrow wooden ladder up to the hayloft and you two throw tightly wrapped up into the hay. Your lips can hardly keep away from each other. The desire and longing for Taehyung increases every moment.

"Please...", you whisper in a whimpering voice, your body feels like it's on fire and this unknown longing for union drags you into a swirl. But Taehyung wants to get to know you and your breathtaking body, trying to memorize as much as possible. He never wants to forget how you look, feel, smell and taste. The cords of your nightgown are opened unnoticed by him, suddenly you just feel the scratchy hay under you and his loving hands on your skin.

"Beautiful.... So beautiful...", he mutters again and again under his breath. His eyes wanders over your exposed body, blown out eyes lingering on your breasts. Taehyung admired you silently since you’ve met for the first time, you always took his breath with your beauty away. Especially the last few years he realized what kind of effect you have on him, how you’ve grown up from the little wild princess to a confident young Lady. How his own and your Body has changed of the years and with it, how his maybe not so innocent desires awakened in him.

You are gorgeous, he can’t even describe your majestic body in words properly, you leave him speechless. You look better than in his sinfully fantasies he has at night, tossing his sweaty and needy Self around in Bed, trying to prevent those indecent thoughts about his own best friend. Well, his love of his life. He shouldn’t think that way about the princess, is he insane or something?! Still, he couldn’t reject his feelings for you, neither you could.

You both will end up in hell, you’re doing so sinful things right now but why they’re feeling so good? Why is it a sin to have such desires, to have the need to feel so close to each other, why are you sinning when you feel so much love, desire and pleasure that you couldn’t bear it anymore? You couldn’t understand and you would never.

„My royal highness, m-may I ask if you allow me to touch your Breasts?”, stutter Taehyung out, gulping hard and biting his lower lip in desperation. He knows he would hurt you somehow through fusion of your bodies but alone the thought of it hurts him right in his heart. Taehyung doesn’t wants to be the one who’s hurting you, he wants that you’ll keep this night as good as possible in your memory.

„O-Oh my god, Taehyung... d-don’t call me that, please just call me by my Name. ...and please, oh please touch me, I want to feel your Hands all over my Body!”, you pant out whimpering, arching your spine to encourage Taehyung in his actions.

A deep, longing moans leaves his lips, finally touching and kissing every conceivable part of your body. For the first time and probably also for the last time in your life, you will learn what this true love is. Something of which so many Minnesingers always sing about. It feels so indescribably good that the tears are just running down your cheeks, you can’t hold them anymore, you feel too good, too loved. Only this night you want to see heaven before you have to burn in hell as a deflowered whore until the end of your life. But this one time is worthy for you to sin. A lustful moan escapes your lips as his lips enclose one of your nipples and caress them tenderly with his tongue.

Countless whispers and pleads are falling from your slightly parted lips, you’re chanting his name like a mantra. Every noise that comes from your tongue let Taehyung‘s need to pleasure you even more grow. Almost helpless, as if you’re drowning, you grab Tae‘s strong Biceps and look up to him. Your eyes are sparkling from the tears which ran down your cheeks, the unconditional love in them is crushing Taehyung‘s Soul.

"Oh Y/N, I love you so much... I don’t know how to express them so they would portray the pure feelings I have for you in my chest, in my soul. Please let me show you something else...", he wispers into your ear, nibbling tenderly on your earlobe.

His other hand glides through the valley of your breasts, over your stomach down your sweet and hot center. You whine softly, you’re a little flustered, nobody touched you down there in such a way before. Almost automatically your thighs want to close again, just Taehyung’s gentle and caressing hand keep you from doing so.

"Shhh, my precious Angel, don’t be ashamed... you’re gorgeous and so beautiful, you can’t imagine how bad I want you. You smell so delicious, you’re driving me insane! Would you like to continue or should I stop? I will do whatever you want, just tell me..", murmurs Taehyung’s low voice, you can clearly hear the tremble of arousal in it. After you took a few deep breaths to calm your oversensitive nerves, you’re spreading slowly your thighs for him.

Taehyung‘s eyes are fixated on your face, watching patiently your facial reactions for any discomfort. Now, his hand is coming to life again and moves forward until it disappeared between your legs. His fingertips moves incredibly gentle over your soft pussy lips, slowly parting them and let his fingers soak in your lust juice. They run up and down, teasing your clit and preparing your entrance for his length.

Waves of Lust electrify your whole Body, every fiber and nerve is pumped full of sexual desire and you’re gasping for air. You’ve never felt that way before, you have no clue what kind of sweet spot that is but you want Taehyung to touch it over and over again.

Why does sinning feels so incredible good? You’re fallen for the devils work, you love sinning when it feels that amazing.

"Please, please, please... Taehyung, do that again, it feels so good-", you sob out, holding on his broad shoulders as if your life depends on him. Honestly, it does.

"Yeah? Does that feel good, my Princess? Do you want more?", rasps your beloved Taehyung. His fingers speeds up, flicking your cute little pearl with his thumb in a rapid pace now. His middle and ringfinger is pounding into your tight, pulsating channel and is stretching you open. His movement creates lewd squelching noises which makes you a little blush. The coil of lust in your abdomen grows unstoppable, you don’t know to handle this unfamiliar feeling. Your Body is shaking, whimpers and choked out whines filling the hay loft. You don’t understand what is happening, just pure unfiltered need and desire clouded your mind and you can’t think straight anymore.

"Oh my- Oh my god, Tae... I-I am... I don’t know what is happening-"

"I know Baby, everything is okay, just let yourself go... I‘m here, I will catch you when you’re falling apart..."

It just needs a few more strokes of his thumb on your oversensitive clit until the ball of pleasure bursts open and fills every pore of your body with pure ecstasy. You can’t hold your tears of pleasure back anymore, the small and so precious diamonds are rolling out of the corner of your eye until Taehyung’s Lips are catching them.

"Baby... are you alright? Did it felt good?", he asks quietly and rubs soothingly over the top of your thighs. Avoiding your center on purpose, he doesn’t want to overstimulate you even further.

"T-Tae... that- that felt so good... h-how did you do that? I-I can’t hold my tears back, I am sorry!" A weak sob leaves your lips and you bury your face into Taehyung’s chest. He caress you gently, whispering sweet nothings and praises into your ear, worshipping you to the fullest. Promising you to show you how you can make yourself feeling that good, teaching you how you can make love to yourself.

After you came down from your high, you gently grab the soft baby hair in his nape and move his face towards you.

"Taehyung, I want to feel you as close as possible, I want to merge with you, I want to make love to you- ...I want you.", you whisper and hold his face in your hands, looking him deep into his eyes.

"Oh, I will... I will serve you with everything you wants,my Dear. Please lay down and spread those beautiful legs for me again...", he answers and smile softly at you. The sweet love names he picked for you makes your stomach flutter und the blush on your cheeks is darkening. Taehyung gives you a last sweet smile full of love before your lips meet again and he pushes into you.

A short, stabbing pain flares through your body, but that was all. He holds still into you until you give him the permission to move. At first, it was a slow and gentle rhythm but your sweet moans and whimpers encourage him to go faster and in the end he looses all his control over his suppressed sexual needs. Making love to you in the most passionate way possible.

He shows you the heaven on earth and love takes on a whole new meaning for you. You trust him unconditionally and he shows you that you are equal. You are an equal woman, an equal person for him. He loves and respects you. All this is the most beautiful thing you have ever experienced in your life. You have given him your virginity and he has given you a son with these wonderful brown eyes and dark curls.

"Mother, why do you always cry when you see me? I didn't do anything today... ", asks your little six-year-old son and looked at you questioningly with those chocolate brown eyes that bring you to tears every time.

"You look so much like your father. Your real father."you say quietly.

"Did he hurt you, Mommy?", he asks with big fearfully eyes and you quickly shake your head.

"No, not at all! H-He had been the only man who had ever really loved me...“

„...the only one to whom my heart will forever belong."will you bring barely audible over your lips.

#btswritersguild #bangtanhq #bts smut #taehyung middle age au #bts x reader #bangtanarmynet #taehyung smut #bts medieval au #thehouseofbangtan #taehyung x reader #purplearmynet #bts x reader smut #bts angst #deflowered #bts fluff #bts x reader medieval

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

let him be soft (and let him be mine) p2

Summary: After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel

or; Derek's self-sacrificing tendencies meet Spencer's abandonment issues. It gets messy before it gets better

Tags: hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

TW: abadonment issues, allusions to grief/loss, some religious imagery (a catholic church and a priest have a small role in the plot)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k Total Word Count: 4.5k

Part One // Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Emily's Edit 1 2 3

Emily (@criminalmindsvibez) and I have worked together on a project based on this poem. Her edits and my fic go hand in hand, so go and check hers out! She posted part two yesterday and just posted part three! It's been so fun to work together, so please go and reblog her beautiful edit <3

Spencer smiles, feeling a little bit lighter after getting everything off his chest. “Thank you.”

As he watches the priest walk out of the nave and into what Spencer suspects is the Sanctuary, he hears something that simultaneously warms his heart and twists his stomach in anxiety.

Derek, calling his name.

“Oh, God,” Derek cries as soon as he’s rushed over to sit next to Spencer, wrapping him up in a tight hug, “baby, I was so worried. I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt and let you come back to me but I just couldn’t do it. I had to get Pen to track your phone in the end.”

“I’m sorry, Der,” Spencer says, pulling away and blinking tearily at the anxiety mixed with relief written across his boyfriend’s face. Guilt floods his stomach as he thinks about the terror he’s just put Derek through: the exact same feeling he’s been lamenting over Derek inflicting upon him. How is he any better? If anything, he’s only worse; Derek does what he does to serve others, Spencer’s been nothing but selfish all evening.

“No, baby,” Derek protests, lifting a hand to his face and brushing away a falling tear, “you don’t need to apologise, just… talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Spencer doesn’t waste any time in agreeing. It’s the least his boyfriend deserves. “Can we go home? I want to eat that Thai food in bed while I tell you. I’ve already cried one too many times in a church for the day”

Derek chuckles at that. “Of course, pretty boy. Come on. Let’s get you home.” He takes Spencer’s hand gently and leads him towards the exit, and when Spencer turns back briefly before walking out of the building, he doesn’t miss the smiling priest lingering near the altar.

⭐️

Derek doesn’t let go of his hand the whole drive home, clinging tightly even on the elevator up to their apartment, and it only serves to make Spencer feel guiltier. How had this not clicked earlier? He never stopped to think about the worry his boyfriend was going through back home, only prioritising himself and his own selfish feelings.

He starts to wonder whether he should actually tell Derek after all. His boyfriend is so endlessly kind and selfless and wonderful and Spencer wants to point out his one flaw? After he’s left him panicked and concerned for his well being all evening?

He anxiously gnaws on his bottom lip as Derek tucks him into bed, seemingly oblivious to his distress as he kisses his head gently before making light work of reheating the take out he’d ordered earlier. Spencer’s stomach spins and turns with anxiety as he burrows himself under the covers, desperate to hide from all that’s to come, unable to escape the helter-skelter of emotions consuming his mind.

Soon enough, Derek makes his way into the bedroom, turning off the main light in favour of their various cosy lamps and flicks on the TV, setting it on reruns of Fawlty Towers with the volume turned down before arranging the takeout on trays before finally slipping under the duvet himself.

“Baby, I know that for whatever reason you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on,” Derek says softly, turning Spencer’s chin to face him and gazing imploringly into his eyes, “that poor lip of yours will be bitten off by the morning. But I want you to know you can trust me with whatever this is. I promise that there is no problem, no issue, no stressor that we couldn’t overcome together. Me and you, we’re a dream team, aren’t we? We can solve this, but not if you’re not completely honest with me.”

Damn it, now Spencer’s going to feel guilty no matter what path he chooses. He either lies and breaks Derek’s trust, or he tells the truth and breaks his heart.

But the priest’s words from earlier flash through his mind, and he takes a deep breath, knowing what he has to do. “I’m scared,” he admits, tentatively. It feels like a good place to start.

“Okay,” Derek replies soothingly, eyebrows knitted in concern as his thumb traces the side of Spencer’s face. “What are you scared of, Spence?”

“I’m scared… I’m scared of losing you,” he whispers, casting his eyes downward.

He feels Derek tense next to him, but he doesn’t know whether it’s because he’s confused or something worse. “Baby boy, you have to understand that you’re it for me, I’m never going anywhere—”

“No,” Spencer interrupts, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes again, “not like that. I know you love me, I’ve never doubted that for a second. I’m scared of losing you to something worse than another person. I’m scared of losing you to a gunshot, a stab wound, a bomb blast. I’m scared of losing you to the job, Derek.”

“Oh.” His thumb falters in its soothing movements against Spencer’s cheek before it retracts completely.

“You’re a hero, Der,” he says tearily, not bothering to try and fight them this time, “you’re an inspiration. You’re strong and powerful and the kindest, most selfless man I’ve ever met, but I— I’m gonna need you to start being a little more selfish.”

“I don’t… What do you mean?”

“Remember back in 2007 when that woman was trapped in her car with a bomb under her seat? You stayed right next to her the whole time, even though you knew that if that bomb went off, it was taking you with it. Because in that moment, looking after that woman was all that mattered.”

Derek nods hesitantly, his brows knit even tighter.

“Well, I could deal with that. I accepted it. We were newly in a relationship, and I knew the kind of man you were when I started dating you. I didn’t think you’d give that up for me so soon. But, Derek, it’s been seven years now. We’ve been together for almost a decade, and you’re still the same man. You run headlong into danger with no regard for how it will affect you. And I love your selflessness and generosity, I really do, but I need you to know how that makes me feel.

“It makes me feel like I’m not important to you, Der.”

“Oh, baby, no,” Derek says, distraught as he wraps Spencer in a tight, urgent hug, hand flying to run his fingers through his curls.

“But, no, it does, Derek. Because it feels like one of these days, you won’t be as lucky as you always have been, and I’ll be alone again. You’re all I have, and I can’t lose you, I just can’t.” The tears are joined by heaving, desperate sobs as he cries into Derek’s shoulder, both of them holding onto one another with clawing fingers, impossibly close as emotions fill the room.

When Spencer finally calms down enough, he pulls away to find Derek’s eyes red and his cheeks wet, too. “I— I had no idea you felt like this, baby boy,” he says earnestly, looking deeply into his eyes as his devastated emotions play across his open expression. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you were anything less than the most important person in the whole world to me, because you are, Spencer.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispers sadly. “You didn’t know.”

“No, but I do now. I never stopped to think how this was affecting you, and I’m so deeply sorry for that.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence as they fall against one another, both accepting that the Thai is going to go cold again and they’ll probably end up with a greasy 2am pizza instead.

“It’s because of my dad,” Derek admits eventually, breaking the silence. “When I watched him bleed out in front of me, I swore I would never let that happen to another person. I would never let another person die on my watch, not unless I was going down with them. And that was an easy principle to live by when I was a cop, it translated well to the FBI, and it worked great when I was single. But now… I have you. And you’re more important than a promise I made to myself when I was ten.

“The thing is, though, that I don’t know how to override an instinct that I’ve built and enforced for my entire career. Spencer, you’re everything to me, and you’re more important than this, but I… I don’t know how to change.”

Another tear slides down Spencer’s tired, puffy face at Derek’s words, mostly because they were exactly what he was expecting. The only reason he’s kept this to himself for so long is because he knew that no possible resolution could make this okay.

“It’s okay, Der,” he says sadly, “I get it—”

“I think I should leave the BAU.”

Spencer sits bolt upright at that, turning to his boyfriend with shock written in every line of his face. “What?”

“Listen, I’m 43. I’ve been on the job for twenty-one years, and I’m getting tired, Spencer. I was planning to bring this up at a much better moment, but I’ve just finished that house on the Mount Pleasant border, and I think we should move in there. I’m ready for a quieter life, Spencer. I want to do things that make me happy, focus on the future of our family, me, you, and Clooney — kids, too, if we decide that’s the way we want to go — and leave this life revolving around death and crime and the bad in the world behind.”

“You’re serious?” Spencer asks, completely in disbelief as he stares at Derek like he’s grown an extra head. This was never a possibility he considered. Not even a little bit.

“I am,” Derek promises. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and this just seals the deal, really. I don’t want you to be feeling this scared all the time, especially not if it’s set off even by a couple of bruised ribs. Diving in front of a bullet when wearing a vest is hardly the most dangerous thing I’ve done.”

Derek chuckles but Spencer just smiles sadly at just how true that statement is. “No, it isn’t.”

“I’d love to focus on the property business full time, renovate more houses and really make a career out of it. Build a proper business, live in the suburbs, be happy and safe and alive with the love of my life for as long as possible,” Derek says, eyes warm and serious as he brushes his hand against Spencer’s face again. “I’m so in love with you it hurts.”

Spencer’s heart melts and he presses into Derek’s side, burying in as close as he can get. The tears that leak from his eyes this time are at least happy ones. “If you leave,” he says, after considering it for a moment, “I think I want to leave, too.”

“Really? You don’t have to, Spencer. You can stay at the BAU if you want to.”

“I know. But I’ve given over a third of my life to this job, and it’s given me all it can, I think. Before Gideon recruited me, I always thought I’d end up teaching, and I always knew I’d love it. Researching and teaching others what I’ve found out for a living sounds like a dream, and the thought of coming home to you, knowing that you’re safe every night as we sit down for dinner and chat about our normal, civilian lives… well, it’s everything I didn’t know I’d been longing for.”

A kind of peace that Spencer hasn’t felt in years settles over his chest as he basks in the thought of a safe and happy future with Derek, one not plagued by the trauma they’ve faced willingly for far too vast proportions of their lives, and he knows it’s the right decision.

“Wow,” Derek says, and woven in with the shock in his voice is relief, clear as day, “we’re leaving the BAU.”

“We’re leaving the BAU.”

Spencer eventually packs the Thai away and orders an extra large pepperoni pizza for delivery, letting Derek rest in bed as he takes over the beavering around. Fawlty Towers continues to play across the TV screen throughout the course of the night, Spencer resting his head on the top of Derek’s chest, careful to avoid his injuries. In that moment, with his favourite TV show playing, and an empty pizza box on the floor of their bedroom, cuddled up safely with the man he knows he’s going to spend forever with, Spencer thanks a God he’s not sure he believes in that Derek, right now, is soft, happy, and most importantly, his.

Let him be soft, and let him be mine.

— Please, let him be happy.

If you haven't already - check out Emily's post, and give some love to the original poem source here!

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @doctorenby @suburban--gothic@strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #cm fic #moreid #moreid angst #moreid fluff #moreid fic #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #spencer reid/derek morgan #my writing

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poison-in-my-pen · 3 years ago

Text

featherweight

A/N: Follow up to the wilderlove series.

Marrakech was a honeymooners dream, but without the actual honeymoon. It was more romantic than our first time there when he was filming John Wick. This time around I had his full attention and that came with being spoiled at every turn and him giving in to my every whim, which I think he secretly enjoyed more than I did.

***

A week later we were back in the City and we agreed that we would keep our pregnancy, my pregnancy to ourselves for as long as we can manage it. This was our moment and we wanted to bask in it for as long as we could or before my belly would start to show, which would be months from now.

***

We fell into our routine, he went to LA when it was necessary, but for the most part we were here in NYC and I continued my marathon training with him a bit leery, but the doctor signed off and said since I was a seasoned runner there wasn’t much to be worried about because my body and lungs were well acclimated. This didn’t stop Keanu from being over-protective.

I tossed my running watch on the bed and peeled my socks off. I walked into the closet and came out with a massage ball. I sat on the chaise that faced the bed and I placed the ball on the floor, massaging the balls of my feet. He came out of the bathroom with a shirt in his hand, I watched him and braced myself as he picked up my watch and clicked a few buttons then placed it back down on the bed.

I felt the coolness of his eyes on me, "you ran thirteen miles?" I shrugged, "if that's what it says, I didn't realize I did." I lied as I stood and walked past him into the bathroom. I pulled my shirt over my head and felt his eyes in the mirror.

“You said you would take it easy.”

“I am.” I answered as I tugged on the straps of my sports bra and pulled it over my head.

His breath catches. “Running a half marathon is not taking it easy.”

I tilted my head and gazed at my boobs, are they bigger?

I tugged the string to my running tights. “Ke, it’s training season. I’m going to have to run twenty miles in a few weeks.” He became exasperated as if I told him I was funding a small militia to overtake NYC. “Dr. Rene said I was healthy and fit to continue my training. You were sitting right there or did you forget.”

He shakes his head, “I said I was okay with this, but I’m not. You need to stop, defer to next year.”

“I can't.”

“Or you won’t.”

“It’s the 50th anniversary. This race is big.”

“And you’re two months pregnant. I’m worried that the training is going to take a toll on you.”

“And I told you not to worry about that. This isn’t my first marathon. This will be my fourth.”

“But your first since 2016. It’s been four years since your last marathon.”

“You have to stop training?”

“Excuse me.”

“You're carrying our children.”

“And this is my body, nobody knows my body like I do.”

“You’re being reckless.”

“And you are being unreasonable.” I countered. “It’s not your choice to make.”

“Yes, it is, when you are putting yourself in harm's way. I don't want you running and that’s final.”

He pulled his shirt over his head, glared at me then turned and walked out of the bathroom.

I gawped after him. What just happened?

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, what in the actual fuck just happened?

***

I stepped out of the shower twenty minutes later feeling refreshed, but moody. I pulled on shorts and a crop top and made my way to the kitchen. He had his back to me and his phone up to his ear and a strong cup of coffee that made me crinkle my nose in his other hand.

“Thanks, Dave, text me when it’s done.”

He hung up his cell phone and turned to see me standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island. His anger was etched in his clenched jaw and knitted brows.

I sat across from him and he placed a cup of tea in front of me. I took a sip thinking of how best to plead to his softer side.

“Keanu.” I say softly.

His phone pinged and he looked at it and wrote a quick text. My cell phone vibrated and I pulled it from my shorts, it was a call from Debi, my assistant. I place the call on speakerphone.

“Hey Debi.”

“Hi, good morning, I’m just checking in to see if everything is alright.”

“Yeah, everything is fine, Whats up.”

“How are you feeling? Are you sick?”

“What? No, I'm not sick.”

“Okay because I just received an email confirming your medical deferment of the marathon.”

My eyes flashed upwards and he didn’t flinch. “Debi, I’ll call you back.” I hang up the call, my eyes becoming slits of fury.

“What did you do? You had no right.”

“You weren’t listening, so I took matters into my own hands.”

Anger gripped me by the throat and squeezed. “You had no right! None! What are you so afraid of?” I knew exactly what he was afraid of, but my ego wasn’t having it. I unleash my fury and Ambrose Bierce was right when he said, when you are angry you will make the best speech you will ever regret. “You being afraid that I’ll miscarry or have a stillborn has nothing to do with me or my training, that’s all on you.”

His movements were quick. Two strides and he was on my side of the kitchen island and in my face. I felt the heat and anger thrumming from him. “I’m trying to protect you from any unnecessary stress that can lead to early complications.”

“And you think this isn’t stressful? Ke,the doctor gave me the all-clear. I can do this. I am doing this. It's my body. I-.”

“You have never lost a child," he interrupted. I heard the tremor in his voice. “Y-you think you know pain and loss, you know nothing of it until you've held your unborn dead child in your hands.” He hissed. “There is no compromising or coming to a middle ground on this. You are not running, not until after our babies are born."

I saw the determination in his eyes, he wasn't going to give this up. He was prepared to drag this out for as long as it needed to, but I wasn't ready for how quickly my emotions and hormones laid down its arms. My shoulders fell and my eyes filled with tears, not because he was right because he was not, he had no right to tell me what to do with my body, but because I felt a slight tightness, a twinge in my belly as if the babies are telling us not to fight.

I reached out and placed my hand against his cheek, he leaned down so that our foreheads touched. I inhaled his warmth, his anger, his concern and exhaled calmness and love. I know the battle was lost, but I pleaded again hoping he would see reason. "Ke, please. Nothing is going to happen to me. Please."

He exhaled deeply and wiped the tears streaming down my cheeks. He ran the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip the way he did before he kissed me, I held my breath. He took a step back. "End of discussion." He picks up his coffee mug and leaves me standing in the kitchen.

****

Post Note: Did you really think I would let Keanu's birthday past without a new series? Shame on you! I can't believe wilderlove was 2 years ago. I hope you enjoy this new series, it's going to be so gooey like a warm & fresh out of the oven chocolate chip cookie.

*Keanu Reeves Fic Tag List: @missymysa @writerandee @my-fuckin-problem @all-by-myself98 @raindancer2004 @sarahivi @lovekeanureeves @gwenebear @howethornes @buttsucker99 @all-will-be-well-love @corpusthebamf @derangedcupcake @lovebug8301 @beacosta27 @esplosionedicoloriintesta @pigeonsbones @homeorbust @katnisspeetaprim @aspiringtranslator @celestiaelisia @zorrics @badhabitsbabyx @bookwormefm @jasmindaughteroftheworld @catsmieow @partypoison00 @harrisongslimited @suelonatomy @freyamoonriver @abeautifuldisplayofgeek @curlyhairedblueeyedangel

*Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the Keanu Reeves tag list or my permanent tag list.

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fan fiction #keanu reeves fandom #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #poison in my ink #poisoned veins #poisoned pen #poisoned ink #poison in my pen #poison in my veins #fantasy fiction #fan fiction #keanu reeves x oc

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fleabagdiaz · 3 years ago

Text

leaving home ain’t easy

madney, 2.7k, s5 speculation fic (sorta)

read on ao3

Chimney doesn’t think he’s ever been this tired in his life. Getting used to the whole dad thing has been hard enough, and now on top of it he’s pulling extra shifts to make ends meet, and staying up all night worried about his family. The sleep he does get is frequently interrupted by wordless cries, real or imagined. The only thing getting him from one day to the next is knowing that Maddie is even more tired than him. That he needs to be strong for her, and for Jee-Yun, for the family of his own that he finally managed to build. The thought of losing either of them, in any way, for any reason, is too much to bear. So he gets up in the morning and drinks two cups of coffee and kisses his beautiful daughter and aches to see the love of his life still in so much pain. He smiles as often as he can. Tries to smile enough for both of them until Maddie can again.

And he misses her. Even when she’s right in front of them, he misses her. He would do anything to take away even a fraction of her pain. Every day he tries to, and some days are better but most days are the same. So he just misses her, and loves her, and takes care of her as much as she’ll let him. Which is not as much as he’d like.

He does his best. To keep everything and everyone together and safe. To keep smiling for Jee. And he knows Maddie is doing her best too. More often than not, he feels like he’s spinning too many plates with not enough hands and something is bound to shatter. It won’t be like this forever. Things will get better. She will get better. Sometimes, though, it’s hard to remember that.

And he’s just so goddamn tired.

The day the blackout finally ends, he gets home from one of the longest shifts of his entire life practically sleepwalking through the door. All he wants is to collapse into bed next to Maddie and fall asleep to the sound of her breathing, content with the certainty that she’s safe and within arms reach.

As soon as he walks into their bedroom to see the bed pristinely made with a crisp white sheet of paper resting on the pillowcase, an alarm bell goes off in his head. Jee isn’t in her crib. Maddie is nowhere to be seen. Dread rips through his body like an icy wind.

Chimney snatches up the note. It takes him too long to read. The words seem to spin around on the page, and the pounding of his heart is so loud he can barely hear his own thoughts.

My love,

I’m so sorry. I had to leave. I couldn’t keep hurting you and our daughter by staying. You both deserve so much better than me, and I never deserved anything as good as either of you.

Please don’t try to follow me. I promise you’ll be better off without me. I’ll be safe, just somewhere else. And you can be happy.

Jee is with Anne. Tell her I’m sorry, and I’ll miss her every day. Tell her it’s for the best.

Love forever and always,

Maddie

The paper falls from his hand, and he has Athena’s number dialed before it hits the ground.

“I’m sorry, Chimney, but we can’t file a missing person’s case in this scenario unless there’s evidence of foul play,” Athena says after he breathlessly explains the note. Her voice is strained with exhaustion. With everything she’s been through in the past week, he feels terrible asking her for help. But his chest is twisted up so much he can’t breathe and his mind is twisted up so much he can’t think and he needs to do something.

“She could hurt herself, or…” The words stick in his mouth, coated with tar. Chimney swallows. “Or worse. Athena, I can’t lose her.”

Athena sighs deeply. As exhausted as Chimney feels, he’s sure Athena is in an even worse state after everything she’s been through in the past week. “Give me a minute,” She says.

He paces around the kitchen for what seems like hours, his thoughts slipping further and further down a spiral. Every time he pulls one back up, another falls even further. He’s just about to bolt out the door and start wandering the streets of LA screaming Maddie’s name when Athena’s voice comes back through the receiver. “Bobby’s going to come pick you up and take you to the airport. You call Buck and tell him to check the train station. I’ll have my people at the station keeping an eye out for any concerning calls with someone matching her description.”

A plan. They have a plan. And he has help. He’s not alone. Chimney takes a shaky breath, “Thank you so much.”

“Well, I know how you’re feeling right now and I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.” Athena replies.

“How is Harry doing?”

“He’s safe and home. That’s about all we can ask for.”

Chimney nods, even though he knows Athena can’t hear him. “He’ll be alright. He’s a tough kid.”

“And your Maddie is the toughest woman I know. You’ll bring her home, too.”

He thanks her again and hangs up, dialing Buck’s number as soon as the call ends. If he keeps moving forward, keeps steady with this plan, then maybe he’ll get through this. Or at least get through the next few hours.

If he stops to think, he knows he’ll drown.

“Maddie did what? ” Buck cries out.

“She left. I don’t know where she went,” Chimney reiterates, passing his hand over his eyes. “So, listen, I need you to—”

“Is she okay? Is Jee okay? When did this happen?” He hears Buck’s car keys jingling in the background, like he just picked them up.

“Buck, focus. Jee is fine, no idea about Maddie. That’s why we need to go find her. Can you head to the train station?”

“Well, what about the airport? Maybe she went back to Hershey to stay with our parents or an old friend. I could go there and—”

“Just listen for a second,” Chimney snaps, then immediately regrets it. This is Buck’s sister after all. He’s loved her even longer than Chimney has. He softens his voice. “Please. I’m scared too, but we have to work together. Me and Bobby are going to the airport, you head to the train station. Can you think of anywhere else she might go?”

“Uh, I don’t know." Buck sounds a little bit like a chastised puppy. But he stays on track this time. “I’ll call Josh on my way, see if he knows anything. My parents too, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Chimney says. His phone buzzes with a text from Bobby saying he’s outside of his apartment and he rushes out the door. “I gotta go. Let me know if you hear anything at all.”

“Yeah, of course, Chim. You too.” He pauses for a moment. “We’re gonna find her, right? We have to.”

Chimney sighs, already halfway down the stairwell. “I sure fuckin’ hope so, Buck.”

He jumps into Bobby’s car without a word, and they take off towards LAX. The tension in his jaw is starting to hurt, but he can’t relax. Any thoughts of sleep have vanished from his mind, although he knows that beneath the adrenaline the exhaustion is lying in wait.

Mrs. Lee responds to his text asking when Maddie dropped Jee-Yun off. About an hour ago. Poor thing looked dead on her feet. The two of you should let me watch this little angel more often like you used to!

If Mrs. Lee knew anything about Maddie’s plan, she would’ve called. As much as Chimney would love some encouraging words from her right now, he can’t bring himself to worry her until he has to. We’ll keep that in mind. Thanks so much!

He sends a silent prayer to who-the-hell-knows that they’re not too late. If Maddie’s caught a plane or a train, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to find her, let alone get her back.

“I know how much you love her, Chim,” Bobby says, his voice breaking through Chimney’s spiraling thoughts. “And I hope we find her as much as anyone. But if we can’t, it’s not your fault. Sometimes people just don’t want to be found.”

Chimney wishes he knew what to say to that. Wishes he could form a response without the threat of his voice cracking.

Bobby keeps driving and Chimney watches endless monotonous buildings blur past the window. He usually likes LA. People crack jokes about the traffic and the smog and the wannabe-celebrities. Hell, he does too. But he’s lived here for most of his life, through ups and downs, through terrible losses and his wildest dreams coming true. This city has hand-delivered him the greatest family he’s ever known.

In this moment, he’s never hated LA more.

“I can’t lose her, Bobby,” Chimney finally says. A tear spills down his cheek.

Bobby says nothing, just reaches over and places a hand on Chimney’s shoulder.

The rest of the drive goes by achingly slowly, in comfortable but heavy silence. They’ve almost reached the airport when Chimney’s phone buzzes with a text from Buck.

No sign of her at the train station. Can’t get a hold of our parents. Josh has no idea. Gonna help him call around to hospitals in the area.

The tightness in Chimney’s chest squeezes more with every word, until hospitals hits him like a semi-truck.

He can’t think about that now. He can’t. Maddie is okay. She has to be. And he’ll take her home, and get her the help she needs here, where he’s only ever a traffic-dependent number of minutes away, and he can see her every day and hold her hand and tell her how much he loves her until she finally believes it, even if he has to say it thousands of times a day for the rest of their lives.

The car hasn’t even rolled to a stop outside departures before Chimney is out the door. Bobby calls out after him something about parking but Chimney doesn’t catch it and, right now, he doesn’t really care.

When he gets inside the airport he immediately ambushes the poor, dead-eyed employee at the information desk, cutting the line of twenty protesting patrons. “When’s the next flight to Philadelphia taking off?”

A bewildered expression replacing his dead stare. He blinks at Chimney, then types something on his computer. “Uh. 30 minutes. But it’s booked.”

“Makes no difference to me. Just tell me the gate number and get me any ticket that’ll get me through security. Preferably a cheap one.”

“Sir, you can’t—”

“Listen, man. I promise you I have a good explanation. It’s a real tear-jerker of a story, too. But I really don’t have time to tell it, and it would be much easier to just sell me the ticket now and get me out of your hair.”

Five minutes later, he’s shelled out $400 for a flight to Montana that he’ll never step foot on and is schmoozing his way to the front of the security line. The words fall out of his mouth before he knows what he’s saying. My grandmother has less than a day to live, I just have to make my flight. My wife is in labor, I just have to make my flight. My kid suffered a traumatic brain injury and is finally able to play his first baseball game again, I just have to make my flight. Anything to get people to let him skip through the security line they’ve been waiting in for God knows how long. He would tell the truth, but it feels so mixed up and raw and intimate that lying comes much easier. Somehow he makes it to the front of the line and through security in less time than it usually takes him to find parking here.

And he takes off at a dead sprint through the terminal.

His heart breaks more with each step. He’s not going to make it. He has no idea if this is even the right flight. Or if she’s here at all. He’s going to lose her. Lose the best person and the best life he’s ever had. He should just let her go. It’s selfish to make her stay if it’s not what she wants.

He can’t possibly let her go. Not like this.

He runs past hundreds of people, thousands. But he knows, he knows , that none of them are Maddie. Something in him would stop him dead in his tracks. Would lead him right to her. In the blur of faces and bodies, he knows Maddie will stick out, clearer than HD.

And she does. Sitting at the otherwise empty gate for the flight to Philly with a carry-on suitcase at her feet, staring out the window at the place where the plane must have just been. Looking as beautiful as ever, but so empty and so tired that, despite the relief that floods his body, the pain in his chest remains, sharper than ever. He slows to a stop twenty feet away from the person he loves most in the world, save for the person they made together.

“Maddie.” He breathes her name, too quietly for her to hear. Disbelieving of his luck, he cautiously approaches her, like she’s a mirage that will disappear at the wrong angle.

When she finally turns and sees him, her eyes widen for a moment, her body tensing. And then her shoulders slump in defeat.

Chimney sits down in the chair next to her. What now?

“Hi,” He says simply.

He’s almost surprised when she responds. “Hi.”

“You had us worried there for a minute.” Chimney’s not sure if that’s the right thing to say. He’s not sure if there is a right thing to say.

Maddie takes a deep breath. Her eyes are puffy and red, and a tear rolls down either side of her face. “I couldn’t do it.” Chimney takes her hand in his own and nearly falls apart when she clings tightly to it. “I was trying to do the right thing. I was trying to set you free. Set you both free. But I couldn’t…” She shrugs helplessly. “I couldn’t leave.”

“Well I, for one, am damn grateful for that.” Chimney’s voice cracks halfway through the sentence. And then they’re both sobbing into each other’s shoulder in the middle of the bustling airport, and Chimney doesn’t know how it’s possible to feel so much joy and so much pain at the same time. Like at any moment his chest might burst open from the sheer force of it.

After several long minutes, Maddie’s breathing comes more evenly, and he pulls back to look her in the eye, wipes her tears with his thumb. “Let’s go home, Maddie. And in the morning, we can get you checked into that inpatient program that Dr. Bolsaro recommended. We’ll get you the help you need. Here. We need you here, and I think you need us too. It’s okay to need us.” Maddie stares at him through her tears, her expression still just as hollow. He knows she doesn’t believe him yet. But that doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling her. “We all want to help you. You’re worth every second. All of it. You’re worth everything.”

“I’m not,” She whispers. Chimney’s already fragmented heart shatters into even smaller pieces.

“I swear to you, you are. You don’t have to believe me. You just have to stay, and let us prove it to you.” He stands, and holds out his hand. He isn’t sure if she’s going to take it. But he hopes, and he hopes, and he tries to believe that the hope will be enough.

She holds his gaze. Then turns to the window, her eyes fixed on the spot on the tarmac where the plane took off to her wretched old life. The life she thinks she still deserves. The plane she didn’t get on anyway.

And then she turns back to Chimney. And she takes his hand.

#911 fox #9-1-1 #911fic #chimney han #maddie buckley #madney #I don't know how to tag anything whatever #I swear to god this has a happy ending!!! or as happy of an ending as it could possibly have #also i've never written a madney fic before and I really enjoyed it... might try it again soon we shall see #something less ouchie next time though :(#also this is gonna flop and I’ve made my peace with that

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softboyuris · 4 years ago

Text

Doctor’s Orders

Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 5.2k+

A/N: I did a thing. It became this thing because of @eideticmemory. I am in no way shape or form half the writer she is but I had to do this. Inspired by this anon.

Summary: Spencer losing his virginity. That’s it. That’s the plot

Warnings: sex, swearing

{masterlist}

Spencer Reid did not party. He did not go to bars or get drunk. He rarely had more than one drink when he did go out with his coworkers, or more, was forced to. Don’t get it wrong, he loved them. They were more like a family to him than work buddies but in his line of work, he rarely had a day off. So when he did, he would prefer to spend it his way- curled up on his leather sofa with a good book, or ten. And no one could change his mind.

Now Derek Morgan, Spencer’s best friend and one of his aforementioned coworkers- although some might say they’re more akin to brothers than either of those labels- he liked to party. He loved going out with his friends, doing shots and drunkenly destroying open mic night. And he always, without fail, dragged Spencer out with him.

What? He was concerned for his friend. His best friend. Spencer never talked about what happened while on the job but Derek knew it got to him. It got to them all something that came with the territory. And recently he had been extra stressed and tense and Derek knew just what he needed.

A night out on the town where, hopefully, he could help pretty boy get laid.

Spencer didn’t want this. He begged, literally begged Derek to let him stay in but ultimately lost the fight. Because in the end, Spencer did enjoy hanging out with him he just wasn’t always too happy about the location. Or getting stranded at whatever bar and/or club they stumbled into after Derek, without fail, went home with a girl. Sometimes two.

Trilly’s was a local bar, often frequented by cops meaning it wasn’t too heavily trafficked and even when it was a busy night, it’s numbers didn’t compare to the bar Spence knew Derek would drag him to.

Which is why when Spencer agreed to go out, “Just for an hour, tops,” his one condition was that they go there. While his best friend may enjoy hitting on an entire group of girls at once, Spencer much preferred to sit in a corner and observe.

Flirting was not his forte and he had little to no desire to make it one. Sure, he’d been on a few dates before. Kissed one or two girls in college but dating just wasn’t really his thing. Really, it wasn’t. It’s not like he didn’t have game or anything. That totally wasn’t the reason.

As bad as it was, Trilly’s very rarely saw females. Spencer knew the statistics, and with under thirty percent of law enforcement being female, the odds were in his favor. He could go out, have a drink with his friend and avoid any awkward confrontations when Derek would inevitably try to be his wingman. It would be a fun, easy night.

After almost a month of detective work, Y/N had finally caught the son of a bitch who had been ransacking local, small businesses over the past two months in Alexandria. She was exhausted. Twenty-seven days of non-stop work, late nights and early mornings that sometimes bled into each other. She hadn’t taken a single day off.

Many of the businesses the culprit hit had to shut down because they didn’t have the means to stay open. Citizens didn’t want to shop at a store that had been burglarized by a man in the wind, worried he’d come back for more than just a few valuables. So Y/N put all her effort into finding him with some sliver of hope that it could save the business that hadn’t gone under already.

John Willis was pulled over for his taillight being out and the cop that apprehended him noticed several of the missing items that had been reported laying in his backseat. Y/N wondered how, after evading law enforcement for two months, he was caught so easily.

She didn’t let it weigh on her mind for long though. Willis was locked up and she finally got a night off.

She wouldn’t call herself a party girl, but she was known to get a little mischievous at the local cop bar, Trilly’s, every now and then. And tonight, she planned on having some fun.

Y/N dragged her best friend and crime-fighting partner, Jasmine, out with her. Jasmine had reluctantly agreed, having just gone through a pretty rough break-up. Y/N reminded her that he was trash and she would find someone better. “Or at the very least a very hot cop to have rebound sex with.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes. “I will do no such thing.” But she agreed to come out anyway.

When Y/N got to Jasmine’s apartment to pick her up, Jas was already waiting outside, dressed in a low cut deep blue dress that hugged her curvy figure. “Damn girl, I’d take you home in that outfit.” Y/N quipped as Jasmine got into the car.

Jasmine looked her best friend, who wore a similar dress that was red, up and down with a smirk. “Right back at you, sexy.”

Trilly’s was unusually busy for a Wednesday night. When Y/N and Jasmine finally made it through the door, the place was pretty packed. The music was turned up louder than normal and a large group of people had made the middle of the room into a makeshift dance floor. Or grind floor would be more accurate, as that’s the only dance move these people evidently knew how to do.

They squeezed their way past sweaty bodies to the bar, hailing the attention of the bartender almost immediately. Y/N ordered them a round of shots.

“Starting the night off strong, are we?” Jasmine popped one eyebrow up as she leaned against the slightly sticky bar littered with peanut shells and drops of missed alcohol.

Y/N nodded. “Only way to do it!” She partially yelled over all the commotion around her. The bartender set down two shots in front of them. “To rebound sex.”

Jasmine laughed, a barely noticeable blush dotting her cheekbones. “Mmhmm, sure.” She raised her glass but Y/N stopped her before she could down the liquid.

“Nuh-uh,” She tutted. “Say it back or else it won’t work.” With reluctance, Jasmine just barely whispered the cheer back but it was enough to satiate Y/N. “Much better.” She chimed. They clinked their glasses together and downed them simultaneously, placing them upside down on the bar after.

Spencer was already uncomfortable. Derek and him had literally just stepped foot in the bar and he was already regretting his decision to go out tonight. It being a Wednesday, he never thought in a million years it’d be this busy.

People pushed past each other in front of him. A group of at least twenty people were grinding against each other in the middle of the room where they’d deemed it the dance floor for the night. The floor was sticky as was the booth and table the two men eventually found themselves seated in. Spencer grimaced, his phobia of germs eating at his mind.

“Breathe pretty boy.” Derek smiled, slapping Spencer’s arm across the table. Spencer inhaled slowly, looking around at all the people bustling around him. This was clearly not his scene.

“I didn’t expect it to be this crowded.” Spencer yelled over the noise.

Derek laughed, “Where’s the fun in an empty bar?” Spencer held back the glare that was fighting to make itself known. When he didn’t respond, Derek slapped his hands on the table. “I’m going to go get us drinks.”

Y/N scanned the crowd for Jasmine who had said twenty minutes ago that she was going to slip out to the bathroom.

After a few minutes of searching, she spotted her friend practically sitting in the lap of some stranger at a booth across the room. She laughed to herself, setting some cash down on the bar for their drinks before making her way through the crowd.

When she gets to the booth, Jasmine looks up at her. “Y/N, you found me.” Her words are a little slurred. Y/N forgot how much of a lightweight her friend is. “This is Derek. He’s an FBI agent.” She whispered the last bit, or thought she did but the men at the booth laughed.

Which is when she noticed the guy sitting opposite them. She made eye contact with him and smiled. She could feel her face get hot but she passed it off on the alcohol coursing through her veins.

He was cute. Y/N studied his face for a second, hoping he wouldn’t notice her blatantly checking him out. He looked pretty young. Obviously he was old enough to be an FBI agent but had she not known that, she would have guessed him to be fresh out of college.

His hair was longer but it suited him and he had really kind eyes that Y/N was drawn to. Even though he sitting, she could tell he was tall. His shoulders slumped slightly as if trying to fold in on himself, something she knew all too well being quite tall herself.

“Y/N.” She introduced herself, snapping out of her dazed state and returning her attention to Derek, who was the exact opposite of the guy she was just looking at. “Nice to meet you. Sorry, about my friend.” She joked.

Derek shook his head, a wide smile on his face. “Nothing to be sorry about.” Any other guy and she would have been pulling Jasmine away but there was something about Derek that was non-threatening. She somehow knew her friend was in good hands.

Literally, he had great hands. His muscled arm was wrapped tightly round Jasmine’s waist as she leaned into his side. Y/N would be lying if she didn’t admit to his obvious allure.

Y/N looked back over to the other guy, who she now noticed had been staring at her the whole time. Upon them locking eyes, he swallowed. “Is this seat taken?” She asks him, pointing to the empty spot beside him. He shakes his head, his hands falling nervously into his lap.

Spencer was mentally scolding himself for being at a loss of words, which he never was. He could rattle off facts about literally anything and talk for hours but right now, he was speechless.

Y/N slide into the booth beside him. “So, are you with the FBI too?” She asked, her hands cupping her glass. She figured he was but since he didn’t offer her a name, she figured she would try and make conversation.

He nodded. Derek cleared his throat and Spencer looked up at him, pleadingly. His friend just aggressively nodded in Y/N’s direction, a way of telling him to say something.

“I’m Spencer.” He squeaked out.

Y/N looked up from the table. “It’s nice to meet you Spencer.” She smiled. Spencer waited for the inevitable offering of her hand, getting prepared to explain how he doesn’t shake hands because the amount of germs that are passed in a handshake are staggeringly high.

His eyebrows pinched together when a few moments passed and her hands didn’t move from her glass. “You don’t shake hands?” He asked, slightly dumbfounded.

Y/N chuckled. “Did you want me to?” She asked, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. Spencer’s cheeks ran crimson and Y/N smiled at herself. “Not on the job, don’t feel the need to be so formal.” She summed up, leaning against the worn leather of the booth.

“Where do you work?” It feels like such a dumb question but it’s left his mouth before he can process it. You’re at a cop bar, Spencer, where the fuck do you think?

“Alexandria PD.” Y/N answers without thought, sipping at her drink. “Been there for three years now.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest.” Jasmine waves her hand at her best friend, scoffing. She turns to Derek, pressing her pointer finger into his chest to accentuate her words. “She's the lead detective. Youngest to ever be promoted.”

Spencer’s eyes don’t leave Y/N while Jasmine talks. Y/N looks at her friend incredulously but there’s a small smile on her face and a blush is creeping up her neck. “I don’t like bragging.” She says to Jasmine, a small laugh leaving her lips.

Spencer has never been mesmerized before but he’s completely lost in Y/N’s laugh that he barely hears Jasmine continue talking.

“Pfft, it’s a big deal, Y/N. It’s not every day that a twenty-five year old gets promoted to that position.” Jasmine continues.

“Sounds like congratulations are in order.” Derek smiles, his eyes never leaving Jasmine. Y/N shakes her head. Jasmine is definitely not going home in the same car she came in.

“Thank you, but it’s not a new promotion.” She takes another sip of her beer, welcoming any distraction at this point. She hates it when she’s the center of attention.

“She never wants to celebrate her successes.” Jasmine tuts, rolling her eyes. She finally breaks eye contact with Derek to look at Spencer. “You know, she was top of her class at UCLA and has three masters. Three. I barely got through my one.” Jasmine hiccups at the end, nodding.

Derek looks over at Spencer and Y/N. “Looks like pretty boys gonna have a run for his money.”

Y/N looks over at Spencer, quirking an eyebrow. “Oh.”

Spencer’s cheeks darken but he doesn’t offer further explanation. Y/N looks to Derek for answers instead. “Three PhD’s.” He says, raising three of his fingers up in conjunction with his words.

Y/N nearly chokes on her beer. “Three?” Getting her master’s was hard enough she couldn’t fathom doing it again for her doctorates.

“He goes by doctor.” Derek winks at her.

“Morgan.” Spencer warns, looking up at him with stern eyes. Derek throws his hands up in surrender. “You don’t have to call me doctor.” He says to Y/N, running a hand through his hair. “He just likes messing me.”

Y/N smirks. It’s small and nearly imperceptible but Spencer notices and it makes his breathing pick up. “Who said I didn’t want to, Doc?” Spencer swallows, pressing his hands together to distract himself.

The conversation moves on but after a while, Jasmine and Derek are in their own little world, leaving Spencer and Y/N to talk.

She learns that he was the youngest person ever recruited for the FBI, a fact which he didn’t want to own up to. Similar to Y/N, he didn’t like the spotlight on him. Unlike Y/N, he had a reason to have the spotlight on him, which she told him after finding out he’s a literal genius.

“You can’t have an IQ that high and expect people to not put you at the center of their attention.” Spencer blushed at her words.

“I don’t mind your attention.” He replies, making Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “But normally, people are more annoyed by it than they are fascinated by it.”

Y/N tucks a pieces of hair behind her ear. “Well they’re clearly missing out.”

They talk for what feels like hours. Every new piece of information Y/N gets, she savors. There’s something about Spencer that makes her want to know everything about him. And she damn near does.

He doesn’t just work for the FBI, he works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, which is like the best of the best. He has an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute, a skill which Y/N is borderline envious of, and he’s from Las Vegas. Which is where his mom lives, in a clinical facility because she has schizophrenia.

“I’m so sorry, that must be really hard on you.” Y/N says, placing her hand on Spencer’s arm soothingly. Her eyes are soft like her hand which he notices when he accidentally brushes it. She really means it.

Spencer learns that Y/N came to Virginia after university because her dad passed away and she was the only person in her family close to him. He left everything to her which also meant she had to go through all his belongings.

A tenant in his apartment building found him dead. The initial report said he had died of natural causes but after his autopsy they found signs of foul play. As it turns out, he was murdered. It’s what propelled Y/N to become a cop in the first place. “I set up base here and never looked back.”

He also learned that she’s probably the sweetest and funniest person he’s ever met, and he’s friends with Penelope and JJ. She’s smart, she seems to pick up on all his little quirks and respects them. And she’s beautiful, which he knew from the instant he saw her but is even more pronounced now that he’s getting to know her.

The two had been so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t notice that their friends were no longer sitting across from them. With a quick glance behind them, Y/N saw Jasmine slip out the front door, holding Derek’s hand and laughing flirtatiously.

Spencer groans next to her. “He was my ride home.”

“Did you really think the night was going to end any differently for those two?” Y/N asks, settling back into the seat.

“No.” Spencer relents. Without thinking, he reaches across Y/N and takes her drink, taking a few sips before realizing what he’s done. “Sorry.” He says, placing the cup down.

Y/N moves a fraction of an inch closer to him. “I don’t mind.” Her hand lightly brushes his thigh. “But, as you probably already know, we practically just kissed.”

Spencer’s breath hitches in his throat as Y/N’s hand comes to rest fully on his thigh, her fingertips lightly tracing circles on his inner thigh. He tries to focus on anything else but he can practically feel the blood rushing to his dick.

Y/N notices the change in his demeanor, leaning in closer so she can whisper. “I’ll stop if you want me to.” Y/N doesn’t know what’s come over her. Sure, she’s hooked up with guys she just met at the bar before but she’s never been this straightforward with someone. Not right off the bat, and definitely not with this much ease.

The tension between them has been palpable ever since she sat down an hour ago and now, with their friends gone, there was nothing stopping her from commenting on it.

Spencer shook his head at her words, mumbling something Y/N didn’t quite pick up on. “What was that, doc?” She emphasized the last word, her hand slowly moving up his thigh.

He started to bounce his right leg nervously. Y/N smirked. “I make you nervous?” He nodded slowly. Y/N stopped what she was doing, removing her hand and putting some space in between them. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She was suddenly overcome with embarrassment, her actions finally seeping into the logical side of her brain.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” Spencer nearly growled. Now it was Y/N’s turns to blush as she nervously looked over at him. There was a hunger in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. She unconsciously squeezed her legs together.

He leans closer to her until his lips are grazing her ear. “The bathroom’s empty, we could sneak away, no one would even notice.”

Y/N swallows at the implication. He’s been watching, waiting for the right moment to initiate whatever the fuck this was. Which means he knew it would get to this at some point.

Without a second thought, Y/N grabs his hand, hauling him out of the booth and making a beeline for the bathroom.

Just as Spencer had told her, the bathroom was empty. That, of course, didn’t stop her from checking all the stalls to make for certain that they were alone. Trust me, no one wanted to hear what was about to happen.

Spencer was still standing by the door, his once cocky demeanor now dwindling into the awkward nervousness that Y/N had grown to love about him.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She says softly, grabbing both his hands. They just met, she doesn’t know what he has or hasn’t done before and while Y/N might have some experience with bathroom sex, she’s found that not all people do. In fact, it’s very rare for her to find someone who has.

Spencer lets go of her hands and for a split second she thinks he’s going to turn around and walk out but then his lips are on hers and she’s trying to get her brain to catch up because she’s missing it.

In a surge of confidence, Spencer cups Y/N’s face, smashing his lips against hers. After a moment, she kisses back, her hands coming up to run through his hair.

The moans that fall from her lips at the contact has him hard. He moves them so she’s the one pressed against the door, his hands coming down to grab her hips and pull her against him.

His tongue asks for entry and she gladly concedes. In a swift motion, she’s wrapped her legs around his waist, his hands supporting her by holding her thighs.

Y/N’s dress has been effectively hiked up from the change in position and while she respects his respect for her, she wants his hands on her. She reaches down to move them up until they’re resting on her bum. With a satisfied grin she pulls away from his lips.

He looks at her, out of breath and red in the face. “You’re not wearing underwear.” He breaths out.

She laughs, curling her finger around the hair at the back of his neck. “Actually, I was. Seemed to have lost them.” She shrugs innocently.

His eyes widen as he realizes what she’s saying. Something in her knew he would get it. He chastely kisses her cheek, his lips hovering over her ear. “You took them off, didn’t you? When you went to the restroom twenty-seven minutes ago.”

Y/N bites her lip, partially to fight back the laugh that wanted to come out knowing Spencer had counted the minutes, and nods. “Naughty, naughty girl.” He whispers, biting her ear. She gasps at the action, not expecting it, which propels him to grind against her.

“You gonna do something about it, doc?” She giggles, leaning forward to place a kiss on his collarbone.

Spencer moves them over to the sinks and sets her down on the counter, standing between her legs as he kisses her neck. Y/N starts to undo the buttons of his shirt just enough to expose his chest, which she runs her fingernails down, leaving red tracks in their wake.

“Fuck.” He groans, his forehead pressing into her chest. She lifts his head up to kiss him, fingers combing through his hair again, an action she’s coming to thoroughly enjoy.

“Do you have a condom?” Y/N asks as she kisses down his neck, her hands following in motion until they hit the top of his jeans.

Something about the question jars Spencer. Like his thoughts finally register exactly what he’s doing and the nerves slowly creep back into his stomach. He nods hastily, reaching into his back pocket where his wallet is. He sets it down beside Y/N on the counter.

Y/N unbuttons his pants and pulls the zipper down, tantalizingly slow, being careful to avoid touching his erection. Still attacking his neck with kisses, she pushes both his jeans and boxers down and they land bunched around his ankles.

She can’t help but look. I mean, really, it’s human nature to be curious.

His whole body is flushed red, or marked red by her fingernails and mouth, and that doesn’t exclude what he’s packing. And boy, is he packing. Y/N swallows at the sight.

Spencer avoids eye contact now that he’s fully exposed but Y/N is gentle in bringing his eyes to hers. She kisses him. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Bathroom sex is just like normal, bed sex.” She laughs a little at her phrasing.

Spencer just nods nervously, reaching next to her to pick up the condom. He rips the package open and, with slightly shaking hands, focuses on putting it on.

After a few moments of fumbling hands, ragged breaths and a deep red blush that’s been slowly creeping up his neck, a smile slides across Y/N’s face. She places her hands over his and he looks up at her with worry in his eyes. “This is your first time doing this, huh?”

He swallows nervously, a small nod of his head indicating that her assumption was correct. “Like, ever?” He nods again. She responds by bringing his lips to hers. Y/N kisses him gently, a lot more calm and composed than they had been walking into this bathroom.

There’s still a nervousness about him but Y/N feels him relax into the kiss, slowly gaining back some of the confidence he had a minute ago. His tongue swipes over her bottom lip, her jaw dropping to allow him to search her mouth with his tongue as if he’s done this a hundred times before.

Had she not asked, she never would have guessed that he was a virgin. Aside from the obvious nerves, which she had passed off as a combination of alcohol and public sex, there was nothing about the way he held himself that made her second guess it.

His blush has completely taken over his face and it makes Y/N’s heart beat faster, if that is even possible because it was already running at a million beats per second. The taste of him overwhelms her senses which is why she lets out a small whine when he pulls away.

Spencer looks into Y/N’s eyes, his own glazed over with lust. “It’s okay.” She whispers, dragging her hand down his chest until it lands right above his sex. “I’ll teach you.”

He gulps, audibly gulps, as she wraps her hand around his cock. His forehead falls to her shoulder briefly as a barely audible “fuck” falls out of his mouth.

Y/N shuts her eyes and tries to contain the excitement boiling inside of her.

She slips the condom on with ease. Spencer watches her do it before looking up at her. Now she can see just how nervous he is. His hands are slightly fidgeting at his sides so she grabs them, placing them on her hips.

She scoots forward enough for access while still being supported by the granite beneath her. Spencer’s hold on her hips tightens.

Y/N hooks her hands behind his neck, giving him a nod of approval. “Whenever you’re ready, baby.” She whispers, looking in his eyes. Her entire demeanor has changed. She’s settled down so that he can enjoy this as much as possible and her eyes reflect that kindness.

Spencer removes one of his hands from her hips to help guide himself. He fumbles a little but after a few misses, his tip gently pushes into her. Y/N inhales sharply at the contact.

“Is this okay?” Spencer asks hesitantly, searching Y/N’s eyes for any sign of regret. She nods her head enthusiastically, a whimper falling from her lips.

“Yes, please, Spence, fuck me.”

He obliges, inching into her slowly until he’s buried to the hilt. “You okay?” He asks again, freezing his motions.

Y/N, overcome with pleasure, takes a minute to reply. “Please keep going.”

He finds a steady rhythm. It takes him a bit of time but he gets there eventually, fueled on by the soft moans that fall sporadically from Y/N’s lips. His thrusts are slow at first, picking up in speed as he grows more confident.

Spencer, being the person he is, knows everything there is to know about sex. But knowing about it and actually doing it are two very different things and he’s coming to that realization very fast.

Words cannot describe how good this feels. The way her walls clench around his cock with every thrust. The feeling of her hands on his back, fingers pressing little crescents into his skin hard enough to leave a bruise. And the noises she makes when he hits that perfect spot, encouraging him to continue.

Pure bliss is what it is. If this is what heaven’s like, Spencer Reid would gladly die in Y/N’s arms right now.

Y/N hooks her ankles around his waist, pulling him closer. She gasps out a moan at the new angle, her head falling back. Spencer somehow manages to pull her hips even closer. He thrusts faster but at a steady pace that has Y/N’s legs shaking.

“Spencer.” She moans when his lips attach onto her neck and start sucking the spot just above her collarbone. She’s close, which honestly shocks her. She also knows Spencer’s not going to last much longer, she doesn’t expect him to at least.

“Shit.” He mumbles against her neck.

“You gonna come?” Y/N asks between gasps of breath, one of her hands moving down to rub circles on her clit.

“Mmhmm.” Spencer moans.

“Then come baby,” She encourages, getting closer to her own release now that her fingers are working are her core, electricity jolting her body.

He tuts, a moan breaking the action. Y/N can tell he’s holding back. Spencer lifts his head so he’s looking at her and it nearly sends him over the edge, that look of pleasure plastered on her face. “Wanna wait, for, fuck- for you.” He manages out between moans.

“I’m right behind you baby, just let go.” As if under her complete control, Spencer releases and within a second is tumbling over that edge, stilling inside her. His orgasm knocks the breath out of him.

He’s jerked off before, had countless orgasms in the privacy of his own bed but nothing like this. Never like this. His head falls onto Y/N’s shoulder, slick with sweat.

The feeling of Spencer unloading inside her has Y/N coming, Spencer’s name leaving her lips in broken moans as she wraps her arms around him.

Spencer remains motionless for a minute, trying to catch his breath. Y/N can’t fathom trying to move right now, so she welcomes the stillness, her hands rubbing Spencer’s back.

After a moment, he stands up and helps clean Y/N up. She smiles the whole time at the gesture. After pulling his clothes back on, Spencer stands in front of Y/N.

“That was…” Spencer breathed out, his hands landing on Y/N’s thighs.

“Unexpected.” She finished his thought. “Amazing. Best you’ve ever had?” She laughs, her hands propped on his shoulders.

“I have nothing to compare it to but I’ll get back to you on that.” Y/N laughed.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She smiles. He leans in and kisses her softly.

“It was definitely something.” Spencer says as he helps Y/N down from the counter, balancing her when she stumbles slightly under her weight.

Spencer’s arm wraps around her waist. “It definitely was.”

“Did you really think the night was going to end any differently?” He asks, repeating the words she had said to him right before everything changed.

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “Nope. It was just what the doctor ordered.”

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer x reader #this is not my best i dont think #but fuck it #hope you enjoyed #first time #reid x reader #mgg #Matthew Gray Gubler

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years ago

Text

Stray Kids Reaction: S/o Falls Back Into Old Habits

A/n: so this is a more serious request! if any of my readers feel like they need to talk to someone (whether about this or not) my messages are always open to anyone and everyone. Also this did get a little personal for me, (Jisung’s is based on my personal experience)

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING)Mentions of eating disorders, cursing

Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoe @poeticallyspaghetti @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @yangomangos

Bangchan:

You had a history of not making the healthiest choices when it came to weight loss. It was a secret you kept to yourself. A secret you thought you wouldn’t have to deal with again. But, life sometimes throws stuff at you, and you can't help but fall back into old habits.

You knew Chan adored you. That didn’t mean hate comments got any easier to read. It was almost impossible to avoid them. Chan was always in the public eye, so it wasn’t long before your relationship was outed. At first, it was fine. Most of the Stray Kids fans accepted you; they wanted Chan happy.

Eventually, after all the commotion died down, anti-fans started to surface. They had found old pictures of you from high school and posted them with cruel comments. It was difficult with Chan away from home so much. You felt like you were alone, with no one to help guide you away from the dark places the comments were leading you towards.

The old pictures resurfacing reminded you of how you used to look when you were younger. It was easy to see the change in your body weight. You had started working through lunch. It was a simple excuse. It wasn’t a lie that your workload had doubled over the past week, though Chan was upset you skipped a meal, he understood.

But your old mentality started to creep back in. The next meal to go was breakfast. Chan was usually gone before you got up so he didn’t notice. What he did notice was you slowly losing your appetite at dinner. At first, he thought you were just a little sick. He made sure to stock up on medicine next time he picked up groceries. However, in your mind, you still weren’t losing the weight you wanted fast enough. Knowing Chan would freak if you stopped eating dinner you decided to hide a bottle of diet pills behind a couple shoeboxes at the top of your closet.

“Hey, Y/n? You wanna order a pizza?” Chan called from your bedroom. A pizza sounded divine. The sound of your stomach rumbling made you feel guilty. There was no way you would ruin this streak just for a pizza.

“Umm...you can! I ate a little earlier.” You called back. There was a moment of silence. You figured he was just picking up some dirty laundry or something.

“Baby, when did you eat? You didn’t have lunch with me and-”

Chan’s voice stopped all of a sudden. “I didn’t what?” You asked flipping through your phone. You frowned yet again coming across some hate comments. Sighing you tossed your phone onto the other side of the couch. “Babe?” You called still not hearing back from your boyfriend. Looking up you found Chan standing in the hallway holding a familiar white bottle in his hands.

“What the hell is this?”

Chan was angry. He was more than angry. He was pissed. He looked hurt when he tossed the bottle to you. “They are just diet pills, Chan.” His teeth dragged across his lip and his hands came to rest on his hips.

“No. Only half the bottle is left! Y/n this is dangerous. I know you’ve been skipping meals!” You flinched as Chan raised his voice. He noticed and came over to you. His hands wrapped around yours, shaking a little bit. “Y/n....I’m scared for you....I’ve been scared for you. You won’t talk to me. I know about the hate and the meals, but this? Baby. You’ve gotta talk to me.”

You looked at your boyfriend crouched in front of you, holding back tears. “Chan...it was just hard not to go back to bad habits. I’m so sorry.” Tears fell from his eyes hearing you speak. He dropped his head into your lap, still holding your hands tightly. He looked up, eyes puffy and red. His lips pressed against the back of my hand.

“I’m with you, yeah? I love you. I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

Minho:

Being a model was one of the best jobs you had ever had. It wasn’t as easy as everyone thought. You had great expectations put on you. At any given moment your agency could call you and say that you needed to drop fifteen pounds and chop off half your hair and you would have to do it to keep your contract.

Minho was used to your crazy weight-loss diets and coming home to you running on the treadmill with six coats on. He trusted you to be safe with whatever you were doing. He always checked in on you, even when he was away on tour.

Little texts making sure you were alright. Facetimes before he went to sleep. But, it was better having Mino home with you. Thankfully he would be home for the next six months.

The blare of your ringtone woke you up from a deep sleep. Minho was still sound asleep next to you and two of the cats were snuggled up at the foot of the bed. Seeing the agency as the caller id, you picked it up. They gave you the requirements for the job as well as the deadline. “Next week!” You exclaimed trying to keep Minho from waking up.

After a few more exchanged words you hung up the phone and lay in bed. “Twenty pounds?” You whispered to yourself. There was absolutely no way you could do this in time without not being healthy. But, the pay day was huge. There was no way you could pass up this gig if you wanted to make rent this month. The only problem would be Minho. He would totally scream at you if he found out you weren’t being healthy losing the weight.

Hell, the weight they wanted you to be wasn’t exactly healthy either. Your boyfriend stirred next to you, wrapping an arm around your middle. The next week you did everything possible to lose the weight. You skipped meals and you practically lived at the gym.

“Babe, have you eaten yet?” Minho said over the phone. He spoke to you on speakerphone as you ran with a hoodie on the treadmill in your apartment. You were three days away from your deadline with still five pounds left to lose.

“Yeah,” You said out of breath. Lie. “I ate a big salad a couple hours ago.” Another lie. You hadn’t eaten anything in the last seventy-four hours. He sighed over the phone. “What’s wrong, Minho?”

“Y/n we ran out of lettuce like two days ago, babe.”

Letting out a nervous laugh, you turned off the treadmill. “Minho.... I-uh...I ordered one-” You heard the line click. He hung up. “Oh fuck.” You said head in your hands. You shed the jacket and raced to your closet. You grabbed one of Minho’s big sweaters and threw it over your head. About ten minutes later the front door opened, Minho storming in throwing his stuff on the counter. “Hey! Did management let you off early-”

Without a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the apartment. The next thing you knew you were walking up the stairs of your agency. The two of you blew past your boss’s secretary. “What the fuck, man!?” Minho screamed bursting into my boss’s office. “Do realize you are driving my girlfriend slowly off a cliff? She could kill herself just trying to meet your expectations! LITERALLY.”

Your boss was completely shocked. He was at a loss for words. “This is not on Y/n. This is on you for making her feel like she ever had to feel like she had to use such drastic measure simply to please your patriarchal sexist ass.” You felt like crying seeing Minho defend you. It was true. It was your choice to skip meals, but mostly out of fear of the termination of your contract.

“Sir-”

“No. I don’t think you know who I am. One word from me to the press could ruin you in this industry for the rest of your life.” Your boss stayed silent. Clearly fearing for his reputation. “Now, you are going to let Y/n end her contract, with full compensation, on the grounds of employee abuse.” Minho narrowed his eyes, completely furious. “Got it?”

He nodded and Minho took your hand in his and led you out of the office. “Thank you, Min.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder.

“You’ve got to tell me, babe. I’m not gonna stand by while you are forcing yourself through this.”

Changbin:

Changbin wasn’t the most observant man on the planet. But, it was very hard to slip anything past him when it came to you. His job was demanding and took up far more of his time than either of you would like, but the man was clingy even from a distance.

You just dropped him off at the airport not four hours ago and he was already facetiming you. With Changbin gone, your apartment felt empty. The days seemed to blur together. Days flooded into nights and nights blended into early mornings. You were sad and missed him a lot. So you did the best thing you could think of to distract yourself was throw yourself into your work.

The tour was nowhere near its end and you were bringing more and more work home. You got into the bad habit of skipping meals and you barely ate anything for dinner, choosing instead to work. Most nights you fell asleep at your desk, having not eaten anything all day.

Changbin would call at all hours of the night, so caught up in tour life he had forgotten that it was three am where you were. You didn’t mind, however, the calls always ended with you missing him even more. If things were really bad you would go down to the bakery and eat an entire cake by yourself only to refuse food for the rest of the week.

“I’m so lonely here without you,” You said to the glow of your laptop screen. Changbin’s face filled the screen. He was barefaced and had a hoodie covering his messy hair. Seeing your boyfriend even just through a facetime call was a godsend. “It’s been really hard keeping it together. When are you coming home?”

He sighed. Clearly, he wasn’t handling the distance well either. “Four days.” Your head dropped into your hands. Four days. You could handle four more days. The question was could your body handle four more days? “Sweetie, you don’t look too good. Are you sure you are taking care of yourself?” Changbin looked seriously worried.

The internal struggle of whether to tell him or not was evident.

“Y/n, you can tell me anything. I’m worried about you.”

Your fingers raked through your hair. Changbin let out an anxious sigh. He knew silence from you was a bad sign. “I haven’t exactly been eating well lately.” His face grew somber.

“How not exactly?”

“Like....at all.”

“Y/n!” Changbin exclaimed. You were sure that he had woken up whatever boy he was sharing a room with. He broke seeing the shame on your face. How he had not noticed sooner was shameful to him. Your face was starting to sink in and dark circles lay under your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bring up past problems I had and worry you with them. They are mine to deal with.”

Changbin shook his head. “I want to share your problems, sweetie. Your problems are mine and I’m glad to take them.” He paused simply looking at you with care. “Do you want me to come home? I’ll be on the first flight out?”

“I can’t make you do that. The boys and STAY need you.”

“You need me more right now.”

Hyunjin:

Your mother was lapping you. She was getting married twice. You weren’t even married once! It didn’t help at all that your mother was one of the most judgemental living on the planet. All her friends were a close second. She had been hounding you for years to get a boyfriend. She was always nagging on you to settle down and give her grandchildren.

Hyunjin coming into your life was the best thing that had ever happened to you. He made you feel fully yourself and even helped you out of some really bad habits that your mother had gotten you into. Hyunjin slowly helped you rebuild your self-esteem and you loved him more every day for it.

“Y/n, last time I saw you it looked like you had been putting on quite a bit of weight. I’ve already sent you the dress I want you wearing and you need to fit in it by the wedding. Am I clear?” The shrill voice of your mother filled the room. Why did you put her on speakerphone again? You looked at the lilac colored dress you were holding in the mirror. “Y/n?”

“Yes, mother. I understand.” There was no way you were fitting into this. She sent it to you this morning and the wedding was nine days away. It wasn’t surprising she pulled something like this. She always had impossible standards to hold you too. Having enough of your mother, you hung up the phone.

With a sigh, you grabbed the dress and tried to put it on. It was by far the most unflattering garment you had ever worn. You couldn’t close the zipper and it emphasized all the wrong places on your body. You could barely breathe in the tight fabric. Wiping stressed tears from your face, you shedded the frock. The choice of never giving down your mother's complaints or simply wearing a different dress were pounding against your skull.

If only Hyunjin wasn’t still on a dating ban. Then you could tell your mother how happy you were with him and she would stop hounding about your weight and appearance. But, that wasn’t the case. Only eight more months. Eight more months and you could shout about Hyunjin from the rooftops without a care. Until then, you had to lose a lot of weight as soon as possible.

As much as it hurt you to go behind Hyunjin’s back, you returned to your old habits, skipping most of your meals. It was easy to hide at first. Hyunjin would come home late from practice, so he didn’t find it unusual for you to have ‘eaten’ before him.

However, what wasn’t normal, was you getting dizzy spells. But you were so close to fitting in that dress you couldn't stop. Hyunjin was lounging on the couch, flipping through random channels. The edge of your vision started to blur out, making you clutch the counter for balance. Taking some deep breaths you focused on centering yourself. “Baby, you okay?” Hyunjin said, his voice laced with concern. He was already making his way over to you, hand finding the small of your back.

You pushed away from the counter to respond to your boyfriend, but your knees buckled under you. Hyunjin caught you, pulling you into his chest. “Oh shit- Y/n, baby. Look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?” Hyunjin held up three long fingers that looked more like five or six. You groaned, leaning into him.

Hyunjin, slightly panicking, pulled you over to the couch and laid you down. You watched him pick up his phone ready to dial emergency services. “Jinnie! No! Don’t. Really, I’m fine. It was just a dizzy spell.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“You haven't had a dizzy spell since-” His words caught in his throat and he turned to you in shock. “Y/n...when was the last time you ate.” Your hands covered your face, rubbing your temples.

“I had a ramen cup. Don’t worry.”

Hyunjin involuntarily rolled his eyes letting out a frustrated huff. “I didn’t say what. I said ‘when’. ‘When’, Y/n!” He sighed seeing you struggle to think back on the past few days.

“I think....like two and a half days ago?” Hyunjin sighed, picking up his phone again. He walked into another room and returned about ten minutes later. You watched him walk to the kitchen and grab a Gatorade from the fridge. He placed it in front of you just as the doorbell rang. He ran a hand through his blonde hair as he took a huge bag from a man at the door.

“Eat. Drink.” He said placing the bag of takeout in front of you. He unwrapped the food and twisted the cap off the drink, placing it in your hand and lap. He had a worried look on his face as he watched you begin to eat. “I called your mom.”

You immediately started choking on the food, giving Hyunjin yet another panic attack. “You WHAT?”

“I told her about us. I know the wedding and all her expectation is what is causing you stress. I told her to add me to the guest list and that you’re showing up in whatever you want to wear and that she better not say one word about it or else she’ll hear some choice words from me.”

Your eyes softened and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He nuzzled his face in your hair letting out a staggered sigh. “Anytime you feel like that, you’ve got to come tell me. I hurt when you hurt. I hurt even more when you try to keep me from helping you.”

Jisung:

Your stomach growled. In the past three days, you had eaten nothing but a couple crackers and a few pieces of cheese. College had been really rough on you lately. Classes were tough and you had resorted to stress eating while Jisung was away and working. It was even worse when he went off on tour.

Without him around your self-esteem was at an all time low. In your mind, it was only a matter of time before Jisung came back with a girl who was much prettier, much skinnier, and just....better...than you. It wasn’t easy to tell Jisung this. You had never really been great at talking about your feelings.

The sound of your cell phone buzzed against the kitchen counter. It was almost midnight so only one person could be texting you. Your hands swiped through the notifications until you could read the message. Jisung.

Hey bb! <3 Gonna be home late. So sorry :( don't wait up for me

You sighed and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. Your boyfriend was right, as much as you hated to admit it. There was no point in waiting up for him. The edge of your vision started to blur out so you shook your head and blinked a few times. “A hot shower would probably do me some good.” You said to the empty apartment.

Tossing your clothes in the hamper, you walked in your underwear into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Suddenly you felt dizzy, heat flooding the small room, fogging up the mirror. Your head started to spin. The orientation of the room seemed to flip upside down. You grabbed at anything knowing you were going to fall any second. The shower curtain came down with you, your head banging against the shower wall and then against the bathtub.

Black clouded your vision as hot water pelted down on you from the showerhead.

Jisung turned the lock of your shared apartment at about two in the morning. The first thing he noticed was the lights in the kitchen and bedroom were still on. He tossed his bag on the counter and set his phone down beside it. “Baby? You still up?” He called into the apartment. “Y/n?” He asked hearing the shower running.

He gently wrapped his knuckles on the door. After a few minutes of not hearing a reply, he started to get a little worried. “Y/n? Babe.” Slowly he pushed open the door and peeked his head into the bathroom. His eyes widened seeing you passed out shower curtain falling on top of you. “OH SHIT!”

Jisung burst into the bathroom and threw the shower curtain away from your unconscious body. He shut off the water and cradled your head away from the shower wall. As gently as he could he picked you up and set you on the bed the both of you shared. “Fuck. My phone. Where’s my phone?” Jisung scrambled, running out of the bedroom. He was frantic.

“911. What is your emergency?” The calm voice of the operator spoke to him.

“My girlfriend. She uh--....fuck. She fell in the shower. I don’t know. I just came home. I think she hit her head.” Jisung ran a stressed hand through his hair, his feet carrying him back to the bedroom. He nodded at the operator's instructions and kept them on the phone as he grabbed one of his shirts from your closet to cover you up.

The paramedics arrived and loaded you up in an ambulance. Your heavy eyes opened slowly and you looked around the back of the emergency vehicle. It hurt to turn your head, which was still making you feel dizzy. Jisung sat beside you, holding your hand tightly, head down, and tears falling down his cheeks. “Jisung...” You croaked out.

His head shot up and he didn’t even bother trying to hide his tears. “Baby! Oh, thank god! Y/n you scared me half to death! What the hell happened?” He held your hand tightly, kissing along your knuckles.

“I’m so sorry, Ji....I only meant to skip a couple meals. I thought...I thought I had it under control.” You continued to ramble trying to make sure the words were coming out the way you wanted. Jisung looked heartbroken next to you.

“Y/n....you can’t...fuck...I love you so much. You’ve gotta tell me this stuff, okay?” He said choking up. You had never seen him so upset, so broken. “I can’t lose you. You’re perfect to me always.” You nodded, tears falling down your own cheeks.

“I’m so sorry-...I’m so sorry. I should have told you...”

Felix:

After being a trainee since you were fourteen, you had picked up an unhealthy mindset about your body image. The weekly weigh-ins your company put you through always had you watching your weight down to the ounce. There had been several incidents regarding your health and some unhealthy weight choices, thankfully they hadn’t been leaked to the press and your company covered it up. Felix had been your friend since you debuted and you had been dating for almost a year and a half. The two of you kept it a secret since both of you were still under a dating ban. Felix was always there for you when you needed him. Even if that meant him coming to find you in a broom closet because you were having a rough time and needed a hug.

Comeback season was always a rough time for the both of you. His group was busy, your group was busy. There was hardly any time to see each other. Promotions were even worse, especially for you. You felt like you had to constantly watch what you were eating since there were cameras all around you. You limited you food intake to one small meal a day, choosing to drink lots of weight loss shakes and water instead. Your secret diet plan had been working for years. You hadn’t had an incident since debut.

Your stomach growled as you looked in the mirror. “Y/n, did you eat?” Your leader asked brushing extra blush across her cheeks. You shook your head, knowing your voice would waver if you tried to lie.

“I’ll get something after the performance.”

The sound of other performances were playing on the music shows backstage TV. The skirt you were wearing was squeezing your stomach the fabric unbearably tight. “Girls, you’re up next! Stray Kids is after you. Backstage in two.” A stagehand said popping into the room then quickly exited. The members of your group started filing out of the room, heading backstage.

Stray Kids were waiting backstage already. You waved at Felix in the dark as you all came to stand next to them. You felt yourself get hot all of sudden and the room was beginning to tilt. The heels you were wearing made it a little more difficult for you to catch your balance.

You felt a hand on your back, steadying you. Felix appeared behind you, a concerned expression on his handsome face. “You okay, darling?” You nodded and brushed a bead of sweat from your forehead.

“Yeah. Just got a little dizzy for a second.”

Felix still looked concerned but gave you a quick kiss on the cheek after making sure no one was looking. “I’ll see you after your performance, darling.” He whispered in your ear before sending you onstage. Your group got in position and started performing your new song. Your head was spinning and you felt like you were going to pass out under the white hot stage lights.

The lyrics to your part of the song came out breathy as you danced in the center. It was evident you weren’t giving your one hundred percent, but you smiled through the pain you were feeling. You let your face fall as you transitioned to the back. If you could just hold on until the song was over.

In the middle of the dance break, your body couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you crumpled onto the floor, your body had been running on zero fuel for too long and gave out. The gasps of the audience stopped the performance and your group members froze in place. You felt someone run next to you and turn you over. You dazed eyes looked up to see Felix, fear plastered all over his face.

“We need to get her to the hospital.” Your leader said ushering the two of you off stage. Felix carried you in his arms until you were resting on the hospital bed, still in your stage clothes. Felix and your leader sat in the room with you while the doctors ran several tests. They hooked an IV up to your arm and waited for the doctor to return.

“So, who are you again?” The doctor asked pointing to Felix and your leader. She introduced herself, but before she could say anything else Felix interrupted her.

“I’m Felix, Y/n’s boyfriend. What going on, doctor?” She turned to you with wide eyes pointing at Felix. You motioned to her and an unspoken promise was made that you would talk about it later. She gave you a stern motherly look before turning back to what the doctor was saying.

“Well. She is severely malnourished. Her blood sugar and iron are dangerously low.” Felix put his head in his hands, clearly upset. “I’m seeing in her records this has occurred before?” Felix nodded reached for your hand. “Well, I want her to stay here until the IV is drained and someone should make sure she is eating and resting well.” The doctor wrote out a copy of meds and instructions for both Felix and your leader.

You watched Felix listen intensely on everything the doctor said about your health, taking notes of his own. Eventually, the doctor and your leader left the room. “Darling...I should have figured it out when you said you were dizzy. I’m so sorry. I should have- Fuck, I saw the sign and I didn’t do anything.” He rested his head in his hands clearly upset. You pulled him over to you and wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you, for being here for me. That’s all I need.” You kissed the top of his head and buried your face in his neck.

Seungmin:

You could tell Seungmin anything. You had been best friends before you started dating and were basically inseparable. There was only one thing Seungmin didn’t know about you, your history with not so healthy weight loss methods. In highschool like most students, your self esteem was a soul sucking bottomless pit.

Every insecurity was brought to light by your cruel peers. Feeling broken you sought comfort looking magazines filled with beautiful women. Beautiful skinny women. Your desire to be like them grew stronger as you grew older. At first, you only skipped meals when extra work needed to be done. To you, there was no bad consequence at the time. Not only would you lose a little weight but you would get more accomplished.

Then skipping meals became a regular thing. You would usually get dinner with Seungmin most nights but still ate light. Seungmin paid no mind to it, assuming you were eating healthy during the day.

After a few months, he noticed you were extremely thin to an unhealthy degree. Seungmin was hesitant to ask you about it at first. You were an adult and could take care of yourself. He also didn’t want to come off as clingy and intrusive, but he was really worried about you to the point where he would lose sleep wondering if you had actually eaten that day and lied to him over a phone call.

Soon, he had enough. “Y/n, be honest with me.” He exclaimed one day while he was over at your apartment. You stopped mid-sip of water and turned to your boyfriend. “You’re skipping meals aren’t you?”

Silence filled the apartment. Every sound seemed to have been amplified. The dripping water of the bathroom faucet, the clock in the kitchen, the fabric of Seungmin’s sweater brushing against the couch. He watched you with determined eyes.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked hesitantly. He let out a heavy sigh taking your hands in his. He looked hurt.

Your boyfriend looked back up at you. He seemed to be studying every detail of your face. The bags under your eyes. The way your cheeks had begun to sink in. “I’m not mad.” He whispered. Seungmin took his time choosing his next words with care. “I’m worried, Y/n. Look at you. You are clearly not healthy. This has gotten out of hand.”

You felt exposed. Raw. Vulnerable. You felt small. Seungmin was right. What you were doing wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t safe, but you couldn’t just stop. It had gotten to the point that you barely had an appetite during normal meal times.

“Min...I can’t just stop. I’m really messed up aren’t I?”

Seungmin pulled you into his chest, resting his head on yours. “No more than anyone else.” He whispered. It felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders knowing that Seungmin knew your secret. You didn’t feel alone anymore. “We can get you the help you need. All I want is for you to be healthy and happy.”

There were a million things you wanted to say to him, but actions seemed to work better. You nodded against his chest, letting your arms fall from around his neck to rest gently over his heart. “I should have told you sooner.” You said softly, listening to his heartbeat.

His fingers softly ran through your hair. “What matters is you told me. I’m not going to let you go through this alone anymore. I’m always here for you, Y/n.”

Jeongin:

You had recently got a new roommate. A roommate who looked like she walked straight out of a Victoria’s Secret magazine. It didn’t help that she often walked around in her body hugging workout gear. You felt pudgy next to her. She was of course the nicest person on the planet which didn’t make your jealousy decrease any more than it should. In reality, it only grew more.

You wanted what she had. At first, you just started with a diet and exercise. Jeongin was happy to work out with you in the gym. He loved going on night runs with you near the Han river. But, you just weren’t getting the results you wanted. You still looked like a blobfish next to your roommate and were seeing no near progress anytime soon.

The first thing that Jeongin noticed was you stopped letting him come around to your apartment. In your mind the less he saw your roommate the less likely he was to compare you too. Not that he would, but there was always this doubt in the back of your mind.

The second was your dramatic change in demeanor. A cloud of depression seemed to hang over you wherever you went. You were tired and not acting like yourself. Lastly, he noticed you getting thinner and thinner.

You had cut out so many things from your diet that you were basically only eating a few crackers and slices of cheese a couple times a day. You stopped going out to dinner with Jeongin, choosing to go out when you knew you wouldn’t be eating.

He had no idea how to approach you, but he was worried sick. So, he went to the one person he knew he could trust with anything. Chan. He sat done with Chan and told him about everything he was thinking and feeling. After getting advice from his hyung he felt much better about asking you what was going on.

The two of you were on one of your Han river night runs. The pace you were running at was slower than usual. Jeongin made sure to go your speed, picking up on little things he noticed. “Y/n, are you sure you are alright?” He asked, stopping.

You nodded hands resting on your knee. Your chest was tight and your stomach hurt. It felt like hot volcanic air was pressing down on you like an anvil. “I’m fine. I just need a break.” He nodded and crouched down next to you. Not many people were out since it was later in the evening, but Jeongin still kept an eye out for pedestrians who might come by.

“Angel, you don’t look good at all.” He said rubbing your back. “Come sit for a minute.” Not letting you say anything against the notion he dragged you over to a bench and handed you his water bottle. You flinched tasting what was in it. Definitely not water.

“What is this?”

“Don’t worry. It’s got plenty of electrolytes in it. Just drink, angel. You need it.”

Jeongin rubbed your back as you drank from the bottle. “How did you know I needed that?” You questioned still out of breath. You attempted to hand him back the water bottle but he put it back in your hands.

“I know you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

You sighed head in your hands. “How long have you known?”

He shrugged playing with a bracelet on his wrist. “Maybe a week,” He had known for that long and he hadn’t said anything? Why? He gave you a tight-lipped smile as if reading your thoughts. “I was hoping you would tell me. But, you come first before anything.” He laced his fingers with yours. “Why are you skipping meals, angel?”

You sighed, looking out at the water, feeling much better now. “I was jealous of my roommate. She just is so fit and gorgeous. I feel so inferior next to her.” You hand carded through your messy hair as you looked up at your boyfriend. “Maybe I was...the teensiest bit worried that she might turn your head because of how slender she was.”

“Angel, you are perfect to me. I never want you to change.” He said pressing a kiss to your temple.

Requests are open my lovelies! Just send an ask!

Masterlist

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bimoonchilde · 3 years ago

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Welcome Home

The bullet had come a little too close to Carmina, too close for comfort. Rage boiled in Kenz's chest, knocking Carmina out of the way, facing the shooter. They couldn't see her face, not through the mask, but rage wrote itself in every line. After that, everything happened in a blur.

Pain tore through her abdomen, but it was easily forgotten as the adrenaline dump hit. For most that would mean lifting cars off their children, running into burning buildings to save their pets...

But for her? That meant the bodies of Highwaymen were being dropped, the smarter, more fortunate ones deciding to retreat while death incarnate lay waste to their comrades, unaware of how much worse it would be had Carmina had actually gotten hurt.

"Holy fucking shit, that was awesome." Oh, Carmina, as if she hadn't almost been shot.

"We need to get outta here, kid. They'll be back." Yes, Captain, get her out of here, far away.

"Hold up, Cap. I gotta thank them," Carmina's hand squeezes hers, a genuine look of gratitude on her face. Heart wrenching gratitude, just like her mama, "Thank you, whoever you are, saved my ass."

"You're wel-." Kenz couldn't even get the whole word out before her vision started swimming, the pain making itself known all over again as she collapsed.

"Let's go!"

"We can't leave 'em here!"

"Fine, I'll carry em, you keep moving."

The world started to darken, and panic flooded. Would she wake up, having never left the bunker? Would she still be trapped in there with him?

"Jerome.." Through the panic, her heart overrode her mind, calling out for the kindest man she knew before she passed out from the pain and blood loss.

He was the only man of God she trusted with her soul, if this was to be her end.

She woke the next morning in a daze, groggy from whatever sedative she'd been given, the pain in her abdomen making her hiss as she sat up in whatever makeshift bed they'd laid her on.

"I'd take it easy if I were you, tearing those stitches is gonna make it hurt a lot worse."

Her eyes darted to the source of the voice, coming to a stop as she saw the man sat next to her bed, staring at the cloth mask in his hand, her mask, and her heart felt like it was going to rip itself out of her chest.

Jerome was the best man she'd ever known, kind and just, and she felt as if she had somehow betrayed him. She couldn't even look him in the eye.

"I asked the others to wait outside. Kim's the only other person who knows." His voice was so tender, but it cut her to the bone all the same. What could she say? What words could even begin to make sense of why she stayed away?

"Thank you." She barely recognized the sound of her own voice. It was so small and defeated it hardly felt like it came out of her at all. But it did, and she could hear Jacob's voice laughing at her ("You're weak. Just look at you, sitting there useless. Pathetic.")

"Where have you been, Deputy? We.. we looked for you, didn't know if you'd made it or not." His voice, tinged with sadness and the slightest bit of anger, broke the silence. He was right to be angry, she wanted him to yell at her, to send her away, but he didn't, "Why didn't you come find us?"

She did, oh she did. But the weight of everything that happened, all the lives she'd taken, how hard she'd fought, for it to be for nothing? The guilt and the shame was too much to bare, and she couldn't risk their safety? That she was a coward and couldn't face them?

"Deputy," the anger in his voice had faded, "Oh God, what did he do to you?" Strong arms enveloped her in the warmest, kindest embrace she'd felt in nearly twenty years, still her shaking body, wracked by silent sobbing. When that had started, she didn't know, but she curled into him, the kindest man she knew, muttering her apologies through labored breath.

"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry. I couldn't stop it, I wasn't strong enough." She sounded nothing like the woman she used to be, and God did she want to find that woman again.

"You listen to me," His voice was shaky through his own tears, "there was nothing any of us could have done to stop this. You don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. It's too much for one person to bare."

"I was supposed to save everyone."

"That was never supposed to be on you alone. I'm sorry we put that on you."

An apology, something she never thought she would hear, never thought she deserved, cut her to the bone.

"It's gonna be alright, Deputy. We've got you now." His arms tightened around her, quietly sending his thanks to God for returning her to them. "You're home now. You're home."

#pastor jerome #jerome jeffries #deputy kenz #fc5 #far cry new dawn #yeah i wanted to hurt myself

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

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Seasons Change (d.s.) - ONE

↳ A/N This one already holds a special place in my heart and it has barely even begun! Might be a bit slower on updates because I want to make sure it’s perfect for us all. Thank you to @stuffofseaveyy for your unwavering help with plotting this storyline out, @randomlimelightxxx for your excitement and help, and of course, @jonahlovescoffee for being my hype girl and the best mayor’s wife anyone could ask for ;)

↳ Summary: Everyone knows everything about everyone in this small rural town in east Connecticut and the handsome single father who owns the farm down the main street seems to always be the talk of the town. Balancing the care of his acreage, raising his school-age son, and coaching the local boys’ hockey team keeps Daniel busy; but his mind never strays far from the expansive and vibrant flower gardens planted outside his farmhouse.

↳ Word Count: 2520

↳ Warnings: This story touches on topics such as loss of loved ones and grief. Nothing too detailed but read at your own discretion x

If you weren’t looking, you would miss it. An hour-and-a-half drive east of Hartford, Connecticut rested a small town that barely occupied more than an intersection of space in time. On your way east towards state lines, a rectangular green sign half covered by an oak tree would welcome you to Lincoln – Population: 200. You’d leave the town before you even realized you were in it if you weren’t paying attention but maybe that’s how the locals liked it.

People moved to Lincoln to get away from the bustle of the city…it was full of those people who had ‘let’s ditch this town’ mindsets and set down roots in a section of the world where they wouldn’t be bothered. It was the type of town that lived in the lyrics of a country song: picture perfect homegrown peace where everyone knew everyone and everyone had a place. It was easy to know everyone in a town like Lincoln. Driving in from the city you would pass a white paneled church, a few small single storey houses with lengthy driveways, the red trimmed general store, a brick sided restaurant, a run down and rusted mechanic’s shop, and catch a glimpse of the small community center just past the park before being enveloped by the nothingness that middle-of-nowhere Connecticut was known for.

Not much happened in Lincoln – at least nothing that was worth noting. Sometimes a car would break down and a city dweller in a designer suit would find his way to the general store to ask for assistance or, more often, a coyote would be rumoured to be roaming at night but that was the extent of the excitement. The most exciting thing to do outside of day to day work was play hockey and it seemed to be the town’s pride and joy of a pastime. There was no such thing as ‘hockey season’ as hockey season was year round in the small town of Lincoln, Connecticut. The community center housed an ice rink that could be melted down to a basketball court but everyone stayed for the hockey. The Lincoln Lighting Junior and Senior leagues were usually the talk of the town. The school-aged boys (ages 7-13) played for the juniors and the later teens and most of the fathers played for the senior league. The captain of the senior league was the coach of the juniors and he owned one of the few farms a few paces north of the main intersection.

A father of one and the best hockey player Lincoln had ever seen, Daniel Seavey was more than one could expect from a small town man.

He wasn’t your everyday potato farmer with uneven tan lines or a body that housed more beer than muscle and, in fact, he was the talk and the eye candy of the town. At only twenty-nine, Daniel was the best of the best in Lincoln: best hockey player, best coach, best farmer, best guitarist, best father; and he had the sandy brown hair and sky blue eyes of a heartbreaker to top it all. At six feet tall, Daniel was slim and handsome, and yet had the muscles capable of running a farm and shooting slapshots like you wouldn’t believe. Daniel was quiet and polite and he innocently humoured the wives of the town as they flirted with him in front of their unimpressed husbands.

But no one could be mad at Daniel. Not when he was the first and only widow Lincoln had ever seen.

Marigold Seavey was twenty-six when she died in her bed at their farmhouse in the early hours of the morning. Her passing was the first major event to ever shake the town of Lincoln. Everyone knew everyone in this town and, that being said, everyone knew what a sunshiny soul Marigold was. Daniel, especially, seemed to have his light burnt out once she was buried behind the church at the corner of town. Some of the folks in town will tell you that the saddest sight they had ever seen was Daniel standing at the foot of his wife’s grave after the funeral with his six-year-old son holding his hand and the two of them crying silent tears into the fresh fall soil.

Despite Daniel’s quiet persona, he was strong and he knew he had to be for the sake of his young son. He couldn’t wallow in his grief for long since he had a son to raise and a farm to tend to and the generosity of the townsfolk certainly helped him to stay on his feet after his wife passed.

It had been a year-and-a-half since Marigold died. Daniel had just turned twenty-nine as March moulded into April and the winter chill was starting to fade into spring and the second birthday without her wasn’t any easier. The birthday cake baked by his neighbour wasn’t as delicious as Marigold’s classic lemon cake she would make him every year but he politely thanked the woman and dared not complain. Daniel would never complain over the niceties of the townsfolk.

That’s what came with living in such a small town; everyone had everyone’s back.

It was the first Sunday of April and the first truly nice spring day of the year. With a crisp breeze in the air, it was only just warm enough to discard the winter jackets and most of the town was gathered in the large backyard of the mayor’s house for the usual after-church brunch. On the colder Sundays, brunch was held in the main restaurant but everyone preferred to gather in the fresh air and over the crisp green grass of the mayor’s house as soon as the weather permitted.

The mayor’s house was the largest and had the most land outside of the farms that were just north of the main intersection in town. Jonah – known by the locals as such since he didn’t like the formality that came with the title of ‘Mayor Frantzich’ – and his wife Jocelyn kept a pretty house on the edge of the little town. They could be what you call the ideal small town family with two kids, a dog, and white picket fence – enough backyard space for it to be the perfect spot for weekly brunch.

The town children had space to play and stretch their legs after sitting for an hour in church and the yard was filled with the shouts from their games. The adults lingered around the yard in various little circles, nursing freshly squeezed orange juice in spring-themed clear plastic cups and talking amongst themselves.

Daniel did a lot of listening during Sunday brunches, standing amidst one of the groups of parents as they talked about school, clubs, and work. Marigold was always the chatty one of the two of them…without her, Daniel felt out of place.

“What about you, Daniel? Think the frost will be gone to break ground this week?”

Jack spoke first, a shorter man with unruly brown hair and enough tattoos to surprise anyone with the fact that he raised an apple orchard. He owned the farm beside Daniel’s and was one of his closest friends in the town.

Daniel thought for a moment and scuffed the toe of his dress shoe against the grass. The cold ground was still pretty solid and the chill in the air still had them all wearing blazers over their Sunday button-ups.

“Only if this cold front lets up.” Daniel answered. “I’m hoping to plough by next week at the latest.”

“Everything’s been going well with the farm and your boy?” Jonah asked, his hand tucked around his wife’s waist and he raised his opposite hand to his mouth to sip his juice.

Daniel shifted on his feet and gave a shrug, his eyes drifting past the group of parents to easily pick out his shaggy haired brunette son across the yard with the rest of the kids. At almost eight-years-old, Lennox was the light of Daniel’s life; his little hockey star, helping hand, and the one whom his late wife’s smile and spirit lived on in. It had been a hard year-and-a-half for the two Seavey boys but Daniel was relived that he could hear his son laugh again, his audible glee reaching to the far edges of the mayor’s property and to his father’s ears.

“It’s been…fine.” Daniel sighed, his eyes lingering on his son as he answered Jonah’s question, “Lennox has been doing well…his grades are better this year which I’m relieved about. I just…I already sold the sheep and half the chickens and the second cow last spring to try and tame some of the workload but it’s still a lot.”

“Running a farm on your own isn’t easy.” Jack said, “I know how much work it takes for two owners let alone one.”

“We’re here to help with whatever you need.” Corbyn assured him. “I can give you deals on whatever you need from the shop as often as I can.”

Corbyn owned the general store in the center of town and was the bachelor of Lincoln. It wasn’t like there were any women to date in such a small place full of cookie cutter rural families but Corbyn was very happy as he was: running the store and being the eyes and ears of the town.

Daniel shut down his generous offer politely as he looked back to his friends, “No, no. I don’t want that…thank you though. I’m just worried the garden will suffer. With so much to do with ploughing and planting and coaching…I don’t know how much time I’ll have for the flowers.” Daniel let his gaze drift back to his son playing across the grass, “Lennox is too young to tend to them himself but he loves the gardens so much so I don’t want yet another thing to disappoint him.”

“Have you thought of hiring someone?” Jonah asked.

“Like a gardener?” Daniel hummed, “I dunno.”

Corbyn sipped his drink, “Is it in the budget?”

“I think so.” Daniel shrugged, swirling his orange juice in his hand. “Never thought about it. Mari always took care of the flowers so…”

“I have a family friend who’s pretty good with gardens…I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help out.” Jocelyn offered.

Daniel chuckled under his breath, “That’s…a nice offer but I’m not looking to put anyone out of their way. They’re just flowers after all.”

But everyone knew that they weren’t just flowers to Daniel. They were Marigold’s flowers.

Jack tisked at Daniel’s hesitation, “Well if it’s in your budget to hire a gardener and you know the gardens are important to Lennox and yourself, then why not give it a try? You don’t have anything to lose.”

Jonah only added onto the argument, “She’s been wanting to come visit Lincoln for a while now. Why don’t we invite her to town and she can stay with us and you can give her a look over…if you think you want to hire her then you can.”

Daniel thought about it for a moment, taking a sip of his juice as his eyes found his son again. It was habit. Lennox was already running for him at top speed across the grass and Daniel set his cup down on the table just in time to welcome his seven-year-old’s energetic jump at him. He scooped him up with one arm and a tired grunt as he hiked him up onto his waist and Lennox held onto him around his neck, giggling as the other kids ran over after him.

“Daddy’s safe. You can’t get me.” Lennox told them matter-of-factly.

Daniel smiled proudly and linked his hands under his son’s bum to hold him up securely. At almost eight, Lennox was a bit heavy to hold but after nine years of farm work and working out for hockey, it wasn’t much of an issue for Daniel to hold him. He’d never complain regardless.

The other kids found their parents, gladly taking sips of juice or pieces of cut up fruit after a tiring chase around the yard. Jonah and Jocelyn’s seven-year-old twins found their way between them and helped themselves to the few snacks on the table. They were the closest to Lennox’s age – although a few months younger – and the boy of the set of fraternal twins was on the junior hockey team with him.

With the parents busy for a moment with their children – Jack was helping to fasten his daughter’s curly hair back in her headband – Daniel pondered the previous offer. His son rested his head against his with his small arms slung around his neck and Daniel could feel each of his gentle breaths rising and falling his chest. Everything Daniel did was for Lennox. He bit his lip.

“No rush.” Jocelyn said to him, reassuring their offer as if she could see his hesitation, “Just let us know.”

“Thank you.” Daniel said honestly.

“The Herron’s are coming over.” Corbyn whispered to the group and right away they shifted awkwardly as the family approached. Daniel let out an anticipatory sigh.

If you ever thought of jealousy, you would think of Zach Herron; father of two boys who weren’t very good at hockey and husband to a wife whose eyes liked to linger on Daniel’s biceps a little too much. Zach envied a lot of Daniel…maybe even envied him that his wife was dead. He would never admit that out loud though.

“Seavey.” Zach greeted as his family approached the group with his petite platinum blonde wife on his arm. He glanced around to the others, “And friends.”

There was a dull chorus of replies.

Zach continued, “I’m still willing to buy your horses off you. You know I have a generous price to offer.”

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Yes, I know. But the horses are not for sale and they never will be.”

“Daniel would sell his house before he sells those horses.” Jack said. The group laughed lightly at the truth behind that.

Lennox wiggled from Daniel’s arms and he set him down to join up with the two Herron boys who had just come over. The children gathered together at the other side of the table and chatted excitedly. Daniel picked up his orange juice.

“Daniel,” Zach’s wife set a hand on his bicep, her face filled with nothing but dramatic concern, “how are you holding up?”

“I’m doing fine, Katie, thank you.” Daniel replied politely.

She sighed, “It would just be a terrible shame to see your beautiful gardens go to waste; I overheard you talking about it from over there. Please let me know if I can help in any way.”

Zach’s annoyed scoff had Jack smirking into his orange juice. Corbyn and Jonah exchanged amused glances between themselves. Daniel offered Zach’s wife a small polite smile.

“That’s very nice of you to offer, but Jonah and Jocelyn already offered a family friend who’s in the business.” Daniel looked over at the couple again, with slight thankfulness in his eyes, “And I think I will gladly take them up on that recommendation.”

Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @midnightpsychic @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

Please click the link in my bio to be added to the taglist!

#🌼#daniel seavey #why dont we #jack avery #corbyn besson #jonah marais #zach herron #why dont we fanfic #wdw #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey imagines

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 years ago

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Day 14: The Test Results - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

Todays story was requested by @itspdameronthings. Thank you so much for the request and I really hope you like it. This is the longest of all the stories I have written for the November Writing Challenge.

November Writing Challenge Masterlist

Day 13: Water Flowed- Llewyn Davis

Day 1

“Do you have to go?” Your voice is quiet as you watch him pack his bags from your seat on the bed.

“Querida, you know I don’t want to but they are asking me back as a favor AND I’m being compensated. I worked in Columbia for three years, it's where my mother was born. I feel like I need to do this,” he kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his own. “It’s only four months and I promise I will call and text you every single day. It’s killing me to leave you but...I feel I have to do this.”

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was a former member of Delta Force in the US Military before leaving to go work for the DEA in Columbia. Three years ago, he left Columbia to return home but not without one final mission. He got together a few of his old buddies from the force and robbed a drug lord before killing him and fleeing the country. But something went wrong. Well… a lot of shit went wrong, resulting in the death of his old captain, Tom, and forcing them to leave millions of dollars off the side of a cliff buried in the snow.

Santiago had accepted a temporary assignment with the DEA to return back to Columbia and train some new recruits. You were not one bit okay with this plan but the one thing you loved and also kind of hated about your husband was how headstrong he could be. Unfortunately, you are just as stubborn as him. The last few weeks leading up to his departure had been fraught with arguments. You didn’t want him to go. Even though it had been years since that last mission, you didn’t know what the situation down there was. Were they still hunting for the men who had robbed and gunned down Lorea? Was he walking into a trap? No money was worth losing the man you loved, and he didn’t seem to understand that.

“You don’t have to do anything.” The words are bitter on your tongue and Santiago winces, before moving to stand. “We don’t need that money, and you have no idea what you walking into baby…”

“Y/N, we have talked about this enough. I am going!” He slams the top of his suitcase closed before pulling the zipper harshly and walking towards the door. He turns sharply at the door pointing at you, “Why do you keep arguing with me about this? I have told you a million reasons why I need to do this! Instead of supporting me you're just fighting with me!”

“I do support yo-”

“Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it.” he swings his backpack on his back, puts on his hat and walks out the door. You’re on your feet in a hurry. “Goddamnit, Santiago! Will you just fucking listen to me for two minutes?” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. He’s fuming and you can tell the volcano is seconds away from blowing. “I DO support you! I understand WHY you feel the need to do this but I LOVE YOU and I don’t want to LOSE YOU!”

You're out of breath from shouting, and you see the anger slowly fade from his face as he comes to stand closer to you, “Querida...baby you're not going to lose me. I love you….so … damn … much. I never really felt alive until I met you, and no one,” he puts a finger under your chin and raises your eyes to his own, “no one is going to take me away from you.”

“You can’t promise that…” Your words come out broken and a choked sob escapes you. “You don’t know what’s going to happen. Santi I can’t lose you. I won’t survive without you…”

“Shhh.” He pulls you close and you collapse in a sobbing heap into his chest, your tears soaking the front of his t-shirt, his hands are strong as he holds you close. “I know nothing is one hundred percent but I love you and I am going to come home back to you. Nothing could ever keep me away.” He pulls you away from his chest, wiping your eyes before kissing you gently.

“I love you too Santi, so much.” You sigh into the kiss and hold him tight before he pulls away, walking towards the door, grabbing his duffle bag from the floor and walking out, taking your heart with him.

Day 31

Santiago kept good on his promise and called and texted every single day, each time letting you know he was safe and how much he loved you. He was working hard down there, and he loved the adventure, even if he missed you like crazy. You missed him too and the combination of being without your husband, taking care of the whole house, your shared basset hound, and work was draining. It was only a matter of time before you started feeling under the weather. You had been feeling fatigued, sore throat, cough, and after two days of vomiting throughout the day you had to admit it, you were sick.

On your nightly call with Santi the worry in his voice warmed your heart. “Baby, you need to go to the doctor and get checked. Remember when you got bronchitis last year? It was pretty bad.”

You hack into the receiver “Yeah, maybe you're right. I just feel like shit Nauseous all day long. Jonathon actually sent me home today. Said he was worried about me ‘infecting’ the office.”

Santi mutters under his breath but you hear him and snort. “Yeah I agree he is a dick, but I appreciate being sent home. I’ll go to the urgent care tomorrow.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise. I want to feel better...I just hate going to the doctor.” You recall the many times Santi had to drag you kicking and screaming (sometimes literally) to the doctor.

“Why don’t you ask one of the guys to go with you?”

“Maybe...Frankie mentioned he was off tomorrow when I called him yesterday....”

“See. It was meant to be. Why don’t you text him after you hang up with me and he will make sure you go? Then I can rest easy tonight knowing you’re ok. I wish it were me though. I would take such good care of you baby.”

“Oh yeah?” What would you do if you were here?” You snuggle down into the comforter with your box of tissues, hot tea, the humidifier and his deep soothing voice lulling you to sleep.

It doesn’t take long before your soft snores fill the phone and Santi smiles to himself. Listening to the sounds of his love finally feeling at rest. When you wake up three hours later to throw up the light from your phone signifies a message.

I called Frankie, he’s going to come by at 10 o’clock to take you for an appointment. I booked it online through the app. Get some rest and drink lots of fluids. I love you. - Hubby

You smile before brushing your teeth and crawling back into the warmth of your bed and falling back to sleep, dreaming of your husband.

Day 32

The next morning Frankie rings the doorbell at exactly 9:45.Like all the other Delta Force guys (except Benny), they are meticulously early. You greet him with a cup of coffee with his own special airplane shaped mug, complete with his name engraved on the side. You knew that when you married Santiago, Frankie came as part of the package.

“Hi Garcia, how ya feeling?” He wraps one arm around your shoulder and you lean into the embrace, placing your head on his arm.

“To be completely honest Cat? I feel like shit.”

Frankie lets out a small laugh before rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Well then let’s get you to the doctor. You got your insurance card?”

“Yeah it’s in my bag.” You grab your brown knit bag, swinging it over your shoulder.

“Then let’s get going.” He guides you out to his truck, helping you into the seat before running around the front to the driver's seat.

About twenty minutes later you're pulling into the parking lot of your doctor. Frankie walks you inside helping you get signed in. It's another thirty minutes before you're put back into a room, sitting on crinkled tissue paper, Frankie reading back issues of People. The door opens and you sit up a little straighter.

“Mrs. Garcia?” You nod. “I’m Dr. Jacobs. What can I help you with today?”

You proceed to tell her what’s been going on and she goes through the motions, asking you all about your symptoms, checking your ears, nose, throat, and chest. When she's done she types everything into her tablet, “one more question, when was your last menstrual cycle?”

You open your mouth to answer before closing it slowly. “When was my last...Oh. Uhm,” you laugh nervously at a loss for words, “about a month ago it should be starting any day now…”

“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” she asks, looking between you and Frankie.

“Oh, he’s not my husband!”

“I’m her husband's best friend. He’s out of the country.”

“Well it sounds like you may have the flu but I would like to run some labs as well if that’s alright with you, and maybe a pregnancy test just to be sure?”

You laugh. “Sure doc whatever you need, but I am not pregnant.”

Day 35

You swing your car haphazardly into the driveway narrowly missing a planter box and running over Mia’s pink bike. The front door slams open. Frankie is running down the driveway, yanking the car door open and pulling you into his arms. Your sobs are staining your cheeks and you're a blubbering mess.

“Garcia! What the hell! Are you ok!?” Frankie checks you over. You shake your head frantically.

“NO! No I am not ok!” you shout! “The test results came back!”

“Oh god, is it bad!? Cancer? Diabetes? Fuck! Did Pope give you some kind of STD because I swear I will kick his ass for you!”

“NO! God...no...I'm...Pregnant!” You break down in sobs and hold onto Frankie who starts to laugh. “Stop laughing! This is serious! Frankie!!”

He chuckles squeezing you tighter, “Garcia this is wonderful! You're gonna be a mom and Santiago is going to be a daddy! Mia will have someone to play with. Fuck, I’m so happy for you guys.” You pull away to see a huge smile on his face.

Some of his excitement rubs off on you and you rub your nose on the sleeve of your shirt before you smile, “I’m gonna be a mommy…oh shit Frankie what do I tell Santi?

“We will worry about that later. But right now let’s get you home and back to bed. You still have that cough and you need your rest.”

Day 36

“Hey baby. How is my favorite man?”

“Oh Querida I miss you so much. I think I forgot how much I love being out in the field. The rush, the thrill. It’s addicting.”

Your heart drops and for a minute you say nothing. How the hell could you tell him about the baby? He would want to come straight home and he’s loving the work.

“Everything is great here. Yeah, I got the test results yesterday from the lab and everything is normal. I just have the flu and since I’ve been off the last few days I’ve rested and drank lots of fluids and I am feeling much better.”

“Oh good, I was so worried about you.” He sighs. “I got a new app on my phone that counts down to the second till I get to be back with you.. I love you so much Querida.”

You bite your lip to keep from crying before letting out a shaky breath, “I love you too baby, and I can’t wait to see you soon.”

The conversation shifts and when you hang up with your husband you shoot a quick text off to Frankie.

Don’t mention ANYTHING about the pregnancy to Santiago. I’ll tell him when he gets home.

What? Why?

He loves being there and if we're going to have a baby then he's not going to be able to do this again. If I tell him you know he will just come home early.

Ok...I still think you should tell him. You're going to need support though...he’s still going to be gone for three more months.

Your right...Frankie...will you be my person?

... of course. Get some sleep Garcia.

Day 100

Four months doesn’t seem like a long time. But when you're pregnant and missing your husband it seems like a lifetime. It had been one hundred days since Santi had left for South America and only twenty-two more days till he came home. When you did the math in your head you had become pregnant two weeks before Santi had left. Meaning you were well on your way to being a very noticeable pregnant woman.

You had been shopping a couple times with Benny to Motherhood Maternity store to get some bigger clothes because yours refused to fit. Also a very interesting trip to Babies-R-Us where after much convincing he did not purchase the entire store for his future niece/nephew. Will had been attending your doctor and lab appointments with you. And sweet Frankie had been helping you around the house, getting groceries when you were too tired, keeping up the yard, and taking you and your dogs for walks to keep you moving. Your husband’s brothers had become your own, and you loved them for it. Only 22 more days.

Day 120

You're sitting at the kitchen table doing a puzzle with Will when Frankie comes in carrying takeout and a squirming Mia. He puts her down and she rushes toward you.

“TIA GARCIA!” she screams, launching herself into your arms.

“MIA!” you shout, squeezing her tightly before tickling her sides. She giggles before shimmying out of your lap and running to the kitchen. Coming back a moment later carefully balancing (at least as careful as a three year old can) a plate filled with watermelon to you.

“Papa says this is for the baby,” she tells you in what could be called an attempted whisper but more like a shout.

“Why are you whispering Mia?”

“Papa says that I have guts to be quiet because the baby is sleeping.” She leans forward and hugs your slightly protruding belly before climbing into the kitchen chair across from you.

You give Frankie an amused look and he smiles with a shrug before plating out the food. Pizza for them and watermelon for you. It’s all you seem to want anymore. “Oh come to mama.” You spear a piece before placing it in your mouth, moaning as the cold sweet juice goes down your throat.

“So I’m taking you to the airport on Friday to pick up Santiago. Any ideas on how you're going to tell him?” Frankie asks, taking a large bite of pizza.

“Well I think he’s going to know.” You gesture to your stomach, spearing another piece of melon.

“I’ve been looking up ideas on how to tell people you're pregnant, and you could give him a jar of pasta sauce,” Will says and you all look at him like he’s nuts, “No, hear me out it’s Prego pasta sauce...get it, Prego?”

You groan before taking another bite, “I think he’s going to notice I’m pregnant before I can even give him a jar of pasta sauce Will.”

“Not if he doesn’t see your stomach first…” Frankie says, “what if you made a sign?”

“A sign?”

“Yeah like when we used to come home from a tour and the families would have signs. You could make a sign!”

You think about it for a minute before you fall in love with the idea. You go to the office and come back with a couple poster boards you kept for work presentations. You place one in front of Mia who squeals and grabs one of the markers you provide. You get to work outlining the words and filling them in with his favorite colors blue and red. When completed, you lift it up and show it to the others.

“That’s perfect!” Frankie beams.

“Bet you 50 bucks he cries,” Will says.

“Deal,” they slap hands and you glare, before smiling at the two. Only two more days.

Day 122 - Santiago Comes Home

You feel sick, what if he doesn’t want to have a baby? Will he be mad I kept this from him? Shit, maybe this was a terrible idea. What the hell was I thinking?

“Garcia, you need to calm down, you're making me stressed.”

“What if he doesn’t want this? What if he is disappointed? What if-” Frankie stands up and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Garcia listened to me. Santiago loves you more than anything in this entire world and he is going to love this baby just as much maybe even more. He may be surprised yeah but trust me. Once he wraps his brain around it, he’s going to be ecstatic.” He pulls you in for a hug and you take a deep breath, calming your nerves.

The constant flow of travelers does nothing to lessen your anxiety. You take a deep breath and almost choke on the smell of espresso from the nearby Starbucks. Frankie gives you one last squeeze before handing you the sign and stepping back as people flood out of the gate.

You rise to your tiptoes in search for a familiar head of salt and pepper curls. When in a break of the crowd you see him, running in a full sprint towards you. His face split into a megawatt smile. As he gets close enough to touch, you hold up the sign. He slows down slightly as he reads and you watch the smile fade only slightly before it’s replaced by shock.

Welcome home daddy

He reaches forward, holding tight to the poster board and slowly lowering it, eyes transfixed at your swollen belly. Silence. His hands shake as they put the sign on the floor, his eyes never leaving you. Your heart races and you feel the urge to vomit return again before he drops to his knees.

You wince, “Baby, your knees…” reaching down to pull him up, but he makes no move to stand, his hands coming to your stomach. Placing his lips gently over your shirt. His forehead rests against you and tears drench your shirt. The baby chooses that moment to make their presence known kicking softly against his cheek. You run your hands through his curls and he looks up at you with a watery smile and a small laugh.

“Querida, you’re pregnant. We’re...we’re having a baby…” he sniffles and you can’t help the tears in your own eyes. “Why...why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home…”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t. You’ve been so happy these past few months and I knew you needed to do this. Yes, I was scared as hell about losing you but...I understood.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers before shakily getting to his feet and clutching you tight, his hands frame your face and he pulls you close getting lost in the kiss, “I love you...so fucking much,” he whispers putting his forehead against your own. “I love you too. I’m so glad your home… I mean the guys have been great but I’m excited to go shopping for baby stuff with you, attend my doctor appointments together, and have you bring me platefuls of watermelon.”

He laughs pulling back, “Watermelon? Is that what you’ve been craving?”

“Oh god yes, even talking about it makes my mouth water.”

“If that is what you want Querida, then you can have as much as you desire,” he kisses you again.

A cough sounds from behind and you turn to see Frankie smiling at you. Santi reaches out to give him a slap on the back, the two conversing in Spanish. You hold your hand out and Santi latches on, never letting go as you make your way through the terminal and out to the truck.

The world passes by in a kaleidoscope of color as Frankie drives you both home. Arriving, you thank him before leading Santi by the hand and into the house. When the door is latched behind you, he presses you into the door gently. Every touch, every caress, left you breathless. His lips warm and wet against your own. When you take a breath his tongue snakes inside and he drags you from the door, striping each other, leaving a trail of clothes to the bedroom.

After you’ve been thoroughly fucked and your wrapped up in Santiago’s strong arms, legs intertwined together, and he’s rubbing your belly do you finally relax. Sighing into his chest, and kissing it lightly. “Your really happy about the baby?” you whisper, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

His grip around you tightens, “I promise you, I am very happy about the baby. You made me a daddy Querida. I love you...so much.”

You sigh, “I love you too.”

3 months later

Eight months of pregnancy has flown by. After Santi got home from Columbia he took over doing everything. Attending your appointments together, buying and building things for the nursery, and bringing you platefuls of watermelon at all times of the day and night. Santiago takes the roll of daddy very seriously. All of those year in the military have come into play the last few months as he has transformed your house into a fortress. God help anyone that tries to hurt you or your unborn daughter.

It started small with a few extra cameras on the perimeter, then installing a new indoor security system. A new fence was put up around the pool two months ago, and most recently the baby monitors set up throughout the house. He was beginning to drive you a little insane and you honestly just wanted him to lay off a bit. The perfect opportunity arose one fateful morning during breakfast.

“So I’ve been thinking Querida, how do you feel about putting carpet on the floor of the nursery?”

Part 2: Carpet (If you haven’t read it, check it out!)

Day 15: Just Walk Away- Ezra (Prospect)

#November writing challenge #Day 14 #Triple Frontier #Oscar Isaac #Pedro Pascal #santiago pope garcia #Santiago Garcia x reader #fanfiction #my writing

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emerywrites · 3 years ago

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Fanfic: “Please don’t make a fuss”

So, I recently got back into Harry Potter and reread all of the books. Percy Weasley is one of my favorite characters and since its his birthday I wrote a fic. I hope that people enjoy it. :)

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy hated anyone making a fuss about his birthday. For twenty years he got away with passing it by with little acknowledgement. One year his daughters decide to change that.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: survivors guilt, PTSD

Percy always did his best to ignore his birthday. During the time that he had been estranged from his family, he had seen little reason to make a fuss about his birthday and the habit had stuck with him. Soon after he and Oliver had reignited their relationship, he told him that he didn’t want any birthday celebrations. Oliver had respected that other than a small gift and a “Happy birthday, love” the morning of August 22nd every year.

When Molly and Lucy were old enough to understand birthdays, things had changed, of course. They insisted on making homemade cards and having a cake. Percy allowed it and ate a small piece of cake as he admired their artistic efforts.

He remembered some particularly interesting cards on his birthday after they’d turned five. “That’s you, Daddy, and that’s me and that’s a dragon!” Molly had explained as she pointed to barely discernable shapes she had drawn in crayon.

“Oh, a dragon, how unique, dear,” he said to his daughter before leaning over to mutter to Oliver, “She’s been spending too much time with Charlie.”

Lucy showed him her own art of their family playing quidditch and Percy had been just as encouraging. It was easy to enjoy a birthday with small children who were an easy distraction. When they were young, he could allow his birthday to be more about them than himself.

But as they got older, that changed. His daughters wanted to get him gifts with their pocket money. They asked why they had birthday celebrations at the Burrow for everyone else in the family and why they went to see Papa’s family on his birthday, but never did any of that for Daddy. It was difficult to explain the complicated emotions that went along with Percy’s desire to not think about his birthday. So, he never did. He only ever said that all he wanted for his birthday was peace and quiet with his husband and daughters.

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Molly and Lucy were fifteen and August 22nd had come around yet again. They successfully avoided mentioning his birthday other than a kiss on his cheek that morning with a “Happy birthday, Dad”. The rest of the day was spent in Diagon Alley getting their school supplies and of course a special gift for Molly for being made prefect and Lucy for being made captain of the quidditch team. Percy was more than happy to make their successes the focus of the day.

After they got home, Molly ran upstairs to try on her new robes with her prefect’s badge. Moments later she came running back down. “I can’t find my badge!” Percy promised her that they would look until they found it.

Then Lucy piped up with, “I think you left it at the Burrow yesterday, when we went to show Grandmum and Granddad.”

Molly gasped. “You’re right! We have to go get it, right now.”

“Alright,” Percy agreed. “Ollie, you take Molly to get the badge. Lu and I can get started on dinner.”

“Dad, you know how Gran is, she’ll be disappointed if we don’t stay for dinner,” Molly told him. “We should all go.”

That was when Percy got suspicious. But he didn’t want to act paranoid and relented into going along. He side-long apparated with Lucy and Oliver with Molly. When they showed up outside of the Burrow, Percy immediately knew something was wrong. None of his nieces or nephews were outside running around. Usually there were at least a couple of them always underfoot no matter where you went around the Burrow.

He got a bad feeling that he knew what was about to happen. “Ollie, I’m not feeling too well. The three of you can stay. I’ll just go back…” But the three of them were already going up to the door. Percy followed, feeling his stomach twist into a knot as he desperately hoped that he was wrong in his prediction.

They entered the Burrow, just for the entire family to shout, “Surprise!” Every one of his siblings and their families were there, crammed inside his childhood home. It was overwhelming to see all of their smiling faces, there for him. Percy’s first instinct was to bolt and he would have if it had not been for him backing straight into his husband’s strong chest. He swallowed hard and plastered on a grin.

Percy kindly thanked them for such an amazing surprise. Everyone explained how it had all been Molly and Lucy planning the whole thing. Oliver hadn’t even known about it as the girls knew that he could never keep a secret from Percy.

Percy told himself, he would just get through the evening. He could do it. He’d often enough kept up a façade for politicians and department heads that he had to socialize with. He’d managed to trick Death Eaters into thinking that he wasn’t a threat to their take over of the ministry. It should be easy to pretend to his family that he was happy on his birthday.

They all sat outside at tables magically extended to their limit to hold the, what seemed to be, ever-growing number of Weasleys. Percy sat next to Oliver who was holding an enthusiastic conversation about quidditch with Ginny. His daughters were a bit further down the table talking animatedly with their cousins. He caught a few words of Molly bragging about her new status as prefect in the up-coming school year. Percy tried not to think about his twin brothers’ teasing about “perfect prefect Percy” and how he kind of wished he could reminisce with Fred and George about it. And, now he was thinking about Fred…

Percy hadn’t even noticed that his mother had gone inside. Then she was suddenly coming back out into the garden, floating a towering chocolate cake that had his name in icing. Freddie and Roxanne’s set of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes patented fireworks flashed and screamed through the sky. Percy thought he was going to throw up. He flinched and saw flashes of the walls of Hogwarts castle coming down… Fred’s lifeless eyes…

Percy stood abruptly, knocking his chair backwards. Everyone’s attention turned to him. Smiles faded from their faces when they saw the panicked expression he wore. “I have to go,” he said shakily.

He ran inside, knowing that there was no way he was steady enough to apparate. The intention was to take the floo home but the powder was not on the mantle where it usually was. He was about to try and summon it when Oliver came running in.

“Percy! Percy, what happened out there?” Oliver’s voice was so concerned and that just made Percy feel worse for making a scene.

“I can’t do this, Ollie,” he said hoarsely. There was a lump of emotion in his throat that made it difficult to get his words out. “I can’t be here.”

“Why not, love? I know you don’t like people to make a fuss about your birthday but the girls really wanted to do something special. They wanted to give you a proper birthday.”

“And they are lovely for wanting to do that. But you don’t understand!” How did he explain it? How could he, when saying it out loud would hurt more than anything?

Then Oliver was much closer. He put his hands on either side of Percy’s face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that Percy didn’t even realize he had shed. “Love, you’re scaring me. What is going on?”

Percy gently took his wrists and pushed the hands away. “I hate my birthday,” he said slowly. “After… after I left, I stopped caring about my birthday. I had my work and it just felt like another distraction.”

Oliver nodded. “So, you’re out of practice in celebrating. We can fix that. We’ll just start a bit smaller next time.” He laughed as if it was that easy.

“That’s not it!” he snapped. He was shouting. He didn’t mean to be but no one understood and they wouldn’t until he got it out. He couldn’t help but look away toward the fireplace. The words that sat on the tip of his tongue weren’t supposed to be out there. They were meant to stay there in his heart, slowly eating him alive. At least there, they couldn’t damage anyone else. “My birthday is just a reminder, Ollie! It’s a reminder that I get another year, year after year! I get to grow old and Fred doesn’t! It’s a reminder to my family that the wrong son survived! I can pretend… I can pretend that I’m okay if I just don’t let anyone make a fuss about celebrating. It feels wrong to make them celebrate it.”

Percy finally allowed himself to look at Oliver. His husband was staring at him, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t know what to say, but was struggling to find the words. But just past Oliver, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, was his father looking at him with pain-filled eyes.

“Is that what you really believe?” Arthur asked as he approached. “That we think the wrong son survived?”

Percy really wished he had just pushed through and gotten to the end of the dinner. He should have found a way to keep the smile on his face and his bum in his chair. Now, he was hurting his father all over again. “No!” he tried to lie. “I…it’s…” Both his father and his husband looked at him with pity and that was humiliating. There was no point in lying when they could see through him like a ghost. “Yes, that’s… that’s always what I believed. How could I not? It felt like the cost of me returning to the family was Fred’s life. Like it was some sort of horrible exchange. And you lost, someone as well-loved as Fred to get me… the broken one who came back too late.”

“None of us have ever thought that,” Arthur said with an adamant shake of his head. “Losing Fred was a tragedy. That loss is always going to be there. But I also got a son back that day, Percy. And I apologize, that we obviously didn’t do enough to make you feel fully welcomed back and that you thought we wouldn’t want to celebrate having you.”

“Dad, you don’t need to-” But then his dad was hugging him. It was strange. He tried to remember the last time his dad had hugged him like that. It had been a while.

When he was eventually released, he realized that Oliver had slipped out of the room. His dad looked at him and cleared his throat. “If you need to go home, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well. But I think everyone would really love for you to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” he said softly as he adjusted his glasses. “Molly and Lucy did put a lot of work into this.”

The reassurance had been needed but the fear of being unwanted still sat like a heavy stone on his chest. But then he followed his dad back outside to the garden. Everyone turned to look at him and in overlapping voices said how happy they were he came back out. George came out of nowhere to throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I told the little troublemakers to cool it with the fireworks,” George whispered into his ear. “They can set me off too sometimes.”

Then George was pulling him over to the cake, sitting on the table. The candles had been placed and were alight. A spell had been used to keep the wax from melting onto the icing. Molly and Lucy ran up beside him.

“Make a wish, Dad!” Lucy encouraged.

Percy let his eyes fall shut for a moment as he made his wish. Then he opened them again and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and his mother gave him a kiss on the cheek before she went to serve the cake.

The overwhelming love he felt in that moment was almost too much. It had soothed his fear to the point that it had gone dormant. It would come back but he had a feeling its potency had been dulled.

“What’d you wish for?” Lucy asked softly.

“For every birthday to be as amazing as this one,” he replied.

#cw survivor guilt #cw ptsd #percy weasley #percy x oliver #oliver wood #molly weasley ii #lucy weasley #emerywrites fanfic #fanfiction

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hmslusitania · 4 years ago

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I just...really needed someone to yell at the Buckleys on Buck’s behalf the way he did for Maddie. Missing scene from 4x05.

Read it on AO3

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The wrong Buckleys are in the station.

Philip and Margaret are sitting at their dining table, hearing stories about Buck from anyone who will talk to them – which is most of the 118. Eddie’s a little touched by the fact everyone who’s in the station – B shift just coming off a particularly brutal twenty-four, C shift in for obligatory wellness check-ups, their own shift about to be on duty – have all found the time to come tell Philip and Margaret about how beloved their son is.

Everyone except Eddie, that is.

He can’t move from the couch because if he does, it isn’t going to be for nice reasons. He’s hiding his face behind a book that may as well be upside down for all the attention he’s giving it because that way no one can see that he’s biting down on his own finger to keep himself from shouting at them.

When Buck had been angry with them, it was easy enough for Eddie to be level-headed, be the calming, steady friend he needed. The one who knew what that rage felt like and knew it was possible to keep it under control without destroying yourself.

But Buck isn’t here, and he’s not particularly mad anymore. Because Buck’s heart is made of gold and he can’t hold grudges like that. Even when he’d felt abandoned by his real family and been told not to talk to them, he’d still done stupid shit like “accidentally” run into them in the grocery store.

Eddie hears his own voice echo in his head saying, “you’re exhausting,” and he sees that expression in Philip and Margaret Buckley’s faces while everyone talks to them about Buck, and he bites down on his own finger so hard his jaw makes ominous creaking noises and he can feel the bone between his teeth.

“You all know Evan so well,” Margaret says, sounding like she’s trying not to be confused.

“Yes, Evan sounds like he’s grown into a good man,” Philip says, like that’s surprising.

“Do any of you know, does Evan have someone—”

“His name’s Buck, actually,” Eddie hears himself say.

Every head in the loft turns toward him. Chim and Hen look frozen, but in that fixed way like they’ve been trying to figure out how to say that themselves. Bobby, who’s been behind the kitchen island the whole time chopping things into unnecessarily small pieces, shoots him a warning look that Eddie tries to heed. He tries to put his head back behind his book and disappear again, but the Buckleys are still staring at him.

“His name is Evan,” Philip says. “That’s the name we gave him.”

“It’s the only thing you gave him,” Eddie mutters, definitely loud enough to carry. He avoids the disapproving look Bobby gives him.

“Excuse me, young man, do you have a problem with how we raised our son?” Philip asks. He stands and takes a step towards Eddie’s couch. Over Philip’s shoulder, Eddie sees Hen put a stalling hand on Chimney’s shoulder before he can get himself into shit with his future in-laws.

“No, of course not,” Eddie says, standing as well. He’s taller than Philip, which makes him feel a little better in the deep, burning ember spot where he keeps his emotions. “You would’ve had to have raised him for me to have an issue with that.”

Philip’s eyebrows raise. “Whatever issues you may think you know about, I’m still Evan’s father—”

Eddie actually laughs at that. “Buck has a father, a real one, and it sure as hell isn’t—”

“Diaz.” Bobby’s voice cuts through the loft like a knife. “Take a walk.”

Eddie slams his mouth shut, teeth meeting in a rough clang. He looks over Philip’s shoulder at Bobby, who isn’t unsympathetic, but is also not kidding.

Eddie storms off without another word. He’s halfway across the walkway to the stairs when he hears Margaret ask, “Who was he?”

“You were asking if there was someone special in Buck’s life?” Hen says, and Eddie appreciates how icy her voice is. “Eddie’s the closest thing you’re gonna find.”

After their first call of the morning, and after the Buckleys have left the station, Bobby calls him into his office. Eddie sits in the chair he’s spent a bit too much time in for his own comfort and avoids Bobby’s eye.

“It would be inappropriate and unprofessional of me to thank you for shouting at Buck’s parents,” Bobby says finally. Eddie looks up at him and discovers Bobby is wearing a chagrined expression that warms his heart just a bit. “It would’ve been even more inappropriate and unprofessional for me to be the one who yelled at them, so thank you.”

Eddie laughs, just once.

“I just don’t understand how he can possibly forgive them enough to want to have some kind of relationship with them,” Eddie says.

“Because he’s Buck,” Bobby says.

“But it’s not like them talking to each other now can go back and fix everything and make them his parents again,” Eddie says. “They might as well be starting from scratch, and that’s gonna be useless. The only thing they have in common is—”

He cuts himself off because, really, they don’t have what he was about to say in common.

“What?” Bobby prompts.

“I was going to say the only thing they have in common is Maddie, but they clearly care about her as much as they’ve ever cared about Buck,” Eddie says.

Bobby sighs. “Holding on to the people you’ve lost and to all of your grief instead of paying attention to the people right in front of you does tend to do a number on your personal relationships.”

And Eddie’s back to not being able to meet his eye.

“In my case, I was eventually able to forgive myself enough to move on, and I’ve been blessed with an amazing family in return, and two great kids I am privileged to have a hand in raising,” Bobby says. Eddie opens his mouth to protest the idea Bobby only has two kids, but Bobby pre-empts him. “And one adult son who anyone with sense would be overjoyed to take credit for.”

Eddie smiles at that.

“The Buckleys let themselves be completely consumed by grief for twenty-eight years and they will never get that back,” Bobby continues. “And that’s their loss.”

He doesn’t say “don’t be that way” but he doesn’t have to. Eddie gets the message, loud and clear.

“Well, at least we know that when someone finally pulls their head out of their ass long enough to realise Buck’s someone to hold onto, they should come to you for permission,” he says.

Bobby scrutinises him for a second, and then he smiles, amused by something Eddie can’t guess at. “You know? I don’t foresee that being a problem.”

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 tv #9-1-1 fic #4x05 Buck Begins #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Bobby Nash #The buckley parents #unfortunately #911 fox #the ghost ship scribbles

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